The brutal tide, p.21
The Brutal Tide, page 21
‘You’re a lifesaver. How does Danny seem now?’
‘He’d calmed down a bit by the time we got him to bed, but when I came down this morning at seven, he’d scarpered, leaving the front door open. Maggie’s so worried she’s out looking for him.’
‘Go and help her, please, Eddie. I want him back here before he hurts himself.’ I’m increasingly concerned that Danny’s behaviour may be linked to Hayle’s murder.
My deputy hurries away, leaving his meal half eaten. Billy takes a seat opposite, watching me drink my coffee. ‘What happened yesterday, Ben?’
‘I can’t say till we’ve made a formal announcement.’
‘Maggie was shaking like a leaf when she got back.’ He gives me a questioning look. ‘I saw you carrying that body bag. It was Louis Hayle, wasn’t it?’
I give a reluctant nod. It won’t be long before the death is common knowledge. I remember that Billy visited Hayle once a week, to drop off food or play chess, simply because the old man was lonely. The chef’s bluff manner often masks his kindness, but it’s not working today. His eyes are glistening when he speaks again.
‘Louis had a terrible year, losing his wife, then the row about the activities centre. I was concerned about his mental state. Was it suicide?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘He was so depressed, I half expected it.’
‘Did you see anyone go up there yesterday evening, after six?’
Billy shakes his head. ‘I was slaving in here alone. Youngsters these days won’t do an honest day’s work.’
‘Think, Billy, please. Are you sure no one came by?’
‘Just Penny Cadgwith. She takes a daily walk all year round, to help her asthma.’
I’m about to ask another question when Gannick sends me a text. The lab has sent through the results on the shard of bone from Badplace Hill. The DNA profile is a fifty per cent match with Jamie Porthcawl’s, which stops me in my tracks. It proves that the skeleton he uncovered belonged to his brother, even though his parents convinced the whole island Hugh was still alive. If they genuinely believed it, someone worked hard to fake his handwriting on the letters from America Bella said they’d found. It’s still possible that Jamie is the killer. He may have lost his temper with his brother all those years ago, if their relationship was full of conflict, as Penny claimed. I make myself focus.
‘Louis Hayle was murdered,’ I tell Billy. ‘We have to know why. It’s my best chance of catching his killer.’
The chef’s bravado deflates like a pricked balloon, draining his rock-and-roll spirit. The news of his friend’s death has reduced him to an old man, the lines carved into his face suddenly deeper than before.
56
Ruby is reluctant to go ashore when Joe moors on Tresco. They’ve spent an hour anchored in New Grimsby Sound, lying on the deck with the sun beating down. She’s glad of a break from the relentless pressure she’s been under, and it’s easy to ignore her duty while they’re afloat. Setting foot on land will return her to reality.
‘Wait till you see the gardens, Chloe. They’re gorgeous this time of year.’
Joe is holding out his hand to help her disembark. When she hesitates, he grabs her waist and swings her onto the jetty; she feels weightless and carefree for an instant, but the sensation soon passes.
‘You’re built like a ballet dancer,’ he says.
‘I’m stronger than I look.’
‘Race me then, tough girl.’
He sets off down an undulating path that leads through stands of reeds, and dunes covered in marram grass, towards the island’s centre. Ruby’s wound aches when they reach the Abbey Gardens, but at least she won. Joe is bent double, laughing at her with wheezing breaths.
‘I bet you can run your way out of trouble.’
‘Always.’
She barely notices when he takes her hand, distracted by the lush gardens. Huge trees overhang the path, too many varieties to name, the air heady with the vanilla scent of flowers.
‘Let’s go to the Valhalla Museum first. I loved it as a kid.’
When they reach a wooden-framed building Ruby sees dozens of brightly painted figures. A life-sized woman gazes down from the wall, her scarlet lips set in a wooden smile, turquoise eyes staring straight ahead.
‘Where do they come from, Joe?’
‘They’re mastheads from local shipwrecks. Sailors thought they guaranteed good luck on long voyages, but divers had to bring all these to the surface.’
‘They’re beautiful, but creepy too.’ She touches the woman’s painted cheek. It’s cold, despite the day’s heat, and she can’t help shivering. ‘Can we get out of here?’
He stops in front of her, hands settling on her shoulders. ‘The figures won’t hurt you. Something else is wrong, isn’t it?’
‘It’s nothing, Joe.’
‘I’m a good listener, if you want to talk.’
‘Thanks, but I just need some caffeine.’
‘Follow me. The café’s five minutes away.’
He leads her to an enclosed garden full of birdsong. Sparrows descend and peck at crumbs on the table where Ruby sits; even the wildlife is tamer than any she’s seen before. London’s pigeons are wily enough to scatter at the sound of footsteps. She shuts her eyes and blocks out her surroundings. Nothing matters except her dad’s plan: she’ll follow it whatever that takes. The thought is still in her mind when Joe crosses the lawn with two cups of coffee. He’s so good-looking, it requires little effort to keep her smile bright when he sets them on the table.
57
Eddie had no luck finding Danny Trenwith, so I give him the task of phoning the Porthcawls when he returns to our incident room at 11 a.m. I want them here by noon, bringing the letters from America with them. I’ll assess how Jamie reacts to the news that it was Hugh’s bones lying on Badplace Hill. Eddie will do a general call-round afterwards, informing island families of Hayle’s death and the need to stay safe in groups, as well as asking for sightings of Danny. It takes a leap of imagination to imagine a calm man like Jamie hurting anyone, but no one on Bryher seems a likely killer of an eighteen-year-old boy. I know that Travis’s hired man may be close by, but I have to focus on immediate tasks. We’ll hold another public meeting tonight, after the plain-clothes officers arrive, but the news of Hayle’s death is already in the public domain. We’ll need to stem the tide of panic.
Maggie appears with grey curls flying while I’m scribbling a list of things to announce. Words spill from her mouth almost too fast to hear.
‘We couldn’t find Danny anywhere, Ben. Maeve’s still hunting for him, she won’t go home till he’s safe.’
‘Slow down and tell me step by step.’
‘I’ve walked the whole coastline.’ My godmother drags in a breath. ‘I’m so bloody cross with myself.’
‘Why?’
‘I thought he’d calmed down. The poor guy was beside himself last night, though he never said why.’
‘None of this is your fault, Maggie.’
‘What put him in that state?’
‘I don’t know yet. I found him by the cliff edge, then brought him here after he refused to go home.’
‘Maeve says he had a breakdown last year, from overwork. He’s been tense for days. Coming back here unsettles him, apparently.’
‘I need to do a final check on Louis Hayle’s house; I’ll look for Danny on my way.’
‘Want me to come along?’
‘Stay safe here, and call me if he comes back. Keep him indoors, will you? I need to ask some more questions.’
My heart is beating too fast as I walk back up Badplace Hill. A new text arrives from Nina as I set off. She’s arrived at the hospital in Penzance already, yet it fails to set my mind at rest. An odd feeling travels up my spine. It feels like I’m being watched, but when I swing round, the coastal path is empty. I can see Tresco’s sandy beaches across the water, and the off-islands pale in the distance, but I’m out of step with the landscape’s beauty. There’s a mismatch between the vivid wildflowers woven through the dry-stone walls and the darkness of Hayle’s murder. The last few days have felt like a bad dream, with one fatality heralding the next on the mainland. Danny’s misery might be connected to Louis Hayle’s death, but I still can’t imagine why he’d kill his mentor.
I could have overlooked something at Hayle’s property to explain the link. But when I return, all I find is silence. The place feels sterile, with every room tidy, as if the man forecast his own death and left his home in perfect order. I’ll have a long wait while his computer is sent to the mainland so the hard drive can be checked for evidence.
I step out of the back door and study his well-kept garden, where the island’s native agapanthus displays dozens of tall purple blossoms. There’s an outbuilding, but all it contains is a lawnmower and gardening tools. It’s only when I spot the recycling boxes again that I realise something Hayle threw away could provide a clue. I pull on sterile gloves to root through old newspapers, but find nothing incriminating. The next box rattles when I try to open the lid, but it’s sealed by tape. When I finally prise it open, sunlight pours down on a jumble of bones. There’s no denying they’re from Badplace Hill, the fractured skull shattered into pieces I recognise.
My thoughts spin like a gyroscope. I can’t tell whether Louis Hayle removed the skeleton himself, or the killer brought it here as a tribute. All I know for certain is that someone collected Hugh Porthcawl’s remains and placed them inside this box. The boy’s ribs jostle for space beside his broken skull. A wave of nausea hits me, and I have to concentrate hard to hang onto my breakfast. I’ll need Liz Gannick’s help for the second time today. I’m still staring into the box when I call her. The bones are bleached white, like ancient relics.
58
Ruby is impressed when Joe’s boat reaches Pentle Bay on Tresco. The long beach is free of litter, its gentle curve hugging the land, no people in sight. It’s a far cry from the endless queues outside Southend’s cafés and packed amusement arcades when her father treated her to a day out. She loved those adventures, sitting in deckchairs on the beach eating fish and chips with him, but this is another world. The bay is a bare strip of gold, the air tinged with the sour odour of seaweed.
‘It looks so calm,’ she says.
‘You should see it in July. Have you done much travelling?’
‘Not really. How about you?’
‘I did the whole gap-year cliché: Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Bali.’
‘That sounds amazing. Did it take long?’
‘Ten months, working whenever I could.’ Joe lays down a blanket, then unloads their picnic. Next he kicks off his tennis shoes and walks into the sea, wedging a bottle of wine in the sand to cool in the shallows.
‘I see you’re an expert picnicker,’ Ruby says, laughing. ‘I bet you’ve brought every girl in Scilly here.’
He shakes his head. ‘Only Sharon Reid, in Year 9, which was a disaster. She sent a Valentine’s card to another boy. It put me off outdoor meals for a whole year.’
‘What a bitch. Want me to kill her for you?’
‘I’m over it, thanks, but it’s good to know you’re an assassin. I thought you were a poker player, from that game face of yours.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re a closed book, Chloe.’ He leans over to tap her arm. ‘Give me just one fact about yourself. Please.’
‘I was born in Brighton.’
‘Great, I love southern girls. Any brothers or sisters?’
‘That’s my limit. One fact, you said.’
‘How about parents? Are you close to them?’
‘Mum died giving birth to me.’ The truth slips from Ruby’s mouth before she can stop it, another reminder not to let her guard down.
‘That’s awful.’ The sympathy in Joe’s eyes looks a hundred percent genuine. ‘Your dad must have been heartbroken.’
‘He’s the strongest man I know, but I hate thinking about it.’
‘Let me distract you then.’ He pulls her close, his lips warm on hers.
The kiss wipes Ruby’s mind clean. The moment spins out, until Joe pulls her to her feet, dragging her towards the tideline.
‘Come on, lazybones,’ he says. ‘I’ll chuck you in the sea, then we’ll have lunch.’
They fool around in the shallows until their clothes are soaked, with the ocean behind them azure blue. Ruby glimpses how life might have been if she was another man’s daughter, but the image is fleeting, like fragments of sunlight glinting on the water’s surface.
59
Jamie and Bella Porthcawl are waiting when I return to the Rock. It’s lucky they don’t know about the box I’ve left at Louis Hayle’s house. I speak to Eddie outside. My deputy’s jaw drops when I explain about finding the bones abandoned like household rubbish. I’m certain it’s the skeleton from Badplace Hill, but Gannick will have to check the box for fingerprints so we can work out who placed them there. Eddie hurries away to phone her, leaving me to conduct the first part of the interview alone.
The Porthcawls appear to be expecting good news; I’ll have to walk a fine line between speaking to Jamie as a bereaved relative and treating him as a suspect. Bella grips her husband’s hand while he searches my face for clues.
‘That can’t be right,’ Jamie says. ‘I know Hugh’s still alive.’
‘There’s a fifty per cent genetic match between your DNA and the bone sample from Badplace Hill. I’m afraid the skeleton is definitely your brother’s.’
Bella presses her fingers to her lips like she’s suppressing a scream, but Jamie’s speech is a dry whisper.
‘We’ve brought Hugh’s letters with us. He’s in the States, like I said. These were franked in New York.’ He pulls two worn envelopes from his pocket, brandishing them like they’re cast-iron proof.
‘Anyone could have copied his handwriting and posted them from the USA.’
‘It doesn’t make sense.’
‘I need to interview you formally, please, Jamie. Would you mind waiting at home, Bella?’
‘No way, I can’t leave Jamie when he’s had such awful news.’
Bella’s expression sours when I insist she goes. We’ve always been on friendly terms, and I’m still grateful she took care of Nina, but that’s meaningless now. Her gaze cuts through me like cheese wire before she marches away.
Jamie is blank-faced when Eddie joins us for the formal interview. Disbelief resonates in his voice as I record our conversation on the laptop. He repeats his speech about his brother abandoning his past to start a new life, but that story has changed since his bones were found.
‘You and your brother fought sometimes, didn’t you? Was there ever physical violence?’
‘It was just words. You must argue with your brother sometimes?’
‘Not often. How about your father? Did he ever strike either of you?’
He shakes his head. ‘Dad showed his disappointment if we let him down, but he wasn’t the type to hit anyone.’
‘Where do you think Hugh went after their big row?’
‘His closest friend was Danny Trenwith, but he had other mates. Any of them would have welcomed him. Penny’s mum and dad never let him stay over at their place. They didn’t believe in sex before marriage.’
Eddie is taking notes, even though the computer is recording every word, leaving me to ask awkward questions.
‘You’ll have heard the stats about violent crime, Jamie. Ninety per cent of murders happen within families, or the killer is from the victim’s intimate circle. Can you think who might have targeted Hugh?’
‘Not me, if that’s what you’re saying. He was my kid brother; I loved him, even though we were so different, we drove each nuts sometimes.’ Jamie is staring at the surface of the old bar-room table, as if the answer lies among the beer stains. ‘I still miss him, even now.’
‘His death may be connected to Louis Hayle’s.’
‘My brother saw him as a guru. Do you remember Hayle saying that all we needed was self-belief, a brilliant idea and a strong work ethic? Hugh took that to heart; he recited those words like a mantra.’
‘Do you think Hayle influenced any other kids that deeply?’
‘Bella respected him a lot. He was the reason she started her greeting card business, and she stayed loyal to the old boy. She took him a cake just last week to cheer him up.’
Jamie provides little fresh information. The only clear link between the dead boy and Hayle is that the older man mentored him, just like numerous other children. His main message was simple enough for any teenager to memorise: hard work, a unique business idea and confidence lead to success.
I turn possibilities over in my mind as Jamie speaks. He could have fallen out with his brother badly enough to go on the attack, then discard his body, or his father may have killed the prodigal son for rejecting his lifestyle. Jamie’s smart enough to realise that our only hard proof is the bone fragment from the scene, the copper nail that ended Hugh’s life and my uncle’s tool bag in his hand. I may have to accept that two different islanders are guilty of murder. I can’t prove who killed Hugh Porthcawl, because the crime turned cold twenty years ago, but Louis Hayle was murdered yesterday, and even Ray is implicated.
The cause of the teenager’s death almost three decades ago could be right under my nose, and I won’t let his brother out of my sight until he can prove his innocence. My only option is to arrest him for Hugh’s murder, based on his return visit to the crime scene and his denial that their relationship was antagonistic. There’s a slow fire burning in Jamie’s eyes when I read him his rights, but I’ve got no other choice.
