‘He’s probably in his room. The staff quarters are to the left of the reception as you enter. Do you want me to give him a ring and see if he’s there?’
‘Thank you.’
‘Who shall I say is calling?’
‘DCI Anna Travis.’ She took out her ID and showed it to the girl, who glanced at it and then looked up.
‘Police?’ She rang an internal number, waiting a while before she replaced the phone. ‘Not answering. He might be in the spa by the swimming pool. You want me to call there as well?’
‘No. I tell you what – just point me in the right direction.’
‘Turn right, go to the end of the corridor, then left and it’s signposted.’
‘Thank you.’
Anna moved along the thickly carpeted corridor lined with many sketches and paintings for sale, continuing along a second corridor down some stairs to the indoor pool. It was very warm and an elderly woman with a flowered bathing cap was doing breast-stroke in a very leisurely fashion. The spa and Jacuzzi area was through glass doors, and there was a beauty and hair salon which was closed. Racks of hotel towels were freely available. Pushing open the door to the spa, the smell of chlorine and bleach was overpowering. The Jacuzzi was empty and a slim young man was using a bucket and mop to clean it out.
‘It’s not working today,’ he said pleasantly.
‘Are you Craig Sumpter?’
He nodded. Anna moved closer and showed her ID. He tossed a wet sponge into the bucket.
‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ she asked.
He hesitated and then gestured towards a sun-lounge with wicker beds, cushions and chairs.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
The sun-lounge was cold. Anna watched as the rain lashed down on the large windows that overlooked the gardens and the cove, and sat staring out at the ocean until Craig came in, running his hand through his blonde hair. He was very slender with narrow shoulders, and he was wearing black trousers that looked as if they’d seen better days. His white shirt was clean and pressed, but it looked too large for him.
‘Is this to do with Sammy Marsh?’ he asked.
‘In a way, yes it is. You knew him?’ Anna asked.
‘Everybody around here knows him, but this wasn’t his type of place. He came here a few times, but not recently – maybe months ago. In fact, it was last summer – in June. He wasn’t staying, just having tea out on the patio.’
Anna nodded.
‘I’ve been asked about him a few times by the police, but that’s basically all I could tell them.’
‘Why do you think they questioned you about Sammy?’
‘I’d been seen with him at the Smugglers cafe a few times. I worked the bar there when I first came to Cornwall and they said they were questioning everyone about him.’
‘I’m going to show you a photograph of someone else. See if you recognise him.’
She noticed that Craig was nervous. He had an elastic band that had been round his wrist which he was now threading through his fingers and twanging it. He was wearing rundown leather shoes and his foot twitched constantly.
‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-one. I’m learning the ropes here as I want to get into hotel management.’
‘This man?’ She showed him Alan Rawlins’s photograph. Craig looked at it and then back to Anna.
‘What about him?’
‘Do you know him?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Dan Matthews.’
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Because he’s missing and I am trying to trace him.’
‘Has he done something wrong?’
‘Just answer my question, Craig. When was the last time you saw him?’
‘Over six months ago.’
‘Did he come to see you here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you go to his flat in Newquay?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Did you have a relationship with him?’
‘Why do you want to know that?’
‘Because we are very concerned for his safety.’
Craig leaned forwards. He had a pretty face with wide blue eyes and a small nose with plump girlish lips.
‘I’m concerned too. He’s not contacted me and . . .’
He blinked back tears, twanging the elastic band.
‘Go on, Craig. It’s very important.’
‘He made me promises and I believed him, but he’s not answered my calls and now he’s not picking up his phone.’
‘His London phone?’
‘No, no, his mobile. I’ve sort of given up.’
‘What promises?’
The tears were very close to the surface and he tossed his head back, sniffing.
‘He said we’d move into a house he’d bought and he said that for my twenty-first he was going to give me a car.’ He wiped his cheek with the flat of his hand. ‘He said he was repairing a Mercedes, a 280SL. He said it would be my birthday present, but . . .’
‘So you had a very strong relationship with him?’
‘I thought so. I really believed him and I told everyone about the car.’
‘When you last saw him, how did he seem to you?’
‘Same as usual. We were going to look at his house, as he said it was almost finished. I’d helped choose some of the fabr ics for his sun-lounge and . . . I can’t believe that he was lying to me.’
‘Did he say he was planning to move to Cornwall on a permanent basis?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he ever tell you about his life back in London?’
‘Not that much. He was always very cagey about it – I know why.’
‘Why?’
‘He was living with a woman. He said they were just platonic, but he never wanted to talk about her. He said it was awkward and that he didn’t want to stay with her.’
‘He never told you he was engaged to this woman?’
Craig looked shocked and then shook his head.
‘Was he ever nasty to you?’ Anna asked next.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Rough? Knock you around?’
‘Dan?’
‘Yes – did he beat you up at all?’
‘No, never. He was really special. He was my first real relationship and he was always gentle and looked out for me.’
‘Did you ever see him use drugs?’
‘A couple of times he had some ecstasy tabs, but I wouldn’t take them. He also smoked a few joints and I wouldn’t even do that.’
