by Tom Bale
‘Don’t you try and sweet-talk me. I’ve just spoken to Denny Sorrill. There’s no one called Kamila working on the Lambert account. No Joe Carter, either.’
She faced Joe, while gesturing at her husband. ‘He’s been screwing around again, hasn’t he? What are you? The husband? Lawyer? Private detective?’
‘Darling, it’s not like that. Please let me explain—’
Pearse started to rise, but his wife spun and landed a solid blow to his cheek, knocking him off-balance. He stumbled against the chair and fell as it toppled backwards under his weight. As he lay sprawled on the floor, there was a moment when she seemed tempted to kick him in the balls. Instead she gave him a scornful glance, as though he wasn’t worth the effort, then turned and marched out, oblivious to the shock and amusement of the other customers.
Pearse looked stunned. He didn’t move as Joe stood up, shaking his head.
‘I have to say, that’s far less than you deserve.’
Leon thought the meeting with Diana had gone well. Running through it later with Fenton, they agreed he’d got the tone just right.
‘Given what’s happened, it’s quite natural for us to be suspicious of Joe,’ Fenton said. ‘Therefore we have to remain suspicious, even though we know precisely who he is.’
It had been Leon’s idea to employ reverse psychology. Deliver a warning that Joe had to stop snooping, and it was bound to have the opposite effect. He’d aimed to give Diana just enough of a scare that Joe would feel duty-bound to stay and protect her.
‘I imagine Glenn felt rather compromised?’ Fenton said.
‘Nah, he was okay.’ Leon told him about Joe hooking up with Ellie Kipling. Fenton giggled, rubbing his chubby palms together.
‘Wonderful! Another reason for him to stay.’
‘Though Christ knows what they all see in her. Mouthy bitch. I keep telling Rawle he ought to shut that fucking library down.’
Fenton looked troubled. ‘Of course, when we sell Joe to Morton and he disappears, we’ll now have Ellie to contend with, as well as Diana.’
‘I know. Cross that bridge when we come to it, eh?’
But it might not be too far off. Their contact in London was confident he’d have a phone number for Danny Morton by tomorrow morning.
All coming together nicely, Leon thought. Just as long as Joe hadn’t done a runner today.
Fifty-Eight
THE JOURNEY BACK to Trelennan took longer. A lot more traffic on the road, and a slower average speed, but thankfully not too many holdups. Nothing to distract Joe from his thoughts.
Pearse’s account seemed plausible, including the tacit admission that he’d lied to Kamila. Joe could well envisage a creep like Pearse posing as a wealthy bachelor, offering the prospect of a genuine relationship. Perhaps Kamila had discovered the truth and taken revenge by stealing from him.
Then again, maybe she was the bad apple in the family, or simply an untamed spirit who felt entitled to a tangible reward in exchange for sex with Jamie Pearse. Either way, Joe didn’t doubt that she’d used the proceeds to pay for a couple of months’ travelling before ending up in Newquay. Since then, perhaps shame or guilt – plus the fear of prosecution – had deterred her from returning to London.
From Joe’s perspective, he’d made some enquiries, which had proved inconclusive, and there was no one to whom he could report his findings. That ought to be the end of it.
Stopping to refuel at a service station near Okehampton, he bought himself a sandwich and a Coke. He wanted five minutes to sit back, shut his eyes and let his mind wander.
After stealing from Pearse, Kamila hadn’t completely gone to ground – she’d remained in touch with her sister for weeks. She had a penchant for wealthy, powerful men, and she had taunted Pearse about finding a better candidate. Her final conversation with Alise had mentioned Trelennan, and Leon Race. And now Alise appeared to be missing …
Too much there to dismiss. But Diana wanted him gone within a few days. If he intended to keep digging, he would have to find new accommodation.
Another option was to head for London. Someone at the hotel where Kamila had worked might have an address for Alise. But after his narrow escape in Bristol, going anywhere near the Mortons’ home territory seemed almost suicidally dangerous.
Joe made it back to Trelennan without reaching any firm decision. Now he had to steel himself for another confrontation with Diana. She had talked of continual pressure. Well, the best way to relieve that pressure was to get the truth out in the open.
He opened the front door, calling her name. There was a response from the lounge. Not a voice, but the clunk of glass on wood.
He found her slumped in an armchair, one arm bent into her lap, the other stretched towards a low table, her hand loosely enfolding a heavy glass beaker as though she couldn’t quite bring herself to let it go. The beaker held an inch of whisky. A half-empty bottle of Glenfiddich sat on the table.
She struggled to lift her head and focus on him. Her cheeks were bright red and stained with tears, her eyes puffy and unbearably sad. She could have been twenty years older than the woman who had opened the door to him on Tuesday night.
‘Oh God, Diana …’ He was furious with himself for having departed on bad terms, but Diana was shaking her head.
‘Glenn,’ she said, then clamped her mouth shut. A shudder ran through her. The glass slipped from her hand, toppling to the floor in a splash of single malt.
‘Come on.’ Joe helped her up, Diana suddenly frantic: a clumsy uncoordinated panic as he frogmarched her to the downstairs toilet. They made it with about a second to spare.
He held her while she vomited, lightly rubbing her back, making soothing noises. He hadn’t done anything like this for years. Not since he’d ceased to be a father to his daughters.
When she was done, she washed her face with cold water and he handed her a towel. She wiped her mouth. Tried to smile but couldn’t quite bring it off. She was still unsteady on her feet, so he took her arm and led her back to the lounge, batting away her apologies.
He put the kettle on, fetched a glass of cold water and a packet of Nurofen. Found a cloth to mop up the whisky.
‘I’m so sorry, Joe.’ Already her voice was clearer.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve spent all day drinking?’
‘No. Slept some of it. And wept. Slept and wept.’ She giggled, gesturing at the Glenfiddich. ‘That’s Roy’s. Found it in the cupboard. I don’t even like whisky.’
‘Good job. You might have drunk the whole bottle otherwise.’
He rinsed the cloth out in the kitchen sink, made strong coffee with plenty of sugar and encouraged her to eat a couple of biscuits. She was crying again, her chest heaving gently as she stared at the coffee mug cradled in her hands.
‘If it felt like I’ve been interrogating you, it’s only because I’m worried.’ Joe said nothing more until she made eye contact with him. ‘Ever since I arrived I’ve had the feeling that you’re in trouble. Even when you keep insisting you’re fine. But you’re not, are you?’
Diana shook her head, as forlorn as a little girl caught cheating in an exam. Her hands trembled as she lifted the coffee and drank. She swallowed, then exhaled gratefully.
‘I’ve been lying to you, Joe, for your own sake. That’s why I didn’t want you to get involved with Alise, or Leon. I know what you’re like.’
‘Stubborn,’ he said. ‘Same as Roy.’
She sniffed. Rubbed her nose with the side of her hand. ‘They were here this morning – Leon and Glenn. Asking where you’d gone.’
Joe was intrigued by that, but set it aside for now. ‘Let’s start at the beginning, when you moved down here. Something happened between Roy and Leon Race, didn’t it?’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because he was a good cop, with the best instincts for people that I ever saw.’
Diana smiled sadly. ‘When Glenn came round to quote for the extension, Roy thought he was a fla
sh bastard. Said he could charm the knickers off Mother Teresa.’
Joe winced. But there was no going back now. He had to tell her.
Then Diana said, ‘The first year we were here, a woman came to stay with us. She was searching for her missing daughter.’ She stopped, fearfully, as though she expected Joe to rage at her. But he merely nodded: Go on.
‘It was similar to the tale Alise told you. A young woman had vanished without trace. From St Ives, I think, but some vague reference had led her mother to Trelennan.’
‘And Roy offered to help?’
‘He jumped at the chance. For all his dreams of a new life, this wasn’t really what he wanted. There was always a ton of jobs to do, but nothing that got his adrenalin pumping. Whereas this, a bit of bona fide detective work …’
‘How did it get onto Leon’s radar?’ Joe asked.
‘You said it yourself the other day. Not much happens round here without him knowing. Roy was already convinced that Leon was up to his neck in crime, so that made a place to start.’ Diana sighed. ‘Even when the mother gave up and went home, Roy refused to let it go. He was making a nuisance of himself, following the security vans, trying to call in favours from the local police. Of course, they took a dim view: this retired big-shot London cop, trying to show his country cousins how to do their job.’
‘Hmm. Roy wasn’t always the most tactful of men.’
‘Quite. All he did was rub them up the wrong way.’
‘And incurred Leon’s wrath at the same time.’ Joe hesitated a moment, then pressed on. ‘Look, Diana, I’m sorry but I have to say this, but it’s not just about Leon. It’s Glenn, as well.’
‘What do you mean?’
He had to force himself to say it. ‘I think he was deceiving you from the beginning.’
Fifty-Nine
GLENN CALLED LEON at three o’clock to report that Diana’s car was parked on the drive.
‘I haven’t actually seen him. I could go in, but after this morning …’
Leon agreed it wasn’t wise. ‘So was he with Ellie?’
‘No. I’ve just been to see her.’ Even allowing for the slight distortion caused by the speakerphone, Glenn sounded miserable as hell. Leon grinned at Fenton, whose shrug seemed to say: Everyone knows women are nothing but strife.
‘Sent you away with a flea in your ear, did she?’
Glenn ignored the question. ‘I’ve told her if she sees him any more she’s in trouble.’
Leon ended the call, and smiled pleasantly at Fenton. ‘Relief that he’s back.’
‘I’d feel more secure if we knew where he went.’
‘Yeah, but I don’t want Glenn barging in there now. We gave her a good scare this morning. Now we play it cool.’ He thought for a moment. ‘You remember that text we saw on the other one’s phone, about some feller in Dorset? I bet he followed up on it.’
‘So still probing, then.’
‘It doesn’t matter, not now we have Danny Morton on the horizon.’
He glanced at his laptop, saw a new email from Giles Quinton-Price. He scanned the message, then opened the attachment that came with it.
‘Problem?’ Fenton leaned forward, puffing as his belly squashed against his knees.
Leon didn’t respond immediately: too busy reading.
‘It’s from the journalist. The article’s all ready to go.’
‘Favourable, I hope?’
Fenton sounded uneasy: Leon could have taken offence at that. But he was in a good mood. Joe was back within their grasp. Diana had been put in her place. And now this …
He beamed. ‘What else could it be, Clive? Didn’t you have any faith in the man?’
Diana said, ‘First, let me just say I have no defence. What I did was unforgivable.’
‘Your affair started when Roy was still alive?’
She nodded, then gave a hopeless laugh. ‘It all went wrong when we came down here. Running a B&B is like being a housewife, multiplied by ten. Roy had this image of himself as “mine host”, swanning around with a drink and a cigar while I did the cooking, and the cleaning, and the laundry. That only drove us further apart.’
‘So when Glenn showed an interest …’
‘I succumbed. I know it’s appalling, but I was so lonely. So unhappy.’
‘Di, I do understand. I remember how you felt on the night of the retirement party. You don’t have to justify yourself.’
‘But I do. It’s been eating away at me for years.’
‘When it began, was Glenn working at Leon’s place?’
‘I think so. There were months where he was going back and forth, and doing other jobs as well.’ Her voice was stuttering with shame, and then she saw the look on Joe’s face and said, ‘What do you mean – Glenn was deceiving me?’
‘If Roy was being a nuisance, then Leon needed to neutralise him somehow. But with an ex-cop he couldn’t do anything too drastic. The wisest option was to find out precisely what kind of threat he posed. And the best way to do that was to place a spy in the camp.’
Joe tensed, anticipating every sort of reaction except the one that he got.
Diana nodded, quite calmly. ‘You mean Glenn was told to seduce me? It’s almost funny. If you’d suggested this to me at any time prior to this morning I’d have thrown you out on your ear. But I’ve spent most of the day working myself towards the same conclusion.’
‘It wasn’t necessarily quite so mercenary. To have lasted this long, there had to have been some genuine feelings.’
‘Maybe. I don’t know any more.’
‘What happened today? Did they threaten you?’
‘Not exactly,’ Diana said. But then she shuddered. ‘Leon’s clever. He just said that you were starting to remind him of Roy, which I took to be a warning of sorts.’
Joe was shocked. ‘Did Leon have something to do with Roy’s death?’
‘He contributed to it. When Glenn landed the contract at Leon’s, Roy thought he could exploit that. He made a somewhat ham-fisted attempt to entrap Leon, but it went wrong. Afterwards, Roy refused to talk about it. He was never the same again. The fight went out of him. His health deteriorated.’
‘What about the affair? I don’t see how Roy wouldn’t have been aware of it.’
‘No.’ Diana sounded deeply ashamed. ‘I kept it secret for a while. He was so preoccupied with Leon. But eventually he worked it out.’
‘And how did he react?’
‘Look, Joe. Some things have to …’ Her voice choked up. ‘He was … he took a sensible view. We’d had no sex life to speak of for years.’
‘But even if he forgave you, surely he wasn’t happy to let it continue?’
‘He wasn’t given the choice.’
‘What?’
‘That’s another thing I’ve only just worked out. I think Leon forced him to accept it.’
They took a break, moving to the kitchen because the smell of spilt whisky was making Diana nauseous. Joe refilled the coffee machine and made cheese on toast, and all the time he was trying to process what he’d heard. Leon forced him to accept it.
‘Okay, so they told you to warn me off,’ he said. ‘But what are they hiding?’
‘I really have no idea. And frankly I don’t care.’ She took his hand and squeezed it. ‘I have a lot of horrible mistakes on my conscience. I don’t want to add you to that list.’
He grinned. ‘Neither do I.’
‘I’m serious.’ She told him what Leon had said to her this morning, picking away at Joe’s past. ‘If they had any inkling of your history they wouldn’t hesitate to capitalise on it.’
‘But you didn’t give them anything?’
‘No. When they asked where you’d gone, I suggested you might be with Ellie. I thought that was a fairly safe way of shifting their interest.’
‘Good idea,’ Joe said, though he would have to make sure that Ellie wasn’t at risk of any reprisals.
‘Are you seeing her again?’ Diana said, none too su
btle code for: Are you sleeping with her?
‘Maybe. We’re only friends, Diana.’
‘It’s none of my business. Of course, I take back what I said about you leaving. Although, to be honest, it might be safer if you went.’
‘Let’s take it a day at a time, shall we?’
‘All right.’ A tense moment, before she said, ‘Will you carry on working for Leon?’
Joe sighed. There was no denying that he was in a perilous position. The fact that Roy had tried to bring Leon down meant that Leon would be especially vigilant against further attempts, perhaps to the point of paranoia.
‘I know you want me to say no. I know it’s probably the wisest thing to do. But I can’t give in to bullies, Diana. And I can’t shake off the idea that Alise’s disappearance is linked to the fact that she was seen talking to me.’
Once again, Diana surprised him with her response. ‘You make me even more ashamed of the coward I’ve become. You’re never going to take the easy way out, are you?’
‘Believe me, I wish I could,’ Joe said. ‘I guess it’s just not in my nature.’
Sixty
JENNY WOKE TO confusion, to fear and self-loathing. Was this the fifth day, or was it still day four? How long had she slept: a nap, or a full night?
It was impossible to say. His last visit had been in the middle of the night, or so he had said. Afterwards it occurred to her that she had been awake when he came, which meant her sleeping patterns must be badly off-kilter.
Since that visit she had slept at least once, but possibly twice, and now she had absolutely no idea what time it was. Her precious calendar was already worthless.
And she was overdue a visit. She knew that from the state of the bucket, from the smell that clung to her nostrils. Something was wrong: some kind of crisis or interruption to his own routine, which invariably had repercussions for her.
If she was in the mood to take any comfort from the situation, she could tell herself that at least now she knew the score. What had he told her?
I didn’t kill her. She died.