A Cornish Revenge (The Loveday Ross Cornish Mysteries Book 1) by Rena George

fridge and slumping down in front of the TV. Suddenly the thought appalled him. He restarted the car’s engine and turned, driving out of the village.
     
    It was dark as he turned down into Marazion. The entrance to the Trevillicks’ place was concealed, but he’d been here before and knew to watch for the high stone pillars that flanked the entrance to their drive. The cottage was tiny in comparison to the main house, and he pulled alongside Loveday’s white Clio. The sounds of squealing children drifted across from the big house and he stopped to listen. Bath time…he remembered nights like this. Seemed like a lifetime ago now.
      Loveday never closed her sitting room curtains. It was comforting to see the lights of Penzance and Newlyn twinkling across the water. So she had spotted the low sweep of the car’s headlights as it swung into the drive, and had the door open before Sam even lifted his hand to knock.
      ‘Inspector…we meet again.’
      ‘I’ve brought your card back,’ he said, more gruffly than he had intended.
      He could have trusted this to even his most junior recruit. She sighed…so there was to be more questioning. She wondered if the rest of the witnesses were receiving the same attention. Perhaps he suspected her…or maybe DI Sam Kitto just didn’t trust journalists and he was here to warn her not to sell her story to one of the tabloids? Yes, that was probably it, she thought.
      She stood back to allow his tall frame to pass and the soft tweed of his jacket brushed against her arm. It immediately reminded her again of the Harris Tweed jacket her father wore for his fishing days. It was his lucky jacket, he’d told them all, laughing, because when he wore it, no salmon could resist swallowing his hook.
      Loveday had lit the fire when she got in earlier and Sam went straight to it, warming his hands at the flame. The room suddenly looked crowded.
      He made no attempt to hand over the card. She’d turned on the lamps and the room was cosy. She caught him glancing at her half-empty glass.
      ‘I’m sorry. Would you like a drink?’ She thought of offering him tea or coffee but that would have been childish. ‘Only Chardonnay, I’m afraid.’ Was that a smile?
    ‘That would be very acceptable,’ he said.
      Loveday went to the kitchen and returned with the bottle and another glass, which she filled and handed to him before replenishing her own.  He was still on his feet and she gestured towards the sofa as she settled into her own chair with her feet tucked under her.
      ‘Nice cottage,’ he said, looking around him. ‘How long have you been here?’
      Her eyes searched the ceiling. ‘Three years. I rented the place from Cassie and Adam, next door, when I got the job on the magazine.’
      He was on the point of asking why a career woman like her hadn’t taken a flat in Truro, but then in these surroundings, and dressed in those jeans and thick white sweater, the career image didn’t really suit her. She was watching him, so he sat down, placing his glass carefully on the small table beside him. ‘It’s not an interview,’ he said. ‘Sorry if it came across like that.’
      Loveday raised an eyebrow and Sam realised she was waiting for some other explanation for his visit. He fumbled in his jacket pocket and produced a small brown envelope. ‘Your card,’ he said, offering it across.
      Loveday reached out to accept it. ‘Any use?’ she asked.
      ‘We haven’t analysed the pictures yet.’
      Still the policeman, she thought, and giving away nothing. They sipped their drinks in silence for a few minutes then DI Kitto said, ‘It must have been a terrible shock…coming across a sight like that.’
      He saw Loveday’s fingers tighten around her glass. She was back on the cliffs and staring down into …horror. She gave a sudden shudder.    ‘How could anybody be so cruel?’
      ‘You’d be surprised just how nasty some characters can