A surprise is waiting for me when I return to the Rock for my 4 p.m. briefing with Gannick and Eddie. Madron has come over from St Mary’s. He looks out of place in the neglected room, assessing the dust on every surface with a look of disgust. Eddie gives me an apologetic shrug. I know he’ll have tried hard to keep him away, but our boss believes I need close supervision. Gannick is too busy staring at her tablet to notice the tense atmosphere.
‘I want every protocol followed,’ the DCI says. ‘Let’s start with a progress report from each of you, please.’
Madron believes in hierarchies, so he turns to Gannick first, due to her seniority. He gives a deferential smile, but the forensics chief hates social niceties.
‘I haven’t made much headway,’ she announces. ‘I spent hours trying to extract DNA from the items found at the scene.’
I lean forward to have my say. ‘I’ve spoken to my uncle about the items. He says the murder weapon is a copper nail, referred to as a clout, normally used in shipyards to rivet heavy pieces of timber. The cloth and rusted metal could be the remains of a tool bag he lost over twenty years ago. I’ve spoken to him, and it’s obvious he’s not involved.’
The DCI holds up his hand like he’s stopping traffic. ‘Both items at the murder site came from Ray Kitto’s yard?’
‘It seems likely, sir. He also mentioned a young Polish man called Jakob Bazyli who worked for him twenty-seven years ago. Bazyli left suddenly, so we need to track him down. Apparently he left a note at the boatyard, but the killer could have done that.’
‘Why didn’t you bring Ray in for questioning?’
‘If my uncle killed one of his workers, why would he tell me the young man’s name, and would he leave his own possessions at the scene?’
Madron’s pale grey stare lingers on my face. ‘We’ll talk about this after the meeting.’
Gannick describes taking soil samples from the spot where the skeleton was found, while irritation churns in my stomach, but I have to accept Madron’s point. I was wrong to break protocol when interviewing a relative. My attention only returns to the meeting when the forensics chief explains that there may have been fragmentation, if the bones really were decades old. She would only need to find a minute piece for the lab to extract DNA.
‘Thanks for your hard work,’ Madron says.
She gives a quiet laugh. ‘That’s just the start. I’ll have to spend tonight staring into a microscope till I find that bone.’
‘Anything to add, Kitto?’ Madron’s smile vanishes as he studies me again.
‘I’ve been trying to find out who could have removed the bones undetected. Jamie Porthcawl visited the site unauthorised. He entered the tent on Friday evening, even though the area was cordoned off. He claims to have dropped his dad’s compass there, but I’m not convinced. Nathan Kernow was at the site later on, around midnight, before the bones were taken.’
‘What in God’s name was he doing trespassing on a crime scene?’
‘Conducting a pagan burial ritual, complete with candles, wild flowers and a hand-made altar. He would have been a young boy at the time of the murder, but we still need to keep track of him.’
Madron frowns. ‘You think he took the bones?’
‘He may have removed them on a second visit, but I’ll keep an eye on Danny Trenwith too. Him and Maeve have a lot to gain by getting rid of the skeleton. They’re desperate to finish their build. Things seemed tense at home when I spoke to them.’
‘I can see why. We can’t keep them waiting indefinitely.’
‘With respect, sir, this may be a cold case, but it’s still a murder investigation. I want to find Jakob Bazyli, but it could have been someone else in that shallow grave.’
‘Look at the Porthcawl family, will you? The younger lad left quite suddenly, if I recall correctly. His name was Hugh. He settled on the mainland, according to hearsay, but I’ve never seen him come back to visit.’
‘Why didn’t you mention that before, sir? You know we’re looking for a missing person.’
Madron tuts under his breath. ‘The Porthcawls are a respectable family. No missing person was ever reported, and Hugh may simply have established a new life elsewhere. The lad struck me as a high-flyer.’
‘We’ll check his whereabouts, but we can’t prove he left the islands; the shipping office lost most of its records recently, due to a computer virus. I’ll speak to Arthur Penwithick to see if he remembers anything about visitors using his ferry.’
DCI Madron’s expression warms again when he turns to Eddie. I still don’t fully understand why he saves his contempt for me alone, apart from his admission years ago that I bear a physical resemblance to his oldest son. The young man was a thrill-seeker, which led to his death in a motorbike accident, and Madron views me in the same light. No matter how painstaking my approach, he always accuses me of recklessness. I wish we had a better working relationship, but it’s been tense ever since I started working for him four years ago, so it seems unlikely anything will change.
Eddie finishes his report by describing his progress through the island’s census, checking individuals’ names at every property on Bryher. He’s come across no missing persons so far. It still bothers me that Madron knew about a young man leaving the islands without any clear explanation, but at least we’ve got a new lead.
Gannick raises her head again. ‘Whoever wound up in that grave must have been terribly isolated not to be missed.’
I nod in reply. ‘No one’s ever reported a relative or acquaintance disappearing, according to the registrar. I’ll go over to the Town Hall on St Mary’s tomorrow. Sandra Trescothick’s been checking the official records for us, but she’s had no results yet, so I’ll take a look myself.’
‘You all have defined roles in the investigation, so keep going, please. Hard work gets results,’ Madron says. ‘Follow me, Kitto. I want a private word.’
It’s dusk when we leave the pub. My boss leads me towards the beach so we won’t be overheard, marching like a platoon sergeant. A line of sweat has developed on his upper lip when he finally comes to a halt.
‘What in God’s name is wrong with you?’ he snaps. ‘Give your uncle a formal interview, and record every word, or we’ll be accused of whitewashing events. Do you hear me?’
‘Loud and clear, sir.’
‘Why do you never exercise caution? The same goes for the Travis case. You were instrumental in exposing that gang, and the killer’s a sick individual. A graphologist has just analysed the suicide note his daughter left behind. Apparently she was under huge stress when it was written. She may have been forced to write it, then thrown into the river.’
‘Why murder his daughter? I thought they were targeting the police team that put him away?’
‘Maybe the killer thinks she didn’t show her dad enough respect.’
‘I’m still safer here than on the mainland.’
Madron’s grey eyes turn icy, despite the heat. ‘What does Nina have to say?’
‘I shan’t worry her till it’s unavoidable.’
‘She doesn’t know?’
‘I’ll pick the right time to share the news.’
‘Nina’s smart enough to make her own choices. I insist you tell her immediately.’
‘She’ll want to stay here, on the islands.’
‘Listen to me, Kitto. I won’t tolerate another broken rule.’ His frown forms a deep groove between his eyes. ‘Tell her in the next twenty-four hours, or I will.’ He struts away before I can argue.
It’s 7 p.m. when I check my watch, and the clock’s already ticking. I walk closer to the sea, then drop onto a boulder, hoping the peace and quiet will help me decide what to do next. Hangman Island lies directly ahead, the yardarm still visible in the fading light. I loved swimming out there as a boy, then racing my brother to the top of that rocky mound. But the relic looks different now. It’s just a monument to a forgotten war, a place of pointless bloodshed.