Justyn interrupted his reverie. ‘One other thing. Who were the Spooks of Zennor you kept going on about?’
‘Friends of Trevor Mullings,’ Grant replied. ‘He didn’t want anyone reinvestigating Hector’s drowning and, according to Ivan Youlen, was tipped off that I was in Cornwall and on the case. He was very concerned that advances in DNA might implicate him in Hector’s death, so he hired a couple of old biddies he knew to put the frighteners on me. They did a pretty good job, too, I have to admit. Fusing the lights in the pub and stroking my face in the dark really gave me the creeps. They were also the DJs from hell on the jukebox. Can you imagine Arthur Brown at full throttle when you’ve just gone to sleep? “I am the God of Hellfire and I bring you …”’
‘Great. I would have got off on that,’ Justyn teased.
‘Furthermore, I know now that they – the Spooks – put off a dinner arrangement I had with a former colleague from my firm, Ian Fothergill, who was about to leave his home in Truro. When he phoned the pub to ask directions he was told dinner with me had been cancelled, while I was told that he had phoned to cancel our meeting. I think they earned whatever Trevor paid them.’
‘Another thing, why didn’t Suzie just shoot the old bird?’
‘I’m sure she was tempted, and for a few moments we all thought she had, but Estelle’s threats were now out there for others to exploit, and I guess Suzie knew that, which was why she tested Estelle’s intentions by asking her to repeat to all of us what she had whispered in her ear. She knew the retired doctor in St Mawes was a very unwelcome contact for those seeking to denigrate her precious father. Besides, no doubt Caroline’s outburst destabilized Suzie further.’
‘One last thing,’ continued Justyn. ‘When you last went to Cornwall, who tipped off Trevor Mullings? You only got to Ivan Youlen after seeing Trevor at Porthcurno and being told that Ivan was in the St Austell area.’
Grant stared ahead and after a gaping silence of some twenty-odd seconds, tried to speak, but no words flowed.
Justyn repeated the query.
‘I have no idea,’ Grant finally admitted.
‘I suppose, then, it must have been me.’
The atmosphere between them changed in an instant, as Grant felt a ‘someone’s walking over my grave’ sensation wash over him. ‘Why?’ he inquired in a low, shell-shocked voice after a pause that seemed to last an eternity.
‘Because’, started Justyn, after further deliberation, ‘I knew the weasel Mullings knew rather more about poor old Hector’s drowning than he made out. I wanted to get him rumbled before you got to him, so that he would incriminate himself. I guess I was trying to flush him out. I suspected from what you told me that you thought Hector’s death was self-inflicted, that it and he were both irrelevant, and I needed you to take it seriously.’
‘Oh, cheers,’ interrupted Grant, ‘so you had me half frightened out of my wits. And how did you track him down?’
Justyn saw the look of betrayal on the other’s face. ‘Sorry, mate, I didn’t intend to scare you, but I figured you might get further if Trevor knew you were on the case. I was only looking to warm things up for your investigations. I suspected his involvement all along when his name and address came up in the report Dad and Clive received from their private detective. I also recall Henry telling Mark Vernon about the last part of his film, where he captured Mullings and Hector waddling off to the beach.’
‘So did Mark give the police that information when he reported what you and Robert had said?’
‘I have no idea, but the lack of justice for Hector, for a dear friend, has been on my conscience since he died.’
‘Well, you could have told me you alerted Mullings.’ Grant was still angry. ‘He might have fled the county.’
‘Yeah, maybe I should have done, but I never thought Mullings would quit Cornwall after all these years. I mean, where would he go? I doubt he’s ever been out of the county.’ Justyn got up to pour them both a coffee, recovering some of his usual jauntiness as he hummed, ‘Death in the sea, death in the sea, somebody please come and help me …’
‘Hang on a moment, did you just say “the weasel Mullings”?’
‘Yeah,’ shouted Justyn from the kitchen. ‘That was the name Hector gave him. Never stood his round, apparently, and when he did he put it on Hector’s tab.’
‘Oh my God!’
‘What now, Grantie?’
‘Oh my God! What a fool I’ve been. Suzie called him the weasel as well. Now I know the meaning of the rhyme!’
‘What rhyme?’
‘Half a pound of tuppenny rice, half a pound of treacle.’ Grant was in full flow.
Justyn returned to the sitting-room with two coffee mugs. He looked at Grant in alarm. They both heard it.
‘That’s the way the money goes …’
Neither Grant nor Justyn were singing. They heard the door to the outside of the flat slam shut. As the door from the corridor into the sitting-room swung half-open, a cold draught swept in.
Their mouths were gaping, both scared to move.
‘Pop goes the weasel.’
Justyn dropped a coffee mug. It smashed on the floor by his feet. Grant sat terrified in his seat.
The figure of a well-built man moved from the shadow of the dark hallway into the room. They instantly recognized the intruder. Standing before them was Danny.
‘Calm down, guys. It’s only me.’
‘Jesus Christ, Danny. You scared the shit out of us!’ exclaimed Justyn.
‘Well, you didn’t answer the bell, and I still had the door keys from when I used to live here. I figured you guys would still be up talking. By the way, the weasel was Mullings.’
It took a while for the other twos’ heartbeats to calm down, but soon the three relaxed. Grant made a conscious decision to feel less resentful of Justyn; he knew all along he had been very fond of Hector, and Grant now understood why Justyn felt the need to draw Trevor Mullings into the inquiries. Grant also knew that Justyn had been his one true ally, and he wasn’t going to fall out with him now. He felt further vindicated about taking his mad few months out of normal life, as he had discovered that both Caroline and Justyn shared his sense of unfinished business to a lesser degree. He had been the driver, obsessive about this ‘cold case’. But even though his two friends were not propelled by the same fear that had tortured him for over forty years, he now recognized that they, like him, had maintained a burning sense of injustice about what happened in 1972. His sorrow and horror at Suzie taking her own life was yet to sink in, and he suspected there would be trauma ahead. However, he now knew she had tried to kill herself twice before, and, even though he wouldn’t allow himself to say ‘third time lucky’, he was aware that she had been damaged for life by her childhood and, in particular, by her father.
As Grant put on his coat to depart, he could see the other two were far from ready for sleep. ‘Don’t get so pissed you start looking for mermaids in the sea!’ Danny let out a schoolboy’s guilty laugh, while Justyn rolled his eyes to the ceiling, struggling to conceal a half-smile.