Blood Line

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘What you really mean is whoever took the swab didn’t seal it or fill the form out correctly,’ Anna retorted equally sharply. ‘We have a head hair and semen stains from Alan Rawlins’s bedsheet, perhaps you might also get evidence from Sammy Marsh’s bedroom. If he is the victim we can get our Forensic Department to do a comparison. Both men were homosexual and it’s possible the two of them were partners sexually as well as financially. I don’t like the edgy feeling I am getting from all of you that insinuates my team has not been on top of our case – which began, in case you are not aware of it, as one of a reported missing person.’

  ‘I’d say with blood swamping the guy’s bedroom you would have an f’ing strong clue it was a murder.’

  Anna was about to have another terse interaction with Ted Brock when Williams stepped in.

  ‘That’s enough. We’re wasting time.’

  ‘But for chrissakes sakes, how can that woman Tina Brooks not be involved? It doesn’t make sense,’ Brock protested.

  ‘We’ve no body,’ Anna said angrily.

  ‘Well, we’ve got three bodies – of young teenagers. I think we have to take priority if we find this guy Alan Rawlins.’

  ‘If!’ Anna exclaimed, red-faced. But before she could say any more, Williams’s phone rang. It was the pilot, informing them that the helicopter was standing by and if they wanted to use it, now was the time to do so, as if the weather got any worse they wouldn’t be allowed to lift off.

  Anna hurried across to speak to Paul, who had been out of the incident room for most of the arguments.

  ‘You take off with them. I’m going to do some work here. Nice of you to back me up!’

  ‘Come on! I left because I got a call from our guys. Helen’s run a check on the Chapman family and they’re clean. The husband has no record and is, as she told us, working for a shipyard. The boyfriend also has no record. The estate agents have given details of a bank deposit transfer to the Cayman Islands. The rent goes direct to the bank – it’s for two and a half thousand a month . . .’

  Unseen by either of them, Williams had overheard.

  ‘Checking up, are you? I could have told you that. We’re trying to get more information regarding the Cayman Island deposit, but it looks like your suspect was taking flight.’ He began to hand over fleece jackets and woollen hats for the helicopter flight.

  ‘I won’t need them,’ Anna said. ‘I meant to tell you, I hate flying especially in a helicopter so I’ll take up your offer of a car and do some driving around here.’

  Williams gave her a long steady gaze and then shrugged. ‘Up to you.’

  ‘How long will you be?’

  ‘Hour or so, so we’ll meet up back here. And maybe hang onto the fleece as it’s cold out there.’

  As the Drug Squad moved out with Williams and Paul, Anna took a closer look at their incident board. She noticed Harry Took helping himself to more of the coffee and pastries.

  ‘Could I have you just for a second, Harry?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, spitting crumbs out of his mouth as he joined her.

  Anna pointed to the names of a couple of hotels. ‘Why these particular hotels?’

  Harry explained that Sammy Marsh had frequented one in Falmouth known for its restaurant, and they had also traced an ex-boyfriend there, who worked as a waiter.

  ‘Is he still working there?’

  ‘I don’t know. The other one is a small hotel in the Rose peninsula area near Padstow. It’s open all year round, has mostly elderly clients and overlooks a small cove. The body of victim one was washed up there.’

  ‘You get anything from them?’

  ‘No, just that we’d missed Sammy by a few days.’

  ‘Do you know if Alan Rawlins ever used either of these hotels?’

  ‘Nope, but then we’ve only just got all the information on him.’

  Anna jotted down the locations and took a seat at an empty desk to study a map of the area. She checked the time, deciding that finding the hotels would be her starting-point. Picking up the fleece jacket, she was about to head out when Harry asked if she needed him to drive.

  ‘No thanks, but I need the keys to the vehicle DCI Williams has arranged for me.’

  Harry brought her the keys and said the car was parked outside in the station car park.

  ‘You take care. Some of the roads are very narrow.’

  ‘I will, thank you, and I’m on my mobile if anyone needs to contact me.’

  Meanwhile Paul was seated in the helicopter with Williams, who used the radio-controlled microphone to talk to his guest through the headphones.

  ‘We’re going to start by flying north and then go south down the coast to Land’s End. You’ll get a good bird’s-eye view of all the beaches and different locations used by Sammy and his henchmen.’

  As they left Newquay, Paul’s stomach lurched. Although it was no longer raining there was quite a wind kicking up.

  ‘As you can see below, the reason why Newquay is a focal point for surfers is because we’ve got beaches facing in all directions. That means there’s a good spread of the different types of surf, for beginners to professionals. We get some really excellent breaks.’

  Williams kept up a running commentary, pinpointing the known locations and where two bodies had been washed up. They flew over Sammy’s apartment and Paul could see way below his speedboat bobbing around in the swell.

  Anna used the route-finder to drive out of Newquay heading for Falmouth. It was unseasonably cold, but the sun came out and now that she was alone she began to relax. She knew it might be a fruitless drive, but it was possible that the same waiter might also have known Alan Rawlins.

  Williams received a text message from Harry Took that he had released a car for DCI Travis, who was driving to Falmouth to the hotels named on the incident board. Williams laughed and turned back to Paul.

  ‘Your Anna Travis doesn’t like flying? But I can tell you she’s on a wasted trip whereas this would have been beneficial because she would be able to understand the number of locations we’ve had to check out.’

  As they headed for Bude, Williams pointed out the various beaches used by the surfers: Duckpool, Sandymouth, Northcott Mouth, Crooklets. They swooped down low over Widemouth Bay, Crackington Haven and Trebarwith Strand. The constant motion as they flew lower with the wind buffeting the helicopter made Paul’s stomach turn.

  Falmouth Harbour was very picturesque and a popular tourist attraction. The well-sheltered cove was crowded with fishing boats, advertisements for day-trip excursions and an abundance of fish and chip restaurants. But Anna drove straight through before heading onto narrow lanes towards a hotel built on a clifftop. The Trethanium was a very well-appointed establishment with a large roof-terrace restaurant. There were no spaces available in the front driveway so she had to use their overflow car park across the road.

  She left the fleece jacket behind as it was just a short walk across the road to the hotel’s rear entrance, where she found a row of Wellington boots left on shelves for the residents, along with umbrellas and plastic raincoats. She made her way through a corridor towards a small desk beside the entrance to the restaurant. The restaurant was empty so Anna then followed the signs for the bar. There were a few residents sitting on high stools around the small well-equipped bar, and a young girl in a white shirt and black skirt was serving. The room looked out on the spectacular sea views and opened, through two glass doors, onto a large restaurant terrace which was closed as it was out of season.

  ‘I’m looking for Neil Baggerly,’ Anna said to the barmaid, who checked her watch and suggested he might be in the dining room setting up for lunch.

  ‘I’ve just come from there,’ Anna told her. ‘The tables are set but nobody is about. Is there anywhere else he might be?’

  ‘Try the front of the hotel. We are expecting some guests to arrive.’

  Anna went to go back the way she had entered when the barmaid told her that the main reception of the hot
el was via another corridor. There were arrows pointing to reception, so Anna followed the signs down a staircase and out to the main reception area. This faced wide glassfronted doors opening onto the narrow roadway. There was no one on the desk, but outside Anna could see a young dark-haired man carrying two suitcases from the open boot of a car. The glass doors opened electronically and he headed inside. The elderly couple on the pavement returned to their car to drive it around to the hotel parking lot where Anna had left her car.

  ‘Excuse me, are you Neil Baggerly?’

  He glanced at her as he leaned over the reception desk to remove a room key.

  ‘You want to make a booking for lunch?’

  ‘No, I would like to talk to you.’

  He straightened, looking at her suspiciously. She came closer and showed her ID, saying, ‘When you have a moment.’

  Picking up the suitcases, he gave her a resigned glance and said over his shoulder that he’d be five minutes.

  It was more like ten as Anna waited. He eventually returned and took the guestbook to jot down the time of the guests’ arrival. She took the moment to have a really good look at him. He was not very tall, but was very striking in looks, with thick black hair combed back from his chiselled face. He closed the book and tucked the biro back into his top pocket.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ Anna began.

  ‘I’m on duty so whatever you want to ask me, do it here.’

  ‘If you want me to air your dirty laundry in public I will.’

  ‘Listen, I have been questioned over and over again. This is about Sammy Marsh again, isn’t it?’

  ‘Connected to him, yes.’

  ‘Well, I’ve told a fat greasy guy everything, and then I’ve repeated it all to a tall, sandy-haired bloke. I haven’t seen Sammy for over eight months. I knew him, yeah. I could get him the best table on the terrace in the summer, yeah, but I don’t have anything more to do with him.’

  ‘I really think you need to change your attitude . . .’

  ‘I just told you. I’m on duty, we’re short-staffed and I’ve got to man the desk and act as porter.’

  Anna again showed her ID, facing him out.

  ‘I’m not from here. I’ve come from London and this, Mr Baggerly, is a murder enquiry – so you will find somewhere for us to talk in private. And now, if you please.’

  He sulkily picked up the phone and spoke to someone to say he would be in the other bar. He jerked his head for Anna to follow him.

  The bar, which was close to the open terrace, was closed. Ungraciously, he pulled out two stools.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He shrugged as Anna placed her briefcase onto the bar and clicked it open, removing the photograph of Alan Rawlins.

  ‘Do you know this man?’

  Neil looked and nodded. ‘Yeah, he used to have lunch here in the summer, but I’ve not seen him either for months, like Sammy.’

  ‘Sammy Marsh? How well did you know him?’

  ‘Not well, but like I said, I’ve been asked about him.’

  ‘What about this man in the photograph?’

  ‘Last summer, he’d come here for lunch and sometimes dinner.’

  ‘What was his name?’

  ‘Daniel Matthews.’

  ‘Was he alone?’

  ‘No, he was sometimes with Sammy and sometimes with another guy, or sometimes with four or five people.’

  ‘How well did you know Daniel Matthews?’

  Baggerly sighed and then looked her in the eye. ‘I knew him. He was a heavy tipper so I always made a point of grabbing him as a customer.’

  ‘You grab anything else?’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘This man was homosexual.’

  Neil looked away.

  ‘Are you?’ Anna enquired.

  ‘That’s my business.’

  ‘It’s also mine, Mr Baggerly. This man has disappeared, he has been missing for some considerable time and it’s possible he has been murdered.’

  Neil gave a soft laugh. ‘Possible? Either he has or he hasn’t.’

  ‘You think it’s funny? I need to talk to anyone who knew him. I need to find out who else knew him – and if you know anything, I suggest you straighten out and tell me what it is.’

  ‘Straighten out?’

  ‘Yes. We can either do it here and now, or I will have you taken into the police station for questioning. Now: just how well did you know this man?’ She jabbed the photograph of Alan.

  ‘Sammy introduced me to him a couple of summers ago. We had a few nights together, but he was an oddball and could get quite nasty and I’m not into that stuff. Also, he was with Sammy Marsh. Whether or not they were an item I couldn’t tell you.’

  ‘Did you score drugs from him?’

  ‘Sammy?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Baggerly.’

  ‘Few lines of coke – that’s my limit – but he could hoover it up, and didn’t like to get down to it unless he was high.’

  ‘You are referring to this man you know as Daniel Matthews?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You scored drugs from him?’

  ‘I didn’t score – he had them with him. I’ve never been with Sammy. He’s not my type and besides, he’s always got a bunch of guys fawning all over him. If I say Dan was a heavy tipper, Sammy used to be so stoned he would drop hundreds. Reason I was never too friendly towards him was because he was well known to throw his weight around. You never knew where you were with Sammy. One minute he was all smiles and the next he’d blank you.’

  Neil Baggerly frowned. ‘He never used to be like that – I’m talking about Sammy now. He was always Mr Sharp, but the last few times I saw him here he was well out of it. I kept my distance because the management here are very classy.’

  ‘Was Daniel Matthews drugged up?’

  ‘No, he would stick to soft drinks, but like I said, when he was alone with me he’d snort up a few lines.’

  ‘When you were with him, did you go to his place?’

  ‘No. I’ve got a room here. Apart from that, the summer is our busy time and I’ve not got a car. On my days off we’d go into Falmouth, but I never went over to Newquay, and he never seemed to want me to go there. In fact, I know he didn’t like Sammy to know he was seeing me.’

  ‘When was the last time you saw him?’

  Neil closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He recollected that it had to have been seven or eight months ago.

  ‘He came in alone for some lunch and I told him that I wouldn’t be off-duty for the afternoon and that I was also working that night. He said that he was not going to be around as he was heading back to London. Oh yeah . . .’ Neil clicked his fingers. ‘Another thing, we always have all the newspapers, local as well as the London ones, and I gave him one to read because he was sitting by himself. It was the local one – about that girl they’d found dead, washed up on the beach. The coroner’s report said that it was a heroin OD. Front page, it was.’

  Anna waited as Neil licked his lips, frowning.

  ‘I brought him some iced water and I said to him, joking, I said, nodding to the paper, that I hoped Sammy wasn’t involved. At that he kind of freaked, rolling up the paper and slapping the table with it. He was really uptight, if you know what I mean.’

  She nodded and waited, but Neil just shrugged.

  ‘That was it. He got up and left without touching his food. When I went out to the back of the hotel to see if he’d really gone or whether he just wanted the lavatory, he was walking out. I asked him if there was something wrong.’

  Neil described the odd look on Alan Rawlins’s face, but he’d said nothing else and that was the last time he had seen him.

  ‘What about Sammy Marsh?’

  ‘Same day or night, Sammy was here asking if I’d seen Dan. I told him he’d been in for lunch, and Sammy never even waited for me to finish talking. He just pushed past me. Like
I said, he was a weirdo.’

  ‘Did you tell the Cornish police this?’

  ‘Not about Daniel. They never asked me about him, just wanted to know the last time I’d seen Sammy.’

  Anna held up the photograph of Alan Rawlins again.

  ‘And you are sure that this man is Daniel Matthews?’

  Neil laughed crudely. ‘I’d know him anywhere – not that you can see it in this photograph. If you know what I mean.’

  Unaware that Anna was driving to the Neve Hotel far beneath him, Paul was coming to the end of his tour of the beaches, as the pilot flew them over Polzeath and Padstow.

  ‘We’re turning back now,’ Williams said.

  Paul was grateful. His stomach felt as if it was lurching up into his mouth thanks to the helicopter constantly swooping low for him to get a good view of the beaches. The wind was picking up, and the single-bladed craft was bouncing as Williams pinpointed where one of the victims had been washed ashore; Constantine Bay, with its dangerous reefs.

  ‘This beach is avoided by beginners. You get a tidal flow sweeping you onto the rocks and they can cut you to shreds, which is why our victim’s body was so damaged.’

  ‘How far to go?’ Paul asked plaintively.

  ‘About twenty minutes. We’ll be coming over Newquay soon.’

  Paul closed his eyes and whispered, ‘Thank God.’

  Williams smiled at the pilot, as they’d both noticed that Paul’s face was ashen. ‘There’s a sick bag tucked into the back of the seat, should you require it.’

  Anna almost had a head-on collision with a tractor as she drove slowly along very narrow lanes, with high hedgerows on either side. The sun had gone and the rain had started. It was light at first, but then it became a deluge and she half-wished that she had taken up Harry Took’s offer to drive. She took the wrong turning over and over again, even though she was following the signs to the hotel. Twice she ended up in a field, through a cart track, and then turning back on herself she checked her map. The SatNav was useless. In fact, she had followed its instruction and that was the reason she had ended up in the fields. Covering her head with the borrowed fleece, she ran across to a farmworker and asked him the way. He laughed as he told her she was almost there and to continue on the narrow road for two miles and she would pass a small village and fishing cove. Three miles beyond that was the beach and cove and the Hotel Neve on the cliffs.