COVER THE LIES: A TREGUNNA CORNISH CRIME NOVEL

by Carla Vermaat

  ‘You’d met Alicia before?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, we go a long way back. We went to school together. I suppose we had a sort of something going when we were teenagers, but we lost sight of one another.’

  ‘Did you see her before Saturday? Did you have a date with her? Did she tell you where she would be this Saturday?’

  ‘Oh no. I just happened to see her at Barrie’s.’ He scratches his chin. ‘We just met by chance and I bought her a drink and we got talking, that’s all.’

  ‘Was she alone?’

  ‘No, she was with a friend. Can’t remember her name, though. Dark hair. She seemed a bit pissed. Wasn’t very happy when Alicia told her that we were going off … ehm … for a drive.’

  ‘Denise.’

  ‘Huh? Yeah, that’s it. Denise.’

  ‘She wasn’t invited?’

  ‘Uhm, no.’

  As far as she was able to follow his car on the CCTV cameras, Penrose had drawn his assumed route on a map she printed off the internet, with question marks added at some junctions. I try to remember the exact route. ‘Where did you go?’

  He shrugs, finding a chip on the tree trunk that needs his immediate attention. ‘We sort of drove along the coast road to Padstow.’

  ‘Do you own a white Toyota?’

  ‘I do.’ He doesn’t seem surprised that I know that already. It occurs to me that he still hasn’t asked how Alicia died. Or why.

  ‘We were able to follow your tracks as far as the fishing pond a few miles from Padstow,’ I say. It is not entirely true, because the last appearance of his car was when he passed the petrol station in St Merryn. There was no sign of his car on the next camera on that road, and he could have taken several country roads before that.

  ‘I see.’ He looks up slowly. ‘I guess I’d better tell you the truth then, hadn’t I? Since you seem to know a lot more than I anticipated.’

  ‘That would be helpful,’ I say dryly. ‘Best to start at the beginning then, like when you saw Alicia at Barrie’s.’

  ‘Okay, but … ehm, what happened?’

  ‘In a minute, Mr Eyre. Please tell me about Saturday night.’

  His suspicion is now growing as he realises for the first time that I am not here for a cosy chat, but for a far more serious matter.

  ‘Yeah, well, my mate pointed her out, to be honest. Said what a beautiful woman she was and I realised it was her. Alicia.’

  ‘So you didn’t have a date with her last Saturday?’

  ‘Oh no, I told you, it wasn’t like that!’ He looks down onto his hands uncomfortably. ‘With my wife being away … well … ell, it can be lonely, you know. When I come home after work, there is always something to do in this house, so I haven’t had much of a social life, lately. I hadn’t been out for a while until my mate suggested going to the cinema and … but I told you that already, didn’t I? Anyway, Alicia and I met out of the blue at Barrie’s. At first, she seemed a bit distracted. She had been at Angelo’s with her friend, but something happened. Something to do with a man, I think. Someone harassing her. Anyway, that’s how they ended up in Barrie’s Bar. I’d never been in there before, you know, it isn’t my kind of scene exactly, but Alicia and her friend seemed to go there whenever they went out together. Anyway, I must have said something like I didn’t really like it in there, so she suggested going outside. We sat together for a while and then suddenly, she was talking about something else.’

  ‘Something else?’

  ‘Yeah, well, I must admit, it was a bit of a shock to me as well. I mean, I reckoned that Alicia was happily married and she didn’t … need anything else outside her marriage. But she told me that she’d heard about this group and … she’d wanted to try it out, but she didn’t want to go on her own. And she didn’t think her friend - Denise, was it? – would be interested.’

  ‘What group?’

  ‘Uhm.’ He hesitates, clearly embarrassed. ‘They call it … dogging, I think.’

  ‘Dogging?’

  ‘Yeah. I’d heard about it, but I didn’t really know … well, basically, it’s people coming together, ideally in the open air, to have sex. They get fully undressed and they … do it, with anyone else from the group. And, apparently, you can also go and watch.’

  ‘I have heard about it.’

  ‘She sort of knew someone who knew how to find out where those guys meet, I mean, men and women obviously, and she knew that one of those meetings was planned for that night.’

  ‘Saturday night?’ I try to hide my interest. This is a new, completely different development from anything I’d expected. ‘At the fishing lake?’

  ‘Yeah. In the car park. Nobody lives near there and although there are cars driving by, the road is narrow at the bridge and there are some shrubs and bushes, so I suppose you don’t see much when you drive past and don’t know about it.’

  ‘Did you two go there?’

  ‘Uhm … yes.’

  ‘And did you and Alicia …?’

  ‘Uhm, yes, we did, but we didn’t, if you know what I mean. I wasn’t keen on it to begin with, because I was going to see my wife the next day and I didn’t want to, so … but when I saw the others … it was sort of erotic, you know. Most couples stayed in their cars but a few climbed on top of them,’ he chuckles, ‘I suppose it was because it was very cold and the engines were still a bit warm. ’ He chuckles again. ‘To be very honest, inspector, it was rather exciting, like we all shared a secret. I know there were some people hiding in the dark, I mean, people who weren’t taking part of it but only watching, but that only added to the excitement.’

  ‘Alicia got undressed?’

  ‘Oh yes, we all did. That seemed to be the ‘dress-code’ if you like.’ He grins sheepishly.

  ‘What did she do with her clothes?’

  ‘I put mine in the car, on the back seat, but Alicia was a bit careless. I remember seeing that she dropped her clothes on the grass. I know that for certain because I said that the grass was wet and she wouldn’t appreciate having cold and wet clothes once we were going back, but she only laughed and said she was hot enough to steam her clothes dry.’

  ‘If I take you there, could you show me where you were at that point, and where exactly she dropped her clothes?’

  ‘I suppose I could. It was dark, but the cars were more or less parked in a circle and we all had our headlights on. Her clothes were between two cars.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘When we were … finished, I went to the side to have a pee and I assumed that Alicia would put her clothes back on. Most of the others were, you see. It was freezing out there, to be honest, so I thought that would be the end of the meeting. But when I walked back to my car, I heard that some of the others were not … finished. And Alicia was one of them. She got in someone’s car. I didn’t see him and I didn’t recognize him. Anyway, I got dressed and I sat in my car, more or less waiting until Alicia came back.’

  ‘What time was that?’ I ask, but he ignores my question.

  ‘You must believe me, inspector, I am certainly not proud of what I did. At one point, I saw her climbing out of the other car and I was … relieved that she was about to call it a day too. But then there was someone else and he took her by an arm. Now, I’m still not sure what happened then. I mean, I couldn’t hear what they said and some of the cars had already left, so, there wasn’t much light anymore. I couldn’t see if she went with the other man or not. I was about to get out and ask her how long she wanted to stay there. I was getting tired and cold and I wanted to go home. As I said, I was going to see my wife the next day and I knew it would be a long and exhausting drive. But when I walked in the direction where I’d last seen Alicia, I couldn’t find her.’

  ‘You didn’t … hear her?’

  ‘Having sex? No, she was always … quiet. Some women … make sounds, I suppose, but she didn’t. But no, I didn’t hear them talking either, so I assumed that they were … you know, busy. I got back in my car and waited.’
r />   ‘Until?’

  ‘I didn’t check the time, if that’s what you mean. But finally, there was only me. There was one van parked at the side, next to some bushes, but there didn’t seem to be anyone in it. Eventually, I got out and walked to the van, thinking that they might be inside maybe. I mean, the van was from some company, fish, I believe, but I suppose there was enough room in the back to lie down.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, that was it, really. There was no one in the van. I knocked on the doors and windows and I called her name, but I got no answer. In the end, I started to think that Alicia had gone off in one of the other cars. I didn’t have her mobile number, so I couldn’t call her. So I thought there was no point in waiting and I went home.’

  ‘Were her clothes still on the grass?’

  ‘No, I checked that, because then she would have still been around somewhere, wouldn’t she? But I thought she must have got dressed again as her clothes were gone. Perhaps she was cross with me because I told her I wanted to go home.’

  ‘What about her handbag?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Did she have it with her when you drove out of Newquay?’

  ‘Oh yes, definitely. She checked her makeup on the way. She tried her mobile, but it didn’t work and she asked if I had a charger in the car.’

  ‘She didn’t leave her handbag in your car?’

  He frowns. ‘Actually, that seems rather odd, doesn’t it? I mean, women keep all their stuff in their bags and I suppose they keep them always within reach. Sort of. Anyway, I didn’t see her handbag when she took off her clothes, but you would have thought that she would have left it in my car.’

  ‘She may have come back for it.’

  ‘Possibly, when I was having a pee. But I didn’t see her. Or her handbag.’

  ‘Did you contact her later?’

  ‘Of course I wanted to! I felt rather … ashamed that I’d sort of left her on her own there. I wanted to be sure that she had got home alright but I didn’t know her mobile number and I gave up when I was with my wife.’ He grins sheepishly again and I can guess that his sexual encounter at the lake will remain a secret from his wife.

  ‘Now inspector, what is this all about? I hope you weren’t serious when you said that Alicia is dead?’

  23

  Burke’s report on her findings regarding a connection between Torrington and Alicia Poole is in my mailbox. I print it out and attach a copy to the big whiteboard which has Alicia Poole's glamorous photo on it in the middle at the top. Arrows and lines connect her photo to other information, photos and street maps.

  My mobile rings as I return with coffee to settle behind my desk. It’s the desk officer, forwarding a call. ‘Yes Bob?’

  ‘It’s Anita.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You passed me less than fifteen minutes ago,’ she says in her abrupt way. ‘And you know that Bob is still on holiday.’

  I sigh. ‘I said I’m sorry.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She chuckles as if she’s just won a bet. ‘I have someone here who says she has information about Torrington. Maloney said you are handling the case.’

  ‘Oh.’ I sigh. ‘Can you ask her to wait until …?’

  ‘She’s a clairvoyant,’ she interrupts, as if this information has suddenly more significance.

  ‘So?’

  ‘She said she knew already that she would have to wait, but she says it is urgent.’ She chuckles again. ‘Not bad for a clairvoyant, huh?’

  ‘Right. I’d better see her then. Or does she know that already too?’

  ‘I haven’t mentioned your name,’ she replies curtly and I’m not sure if she appreciates my sense of humour.

  Linda Hampton introduces herself as a clairvoyant and a tarot card reader. She’s in her early forties, wearing a black velvet dress with multiple strings of coloured glass beads round her neck and several bracelets round both wrists. Her hair is dyed black with a tuft of white on one side of her forehead and her eyes have a thick line of charcoal eyeliner and blue mascara. There is a silver stud in her nose and when she rises to her feet and smiles to greet me, I see another one in her tongue.

  'Mrs Hampton, how can I help you?’ I say, shaking her hand and making the bracelets jangle.

  ‘I’m here to help you with the investigation of the death of Wilbur Torrington,’ she replies grandly, then, almost immediately, her confidence slips off as she sniffs loudly and wipes her nose with the side of her hand.

  ‘Shall we find somewhere quiet and more private?’ I suggest, pointing at the open door of interview room 1.

  ‘I’d prefer that.’ She nods quietly, fiddling with a handbag made of pieces of coloured leather which are sewn together with large stitches.

  ‘I'm sorry,’ she says with a rather husky voice. ‘I'm still shocked about Wilbur. I just can’t believe it.’

  We enter the interview room and she sits down as if she has walked for miles and the exercise has exhausted her.

  ‘Can I offer you a cup of tea or coffee, Mrs Hampton? It’s not the best in the world but it will do for the moment.’

  ‘Thank you. Black tea please. No sugar.’

  I look at the desk officer who is staring at me as if I am some kind of creature of some endangered species. If it was SpongeRob, I would ask him politely to fetch me a coffee and a tea, both black, but since he is on holiday and the only person currently behind the desk is the woman whose name I keep forgetting. She looks at me across the hall and, reading my thoughts, lifts her chin provocatively as if she is challenging me to the final round in a competition. Our eyes meet and we fight a silent battle of wills until the phone rings on the desk and she has to answer it.

  Behind me, Linda Hampton is sniffing and blowing her nose repeatedly, and I don’t want to leave her alone in the depressing little interview room. Patiently, I wait at the desk for the officer to end the call.

  ‘Would you be so kind to get us a black coffee and a black tea?’ I ask, using my friendliest tone and carefully avoiding her name to prevent myself from getting caught in embarrassment.

  She smiles sarcastically. ‘Of course, no problem, Detective Inspector.’

  I nod and smile, not sure if she is taking the Mickey or offering me an olive branch. I leave the door ajar and sit down opposite Linda Hampton who is now sobbing quietly.

  'How did you know Wilbur Torrington, Mrs Hampton?’

  ‘We met years ago when we both worked in a supermarket. We never really lost contact.’ Her bottom lip trembles and her eyes are like dark puddles.

  ‘What is the nature of your relationship, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  She straightens and touches the white tuft on her forehead. ‘Uhm … we weren’t in a relationship as such, if that is what you mean, but … I’d like to think that he and I are … were good friends,’ she replies quietly. ‘I am a clairvoyant, inspector. Every so often, he used to come to see me and I’d read the cards for him.’

  ‘Cards?’

  ‘Tarot cards. Contrary to what people sometimes think, Tarot cards can’t change future events, but they can help people to anticipate them. Wilbur believed in them and found comfort when he was in a dark place.’

  ‘Was he often in a dark place?’ I ask, thinking about his life and responsibility for his father.

  ‘Not often, but … sometimes. He came more often than most of my clients,’ she explains, holding up her head with pride and a touch of arrogance. ‘Most times he came to have the cards read for … reassurance, if you like.’ Her cheeks are regaining their pink colour. She seems to be recovering her normal control by talking about her obvious passion. ‘Some people let their lives be ruled by the cards, but that is not what the Tarot was intended for.’

  ‘Would you say that Wilbur Torrington was someone who relied on those cards for choices he had to make?’

  ‘No, certainly not, but he always felt more confident after our sessions.’

  ‘When did you last see him
?’

  She swallows, the memory flooding back. Tears are running down her cheeks. She is in the real world now, where the cards have no place.

  ‘That was Saturday night.’ She sniffs and blows her nose in a paper napkin that smells of patchouli and ginger. ‘Just after midnight.'

  Against all odds, I feel myself tense. After Chris Eyre’s revelation about Alicia Poole and what was going on in the car park by the lake that night, this looks like there could be another bombshell in the investigation into Wilbur Torrington’s death.

  The desk officer appears in the doorway, pushing the door open with a foot, her serious face. With a polite, ‘sir’ she comes in with coffee and tea. Both liquids are so dark that I can hardly tell which one is which.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, making a mental note to get her name right next time.

  ‘I am sorry I didn’t come sooner,’ Linda Hampton says softly. ‘But I promised Wilbur that I would not tell anyone, and I wouldn’t, but now that he is dead … it doesn’t matter anymore.’

  ‘I hope we can find out what happened to him,’ I say gently. ‘Hopefully with your help we can achieve that.’

  She blows her nose again. ‘How did he die?’

  ‘We are not sure yet,’ I reply carefully. ‘We’re still waiting for the post-mortem report.’ Inwardly, I curse Guthrie, who seems to be convinced that Wilbur Torrington’s death was an accident and consequently, the post-mortem has not been brought forward on the pathologist’s list.

  ‘I read that he fell from the cliffs at Bedruthan Steps,’ the clairvoyant continues. ‘Was he murdered?’

  I frown. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because he was afraid of heights. He would never get close to the edge of cliffs.’ She looks down at her hands, her fingers playing with a string of silver and red beads as if she is praying. ‘From what he told me that night, I thought he could have been murdered. Just like that poor woman.’

  I shift slightly in my chair, hoping that my expression hasn’t changed. But she senses a flicker of interest and a tiny smile lifts the corners of her mouth.