It’s 6 p.m. when I get back to the pub. I’m still buzzing with nervous energy from so many revelations, but my trio of security guards look tired. Shadow curls up in the corner to sleep, and Ken Ellis retreats upstairs with a migraine, leaving Tom Kinsella in the corner. There’s something odd about his unblinking stare, making me glad we’re on the same side. My day has been so busy, I’ve almost forgotten the terrible deaths of my old colleagues, but maybe that’s just as well. I can’t afford distractions with so much work to complete.
Eddie is alone in the incident room, after having no luck finding Danny Trenwith. There are several frantic messages from Maeve on my phone, but when I call to ask for information about Danny’s relationship with Hayle, she doesn’t pick up. I’ve got a feeling she’s outside, scouring the island for signs of her husband’s presence. The worst outcome would be a phone call from the coastguard reporting his body washed up on the shore. I can tell my deputy’s nerves are paying the price for our lack of progress, his movements jittery as I update him on Nathan Kernow’s revelation. He looks frustrated when I remind him that Kernow can’t have killed his abuser; his alibi is watertight.
‘Two people were spotted on Badplace Hill yesterday afternoon, boss. Lucy Boston and Penny Cadgwith. They both took walks there alone, between four and six p.m. I’ve got no other sightings.’
‘Thanks for checking, we need to keep a close eye on both women. It’s possible they were abused by Hayle too. What’s Liz doing now?’
‘Dusting surfaces at Hayle’s place.’
‘Alone?’
‘Maggie’s keeping a lookout.’
‘Good. I don’t want anyone left isolated till the killer’s found. Let’s go through the evidence again.’
My deputy collects a mound of paper covered in Post-it notes. He likes to document every detail, while I file a single daily report in the operations tracker, our approaches complementing each other well. Three days have passed since Jamie Porthcawl exposed his brother’s skeleton on Badplace Hill. There’s no categorical proof that Louis Hayle killed the eighteen-year-old. All we know for certain is that someone tried to frame my uncle. Nathan Kernow’s words make me believe that Hayle may have killed Porthcawl to avoid facing justice, if the lad threatened to blow the whistle. A man with an ego that size couldn’t have coped with public hatred and a long jail sentence, after so much adulation.
‘Hayle’s finances are complicated,’ Eddie says.
‘How come?’
‘He didn’t go broke in 2008, like people say. He piled huge sums into a business called New Venture.’ Eddie peers at a computer printout. ‘He shelled out millions, starting twenty years ago. The holdings were on the Isle of Man.’
‘Let me see.’
The figures prove that Hayle slowly emptied his wealth into New Venture, leaving less than fifty thousand in his deposit account. ‘Maybe it was a tax scam.’
‘But where did it go? New Venture was registered with Companies House, but it’s got no media presence at all. That money’s vanished into thin air.’
‘It’s out of character for Hayle to make a professional mistake. He kept tight control of everything he touched. If it was him who attacked Porthcawl, he even buried his body close to home, to keep an eye on it. That explains why he fought so hard to stop the activities centre being built, and why he wanted people to believe the bones were ancient.’
My phone buzzes on the table, the message filling me with relief. ‘Danny Trenwith’s safe. Maeve says he came home exhausted; she’s made him go to bed.’
‘Do you think he killed Hayle, boss?’
‘He could be another victim, but that doesn’t make him a killer. Someone removed those bones from the ground with care. Maybe it was Hayle himself, but why keep them, when he could have chucked them in the sea?’
‘It was a professional job, that’s for sure.’
Eddie is already leafing through documents, but his words have sparked a fresh idea. Only one person on Bryher could have removed the bones with such skill, yet her background is beyond reproach. It may be a wild goose chase, but I have to find out.
‘I’m going to see Penny Cadgwith. Stay here, Eddie. I won’t be long.’
He’s too busy figuring out how Louis Hayle lost his money to look up, but my two remaining guards, canine and human, won’t leave me alone. Shadow noses out of the door once it opens, with Kinsella close behind.
Dusk has fallen already. Tresco’s smooth curves look like a woman dressed in green, lying supine, waiting for nightfall. The water is already shiny with starlight. My gaze scans the beach, but Bryher’s minute scale is deceiving. There are dozens of caves, barns and coves where a killer could hide.