On Deadly Tides Page 10

  Penny glanced out the window at the view of the Menai Strait, and as she turned back to the room, Colin entered, holding his brochure and wearing a conspiratorial smile. The viewing continued with two more bedrooms and a tastefully remodelled bathroom with a roll top tub, and then they made their way down a set of backstairs to the ground floor and a look at a private, enclosed garden, similar to the one at Penny’s cottage.

  “Well, thank you very much for showing us the property,” Colin said as they retraced their steps through the kitchen to the entrance hall.

  “I’ve got to run along to my next appointment,” said Dylan Rees, handing each a business card, “but here’s my contact information if you have any questions or you’d like to request a second viewing. And especially if you want to make an offer.”

  “What did you think?” Colin asked as they walked toward the hotel. “Did you like it?”

  “I loved it,” Penny said. “It’s beautiful. What did you think?”

  “What really shocks me is that that lovely two-storey apartment, in a building that was beautifully constructed almost two hundred years ago, costs less than a condo in downtown Toronto with glass walls that will start falling out in about fifteen years.”

  “Do you know what’s the best thing about Georgian buildings?” Penny asked as they entered the hotel.

  “What’s that?”

  “Real Georgian people once lived in them.” She paused. “I loved the feeling of placing my hand on the very same spot on that banister where, two hundred years ago, a Georgian lady placed hers. To feel that living connection to the past.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  When they’d checked in and were settled on a sofa in the hotel lounge, with cups of coffee and a slice of cake to share, Colin took out his phone and opened it to the photo he’d taken in the dining room of the apartment. Penny nestled into his shoulder, and the two of them studied it.

  “That’s definitely her,” Penny said. “Sarah Spencer. Even though she’s younger and her hair is lighter there. Or maybe it’s just the way the light is. But who’s that man she’s with?”

  “I have no idea,” Colin said as they continued to peer at the image. “But then I don’t know many people here. Does he look familiar to you?” Penny lifted her head and their eyes met. When she returned to her comfortable position resting against him, Colin used his thumb and forefinger to enlarge the image so they could focus on the man’s face.

  “Possibly,” said Penny. “But if I’ve seen him before, I can’t place him.” She thought for a moment. “I wonder if he could be her husband. Cilla McKee mentioned that Sarah had been married, and her husband moved away, leaving her free to take up with Bill Ward. But if that is her husband, I haven’t a clue where I would have seen him.”

  Colin shrank the image back to its normal size. “What kind of door is that? If we can work out the location, that might help.”

  “It looks like a solid door, with that arch at the top, and fancy red brick work around it,” said Penny. “And with those raised panels it looks substantial.”

  “The paintwork has that thick glossiness that comes from many coats,” said Colin, “So the door is probably old. But it doesn’t look like it belongs on a typical private home, does it? What kind of building would have an important-looking door like that?”

  “A National Trust property?” Penny suggested.

  “Or a hotel?”

  “That could be it,” agreed Penny. “In fact, that makes sense. Cilla said that Sarah was working at a country house hotel when she and Ward met. Country house hotels tend to be old, so this photo could have been taken at that hotel. Let’s see if we can get a closer look at her face.” Once again Colin enlarged the image, and Penny peered at the screen. “Yes, she looks younger here. What do you think?”

  “I can’t really say. I’ve only seen her a couple of times, and I didn’t take too much notice of her in the bar that first night, to be honest. I bought a drink, and then I met you, and after that, you were all I could think about.”

  “Really? That’s so sweet.”

  “Of course, really.” He shifted away from her to free his arm.

  “Here, I’ll email you the image.” After he had sent it, he placed his arm around her shoulder, pulled her into him, and settled her back into the sofa. They settled back into the sofa. Penny gave him a warm smile, then turned her attention back to the image. “So perhaps this man she’s with was someone she was involved with when she worked at that other hotel, before she came here.”

  While they pondered that, two boisterous boys bounded into the lounge, followed by their parents. The man, carrying a laden tea tray, looked about for a place for them all to sit, and the woman just looked exhausted. The children jumped on two facing sofas, and the man set the tray down on the table between them. The woman then took care of pouring tea, buttering scones, handing everything round, and when she’d made sure that everyone else had something to eat and drink, she leaned her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. After a moment she rallied, picked up a cup, and took a sip of tea.

  “She looks as if she could do with a relaxing massage or a bit of pampering in your Spa,” remarked Colin, “while dad looks after the kids.”

  “She could do with a nap first, I think,” said Penny. She stiffened and then sat up.

  “You’ve just given me an idea, and I don’t know why we never thought of this before. There’s a great business opportunity here. I need to speak to the manager.” She stood up. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

  “If I’m not here, I’ll be in the bar.”

  “Good idea. I’ll see you there.”

  * * *

  “Well?” Colin asked half an hour later as a smiling Penny slid into the chair beside him. The bar was almost empty.

  “I talked to the manager,” Penny said, “and he’s interested in the idea of our operating a capsule spa in the hotel, so I’ve sent his details to Victoria, and she’ll follow up and get things rolling.”

  “Well, that sounds good.” He gestured at the glass of white wine at Penny’s place. “I got that for you. Hope it’s what you wanted.”

  Penny picked it up. “It’s perfect, thank you. But listen, as soon as I saw the manager just now, I realized he looked a bit like the man in that photo with Sarah. I just saw him briefly here in the bar on the Friday night when he offered to take over from Sarah, so maybe that’s why I thought he looked familiar. He looks older now, though, so it’s hard to say, and I can’t be sure.”

  “I don’t suppose you mentioned the photo to him?”

  “I didn’t get a chance. I wanted to get to the business about the Spa service in the hotel. And besides, I wouldn’t have been sure what to ask or how to position it. When you think about it, it’s strange displaying a photo of you with your boss in your home. I mean, I’m Eirlys’s boss, and I’d be shocked if she put up a photo of the two of us.”

  Colin laughed. “Thinking about some of the idiots I’ve worked for, you’re right. The last thing I’d have in my dining room would be a photo of some guy I worked with. But maybe he was more to her than just her boss.”

  “An office romance, you mean?” She thought for a moment. “Could be. He’s the manager here at the hotel, and she reports to him now, but back then they could have been just colleagues. Of course there could be a perfectly innocent reason why she’d have a framed photo of him in her home. If it really is him. I’m not sure that it is.”

  Colin took a sip of beer as he contemplated young Llifon behind the bar drying glasses and putting them away. “I wonder if he knows anything about the relationship between Sarah and the manager. If you’ve told me his name, I don’t remember it.”

  Penny took a business card out of her pocket and showed it to him. “Martin Hewitt, manager.” She tucked the card in her handbag. “And actually, Llifon did tell me something interesting about the two of them. I’d forgotten about it until just now.”

  “What was that?”


  “Llifon said that on the Thursday afternoon before the painting weekend, Sarah and Hewitt were in his office together, and then she came out looking upset. So much so that he—that’s Llifon—thought maybe she’d been fired.”

  “Oh, right. I remember your saying that now.”

  “I wonder what happened in there.”

  Colin glanced at Llifon, who was engrossed in his phone. “He doesn’t seem terribly busy, so now might be a good time to speak to him. He might have heard something since you last spoke to him.”

  “Let me think. I need to find a way into that conversation that he won’t find alarming or that will shut him down.”

  “Maybe mention that you’ve spoken to Hewitt about opening a spa service here?”

  A moment later Penny was at the bar. Llifon glanced up and placed his phone on a shelf, out of sight.

  “Hi Llifon. Could I have a packet of crisps, please?”

  “Yeah, sure. What flavour?”

  “Oh, just the regular lightly salted kind, please.”

  Penny accepted the packet and handed Llifon a coin. As he stepped toward the cash register to ring in the sale, she walked along her side of the bar to keep even with him and said, “I just had a brief chat with Martin Hewitt about the possibility of my partner and me opening a spa service in the hotel.”

  “A spa service? For the ladies, like? Cool.”

  “Yes, we think it could prove really popular. But now, there’s just something bothering me. It’s probably nothing, but when you and I spoke earlier, you mentioned that Sarah looked upset when she left the meeting with Martin Hewitt on the Thursday afternoon before the painting weekend. Naturally, if we’re going to be doing business with the hotel, I just wondered if everything’s okay here, and if you’d heard anything more about what happened during that meeting.”

  Llifon frowned and sucked in his breath. “Something’s going on, that’s for sure. The food and beverage manager told the staff that the auditors are coming in early next week but that we shouldn’t worry about it, we should just keep doing our jobs. But I don’t know if that had anything to do with what happened between Sarah and Mr. Hewitt.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, it’s probably just routine.”

  She returned to Colin and set the bag of crisps on the table. “Well?” he said.

  “An audit’s going to take place next week, and it doesn’t sound as if it was planned. I wonder if some irregularities have been discovered and that’s why Sarah looked so upset when she left the manager’s office that Thursday.”

  “But that was weeks ago. Believe me, at the slightest whiff of any financial impropriety, any employee suspected of wrongdoing would have been on immediate leave, and the auditors would have been on the doorstep first thing the next morning.”

  “Well, that couldn’t have been what upset her, then.”

  They sipped their drinks, and then Colin said, “There’s a sunrise boat cruise around Puffin Island, and I wondered if you’d like to do that. It would mean getting up early, but if the weather’s fine, the views should be spectacular, and they serve coffee and a continental breakfast on board.”

  “That sounds like fun. Let’s do it.”

  * * *

  The next morning, just as the stars were fading and the blackness of night was giving way to the deep blues that signalled the coming dawn, the night porter unlocked the hotel’s back door, and Penny and Colin slipped out into the quiet, empty street.

  At the sound of a light humming, swooshing noise, they turned to see a milkman making his early morning deliveries in an electric-powered vehicle. He glided past them and then slowed to a stop at one of the units in the Georgian terrace. The glass bottles in the metal rack he carried made a gentle clinking sound as he crossed the road, deposited two full bottles on a doorstep, picked up two empty bottles, returned to his vehicle, and with a friendly little wave as he passed Penny and Colin, continued on his round.

  “I didn’t know home milk delivery is still a thing,” Colin said. “I thought that service disappeared years ago, when people started shopping at supermarkets.”

  “It’s making a comeback here,” Penny replied. “There’s a real nostalgic appeal to it. Plus, the glass bottles are recyclable, and some people are willing to pay a bit more to avoid plastic. Some shops even have milk stations where you fill the bottles yourself.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Penny, Colin. Welcome! Do come in,” said Mrs. Lloyd on Monday evening as she threw open the door of her home on Rosemary Lane. “A few of our friends are already here, so please, go on through.”

  They entered the sitting room to find the rector offering glasses of wine to Penny’s friends and neighbours, and a moment later Florence appeared with a plate of cheese straws and warm, puffy mini quiches.

  “Please, let me pass these around,” Colin said to Florence, holding out his hands. “It’ll make me very popular with everyone.”

  Florence handed over the plate, and with Penny at his side, introducing him, they circled the room. When the last cheese straw had been snapped up, he set the plate down and was immediately approached by the Rev. Thomas Evans, who was taking a break from his wine-pouring duties. As the two struck up a lively conversation about the joys of birdwatching, Penny spotted her painting partner, Alwynne Gwilt, across the room and joined her.

  Just as she was about to describe the most interesting aspect of the boat ride around Puffin Island, Detective Inspector Bethan Morgan appeared in the doorway. Her turquoise trousers paired with a bright pink jacket, loose hair, and red lipstick indicated she was off duty.

  Nevertheless, all heads turned in the policewoman’s direction, and as conversation stilled, she and Penny locked eyes.

  “Excuse me, Alwynne,” Penny said. “I get the feeling Bethan wants a word with me.”

  The conversation in the room resumed as Penny made her way over to Bethan, who remained just inside the doorway.

  “How’s it going?” Penny greeted her.

  “Good, good. Are you enjoying the party?”

  “Oh yes. You haven’t met Colin yet, have you? Come and let me introduce you.”

  “In a minute. Okay if we just have a quick word first?” She ducked into the hallway and indicated that Penny should follow her. “It’s about Jessica Graham. Something’s not quite right and it’s bothering me. We found a suitcase in her room, just as you’d expect, and we’ve examined the contents. But I would also expect a journalist on foreign assignment to have another bag with work materials in it. Notebooks, photocopies, research documents, maybe a file or two, newspaper cuttings and definitely a laptop. Important stuff. But we didn’t find anything like that in her room or anywhere near where her body was found. And believe me, we searched the area near the lighthouse thoroughly, looking for it.”

  “She did have that,” said Penny. “When Colin and I spoke to her on the Friday evening in the bar, she had a backpack. A black one. She leaned it against the wall, and she was most particular to tuck the straps out of the way. The bar was full, and I guess she did that to prevent anyone tripping over them. I thought that was considerate of her. And she kept her business cards in a side pocket.”

  “Ah. That would be it, then. I knew there had to be a bag like that. And her passport was probably in it, too, because it wasn’t in her room, and that’s usually the one thing travellers are careful to keep safe.”

  “Maybe she had the backpack with her when she … I don’t even know how to put this into words,” said Penny. “I can’t bring myself to say ‘when she fell off the cliff’ because I’m having a hard time accepting that she did fall. I think something more sinister happened.”

  “I know you think that,” said Bethan, “but we haven’t got anything to support that theory.”

  “Something about where the body was lying when I found it just wasn’t right. It wasn’t where I would have expected it to be if she’d fallen, but then as Colin and
I discussed, it’s possible the tide could have moved it further out.”

  After a pause, Bethan replied. “If there’s nothing to indicate something sinister happened, I can’t allow myself to speculate. Speculation and conjecture just mean guessing. I have to be precise and exact, and go where the evidence leads. And so far we haven’t been able to turn up anything to show that Jessica Graham’s death was anything other than a tragic accident. The forensics and the postmortem both point to that.”

  “Then apparently my weakness is guess work. I tend to leap to conclusions.”

  “Look, Penny, here’s the thing. We’ve spoken to her work colleagues and her family, and there’s nothing to suggest that she had any reason or was in a state of mind to take her own life. So we can rule that out.”

  “We can agree on that,” said Penny. “When Colin and I spoke to her on Friday night, she was positively fizzing with excitement and looking forward enormously to working on stories.”

  “So that leaves either accident or murder. And if you’re talking about murder, it’s not like there was a long list of people who knew her and hated her and wanted her dead. There wasn’t even a short list. How could there have been? She’d only just arrived in the country, and she didn’t know anybody. So I’m really stretched to think of a motive.”

  Bethan glanced through the doorway at the guests in the sitting room, and when Penny did not reply, she continued. “Right. So we have to go with the pathologist’s finding that her death was accidental, unless we can find some evidence that would open up a new line of inquiry.”