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

be.’
      ‘I suppose you see this all the time, in your job.’
      Sam put down his glass. It had been nine months since his last murder case in Redruth, a drugs-related stabbing. They had caught their culprit the next day. ‘Thankfully we don’t have too many murders in Cornwall,’ he said, his face still grim from the memory of yesterday.
      Loveday was thoughtful. ‘It’s how the Cornish used to deal with those who betrayed them.’
      Sam was staring at her and she realised she had spoken her thoughts aloud.
      ‘Come again?’ His eyebrow had lifted. He was getting comfortable.
      She coloured, feeling foolish that she’d said what she had been thinking, but he was still staring at her waiting for an explanation.
      ‘It’s just something Cassie told me. There’s a pub along the coast where something similar is supposed to have happened years ago.’
    She repeated the story as he watched her with growing amusement. She pointed a warning finger. ‘Don’t you dare say it’s an old wives’ tale.’
      He grinned. ‘I would never be so disrespectful.’ …Well, not out loud anyway, he thought.
      ‘So you have a better explanation then as to how this poor man got there,’ Loveday said accusingly.
      ‘We’re still working on it,’ Sam said.
      ‘Do you at least know who he was?’ Loveday persisted. ‘I mean, was he local?’
      Sam’s look was non-committal. ‘We haven’t identified him yet.’
      He was the policeman again and Loveday realised her journalist training had unwittingly taken over. She was quizzing him…and DI Kitto was giving nothing away.
      They sipped their drinks in awkward silence for a few moments before Loveday said, ‘You really don’t trust journalists, do you, Inspector?’
      His brows knitted. ‘You really don’t trust policemen, do you Miss Ross?’
      Loveday couldn’t suppress her grin. She raised her glass. ‘Truce?’
      Sam did the same. It was the first time she had seen him properly smile and the effect surprised her.
      ‘Have you eaten?’ she asked, trying to remember what her fridge had to offer. ‘There won’t be much, but I could probably manage an omelette and a few bits of salad.’
      ‘No, I’m fine, thanks,’ he said abruptly, draining his glass as he stood up to leave.
      Loveday shrugged. Apparently an offer to share her supper had been a step out of line and he was putting her in her place by refusing. He really didn’t like journalists. He went out and she winced as he bumped his head again on the low lintel over the front door. She should have reminded him about that.
      ‘Thanks for bringing the card back,’ she called as he slid in behind the wheel of his car. She watched as the red taillights pulled away, and stayed watching as they moved along the drive and out towards the main road.
      Sam stopped to pick up fish and chips when he reached his home village. He ate them from the wrapping with a can of cold beer in front of the television – and imagined Loveday enjoying her omelette with another glass of Chardonnay.    
     
    Magdalene had been pacing the room, wondering if she dared ring Martin when the pictures of Borlase Cove flickered across the giant flat screen television that Paul had insisted placing above the fireplace. She cringed every time she saw it. An announcer was reading the local news headlines.
      ‘Police have still not identified the body of a man found in a cove in West Cornwall on Saturday.’
      She stopped, reaching for the remote and turned the sound up. ‘The body was discovered by tourists on a painting holiday in the area. Detective Inspector Sam Kitto of Devon and Cornwall Constabulary, who is leading the inquiry, said in a statement that the man was believed to be aged around 40, 5ft 11ins tall and of slight build with thinning ginger hair.’
      Magdalene stared at the screen and felt the bile rise in her throat. It was Paul! They had found her husband’s body!
    Her