Free Snapped in Cornwall by Janie Bolitho

After the cool wind it was warm inside and smelt of coffeeand bread and pasties. On the table was a pot of tea. Rose ordered a coffee.
    Doreen concentrated on the contents of her teacup until the waitress returned.
    ‘How can I help you, Mrs Clarke?’
    Rose waited, watching various expressions cross the woman’s face. Her body language suggested she was ill at ease, embarrassed even, but whether that was because she was taking up Rose’s time or because of what she had to say, Rose had yet to find out. Doreen fiddled with a teaspoon then dropped it. It clattered against her saucer. Colour spread from her crepey neck into her face.
    ‘Mrs Clarke?’
    ‘I don’t think I should be here. I shouldn’t have asked you to come.’
    Wonderful, Rose thought. A whole morning wasted. ‘Well, I am here.’ She managed to keep the exasperation out of her voice. Did she need a job, was that it?
    ‘If I tell you, you won’t say it came from me, will you?’
    ‘Tell me what?’ Until she knew, Rose couldn’t answer.
    ‘It’s probably no more than stupid gossip.’ She took a deep breath and pulled her short, plump body upright in the chair, tucking her straight, grey hair behind her ears. ‘Eileen Penrose is a very jealous woman. I’ve known her for years and it’s not just me that realises it. How her husband puts up with her is beyond me.’ She lowered her voice as the café began to fill up. Two women with children in pushchairs sat behind them, the children making too much noise for them to be overheard. ‘She follows him.’
    ‘What?’ Rose could not imagine someone doing that.
    ‘She does. Jim did some work for Mrs Milton.’
    ‘Jim?’
    ‘Eileen’s husband. He was up there twice. Eileen helps out now and again, but I saw her, you see, about ten days ago it was. I thought you might’ve seen her too.’
    ‘Me?’
    ‘Yes. You was there, taking the snaps.’
    Rose did not explain that what she did was a little more complicated than taking snaps. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I didn’tsee her.’ But maybe she had captured her on film. And in which case, what was she doing there?
    ‘She didn’t see me,’ Doreen continued. ‘But you see, she’d overheard me telling someone in the village that Mrs Milton was having a visitor that afternoon. I think she thought it might be her Jim and she wanted to catch him out. The visitor was you, of course.’
    Rose tried to visualise the sort of woman Eileen Penrose must be. Suddenly she realised who Doreen meant. ‘Is that the lady who was serving the drinks?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Now she understood. Eileen Penrose had been missing around the time Gabrielle had met her death. ‘Did you tell this to the police?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Why ever not?’
    ‘You don’t understand what it’s like. She’d never forgive me. Nor would anyone else.’
    But Rose did understand. She had lived there long enough to know what a tight-knit community it was, how everyone knew everyone else’s business. Doreen Clarke’s position would not have been enviable had she mentioned her suspicions. But Rose also saw the advantages. If you weren’t seen for a day or so someone would make sure you were all right. ‘Why are you telling me?’
    ‘Because you live far enough away. And you were there. And I thought, you being a local celebrity and all, they’d take more notice of you.’
    Rose smothered a smile. A local celebrity. So Doreen Clarke already knew or had made inquiries as to who she was. But she did not see how she could bring herself to say all this to Inspector Pearce, although it now seemed likely that it was Eileen Penrose she had captured in that final photograph.
    ‘I can leave it to you then?’ Suddenly businesslike, Doreen stood up and fastened her short jacket. She picked up her own bill and took it to the cash desk, leaving Rose trying to decide what she ought to do. Gabrielle Milton’s murder, now she was over the initial shock, was beginning to intrigue her.
     
    Dennis