Sad Pelican: The Padstow murders - an absorbing, disturbing crime thriller. (DI Treloar Cornish Crime Thrillers Book 4) by Kent L A

Author:Kent, L A [Kent, L A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WillowOrchard Publishing
Published: 2021-06-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Two

One of Treloar’s first actions had been to request a trace on Viola’s mobile phone. Unfortunately there was nothing, and the digital forensics team concluded that it was switched off with the SIM card removed. As he talked to the students at Strandloper a thought came to him. Treloar was no techie, but he knew a man who was. He excused himself and went outside to the boardwalk to make a call.

‘Jamie, an eighteen year old girl has been reported missing and my guys tell me they cannot get a fix on her phone’s location, they can’t see it.’

Treloar had met Jamie Deverell when investigating the Porthaven murders some years previously. The young man had gone from suspect to resource - some would say accomplice - and the two had worked together on several cases, albeit unofficially. Jamie and his partner Alasdair Frobisher ran a highly successful tech business from Jamie’s home, Linton Crucis Abbey, in the New Forest. Jamie had grown up at the 13 th Century abbey, which had become a private residence at the Dissolution of the Monasteries under Henry VIII, his single mother being the housekeeper to its wealthy reclusive owner. When he died and the abbey and its land were bequeathed to Jamie, there had been much speculation over the boy’s paternity. Treloar could not imagine a more accomplished technical resource existed.

‘What’s the number? Text it to me and give me ten minutes.’

Treloar sent the text and waited on the boardwalk. In seven minutes Jamie called back.

‘Whoah man who is this girl? She must have some amazing contacts. This phone has GPS tracking that is seriously sneaky US agency stuff; CIA, NSA, or some A we’ve probably never heard of. Wow!’

‘Can you see it?’

‘Oh yeah. I can give you its exact coordinates and even its altitude. I’ll text them. But from what I can see, it’s on the ground floor of some small derelict building just south and west of a place called Port Quin on the cliff edge, it’s stationary and has been for almost six hours.’

‘Jamie you are a true star.’

Yeah, well you’d better not say you got this from me or I’ll be fighting extradition.’

‘No worries. I’ll say it was an anonymous tip off. In fact,’ he looked at a noticeboard behind him next to the entrance where he found a menu with Strandloper’s address and telephone number, ‘call this number from an untraceable line in five minutes and ask for me. Then when I come on the line just play along.’

‘Better still, I’ll call you from a public phone box near your present location.’

‘I won’t even ask.’

‘You wouldn’t understand the answer.’

As Treloar made his way back through the busy tables, a strident Australian voice boomed out from behind the bar.

‘Hey guys!! Is there a Treloar in the house?? Wanted on the phone!’

Treloar diverted to the bar, identified himself to the barman and took the cordless phone.

‘Hello? This is Detective Chief Inspector Treloar. Who is this calling?’

‘Hi Phil,’ said Jamie.

‘What? Who

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