Jade Finbury lives at Porth Minick, a few minutes’ journey from Hugh Town. Eddie joins me in the van as we drive past Old Town Beach, which looks deserted today. Jade told me once that her passion for flying made her buy the house closest to the airport, and she wasn’t kidding. The semi-detached villa has a direct view of the runway, which comes to an abrupt halt just before the cliff pitches into the sea. Jade’s red Mini is still parked on her drive. The island’s native agapanthus flowers are spilling through slats in her fence, every window gleaming with cleanliness.
There’s no answer when I press the doorbell, apart from the sound of a cat mewing to be set free. My deputy looks apprehensive when he peers through her letterbox. He must have flown with Jade to the mainland dozens of times, like me. She’s a chatty, popular figure, who seems to have no secrets to hide.
‘How long’s she been missing?’ Eddie asks.
‘For the past hour, it’s only just been reported.’ There’s no sign of trouble when I peer through the window into her lounge. The space looks homely, with an array of brightly coloured cushions piled on her sofa. ‘Let’s try round the back.’
Eddie is close behind as I follow the path. Jade has followed our safety advice to the letter: both doors to her property are locked, but there must be a reason why a conscientious pilot hasn’t turned up for work. If an intruder caught her returning home, no one would have heard her cries for help. The holiday cottage next door has stood empty for months, in need of renovation.
‘We need to get inside,’ I mutter.
‘She’s left an upstairs window ajar. Want me to give it a try?’
‘How, exactly?’
‘Give me a leg up, I’ll see what I can do.’
My admiration grows as he clambers across the flat roof, shins up a drainpipe, then slips through the open window. Eddie greets me at the front door moments later.
‘Spider Man’s got nothing on you.’
His choirboy face opens into a smile. ‘Gymnastics was my best subject at school.’
My worst fear is that we’ll find Jade in the same state as Sabine, but the house appears empty, her kitchen spotless. When I look out through her back window, the plane she flew over from Penzance is still parked on the runway, beside the airport building’s square outline. A couple of letters lie on her desk, ready to be posted: her handwriting is easy to read, the letters sloping forwards as if they’re racing to complete each line.
‘She’d never just bunk off work, would she?’ Panic flickers across Eddie’s face.
‘If she was caught here, the MO is changing. The other two attacks were at remote locations, not right on the victim’s doorstep, in sight of other houses.’
‘Maybe the killer’s gaining confidence.’
‘We need to see if she’s with Leo Kernick.’
Jade’s boyfriend is the island’s only professional photographer. Kernick was born on St Mary’s, but spent years travelling with the paparazzi, photographing celebrities sunning themselves on faraway beaches, before returning home. I’ve often seen him with Jade over the past year, but the couple keep separate homes. It’s still only 9 a.m. when we pull up outside Kernick’s studio by Porth Mellon. The building is just a glorified shed, with a corrugated iron roof, its shutters firmly closed.
When I knock on the door a terse male voice instructs us to stay outside. The photographer appears soon after, releasing a stink of chemicals and a haze of red light. His appearance reminds me why people gossip about his relationship. He’s twenty years older than Jade and looks like an aging rock star, with a mane of greying ringlets, tight jeans and a shirt that’s spattered with liquid, as if he’s doused himself in champagne. A smudge of black eyeliner would make him a dead-ringer for Jack Sparrow in the Pirates of the Caribbean films that keep being repeated on TV, long after their sell-by date.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting, I was developing yesterday’s shots.’ The man’s smile of greeting barely arrives, his voice roughened by a lifetime’s cigarettes.
‘Can we come in, Leo?’
He’s still blocking the doorway. ‘If this is about my car tax, you don’t need to arrest me. I can renew it today.’
‘You’re not in trouble, we just need some information.’
The photographer flicks the light switch, turning the atmosphere inside his darkroom from red to white. Dozens of monochrome photos are hanging from a line to dry. They show local fishing boats in Hugh Town harbour, and close-ups of fishermen unloading their creels. The men look so relaxed they seem unaware that their images are being recorded.
Kernick sees me glancing at them. ‘I’ve been taking the lobstermen’s portraits all year.’
‘How come?’ I ask.
‘It’s the end of an era. Most of them are fourth or fifth generation fishermen, but their knowledge of the sea is dying. Their kids have moved away because they can’t afford homes here. I could have shot the portraits digitally, but film feels more authentic for something so fragile.’
‘You’ve caught them perfectly,’ I reply, taking a step closer. ‘When’s the last time you saw Jade, Leo?’
‘Last night.’ He clears a pile of photographic paper from a bench, so we can sit down. ‘We had dinner together at mine, then she went home.’
The man’s body language seems relaxed. I can’t tell yet if it’s shyness or anxiety that makes him reluctant to meet my eye.
‘Have you spoken to her today?’
‘We had a minor disagreement last night; I’m letting her cool off.’
‘Jade didn’t turn up for work. Can you call her for us, please?’
Kernick picks up his phone without hesitation. His face is blank when he ends the call. ‘She’s not answering. Is that why you’re here?’
‘We’re concerned she might be in danger.’
‘Where’s her car?’
‘On her drive. What time did she leave yours?’
‘Tennish, I think. Maybe she’s ill; I should go to her place.’ His body language is unchanged, but there’s a tremor of panic in his voice.
‘She’s not there. Did you ask her to stay over last night?’
‘That’s why we argued. I want us to live together, but she likes her own space. I stayed at my flat after we finished exchanging insults.’ He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, then drops it on the table, which fills me with relief. The air is so loaded with chemicals, a single spark might send the place up in flames.
‘Who can verify that?’
‘My neighbours would have heard her leave, as well as our shouting match.’
‘Do you two often argue?’
‘Hardly ever. Most of the time we get on fine.’
‘Has Jade ever had trouble from anyone on St Mary’s?’
‘She’s never mentioned it. There must be a simple explanation.’
‘Do you own a Polaroid camera, Leo?’
‘Not since I was a kid,’ he says, looking bemused. ‘My cheapest camera’s a vintage Nikon.’
‘Did you ever meet Sabine Bertans, at the Star Castle?’
‘I never go there; it’s outside my price range.’
‘Can I have your keys, please? I’m afraid you can’t go back to your flat until it’s been searched.’
He pulls his key fob from his pocket with a show of reluctance. ‘Jade and I have been together two years. Why in God’s name would I hurt her?’
‘We’ll be in contact later. Thanks for your help.’
Eddie looks perplexed when we get back to the van. Leo Kernick’s subdued manner makes him seem an unlikely killer, but the guy admitted to rowing with Jade last night. His flat will need to be checked carefully before we can establish whether his laid-back behaviour is just an act.