The Smuggler's Daughter

by Kerry Barrett

  ‘This is more like it,’ said Liv out of the corner of her mouth as she passed me with two more coffees. ‘If only we could get coach trips like this every day.’

  ‘You’ll have to get them to spread the word,’ I said.

  She nodded. I watched her go over to Barbara and Neil – who were clearly the organisers of the trip – and put the coffees in front of them, pausing to chat.

  And then my eye was caught by one of the men. I’d not really noticed him before – hadn’t even see him come in with the others. He was a bit younger than the rest of them, and while they were all in walking gear, he was wearing jeans and trainers. He was standing by one of the tables and he was holding Jan’s distinctive bright blue bag. I watched in horror as he slid open the zip, put his hand inside and then pulled out her purse.

  ‘Stop!’ I shouted. Without pausing to think, I was across the pub in two strides. I saw a glimpse of the man’s alarmed face as I grabbed his wrist and pulled it up behind his back. ‘Put. That. Down,’ I hissed into his ear.

  He dropped the purse straightaway. The pub had gone silent as soon as I shouted. Everyone was stock still, watching me. I went to pick up the purse but I was still holding the man’s wrist and it was awkward and before I could reach it, a hand reached out and took it. Jan. Slowly, she stood up, holding her purse and looking at me in disbelief.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’

  ‘This man was stealing your purse, I said, breathlessly. ‘I am making an arrest.’ Everyone gawped at me and I corrected myself. ‘A citizen’s arrest.’

  Jan sighed. ‘Let him go,’ she said.

  ‘He took your purse out of your bag,’ I said.

  ‘Because I asked him to.’

  I blinked at her.

  ‘He’s my husband,’ she said. ‘He was going to get us more drinks while I went to the loo.’

  I dropped his wrist as though it was hot and stared at him.

  ‘Your husband,’ I repeated. ‘I thought …’

  Jan glared at me and I regretted my earlier admiring thoughts about her. ‘You were wrong.’

  Everyone stayed silent for a second. I could feel their eyes boring into me, then Liv – bless her – spoke up. ‘More drinks, was it? Another red wine for you?’

  Jan shook her head. ‘I think we’re done here.’

  Around me, the other customers were spurred into action, finishing drinks, pulling on their cagoules.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said helplessly. Jan and her husband ignored me.

  One by one the customers trooped out of the pub into the wild, rainy evening that was – it seemed – preferable to spending one more minute in close proximity to me. Only Barbara turned back as they were leaving to say a quick ‘thank you’ to Liv.

  As the door banged shut, Liv glared at me.

  ‘What the fuck, Phoebe?’ she said.

  I felt awful. I’d been so sure the man was up to no good, and then so wrong. Again.

  ‘I’m sorry, I just saw him with her bag and acted out of instinct.’

  ‘But your instincts are whack. What’s wrong with you? First that woman with the little girl in Kirrinporth, now this?’

  I sat down in the chair where Jan had sat just five minutes earlier and buried my face in my hands. ‘I’m not sure what to say, Liv,’ I said eventually, lifting my head up and looking at her. ‘I’m so sorry. I was doing much better, and then the rain and Jed …’

  Liv’s face softened. ‘I know.’

  ‘But I still chased away the best customers we’d had for days.’

  ‘I know that too.’

  ‘Listen, why don’t we brainstorm some ideas,’ I said, desperate to make it up to her. ‘We could do that ghost evening or something. Get some more customers in?’

  She looked at me and for a second I thought she’d say no. But then she gave a tiny smile. ‘Yeah, okay. You get a pen and paper and I’ll go to the loo.’ She gave me a sly look. ‘Make sure no one nicks anything while I’m gone.’

  I stuck my middle finger up at her, relieved – and slightly surprised – that she was being so chilled about it all. I went behind the bar to find the notebook I knew Liv kept there, and then settled myself on a stool to wait for her. As I sat down, the phone next to me lit up with a message. I glanced at it, thinking it was mine, and read the first part of the message on the screen. The sender was BTG Bank and it said: ‘We have received your payment of £5000. This will show on your credit card account within …’

  What? How could Liv have paid £5000 off her credit card debt? I must have read it wrong. But before I could be tempted to touch the screen and light up the message again, she came back into the bar.

  ‘What have you got?’ she said. She picked up her phone and I saw her read the message and give a tiny, odd smile. Then she put the phone into her pocket and grinned at me. ‘Wow me with your thoughts.’

  Slightly unsettled, I held up the blank page to show her.

  ‘It’s a team effort,’ I said.

  We took a bottle of wine, and sat in the bar, scribbling down ideas, while the wind blew a gale outside and rattled the windows. Our ideas were all fairly silly and I wasn’t sure any of them would increase business, but at least we were doing something. Because, I told myself, I must have got it wrong about that £5000. Liv still needed the pub to be successful.

  ‘What about murder mystery nights?’ I suggested.

  ‘It’s not 1988,’ she said. ‘Do people still do those?’

  I whacked her with the notepad on her arm. ‘They’re very popular.’

  ‘Is that what you do with your police mates?’ she teased. ‘Solving pretend murders for fun?’

  I chuckled. ‘No,’ I said. Then I smiled. ‘Well, I’ve been to a couple.’

  Liv whooped in triumph. ‘I knew it!’ She grinned at me. ‘How’s your investigation into Emily Moon going, by the way?’

  I shrugged. I’d been half-heartedly googling the history of Cornwall while the weather had been bad, but the Wi-Fi was so slow it made it hard work. I’d also been reading the ghost story book, but I’d not found anything else of interest. Instead, I’d been thinking about Jed and trying to resist messaging him, and wondering why he’d lied about the beach being inaccessible. ‘Not well,’ I told Liv. ‘I’ve not found out anything about poor Emily Moon and her ghostly wailing. Unless you count the fact that the ghostly wailing isn’t her.’

  ‘I do count that,’ Liv said, straight-faced. ‘Because I was worried.’ Then she frowned. ‘But how did you find that out?’

  I’d not told Liv about my run along the clifftop, other than that I’d been. I’d not mentioned the wind blowing through the boulders, nor Jed and Mark on the beach. I didn’t want to worry her, or make myself sound any more “whack” as she called it, than I already did.

  ‘Up on the cliffs there are these huge grey stones,’ I said.

  She nodded. ‘I’ve seen them.’

  ‘And they have holes in them that the wind blows through. And when it catches at a certain angle, it makes a weird crying sound.’

  ‘That’s amazing,’ Liv said in wonder. ‘So that’s where the stories come from?’

  ‘Must be. I think I was just lucky to be on the cliff at the right time. I messaged my vicar friend about it and he said he’s lived here his whole life and never heard it.’

  ‘Well, if we want to make some money out of ghost hunters, keep quiet about it,’ Liv said. Just then, as though to warn us that we shouldn’t joke about spooks, there was a loud thump from outside the pub and another. We both leapt into the air and clutched each other. ‘What was that?’ I said. ‘Is someone there?’

  Thump! There it was again. Liv and I froze, listening carefully, and then as understanding dawned on Liv’s face, she started to laugh once more.

  ‘It’s the shutter,’ she said. ‘Outside the window. It must have come loose and it’s banging in the wind. I’ll sort it.’

  She stood up but as she did, she knocked the table and our half-dr
unk bottle of wine fell on to the pub’s stone floor and smashed. ‘Bollocks.’

  ‘You sort the glass; I’ll do the shutter,’ I said. Without much enthusiasm, we both trailed over to the cupboard where I grabbed my rain jacket and Liv found the dustpan and brush. I pulled my waterproof on and, bracing myself, headed outside into the wild night. It was supposed to have cleared up by now, I thought, as the rain splattered my face. The forecast yesterday said tonight would be fair. ‘Fairly awful, more like,’ I mumbled. I found the loose shutter and fixed it back against the wall, bending over the little metal hook to make sure it stayed in place.

  As I turned to go back inside, though, my eye was caught by a light up on the cliff. It was a steady beam – not flashing or flickering – so it definitely looked electric rather than ethereal, to my relief. It wasn’t moving, so it wasn’t someone with a torch, and strangely enough, it was blue. A deep blue light shining out across the sea.

  I squinted at it, half expecting the light to start flashing and reveal itself to be a police car or an ambulance. But no, it was still and steady. A small bit of me wanted to walk up to the cliff and see what it was, but a much larger part of me wanted to get inside, out of the rain, and not risk plummeting on to the rocks in the dark windy evening. So I turned my back on the light, and went to find Liv.

  Chapter 28

  The storm went on all night and kept me awake for hours. Every bang and thud made me jump, and sent my heart pounding. I felt unsettled and on edge and I kept going over everything in my head.

  What were Jed and Mark doing on the beach? It was ridiculous to be suspicious because it was, after all, a pretty little cove and this was a seaside town in summer. But he had definitely told me you couldn’t get down there. Why had he lied? And, he’d said something different about the Watson family leaving The Moon Girl. Though that could easily be a misunderstanding, I told myself. Couldn’t it?

  Then there was Liv’s text message from the credit card company. Where had she got £5000 from and why hadn’t she told me about it? It was the not telling me that made me particularly uneasy, because we didn’t have secrets. Not really. And that made me wonder if she’d done something wrong. But then wondering if she’d done something wrong made me feel guilty. Was it me being unnecessarily suspicious again? After all, Liv had always had a very strong moral code and she’d always been proud of me for being in the police. But then again, she was in such a weird mood.

  I turned over in bed and thumped the pillow to get it in a better position. This was silly. I was seeing things that weren’t there because of what had happened with Ciara James. First, I’d seen the little girl in Kirrinporth all alone when her mother was close behind, then I’d branded Jan’s husband as a thief. Now I was suspecting Liv of doing goodness knows what to get her hands on five grand. It was crazy. I had to get a grip. So what if Jed lied, and Liv was acting strange, and the last family to live here disappeared, and I had niggling doubts about how trustworthy Ewan Logan was …

  I sat up in bed. It was still darkish and Liv was asleep, but I couldn’t stay here tossing and turning and imagining all sorts. I was going to send myself spiralling right back into the gloom I’d felt after Ciara had died if I wasn’t careful.

  Quietly, so I didn’t wake Liv, I slipped out of bed, picked up my Cornwall ghost book and my phone, and pulled on my dressing gown. Then I went downstairs and made myself a coffee on the fancy machine that I was finally getting the hang of, and went outside into the little pub garden.

  The Moon Girl’s outdoor space wasn’t fancy but it had the most incredible view across the cliffs and along to Kirrinporth harbour. The sun was coming up and the grey morning light shone on the flat sea. I felt my mood lift, just a tiny bit, and tried not to notice that the beach – the little cove where I’d seen Jed – wasn’t visible from here.

  Obviously it was raining. Not heavily, just a light drizzle. But I sat under the porch and watched the sun rise, scrolling through my sluggish social media feeds and leafing through the ghost book. I just wanted to distract myself from my intrusive thoughts and calm my racing brain.

  Eventually, when the sun was properly up and the rain had almost stopped, and I’d read all the showbiz news on the Mail online, even the bits about random American reality TV stars that I’d never heard of, I thought I should probably get dressed. And I was starting to get hungry. Liv would be up by now and maybe we could have breakfast together.

  Back inside, I put my coffee cup on the bar. The shutters were open so Liv was clearly around but I couldn’t hear her moving around and she was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Liv?’ I called. Nothing.

  Tying the belt on my dressing gown more securely, I wandered through the pub, out into the hallway behind the bar, and jumped about a foot in the air as Liv appeared through a door I’d barely noticed before.

  ‘Oh God,’ I gasped, dropping my ghost book on the floor with a thud. ‘Shit, Liv.’

  She looked as startled as I was. ‘Phoebe.’

  ‘What’s in there?’

  She glanced behind her guiltily, as though I’d caught her robbing a bank. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Just the cellar.’

  ‘God, of course. I’m so stupid. Sorry, Liv.’

  She relaxed, leaning against the door. ‘You just gave me a fright that’s all. I wasn’t expecting to see you. I thought you’d gone running.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you, either. I thought you were still in bed.’

  ‘I wish,’ she said.

  We stood there in the hallway, weirdly awkward for two best friends, for a second. Then Liv’s phone rang making us both jump again. She yanked it out of her pocket and I saw Ewan Logan on the screen. ‘Hi,’ she said, answering the call. She turned away from me a bit and I recognised my cue to leave.

  ‘I’ll get dressed,’ I said.

  She looked over her shoulder at me and nodded. ‘It’s all sorted,’ she said into the phone. ‘Everything’s fine.’

  I went upstairs feeling my mind starting to race again. Liv was being so weird and I didn’t understand why, just that it was definitely something to do with Ewan Logan.

  As I stood under the shower, I went over everything in my head. Liv’s unexplained windfall and her odd behaviour. Jed and Mark on the beach. The Watson family leaving the pub in the way they had. Nothing made any sense. I needed to do something. Perhaps it was just me seeing problems everywhere. Perhaps it was all part of the way I’d reacted to Ciara’s death and my excessively suspicious nature. But I couldn’t just ignore it.

  I wrapped a towel round my hair, pulled on my dressing gown and went out on to the landing to see where Liv was. Her mug of coffee had been drunk and I could hear her downstairs in the pub, so I quietly went back into the bedroom, shut the door and pulled out my phone. Then I called Stacey from my team at work.

  She was so pleased to hear from me, I felt a tiny pang about missing work – the first I’d had since I was signed off. We chatted for a few minutes and then I paused. ‘I need a bit of a favour,’ I said.

  ‘What are you up to?’

  ‘Nothing dodgy, I promise,’ I said, crossing my fingers as I spoke. ‘We can’t track down the old landlord from this place. Liv’s asked head office and they don’t seem to have a forwarding address for him. We’ve found some of his belongings that we need to return. Wondered if you could check it out?’

  ‘Okay.’ Stacey sounded doubtful. ‘What’s his name and last known address?’

  I told her what I knew.

  ‘And he’s in Cornwall now?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Mike Watson isn’t exactly an unusual name so there will probably be a few of them.’

  ‘I know. Just give me whatever you can find.’

  Stacey sighed. ‘Promise it’s nothing dodgy?’

  ‘It’s me, Stacey.’

  ‘Might take a few days.’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  She paused. ‘Fine,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ll give yo
u a ring when I’ve got something.’

  ‘Actually, Stacey,’ I said. ‘Could you check someone else for me too?’

  ‘Go on then.’

  ‘Ewan Logan.’

  ‘Address?’

  ‘Don’t have it. Cornwall somewhere.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything.’

  ‘Thanks, Stacey. I owe you.’

  We said our goodbyes and I ended the call, feeling slightly as though I’d just betrayed Liv’s confidence.

  It was another quiet day at The Moon Girl. Few customers, no sign of Ewan, and no message from Jed. Liv was distracted and uncommunicative all day and eventually I gave up and went to bed early, feeling more than a little miserable.

  Fortunately, I woke the next morning to glorious sunshine. It was nothing if not inconsistent, this Cornwall weather. But just the sight of the brightness peeking round the curtains raised my spirits. Liv was already out of bed, and I was in no hurry to see her, so I grabbed my running stuff from the clothes horse in the bathroom and headed outside to make the most of the day before the rain started again. I did the same route as before, along the cliff path, telling myself I was just going for exercise. I just wanted to get some endorphins. That was all. There was nothing else to it.

  But, as I came back to near the pub, I slowed down, just a bit, and crossed over from the clifftop path, which ran along beside the road, to the edge of the cliff, where I’d seen Jed and Mark come up from the beach.

  I stopped, doing a couple of half-hearted stretches in case anyone was watching me. There was a small stone marker hidden in the long grass that told me I was in the right place, and a sandy, gravelly break in the vegetation that had to be the top of the path down to the cove. I peered down. It looked steep. Very steep. And not particularly stable. But I knew Jed and Mark had climbed it, so I knew it was possible.

  Was I really going to do this? Really? What if I ended up like Emily Moon? Another Moon Girl spirit doomed to walk the clifftops for eternity? I snorted at my own ridiculousness. And, with a deep breath, I put one foot on to the path and set off.