Cold Justice (Willis/Carter #4)(69)
Carter gestured towards the Surfshack. ‘Gone surfing!’
‘Oh yes, I expect Marky has decided to catch some waves instead of working.’
‘But it looks like he’s done very well, owning the surf shop. It’s a big premises, nice-looking.’
‘Mmm.’ Mary-Jane turned up her nose as she picked at flecks of material that had floated onto her cash desk.
‘You don’t approve?’
‘Oh my goodness, I’m delighted for Marky. All the young people in the village deserve a big helping hand if we want them to stay here and make it their home.’
‘Have you lived here long?’
‘Since I married my husband, thirty-odd years ago.’
‘Is Mr Trebethin available for me to have a chat?’ Carter knew the answer but he was taking his time to study her. Her nose was so pinched it didn’t look real. She shook her head and frowned.
‘Mr Trebethin and I are no longer married. He moved to Australia. Now, how can I help, officer?’
‘You attended Jeremy Forbes-Wright’s funeral on Monday?’
‘That’s correct,’ she answered smugly.
‘Why did you go? Was he a special friend?’
‘I went to pay my respects, that’s all.’ She looked put out.
‘Did you hear about his grandson being abducted that afternoon?’
‘I did, so distressing. I don’t understand why you’ve come down here looking for him. I hope this village won’t become synonymous with a missing child. That’s the last thing we want.’
‘Let’s hope we find him soon then.’
‘You’d better go back to London and look.’
‘What did you do after the funeral?’
‘Uh, a bit of sight-seeing.’ The heat had come to her indignant face as she pulled out some cardigans from the shelves to her right and began refolding them.
‘Where?’
‘Greenwich, I think.’
‘Who were you with?’
‘Is this really relevant?’
‘I wouldn’t ask it if it wasn’t.’
‘Mr Raymonds and I took a look around Greenwich. We went into the Cutty Sark museum.’
‘But you didn’t come back with him?’
‘No, he had things to do, something came up. He left early and I went to join Mr Stokes.’
‘Whereabouts do you live?’
‘I live on the other side of the beach, above the cliffs.’
‘Near Mr Raymonds?’
‘Well, up the road from him.’
‘Your son Jago also went to the funeral, didn’t he?’
Her face transformed into a smile.
‘Jago wanted to go to the funeral.’ The smug smile had returned but this time it was accompanied by a slightly nervous tug at the corner.
Carter was half-watching the beach. He saw a VW van pull in with surfboards on the top. Carter watched Jago get out.
‘It must be great to have your son back home.’
‘It is.’
‘Are there many prospects for him here, do you think?’
‘He seems to manage very well. He picks up work here and there. He’s finding his feet.’
‘How old is your son, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘He’s thirty-one.’ Carter was watching Jago get into his wet suit and thinking that it probably wasn’t the time of life to just go surfing. Carter was a year away from forty and he knew how important his thirties had been, career-wise.
‘When you were in London, did you see anything of Kensa?’
‘No. Kensa didn’t go to the funeral.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why wouldn’t she have gone, when the rest of the village went?’
‘Well, I don’t know, I suppose Kensa didn’t have the same sort of relationship with the Forbes-Wright family.’
‘Tell me, do you know Cam and his sister Ella?’
‘Yes. Cam’s got the café on the beach. He’s doing well.’ She looked as if it hurt her to say it.
‘And Ella?’
‘I have no idea about Ella. She left here a long time ago.’
‘Tell me, Mary-Jane, how do you feel about Kellis House being sold? Would it worry you to see strangers living in it?’
‘No, I don’t think it would. I’m not sure I understand everyone’s reluctance to embrace the new. I’d like to see new blood here.’
‘Thank you for your help,’ he said to Mary-Jane. ‘If you get any children’s clothes going missing – the size that would fit a small two-year-old – please let me know at once.’
Carter stepped outside, walked back to his car and stood looking out towards the wild waves; they were breaking way out to sea. Their noise was deafening. Willis parked up beside him.
‘That sea looks freezing,’ Willis said as she got out of her car and rubbed her hands together, blowing on them. Carter gestured for them to get inside his car and talk. ‘Lovely to look at,’ Willis continued, once inside, ‘but frightening to get anywhere near – I’m not used to it, I suppose.’
‘It’s a bit like a dog,’ said Carter wistfully.