A Cornish Obsession: The Loveday Mysteries, #4

By Rena George

It's a snowy December night and Jago Tilley is making an unsteady way home from the village pub. He doesn't know that by morning he will be dead!

It falls to DI Sam Kitto, of Devon and Cornwall Police, to investigate the old fisherman's brutal murder, and once again magazine editor, Loveday Ross, finds herself involved in her policeman boyfriend's case.

Suspicion falls on the dead man's disreputable nephew, Billy Travis. But what is his relationship with St Ives gallery owner, Zachariah Paxton-Quinn?

Loveday's boss, Merrick Tremayne, is acting distinctly out of character. Could his strange mood have something to do with her discovery of a burglar rummaging through the magazine's old archive files?

And then there is the glamorous Dutch boutique owner, Sabine De Fries. What is her connection with the Tremayne family?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rena George
• Release date: Sep 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393066866

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Five Stars Inn wasn’t the only pub in Marazion, but it was the one Jago Tilley favoured, not least because he knew his old mate, Harry Tasker, would already be in there propping up the bar.

Locking his cottage, he stepped out into the bitter December night and glanced back to the dark vista of Mounts Bay. He could just make out the hazy cluster of lights over at Newlyn. The sight made his old heart contract.

In his mind’s eye he was back chugging out of Newlyn Harbour aboard his fishing boat, Maria, and off to join the rest of the fleet at the fishing grounds. He wondered where his old pilchard drifter was now. For all of his life, it had provided him with a good income, as it had his father before him. It deserved respect. He wondered if its new owner cared about it as much as he had.

Shaking his head, he tugged up the collar of his frayed black jacket and shuffled past the two adjacent cottages, scowling at the cheerless black windows. They were holiday homes now, and unoccupied at this time of year. Jago didn’t like things changing. In his day, family homes stayed with the family. He gave a disgruntled frown. Nobody respected the past, not anymore.

He was still chuntering to himself as he lumbered up the terrace to the main road that ran through the village.

Jago’s only neighbour now on the secluded terrace was Priddy. At the thought of her, the old man’s mouth quirked into a smile. What would he do without Priddy? Having her living just through the wall all these years was a comfort. Not that he’d tell her that, of course.

He reached the end of the terrace and crossed the main road, making his way the hundred yards along the narrow pavement to the pub.

When he got there, the door swung easily to his touch, and the pub smells – sticky beer, a faint aroma of cooking, and the damp waft of customers’ coats and jackets – assailed his nostrils. They were good smells, comforting smells.

‘Evening, Jago.’ The young barman looked up as he came in. ‘And how are you tonight?’

Jago couldn’t remember ever having given him permission to address him so familiarly.

‘Fine,’ he grunted, spotting Harry in their corner at the far end.

The barman was already pulling Jago’s pint before the old man had even clambered on to his stool.

Harry gave him a crooked smile. Jago often wondered if his old friend spent the entire day sitting at the bar and cadging drinks off the tourists with his rolling Cornish burr and tales of his exploits at sea. Jago knew that most of them weren’t true, but it didn’t matter. The Emmets, as the locals irreverently referred to the visitors, lapped them up anyway.

‘Well, what do ee think, Jago? Will it snow afore the morn?’

Jago lifted his eyes to the tall window and squinted out at the dark sky.

‘Reckon so,’ he said.

‘You’ve just missed your Billy,’ the barman interrupted, sliding Jago’s frothing pint across the bar counter to him.

Jago’s bushy white eyebrows came together in a frown as he tossed the coins for his beer on the bar top and growled, ‘He’s not my Billy.’

‘I thought you two were cousins?’

‘Well, we ain’t.’

The barman’s shoulders rose in a ‘not bothered’ shrug. He was only trying to be sociable.

‘You got a grouch on you tonight, Jago.’ Harry’s brow wrinkled at his old buddy. ‘What’s the matter with ee?’

Jago waited for the barman to move out of earshot.

‘That Billy came by pestering me again, that’s what. Says how he can get good prices for some of my stuff.’ He took a sip of his beer and wiped the froth from his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘He only wants to sell it at that car boot they do over Rosenden way.’

Both men fell silent, and then Harry said, ‘Have you got some good stuff over there, then?’

‘That’s none of your business, Harry Tasker – and it’s none of Billy’s either.’

‘Keep yer calm, Jago. You told the barman a fib. Young Billy is a relation of yours, in’t ee?’

‘And that’s another thing that’s none of your concern,’ Jago barked.

Harry put his hands up as though in self-defence. ‘OK, don’t be blowing your top. I was only making conversation.’

The old man gave a grudging sigh and shook his head. ‘Oh, pay no heed to me, Harry. It’s just that Billy Travis, ee’s got me so twisted up inside…’ He didn’t finish the sentence, turning instead to his companion. ‘It’s only an excuse to rummage through my cottage. Ee thinks I don’t know what ee’s up to.’

Harry drained his glass and put it back on the counter. ‘Just as well you can see through ’im then.’

‘Aye,’ Jago sighed again, but more satisfied this time as he hailed the barman and ordered refills for both of them.

‘And you can pour us both a glass o’ rum while you’re at it,’ he added.

The bar had filled up in the three hours that Jago and Harry had been drinking. The regular pub-goers wandered in and out. Several times, the two old friends were joined by others, and more drinks were handed round as the inevitable reminiscences were shared.

‘You’re pushing the boat out tonight, Jago,’ someone commented, and got a scowl. Jago knew he had a reputation for being tight-fisted, but he enjoyed his beer, and the comradeship he and his old friend shared.

Tonight, however, Harry had left the Five Stars before him, and when Jago looked round, he realised most of the people remaining in the bar were strangers to him. He grimaced. Time to go home.

Struggling down from his stool, he weaved an unsteady path to the door.

‘Sure you’ll be all right for getting home, Jago?’ the barman called after him.

Jago raised a dismissive arm. ‘I’ve been finding me way there for more’n seventy years, lad. Don’t need none of your help now.’

He pushed the door open, staggering back as the blast of freezing night air hit him. He steadied himself on the doorjamb, feeling woozy. ‘Impudent pup,’ he muttered to himself as he lurched across the road.

The snow that Jago had predicted earlier was falling, just light, feathery flakes, but they were gathering in the gutters and the shop doorways as he made his slow progress along the main street. When he reached the turning that led down to his cottage, Jago felt a little jab of relief. Almost there, and he was still on his feet.

Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out his key and unlocked the door – and then he stopped, listening. His heart gave a little lurch as the noise came again. Was that someone moving about up the stairs? He tiptoed through to the front room and peered up at the ceiling. There it was again. The old man’s heart was pounding now. He’d told Billy Travis to leave him alone, yet here he was, searching his bedroom.

He waited, hardly daring to breathe. It had all gone quiet again. Maybe he’d imagined the noise, but he knew he wouldn’t rest until he’d checked.

He plodded to the stairs. The effects of the beer and rum he’d drunk in the Five Stars had made him giddy. One step at a time and he’d get there.

He’d reached the landing when he saw the shadowy movement. ‘Who’s there?’ he barked.

The indistinct shape moved in front of him.

Jago narrowed his eyes, trying to focus, and then he scowled. ‘You again?’ He raised his arms to strike out. ‘I told you not to come–’

But Jago Tilley didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. He felt the pressure on his shoulders, and suddenly he was falling.

His arms flayed out as he tried to grab something to save himself. His nails tore frantically at the wall, but there was nothing to grip. He was hurtling backwards, plunging uncontrollably down the stairs. Pain seared through him as his head struck the floor at the bottom.

For a second he just lay there, stunned, trying to understand what was happening to him. He could hear his attacker’s feet pounding down the stairs. Jago tried to lift his head, but he couldn’t. He tried to speak, but his words sounded all mashed up and incoherent. He gasped for breath, trying to control his speech.

His assailant rushed past him into the front room.

‘Help me…’ the old man croaked. ‘Don’t leave me here!’ He tried to call louder, but his voice only came out in a bleated whisper. ‘Help me!’

He could hear the feet returning. Surely they would call for help? He forced his eyes open, trying to focus on the dark shape of his attacker towering over him. Then he saw the arms go up, felt the rush as the familiar object smashed down on his face again and again, until the blackness came.

Chapter 2

The overnight snow had left a thin white covering over the gardens and rooftops of Marazion. Loveday looked up and frowned at the heavy sky. There would be more to come, but the weather would not stop her morning ritual.

She pulled the black leather jerkin over her tracksuit and zipped it up to her chin before heading up the drive, leaving footprints in the snow as she crossed the road to the beach.

Anyone who saw her pounding along the tideline this morning would think she was mad – which is exactly what she was. Good and mad!

Who did Sam Kitto think he was, speaking to her like that? It was an impossible relationship. She’d thought they were having a calm, adult exchange of views, but Sam hadn’t reacted at all as she had expected.

‘Stop seeing each other?’ He’d stared at her, eyes narrowed in disbelief. ‘What are you talking about?’

Loveday had paced her tiny sitting room, anything to avoid those accusing brown eyes. ‘I’m not saying we can’t still be friends,’ she’d started.

Sam put up a hand. ‘Let me get this right. This is because I told you to stay out of police business, right?’ He let out an exasperated sigh. ‘For God’s sake, Loveday. You’re an intelligent woman. You must see how awkward things are for me when you go poking around my cases? The top brass already thinks I’m passing information to you.’

‘Well, it’s awkward for me too,’ she said, moving to the window. There was more snow in the air; she could almost smell it. Across the bay, the lights on St Michael’s Mount twinkled, little pinpricks of sparkle in the darkness. She spun round to face him again. ‘Everyone at the magazine assumes you tell me things, and that I’m just being coy about denying it.’

‘Merrick knows me better than that,’ Sam snapped.

‘It’s not personal, you know that,’ she came back, hesitating, searching for the right words. The last thing she’d intended was to hurt him, but he was taking this all the wrong way. All she wanted was a cooling-off period, a backing off from the ever-increasing rows. She crossed the room and took his hand. ‘I just think we need some time away from each other,’ she said gently.

But he’d snatched his hand away, his eyes darkening in anger. What was she doing? It was all coming out wrong. She’d been about to tell him she was thinking of going home to Scotland for Christmas so he could spend time with his two children in Plymouth.

A breathing space for both of them. That was all she’d meant.

‘I don’t think there’s much point in continuing this conversation,’ Sam had said, getting to his feet. ‘It’s clear you want me to go.’

‘But I don’t,’ Loveday ached to say. She wanted to put her arms around him and tell him she was sorry for starting this stupid conversation, but he was being stubborn. She stepped back as he strode past, making no effort to touch her.

‘Sam…’ she started, as he ducked through the low door. But he didn’t turn. She could sense the willpower he was mustering not to slam the door behind him as he stormed out.

But that was last night, and she had to stop thinking about it. She took a deep breath, focusing on pacing herself as she followed the curve of the beach.

By the time she got back to her cottage, she was panting. She could hear her mobile phone ringing on the other side of the kitchen door. It was bound to be Sam. Did she even want to talk to him? She wasn’t sure. But when she got in and reached for it, she saw Cassie’s name.

‘Please tell me you’re not ringing me from next door, Cassie?’

There was a slight pause, and then her friend said, ‘What’s got into you today? Get out of bed on the wrong side, did we?’

Loveday flopped into a chair. ‘Sorry, ignore me. I’ve just got in from my run and I’m still all over the place.’

‘Isn’t that supposed to chill you out?’

‘Yeah,’ Loveday said wearily, pushing a hand through her long, dark hair. ‘But not till after my shower.’

‘Well, OK,’ Cassie said. ‘But after that. Have you got anything planned?’

‘Other than pigging out on chocolate and watching an old black and white movie on TV? No, not really.’

‘Fancy a spot of baking?’

‘What?’

‘You heard. I’ve been roped into doing the food for the sailing club’s Christmas party. I’d be grateful for another pair of hands. What d’you think?’

Loveday sighed. ‘You know my sponge puddings have been used to cement cracks on the pavements?’

Cassie laughed. ‘Yes, I heard that, but I’m willing to risk it if you are.’

There was a moment’s hesitation and then Loveday said, ‘When you put it as nicely as that, how can I refuse?’

‘Come by when you’re ready, then. And Loveday… thanks.’

It took ten minutes to shower, and another five to get into her jeans and sweater, and plait her hair into a long, tidy rope.

Delicious baking smells were already wafting from Cassie’s kitchen as Loveday crossed the yard and tapped on the door before walking in. She glanced around. The big, bright kitchen looked under siege. A heap of messy plates, cups, mixing bowls, and spoons filled one of the two sinks. The big wooden table was littered with baking paraphernalia, and on the worktop next to the Aga were several trays of pastries and fairy cakes.

Cassie looked up and pushed her long blonde fringe out of her eyes with the heel of a floury hand. ‘I know,’ she grinned. ‘It’s like organised chaos.’

Loveday raised an eyebrow. ‘What have you done with the kids?’

‘Well, I haven’t strangled them or anything, although it has been tempting.’ She nodded towards the door. ‘They’re watching children’s telly in the front room. Adam’s got his Saturday surgery this morning, so they’ve been warned to be quiet.’

Loveday gave her a wistful smile. ‘Sophie and Leo are brilliant kids. You two are so lucky.’

Cassie looked up from her mixing bowl. ‘That came from the heart.’ She searched her friend’s face. ‘OK, what’s up?’

Loveday gave a weary sigh. ‘Just me putting my enormous feet in everything again.’

Cassie waited.

‘Sam and I have split up.’

Her friend’s eyes widened. ‘Ah…’

Loveday looked away, hoping Cassie had missed the prick of tears in her eyes.

‘It was me who finished it,’ she blurted. ‘I didn’t mean to. I just needed some space. Sam’s on duty over most of the holidays and I was thinking of going up to Scotland to spend Christmas with my family. It all seemed like such a good idea yesterday.’

‘I take it Sam didn’t see it that way?’

Loveday shook her head. ‘He thinks I don’t want him, but it’s not that.’

‘What then?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, Cassie. I just wish now that I’d left well alone.’

‘Would coffee help?’ Her friend smiled.

Loveday’s nose was twitching. ‘Can you smell burning?’

Cassie rushed across the kitchen and threw open the oven door. A cloud of black smoke filled the room. The smoke detector in the hall buzzed. Sophie and Leo charged in, and from the far side of the house, Adam’s feet could be heard pounding towards them.

‘It’s fine,’ she called out, hands raised in a ‘stay calm’ gesture as he appeared at the kitchen door. ‘Just some cremated mince pies.’

Adam shook his head, grinning. ‘I’ll get back and reassure my patients that we’re not evacuating the building then.’

‘Sorry, darling,’ Cassie grimaced after him as he returned to his surgery, turning off the smoke detector as he passed it.

‘Will the fire engines be coming, Mummy?’ Leo asked excitedly.

‘Not this time, angel,’ Cassie ruffled Leo’s blond hair. ‘It was a false alarm. You two go back to the front room and I’ll bring in some juice and biscuits.’

Both children looked so disappointed that there was to be no fire and rescue drama that Loveday threw her arms around them, promising to bring the snacks through herself.

She was still smiling after them when the hammering started on the kitchen door.

Cassie glanced up, frowning, but before she could wipe her hands, the door flew open and a small, elderly woman rushed in.

Cassie’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Priddy! Whatever’s happened?’ In an instant, she was across the room, an arm around the old lady’s shoulders guiding her to a chair.

Loveday took a glass from the drainer and filled it from the tap.

‘Here,’ she said, handing it to the agitated visitor. ‘Sip this.’

The woman accepted the glass and took a sip of water before handing it back.

‘It’s all right, Priddy,’ Cassie said soothingly. ‘Take your time. Just tell us what on earth has happened?’

The woman’s face crumpled, and she began to sob.

‘It’s Jago,’ she said, turning huge, worried eyes on them. ‘I think he’s dead.’

‘Dead?’ Cassie repeated, glancing up at Loveday.

Priddy nodded, a saturated hankie balled into her fist. She was desperately trying to control the sobbing.

‘I came to fetch the doctor. I need him to come back with me.’

Loveday touched the old lady’s shoulder.

‘Try to stay calm,’ she said quietly. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’

The frightened blue eyes stared up at her.

‘It was that old stair carpet. I told him this would happen, but he wouldn’t listen.’ Priddy bit her lip and reached for Cassie’s hand. And then she noticed the table strewn with baking things. ‘That’s what I was doing this morning, too. I always pop a few scones through to Jago