Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 2

by Various Authors

  ‘Thank you for your time,’ Eloise said, and got to her feet.

  Kate caught up with Eloise once Nick had stalked out of the practice, mumbling something to the receptionist on his way past. ‘Don’t take his offhand manner personally,’ she said with an expressive roll of her eyes. ‘He’s like that with everyone.’

  ‘This village seems to have its fair share of difficult men,’ Eloise remarked with wryness.

  Kate gave her a speculative look. ‘So you and the chief inspector didn’t quite hit it off? I saw you together earlier.’

  ‘I’m not here to make friends but to find out the truth about a young man’s death,’ Eloise said firmly.

  ‘Lachlan D’Ancey is a pillar of this community,’ Kate said as she walked Eloise to the front entrance. ‘I’m sure you’ll change your opinion of him when you spend more time with him. Nick, however, is another story. I’ve known him a long time and he’s as arrogant and aloof as ever.’

  Eloise couldn’t help feeling there was a hint of regret in the other woman’s tone. Kate Althorp carried herself with natural elegance, but every now and again her warm brown eyes seemed sad, as if life had not turned out quite the way she had hoped. ‘There are three other doctors here, aren’t there?’ she said. ‘Including Dr Tremayne’s son, Edward.’

  ‘Yes, he’s just got married and he’s on his honeymoon at the moment,’ Kate answered. ‘But with the workload increasing all the time, we’re taking on a new doctor, Oliver Fawkner, in a week or two. We also have two nurses, Gemma and Alison.’

  ‘It sounds like a busy practice,’ Eloise offered.

  ‘It is,’ Kate said. ‘The closest hospital is St Piran, half an hour away, so we service quite a large area, although I imagine not as large an area as some places in your country.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ Eloise agreed. ‘Before I specialized, I did a short locum in the outback where we had to fly everywhere to see patients on remote cattle stations. It was certainly very different from working in the city.’

  ‘Has anyone come over with you?’ Kate asked once they were outside. ‘A partner or your husband perhaps?’

  ‘No,’ Eloise answered with a rueful look. ‘I’m not currently attached. I guess I’ve been too busy concentrating on my career.’

  ‘It’s a lonely life without a partner to share the highs and lows. I should know—I lost my husband some years ago.’ She let out a little sigh and added, ‘A rescue went horribly wrong during a storm. I lost James and Nick lost his father and brother. It was a terrible time.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Eloise said, ‘how very tragic for you all.’

  ‘I have a son Jem, short for Jeremiah,’ Kate said with a smile of maternal tenderness. ‘I don’t know how I would have survived without him.’

  ‘Have you lived most of your life in Penhally Bay?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kate said. ‘I trained as a midwife but after James died I felt I needed a change and sort of drifted into administration and eventually became Practice Manager here. But I went back to midwifery, which is my first love.’

  ‘How old is your son?’ Eloise asked.

  ‘He’s just turned nine,’ Kate answered, and with a wistful smile added, ‘Still a little boy but not for much longer, I expect…’

  ‘It must be a lovely place to bring up a child,’ Eloise said as the breeze brought the salty tang of the sea towards them. She glanced out of the open window and looked at the wide view of the sparkling blue of Penhally Bay below. ‘I read in one of the tourist brochures that there’s a seventeenth-century Spanish wreck in the bay and smugglers’ caves. That would hold considerable appeal for many a young boy, I imagine.’

  ‘Yes…’ Kate said, her expression gradually becoming sombre again. ‘I really feel for Mr and Mrs Jenson. They were here yesterday. Nick spent over an hour with them. I can’t imagine the hell they’re going through, wondering if their son was murdered or committed suicide.’

  ‘So you don’t think he just drowned?’ Eloise asked, phrasing her question carefully.

  Kate’s creased brow indicated she hadn’t quite made up her mind. ‘It’s hard to say,’ she said after a little pause as she looked out over the bay before turning back to face Eloise. ‘He was a brilliant surfer—some say he had the potential to be one of the best ever. My son showed me a photo in a surfing magazine of Ethan riding at Shipstern’s Bluff in Tasmania, reputedly the largest and most dangerous waves in the southern hemisphere. Like his family, I find it hard to believe he could come to Penhally Bay in Cornwall and drown. It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘The local authorities seem convinced otherwise,’ Eloise returned before she could check herself, ‘Chief Inspector D’Ancey in particular. He seems to think my presence here is only going to make things worse for the grieving relatives.’

  Kate frowned. ‘Yes, there is that, I suppose, but if it had been my son I would want to know for sure what had happened to him. What if it was foul play?’

  ‘Was he popular amongst the locals?’ Eloise asked.

  ‘He was very popular with the girls,’ Kate said. ‘I guess that might have annoyed some of the local lads a bit, but not enough for anyone to want to get rid of him, I wouldn’t have thought.’

  ‘What about his surfing rivals?’

  Kate pressed her lips together for a moment. ‘I guess if someone wanted to win the next surfing round enough, they might be tempted to eradicate the running favourite, but unlike some sports, where fans take their allegiance to extremes, the surfers all know each other very well and any rivalry is generally friendly.’

  Eloise knew she was probably overstepping her professional boundaries but she didn’t see the harm in getting some background on the victim and how he had been accepted in the village. ‘So you can’t think of anyone who would want Ethan Jenson dead?’ she asked.

  After a brief pause Kate met her questioning gaze levelly. ‘There are probably dozens of fathers of teenage girls in the district who are secretly glad Ethan Jenson is out of the way. He had a bit of reputation, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘So he was a bit of a player locally?’

  ‘Very much so,’ Kate answered. ‘But it comes with the celebrity status, doesn’t it? Mind you, young women these days seem to want to play around just as much as the men. They crow about which high-profile person they’ve bedded and how often. Times have certainly changed.’

  ‘Yes, they have,’ Eloise said, thinking of her staid and conservative foster-parents’ views on dating.

  ‘Where are you staying while you are here?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Trevallyn House. It seems very comfortable and close to everything.’

  ‘Beatrice Trevallyn is a real sweetheart,’ Kate said with a soft smile. ‘She’ll make sure you’re well fed and her son is quite a character. He’s got learning difficulties but he’s lovely. You’ll often see him about the village, doing odd jobs for people. Bea’s done a good job keeping things going as long as she has since she lost her husband. The place is a bit run down and could do with a lick of paint but I don’t think she has the money to do it. She’ll be tickled pink you’ve chosen to stay there.’

  ‘She’s made me very welcome,’ Eloise said. ‘She gave me a lovely room overlooking the bay.’

  ‘How long are you staying in Penhally Bay?’ Kate asked.

  ‘I’ve been assigned a month but it depends on whether I find anything that changes the verdict on Mr Jenson’s death. If that should be the case, I would be called on to give evidence if there’s an inquest or trial.’

  ‘What the poor Jensons need to do is lay their son to rest,’ Kate said with another sombre look.

  ‘I understand how difficult it is for them at a time like this,’ Eloise said. ‘I’ve been involved in other cases that dragged on for several weeks in order to identify the bodies of victims after a bomb attack or fire. It’s hard on everyone.’

  Kate grimaced. ‘I don’t know how you do it, handling dead bodies all the time. I still struggle to ho
ld myself together when we have a stillborn. I have to be strong for the parents but inside I feel nearly as devastated as they do.’

  ‘I’ve had to toughen up a lot,’ Eloise admitted. ‘After my first autopsy I didn’t eat meat for a year. I still can recall the smells of my first murder scene. But it’s worth it to see justice served. The families can at least draw some measure of comfort that the person or persons responsible are locked away for good or for a very long time.’

  ‘The chief inspector’s not long ago gone through a drawn-out and particularly harrowing divorce,’ Kate said. ‘I think he might be finding being a single dad of a sixteen-year-old daughter quite a steep learning curve. Poppy’s a bit of a handful, she’s at that difficult age. All hormones and moods and missing her mother, no doubt, although she’d never admit to it, of course.’

  ‘Did you know the chief inspector’s ex-wife well?’ Eloise asked, with what she hoped sounded like mild interest.

  ‘Margaret D’Ancey didn’t have much time for the locals,’ Kate said. ‘Or at least not since she was promoted in the financial investment firm she works for in London. I often wondered why she got married in the first place—a career always seemed to be more important to her than her husband and daughter. She was always leaving Lachlan to look after Poppy while she went off to some high-powered seminar. I don’t know how he managed to juggle it all, given the stresses and strains of his job.’

  Eloise found it difficult to know what to say in response. She valued her career above everything else in her life so far. Marriage and babies was something she tried not to think about too much. Years of dealing with crime and death had made her realise how tenuous life really was. The thought of bringing a child into the world only to lose it through an accident or a random act of murder was so terrifying she had more or less ruled it out as an option for her life. Besides, no one had entered her life who she had felt she could spend the rest of her days with. Her forensics colleague Bill Canterbury had been the closest she’d come to considering the possibility, but the fallout from their brief interaction had taught her to keep her private life separate from her professional life. She hadn’t been in love with anyone so far, or at least not the sort of love that novels and movies portrayed as permanently life-changing. She wondered, given her background, if she ever would trust anyone enough to love them.

  Kate gave her a searching look. ‘I hope I didn’t offend you. You’ve gone very silent. I didn’t mean to suggest there’s anything wrong with having a career or anything.’

  ‘No, of course you didn’t offend me,’ Eloise said with a reassuring smile. ‘My career is a high priority at the moment but that’s not to say it will always be so, although to be honest I don’t really have any great desire to settle down right now.’

  ‘You don’t want children at some point?’ Kate asked.

  ‘I’ve thought about it once or twice but I haven’t met a man I respect and trust enough to be the father of my child,’ Eloise said truthfully. ‘Most of the women I know are doing it single-handedly, having been deserted and left holding the baby, so to speak. Their chances of finding a new partner are pretty bleak with a couple of kids in tow. It looks like too much hard work if you ask me.’

  ‘I know,’ Kate said with a rueful look. ‘A lot of men don’t want the baggage of another man’s child. Besides, it’s hard on young kids, having people come and go in their life. I want my son to feel secure, it’s so important at his age.’

  ‘It’s important at any age,’ Eloise said, thinking of her various stints in foster-care after her mother had died of a drug overdose. It had taken years for her to settle down with June and Charles Roberts, and even now she still wondered if they had regretted their decision to parent the nine-year-old daughter of a heroin-addicted prostitute and a father registered as unknown.

  Kate glanced at her watch. ‘I have to get going—Jem will be wondering what’s happened to me. Is there anything you need from the clinic or will you just be interviewing Nick?’

  ‘Thanks, but I think Chief Inspector D’Ancey’s organised all the equipment I’ll need at the station at Wadebridge. I’ll be performing the autopsy tomorrow and will then have to process some tests in the lab—the results may take a few days. Normally they take several weeks but this is a high-profile case so it will be given top priority.’

  ‘It’s still all a bit of a waiting game, though, isn’t it?’ Kate said.

  Eloise let out a little sigh. ‘Yes, it is, but that’s life, right?’

  Kate’s small world-weary smile seemed to say it all. ‘Yes, it certainly is.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘DR HAYDEN, there’s a bag of things for you here,’ Beatrice Trevallyn said as Eloise came downstairs later that evening. ‘Chief Inspector D’Ancey dropped them off a few minutes ago. I asked him if he wanted to see you but he seemed in a bit of a hurry. I expect it’s that daughter of his,’ she tut-tutted, and added, ‘That Poppy is going to be trouble, I can tell. She’s far too grown up for her age. If she’s not careful she’ll have the reputation of Molly Beale.’

  Eloise was inclined to agree with Mrs Trevallyn on what she had seen so far of Lachlan D’Ancey’s daughter. Poppy certainly wouldn’t be an easy teenager to manage. She came across as street-wise and moody. She also had the body of a woman, even though she was little more than a child. The chief inspector would have his work cut out for him, keeping some semblance of control, she imagined, especially without the close back-up of the girl’s mother.

  She took the carrier bag from the elderly lady’s hands and asked, ‘Who is Molly Beale?’

  Beatrice’s mouth was pulled tight. ‘My cleaning girl—you know, the one I told you left me without notice? I let her have one of my rooms on the cheap because her mother kicked her out when she got a new man herself, but I wish I hadn’t now. Molly was no better than she should have been, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Have you found someone else to help you in the house?’ Eloise asked, out of politeness rather than any real interest.

  ‘I’m interviewing a couple of women tomorrow,’ Beatrice said, and then glancing around to see if any of the other guests were within earshot she said in an undertone, ‘Davey saw them together, you know, down at the beach.’

  Eloise found herself whispering back. ‘Saw who?’

  ‘That man that was drowned,’ Beatrice said with an air of puffed-up authority. ‘It wasn’t the first time either. Poppy D’Ancey was seeing him behind Robert Polgrean’s back.’

  Eloise could feel her intrigue building. ‘Who is Robert Polgrean?’ she asked.

  ‘Her boyfriend,’ Beatrice answered. ‘Or at least he was until that surfer came to town and lured her away from him. Robert was devastated and still is, mind you. He and Poppy had been going out since their first year at secondary school.’

  ‘Sixteen is rather young to be thinking of permanency in a relationship,’ Eloise felt obliged to say in the girl’s defence. ‘Kids of that age fall in and out of love almost weekly.’

  Beatrice’s bird-like eyes narrowed disapprovingly. ‘And in and out of bed almost daily, if what Davey saw is to be believed. That girl has been running amok since her mother left. Of course, the chief inspector does his best but he’s got to work full time to provide for her, doesn’t he? Margaret should have stayed at home and been a proper mother to the girl, instead of gallivanting off, trying to prove how clever she is.’

  Eloise had to bite her tongue to stop herself launching into one of her well-used feminist soapbox speeches. She suspected that, like her conservative foster-parents Beatrice wouldn’t be all that impressed with her line of argument.

  Instead, she tactfully changed the subject. ‘I thought I might go out for a walk along the bay. I’ve got my key with me so don’t wait up.’

  ‘It’s a lovely evening,’ Beatrice said. ‘If I wasn’t so troubled with my rheumatism, I’d join you. It’s been many a long year since I’ve been able to get down to the water. But it’s a fair w
alk to the surf beach.’

  ‘I love walking and I live near the beach at home,’ Eloise said. ‘I never really feel my day is complete unless I dip my toes in.’

  One of the other guests came down the stairs at that moment and Beatrice turned to speak to them. ‘Good evening, Mr Price. Do you fancy a cup of tea or are you on your way out?’

  ‘A cup of tea would be absolutely marvellous, thank you,’ a man in his early seventies said with an interested glance in Eloise’s direction.

  ‘This is Dr Hayden from Australia,’ Beatrice said. ‘She’s investigating the death of the surfer.’

  The man’s bushy grey brows rose over his faded blue eyes. ‘Oh, really?’

  Eloise smiled politely. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Price. Are you holidaying in the area?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ he answered with a somewhat quirky smile. ‘I’m a writer. I take my work with me wherever I go.’

  ‘Mr Price writes crime fiction, don’t you, Mr Price?’ Beatrice said.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, still smiling.

  ‘Mr Price comes here every year, don’t you, Mr Price?’ Beatrice said with a fond look.

  ‘I do indeed,’ he answered. ‘I love the sea air and Mrs Trevallyn’s Cornish pasties. They are the best I’ve ever tasted.’

  Eloise hadn’t heard of him but, then, she’d never been much of a crime fiction fan, and even less so since she’d been working in forensics. The thought of reading about the sort of stuff she dealt with on a daily basis was not exactly her idea of relaxation, but she didn’t like to burst the man’s bubble too brutally. ‘I look forward to reading one of your books soon,’ she said with another polite smile.

  Mr Price gave her a sheepish look. ‘Um…I’m not actually published just yet but I have a manuscript with an agent in New York as we speak.’