On Deadly Tides

by Elizabeth J Duncan

  “I’m utterly speechless. I can’t take it all in. You did that for me? For us? Oh, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes? After all, we have to live somewhere. Why not here?”

  “To say I’m gobsmacked is putting it mildly. It’s really incredible you would do this.”

  “I just got the ball rolling, that’s all. If you hadn’t wanted to live here, in that beautiful Georgian terrace, then it wouldn’t have gone any further. But what do you say? Shall we take the next step?”

  “I feel as if I’m in a dream, but yes!”

  “Good. Oh, and just to be clear, it’s my money, but it’s not me buying the apartment. It’s you and me. It’ll be in both our names.”

  He kissed her lightly, then wrapped his arms around her. After a moment, she looked up at him and took a step back.

  “I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes to go over the plans for the capsule spa with Sarah, but after what’s just happened”—she gestured toward the terrace—“it’s going to be awfully difficult to think about anything else. But it’s probably best I don’t mention anything about us buying the apartment. Let’s keep that between ourselves for now.”

  “No problem.”

  “I really want to ask her about her husband and his disappearance, but I’m not sure what to say.”

  “You shouldn’t say anything. Don’t even think about it. We don’t know who broke into your cottage, and it could have been one or both of them. Her and Bill Ward. I don’t trust him.” He touched her on the arm. “Promise me.” She nodded. “I’ll wait for you in the hotel bar when you’ve finished. And if you’re gone longer than—what? Half an hour?” Penny nodded. “Let’s say thirty minutes. If you’re not in the bar in thirty minutes, I’ll come looking for you. Agreed?”

  Penny nodded again.

  * * *

  Penny unrolled the plans Victoria had drawn up as she and Sarah entered the ground-floor space off the lobby where the new spa would be located.

  “What used to be here?” Penny asked.

  “Oh, it’s been lots of things over the years. At one time the gift shop was located here, but with so many gift shops scattered all over town now, it was decided the space could be better used. Most recently the catering office operated out of here, but this is more space than they need, and they don’t need to be front of house, so we’re really pleased that you’re going to be operating a spa in here. The space can make money for all of us.”

  “Besides the clients we already discussed, it’ll be really popular with hotel guests going to weddings,” Penny said. “And couples staying here on romantic breaks. I’m sure you get lots of those.” And you know a thing or two about hotel romantic breaks, don’t you?, Penny added to herself, thinking back to what Cilla McKee had told her about how Sarah and Bill Ward had met.

  The two women did a walk-through of the room, discussing what service would be offered in which area as they referred to the plans that Penny had spread out on an empty table.

  “So reception desk here, just as you enter,” Penny pointed out. “Manicure station under the window, hair over there, and massage and facials back there, behind screens.”

  “And the wall colour?” asked Sarah. “What did you decide about that?”

  Penny held out a strip of sample paint colours. “We thought a watery colour, to suggest the sea. It will be a soft blue-green. Soothing and relaxing.”

  Sarah nodded. “Fine. I’ve sent the legal documents over to Victoria, so as soon as your solicitor approves them and everything’s signed off, we’ll get started. Once construction is underway, I expect you or Victoria will be on site often to make sure it all goes to plan. We need to sort out an opening date and think about the publicity.”

  “It’s going to be a busy autumn,” Penny said. She thought about the December show at the Snowdonia art gallery but decided that, with the connection to Cilla McKee, it would be another topic she’d be smart to avoid. Anyway, it had nothing to do with Sarah. But perhaps a little mention of Bill Ward wouldn’t do any harm? “I haven’t seen Bill Ward around today. Is he in town, do you know?”

  Sarah shrugged. “Possibly. I don’t keep track of his comings and goings.”

  “Someone told me you two used to be an item.” Sarah gave her a look like thunder. “I prefer not to discuss my personal life when I’m at work, if you don’t mind. Let’s keep this professional, shall we?”

  Penny decided to chance it, to see what kind of reaction she’d get. “Well, I just wondered if he was around, because someone broke into my cottage, looking for something. Do you think it could have been him?”

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed as she gave Penny an icy look. “Look, Bill and I have our differences, but breaking into your cottage doesn’t sound like something he’d do. What could he possibly have wanted? To steal your paintings?” She let out a little snicker. “Right, now. Let’s just keep our attention on the plans here, shall we?”

  “Of course. But I wonder, if you don’t mind me asking, what brought you to Anglesey?”

  “I thought the sea air would be good for my health.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Penny propped the rolled-up construction plans against the wall as she slid into the chair beside Colin in the hotel bar.

  “From the look on your face, I’m guessing it didn’t go well,” he said. He gestured at the glass of white wine on the table in front of Penny. “Hope that helps.” He waited until she had taken a sip, and then continued. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  They were seated about halfway down the length of the room, midway between the entrance and the bar. About half the tables were occupied, some with quiet solitary drinkers checking their phones, others with couples ignoring each other as they checked their phones.

  “I didn’t get very far with her.” Penny retrieved the rolled-up plans for the capsule spa and stood up. She pointed with them, indicating another table, and said, “Since we’re here, let’s sit where we were on that Friday night when we were talking to Jessica. I’d like to go back over that. Do you mind bringing the drinks?”

  Colin followed her to a table near the entranceway. “I think this was our table,” Penny said. “Do you think it was our table?” She gestured at the table beside it. “Or was it that one?”

  He glanced at the doorway, then gave a little shrug and sat down. “I think this was the one, but I didn’t take too much notice, to be honest. I was totally taken up with meeting you. Have a seat and try it out from a sitting perspective.”

  Penny picked up a chair from a neighbouring table and set it beside their new table. “Let’s think back to that evening and remember everything we can. No detail’s too small. Everything’s important until we know that it isn’t.” She gestured at the empty chair. “Right. Jessica’s sitting there. Her backpack’s leaning against the wall, and she’s telling us about the stories she’s planning to work on while she’s here.”

  While they mulled that over, two couples seated across from them drained the last of their drinks and made a show of gathering up their belongings. When they had left the room, Llifon came out from behind the bar, carrying a tray.

  As he piled the empty glasses on the tray, with his back to them, Penny said, “And then she made that comment that startled us. ‘I’m here to investigate a murder,’ she said. Remember?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “And now we know that the person she was referring to was Mark Currie.”

  After piling the glasses on the tray, Llifon wiped the table with a white bar cloth. He then left the tray on the now-clean table and approached Penny and Colin.

  “Sorry,” he said, “but I couldn’t help overhearing what you said just now. About Mark Currie.” He glanced up and down the room, and then added, “Did you know Mark Currie was Sarah Spencer’s husband?” He said this almost in a whisper. “The police have been around asking a lot of questions.”

  At that moment, Martin Hewitt the hotel manager, appea
red in the doorway. Catching sight of him, Llifon scampered back to the nearby table, picked up his tray, and trotted off to the bar with it.

  And that, Penny realized, is how it happened. Sarah Spencer’s routine act of collecting used glasses from bar tables set in motion the train of events that led to Jessica Graham’s death.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Do we have to?” moaned Colin. “It’s still dark. I don’t want to get up. It’s so nice and cozy here with you. Just a few more minutes?”

  “Sorry,” said Penny. “But this is what we came for, and I’m going now. I’d really like you to come with me, but of course you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  Colin threw back the covers and sat up. “And let you do all the sleuthing by yourself? I don’t think so.”

  They got dressed, hurried out of the hotel, and with sunrise still over an hour away, made their way along the dark, empty street. They waited in the silent shadows across from the Georgian terrace until they heard the quiet, humming swoosh of the electric milk float approaching. It slowed to a stop, as they knew it would, and the milkman got out and picked up his tray with half a dozen full bottles loaded between the metal slots.

  “Excuse me,” said Penny, as she approached him, and then, after introducing herself and Colin, she continued. “May I ask you something? Won’t take a minute. It’s just that you’re out and about really early, and I’m sure you see lots of things.”

  The man looked from one to the other and let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I do see things, right enough. People leaving buildings where maybe they shouldn’t have spent the night.” He looked from one to the other. “Say, are you two private detectives or something like that?” Assured that they weren’t, he continued. “I haven’t got long, mind. Got a schedule to keep to. How can I help?”

  Penny held out her phone and showed him a photo of Jessica Graham that Louise had sent her. “Did you happen to see this young woman when you were making your rounds on the morning of Saturday, August the first?”

  He peered at the screen. “May I?” Penny handed over her phone, and he held it closer to his eyes. “Yeah. I think I did see her one morning, but I can’t remember if it was that morning.”

  “It would have had to be that morning because that was the only morning she was in Beaumaris. She arrived the afternoon before, and she was found dead at Black Point later that morning.”

  “Oh no, that’s terrible.” He looked at the photo again. “And that’s her? The young woman who died?”

  “Where do you think you might have seen her?”

  “She was leaving the hotel. She walked a little way and then stopped.”

  “In what direction?”

  He pointed back the way Penny and Colin had come. “She was walking away from the hotel, headed in this direction.”

  “And you were able to get a good look at her?”

  “I did. I took notice of her because of what I said earlier. Usually it’s men I see walking at this hour. I always think they’ve spent the night away from home, if you know what I mean, although some are bound to be on their way to work. So I did notice her because I don’t often see women out by themselves at that time of the morning. You might see that in a big city, but here?” He gave a dismissive little shrug. “Nah.”

  “And you’re sure this is the woman you saw?”

  “I can’t be absolutely sure, but yeah. I noticed she was young and pretty, and I wondered what she was up to. She wasn’t alone, though. A car stopped and she got in. In fact, I got the impression that she’d been waiting for him.”

  Penny’s heart began to beat faster. “Do you know whose car?”

  “Oh, yeah. It was Bill Ward’s. Everybody around here knows his Land Rover. Drives like he owns the road.”

  “This is such important, critical information. Can I ask why you haven’t contacted the police?”

  The mildly sheepish look that crossed his face was quickly replaced with a defensive set to his jaw. “Well, I probably would have done under normal conditions, but that Saturday morning was my last shift before the wife and I went away on holiday. We left that afternoon, and we didn’t hear about the girl’s death until we got back.

  “We were out in Spain, and whilst we were there, the tour company we were with went broke, and we had a hell of a time getting home, I can tell you. I was that worried about how I’d pay for our extra airfare, if it came to that, and I was worried about my job as well because I was a few days late getting back. So what with everything that was going on, it slipped my mind. I suppose I should contact them now.”

  “Yes, you definitely should,” Penny said. “Believe me, the police will be very interested in what you can tell them. Well, look, I mustn’t keep you any longer. Sorry for taking up so much of your time.”

  The milkman shifted slightly, preparing to walk away, and then said, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your interest in all this? You said you weren’t a private detective, but you’re asking a lot of questions.”

  “I’m the one who found Jessica Graham’s body, and her mother asked me to look into the circumstances of her death. She wasn’t satisfied that it was an accident, as the authorities seemed to think.”

  “Oh, right. That makes sense, I guess, although isn’t that what the police are for? Anyway, look, I’ve got to get on.”

  Penny and Colin remained where they were as the milkman, glass bottles rattling cheerfully in their carrier, set off across the road.

  “Well, what would you like to do now?” Colin asked. Penny mulled that over.

  “Let’s go back to the hotel and see if the kitchen’s open. And if it is, let’s ask them to prepare us a breakfast picnic, and then I’d like to take you up on that offer you made a few weeks ago to take me to Black Point. We can watch the sun come up over the Irish Sea.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The blackness of night had lightened to grey as they spread the green plaid picnic rug the hotel had included with their breakfast on the cliff at Black Point. They lowered themselves onto the blanket and sat close to each other, Penny nestled into Colin’s side, with his arm around her. The air was fresh and cool, with a strong hint of the autumn to come, but they were wrapped up well in their jackets and their love for each other. Every five seconds a flash from the lighthouse lit up the rocky coastline, and every thirty seconds the fog bell tolled a mournful warning.

  The first hints of red and orange streaked across the sky, signalling the coming dawn. Penny reached for the flask of coffee, poured them each a cup, and then dipped into the basket the hotel had provided and handed Colin a still-warm breakfast sandwich.

  “So what do you think?” he asked as he unwrapped it.

  “I’ve been wondering why Bill Ward and Sarah Spencer moved to Anglesey from Manchester.”

  “Because it’s beautiful here for Bill’s painting?” He took a bite of his sandwich. “Sarah was offered a job at the Beaumaris Arms?”

  “Possibly. But I think there’s more to it than that. Here’s the thing. Cilla McKee, Ward’s ex-wife, told me that they—that is, Bill and Sarah—moved to Anglesey, specifically Beaumaris. But although people do move for work, as you mentioned, they usually move to a place they’re familiar with, that they know and like.”

  “That’s true. That’s exactly what they do. People often discover a small town or a resort area on holiday, and they like it so much they end up moving or retiring there,” Colin said. “Places where they were happy.”

  “So let’s talk this through. As a police detective, Bethan doesn’t allow herself to have theories or to speculate, but we can, so let’s just suppose for a minute that Sarah and Bill Ward start an affair and decide they want to be together. But Sarah’s husband, Mark Currie, proves troublesome, and he lets her know he isn’t going to go quietly. He’s from a wealthy family, and she’s named as the principal beneficiary in his will, and perhaps he reminds her that she won’t see a penny of that if they divorce, hoping that will
convince her not to leave him, but instead it has a much more sinister effect.”

  “They decide to kill him,” said Colin. “Or she decides to kill him, and Bill Ward gets roped in to help.”

  “Yes,” said Penny. “Either way, let’s assume they are in it together. They decide to kill him, but they don’t want the body found because if it looks to the authorities as if Currie’s gone off somewhere, they just have to wait seven years until he can be declared legally dead, and she stands to inherit a lot of his family’s money.”

  “Some people might think seven years is an awfully long time to wait.”

  “Yes, indeed, they might think that, and they’d be right. It is a long time. And it seems to me that anyone capable of playing such a long and complicated murder game has to be some kind of sociopath. But for Sarah Spencer, her life would go on as usual, knowing that at the end of the seven years, just when she might want to think about early retirement, Mark Currie could be declared legally dead, and she’d inherit millions while she was still young enough to enjoy them. Her choice was divorce now and get nothing, or wait seven years and inherit a fortune. So, she was prepared to wait.”

  “Makes sense. From my perspective as an investment banker, I’ve seen people wait longer than that for their investments to pay off. But it does take a special kind of patience, though.”

  “That’s a great way to look at this. As Sarah Spencer’s investment in her future. An almost-guaranteed retirement fund, if you like. She could have her cake and eat it, too. If Mark went missing before he had time to change his will, all she had to do was sit tight and she’d inherit his estate. Everything. Of course, that would mean she was still legally married to Currie for the whole seven years, and she couldn’t marry Bill Ward, but what did that matter? They could still live together, and from what his ex-wife told me, Bill Ward wouldn’t have married her, anyway.