‘Why not?’
Craig turned away. His foot was still twitching and his hands couldn’t stop twanging the elastic band.
‘I’ve had a few problems with my kidneys. When I was a kid it was quite bad so I’ve been on medication. I’m scared to take anything that might make me ill again. I don’t drink either.’
‘You said you were working here to train in hotel management, but if you took up his offer to go and live with him, that would mean losing your job, wouldn’t it?’
‘No. He told me he was coming into some inheritance, a lot of money, and that we could look around to buy a small hotel. I couldn’t believe it when he never wrote to me or texted or phoned. I’ve been in a right state because he promised me, he promised me.’
‘Do you have any of his letters?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you allow me to see them?’
‘They’re private.’
‘Listen to me, Craig – you need to know that the man you knew as Daniel Matthews has been missing for some considerable time – and that is probably why you haven’t heard from him. I’m sorry to say that we have grave concerns about his safety. In fact, we fear that he may have been murdered, so anything you can do to help me try to either trace him, or find out what has happened to him, would be greatly appreciated.’
‘Murdered? Are you saying he’s dead?’
‘Possibly.’
The tears the young man had been trying to keep under control rolled down his cheeks.
‘I loved him,’ he sobbed.
‘These letters, Craig – please may I see them?’
‘They’re in my room.’
‘Will you take me there?’ Anna tried to be gentle, to curb her impatience.
He drew a shuddering breath and then nodded.
Chapter Eighteen
Paul’s legs felt like jelly as he got down from the helicopter. Williams found it amusing, saying that at least he hadn’t thrown up. He put his arm around Paul’s shoulders and guided him towards the waiting patrol car.
‘Get a cup of our coffee down you and you’ll feel better.’
‘Promise?’ Paul said with a weak smile.
When they arrived at the station Harry Took repeated to Williams that Anna had gone to talk to guys they had interviewed at the hotels. Williams didn’t like it, saying sharply that he should have driven her as she was going to be hours, and with the weather getting even worse she would find driving hazardous.
They ordered sandwiches which were brought into the incident room on a trolley. Seeing them made Paul feel even worse. He also felt like a spare part. The trip in the helicopter had revealed nothing apart from the scale of Sammy Marsh’s territory for drug-dealing. He sat at an empty desk as Williams asked his team if they had any new developments, listening to the latest reports: there had been no movement in any of Sammy’s known bank accounts, no credit-card use, and the monies transferred to Alan Rawlins’s account in the Cayman Islands were also untouched. Paul excused himself and went to the gents to put in a call to Anna, who answered abruptly, saying she couldn’t talk, but that she would be heading back to the station shortly. She suggested he use the time to take a look over the Smugglers cafe, the known haunt of Sammy and Alan.
‘It’s closed,’ Paul pointed out.
‘Check it out anyway,’ she said and cut off the call.
Paul next rang the incident room in London, only to discover that Brian Stanley was off sick and Helen was out of the station, on enquiries at Asda.
Paul was told that the manager had rung to say he had made a mistake and therefore the footage for the day Tina Brooks had purchased the bleach may not have been erased. Paul hung up, unconvinced that this would add anything as they already had the date and time on Tina’s receipt and she was not denying the purchase of bleach and carpet cleaner from Asda.
He returned to the incident room as the team finished up their tea and sandwiches, and Williams gave him a sidelong glance, knowing he would have been calling Anna.
‘How’s your lady boss?’
‘Couldn’t talk as she was busy, but do you think we could go and look over the Smugglers cafe?’
‘It’s closed. We’ve also checked it out and there’s nothing there.’
‘I know that, but just out of interest.’
‘Sure – I’ll arrange it.’ Williams turned to Harry Took, who was still eating.
‘Harry, wheel Paul here over to the Smugglers cafe. Call the guy that owns it and see if they can open it up.’
Paul caught the amused glances between Williams and Harry, feeling even more like a spare part as he delved into his pocket for some chewing gum, anything to take away the taste of bile still in his mouth.
The rain was still lashing down. Anna had to use the fleece to cover her head again as Craig led her out of the hotel via a back exit and around through the gardens to the staff quarters. He’d said he didn’t want anyone from the management to see them go into his room as they didn’t like their staff entertaining.
The staff accommodation was in a small single-storey building attached to the main hotel. Each unit had its own entrance door. Craig unlocked his, soaked from the rain, his blonde hair dripping.
It was just a single bedroom with a shower unit and a small kitchen annex, all very tidy. On the bedside table were three small framed photographs. Each one had Craig and Alan Rawlins together, sunbathing, dining out and walking close together on the beach.
‘Who took these?’
‘I did. My camera’s got a timer on it. Dan bought it for me.’
Anna sat on the only comfortable chair as Craig opened a drawer in a small painted dresser. He took out a bundle of letters in their envelopes and then sat on the bed as he thumbed through them. A couple he placed to one side.
‘They’re from my mum,’ he explained, looking up.
He then passed Anna four letters, all of which she noticed had peel and seal envelopes and therefore no chance of any DNA from Alan Rawlins’s saliva.
‘They’re very personal,’ he said quietly.
She opened the first. There was no date and no address, but she noticed a London postmark. The letter had been written over a year ago. The writing was neat in felt-tipped pen and it was rather touching, saying how much Alan had enjoyed meeting Craig and that he couldn’t wait for when he would be able to see him again. It also mentioned he had enclosed some money for him to start saving for the surfboard he wanted. He had signed
Craig remained silent as Anna read through the letters. Nothing in them gave any indication of what Alan Rawlins’s intentions were, although there was the promise of the Mercedes for Craig’s birthday.
‘How much money did he send you?’
‘Two or three hundred. It’s all in a savings account.’
There was something almost fatherly about the instructions to eat well and work out to build up his strength. There was a reference to when Alan would be next coming to see him and that he would be bringing some clothes for him and some new shoes.
‘Did you reply to his letters?’
‘No, as I never had his address. He said it wouldn’t be a good idea, but whenever I asked why, he would change the subject. He told me he often stayed over at his parents’ and I thought that maybe I could write to him
