by Rena George
Lawrence Kemp was as tall as Sam, but skinnier. His sandy hair was thinning at the front but reached below the collar of his black and white check shirt. His jeans were splattered with paint, and frayed at the knees. Sam was never sure if this was a fashion trend, or just ordinary working clothes. In Kemp’s case he suspected the latter.
He didn’t seem surprised to see them, but Sam thought the man was definitely agitated as he stepped aside to allow them into the room. It was warm and surprisingly cosy. A battered sofa had been tidied up by the addition of a multi-coloured throw. Table lamps, with shades askew, had been placed at various points around the room. An ancient portable TV sat on low bookcase.
Lawrence indicated the sofa, but Sam crossed the room to lean against a table, arms casually folded. Will, too, remained standing. Kemp did the same, but he appeared to have regained some of his composure and picked up a pouch of tobacco to begin rolling a cigarette. He didn’t offer the detectives one.
A painting of some old mine workings hung on the fireplace wall. The moody image dominating the room.
Will Tregellis’s eyes had also been drawn to it. ‘Where is it?’ he asked. ‘The mine, I mean.’
Lawrence cleared his throat and tapped the newly made cigarette before holding a match to the end of it. ‘Out Lands End way.’
‘Looks like the cliffs around Borlase,’ Will said.
Lawrence drew deeply on the cigarette and screwed up his eyes against the smoke. ‘Why exactly are you here?’ he asked.
Sam smiled. ‘Just routine,’ he said. ‘We need to check a few more things with you.’
Lawrence tapped non-existent ash into a brightly decorated pottery dish by his side.
‘You knew Paul Bentine,’ Sam said, watching the colour drain from Kemp’s face. 'Why didn't you tell us you recognised him down on that beach?'
'Because I didn't,' Lawrence scowled, looking from one detective to the other. 'For heaven's sake, we were all in shock. We'd just found a body. I didn't climb down to examine the corpse.'
‘But you did know Paul Bentine?’ Will cut in.
‘A long time ago,’ Lawrence said quietly.
‘Where were you on Friday evening, Mr Kemp?’ Sam asked.
Lawrence pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Let me see,’ he said, ‘Friday? Yes, I was here in St Ives.’ He looked at each detective in turn. ‘You can ask anyone at my exhibition.’ He paused to draw on the battered cigarette, feeling pleased at the glance that passed between the detectives. ‘There were plenty of witnesses,’ he said.
Sam looked up sharply. ‘Why do you feel you need witnesses?’
Lawrence’s temper flared. ‘Look, what’s this all about?’
‘Paul Bentine, Mr Kemp,’ Sam said. ‘It’s about Paul Bentine. We’re trying to find out who killed him. How did you know him?’
Lawrence stubbed out the useless cigarette with force and glared at Sam. ‘It’s no secret. You can look up your records…or whatever it is you do to keep a check on us.’
He watched Sam and Will exchange glances. ‘I’ve been to prison.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t know?’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘It’s all going to come out again. Isn’t it?’
‘What is?’ asked Sam.
‘My prison record. It’s all going to be dragged up again.’
Sam frowned. ‘Not necessarily, but you might as well tell us…as you said, we can check. It would just be so much better if it came from you.’
Lawrence Kemp’s voice was flat, his eyes haunted. ‘I killed three people,’ he said.
Loveday spotted Sam Kitto as soon as she walked into the editorial floor next morning. He was in Merrick’s office, together with another detective she recognised from the cliff top that day. All three looked up when she appeared, and Merrick beckoned her in. She shot a questioning glance to her PA, Keri. But Keri shrugged and shook her head.
‘I don’t know any more than you,’ she said in a voice hardly above a whisper. ‘They’ve been in there for about 20 minutes.’
Loveday’s legs suddenly felt weak. Something was definitely wrong. Were they going to tell her Lawrence was dead? She began to shake.
‘We won’t keep you long, Miss Ross,’ Sam said, as she entered the room. He hoped his reassuring smile was convincing, but his brown eyes were serious. He indicated a seat.
‘I’m fine standing,’ Loveday said. ‘Is somebody going to tell me what this all about?’
‘I’ll give you folks some privacy,’ Merrick said, getting up and starting for the door.
‘No! Please don’t go, Merrick.’ She flashed a defiant look to Sam. ‘I would like Mr Tremayne to stay.’
Sam nodded, and Merrick put a hand on Loveday’s shoulder as he went back to his desk.
‘Where were you on Friday evening?’ Sam asked.
Loveday’s eyes widened. ‘The night Paul Bentine died? Do I need an alibi now?’
The other detective she’d seen on the cliff top on Saturday, cut in sharply. ‘Can you just answer the question, please.’
Loveday ignored him and addressed her answers to Sam. ‘I was in St Ives…at an art exhibition.’ She looked from one to the other and realised they were waiting for her to elaborate on that.
‘It was Lawrence’s exhibition…Look, you’ve got me worried now. Is Lawrence all right? He hasn’t been hurt or anything? Her eyes were searching Sam’s face. ‘Just tell me!’
‘Mr Kemp is fine,’ Sam said. ‘He’s with us at the moment.’
Loveday stared. ‘With you…you mean at the police station?’ She dropped into a chair. ‘Whatever for?’ She felt more confused than ever now.
‘Can you give us a list of everyone who was present at this exhibition?’ This from the detective Sam introduced as Detective Sergeant Tregellis.
‘Well of course I can’t,’ Loveday snapped. ‘I was only a guest myself. You’ll have to ask Mr Kemp. He’s the only one I really knew.’
‘You can vouch for him being there all evening then?’ DS Tregellis asked.
Then she knew. She could feel her anger rising. ‘It’s not my whereabouts you are checking up on. It’s Lawrence’s!’
‘Just tell us, Loveday,’ Sam sighed, not managing to keep the irritation from his voice, ‘Was he with you all evening?’
‘Never left my side.’ Loveday said, meeting his eyes. She hoped he wasn’t able to see just how shaken she was. Lawrence couldn’t be mixed up in something like this. Could he? Out of the corner of her eye she could see Keri and Mylor Ennis, who designed the graphics for the magazine, casting furtive glances towards the glass partition that separated Merrick’s office from the rest of the editorial. They were making a show of getting on with their work, but they were understandably curious.
Keri’s brows were knitted. She could tell from Loveday’s body language that whatever was going on in Merrick’s office, her boss was not enjoying it.
‘Did he pick you up from home?’ Sam continued.
Loveday shook her head. ‘I drove myself.’
‘What time did you arrive?’ It was DS Tregellis.
‘I don’t know exactly, probably about seven.’
‘And was Mr Kemp there when you arrived?’ he pressed.
‘It was his exhibition. Where else would he be?’ she snapped.
Sam moved towards the door and made an attempt at a smile. ‘Thank you,’ he said, nodding to Loveday. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’ But at the door he turned back. ‘Just one more thing. What was Lawrence Kemp wearing?’
‘Wearing?’ Loveday frowned, trying to remember. ‘A dark blue suede jacket, white t-shirt…and jeans, I think.’
Why were they asking that? The look that passed between the detectives sent splinters of ice through Loveday’s veins. Lawrence had been different that night. She knew he’d had something on his mind…but not this…not murder!
The inspector’s voice brought her back into the room. ‘Thanks again for your help,’ he was saying, adding
after a pause, ‘We didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that we need to ask these questions…even if only to rule people out of our investigations.’
Loveday forced a smile. ‘I know.’
‘Well, if you do think of anything, this is my mobile number.’ He thrust a business card into her hand, and she nodded, tucking the card into her pocket.
Loveday suddenly remembered Flossie. ‘Who’s looking after Lawrence’s dog?’ she asked.
Sam looked up. ‘She’s quite safe with a neighbour. Nothing to worry about there.’
Loveday pursed her lips as the detectives left the room and saw they had stopped to talk to Merrick in the main office. Their serious faces did nothing to reassure her. Lawrence was in trouble – and there was nothing she could do about it.
Merrick was smiling reassuringly when he strode back into the office and Loveday said, ‘You know Lawrence, don’t you, Merrick? He wouldn’t be involved in anything like this?’
‘I doubt it very much,’ he said, putting a fatherly arm around her shoulder and guiding her out of his office ‘Why don’t you and Keri take an early lunch?’
Loveday pursed her lips. ‘You’re spoiling me,’ she said.
‘What else are bosses for?’ he grinned.
Keri needed no persuading to join her. ‘Danish pastries all round?’ she suggested.
Loveday laughed. ‘Why not?’
Although it was early, the city’s lunchtime buzz was already beginning to stir. A couple of dark-suited businessmen had emerged from one of the smart offices on the other side of Lemon Street and were making their way towards the Lemon Quay piazza. Loveday and Keri were heading for the museum where the recently opened coffee shop served one of the best cappuccinos in the city.
‘Grab a table and I’ll get the drinks.’ Keri said, nodding to the coveted corner table that was usually occupied by tourists, with their accompanying litter of bags and cameras. Loveday wasn’t sure she enjoyed being mothered by Keri, but she felt too drained to complain. She sat down, wondering why the rich smell of the coffee was so comforting. Keri returned with two large cups of frothy cappuccino, generously sprinkled with chocolate, and two cream-filled pastries on a tray. Loveday remembered she hadn’t bothered with breakfast that morning, and now, despite herself, she was hungry.
Keri saw her eying the pastries. ‘I know she grinned impishly. They’re a car crash, but I couldn’t resist them. Anyway,’ she added, giving Loveday another of her motherly appraisals, ‘You look as though you need a sugar fix.’
Loveday shook her head, but she was laughing.
‘That’s better,’ Keri said, putting the tray on the table and sliding into the chair opposite. ‘Now give. What did the police want?’
Loveday recounted her interview with Sam Kitto and his sidekick as Keri listened with growing shock. Her partner, Ben, was an artist and she had met Lawrence Kemp at various exhibitions and art functions. Ben had often described his work as amazing. He was certainly much respected in the St Ives artists’ community.
‘The thing is,’ Loveday said. ‘I was trying to contact him last night.’ She sat back with a sigh. ‘Now I know why he didn’t get back to me. He was here in Truro all the time – at the police station. He’s probably still there because I tried to ring him while you were at the counter and his phone is still switched off.’
‘Why are they questioning him?’ Keri wiped sticky crumbs from her mouth.
‘That’s what I don’t know.’ Loveday said. ‘But I’m going to find out.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that.’ Keri put down her pastry with a scolding look that made Loveday smile.
‘I know what you’re like, Loveday Ross,’ she said, finger wagging. ‘You’re going to sniff around in places where you’re not wanted. It’s that journalist thing coming out again. Isn’t it?’
Loveday sighed. ‘I have to find out what’s going on…for Lawrence’s sake.’
‘And what if Lawrence doesn’t want you to find out? Maybe this is something private that he doesn’t want anybody to know about it. You could stir up a hornet’s nest here.’
Loveday dabbed her mouth with the paper serviette that Keri had brought and left the best part of her pastry on her plate. ‘I don’t think Lawrence would thank me if I did nothing to help him.’
Keri gave her a long look. ‘I thought it was strictly platonic between you two?’
‘It is…. believe me. But that doesn’t stop me caring about him. I can’t turn my back on him, Keri.’
Laura Bennington was the museum’s curator, and older than Loveday, but they had become friends since their first meeting almost a year ago when the magazine covered a special geology exhibition. She was now approaching their table looking flustered. Strands of her long ash-coloured hair had escaped from her normally immaculate French pleat and her expression was worried.
‘I hoped you two would be in this morning,’ she said, lowering her voice and glancing round the room to ensure they could not be overheard, before pulling up a chair and sitting down.
Loveday reached out to touch her friend’s wrist. ‘Whatever’s wrong, Laura?’
‘We’ve been vandalised,’ she whispered, leaning closer to speak confidentially. ‘One of our paintings have been spray painted…It’s awful. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Have you reported it to the police?’ Loveday asked.
But Laura hesitated before shaking her head. ‘I don’t know what to do. That’s why I’m so glad to see you two. If I get the police involved and this is made public…well,’ She spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘We have some important exhibitions coming. If the organisers think we can’t handle security they might change their minds and cancel.’
Her eyes were wide as she looked across at Loveday. ‘There’s more,’ she said, and bit her lip before going on. ‘It’s Lawrence’s painting that’s been damaged!’
Loveday stared at her and then leapt to her feet, her pulse racing. ‘Can we see it?’
‘Of course. Follow me,’ Laura said, hurrying ahead through the maze of ground floor exhibits to the stairs that led to the upper galleries and the art exhibitions.
The local artists’ section had been cordoned off with a thick red rope and a sign had been put up that read ‘Gallery Temporarily Closed.’ Laura unclipped the rope and stood aside to let Loveday and Keri pass. The paintings were displayed on sturdy green partitions, high enough to give the impression that they were fixed walls. They stopped before two paintings that Loveday knew from previous visits were studies of some of the old mine workings around the Borlase Cliffs area. Lawrence’s brooding style was usually instantly recognisable – but not on one of them, not any more. The picture had been almost totally obliterated by angry splashes of red paint. She turned to look around her. None of the other pictures had been touched. The vandal seemed to have targeted just Lawrence’s work. Loveday shook her head and gave an involuntary shudder. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. It just felt so violent. Who could hate Lawrence enough to violate his work?
She understood Laura’s instinct to protect the gallery’s image, but this was a police matter. Anyone capable of such wanton vandalism might could be capable of …well, anything!
‘Call the police Laura. You must call them now!’ she said.
Cassie was at her kitchen window and gave Loveday a wave as she pulled up by the side of the cottage later that evening. She got out of her car and walked across to the house. The kitchen door opened before she could knock ‘Come in,’ Cassie said. ‘I’m organised for once and Adam is putting the monsters to bed.’
Adam Trevillick was the town’s GP, and Loveday pictured him now, in one of the multi-coloured waistcoats he always wore, sitting on Sophie’s bed reading her and her little brother, Leo, their ritual bedtime story.
Cassie looked at her friend with an expression of concern and drew her into the kitchen. ‘I’ve a bottle of wine in the fridge just waiting to be poured. You sit there,’ she
ordered, pushing Loveday down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table, ‘…and tell auntie all.’
As they sipped their cold wine, Loveday recounted the day’s events and watched Cassie’s eyebrow arch higher with each revelation.
‘I know Lawrence can’t be mixed up in all this, but the police still haven’t let him go. I keep thinking of that painting on the Blue Lady and wondering if there’s a connection.’ She met Cassie’s eyes and said solemnly, ‘If you know anything, Cassie, you must tell me.’
But Cassie shrugged. ‘I don’t know any more than you, but I’m going to see Magdalene tomorrow. Maybe she’ll know more.’
‘Can I come with you?’
Cassie put down her glass and studied her friend. ‘What are you up to?’
Back in her cottage Loveday peeled off her jacket and stepped out of her shoes. She had no idea how meeting Magdalene might help Lawrence, but at least she’d be doing something.
She hadn’t heard the car arrive so the knock on her front door took her by surprise. Only strangers came to the front. She opened the door and found a smiling Abbie, bottle of wine in her hand, and the more reticent figure of Kit behind her.
‘Just a thank you,’ Abbie said, proffering the bottle.
Loveday raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘For pointing us in the right direction…all those sightseeing ideas,’ she went on breathlessly, ‘We would never have found all those wonderful places if we had stuck to the tourist trail everybody else follows.’
She forced a smile, standing aside to let them come in. So much for her quiet evening in.
Kit’s eyes lit up when she walked into the cosy room ‘This is lovely. You’re so lucky having a place like this. Our apartment is dingy by comparison.’
Loveday thought she noticed Abbie flick her companion an irritated look, then decided she might have imagined it. ‘I was lucky to find this place,’ she murmured.
Kit sank into the armchair, but Abbie remained standing.