Dead water, p.27
Dead Water, page 27
Rego didn’t say it, but finding George Mason’s lobster pots only proved that she knew where they were.
“We should check his other lobster pots,” she said, sounding more animated. “He didn’t have time to check them all because…”
“Because what?”
“George was taking Domi to a rendezvous, that’s what he said. They were in a hurry.”
“Did he say where?”
“No.”
Rego repeated the information to Ryder so Border Force could send out a vessel from Falmouth and try to find Domi. He felt certain that this was the mystery yacht that they’d been searching for. The reason they hadn’t found it in any of the coves or harbours was because that had never been the plan. Mason had been taking Domi to a rendezvous point somewhere in the Channel.
“Morwenna bit him,” Tamsyn said. “He had blood on his hands.”
“Who’s Morwenna? Is she a dealer?”
Tamsyn gave a brief smile that soon faded.
“No, she’s my dog. She knew that Domi was hiding on the Mari-morgans and she sniffed him out. I think he kicked her or hurt her because she started barking like mad. Then … then after George … after he … with the gun … she was scared, so she hid. But when Domi slapped me, she jumped on him and bit him in the leg. She was so scared, but she tried to protect me anyway.”
“I’m sorry, but we didn’t find a dog.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“No, I know. When Mo bit Domi, it gave me the chance to get away. So I picked her up and jumped overboard with her. But I lost her in the darkness. I couldn’t find her! I tried and tried! And I kept calling her name, but I couldn’t find her. She saved my life and I let her drown.”
The tears came faster now, and Tamsyn sobbed with a hopeless, empty sound.
Rego tightened his arms around her, his face set in a grim line.
They were nearing the harbour when she spoke again.
“Someone put a brick through my car window,” she said sleepily.
“What?”
“And spray-painted ‘grass’ on the side.”
“When was this?”
“When I got home from work.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said, as her eyes closed. “Nothing matters.”
There was an ambulance waiting at the harbour, and Tamsyn was helped inside.
As the doors closed, she called out to him.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Can you get fingerprints if something has been underwater?”
He took his time replying.
“It’s possible. Sometimes. But in seawater? I don’t know.”
“Will you find out? Because Grandad and I can take you to all of George’s pots – we’ll find the evidence. I know we will.”
The ambulance doors closed, and Rego couldn’t tell her that the chances of any either of those things happening were remote.
He followed behind in one of the patrol cars, working the phone as he drove.
“Vik, sorry, I know it’s late.”
His friend’s voice was rough with sleep.
“Seriously, Rob? It’s three in the morning! This had better be important. My wife will kill me if the sleep deprivation doesn’t get me first.”
“I’ll make it up to you, buddy. Listen, I need a quick lesson in latent fingerprints: can they survive underwater?”
Rego could almost hear the computer that was Vikram’s brain ticking over.
“Yes, we’ve done tests with fingerprints on glass and metal that were submerged. We had some good results with cyanoacrylate, but that was in stagnant water. And as you’re in Cornwall, I’m guessing you’re asking about seawater.”
“Yes, and it’s urgent.”
“You can get lucky, but generally the movement of the water causes attrition which washes off the prints.”
“Bottom line?”
“It depends on how the package has been handled. I can fast track it, but it’ll take at least a day. If you’re lucky.”
Rego swore. “That’s it? There’s nothing else you can do?”
“That’s already a longshot. But if there were multiple layers of plastic wrap, for example, there might be fingerprints inside that could be retrieved. We’ve had some good results from swabbing the grip-seal on Ziploc bags. We’ll check for fibres and DNA, too.”
By the time Rego arrived at the hospital in Truro 35 minutes later, he knew a lot more about the recovery of fingerprints. He’d also started the investigative process on George Mason. He wanted to know whether he or his ex-wife had ever taken out an insurance policy – the one he’d supposedly cashed in to buy his boat; he wanted to speak to the previous owner of the ring-netter and find out whether Mason paid by cash, cheque or bank transfer; and he wanted to check the tall tale of a win on the Football Pools.
The man’s story had changed more than once, and that alone was suspicious.
But a suspicion wasn’t evidence, so in the morning, he’d get a forensic accountant going through Mason’s bank accounts, and comparing his apparent wealth to that earned from fishing.
And, crucially, he needed to get the lifeboat to check the rest of Mason’s lobster pots out in Mount’s Bay, in case any of them contained either drugs or illicit earnings. He also needed Tamsyn to pinpoint, if possible, where Mason had recovered two lobster pots of ‘travelling money’. He hoped for Tamsyn’s sake that they could find them. He hoped they had George’s fingerprints all over them.
And not Tamsyn’s or her grandfather’s.
CHAPTER 32
Tamsyn was taken to A&E where they stripped off her wet clothes, pumped warm fluid directly into her veins via an IV line, and monitored her heart.
Rego was allowed to sit with her when her colour began to return to normal.
A normal colour: that was a loaded phrase. He looked down at his own skin, so dark compared to Tamsyn or his father; so light compared to his mother. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through photos of his two beautiful children, with their caramel skin and dark, dark eyes. He missed them, he missed his wife, he missed being part of a family and wondered again if taking this job had been the right thing to do.
He glanced at Tamsyn and found her watching him tiredly, her eyelids drooping.
He was about to say something when there was a flurry of activity and an older woman came rushing into the cubicle, her white hair a dandelion around her head, her eyes wild.
Rego stood up to introduce himself but she flung herself at Tamsyn, stepping perilously close to the IV line.
“Tammy! Oh, Tammy-tam! What have they done to you, my angel?”
She took Tamsyn’s hand and kissed it over and over again.
“I’m alright, Gran,” Tamsyn mumbled, trying to hug her grandmother with one arm. “How’s Grandad?”
Her grandmother slumped into the chair that Rego had vacated.
“They’ve taken him to the operating theatre. They don’t know…”
Her lips trembled and Tamsyn squeezed her hand.
“When they told me you were here, too, I couldn’t believe it!”
“Grandad saved me,” Tamsyn whispered, the words cracked and hoarse. “When George pulled out a gun, he jumped in front of me.”
“What? I don’t understand. You mean our George? Why did he have a gun?”
“He isn’t our George,” Tamsyn cried. “He never was. He fooled us all. He was a drug dealer. He’s the one who shot Grandad.”
Her grandmother’s mouth dropped open in shock.
“And Mo’s dead, Gran,” Tamsyn said, her voice dropping away. “She drowned and I couldn’t find her, I couldn’t save her.”
The two women clung together and Rego felt he was intruding, but he needed to stay and hear all of this.
“Oh, Tammy!” her grandmother cried. “Oh my darling angel. We’ll light a candle for your grandfather and one for little Mo.”
Then she seemed to see Rego for the first time.
Tamsyn looked in the same direction, as if she’d forgotten he was there.
“Gran, this is Inspector Rego. He’s the one who pulled me out of the sea. He saved my life.”
Rego was taken aback when the woman threw herself at him, hugging him fiercely. She reminded him of his mother, the effusiveness, the physicality, and he gently patted her back.
“Thank you,” she said into his chest. “You promised me you’d save her and you did. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! We’ll never forget this.”
She spoke with the unconscious ‘we’ of a long-married couple. Rego mustered an awkward smile.
“I’ll leave you two alone now. Tamsyn, we’ll talk in the morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Later in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.” Then she called after him. “Rob!”
He turned as she said his name.
“Thank you,” she said. “For everything. Thank you.”
He nodded and walked away.
Tamsyn closed her eyes, her hand still clasped in her grandmother’s. So many images floated through her brain, so many questions, but it was hard to focus.
As if from a great distance, she heard her grandmother praying.
“Wrap thee in cotton,
Bind thee with love,
Protection from pain,
Surrounds like a glove,
Brightest of blessings,
Surround thee this night,
For thou art cared for
Healing thoughts sent in flight.”
When Tamsyn woke hours later, pale grey light was filtering into the ward, and something was beeping.
Her grandmother was asleep in the chair, her neck at an uncomfortable angle and her mouth open.
She looked exhausted, and absent the energy that usually animated her mobile features, she looked older and careworn.
Tamsyn felt guilty for adding to her worries. Would any of this have happened if she hadn’t joined the police? No, because she wouldn’t have known what was going on with Domi and the smuggling operation; she wouldn’t have insisted on going to the harbour last night; and Morwenna … dear little Mo. Another casualty lost to the vastness of the ocean.
A nurse hurried over and switched off the beeping machine.
“Your IV fluids have all gone through now,” she said. “I’ll unhook you in a moment.”
“That would be great because I really need to go to the bathr—”
But the nurse had already hurried away, and Tamsyn was left with an empty IV bag and the cannula still in her arm.
Her grandmother sat up slowly, and Tamsyn could hear her joints creaking and cracking.
“How are you, angel?”
“I’m okay. Tired, but okay. Did you sleep?”
“Yes, I didn’t mean to,” her grandmother said guiltily. “I meant to go and sit with Ozzie.” Her lip trembled. “He’ll think I’ve abandoned him.”
“He’d never think that,” Tamsyn said with certainty. “He knows you love him. A love like yours doesn’t need words.”
Her grandmother shook her head.
“No, Tammy. You always need to say the words – people aren’t mind-readers, and we all have doubts. You got to say the words, too. Remember that.”
“Alright, Gran. Let’s go and see him and you can tell him yourself.” She frowned at the cannula. “I just need to get this thing out first.”
It took longer than either of them wanted, and Tamsyn was desperate to use the toilet by the time a nurse rushed over, took out the cannula and put a small sticking plaster over the wound.
Tamsyn hobbled to the bathroom feeling as if every muscle had been scooped out and replaced with jelly. Once she’d washed her hands and splashed some cold water on her face, she began to feel a little more human, but so tired, so very tired.
Her grandmother was waiting for her impatiently with Tamsyn’s clothes in a plastic carrier bag. But they were still sopping wet and smelled unpleasant.
She had no choice but to wear the cold, wet trainers, but as she pulled them out, the little pebble of Serpentine that she’d kept in her pocket rolled free.
“Look, Gran,” she said quietly, holding it in her palm.
Her grandmother’s tired blue eyes met her own and they shared a look, a moment, a feeling big enough to fill the room.
“Let’s go and see Grandad. We can give him this,” said Tamsyn.
She had to make do with the ungainly hospital robe that was big enough to wrap around her twice, and squelched behind her grandmother as they made their way to the Critical Care Unit on the second floor of the Trelawney wing.
But the door was locked and there was no one around to ask to open it. Despondent, they sat outside for a while until a passing nurse took pity on them.
“Visiting hours are 10am till 8pm,” she said, then glanced at their dishevelled state. “Well, perhaps just a quick peek.”
Ozzie Poldhu lay in a hospital bed with white bandages wound around his head, and his eyes taped shut. His weathered skin seemed paler, and gnarled blue veins stood out on the back of his hands. His chest was bare, and he looked old and vulnerable.
Tears burned behind Tamsyn’s eyes and she had to put a hand over her mouth to stop from calling out.
Her grandmother stood at the side of his bed, staring down at him as she took his hand in hers.
“Ozzie, my love, we’re both here, me and Tammy. We love you and we want you to come back to us.” She looked across at Tamsyn. “Tell him, angel. Tell him we need him to come home. He’ll hear you.”
Tamsyn had her doubts, but if it was what her grandmother needed, then she’d do it.
“I’m here, Grandad, and I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay because of you. Gran’s right – we need you to wake up and come home.” She glanced at her Gran, who nodded at her to continue. “Morwenna, Mo, she … she saved my life, Grandad, but I couldn’t save her. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. We need you, Grandad. Please wake up.”
Tamsyn couldn’t say anymore, her throat had tightened and tears were threatening again.
“You listen to our granddaughter, Ozzie Poldhu,” said her grandmother, taking over smoothly. “We’ve been married 51 years and I can’t do without you now, you stubborn ole bugger.”
Angrily, she wiped the tears from her face and when she looked at her husband, her gaze was fierce.
“You come back to me, Ozzie! You hear me? You come back – it’s not your time.”
Shortly after that, the nurse hustled them away.
“How’s he doing?” Tamsyn’s grandmother asked her. “The truth, please.”
“The doctor will talk to you after she’s done her rounds. You can wait here.”
And the nurse pointed at a row of uncomfortable plastic chairs.
“There’s a vending machine just outside.”
But they didn’t have any money to buy food or drinks. Tamsyn had nothing at all. She kept a digital wallet on her phone and never carried cash. George had thrown her brand new iPhone overboard, and it was currently at the bottom of the sea, a toy for the fish.
Her grandmother had left the house with just her door keys.
So they sat and they waited.
Finally, the doctor arrived in a flurry of blue scrubs and stethoscope, but was swept into the CCU, and they didn’t see her for another 45 minutes.
When she came out, she introduced herself.
“Mrs Poldhu? I’m Dr Michelle Cooke. I’ve just been to see Oswald…”
“We call him Ozzie.”
She gave a kind smile. “Ozzie is doing very well. Has anyone explained to you what’s happened?”
They shook their heads and instinctively held hands. The doctor dragged a chair across the floor and sat beside them.
“Ozzie has a skull fracture caused by a bullet hitting his head with force. I have to say, he is an incredibly lucky man because the bullet didn’t penetrate his skull. But he does have a compound depressed skull fracture which means that some of the broken bones have pressed inwards. That caused pressure on the brain and a small bleed.”
“Like a stroke?” Tamsyn’s grandmother asked, her voice weak and scared.
“It can be a little like that. We had to operate to lift these broken bones off his brain to relieve the pressure. But the surgery went very well and his vital signs are looking very positive.”
“Will he wake up soon?”
“At the moment, Ozzie is in an induced coma. This is the best way to let his brain heal. When we feel he’s strong enough, we’ll gradually reduce the medication until he wakes up.” She smiled sympathetically. “That won’t be today, so I suggest you go home and get some rest. We’ll call you if there are any changes.”
She stood up to leave and Tamsyn’s grandmother gazed up at her wordlessly.
“Thank you, doctor,” said Tamsyn.
The doctor smiled again and walked away.
They sat in silence for several minutes and then Tamsyn’s grandmother shook her head hopelessly.
“I always said that man had a thick skull.” She tried to smile but it wobbled around the edges. Then she looked at Tamsyn. “We need to get you home to rest. A long hot bath, a cup of tea, then bed.”
That sounded wonderful, but … how were they going to get there? They had no phone, no money, and Tamsyn didn’t even have proper clothes to wear.
Footsteps echoed down the long corridor and Tamsyn felt crying all over again when she saw who it was.
PC Jamie Smith was striding towards them, out of uniform, and a huge grin on his face.
“Tam! They told me I’d find you here? How are you? I’m here to take you home. Is this your gran? Hey, Mrs Poldhu! I’m Jamie, but you can call me your white knight, ready to rescue damsels in distress – and to bring them clothes.” He winked at Tamsyn. “Got them out of your locker at the station.”
