Soaked from just the few minutes of conversation, Anna set off and drove through a small village on a very narrow road with houses huddled on either side. It was impossible for two cars to pass each other and she constantly had to swerve into a tiny gap as a vehicle passed her. Eventually she managed to drive out of the village and she continued as instructed, next passing a cove with a small beach and sheltered by rocks. Hotel Neve was high up above it, with direct views of the cove and ocean.
The rain was still coming down thick and fast and she held the fleece over her head as she hurried from the car park to the hotel entrance, hoping it was not a wasted journey.
The hotel resembled a country house with antique furniture and Persian carpets in a panelled hallway. The reception desk was behind a windowed cubicle where a young girl was working at a computer. Anna waited a moment until the girl looked up.
‘Could you tell me if Craig Sumpter still works here?’
‘Yes, but he’s not on duty right now. Lunch is over and dinner isn’t served until seven.’
‘Where could I find him?’
‘He’s probably in his room. The staff quarters are to the left of the reception as you enter. Do you want me to give him a ring and see if he’s there?’
‘Thank you.’
‘Who shall I say is calling?’
‘DCI Anna Travis.’ She took out her ID and showed it to the girl, who glanced at it and then looked up.
‘Police?’ She rang an internal number, waiting a while before she replaced the phone. ‘Not answering. He might be in the spa by the swimming pool. You want me to call there as well?’
‘No. I tell you what – just point me in the right direction.’
‘Turn right, go to the end of the corridor, then left and it’s signposted.’
‘Thank you.’
Anna moved along the thickly carpeted corridor lined with many sketches and paintings for sale, continuing along a second corridor down some stairs to the indoor pool. It was very warm and an elderly woman with a flowered bathing cap was doing breast-stroke in a very leisurely fashion. The spa and Jacuzzi area was through glass doors, and there was a beauty and hair salon which was closed. Racks of hotel towels were freely available. Pushing open the door to the spa, the smell of chlorine and bleach was overpowering. The Jacuzzi was empty and a slim young man was using a bucket and mop to clean it out.
‘It’s not working today,’ he said pleasantly.
‘Are you Craig Sumpter?’
He nodded. Anna moved closer and showed her ID. He tossed a wet sponge into the bucket.
‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ she asked.
He hesitated and then gestured towards a sun-lounge with wicker beds, cushions and chairs.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
The sun-lounge was cold. Anna watched as the rain lashed down on the large windows that overlooked the gardens and the cove, and sat staring out at the ocean until Craig came in, running his hand through his blonde hair. He was very slender with narrow shoulders, and he was wearing black trousers that looked as if they’d seen better days. His white shirt was clean and pressed, but it looked too large for him.
‘Is this to do with Sammy Marsh?’ he asked.
‘In a way, yes it is. You knew him?’ Anna asked.
‘Everybody around here knows him, but this wasn’t his type of place. He came here a few times, but not recently – maybe months ago. In fact, it was last summer – in June. He wasn’t staying, just having tea out on the patio.’
Anna nodded.
‘I’ve been asked about him a few times by the police, but that’s basically all I could tell them.’
‘Why do you think they questioned you about Sammy?’
‘I’d been seen with him at the Smugglers café a few times. I worked the bar there when I first came to Cornwall and they said they were questioning everyone about him.’
‘I’m going to show you a photograph of someone else. See if you recognise him.’
She noticed that Craig was nervous. He had an elastic band that had been round his wrist which he was now threading through his fingers and twanging it. He was wearing rundown leather shoes and his foot twitched constantly.
‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-one. I’m learning the ropes here as I want to get into hotel management.’
‘This man?’ She showed him Alan Rawlins’s photograph. Craig looked at it and then back to Anna.
‘What about him?’
‘Do you know him?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Dan Matthews.’
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Because he’s missing and I am trying to trace him.’
‘Has he done something wrong?’
‘Just answer my question, Craig. When was the last time you saw him?’
‘Over six months ago.’
‘Did he come to see you here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you go to his flat in Newquay?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Did you have a relationship with him?’
‘Why do you want to know that?’
‘Because we are very concerned for his safety.’
Craig leaned forwards. He had a pretty face with wide blue eyes and a small nose with plump girlish lips.
‘I’m concerned too. He’s not contacted me and . . .’
He blinked back tears, twanging the elastic band.
‘Go on, Craig. It’s very important.’
‘He made me promises and I believed him, but he’s not answered my calls and now he’s not picking up his phone.’
‘His London phone?’
‘No, no, his mobile. I’ve sort of given up.’
‘What promises?’
The tears were very close to the surface and he tossed his head back, sniffing.
‘He said we’d move into a house he’d bought and he said that for my twenty-first he was going to give me a car.’ He wiped his cheek with the flat of his hand. ‘He said he was repairing a Mercedes, a 280SL. He said it would be my birthday present, but . . .’
‘So you had a very strong relationship with him?’
‘I thought so. I really believed him and I told everyone about the car.’
‘When you last saw him, how did he seem to you?’
‘Same as usual. We were going to look at his house, as he said it was almost finished. I’d helped choose some of the fabr ics for his sun-lounge and . . . I can’t believe that he was lying to me.’
‘Did he say he was planning to move to Cornwall on a permanent basis?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he ever tell you about his life back in London?’
‘Not that much. He was always very cagey about it – I know why.’
‘Why?’
‘He was living with a woman. He said they were just platonic, but he never wanted to talk about her. He said it was awkward and that he didn’t want to stay with her.’
‘He never told you he was engaged to this woman?’
Craig looked shocked and then shook his head.
‘Was he ever nasty to you?’ Anna asked next.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Rough? Knock you around?’
‘Dan?’
‘Yes – did he beat you up at all?’
‘No, never. He was really special. He was my first real relationship and he was always gentle and looked out for me.’
‘Did you ever see him use drugs?’
‘A couple of times he had some ecstasy tabs, but I wouldn’t take them. He also smoked a few joints and I wouldn’t even do that.’
‘Why not?’
Craig turned away. His foot was still twitching and his hands couldn’t stop twanging the elastic band.
‘I’ve had a few problems with my kidneys. When I was a kid it was quite bad so I’ve been on medication. I’m scared
to take anything that might make me ill again. I don’t drink either.’
‘You said you were working here to train in hotel management, but if you took up his offer to go and live with him, that would mean losing your job, wouldn’t it?’
‘No. He told me he was coming into some inheritance, a lot of money, and that we could look around to buy a small hotel. I couldn’t believe it when he never wrote to me or texted or phoned. I’ve been in a right state because he promised me, he promised me.’
‘Do you have any of his letters?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you allow me to see them?’
‘They’re private.’
‘Listen to me, Craig – you need to know that the man you knew as Daniel Matthews has been missing for some considerable time – and that is probably why you haven’t heard from him. I’m sorry to say that we have grave concerns about his safety. In fact, we fear that he may have been murdered, so anything you can do to help me try to either trace him, or find out what has happened to him, would be greatly appreciated.’
‘Murdered? Are you saying he’s dead?’
‘Possibly.’
The tears the young man had been trying to keep under control rolled down his cheeks.
‘I loved him,’ he sobbed.
‘These letters, Craig – please may I see them?’
‘They’re in my room.’
‘Will you take me there?’ Anna tried to be gentle, to curb her impatience.
He drew a shuddering breath and then nodded.
Chapter Eighteen
Paul’s legs felt like jelly as he got down from the helicopter. Williams found it amusing, saying that at least he hadn’t thrown up. He put his arm around Paul’s shoulders and guided him towards the waiting patrol car.
‘Get a cup of our coffee down you and you’ll feel better.’
‘Promise?’ Paul said with a weak smile.
When they arrived at the station Harry Took repeated to Williams that Anna had gone to talk to guys they had interviewed at the hotels. Williams didn’t like it, saying sharply that he should have driven her as she was going to be hours, and with the weather getting even worse she would find driving hazardous.
They ordered sandwiches which were brought into the incident room on a trolley. Seeing them made Paul feel even worse. He also felt like a spare part. The trip in the helicopter had revealed nothing apart from the scale of Sammy Marsh’s territory for drug-dealing. He sat at an empty desk as Williams asked his team if they had any new developments, listening to the latest reports: there had been no movement in any of Sammy’s known bank accounts, no credit-card use, and the monies transferred to Alan Rawlins’s account in the Cayman Islands were also untouched. Paul excused himself and went to the gents to put in a call to Anna, who answered abruptly, saying she couldn’t talk, but that she would be heading back to the station shortly. She suggested he use the time to take a look over the Smugglers café, the known haunt of Sammy and Alan.
‘It’s closed,’ Paul pointed out.
‘Check it out anyway,’ she said and cut off the call.
Paul next rang the incident room in London, only to discover that Brian Stanley was off sick and Helen was out of the station, on enquiries at Asda.
Paul was told that the manager had rung to say he had made a mistake and therefore the footage for the day Tina Brooks had purchased the bleach may not have been erased. Paul hung up, unconvinced that this would add anything as they already had the date and time on Tina’s receipt and she was not denying the purchase of bleach and carpet cleaner from Asda.
He returned to the incident room as the team finished up their tea and sandwiches, and Williams gave him a sidelong glance, knowing he would have been calling Anna.
‘How’s your lady boss?’
‘Couldn’t talk as she was busy, but do you think we could go and look over the Smugglers café?’
‘It’s closed. We’ve also checked it out and there’s nothing there.’
‘I know that, but just out of interest.’
‘Sure – I’ll arrange it.’ Williams turned to Harry Took, who was still eating.
‘Harry, wheel Paul here over to the Smugglers café. Call the guy that owns it and see if they can open it up.’
Paul caught the amused glances between Williams and Harry, feeling even more like a spare part as he delved into his pocket for some chewing gum, anything to take away the taste of bile still in his mouth.
The rain was still lashing down. Anna had to use the fleece to cover her head again as Craig led her out of the hotel via a back exit and around through the gardens to the staff quarters. He’d said he didn’t want anyone from the management to see them go into his room as they didn’t like their staff entertaining.
The staff accommodation was in a small single-storey building attached to the main hotel. Each unit had its own entrance door. Craig unlocked his, soaked from the rain, his blonde hair dripping.
It was just a single bedroom with a shower unit and a small kitchen annex, all very tidy. On the bedside table were three small framed photographs. Each one had Craig and Alan Rawlins together, sunbathing, dining out and walking close together on the beach.
‘Who took these?’
‘I did. My camera’s got a timer on it. Dan bought it for me.’
Anna sat on the only comfortable chair as Craig opened a drawer in a small painted dresser. He took out a bundle of letters in their envelopes and then sat on the bed as he thumbed through them. A couple he placed to one side.
‘They’re from my mum,’ he explained, looking up.
He then passed Anna four letters, all of which she noticed had peel and seal envelopes and therefore no chance of any DNA from Alan Rawlins’s saliva.
‘They’re very personal,’ he said quietly.
She opened the first. There was no date and no address, but she noticed a London postmark. The letter had been written over a year ago. The writing was neat in felt-tipped pen and it was rather touching, saying how much Alan had enjoyed meeting Craig and that he couldn’t wait for when he would be able to see him again. It also mentioned he had enclosed some money for him to start saving for the surfboard he wanted. He had signed Dan and underlined it three times. The next two letters were similar in content, but more familiar, describing how much he had liked Craig’s body and suggesting he start to work out in the hotel gym. Again he had enclosed money and again he’d signed his name as Dan.
Craig remained silent as Anna read through the letters. Nothing in them gave any indication of what Alan Rawlins’s intentions were, although there was the promise of the Mercedes for Craig’s birthday.
‘How much money did he send you?’
‘Two or three hundred. It’s all in a savings account.’
There was something almost fatherly about the instructions to eat well and work out to build up his strength. There was a reference to when Alan would be next coming to see him and that he would be bringing some clothes for him and some new shoes.
‘Did you reply to his letters?’
‘No, as I never had his address. He said it wouldn’t be a good idea, but whenever I asked why, he would change the subject. He told me he often stayed over at his parents’ and I thought that maybe I could write to him there, but he said it wouldn’t be convenient and that if I needed anything I could always contact him on his mobile.’
‘Which you did?’ She looked up from the letters.
‘Yes, until about nine weeks ago.’
‘Could you give me the number you called?’
He nodded and got up to write on a notepad as Anna reread the letters. There was never a date or address. She concentrated on the contents of the last one as it looked different; the writing was hurried and slapdash, although it expressed as always how much he missed and loved Craig, but then came a passage about business problems and that he would not be coming to see him for a while. Anna looked at the date on the envelope: it was seven months ago. Underlined were instru
ctions for Craig to stay well away from Sammy and to give him no indication that they were seeing each other. It was imperative they keep their relationship private; this was underlined twice. The next paragraph in the letter read: I am having major problems and may have got in over my head. I have been foolish and I don’t want you getting involved. If you don’t hear from me for a while just know that you are the most important person in my life. I promise you the Mercedes is almost ready for me to drive it down for your birthday. I love you . . .
Anna refolded the letter back along its creases and tucked it into the envelope.
‘What do you think he meant by getting in over his head?’
‘The costs of the house were mounting. He said he hadn’t bargained for it in his budget and he needed a lot of money for the contractors. They were going to down tools if he didn’t pay up.’
‘When was this?’
‘Oh, before that letter, but he was worried. He must have got himself out of trouble financially though, because he started making even more plans and ordered this expensive kitchen unit for the house.’
‘Did you ask him about his problems?’
‘Yes, he said they weren’t to concern me, but he was a bit different.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Very strung out and a bit tetchy with me, but I never asked too much as I didn’t want him to get the feeling that I was in it with him for the money.’
Craig opened his wardrobe and began taking out various items: a fringed suede jacket, a suit and some shirts. All were new and bought for him by the man he called Dan.
‘And shoes?’ He bent down and brought out a box of suede loafers, before neatly replacing the items after he had shown them to Anna.
‘He said he wanted me to smarten up. I don’t earn much here, in fact I’ve never had much so I keep them for best – keep them for when I see him.’
He turned and the tears brimmed in his eyes again.
‘You see, I really thought he cared for me, but to just cut me off like that . . . I don’t understand it.’
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