Kate could not believe what she was hearing. ‘Trouble seems to be following him about.’
Luke replied, ‘I know, you couldn’t make it up. I sent him down there for a quiet life.’
They were both curled up on the sofa in their Victoria Park house. A Michael Buble album played soothingly in the background. Luke was telling Kate of the telephone call with Daniel earlier in the day.
Kate tried to rationalise the information. ‘I can understand the dead body, that’s just bad luck, a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s the hostility from the locals that’s worrying in view of your plans for next summer.’
Luke nodded. ‘Exactly, that’s why I have decided not to hang about and take a trip down there on Thursday.’
A thought occurred to Kate. ‘You can’t risk taking the Audi – we don’t want that damaged.’
‘Shit, I didn’t think of that.’
‘We can’t spare another company car.’
Luke thought of his options. ‘I can find a place to stay in Helston. Leave the car there and get a cab into Tregarris. Daniel can drive me back.’
Kate nodded. ‘Sounds like a plan.’
‘I’ve arranged for a TV delivery on Thursday afternoon. Poor sod sounds like he needs some relaxation. So far it’s not gone as well as I’d planned; he wasn’t supposed to get any stress. I hope he is not tempted to start gambling again… or do anything silly.’
Kate looked concerned. ‘Do you think there’s a chance that he would?’
Luke took her hand. ‘Who knows, but I’m not taking any chances. I took a look through his mobile messages. He’s got some problems. I’ll take his phone with me so we can go through some of them.’
‘I haven’t told Lauren anything so far, but I can’t stall her forever.’
Luke leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. ‘I know, hun. Hopefully, by this time next week we’ll have him in a better situation.’
‘Just as a matter of interest, can I ask how much this is going to cost you?’
Luke gave her an earnest expression. ‘Can you really put a price on the people you love?’
Kate cuddled up to him. ‘I had a feeling you’d say something like that. It’s probably why I love you.’
*
It was a quiet Wednesday morning in Helston Police Station. Sergeant Jack Wilkins was making himself busy, sifting through some paperwork. Sandra Kent was sitting opposite, looking at her monitor. The unusually peaceful atmosphere in the station could be explained by the absence of DI Everett, who was out of the office giving evidence on a previous case at the law court in Truro.
Sandra looked across at Jack Wilkins. ‘Is there anything back on the rough sleeper post-mortem, Sarge?’
Wilkins took a big swig of his coffee before answering. ‘Nothing so far – the doc’s report should be coming through anytime.’
‘Did you get the feeling that there was anything suspicious when you saw the body?’
Wilkins thought back to the scene from the previous day. ‘It looked a stonewall case of natural causes when I first arrived at the body site. But then when the information came out about the missing rucksack and banjo, it started to look more sinister. Of course, the doc put the seal on it with his discovery of the burn marks on the neck.’
‘DI Everett will be a happy copper if the PM reveals it’s not natural causes. You know how he appreciates a good mystery.’
‘That he most certainly does. I know he can be a noisy, arrogant bugger, but you have to give him his due, his clear-up stats are very impressive.’
‘I know. I just wish he wouldn’t shout it from the rooftops.’
Wilkins laughed. ‘I can’t disagree with you on that one.’
They both appreciated these moments when they felt free to let off some steam regarding their superior. Though Everett had excellent detecting qualities, there were times when working with him that you had to have the tolerance of a saint. Wilkin’s email pinged. It was from the doc. There was an attachment containing his report.
It took only a few seconds of scrutiny before Wilkins announced, ‘It definitely looks like we have a manslaughter on our hands.’
Sandra immediately rose from her desk and walked over to join him. As she read the report over his shoulder, she could not resist commenting, ‘DI Everett’s going to love this.’
*
Joe Blades was sitting at his desk in his Soho office. In front of him sat Private Investigator Mark Reid. He had instructed his two heavies, Vince and Max, to pay a visit to Daniel’s landlord, in order to intimidate him just enough to get the name of the cousin. Blades decided that Mr Reid did not need to know anything about that.
‘Luke Sadler is the name of the cousin. Hopefully he will be able to lead you to Daniel.’
Mark Reid wrote the name in his notebook. ‘That should be all I need to work with.’
‘Excellent. Let me know if you need anything else.’
Reid could guess that a certain amount of pressure must have been exerted on the landlord to get hold of the name. But he wasn’t there to question beyond his remit of finding the whereabouts of Daniel. There were times when the job was much easier the less you knew. This was obviously one of them. He got up to leave. ‘I will do some digging on this fella and report back.’
Joe Blades sat back in his chair looking satisfied. Mr Reid had asked no further questions and obviously knew the lines not to be crossed. ‘Soon as you can, Mr Reid, soon as you can.’
*
It was mid-morning, and Daniel was lounging on the sofa in the cottage sipping a glass of lemonade. Though far from perfect, he had managed to grab a bit more sleep than the previous evening. Thankfully, there had been no repeat of the bell-ringing in the early hours. He had just returned from the convenience store, after stocking up on some household products and food provision. From what he had overheard in snatched conversations, some of the people in the village were still talking about the Scottish vagrant found dead from the day before. Thinking back to his encounter with the unfortunate Angus Fraser on the path, Daniel muttered to himself, ‘Poor sod.’ Looking at how easily his own desperate situation had rapidly developed, he did wonder what circumstances had triggered the downward spiral for the destitute Scot.
He eventually found his thoughts turning once again to Lauren. He realised now, that with the torment of his gambling urge reducing by the day, his affection for Lauren was coming more to the surface. What a twenty-four carat idiot he had been! Beginning to feel more despondent with every second, he rose from the sofa and went over to the window. Earlier that morning it had looked like rain was likely, but the threatening clouds had since lightened and the weather was dry. He decided to go for a walk.
*
Jack Wilkins and Sandra Kent sat silently as DI Everett scanned the post-mortem report on Duncan Fraser. He had returned from the court case in Truro in a good mood. The crucial evidence he had provided having secured a conviction for a particularly nasty piece of work. He looked up from the screen. ‘According to the doc, a single kick to the chest could have administered the bruising to the upper cavity, vicious enough to rupture his spleen and bring on a cardiac arrest within the hour.’
Wilkins added, ‘Seems like he could have been saved if he had been found earlier.’
Everett answered, ‘Saved from what? Don’t you think that his life was miserable enough? The doc says that he did not have long anyway. The attacker has probably done him a favour.’
‘Maybe so, but we still owe it to him to find his killer.’
Everett banged a hand down on his desk. ‘Of course we do, and we will.’
Sandra Kent picked up the original scene of crime report and handed it to Everett. Again there was a silence while he went over the report once again. After a few minutes he stood up. ‘First we should get the posters out around Tregarris, informing about the rucksack and banjo. Also get it out to the local newspapers about the search for these items.’
Sandra answered, ‘Yes, sir. I’ll get in touch with the Helston Advertiser and the Falmouth Packet.’
‘They will do for a start.’
Jack Wilkins pointed out, ‘The crime scene officers did pick up some cigarette butts nearby; they now take on a new significance with regards to the cigarette burns on the neck.’
Everett nodded his agreement. ‘The doc seemed quite positive that they were recent wounds.’
Sandra sounded outraged. ‘Looks like it wasn’t enough to kick the poor bastard; they thought they would throw in a little bit of torture as well.’
Everett turned on her. ‘Now we don’t know that for certain yet. It never pays to jump to conclusions.’ He looked at Wilkins. ‘Jack, think this guy in the cottage could have a hand in it?’
Wilkins thought back to his conversation with the young man at the Chough cottage. ‘I don’t see him as the attacker. Though I got the distinct impression that something was not quite right.’
Everett was interested. ‘In what way exactly?’
‘I got the impression he was not being totally straight.’
‘You say he was staying in the cottage alone?’
‘He said the cottage had been recently purchased by his cousin.’
Everett looked back at the report. ‘A Luke Sadler. I think we should check him out.’ He posed the obvious question. ‘Why would a young man from London choose to stay in a remote cottage on his own at this time of the year?’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘Go along and interview him once again. Put him under some stronger interrogation, see how he reacts.’ He looked across to Sandra Kent. ‘I think it would be a good idea if you go along with Sergeant Wilkins to add a bit of pressure. See if you can spot any guilty body language.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He looked back at the report. ‘Don’t you think it’s interesting that Miss Thomson had seen his car outside the cottage earlier in the day? Where did he go? What was he doing?’
Wilkins replied, a little flippantly, ‘Dumping the rucksack and banjo, perhaps?’
Everett allowed himself a grin and clapped his hands. ‘You never know. Now let’s get to it.’
*
Sergeant Wilkins rang the cast-iron bell for the second time. He and Sandra Kent were standing outside the Chough cottage. He peered into the front window. The cottage appeared to be empty. He looked across to Daniel’s car parked outside. ‘He surely can’t still be in bed.’
Kent was looking up at the upstairs windows. ‘He’s probably gone out for a walk.’
‘That’s probably the answer.’
Sandra walked over to Daniel’s car. It did not take her long to spot the deeply etched scratch along the side of the bodywork. ‘It looks like some numb-brain has keyed his car.’
Wilkins sounded interested. ‘Is that right?’ He joined her beside the car and studied the damage. There was no doubt about it. In his career he had seen too much wanton vandalism not to recognise it when he saw it. They were still looking at the car when Daniel appeared, walking back from the direction of the coastal path.
*
Daniel was nearing the end of his walk. He had ambled a few miles along the path in the opposite direction from his previous excursion and had found the views equally as captivating. Once again he had felt his spirits rising with every step along the way. There was something about the sound of surf and gull that seemed able to generate a natural high. Turning inland towards the cottage, he was taken a little by surprise when he saw the two uniformed officers standing beside his car.
Sergeant Wilkins greeted him. ‘Morning, Mr Felton. Been for a morning constitutional?’
Daniel answered genially, ‘It definitely blows the cobwebs away.’
Wilkins pointed to the damage on Daniel’s car. ‘When did this happen?’
Daniel hesitated for a split second. In view of his situation, he thought the less attention and fuss he drew from the local police the better. The last thing he needed was the police investigating a petty crime on his behalf. ‘I’m not exactly sure when I first noticed it. It’s one of my cousin’s company cars; it could have happened anywhere.’
‘You don’t think the vehicle could have sustained the damage since you arrived?’
‘I doubt it, everyone seems so friendly here.’
Wilkins flashed Sandra Kent a glance before replying, ‘Believe me, Mr Felton, like any other place, Cornwall has its share of bad apples.’
‘I’m disappointed to hear it.’ Daniel looked at their serious expressions. ‘Is this visit to do with the dead Scotsman?’
Sandra Kent was looking at Daniel’s face keenly as Wilkins answered, ‘Yes, Mr Felton. We have identified him as Duncan Fraser. Unfortunately his death is not as straightforward as at first appeared.’
Daniel thought back to the Scot’s belligerent manner. Somehow he was not surprised. ‘Someone attacked him?’
‘It looks like he took a heavy kick in the chest. That was all it took. He was in such bad physical condition.’
Both officers were studying Daniel’s reaction to this information with keen attention.
‘Poor man.’
Wilkins glanced over at the cottage. ‘Would it be possible for us to take a peek inside the cottage, Mr Felton?’
Daniel was momentarily taken by surprise with this request. It then suddenly occurred to him that he was being seriously considered as a possible suspect. He showed them towards the doorway. ‘Of course, no problem.’
*
Mark Reid took another bite of his panini as he looked at the doorway of Sadler’s estate agents in Hoxton. He was sitting in his car which he had parked a little way along on the opposite side of the road. It had not taken him long to track down Luke Sadler. In fact, it had been ridiculously easy. His high profile on the internet as a very successful estate agent had ensured that. He stared admiringly at Sadler’s black Audi A3 which was parked outside. He phoned in to Joe Blades’ office. ‘Hello, Mr Blades, this is Mark Reid.’
‘Hello, Mr Reid, do you have anything to report?’
‘I am sitting outside Luke Sadler’s estate agent’s office as we speak.’
Blades was intrigued. ‘Go on.’
‘It turns out that Mr Sadler is a bit of a whiz in the property business. In short, I think he is loaded.’
Blades struggled to keep the eagerness out of his voice. ‘You don’t say.’
‘Not only does he own two offices in fashionable Hoxton, but from the looks of his internet profile, he is also building a pretty impressive property portfolio.’
This was music to Joe Blades’ ears. It meant that there was more than a good chance of him getting his money back twofold. Who would have thought it? Daniel Felton had a rich cousin. More significantly, a rich cousin who, it appeared, was eager to help him. ‘What’s your next move?’
‘Simple, I plan to follow him home tonight. His Audi is parked outside the office. It’s a good chance that he will lead me to Daniel at some stage.’
Blades sounded much encouraged. ‘Let me know as soon as you get something.’
‘Will do.’
Blades put the phone down and fiddled distractedly with his wrist bracelet. This was looking more promising than even he had first supposed.
*
‘Where did you go on the Tuesday morning?’ Jack Wilkins and Sandra Kent were sitting on the sofa in the Chough cottage drinking a cup of tea. Daniel stood in front of them feeling a little unsettled. Both officers had just returned to the lounge after completing a thorough search of the cottage.
‘I spent the morning in Helston.’
‘Can anyone vouch for you?’
Daniel thought for a second. ‘Not really, though I did buy a couple of shirts in Coggleshall Street. They might remember me.’ Kent wrote this down on her notepad.
Wilkins went on. ‘You said you had an altercation with Duncan Fraser the day before?’
‘Hardly an altercation – basically he just shouted abuse at me as we passed.’
‘You didn’t abuse him back?’
‘No. It was obvious he was mentally unstable. I never took it personally. I won’t deny that I did feel a bit intimidated… being alone with him on the path.’
‘Which brings us to why you are down here from London, alone in Tregarris and out of the holiday season?’
Daniel realised that it probably did look a little odd and, in the present circumstances, maybe a touch suspicious.
‘I have been going through a bit of a tough time recently… personal stuff.’ Wilkins encouraged him to expand. ‘I recently split with my girlfriend and quit my job. I was down in the dumps so my cousin thought it would be a good idea for me to get away for a bit. He had recently bought this cottage, so it seemed convenient.’
‘Can you give me your cousin’s telephone number?’
‘Sure.’
Sandra Kent wrote the number as he read it from his phone.
Wilkins cut to the chase. ‘Were you in the cottage on Monday evening?’
‘No, I spent the evening in the pub, the Jolly Pirate on the high street.’
‘About what time did you leave the pub?’
‘It must have been sometime after eleven o’clock.’
Wilkins seized on a casual line of enquiry. ‘Sounds like you had a good session, Mr Felton.’
Daniel felt himself answer maybe a bit too defensively. ‘It was only about four pints.’
Both Wilkins and Kent picked up on his momentary anxiety. ‘After leaving the pub, you didn’t see anything or hear noises coming from the coastal path?’
Daniel thought back to the voice in the bush. Should he mention it? Was it relevant? He was suddenly feeling distinctly uncomfortable under the sergeant’s intense gaze. It was a few seconds before he finally answered, ‘No, apart from the sound of the surf it was very quiet.’
‘You are quite sure, sir?’
‘Definitely.’
The two officers rose from the sofa. Jack Wilkins spoke as he went to the door. ‘That’s all for now, Mr Felton, we will be in touch. Be sure to let us know if you see or think of anything that may throw some light on it.’
‘I will, Officer.’ Daniel closed the door and breathed deeply. He had found the police visit more than a little stressful.
*
Mark Reid kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The black Audi A3 was cruising three cars ahead of him. He had watched as Luke Sadler left his Hoxton Square office, accompanied by what appeared to be his girlfriend. The winter nightfall and early evening traffic was giving him good cover as he tracked Sadler’s rear lights across East London. They had now turned off the Cambridge Heath Road into Victoria Park Road. He had the feeling that they were getting closer to their final destination. Sure enough, Sadler slowed down and turned into the residential area of Gore Street. Reid pulled over and parked the car. He watched the Audi travel a further hundred yards and stop in front of a row of fine-looking Victorian houses. Sadler and the girl got out of the car and mounted a short flight of steps before entering the house. After a couple of minutes, Reid left his car and strolled casually up to the house. Making a mental note of its location, he noticed that it directly overlooked the park on the opposite side of the street. Looking back towards the house, he wondered if Daniel Felton was also inside. He knew that only a combination of patient surveillance and stealthy tracking would give him the answer. He walked swiftly back to his car to give Mr Blades an update.
*
‘So, what did you make of our solitary young man in the cottage?’ DI Everett was addressing the question to Sandra Kent. It was early evening in Helston HQ and they were discussing the suspected manslaughter case of Duncan Fraser.
Kent answered thoughtfully, ‘Well, his explanation for why he is staying in the cottage seems plausible enough.’
Jack Wilkins agreed. ‘I suppose it makes sense. If you believe everything he said to be true, then it looks like he is in the middle of some sort of personal crisis. He’s given me his cousin’s phone number, so I can check out his story.’
Everett was scanning Sandra’s written report of their visit to the cottage. ‘Did the clothes shop in Coggleshall Street confirm he was in Helston on the morning the body was found?’
Sandra replied, ‘Yes, the girl in the shop remembered him in particular because of his good looks.’
Everett was unimpressed. ‘There are any number of places he could have dumped the rucksack and banjo on his way into Helston. You found nothing suspicious or incriminating in the cottage?’
Wilkins answered, ‘Nothing to put him in the frame. In fact, the place was all a bit on the sparse side. Looks like it still needs a bit of work doing.’
Everett was reading over the report once more. ‘So on the Monday evening he came back to the cottage after the pub closed… probably drowning his sorrows. Still, begs the question. He had already had an altercation with Fraser earlier in the day. Who’s not to say that with a few beers inside him, he bumped into Fraser on the way back to the cottage and got provoked into chasing him onto the path and giving him a kick?’
Kent recalled the damage to Daniel’s car. She looked across to Jack Wilkins. ‘Is it possible he might have caught Fraser vandalising his car and lost his temper?’
Wilkins thought back to the mild-mannered Londoner and his rather vague answers regarding the car damage. He found it hard to imagine, but four pints of beer can change some people, especially someone who is going through a bad time personally.
Everett was warming to the theory. ‘Finding your car being keyed by the same man who had already abused you earlier in the day is pretty provocative, especially after sinking a few pints. Don’t you think?’
Sandra Kent remarked, ‘He was definitely a bit twitchy under questioning.’
Wilkins agreed, ‘He gave the impression that he was holding something back.’
Everett thought of the cigarette burns on Fraser’s neck. ‘Any sign that he is a smoker?’
Sandra thought back to Daniel’s clean-cut looks and white teeth. ‘I doubt it, certainly not from what we could see in the cottage.’
Wilkins nodded. ‘Of course, he could be a social puffer, someone who likes an occasional fag with a beer.’
Kent thought that suspecting Daniel as a sadist was a step too far. ‘I just don’t see Mr Felton as a torturer.’
Everett was quick to advise her. ‘Believe me, Sandra, in my time I have seen some of the most evil deeds perpetrated by what appeared to be the most angelic of people.’ He turned to Jack Wilkins. ‘Well, first thing to do is check out his story with the cousin.’
Wilkins went over to his desk. ‘I’ll get on to it right away.’
*
Luke Sadler was lying stretched out on his sofa in front of the television. He was watching a documentary about luxury hotels around the world, but he was finding it hard to concentrate. His plan was to drive straight on to Cornwall in the morning, after first dropping off Kate at the office in Hoxton. He had booked a room for the night in the Strathallan Guest House in Helston. He did not think he would need the bed, but the important thing was that it provided safe parking. In view of what Daniel had told him about the company Fiat, he did not want to take any chances with the Audi. Upstairs, he could faintly hear Kate singing along to Taylor Swift in the bath. He did not like leaving her alone in the week, even for one night, but he felt the situation with Daniel and the cottage had left him no choice. Besides which, he was going with Kate’s full backing. It was in both their interests – plus Lauren’s – to get Daniel sorted. Also, purely from a self-interested point of view, he needed to quickly sort out the local hostility issue. He tried to get his attention back on the TV but then his mobile rang. He did not recognise the number.
‘Hello.’
‘Good evening. This is Sergeant Wilkins from the Devon and Cornwall County Police.’
Luke had suspected that he might get a call from the police after his last conversation with Daniel.
The sergeant went on. ‘Am I talking to Mr Luke Sadler?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sorry for interrupting your evening, Mr Sadler, but I would appreciate if you could confirm a few details relating to your cousin Daniel Felton.’
‘Sure, no problem.’
‘It’s just routine enquiries, you understand. He says he is staying in your cottage in Tregarris. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, that is certainly correct, Officer.’
‘From what he has told us, it seems that on a personal level he has been going through a tough time recently.’
Luke was not sure how much detail Daniel had given, but the sergeant obviously wanted some sort of confirmation. ‘That’s true, Officer, he has hit a bit of a crossroads in his personal life. I thought it would be a good time for him to get away from London for a bit.’
‘Have you had any contact with Daniel since he left London?’
‘He phoned me yesterday. He told me about the unfortunate man who was found dead on the coastal path.’ The pause at the other end of the line made Luke feel uneasy. ‘Daniel is not in any trouble, is he?’
There was a further pause before the sergeant replied, ‘Well, the post-mortem has since confirmed that the death was not down to natural causes, so we have to conduct a thorough investigation. With Daniel being in the cottage so near to the body site, he obviously comes under scrutiny.’
Luke could hardly believe what he was hearing. He thought it typical that only Daniel could find himself in this situation. ‘I can assure you, Officer, that Daniel is one of the most passive people I know.’
‘He certainly comes across as a decent sort, Mr Sadler, but we obviously have to do our job.’
‘I understand that, Officer. As it happens I am coming down to see him tomorrow.’
‘Well then, I hope you have a good journey, Mr Sadler. Much appreciate your cooperation.’ Having sensed Sadler’s seemingly genuine concern for his cousin, he added, ‘You have my number if you need it.’
In view of the way things seemed to be panning out for Daniel, Luke thought that the number might well prove useful. ‘No problem. Thanks.’
Luke shook his head as he rang off. He turned off the TV and made his way upstairs. Halfway up the steps he shouted, ‘Kate, wait till you hear the latest.’
On the street outside Luke Sadler’s house, Mark Reid drummed his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel. In the hope of catching a glimpse of Daniel Felton, he had now been waiting there for the best part of four hours. Disappointingly, there had been no sign of him so far. He reasoned to himself that there was still a good chance that Felton was in the house, but years of experience and finely-honed intuition told him differently. If his instincts proved to be correct then at some point he would have to fix a GPS tracking device on Sadler’s car. Acutely aware of his growing hunger, he decided there was no point in waiting around any longer. He started the engine of his Ford Fiesta. He planned to return in the early morning.
*
Daniel was having another restless night. He had been sleeping on and off, but now he felt wide awake. His mind felt like it was in overdrive. He looked at the time on his mobile; it was coming up to three o’clock. He turned over in the bed for the umpteenth time… and then he heard it. The cast-iron bell at the door rang loud and clear. For a split second he froze, before rising from the bed and going to the window. Straining to see in the gloom, it appeared that as before, there was nobody to be seen. As he stared down at the partly obscured doorway, the bell rang loudly once more. He stood transfixed at the window for the next few minutes, expecting at any moment to see a shadowy figure emerge in the darkness. But no such figure appeared. As he watched, a gentle coastal mist appeared to float towards the doorway. It began to form into swirling, twisting shapes. The effect was almost hypnotic; and then he saw it. It had been fleeting but he had definitely seen it. For the briefest of moments, the mist had somehow evolved itself into a hazy human silhouette. He felt a cold shiver go down his spine. He moved away from the window. For one panic-stricken moment, he seriously felt like he was going mad. He made a determined effort to regain his composure and told himself that the vision could only have been a product of his fevered imagination. But it was still no explanation for the bell ringing at the door. That was very real. Feeling unnerved and very alone, he sat down on the bed and put his head into his trembling hands. In that moment he felt desperately close to tears.
*
In the bedroom of an old tin miner’s house, just a few miles away from the Chough cottage, a young man reached under his bed to grab an old muslin sack, much soiled by mud and grime. As he pulled it towards him, the sack emitted the faint sound of metal string on hollowed wood. He reached in and pulled out a musical instrument. He laughed softly to himself as his fingers began to strum it gently.