Cold Justice (Willis/Carter #4)(27)

‘I think the person who has him is just an ordinary person. I mean, no one professional would have made these kind of mistakes. People who are used to abusing are masters at covering their tracks. This person is making clumsy mistakes. They may have taken money from the cashpoint. There’s a camera on it. It was blowing a gale. We can’t be sure when these were dropped unless forensics can tie something up for us.’

‘Are you ready to go?’ She nodded. Her eyes were still searching the car park.

‘Okay, then, let’s grab a drink. We still have another two and a half hours to go at least.’

They queued up for coffee and then headed back to the car. ‘Have you had a look at the info on where we’re headed?’ Carter asked when they got back in, carefully prising the top off his coffee.

Willis took out her iPad and settled.

‘ ‘‘Penhal is located between the lively resort of Penhaligon and the affluent village of Rockyhead,’’ ’ she read as she showed him a photo of sand dunes and sparkling blue seas. ‘It’s on the Camel Estuary. Famous for golden sands, sailing, seafood and more than a few second homes.’

‘I’m not surprised that Jeremy Forbes-Wright had a home there. I would if I could afford it.’

Willis hid a smile as she glanced his way and continued: ‘The beach at Penhal is well known for surfing.’

‘Anyone famous live there?’

‘A couple of authors I’ve never heard of. But a lot of famous people holiday in the area.’

‘How far is the Forbes-Wright house from the beach?’

Willis looked at the map. ‘Five-minute walk?’

‘Okay, I’m ready. Let’s hit the road,’ Carter said as he switched on the engine. ‘We need to liaise with the local CID first in Penhaligon.’

After half an hour of silence Willis glanced across at Carter. ‘You okay, guv?’

‘Yeah, just thinking about the burglary.’

‘It’s not a nice thing to happen.’

‘No, but it’s life, hey?’

‘Do you know what they took?’

‘They took pretty much everything that mattered to me material-wise: all the expensive stuff like the music system, cameras, jewellery.’ Willis looked at Carter’s wrist. He was still sporting the chunky gold bracelet that he always wore. ‘Yeah, luckily I didn’t lose absolutely all my stuff. It’s the personal things like photos and mementoes that you can’t replace. They just trashed stuff that wasn’t worth anything money-wise. Cabrina was up all night thinking of more things that must have been stolen. When she wasn’t making a list, she was crying. They took Archie’s christening gifts. That finished her off.’

‘I’m sorry, guv, it’s a horrible thing to happen.’

‘What about you – has anyone ever burgled your house?’

‘Ours? No. There’d be nothing to steal. I take my laptop to work every day and I don’t have anything else. Tina has a telly in her room, and that’s it.’

‘They could use her bra as a swag bag. They’d get loads in there.’

‘Dan Carter!’

‘Just saying, that’s all.’

‘I don’t think I have anything I would mind about losing,’ Willis said, as she opened a packet of crisps and offered it to Carter. He declined. ‘The things I treasure are all replaceable, like photos on my laptop. They’re out in cyberspace – I can easily get them back.’

Willis rested her head and watched the countryside pass by outside.

She sat up at the sound of a message coming through on her iPad. She balanced it on her lap.

‘It’s Robbo,’ she said. ‘He’s sent us through more information on the funeral-goers. He’s broken it down for us into connections and family ties and included a map of where they live.’

‘He’s good.’

‘He’s the best.’ She began to read from the screen. ‘Seven people went up that day from Penhal. There’s the Stokes family, they live on a farm about three miles from the beach,’ she said as she brought up the map as well. ‘There were three of them there: there’s Martin, obviously.’

‘That’s the man who lets Jeremy’s house?’

‘Yes. Then there were his two children: his son Towan, who’s thirty-three, and daughter Mawgan, who’s twenty-seven.’

‘Excuse me a minute, this is a farming family?’

‘Yes, they also own the farm shop in the village.’

‘So, what’s he doing looking after JFW’s house?’

‘Not sure. Robbo says he’s looked into that and there is no trace of a letting company or any tax files that match.’

‘A private arrangement, then.’

‘Seems like it.

‘Who else?’

‘Mary-Jane Trebethin and her son Jago.’

‘And they are?’

‘Mary-Jane, aged fifty-two, owns the dress shop in Penhal. She’s divorced. Lived there for thirty years. We don’t have anything on her son Jago except that he’s thirty-one.’

‘Okay, so that’s five down.’

‘Raymonds, of course.’

‘Six.’

‘The last one is Raymonds’ son, Marky.’