A Cornish Revenge (The Loveday Ross Cornish Mysteries Book 1) (7 page)

They hadn’t officially released the dead man’s identity, but Merrick was his friend and he trusted him. He wasn’t yet sure about Loveday. He lifted his glass and drank down a couple of inches of its contents before wiping his mouth.

‘I might as well put you both out of your misery.’ He frowned at Merrick, but Loveday thought she caught a glimpse of humour in his eye. ‘…Since this is probably why I was invited here in the first place.’

  Merrick put down his glass and wiped a foam moustache before widening his eyes. Loveday looked away to hide her amusement at this contrived innocence.

  Sam ignored the gesture. He knew Merrick moved in all levels of Cornish society, and seemed to know half the county. He had more to gain by tipping them off now than by letting them wait for the press release.

  ‘The victim’s name is Paul Bentine.’ Sam watched their expressions for any sign of recognition. ‘Does the name ring a bell?’

   Loveday shrugged and shook her head, but Merrick frowned. He knew the name...but from where?  Then he snapped his fingers. ‘Got it,’ he said. ‘Paul Bentine. He’s a member of my golf club, or
was
one.’  He shook his head and put his half empty glass back on the table. ‘Good God,’ he said. ‘Paul Bentine. I can picture him now, wheeler-dealer kind of bloke, always ducking and diving. Some kind of legal man, not very popular, though.’ His mouth twitched into a smile, ‘Now his wife…she
was
popular. Bit of all right, as I remember.’

  Loveday frowned at him. She was acutely aware of Sam’s eyes on her.

  ‘I didn’t mean that,’ Merrick said. ‘She really was a pretty woman. What was her name now?’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Magdalene…yes, that was it. Magdalene. I liked her. She seemed to be the one with the money. Runs some kind of design business.’

       An uneasy feeling was beginning to stir in the pit of Loveday’s stomach. She’d heard the name Magdalene already this week. ‘Your talking in the past tense, Merrick,’ she said. ‘Did they give up their membership?’

    ‘I think they were forced to, at least he was. Some kind of scandal. I can’t remember much about it.’

  He looked at Sam. ‘But I can find out if you like.’

  Sam nodded his thanks. He’d been watching Loveday, and glanced away, embarrassed when she caught his stare. He liked the way she’d smiled up at him when he’d brought their drinks.

Would she still be smiling at him, he wondered, when she discovered what he had to do next?

  The Borlase murder had made the first item on Spotlight that night as Loveday sat in front of the television picking at a pizza.

  ‘Police have identified the body found at the foot of cliffs at Borlase in West Cornwall on Sunday as prominent local professional man, Paul Bentine.’

  She sat forward and turned up the volume.
‘Mr Bentine gave up his legal practice in Cambridge two years ago when he and his wife moved to Cornwall. It is understood that Mr Bentine was semi retired.’

  Her mobile rang and Loveday saw Lawrence’s name flash up as she answered the call.

  ‘Loveday?’ His normally placid voice was urgent.

  ‘Are you watching Spotlight?’

  She told him she was.

  ‘I knew him,’ Lawrence blurted out, ‘Bentine…I knew him.’

  Loveday slid her tray onto the coffee table and stood up. ‘What do you mean, knew him, Lawrence? What are you talking about?’

  ‘…Can I come over?’

  She could hear his breathing. It was too fast.

  ‘I need to speak to you.’

   She was worried now. ‘Of course you can. But tell me what’s wrong, Lawrence.’

  ‘When I come over…we’ll talk then.’

  She was still staring at the phone in her hand when there was a knock on the kitchen door.

  ‘Come in Cassie,’ she called. Only her landlady used the back door. Cassie rushed past her, face flushed and animated.  ‘It was him,’ she said. ‘…On the news, it was
him
…Paul Bentine!’

  ‘Calm down Cassie and tell me what you’re talking about.’

But she had a feeling she already knew. Had all her friends known the dead man? The sinking feeling that had started with Lawrence’s call was deepening.

  ‘Paul Bentine,’ Cassie gasped. ‘It was his boat we were on at the weekend.’

  Loveday sank into a chair. ‘
He
was Magdalene’s husband?’

  ‘Magdalene Carruthers. That’s right. She still uses her maiden name professionally. But her husband…’ Cassie continued breathlessly, ‘I recognised his picture on the news just now…it was Paul Bentine.’

  After Cassie left, Loveday watched the hands of the wall clock click round. It was almost eleven and there had been no sign of Lawrence. She’d rung his mobile several times but it was going onto his answer phone. She toyed with the idea of going back next door to ask Cassie what she should do, but it was late and she didn’t want to waken the children. Deciding there was no more she could do that night, Loveday went to bed.

CHAPTER SIX

St Ives had been quiet as Sam and Will drove along the seafront. They’d been lucky getting the body identified so soon, and the material they’d found at Bentine’s house was a major breakthrough in the case.

He'd been aware of Lawrence Kemp talking to Loveday on the cliff top that morning but he hadn't spoken to him, having left his team to interview the witnesses. The artist's name cropping up on Bentine’s blackmail list however was too much of a co-incidence to ignore.

  His place, when they found it, looked like one of the old buildings local fishermen once used as pilchard stores. His accommodation was on the upper floor and reached by a short flight of stone steps. There was no banister and pots of leggy geraniums had been placed on each step. From the landing they could see into a front room. A wood-burning stove stood in front of a bare stone wall. Artists obviously saved their paint for their canvasses, Sam decided.

  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?’