A Cornish Deception: The Loveday Mysteries, #7

By Rena George

Determined to dispel fears that her friend Hannah's caravan home is haunted, Loveday ignores the warnings of her policeman partner, Sam, not to get involved.

But as she settles in to spend the night alone in the caravan things start to happen and her jewellery disappears.

Confused, Loveday checks the windows - and shrinks back in shock. An apparition - filmy and white - is moving outside the caravan.

Her heart is hammering. There are no ghosts! So what's that pounding on her door?

Summoning all her courage, she steps outside.

She doesn't see the body at first, but it's there. Startled dead eyes staring out into the night.

Eyes in a face that Loveday is soon to recognize!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rena George
• Release date: Nov 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393682066

Book preview

Chapter 1

Loveday was not feeling at all confident as she pulled into Symington’s car park. It was Cornwall’s most prestigious antiques auction house. She had intended dropping by for the previous day’s viewing, but there had been the usual last-minute panic at the office to get the magazine to the publisher on time, and with Merrick away in Italy for a week the onus was on her, as editor, to get it right. So here she was, an hour before the sale was due to start, searching for a space in the busy car park. She spotted one at the far end and swept the Clio into it and then got out to hurry inside the building.

There was furniture everywhere, and she had to squeeze round a large mahogany dresser and a tapestry-covered chaise longue to get inside. The place smelled of age, dust and polish. Loveday’s nose twitched. It was quite pleasant. She passed a reception desk where she could see a couple of women busy on phones. Behind them, men in suits appeared to be checking catalogues and scanning computer screens. The place was buzzing.

She’d not been to an auction sale before and would have enjoyed the excitement if she hadn’t felt under pressure to buy this bible box for Merrick.

Loveday looked around her. The place was a maze of corridors, and the antiques seemed to spill out from everywhere.

The main saleroom, when she found it, was already full of people, most of whom seemed to be marking catalogues as they browsed around the items for sale. She bought one from a member of staff and asked to be pointed in the direction of the bible box.

She was still examining the picture in the catalogue as she moved away. She couldn’t see what was so special about it. It looked like the top part of an old school desk, and then she noticed the price – £1,000 to £1,500. She swallowed. Was this right? Why would anyone pay so much for an old box?

The assistant was at her shoulder again.

‘It’s a come and buy me estimate,’ she advised. ‘It will probably realise a lot more.’

If Loveday had been less than confident before, she was feeling distinctly nervous now. Merrick had not indicated how valuable this thing was likely to be. Why had he trusted her to bid on his behalf? She pulled out her phone and stared at it. Should she ring him in Rome? She didn’t even know what time of day it would be there. He had been adamant she should put in the winning bid.

‘I’m depending on you, Loveday. You’re the only one I can trust to do this for me,’ he’d said.

But he hadn’t known then what the estimate would be. She should have paid more attention to what he’d told her at the time. She knew Merrick wanted the box for his elderly father, Edward Tremayne, the original owner of Cornish Folk magazine.

She liked Edward, with his old-world charm, but she wasn’t surprised the magazine had fallen on hard times when he had been at the helm. The cutthroat world of commerce had not suited Edward Tremayne, but he’d refused to change his ways and move with the times, and so the magazine had suffered. That’s when Merrick had stepped in to take charge, slimming down production costs and making difficult, but necessary, decisions to reduce the number of staff. Loveday knew exactly how much he would have hated that, but it had saved the magazine. Cornish Folk was still being run on a shoestring budget, but they were a team and everyone continued to embrace the challenge of keeping the magazine viable.

The Tremayne family lived in a large converted farmhouse on the outskirts of Truro, where Loveday and Sam were regular dinner guests. Her mind went back to the large drawing room where Edward now spent most of his time. The walls were lined with paintings, and his precious antiques filled the room. And now he wanted a bible box, not any old bible box, but this particular 16th-century one that looked likely to cost several thousands of pounds.

Loveday had been directed to find the item in the upstairs viewing room. The stairs creaked as she climbed, emerging in an area crowded with furniture. She glanced around, wondering how she was ever likely to find this bible box thing amongst all the other stuff. But as she moved about the room, she saw the sale was more organised than she’d realised. Each item had a number that corresponded with its entry in the catalogue.

The bible box was numbered 105 in the catalogue. Loveday began checking the rows of furniture. She found 103, 104, and then 105. The box sat on top of a polished dark wood table. She moved in for a closer look, laying her hand on the old pitted oak lid and trailing her fingers over the aged grooves. She had to admit that it did have a kind of charm. It was incredible to think it had been around for five hundred years. She wondered who might have owned it in all that time.

The movement around her took her by surprise. People were making their way downstairs. She followed them to the main saleroom. The place was so packed with bodies that Loveday could hardly squeeze in at the back. She muttered to herself. Stuck here behind all these other bidders, how could she hope to have any chance of making that successful bid for Merrick? The auctioneer wouldn’t even be able to see her. She should have arrived sooner and got one of those places near the front.

She was frowning, annoyed, at the people ahead of her, when a movement near the auctioneer’s rostrum caught her eye. Someone was waving a catalogue. ‘Down here, Loveday,’ the person was calling. ‘There’s a seat down here.’

Loveday craned her neck to see and then grinned. It was Priddy Rodda. What was her friend Priddy doing here? But now wasn’t the time for questions. She was here, and she had a spare seat for Loveday right up at the front.

She began to ease her way through the crush, smiling apologetically to everyone who gave way to her.

Priddy continued to wave as Loveday fought her way to the front. ‘I was saving it for Hannah,’ she called. ‘But she can’t come.’

‘You’re a lifesaver, Priddy,’ Loveday gasped, all but collapsing onto the hard chair as her catalogue slid to the floor and she bent to retrieve it. ‘Not that I’m complaining or anything, but what on earth are you doing here?’ She laughed, settling breathlessly beside her friend.

‘I’m always here on auction days,’ Priddy whispered back as the auctioneer arrived and the proceedings began. ‘It’s what you’re doing here that I want to know.’

Loveday thrust the catalogue in front of Priddy and tapped the picture of the bible box. ‘I’m bidding on this for Merrick.’

Priddy’s eyebrow arched as she saw the guide price. ‘He’s prepared to pay all that? But that’s scandalous.’

‘I know, but he wants it for his father.’ Loveday slid her friend a hopeful look. ‘The thing is, Priddy,’ she said, bending her head towards her in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘I don’t know a thing about bidding. I don’t suppose you would do it for me? I have to get this box no matter what it costs.’

Loveday saw the gleam of excitement in Priddy’s eyes and hoped she wasn’t being too rash by handing over this responsibility to her friend.

The sale of the bible box came round faster than Loveday had expected. Bids were flying in fast from all corners of the room. The price had reached £3,000 and was rising in units of £100. In no time, it was £4,500, and then £4,600 and £4,700. Priddy’s hand was still shooting up as she vied with the other bidders. Loveday wanted to bury her head in her hands. She wasn’t at all sure this should be happening. And then she heard the auctioneer calling out £4,900. There was a pause, and then, ‘Going once, going twice. For the last time…’ He raised his gavel, scanning the room for any more bids, but there were none. The gavel came down with a sharp crack, and the auctioneer pointed to Priddy.

‘Congratulations, madam. It’s yours.’

Priddy beamed at Loveday.

‘We got it,’ she said triumphantly.

‘So you did,’ said Loveday. She was wondering what Merrick would say when she told him how much it had cost him.

They were fighting their way through the crush to get out of the room when Priddy tugged her sleeve. She nodded to a man moving ahead of them.

‘That’s who was bidding against me. Do you know him?’

Loveday frowned, shaking her head just as the man turned and they saw him in profile.

‘He does look familiar,’ she said.

‘What about the young woman with him?’

Loveday shook her head. ‘I don’t recognise her.’ She frowned. ‘I’m wondering if we shouldn’t chase after him and tell him he can have the wretched box.’

‘Did I bid too high? You said Merrick really wanted the thing.’

Loveday put an arm round Priddy’s shoulders and gave her a crooked smile.

‘Don’t mind me. I’m sure Merrick will be delighted.’

But her fingers were crossed behind her back as they went to the office to settle up.

Merrick had authorised her to use the business’s bank card to purchase the bible box, and asked her to have it delivered to the magazine office.

‘He’s still there,’ Priddy said, as Loveday gave the delivery address.

‘I think he’s watching us.’

Loveday turned to speak to her friend, but her eyes glanced over the growing queue behind them. The man turned away before she caught his eyes, but not before she got a good look at him.

‘Why do you think he’s so interested in us?’ Priddy said, as Loveday shot ahead out to the car park.

The man was nowhere to be seen. But as she stood at the top of the stairs, her mobile phone in her hand, she spotted him. He drove past in an old station wagon, a woman by his side. Loveday quickly read the number, dictating it into her phone. If the man had been up to no good, then Sam could check out his vehicle on the Police National Computer.

Chapter 2

‘W hat was all that about?’ Priddy puffed up behind Loveday. ‘You took off like a bat out of hell.’

‘Sorry.’ Loveday slipped her phone back into her pocket. ‘There was something about that couple. I was interested to see where they went.’

Priddy made a clucking sound and shook her head, but she was smiling.

‘Being with you is always exciting, Loveday.’

Loveday grinned back at her. ‘Anyway, it was you who planted the suspicion in my head that they were watching us.’

‘They were,’ Priddy said indignantly. ‘I don’t like being watched.’

‘Well, whoever they are, they’re gone now,’ Loveday said quickly. ‘And we need a cup of tea.’

Priddy’s smile spread from ear to ear. ‘I know a place in Merchant Jew Street where the scones are homemade and they put more than one tea bag in the pot.’

Loveday laughed, guiding the old lady to her car.

‘How can we resist that?’

Loveday had deliberately avoided dwelling on the suspicious couple. She knew Priddy had been extra cautious about her personal safety since her neighbour, old Jago Tilly, had been brutally murdered in his home. Unknown to Priddy, he had left a valuable painting hidden in her shed, and that’s what his attacker had been after. It was over a year since that terrible thing happened, but Priddy had still never quite recovered from the trauma.

Jago left the painting to Priddy in his will, but Loveday knew she never felt safe having it in her home. Donating it to the museum in Penzance had been the right thing to do, and she could see it any time she wanted.

The Cosy Corner Cafe lived up to its name, but the cosiness was more due to the fact that it was so small rather than any chintzy ambience. Still, the smell of freshly brewed tea that filled the cafe was comforting. They found a table and placed their order. Loveday glanced out at the busy street. She loved Penzance, and the bustle of the ancient Market Jew Street – a name from the old Cornish language Marghas Yow, meaning Thursday market.

She watched an elderly woman with a stick struggle up the steps to the higher street level opposite, and guessed that not everyone appreciated the quirky terrain.

She turned back to Priddy. ‘I didn’t know you collected antiques, Priddy.’

‘I don’t, but since I gave that painting to the museum, I’ve taken an interest. I’ve discovered so many beautiful works of art all around us.’ She smiled. ‘I go to all the auctions at Symington’s now. I like the atmosphere.’ She turned to Loveday. ‘Do you think I’m a mad old bat?’

Loveday rolled her eyes to the ceiling and pretended to think about that, and Priddy swiped a playful hand at her. A waitress arrived with their tea and scones and they made room on the tiny table for them.

‘Why was Merrick so keen to have the bible box, anyway?’ Priddy asked, pouring the tea into substantial white cups.

‘His father collects antiques, but I don’t know if the box is a surprise gift, or if he was acting on Edward’s instructions to buy it at all costs.’

Priddy passed a cup to Loveday.

‘What’s so special about this particular bible box that they were prepared to pay so much for it?’

‘Good question,’ Loveday said, tipping a splash of milk into her cup. ‘I suppose it depends on its history.’

Priddy waited until she had finished her mouthful of scone.

‘They call that a provenance or something, don’t they?’

Loveday nodded. She was wondering if the man who had fled the auction house so speedily had known that provenance, or had his interest been more in them than the bible box? The thought made her feel uneasy. The sooner she could get someone to check that registration plate, the better.

‘I don’t suppose I could beg a lift back to Marazion?’ Priddy asked. ‘Or are you desperate to get back to Truro?’

‘No worries,’ Loveday said, draining her cup. ‘The magazine will still be there when I get back. Anyway.’ She paused and grinned at Priddy. ‘I’m treating this morning as company business. Merrick owes you for putting your bidding skills at his disposal.’

‘Does that mean I’ve got a lift?’ Priddy asked. There was a twinkle in her blue eyes.

‘It’s exactly what it means,’ Loveday called back to her as she went to the counter to settle their bill.

The May sunshine sparkled on the water as they drove along the seafront, but when Loveday glanced at her passenger, she was frowning. She wondered if she was still thinking about the couple back at the auction place. She hoped her mind wasn’t dwelling on poor Jago.

‘You’ve gone very quiet,’ she said. ‘Everything OK?’

Priddy’s chest heaved in a sigh. ‘Not really, but I don’t want to burden you with my problems.’

‘Sharing problems is what friends are all about, Priddy. Tell me what’s wrong.’

Priddy gave another heartfelt sigh. ‘It’s Hannah. She’s having a bad time.’

Loveday knew Priddy’s daughter, Hannah, and her little girl, Emily, had moved to a mobile home park in St Ives after the landlord of their tiny flat in Marazion increased the rent to an unaffordable level.

They had reached the roundabout and Loveday indicated right and then left.

‘Isn’t Hannah happy in the mobile home?’ she asked.

‘It’s not that. They love it at Derowen Leisure Park. It’s the stealing that bothers Hannah.’

‘Stealing?’ Loveday’s voice rose. ‘What stealing?’

‘It started as petty pilfering. Little ornaments would go missing, some of Emily’s toys, nothing expensive, but not nice.’ She glanced out over the bay as St Michael’s Mount came into view.

‘Hannah didn’t mention it to anyone on the site because the owner had been kind to them, but this time the thief took a silver locket that Emily’s dad had given to her. It wasn’t especially valuable, but it meant a lot to Hannah.’

‘She has to report this to the police, Priddy, or at least to the owner of the site.’

Priddy pursed her lips as she considered this and then shook her head.

‘You know, Hannah, she won’t be told. She says if she makes a fuss then she and Emily might be evicted.’

They were driving along the seafront in Marazion, passing the Godolphin Hotel. Someone Priddy knew waved to her, and she responded with a smiling nod.

Loveday slowed the car to allow an oncoming vehicle to pass on the narrow road before turning down into the lane where Priddy lived.

The old lady was chewing her bottom lip, the worried expression still on her face, as they arrived at Storm Cottage. ‘If Hannah told them what was going on, no one would believe her.’

‘Of course they would,’ Loveday said. ‘She has to–’

But Priddy cut in before Loveday could finish the sentence.

‘You don’t understand. Hannah can’t report it. I told you, no one would believe her.’

Loveday’s brow wrinkled. ‘I don’t get it. Why would she not be believed?’

Priddy turned to meet her stare.

‘Hannah knows no one would believe her because…’ She paused. ‘Because the thief is a ghost!’

Chapter 3

Priddy had sparked Loveday’s curiosity. She couldn’t drive to Truro until she’d got an explanation.

‘Well, come on,’ she said, giving Priddy her full attention. ‘You can’t leave it there. What’s this ghost business about?’

‘Are you sure you’ve got time? Won’t you be expected back at the magazine?’ Priddy twisted round as Loveday followed her into her cottage.

‘I’m going nowhere until you’ve told me everything.’

Priddy sighed. ‘In that case, you’d better sit down.’ She flicked her fat black cat, Muffin, off her chair. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

Loveday felt she was already swimming in tea, but she didn’t complain. She listened with growing disbelief as her friend described how Hannah had been wakened one night and had actually seen the ghostly apparition for herself.

‘She was absolutely terrified,’ Priddy said. ‘And now she’s frightened to sleep at night in case the thing comes back.’

‘There has to be a logical explanation,’ Loveday reasoned.

But Priddy was shaking her head. ‘No, it’s a ghost all right. The thing is, Hannah can’t move out because she could never afford anything else, not now the tourist season is underway.’

Loveday got up and went to stand by the window. Through the stone arch at the end of the lane, she could see the white crests of the waves in Mounts Bay.

‘Does Hannah still work here at the library?’

Priddy put down her cup, her expression still anxious. ‘She does, but I don’t see–’

‘Let’s have a word with her,’ Loveday said.

It took them ten minutes to walk up the lane and along the road to the little library. Hannah’s eyebrows arched in surprise as they walked in.

Loveday put up a reassuring hand.

‘We don’t want to interrupt your work, Hannah. We can wait until you have a moment.’

Hannah glanced around her. ‘We’re not exactly busy. What’s this all about?’

Priddy threw a cautious look to the two people she could see browsing the books on the other side of the room. And then said to Hannah, ‘Don’t get angry, but I’ve told Loveday about your ghost.’

‘Mum!’ Hannah let out a hiss of exasperation. ‘I told you not to mention this to anyone. I’ll deal with it.’

She turned to Loveday. ‘Look, I’m sorry you were bothered. It’s good of you to show an interest, but there’s nothing you can do.’

‘You don’t really believe you are being robbed by a ghost,