Ottercombe Bay – Part Two: Gin and Trouble

Copyright

Published by Avon an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street,

London, SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018

Copyright © Bella Osborne 2018

Cover illustration © Kim Leo

Cover design © Head Design 2018

Bella Osborne asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008258153

Ebook Edition © February 2018 ISBN: 9780008258122

Version 2018-05-04

For my mum – thank you.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Bella Osborne

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Daisy whipped open the bedroom curtains, almost expecting to see someone standing there, but all she saw was the strip of front garden and her old motorbike. What had happened? She scanned the bedside cabinet again, still in disbelief that her precious locket could have been taken. Daisy ran upstairs.

‘Um, Aunt Coral, are you awake?’ she asked hesitantly at her aunt’s bedroom door.

‘Yes, love,’ came the answer from the bathroom behind her making her jump.

‘Have you seen my locket?’ Daisy asked the bathroom door.

‘The book-shaped one you always wear?’

‘Yes,’ Daisy said, rolling her hands over and over in front of her as if trying to hurry Aunt Coral along.

‘Then yes I’ve seen it.’

Daisy felt elated as the relief washed over her. Aunt Coral opened the bathroom door and Daisy was tempted to hug her but she was brushing her teeth.

‘Where is it?’

Aunt Coral looked blank. ‘Last time I saw it you were wearing it. Have you mislaid it?’

‘No,’ said Daisy shaking her head and looking desolate. The awful sense of loss reappeared immediately gripping her insides. ‘I put it on the bedside cabinet last night but this morning it’s not there. I think it’s been stolen.’

Jason arrived quickly with a colleague carrying what looked like a large briefcase. ‘Scene of crime officer,’ he explained. ‘We’ll check the whole house for any fingerprints, residue or material fragments.’

The SOCO coughed behind him. ‘Actually I’m just going to dust around the window frame for prints. It’s not a murder enquiry. Can you show me where to go?’

‘Of course, officer,’ said Aunt Coral, leading the way. ‘I’m afraid they’ve made quite a mess of the room,’ she said, opening the door and revealing the room in a total state of disarray. Daisy opened her mouth to speak, but paused. Was there any benefit in owning up to the fact she’d created the mess? It wasn’t going to make any difference to what had been stolen. Perhaps she’d tell Jason on the quiet later.

Jason strode in putting on latex gloves, making them ping at the cuffs. ‘My word, they have roughed the place up. What could they have been looking for?’ he said, picking up a discarded bra on his pencil and placing it on the unmade bed. Daisy cringed. Tidying up before they arrived would have been a good move, but she’d barely had time to get washed and dressed before they were banging on the front door. She guessed there wasn’t a lot of criminal activity in Ottercombe Bay. Jason whipped out his notebook and started scribbling. ‘And you were in here at the time? I guess they woke you up?’ He waved his pencil at the mess. Daisy bit her lip and gave a brief shake of her head. ‘Interesting,’ said Jason, continuing to scribble. ‘Did you see anyone? Hear anything?’ Daisy shook her head again. Perhaps honesty would have been the best policy, she thought. ‘Where were the items taken from exactly?’

‘On here,’ said Daisy, pointing at the bedside cabinet.

Jason stuck his head out of the window. ‘They must have taken them as a consolation prize when they didn’t find what they came for. If it was purely opportunist they could have just reached through the window and taken them off the cabinet as it’s right under the window.’

He was very good, thought Daisy, and she opened her mouth to explain but Aunt Coral was already speaking. ‘Would you like a coffee, boys?’ she asked.

‘Please, and a slice of your Vicky sponge if you have any?’ asked Jason. Daisy thought how unlike CSI it was as she left the embarrassing scene and went to join Aunt Coral in the kitchen.

An hour later the SOCO was long gone and Jason had moved on to sketching the locket as the only photos Daisy could find of herself wearing it wouldn’t zoom in with enough focus for the detail to be seen properly.

Daisy couldn’t believe it had gone. All these years it was the first thing she put on each morning and the last thing she took off at night. It had always been with her since her mother died. It was her comfort blanket and she felt bare and vulnerable without it. She kept putting her hand to her chest and every time she was shocked not to feel it under her fingers. She knew she would never get used to not wearing it.

‘I’m quite observant,’ said Jason. ‘Your locket was rectangular, wasn’t it?’ Daisy nodded. ‘Was it solid silver?’

‘Yes, there’s a funny symbol inside it.’

‘Did it have any other distinguishing features?’ asked Jason, his whole face alert. Daisy didn’t like him referring to her beloved possession in the past tense. She thought how odd it was that in her time of distress here he was in his element, doing the job he loved.

‘Is it likely I’ll get it back?’ she asked, the sorrow evident in her voice.

Jason paused, his pencil hovering. ‘We’ll do our best to recover your locket but I suspect whoever took it will be looking to sell quickly.’

‘Basically no chance then.’

Jason gave a weak smile and carried on sketching. ‘Does this look right?’ He turned the page around for Daisy to see the drawing better.

Daisy took the pencil from him. ‘The shape is right,’ she said. ‘But the pattern was different.’ She made an oval in the centre and started to sketch the scroll pattern within it. She knew the locket so well – she knew its smooth edges, its intricate patterned front and simple swirls on the reverse. She always knew it was immensely important to her, but was not prepared for the sense of loss she felt. The locket, like her mother, was irreplaceable.

After a few minutes Daisy noticed droplets splosh onto the picture and she stopped drawing. She was crying. Jason passed her a tissue. ‘I promise I’ll do absolutely everything I can to get it back.’

She nodded. Daisy feared if she tried to speak she’d end up sobbing and she and tears had an unhappy relationship. She always went blotchy and got a headache when she cried and she had done far too much of it in her lifetime.

After Jason eventually left she had barely shut the door when Tamsyn appeared on the other side. Daisy let her in and was immediately swamped by a bear hug.

‘This is sooo awful. To think hard end criminals have been in this house …’ Tamsyn paused. ‘I wonder why they call them that?’

‘It’s not hard end, it’s hardened, as in toughened by their experiences. Do you want a cuppa?’ Daisy sloped off to the kitchen and whilst she got cups out Tamsyn hovered in the doorway.

‘Actually …’ started Tamsyn and Daisy paused with the kettle under the tap. ‘Can I look at the crime scene?’

Daisy sighed. ‘Yeah, be my guest.’ Once again she was a point of local interest – a stop on the sightseeing tour of life, something to ogle and wonder at. Well, her bedroom was anyway. Daisy waited at the table and sipped her tea while Tamsyn’s slowly lost its heat.

Tamsyn came scuttling back and slid into her seat opposite Daisy. ‘They’ve made a right mess in there. What did they take?’

Daisy suspected she would get asked this quite a lot. ‘A few quid and my locket.’ She looked into her teacup.

‘The swines,’ said Tamsyn with feeling, then realisation seemed to permeate and her hands flew to her face. ‘Your mum’s locket?’ she asked, with a gasp.

Daisy flicked her eyebrows in response; she didn’t want to unlock the emotions bubbling uncomfortably below the surface. It was best if she tried not to think too much about it, although that was hard not to do. They sipped their tea in silence for a bit.

‘Right,’ said Tamsyn forcefully. ‘What you need is cheering up.’ Daisy wasn’t sure this was even worth attempting. ‘I know what we’ll do. We’ll go to the donkey sanctuary.’

Daisy felt herself physically slump. Wandering about looking at animals who were permanently miserable would do little to lift her mood. ‘I don’t think—’

‘I’m not taking no for an answer,’ said Tamsyn, standing up. ‘First of all, we’ll sort out your bedroom. Come on.’

‘It’s fine,’ said Daisy, but the words were said to an empty room. By the time she’d washed up the teacups and wandered through to her room Tamsyn was plumping the pillow and doing the final adjustments to her bed. The room looked perfect.

‘There. You’d never know they’d been in here.’ Daisy didn’t like to point out it was highly unlikely they had been in the room because everything on the bedside cabinet was reachable from the open window.

‘Thanks, Tams. This is kind of you.’ Daisy vowed to keep her room tidy from now on. She wasn’t sure how long it would last, but at least she’d try.

‘Right, let’s go,’ said Tamsyn with gusto. She linked arms with Daisy and marched her out of the house, giving her barely time to grab the house keys. ‘We can look out for Nesbit the eagle on the way. He’s been spotted in a back garden over that way. He frightened the life out of an old lady hanging out her washing.’

Thankfully it was a short drive in Tamsyn’s battered Nissan Micra. The car either had an issue with its steering or Tamsyn’s driving was a little on the erratic side. She seemed to stray over the white line on more than one occasion making their arrival in the car park a welcome relief.

On the walk to the entrance the sound of braying donkeys welcomed them. Tamsyn was looking excited even before she’d seen a donkey. Daisy was surprised to see it was free to enter and became intrigued by the map promising all manner of donkeys, a gift shop, a café and a variety of walks around the many donkey enclosures. Daisy decided that if she was to get through the next couple of hours she had better upgrade her attitude. She took a deep breath, slapped a smile on her face and followed Tamsyn through the gate. Her friend was trying to take her mind off things, the least she could do was try to look as if it was helping.

‘I love it here,’ said Tamsyn, her face one large grin. ‘It’s my happy place.’

The first couple of enclosures had some bored-looking donkeys on the other side of their paddock who had no intention of making the long walk across to say hello. Tamsyn read out the information on the small board and Daisy listened to the sad story of Bernard and Biscuit, two of many rescue donkeys now leading a happy life at the sanctuary. By the third enclosure Daisy was starting to feel a bit better about things, some of the poor animals had suffered terrible neglect and had bounced back and here she was making a fuss about a possession. Learning about the suffering of another was good at giving you perspective, even if it was a donkey.

They walked through some pretty gardens, past a children’s play area where the volume rose above a comfortable level and then it changed to near silence as they reached a tree-lined area where many benches were dotted about. Each bench had a neat shiny plaque and they stopped to read them, noting the increasingly tear-jerking dedications. She was glad to come to the end. A sign announced the Poitou donkey enclosure and Daisy found her mouth tweaking at the edges at the sight of the giant hairy donkeys. They were friendly and came to the fence to be fussed. She discovered scratching a donkey’s ears was quite calming. A large gingery donkey cantered over, announced his arrival with a loud bray and barged the others out of the way.

‘Steady on,’ said Daisy, checking the name on his collar. ‘Hiya Guinness.’ Guinness wobbled his large head and tried to eat Daisy’s shirtsleeve, which made her laugh.

‘You feeling better?’ asked Tamsyn tentatively.

Daisy gave her friend a half hug. ‘Yeah, I am. Thanks for getting me out of the cottage.’

‘It’s what friends do.’

‘Let’s get a coffee. It’s my treat,’ said Daisy, and they followed the signs to the café. They took their tray outside and settled themselves down with a view of some white donkeys being fed their lunch.

‘Are you working today?’ asked Daisy in between mouthfuls of heavily buttered teacake.

Tamsyn gave a heavy sigh. ‘Yeah, they want me in at one o’clock, but they may not need me past four when everyone starts leaving the beach. I can never be sure what I’m going to get paid. Dad hinted again last night that I should be thinking about leaving home but even with saving all I can I don’t stand a chance of being able to afford my own place. Especially not around here.’ She sighed again and sipped her latte. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t moan. Especially not after the day you’ve had.’

‘My day has got a whole lot better,’ said Daisy. ‘Thanks to you.’ Tamsyn gave a weak smile, which quickly changed into a huge grin.

‘I’m going to hand in my notice. I’m going to quit the beach café.’

‘Whoa there. Let’s not get hasty,’ said Daisy. She wasn’t the best source of advice but at least Tamsyn had a job, however crap it might be.

‘No, I should have done it years ago. If I quit then I have to get something better.’ She picked up her coffee to clink mugs with Daisy.

‘Or you could keep the beach café job whilst you look for something else,’ she suggested. ‘That way you still have some income.’ How did you tell someone you cared about that this was the worst idea ever?

‘Hmm,’ said Tamsyn, appearing to consider this.

Daisy stared on wide-eyed and fearful. ‘What’ll you do?’

Tamsyn slowly ran a finger across her eyebrow. ‘I might do reading …’

‘I don’t think anyone will pay you for that. Unless you mean like a book editor – I think that’s all they do all day.’

‘No, palm reading, silly.’

‘I didn’t know you were like your mum.’

‘I’m not sure I am but if I don’t try I won’t know.’ Tamsyn was still grinning, the obvious flaws in her plan clearly not obvious to her.

‘You should probably test out your skills first. Punters will be hacked off if it turns out you can’t tell them their future.’

Tamsyn appeared to ponder this. ‘Let me try on you,’ she said, taking Daisy’s hand.

Daisy looked about her quickly, what would other people think? It looked like Tamsyn was about to propose. ‘I think you’re meant to read it not hold it,’ pointed out Daisy, embarrassment stealing over her.

‘I’m seeing if I can sense a connection.’

A loose connection in Tamsyn’s head was all Daisy could think of. Tamsyn shut her eyes and gripped Daisy’s hand. Daisy acknowledged an elderly couple who went past shaking their heads. Daisy waited. ‘Anything?’

‘I’m not sure what I’m meant to be sensing.’

‘Usually people with a gift tell you something about yourself you don’t already know.’

‘How can I not know something I’m telling you? Makes no sense.’ Tamsyn looked confused.

‘If you have the gift. You tell me something I know but you don’t.’ Tamsyn opened her mouth looking as if a light bulb had just pinged on above her head. ‘And not something Reg told you,’ added Daisy quickly. Tamsyn’s face dropped. ‘Just relax and see if you can sense anything.’ Daisy offered Tamsyn her hand once more.

‘Okay, let’s try again.’

Tamsyn held Daisy’s right hand for a while. Daisy noticed her coffee was going cold so picked it up with her left hand, which felt odd and she clumsily put it to her lips.

‘A-ha!’ shouted Tamsyn her eyes snapping open.

Daisy slopped her drink down herself. ‘Cock,’ said Daisy and Tamsyn gave her an old-fashioned look making her feel she needed to amend her swearing. ‘Cock … a-doodle-doo?’ Tamsyn seemed happy with the alteration. ‘Did you sense something?’

‘Yes,’ said Tamsyn emphatically.

Daisy was preoccupied with wiping the spilled coffee off her top. ‘Okay, what was it?’

‘Teaspoons!’ said Tamsyn her voice triumphant.

Daisy stopped what she was doing and blinked. ‘What about teaspoons?’

Tamsyn straightened. ‘My mind was a complete blank …’ This did not surprise Daisy. ‘And then teaspoons popped into my head. Do you collect teaspoons?’ Daisy shook her head. ‘Hmm. Have a fear of teaspoons perhaps?’ Daisy shook her head again. ‘Do you even like teaspoons?’

‘Not especially,’ said Daisy, as the serviette she was using to mop up the coffee began disintegrating.

‘Ahh, but you don’t dislike them.’

‘No.’ This was possibly the oddest conversation she’d ever had.

‘There you go then.’ Tamsyn seemed pleased. ‘I think I might have something.’

‘It’s a bit of a cliché but seriously Tamsyn I don’t think you should give up the day job.’

‘O-kay.’ Tamsyn’s tone was sulky.

‘You need to plan what job you really want to do. What are all the things you love? Think of those and they may uncover a wonderful opportunity.’

‘I love buttons,’ said Tamsyn and Daisy bobbed her head enthusiastically whilst she tried desperately to think of an associated job.

In that moment Daisy realised she also wanted something more – to do something she loved and not just for the money. She was here until the end of June and she couldn’t spend her time doing nothing because then it would seem like a life sentence. In the back of her mind something Max had said started to germinate. Perhaps it was worth having a chat to the planning office about the railway building; it couldn’t do any harm.

Jason was sitting in the pub engrossed in a newspaper headline about a drugs raid in Exeter, not taking his eyes off the page as he sipped his half of shandy.

‘All right?’ Max pulled out the stool opposite noting Jason’s intense expression. This was the stuff of his dreams – a big police case.

Max was wearing his lifeguard’s uniform and his orange shorts strained when his muscled thighs flexed as he sat down. He put his pint down and looked across the table. It made Max smile that as well as the drugs raid, Nesbit the eagle’s safe return home had also made the local front page.

‘Have the shed arsons made it to the nationals yet?’ he joked.

‘Don’t ridicule it, it’s a serious crime, Max. Mr Patel’s shed was torched on Monday and his tortoise was burned alive.’ Jason’s face was sombre unlike Max who was already cracking up.

‘Toasted tortoise. It might become a delicacy,’ said Max, bringing his laughter under control.

‘He was very upset,’ said Jason, folding up his paper precisely and laying it on the table.

Max snatched up the paper and turned to the sports pages. ‘I hear you’ve got another big case to crack.’

‘Yes, a second burglary took place this morning.’ His eyes widened as he spoke.

‘Proper crime wave,’ said Max, with a smirk.

‘It could be the start of something. Perhaps organised crime.’ There was no mistaking the excitement in Jason’s voice.

‘Steady on,’ said Max, before taking a long slow drink. ‘Not likely in Ottercombe Bay though is it?’

Jason raised a finger. ‘Now, you say that but a place where you wouldn’t expect to find an underworld cell has to be the perfect place to hide one.’

Max couldn’t disagree with the logic, however unlikely it was in reality. It was hard to keep a straight face. He started to hum a melody.

Jason gave him a longsuffering look. ‘And you can stop with the Midsomer Murders theme tune as well.’

Max and Jason had always been mates – an odd combination of the once local troublemaker and the ultimate goody two shoes. They had diverse upbringings and therefore differing outlooks on life but their differences were what made them a good team. Max encouraged Jason to be brave, to step outside the rules occasionally and Jason tempered Max’s wayward streak.

Jason and Max were both from local families who could trace back their ancestry to multiple generations of Devon residents – but there the similarity ended. Jason had doting parents; a mother who worked part time and a father who was a coach driver and shared Jason’s love of trains. They were still very much in love after umpteen years of marriage and were immensely proud of their son, the policeman.

Max on the other hand had mainly been brought up by his mother who to all intents and purposes had been a single parent through his formative years because her husband had been in and out of prison as his petty crimes got bolder. She had finally moved to Scotland with a new boyfriend when Max was eighteen leaving him with his dad. His father had tried to stay on the right side of the law but it simply wasn’t profitable enough to support them both. Max turned a blind eye to his father’s antics until he tried to persuade him to join him on a criminal venture – that was the last time Max had spoken to his father.

Jason adjusted his jacket and leant forward a fraction. ‘Your dad must be due for release soon. Isn’t he?’ he asked, looking slightly embarrassed.

Max’s expression changed. ‘Not for another couple of months. Let’s not go pinning anything on him just yet.’

Chapter Two

Jason was turning out to be a useful person to know. As the local bobby, everyone knew him and therefore he had a wide network he could tap into, particularly as he had a colleague with an uncle working in the local planning department. After a warm-up phone call from Jason he was happy to meet Daisy for a chat. She had made an effort, steered clear of both espresso and Bug’s furry patch on the sofa, and she felt ready for her meeting.