A Cornish Revenge (The Loveday Ross Cornish Mysteries Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

bumped his head on the low lintel over the front door, but she didn’t apologise for not warning him about it.

CHAPTER THREE
      The raucous cries of the gulls on the roof of Loveday’s cottage woke her next morning, or maybe it had been the sun streaming in through the gap in the curtains. She got up and threw open the window. Out in the bay a solitary yacht, its white sails billowing, glided in front of the Mount.
    The wild rabbits that lived beneath the hedge surrounding her garden were up and about, breakfasting on the thick grass below her window. The phone rang just as she was stepping out of the shower, and she cursed when she saw the caller’s name flashing.
    Merrick Tremayne was the owner/publisher of Cornish Folk magazine, and Loveday’s immediate boss. Why hadn’t she called him? He’d have heard about yesterday’s drama by now and would now be panicking about those two blank pages that still had to be filled.
    But she was wrong. Merrick’s voice was full of concern.
      ‘You should have rung me, Loveday I’ve been worried…well, we all have. What a terrible thing finding a body like that.’
      ‘Hang on, Merrick. How did you know about that?’
      ‘Sam Kitto rang me. Don’t even think about coming in this morning.’
      ‘Inspector Kitto? You know him?’ Her voice rose in surprise.
      ‘What? Well, yes of course I do,’ he said distractedly, a touch of irritation creeping into his voice. ‘Look, Loveday. I really do want you to take the day off. Delayed reaction can be serious.’
      ‘Thanks for the concern.’ So Merrick and the inspector were buddies?  She wondered what else the policeman had told her boss about her…or the other way round, perhaps?  She forced her mind back to her work. ‘We still have the problem of those two empty pages … remember?’
      But Merrick waved her protests aside. ‘Don’t worry. Everything’s sorted. We’ll be digging into the picture files and we’re sure to come up with a good enough collection of photos to make a spread. I’ll go in today and write the copy and we’ll easily fill that space.’ He paused. ‘So you see, Loveday, in the nicest possible way, you’re just not needed in the office today.’
      Merrick was a perfectionist, and although he seldom overruled her in the running of the magazine’s editorial, he was quick to step in if he felt something wasn’t right. She knew he wouldn’t be happy using this emergency stopgap material.
      ‘I am fine,’ she insisted. ‘And I appreciate your concern, but it’s my job to fill those pages, and I will.’
      ‘Er…excuse me young lady. I’m still the boss around here, and I’m telling you to leave this to me.’
      Loveday sighed. From her window she could see the sun glinting on the water. She suddenly had an urge to be out running across the white sandy beach. ‘Well…if you’re sure - ’  she said hesitantly. 
      ‘Perfectly sure,’ Merrick insisted. ‘You just relax today. That’s an order.’
      ‘Thanks, Merrick. I appreciate this,’ she laughed, and knew he was smiling too, as he rang off.
    It suited Merrick Tremayne to let people think he took a back seat in the running of Cornish Folk , but none of them doubted he was the driving force behind the magazine’s popularity. His passion for it had been evident from the day Loveday first met him.
    Delighted to have been selected as a candidate for the assistant editor’s post, she had turned up at the magazine’s Truro office for the interview in her best navy suit, climbed the stairs and was directed through the editorial floor to the editor’s room.
  Merrick hadn’t been at all what she had imaged a magazine editor should look like. He was approaching 50, his sandy hair, thinning a little, was ruffled and he had loosened his tweed tie and rolled up the sleeves of his dark shirt. No special effort to impress, then, she thought.
He rose a little from his desk as she came in, extending a hand