Trish said. ‘No wonder she could afford the rent on that house.’
‘I bet trade’s not so good in winter though,’ the DCI replied, looking round for any sign of a jewellery shop,possibly one that was closed up because its owner was lying in the mortuary at Morbay Hospital.
‘I’ve counted five jewellery places so far. All of them open for business.’
‘She might have an assistant or a business partner. We’ll have to visit them all.’ Gerry rooted in his trouser pocket and
drew out his warrant card.
At the fourth shop they tried, Trish knew they had found the right place because the jewellery on display bore a strong resemblance
to the stuff they’d found at Lister Cottage. She gave the boss a nudge and they steamed in past a pair of women who appeared
to be deciding between two almost identical silver bracelets. A stick-thin, middle-aged woman was watching them, arms folded
as though she suspected they were intent on foul play. Trish imagined they’d have a lot of trouble with shoplifters – especially
with the prices they charged.
When the woman spotted Gerry, she fixed him with a stare as though she regarded him as a hostile invader. Even when he held
up his warrant card for her to examine and whispered that he’d like a word – nothing to worry about; just routine – she gave
him a look that would curdle milk.
After calling across to a girl leaning on the counter in the shop next door to ask her to keep an eye on things, she took
the newcomers to one side. She stood next to the glittering display on the back wall, her eyes flickering towards the precious
items on show.
‘Do you own this shop?’ Gerry began.
‘Yes. Why?’
Gerry nodded to Trish who took out her notebook.
‘What’s your name, love?’
‘Sylvia Cartland.’
Trish caught Gerry’s eye. ‘We’ve been trying to get hold of you,’ she said.
The woman scowled. ‘Is this about those shoplifters we had last week? Because if it is, you’ve taken your time—’
‘It’s not about shoplifting. We want to talk to you because you provided a reference for a Tessa Trencham. We think Ms Trencham
might own one of these units.’
Suddenly Sylvia expression changed. ‘Tessa’s my business partner. Why? What’s this about?’
Trish saw Gerry assume the sympathetic look of one who’s about to break bad news. He had brought the rings the dead woman
was wearing with him in a plastic evidence bag, along with the jewellery found in the dressing table. When he took the bag
from his jacket pocket he handed it to Sylvia. ‘Do you recognise these items?’
As she examined them it was hard to read her thoughts. After a few seconds she handed it back to him. ‘Yes. They’re all ours.
But unless a customer’s paid by cheque or credit card—’
‘Does Tessa Trencham own jewellery like this?’
‘She makes it, so it’s hardly surprising that she wears it.’
He fished the E-fit picture of the dead woman out of his pocket and thrust it into Sylvia’s unwilling hand. ‘Could this be
Tessa?’
She gave a snort of derision. ‘It could be, but on the other hand it could be anybody. Why are you asking all these questions?’
‘Yesterday a woman was found dead at Tessa’s address. She’s not been formally identified yet but we think it may be her. I’m
sorry.’
To Trish’s amazement a smile appeared on the woman’s face; a smile with a hint of triumph, as thoughshe had access to secret knowledge which was beyond their reach.
‘You’ve made a mistake, Chief Inspector. Tessa’s staying in France for a while and I assure you she’s fine. She warned me
that she intended to leave her phone switched off while she was over there because she didn’t want any interruptions while
she was working on her new designs. She’s the creative one in our partnership, you see. But she popped into a nearby town
to stock up on supplies and called me just to make sure everything was all right at this
‘I bet trade’s not so good in winter though,’ the DCI replied, looking round for any sign of a jewellery shop,possibly one that was closed up because its owner was lying in the mortuary at Morbay Hospital.
‘I’ve counted five jewellery places so far. All of them open for business.’
‘She might have an assistant or a business partner. We’ll have to visit them all.’ Gerry rooted in his trouser pocket and
drew out his warrant card.
At the fourth shop they tried, Trish knew they had found the right place because the jewellery on display bore a strong resemblance
to the stuff they’d found at Lister Cottage. She gave the boss a nudge and they steamed in past a pair of women who appeared
to be deciding between two almost identical silver bracelets. A stick-thin, middle-aged woman was watching them, arms folded
as though she suspected they were intent on foul play. Trish imagined they’d have a lot of trouble with shoplifters – especially
with the prices they charged.
When the woman spotted Gerry, she fixed him with a stare as though she regarded him as a hostile invader. Even when he held
up his warrant card for her to examine and whispered that he’d like a word – nothing to worry about; just routine – she gave
him a look that would curdle milk.
After calling across to a girl leaning on the counter in the shop next door to ask her to keep an eye on things, she took
the newcomers to one side. She stood next to the glittering display on the back wall, her eyes flickering towards the precious
items on show.
‘Do you own this shop?’ Gerry began.
‘Yes. Why?’
Gerry nodded to Trish who took out her notebook.
‘What’s your name, love?’
‘Sylvia Cartland.’
Trish caught Gerry’s eye. ‘We’ve been trying to get hold of you,’ she said.
The woman scowled. ‘Is this about those shoplifters we had last week? Because if it is, you’ve taken your time—’
‘It’s not about shoplifting. We want to talk to you because you provided a reference for a Tessa Trencham. We think Ms Trencham
might own one of these units.’
Suddenly Sylvia expression changed. ‘Tessa’s my business partner. Why? What’s this about?’
Trish saw Gerry assume the sympathetic look of one who’s about to break bad news. He had brought the rings the dead woman
was wearing with him in a plastic evidence bag, along with the jewellery found in the dressing table. When he took the bag
from his jacket pocket he handed it to Sylvia. ‘Do you recognise these items?’
As she examined them it was hard to read her thoughts. After a few seconds she handed it back to him. ‘Yes. They’re all ours.
But unless a customer’s paid by cheque or credit card—’
‘Does Tessa Trencham own jewellery like this?’
‘She makes it, so it’s hardly surprising that she wears it.’
He fished the E-fit picture of the dead woman out of his pocket and thrust it into Sylvia’s unwilling hand. ‘Could this be
Tessa?’
She gave a snort of derision. ‘It could be, but on the other hand it could be anybody. Why are you asking all these questions?’
‘Yesterday a woman was found dead at Tessa’s address. She’s not been formally identified yet but we think it may be her. I’m
sorry.’
To Trish’s amazement a smile appeared on the woman’s face; a smile with a hint of triumph, as thoughshe had access to secret knowledge which was beyond their reach.
‘You’ve made a mistake, Chief Inspector. Tessa’s staying in France for a while and I assure you she’s fine. She warned me
that she intended to leave her phone switched off while she was over there because she didn’t want any interruptions while
she was working on her new designs. She’s the creative one in our partnership, you see. But she popped into a nearby town
to stock up on supplies and called me just to make sure everything was all right at this
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