Wednesday 7 May
When I step into the corridor, Ken Ellis is fast asleep in his chair, snoring loudly. Anyone could have snuck past him to pick the lock on my door last night. He only wakes up when I call his name three times: my new protection may have no effect at all, apart from slowing me down.
Liz Gannick is waiting when I go down for breakfast. She looks as sour as the black coffee she’s drinking, her lips pursed into a thin line. The forensics specialist resembles a sulky teenager from a distance, but morning light filtering through the pub’s windows exposes circles under her eyes and the depth of her frown.
‘This case is a nightmare,’ she says in a stage whisper. ‘First the skeleton goes missing, then the bones show up in a recycling bin. Someone’s baiting us, aren’t they?’
‘Or laying the guilt at Hayle’s door. Did you find any prints?’
‘That box was scoured with bleach, inside and out.’
‘And the bones?’
‘Soaked in ammonia too. Your man loves cleaning fluids.’
‘Can you take another look at Louis Hayle’s house? He may have let the killer in, but I want every window checked for forced entry, just in case.’
‘I did a thorough job the first time.’
‘Please, Liz. I’ll buy you dinner at the hotel and a decent bottle of wine.’
Gannick snarls something toxic before clipping away, her crutches battering the wooden floor, but her act doesn’t convince me. I worked out years ago that she only pretends to be angry; she relishes any task that could deliver a positive result.
The reality of my situation dawns when Eddie arrives. He’s followed DCI Madron’s safety advice to the letter, wearing a stab-proof vest, a taser and baton clipped to his belt. Our two new colleagues are dressed the same, making me stand out like a sore thumb in jeans, trainers and a black shirt. I accepted my post on the islands on the proviso that I continue working in plain clothes. It would feel strange to don police uniform after almost twenty years, but I’ll have to wear a stab vest to honour my promise to Nina. Steve Pullen died from a knife wound to the heart, so it can’t be avoided.
My decade of work as an undercover officer taught me how to read body language in order to identify potential threats. I can see that Eddie has formed a bond with Ken Ellis already, the two talkers in the group hunched over the breakfast menu discussing their options. Tom Kinsella remains separate at the end of the table. His face looks battle-worn in the morning light, bumpy with scar tissue. I can’t tell whether his aloofness comes from his army days or is second nature. The man seems like a highly tuned instrument, vibrating to any change in frequency. I watch him reposition himself as the kitchen door swings open, his gaze shifting to the window, scanning the room for entry points.
‘Ready to order, gents?’ Billy looks happy for once in his life.
We all choose a full English, except Kinsella, who requests water, fruit and dry toast. He seems determined to treat his body like a temple, while the rest of us consume maximum fuel. The chef asks how we like our rooms, then announces that the weather forecast predicts a fine day ahead.
‘Why are you so cheery, Billy?’
‘I’ve got a new kitchen hand. Shy little thing, but she’s got skills.’
‘I’ve heard about her. Local, is she?’
‘Joe Trescothick’s girlfriend, Chloe Moore.’ Eddie leans forward to catch my eye. ‘I ran her through the system, boss, and so did Isla. She’s an art student, but she told Billy she might quit her course if things go well here. Her record’s clean as a whistle, apart from a speeding fine.’
‘Chloe’s doing a trial for me today, but she won’t last five minutes if she’s workshy,’ Billy says.
‘I bet she does well,’ Eddie replies. ‘She wants to be with her bloke.’
My deputy’s world view is simpler than mine. A inevitably leads to B in Eddie’s mind, but life has taught me that human psychology is more complex. I’m curious about why a student would abandon her course for a menial kitchen job, but it has no relevance to the case. Trescothick’s girlfriend fades from my mind as I give my new team duties. I must have at least one guard with me to satisfy Madron’s requirements, but at least they can lend a hand. Eddie will stay with Gannick in case the killer returns to Louis Hayle’s house. My most pressing task is to find Danny Trenwith, who’s still missing, and I need to follow Maggie’s advice and speak to Arthur Penwithick again.
I’m putting final arrangements in place with the team when I realise that Shadow is missing. He must have slipped out unnoticed, which fills me with relief after his behaviour last night. I’ve got enough guards without dealing with a paranoid wolfdog. When I rise to my feet, though, he slinks out from under the table. I order him to stay behind as the four of us head for the door, but he’s not playing ball. He gives a bark of protest, then exits the building a few millimetres behind me, determined to live up to his name.