Betrayed in Cornwall by Janie Bolitho

tea and placed them on the table, watching as Douggie heaped sugar into his cup. ‘You wanted to see me?’
    Douggie grinned. ‘You didn’t come over just to pay for my tea. Well, it’s like this. I overheard a bit of talk in the pub last night. Nothing definite, mind, and I only picked up bits of it, but it sounded as if there might be a boat coming in carrying more than a quota of fish.’
    ‘I see. And the name of this boat?’
    Douggie shrugged. ‘No idea.’
    ‘Trawler or yacht?’
    Douggie shrugged again. ‘Like I said, I didn’t get all of it. They were whispering, see. Now you know fishermen, when they’re talking fish or boats, what they’re saying is no secret. This pair were keeping it quiet.’
    ‘Fishermen?’
    ‘Nope. Never seen them before. But one of them, the younger one, looked scared.’
    ‘Any idea of time?’
    ‘Well, I heard the word Tuesday, but that could have beenreferring to anything. I couldn’t get hold of you last night and I certainly wasn’t going to leave a message.’
    ‘No, I was busy. Anything else you can recall?’
    ‘Nope. Just that.’
    Jack sipped his cooling tea. Why would anyone discuss such a thing within earshot? He sighed. Probably Douggie had got it all wrong. Still, he would pass on the information and leave it at that. Now and then what Douggie told him had some basis of truth and he had been helpful on several occasions when his information had led to arrests, but this sounded weird. If something big was going on, two strangers would not be stupid enough to discuss it in a local pub.
    And if Douggie was right, and it was a big if, why Cornwall? The answer was obvious. There were enough coves and small bays from which a small boat could put out undetected and collect whatever was aboard a trawler before it landed. Jack slipped a note across the table. Douggie pocketed it without looking at it and without thanking him either and went back to scratching his head.
    Jack left the café wondering if his informant had head lice.
    Traffic had eased and the drive back was more pleasant. Nothing Douggie ever told him could be taken lightly but it was hard to imagine that this particular offering would amount to much. However, it was his duty to inform the relevant agencies: the drugs squad and the Joint Intelligence Cell in Plymouth. He picked up the car phone. And later I’ll speak to Rose, he thought, feeling more optimistic at the idea.
    Customs and Excise and the police worked in tandem to form the Joint Intelligence Cell. Although drugs were one of their concerns they were also on the look-out for smuggled tobacco and spirits. But the list of illegal goods was greater than that. There was pornography, clothes and accessories made from endangered species, rare plants and exotic birds, reptiles and animals. Ports and airports were watched and random checks made but the trade still went on. Passengers who made short trips on local airlines were closely watched. Smugglers did not stay out of the country for more than a day or so at a time. The fight went on but the officers involvedknew that even if they had a tip-off and stood arm in arm along the coastline of the three counties they policed a smuggler was just as likely to come in by plane, fly right over their heads and drop the stuff in a field without even having to land. But a tip-off from a police officer of Pearce’s rank certainly had to be taken seriously. They told him they would look out for any vessel unknown to them or behaving suspiciously.
    Jack chatted with the operations controller for several minutes then hung up. Only later did he wonder if what he had heard had any bearing on the death of Joe Chynoweth.

5
    For months Rose had anticipated, with pleasure, the opening night of her exhibition, a highlight of her life which had been ahead of her, but she had not anticipated the anticlimax which followed on Saturday morning. One day there’ll be others, she told herself. Maybe even in London. One