touch. You’ve been incommunicado all day.”
“OK. I’ll do that.”
“I want to know who did this.”
“So do I, actually.”
“You could try putting the squeeze on a former employee of mine, now I come to think about it.” Barney’s tone had softened considerably. “Name of Ray Trathen.”
“I met Ray at Heartsease on Saturday.”
“You did?”
“He certainly bears you a grudge.”
“You can’t believe a word he says.”
“I don’t. But there
was
a diving accident in August 1999, wasn’t there?”
Barney groaned audibly. “Is Ray still going on about that?”
“Oh yes.”
“I guess I should have warned you.”
“Maybe you should.”
“All right.” There was silence for a moment, then Barney resumed, almost contritely. “I’m sorry Tim. By rights, it ought to be me sorting this out, not you. But as it is… you’d be doing me a big favour if you… gave it a go.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
Harding congratulated himself on how he had handled Barney, who was back now where Harding needed to have him: in his debt. It was a fragile advantage, though, with Harding’s phone-and Carol’s incriminating message-in Darren Spargo’s possession. He could not afford to rest on his laurels.
Nor could he spare the time to visit Humphrey. A phone call would have to suffice.
“You’ve resurfaced, have you?” was the elder Tozer’s less than genial conversation-opener.
“Barney’s asked me to look into the theft of the ring.”
“Has he now?”
“Do you have any idea who might have taken it?”
“No. I don’t.”
“I imagine… the news came as a nasty shock to you.”
“It did. Though perhaps it shouldn’t have.”
“Sorry?”
“I ask Barney to send me money. Instead he sends me you. I ask him to help me retrieve something Uncle Gabriel stole from us. Instead, what happens? It gets stolen all over again.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the ring’s further out of our reach than ever. And I don’t think you’re capable of doing anything about it.”
Humphrey Tozer’s vote of no confidence mattered little to Harding. The theft of the ring meant his business in Penzance would not be concluded at tomorrow’s auction. It had, in fact, given him more time to probe the mystery of Hayley’s resemblance to Kerry Foxton and his sense of a previous connection with one or both of them. Perversely he was almost grateful for the opportunity it had handed him. But he had to tread carefully. With Spargo on the loose, he was in a vulnerable position. Finding Spargo, indeed, was far more important to his welfare than laying hands on the Heartsease thief. He set off into the Penzance evening knowing that had to be his first objective.
He found Ray Trathen
in situ
at the bar of the Turk’s Head, unaware, as far as he could judge, of the burglary at Heartsease.
“Still here, then?” Trathen greeted him, woozily cocking one eyebrow.
“I’ve just got back from St. Mary’s.”
“What took you there?”
“John Metherell.”
“Oh yeah?”
“The video, Ray. I’ve seen it.”
“What did you make if it?”
“I saw no evidence of murder. Not a shred.”
“There’s none so blind…”
“I wasn’t blind to one thing. Kerry Foxton and Hayley Winter. They’re so alike.”
“I didn’t know you’d met Hayley.”
“Briefly yes.”
“Well, you’re right. She looks a lot like Kerry.”
“How do you account for that?”
“I don’t.”
“It must have struck you as odd.”
“Yeah, well, Gabriel Tozer was an odd man.”
“You think he chose her specially?”
“Wouldn’t put it past him.”
“But she came down from London of her own volition. He couldn’t have-”
“Review her CV during this ‘brief’ meeting, did you?”
Harding took a deep breath. “I happened to ask what had brought her to Penzance.”
“And you believed her explanation?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because of how close in
“OK. I’ll do that.”
“I want to know who did this.”
“So do I, actually.”
“You could try putting the squeeze on a former employee of mine, now I come to think about it.” Barney’s tone had softened considerably. “Name of Ray Trathen.”
“I met Ray at Heartsease on Saturday.”
“You did?”
“He certainly bears you a grudge.”
“You can’t believe a word he says.”
“I don’t. But there
was
a diving accident in August 1999, wasn’t there?”
Barney groaned audibly. “Is Ray still going on about that?”
“Oh yes.”
“I guess I should have warned you.”
“Maybe you should.”
“All right.” There was silence for a moment, then Barney resumed, almost contritely. “I’m sorry Tim. By rights, it ought to be me sorting this out, not you. But as it is… you’d be doing me a big favour if you… gave it a go.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
Harding congratulated himself on how he had handled Barney, who was back now where Harding needed to have him: in his debt. It was a fragile advantage, though, with Harding’s phone-and Carol’s incriminating message-in Darren Spargo’s possession. He could not afford to rest on his laurels.
Nor could he spare the time to visit Humphrey. A phone call would have to suffice.
“You’ve resurfaced, have you?” was the elder Tozer’s less than genial conversation-opener.
“Barney’s asked me to look into the theft of the ring.”
“Has he now?”
“Do you have any idea who might have taken it?”
“No. I don’t.”
“I imagine… the news came as a nasty shock to you.”
“It did. Though perhaps it shouldn’t have.”
“Sorry?”
“I ask Barney to send me money. Instead he sends me you. I ask him to help me retrieve something Uncle Gabriel stole from us. Instead, what happens? It gets stolen all over again.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the ring’s further out of our reach than ever. And I don’t think you’re capable of doing anything about it.”
Humphrey Tozer’s vote of no confidence mattered little to Harding. The theft of the ring meant his business in Penzance would not be concluded at tomorrow’s auction. It had, in fact, given him more time to probe the mystery of Hayley’s resemblance to Kerry Foxton and his sense of a previous connection with one or both of them. Perversely he was almost grateful for the opportunity it had handed him. But he had to tread carefully. With Spargo on the loose, he was in a vulnerable position. Finding Spargo, indeed, was far more important to his welfare than laying hands on the Heartsease thief. He set off into the Penzance evening knowing that had to be his first objective.
He found Ray Trathen
in situ
at the bar of the Turk’s Head, unaware, as far as he could judge, of the burglary at Heartsease.
“Still here, then?” Trathen greeted him, woozily cocking one eyebrow.
“I’ve just got back from St. Mary’s.”
“What took you there?”
“John Metherell.”
“Oh yeah?”
“The video, Ray. I’ve seen it.”
“What did you make if it?”
“I saw no evidence of murder. Not a shred.”
“There’s none so blind…”
“I wasn’t blind to one thing. Kerry Foxton and Hayley Winter. They’re so alike.”
“I didn’t know you’d met Hayley.”
“Briefly yes.”
“Well, you’re right. She looks a lot like Kerry.”
“How do you account for that?”
“I don’t.”
“It must have struck you as odd.”
“Yeah, well, Gabriel Tozer was an odd man.”
“You think he chose her specially?”
“Wouldn’t put it past him.”
“But she came down from London of her own volition. He couldn’t have-”
“Review her CV during this ‘brief’ meeting, did you?”
Harding took a deep breath. “I happened to ask what had brought her to Penzance.”
“And you believed her explanation?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because of how close in
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