MURDER MOST FLORAL

ABI ANDERSON MYSTERIES BOOK 4

BY ZANNA MACKENZIE

MURDER MOST FLORAL– © 2020 Zanna Mackenzie

The moral rights of the author have been asserted. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All plots, incidents, characters, locations, organisations, names, etc. are fictitious, created from the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real persons, incidents, locations, organisations, names are purely coincidental. No part of this book may be stored, shared, copied, transmitted or reproduced in any way without express written permission from the author.

About This Story:

When Daniel Cosgrove is stabbed at the Greenward Isle Flower Farm it seems there are suspects aplenty. With the island locals sticking together and not helping matters, the atrocious weather hindering things even further and a missing murder weapon in the mix, the investigation is not going to plan at all. As Abi and Jake uncover numerous untruths and a whole lot of mysteries on the tiny Greenward Isle, the case seems to be getting more complicated and the chances of successfully cracking the investigation less likely with every passing minute!

Join Abi and Jake on another exciting sleuthing adventure right now...

CHAPTER ONE

I can’t hold back the sigh of relief as my feet finally touch terra firma.

“Feeling OK?” Jake asks, peering at me cautiously. “You look a bit nauseous.”

“That’s because I feel nauseous,” I grumble in response.

We have both just stepped off a helicopter flight down to the Greenward Isles located off the south west of England. I’m not a huge fan of flying anyway but needs must when you’re a special agent for the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency. Boarding a commercial flight or even a private jet are one thing but climbing into a tiny helicopter which has whole sides you can see right through - down to the crashing waves far below you - is a whole other challenge.

“Do you want to take a minute?” Jake asks, pointing at the tiny collection of plastic tables and chairs and an airport coffee machine optimistically called a cafe.

The thought of coffee turns my stomach even more, so I shake my head. “No, thanks, I’ll be OK when I get some fresh air. Let’s get straight to the flower farm and start this investigation.”

Outside, I’m nearly blown off my feet by a fierce wind that whips in off the sea. It’s supposed to be the height of summer, but you’d never think so thanks to the heavy clouds looming ominously and the gusty wind tugging at the flag pole outside the tiny airport.

A hire car is waiting for us and Jake jumps into the driving seat once we’ve dumped our bags into the miniscule boot of the compact vehicle. Based on the small amount of luggage we have it’s clear neither of us think we’re going to be spending too long on the Greenward Isles cracking the case of the flower farm murder. Let’s hope we’re right on that front.

The narrow lanes on the island are surprisingly busy with a combination of tractors, cars and bicycles and several times Jake has to nose the car into a field entrance to let vehicles move past in the opposite direction. By the time we eventually pull into the long and rather bumpy lane down to Greenward Isle Flower Farm I’m feeling even more nauseous. I risk a few sips of water to see if they help settle my stomach before climbing from the car. It’s raining heavily and a sea mist clouds the landscape. Honestly, you’d think it was autumn not summer. Shivering into my fleece, I make a run for it across the yard towards a building marked as the visitor centre and shop.

A woman dressed in overalls, her red hair tied back in a ponytail, greets us. I’d say she’s in her late twenties, a bit younger than me.

“Hi, I’m Fliss, how can I help you?” she chimes.

Jake and I flash our CCIA identification badges and her face pales. “You’ll need to speak to the boss,” she says so quietly I can hardly hear her. “I’ll go and fetch him,” she adds before scuttling off.

Jake raises his eyebrows at the sudden change in her demeanour and I shrug.

As we wait for her boss to appear, I wander around the shop. The flowers are amazing. All so bright and vibrant; some of them big and bold and others altogether more delicate. Out of the window the rain continues to lash down and the wind batters the buildings and rattles the gates. It’s difficult to imagine such gorgeous summery flowers emerging from the fields that face these challenging weather conditions.

“You took your time getting here,” a male voice grumbles and I turn to see the man I assume is the boss of the flower farm.

Michael Fraser Moss was the lead singer of a rock band carrying the strange and seemingly un-rock-like name of The Flower Petals. After one too many occasions with his band mates being caught up in drink and drug incidents and their antics being splashed all over the tabloids, Michael – who claims to be tee-total and vegan – quit the band and purchased a flower farm on a windswept island well away from the media, stardom and certainly a world away from his former life.

“There was a flight delay due to the storm,” Jake offers by way of explanation as he shakes Michael’s hand.

This man has instantly got me riled up but I step forward, shake his hand, paste on a polite smile and then start with the questions. “So, why would your field manager be murdered?”

“That’s for you to find out,” he snaps. “Come through to the office and I’ll let you have all the details.”

CHAPTER TWO

The office turns out to be a tiny portion of a large barn in which people are busily packing flowers in individual gift boxes as well as into bulk crates. An unseen radio is blaring out some cheery pop tune but the atmosphere is far from cheerful as the staff all prepare flowers, heads down, nobody speaking.

We take seats around a desk behind a makeshift wall consisting of wood pallets and filing cabinets.

Michael pushes a file across the desk towards us and I flip it open. The one and only local law enforcement officer has compiled a report on the murder of Daniel Gosgrove, field manager at the flower farm.

He was found dead in the cab of his tractor, stabbed with a knife of the type used by all the flower pickers out in the fields. No suspects are listed in the file – it simply says that everyone on the island is a suspect. Hmm, not very useful! Not to mention the murder happened two days ago now so our murderer may well have hopped on a boat, plane or helicopter and vanished into nowhere. No travel restrictions were imposed on the occupants of the island at the time of the murder. Brilliant.

Jake opens his notebook and turns to Michael. “Tell us everything you can about Daniel Gosgrove please.”

“He worked at the farm before I took it over,” Michael starts to explain.

“So he was a local?” I check.

Michael shakes his head. “No, you have to live on the island for about twenty years and have deep family connections to Greenward going back three generations at least to ever be considered a local around here.”

“So how long had he lived and worked here?” Jake chips in.

“He moved here about two years ago. Prior to that he worked for a country estate in Cornwall overseeing their market gardens. He’s very qualified and knowledgeable but could be controversial.”

“Controversial? In what way?” I ask.

“His methods of operation and his attitude,” Michael replies, tapping his fingers against the top of his desk and looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“You mean he was a bully?” I venture. “A chauvinist? A slave driver? A perfectionist who harangued his workers?”

“All of the above,” Michael replies gruffly.

Jake lets out a low whistle. “I’m guessing we’re going to end up with a pretty long list of people who might have had reason to want to see the back of this guy.”

Michael leans forward, slamming both hands down on the desk and glaring at us. “Look, he knew his stuff and got the job done and that’s what I needed when I took over this place. I did what I had to do to keep the business afloat. Plus, letting him go could have led to even more trouble...”

I glare right back at him. This man has a serious attitude problem of his own. Maybe in reality Daniel Gosgrove was a kindred spirit. “In what way would it have been trouble? Was he blackmailing you or threatening you?”

The man who hired us to track down a murderer on his flower farm now slumps back in his chair and looks defeated.

Jake, recognising the signs, jumps in with: “What did you do that he knew about and was holding over you?”

Michael gets to his feet and starts shuffling paperwork around and opening filing cabinets. Jake and I exchange knowing glances.

It’s a couple of minutes before Michael explains. “OK, so I’m not perfect.”

“Who did you have an affair with?” Jake asks, then sighs and closes his notebook.

“Nobody!” Michael retorts. “I swear. I love my wife and my kids and would never do anything to disrespect or harm them.”

“Then it’s about money,” I deduce. “It’s usually one or the other.”

Michael nods. “I was fiddling the books,” he says quietly, looking anxiously around as though he’s expecting a representative of Her Majesty’s Revenue & Customs service to leap out from behind a pallet and arrest him for tax avoidance. “When I bought the farm the books were really good and according to the information supplied the place was thriving and doing a roaring business but it soon became evident that the books were fictitious. I got my lawyer involved but eventually he said there was nothing he could do as there was no proof. Daniel and I came up with a recovery plan for the farm, but we had to call in favours, cut corners and upset a few people along the way. In the meantime, as I ploughed the little money we had into attempting to turn the place around, I felt I had to keep the business looking like it wasn’t making any money even though we were starting to by that point. The cash flow wasn’t brilliant, and we had several late payers to deal with. Plus, the majority of our employees don’t exist on the official records. They have no contracts and are paid cash in hand so...”

“So, you don’t have to pay them anything if there’s no work for them to do,” I finish.

He nods.

“So I’m guessing the two of you had a disagreement over something and that caused Daniel to threaten you with telling all to the customs and excise people and the employment legislation folks,” I say.

“OK, so I may be reluctantly prepared to fiddle the books and employment law, but I draw the line at...” His words fade to nothing and he stares at the floor.

“At what?” Jake demands.

“Sexual harassment,” Michael says quietly.

Jake swears and my heart sinks. I hate these kinds of cases. Harassment is horrible and makes for notoriously tricky investigations. When we walked through the barn to the office area, I spotted most of the flower packers were young and female. Daniel could have been harassing each and every one of them. Maybe they got together and planned his murder – though only one person could have actually been wielding the knife that stabbed him.

“We’d better start interviewing the staff,” I say, getting to my feet. “Is there somewhere more private we can use for that purpose?”

“There’s a small barn out the back that’s the break room,” Michael says. “You can use that.”

As we make our way through the packing area, a few women send anxious glances in our direction. A tall blonde dressed in wellington boots, denim shorts and a baggy sweatshirt over the top looks like she has tears in her eyes. A girl who can barely be sixteen hides behind a battered baseball cap. This is not a happy workforce.

CHAPTER THREE

It takes us little more than ten minutes to get our ‘office’ set up in the break room in the other barn and we agree it might be more sensitive in the circumstances if I go through and fetch each interviewee.

I start with the girl in the denim shorts.

“Aren’t you freezing?” I chat, trying to set her at ease, as we walk from the packing shed to the break room.

“I always wear shorts,” she replies. “Doesn’t matter what the weather is doing.”

OK. Fair enough.

“Take a seat,” I say, sitting next to her, with Jake sat off to the other side. We thought it best to approach this in a more informal manner, hoping it might relax people more.

She perches on a chair and folds long, toned and tanned legs one over the other. I glance at Jake but to his credit he keeps his eyes on her face and not her amazing legs. A flutter of something akin to relief goes through me and I instantly chastise myself. What does it matter if Jake checks out this stunning creature? Well, I suppose professionally it wouldn’t look good but other than that, why should I care? I push down a flurry of uncomfortable emotions. I’m not looking to get involved. My darling Adam has gone; ripped away from me in the line of duty. My heart was broken, smashed to smithereens. I’m not getting involved again. My gaze flicks back to Jake. Jake with his clichéd tall, dark and handsome looks. Jake with a heart of gold.

“Do you like working here?” Jake begins by asking Miss Beautiful Flower Farm 2020, whose real name we discover is Avril.

She shrugs. “It’s a job. I like to be outdoors no matter what the weather. It makes me feel alive.” Leaning forward she reaches up and pulls off her oversize sweatshirt revealing a skimpy vest top that leaves nothing to the imagination.

My eyes swivel involuntarily towards Jake once more but he’s busy scribbling in his notebook and avoiding looking at her.

“You know what it’s like to really feel alive right?” she flirts with Jake, leaning forward again, this time to sweep a hand from her ankle all of the way up her legs to her thigh and the edge of her denim shorts.

This girl has trouble written all over her. I know I shouldn’t pre-judge but so far it’s looking more likely that she came on to her boss Daniel than him harassing her.

“How long have you worked at the farm?” I ask and she casts me a disparaging look. “Five years, give or take. It’s seasonal so I usually take off to work in the chalets in the ski resorts over in Austria and France during the winter but there’s always a job back here for me each spring and right through summer.”

“How did you get on with your boss?” I ask.

Avril smirks. “You mean was I sleeping with him?”

“And were you?” I counter.

“No,” she replies surprisingly haughtily. “I wasn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I like a good time, but Daniel was too...”

I lean forward on the edge of my seat. “Too what?”

“Easy,” she eventually replies. “I like a challenge when it comes to men.” She eyes up Jake as she speaks. He avoids meeting her gaze once more and continues to write everything in his notebook.

“Where were you on the night Daniel Gosgrove was murdered?” Jake asks, without even looking up.

“You mean do I have an alibi? Well, as it turns out, I do. And so does Dimitri who also works here from time to time. We were together, at his place.”

“So, you’re saying you and this Dimitri are involved?” I ascertain.

That smirk is back again. “No, not involved, just having fun. Lots of fun.”

She’s winding me up. Looking at me as though I’m some uptight spinster who avoids men, relationships and fun.

How did she judge me so well from just a few minutes in my company?

In truth, since Adam left me, that’s what I have become. All in the name of trying to protect my heart from getting broken again. A part of me dislikes this carefree and gorgeous young woman who appears to have no agenda other than making sure her life is full of fun. Another part of me though envies her devil-make-care attitude and sassiness.

“Did your boss ever make inappropriate moves on you, verbally or physically?” Jake checks.

Avril grins at him and twirls the end of her ponytail in her fingers. “Danny Boy? He wouldn’t dare! I’m way too much for him to handle.”

“Did you know of or hear about him harassing any of your co-workers?” Jake presses, keeping his expression serious and his eyes firmly on the case.

“Of course,” she nods, and this time her voice is heavy. “Some of them left because of it. The thing is, if you can’t handle yourself and nip that sort of thing in the bud, then you’re going to struggle around here. It’s not right and it’s sad, but it’s true.”

“Why didn’t anyone report him?” I demand.

Miss Beautiful Flower Farm 2020 shrugs. “Who can they report it to? We work on an island in the middle of nowhere. We have no employment contracts, no Human Resources department. Basically, no rights. The island has one policeman and he’s about as much use as a chocolate teapot. You have three choices – you stand up for yourself and deal with the creeps, you leave the island and a job you love in a stunning setting to avoid them or you give in and succumb to the lechers.”

Jake and I both speak at the same time in response.

“Which of your fellow employees do you know Daniel was harassing?” Jake asks.

My question is: “You’re speaking in the plural. You said creeps and lechers. Who else around here is harassing the staff?”

Avril answers my question first, much to my surprise. “Michael of course.”

CHAPTER FOUR

That throws me. Michael just told Jake and I that he loves his wife and family and would never cheat on them, yet here is Avril claiming he’s as bad at inappropriate behaviour with the staff as Daniel was. Which one of them is telling the truth?

“And you know this for sure?” Jake checks with her.

She nods. “Mary was in tears one night up at the dorm. The female workers all share a dorm room in a converted barn down the lane. I came home late from a trip to Dimitri’s place and she was sobbing outside on a bench. As I tried to comfort her, she told me everything. There had been a late order come in for some flowers for a birthday party and they needed to be prepared and packed and put onto a specially commissioned boat across to Cornwall. Mary had gone with Michael in the van to the harbour to help load them onto the boat. On the way back he stopped in a field gateway and tried it on with her.”

My stomach dips and nausea rises in my throat at the thought of the horrible scene.

“She told him she was engaged and didn’t cheat. Then she managed to duck out of the van and run down the lane towards the pub. He left her alone after that, but she was pretty upset.”

“How awful.” I take a breath and push on with the questions. “Does Mary still work here?”

“Yep but Michael had a little visit from Mary’s fiancé and that sorted things out. Zig works on one of the fishing boats and has muscles galore. He’s yummy and really macho on the outside but according to Mary he’s a total sweetheart as well. Mary loves working here and is a skilled horticulturalist, so she wanted to keep her job. Zig told Michael what would happen to him if he ever said a word or laid a finger on Mary ever again. Apparently, Michael went deathly pale at that point and avoids Mary like the plague these days.”

Unless several people are lying here – and why would they have reason to? - then it does appear that Michael is the one telling fibs about his conduct, not Avril, Mary and the intriguingly named Zig.

“Is there anyone who might have cause to take things to such an extreme as to murder Daniel?” Jake asks.

“Lots of people,” is Avril’s worrying response.

“Such as?” I press.

“Michael for starters, then maybe...”

I hold up a hand to halt her words. “Michael? Why would he want to kill his farm manager?”

She rolls her eyes. “You guys really aren’t in the loop with Greenward goings-on, are you? Michael’s wife Fenella is having a fling with Daniel and has been ever since they arrived on the island.”

What? This case is getting more complex by the moment!

“And this is fact, not just gossip?” Jake ascertains.

“Fact,” Avril confirms. “Dimitri and I saw the pair of them staggering out of the sand dunes late one night under the light of the moon.”

“And does Michael know about this?”

“I’m pretty sure he does.”

“Anything else we need to know?” I ask, my mind churning through theories, motives and numerous possibilities.

Avril uncurls her long legs and gets to her feet. “Most women below the age of thirty who work at this farm have been propositioned by either Michael or Daniel, and possibly both. They each deal with it in their own way. Some laugh it off. Some ditch the job and get the first boat back to the mainland. It is what it is.”

Turning to Jake she lowers her voice and adds, “And if you need an island guide or just some company, you can call me anytime.” She scribbles what I assume is her number on a bit of paper and hands it to him.

With that she sashays out into the wind and rain in her skimpy shorts and vest top.

As soon as she’s gone Jake lets out a long breath and runs his hands through his cropped brown hair. “Wow, she’s lively.”

I look away, irritation bubbling inside me. Annoyed with myself, I stand up. Jake has made it clear in a discreet and gentlemanly way that he likes me as more than a colleague. If I wanted to get involved with him, then I could. If I wanted to... I guess I’m struggling with admitting that a part of me is tempted to start something with my handsome and intelligent fellow CCIA agent. But I’m scared. What if it doesn’t work out? What if I’m going to get my heart broken all over again? What if he dies in the line of duty like Adam did? Surely, it’s best to keep things purely professional? Yes, of course it is.  For now anyway...

“So, what do you reckon?” Jake asks, bringing me out of my mess of emotions and back into reality. “Who is telling the truth and who is telling fibs?”

I sigh. “Good question.”

An hour or so of interviews seems to largely back up Avril’s claims on most points. Several of the staff have certainly had issues with harassment but nobody else claims they came from the direction of Michael, just from Daniel. Was Avril lying about Michael causing issues for Mary? If so, why? It wouldn’t make sense to do so as we can easily check her story with Mary and Zig.

Jake and I decide to retire to a pub for some refreshments and to go over our notes. We don’t have a specific pub in mind and have no idea where one might even be, but we navigate the bumpy and pot-holed track from the flower farm up to the lane that serves as a main road on Greenward Island and then gamble on a right turn in search of a suitable hostelry.

The Anchor public house fits the bill. It nestles under a cliff on the edge of a rocky cove and looks perfect. We find a slot in the busy car park and head inside. Given the weather conditions it seems the great majority of the islanders have ditched their work for the day and headed for the cosy warmth of the pub to chat, drink and eat. As we push open the door the noise is deafening but as a gust of wind grabs the door from my hand and slams it shut, all heads swivel in our direction and the chatter stops. If I was of a nervous disposition I’d turn round and head right back outside again but I’m not prone to anxiety in situations such as this – just, it seems, when it comes to matters of the heart!

“What can I get you?” the barman asks as we hop onto wooden stools and lean against the polished top of the bar.

“Pint of orange juice for me please,” Jake replies. “Abi?”

“A lemonade please,” I supply.

The barman nods and goes about the business of preparing our drinks. The occupants of The Anchor are silent as we wait.

Once we have our beverages and have paid what seemed to be grossly inflated prices for them, we retreat to a corner table near a draughty window to discuss the morning’s findings.

Leaning close to Jake, I whisper, “Do you think they’re going to sit silently and stare at us the whole time?”

He shrugs and whispers back, “Islanders can be weird.”

We sip our drinks and chat about the weather until the locals grow tired of looking and listening and go back to their own chatter and noisy banter.

“So,” I say, opening my notepad and scanning my scrawl. “Avril seems to be the only one claiming Michael was also a part of the whole harassment situation. Which suggests she’s the one stretching the truth, but why?”

“She said she liked men who played hard to get, maybe that’s relevant,” Jake replies after taking a sip of his drink. “Perhaps Michael was telling the truth when he said he loved his wife and family and would never cheat on them. Maybe Avril made a play for him – the good-looking former rock star – and he rejected her and so she made up lies to try and land him in trouble.”

“Maybe,” I ponder, watching the wind batter the hanging basket outside the pub. “But why involve other people in her lie? She could have just said Michael came on to her, then it’s his word against hers. With this whole Mary and Zig thing, other people are involved and if it’s a lie it could get decidedly complicated.”

“True,” he concedes.

A man in his twenties appears behind the bar, all muscles, tattoos and big brown eyes.

“Zig!” another guy shouts across the bar. “Fancy a spot of night fishing? Storm will have blown through by eleven they say.”

The man behind the bar, who appears to be Zig, grins, gives a thumbs up and shouts: “You’re on, Dimitri!”

“So, this Zig, that’s the guy who threatened Michael then, huh?” Jake says. “Looks like he works at the pub as well as on the fishing boats like Avril said earlier.”

“Yep. It does. Should we go and have a word and see if he’s singing off the same hymn sheet as Avril regarding the harassment?”

“I reckon it might be best to track down and talk to Mary first.”

“Avril said it was Mary’s day off today, but we might find her at the female dorm for the farm,” I reply. “We could do with a way of finding out if this stuff about Fenella having a fling with Daniel is true or not as well.”

Jake raises an eyebrow. “Based on this lot, I get the feeling the locals aren’t going to be too keen on spilling all the island gossip.”

I pull a gloomy face. “Me neither.”

We finish our drinks and leave. Outside the ferocious wind whips at my clothes and pulls at my hair. The sea is in quite a frenzy now and the waves are crashing across the rocks and sending plumes of spray high into the air. 

“Hey,” Jake says, nodding his head towards where Dimitri is now climbing onto a motorbike. “Maybe we should have a word with him too while he’s here.”

“Good idea.”

Bracing ourselves against the weather we rush across the car park of The Anchor and draw level with Avril’s boyfriend Dimitri just as he’s about to pull on a motorbike helmet.

“Hi!” I shout over the wind.

He pauses and looks from me to Jake. For a moment I think he’s still going to speed away, but he doesn’t. He stays right where he is, lowering the helmet to his side and looking like a man called before judge and jury.

“Hey,” he eventually says. “What I can do for you guys?”

“You know who we are?” I check, reaching for my CCIA identification badge.

He nods. “I suppose you want to talk about who killed Daniel.”

“That’d be useful,” Jake replies. “Where were you on the night he was murdered?”

“I was with Avril,” he says without a second of hesitation. “We’ve been dating a while now. She was at my place. I rent a flat above the fish and chip shop in town. We went downstairs and ate in the chip shop that night, so we have witnesses if you’re after alibis.”

“Good to know,” Jake responds. “So, who is your money on, huh? Who do you think stabbed Daniel Cosgrove?”

Dimitri laughs and shakes his head. “Isn’t that your job? To figure out who did away with him? I’m just a guy on a motorbike trying to mind his own business.”

“Everyone has an opinion on things like this though, right?” I chip in. “Especially in a small island community like this.”

“Fine,” Dimitri says and then shrugs. “For what it’s worth, I think it was one of the women at the flower farm who have had enough of him pestering and ogling them and they flipped and put an end to the source of their troubles.”

“Anyone in particular?” I press.

He laughs. “What? Seriously? You think I’m going to give you a name? Like you just said, this is a small island community and, for the most part, we look out for each other.”

Jake takes a step closer to Dimitri, pulling one of his much-used intimidation tactics. “If you look out for each other, then how come nobody put a stop to this Daniel guy harassing the females up at the flower farm, huh?”

Dimitri looks uncomfortable and fumbles with his bike helmet.

“Well?” Jake demands.

“Because it’s not that simple!” Dimitri snaps. “We wanted to but we... Look, it’s complicated. Are we done here? I need to be somewhere and now I’m going to be late.”

“We’re done, for now,” Jake affirms. “But we know where to find you if we have any further questions.”

As the bike roars off along the lane, Jake and I watch it go.

“I get the feeling he’s hiding something,” I say.

“Yeah, me too.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The dormitory barn for female flower farm employees is easily located on the road from The Anchor towards the island village of Breendon. A woman in her twenties dressed in leggings tucked into bright pink wool socks answers the door.

“You’ll be the people from the agency,” she says, stepping back so we can get inside out of the all-pervading wind and rain. “Come into the kitchen.”

The kitchen is a sparse but clean room with a quarry tile floor, oak cupboards and a large and somewhat battered pine table.

“I’m Mary,” she says. “Can I get you a coffee or something?”

“No thanks,” I reply, taking a seat at the table. “We’ve just come from The Anchor.”

“Yes, I know,” she replies, sitting opposite me.

“Word travels fast around these parts,” Jake says, joining us at the table.

“Zig rang and said you were in there. All the locals pulled the silent treatment he said. Ridiculous. You’re here to try and help, not to...”

“Not what?” Jake asks, leaning his elbows on the table.

She sighs. “You’re not here to cause trouble for the others, just find out what happened to Daniel and make sure his killer gets what they deserve. People around here think their silly little secrets are big news. Nobody is interested in their sordid affairs and dodgy dealings.”

“So, there are sordid affairs and dodgy dealings then?” I reply, hoping she’s going to spill everyone’s beans.

“Yes, there are but they’re not related to Daniel’s murder as far as I know so they’re not relevant to you.”

Ouch. That’s told us.

“Maybe Abi and I would be the best people to judge if they’re relevant or not,” Jake says sharply. “Secrets often lead to people doing things they would never normally dream of in order to keep those secrets from the public domain.”

“Well, I think the majority of this island’s inhabitants are fine upstanding people so...”

“But someone has been murdered,” I gently interject.

“Doesn’t mean it’s a local that did it,” she bats back. “The killer could have come here on a mission to seek revenge on Daniel for something and then got the first boat or plane out of here after they’d done what they needed to do.”

The far end of the table is strewn with hefty textbooks on plant biology along with a closed notepad.

“Studying?” I ask, with a nod of the head towards said books.

“Yes, I’m doing a PhD while I’m working at the flower farm. I’m studying more resilient floral crops that can handle the vagaries of the British weather, not to mention the added unpredictability of island weather.”

“How’s it going?” Jake asks her.

“I think there’s huge potential,” she replies, scooting the books up and putting them out of the way. “The flower farm could be doing so much better if they changed some of the crops they grow. Not only to flowers that are more weather tolerant but also to flowers that are more unusual, therefore commanding a premium price and giving us a unique selling point.”

“Sounds interesting,” Jake says. “Have you shared your findings with the owner of the farm?”

Mary shakes her head. “No point. Michael has made it clear he’s not interested in anything I have to say.”

“Not even if it helps to save his business?” I venture.

“Not if it has anything to do with me.”

“Why the animosity between the two of you?” I continue, settling back into the old farmhouse style pine dining chair.

“Avril already told you that Michael hit on me and Zig warned him off. It’s obvious why the boss hates me and won’t take my advice, even if I have a degree in biology and numerous qualifications in horticulture and agriculture. I rejected him and his roving hands and so he rejects me and my brilliant ideas. I’m sure it’s a situation lots of driven and intelligent women have found themselves in.”

“So, what are your plans after your PhD?” Jake asks.

“Well, the ideal would be to buy the farm and run it the way it should be run. Zig and I would make it the best in the country and create the most sought-after flowers imaginable.”

“But Michael won’t sell?” I check.

She shakes her head. “Certainly not to me, anyway.”

Jake gets to his feet and shoots me a look to check I’m on board with his plans. “I think we probably just have one more question for you...”

I nod and stand up too.

“Where were you on the night that Daniel was killed?” we both say at the same time.

“I was here in my room with Zig. Some of the other inmates here saw him arrive, they can back me up if need be.”

“OK. Thanks. We’ll leave you to your studying,” I say as we head for the door.

We decide our next interviewee is Michael’s wife Fenella. They live in a sprawling bungalow halfway along the lane that links the road and the flower farm.

As we drive up a woman in a bright orange waterproof is just pulling supermarket bags out of the back of a new BMW.

“Can I help you?” she calls from beneath the hood of her coat. Then recognition clearly dawns and she adds, “You’re the couple from the agency.”

Couple. I’m assuming she’s using the word in the sense of two people, not two people who are romantically involved, but even so hearing Jake and myself referred to as a couple seems weird and yet strangely comfortable and... well, sort of nice, I guess.

“We’d like a chat,” I say, pasting on a friendly smile.

“Sure,” she replies. “If there’s any chance you could just grab a bag of food shopping each and bring it into the house, I’d be eternally grateful.”

Ever obliging – well, OK, sometimes obliging – we do as requested and follow her inside. The house is beautifully furnished and the kitchen has the look of something from an interior design magazine. Impressive.

Then a thought pops into my head. Michael had told us the flower farm was struggling and he had no money – yet here his family is, living in a flash house with new top of the range cars parked outside. Interesting.

“Would you give me a moment while I just get this stuff into the fridge and freezer?” Fenella asks as she starts to stash eggs, orange juice and vegetables into the huge pink fridge. “I’ll make us a drink when I’m done and we can have a chat.”

“Fen! You’re back?” a male voice shouts through the house just before Michael appears in the doorway from the hall. “Oh, I thought I heard voices.”

“Pop the kettle on would you, love?” Fenella says to her husband.

Michael does as asked and fetches mugs from a cupboard. I notice neither of them have actually asked if we’d like a drink or not.

Once husband and wife have packed away all their groceries, they turn their attention back to us.

“Tea? Coffee?” Fenella asks. “I’m parched. I need a hot drink and a sit down.”

“Why don’t I take the kids to the beach so you can all sit and have a chat?” Michael suggests.

“It’s still raining,” Fenella replies, staring at the rain-lashed windows and looking doubtful.

“They’ve got waterproofs,” he counters. “They could do with burning off some energy anyway.”

Fenella nods her agreement and Michael disappears off to round up the children.

Black coffees that we never even asked for are plonked in front of us and Fenella absentmindedly pushes a bowl of sugar and a jug of milk in our direction.

“So, you want to ask what I know about Daniel and who might have murdered him,” she says, staring out of the window and sipping her own black coffee.

“Where were you on the night it happened?” I ask, fidgeting on the chrome breakfast bar stool.

“Here, at home with Michael and the kids of course. It was so awful to hear what had happened to him.” She pauses to take another sip of her drink. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised somebody lost it and went at him with a knife. Daniel was excellent at his job but a complete and utter liability in all other respects. It’s one thing to have an eye for the ladies but something quite different to be pestering and harassing the girls all the time. It made it difficult to keep staff. We talked to him about it but it’s like it went in one ear and out of the other. If we’d have had employment contracts for our flower pickers and packers then I’m sure that we would have been sued by now.”

“Why don’t you have contracts?” I ask.

She sighs and then shakes her head. “It makes things expensive and complicated plus in these kinds of industries it’s not uncommon for workers to be paid cash in hand and no questions asked.”

Jake finishes his black coffee and leans forward, elbows on the breakfast bar. “So, did you ever have any trouble with Daniel yourself?”

Fenella almost drops her coffee mug. “Me?”

“Yes,” I chip in. “There are rumours you and Daniel were quite...close.”

“What?” she gasps, setting her mug down and looking distraught. “Why on earth would somebody say such a thing? I’m a very happily married woman. Michael is the best husband a woman could wish for and we have two wonderful children and this lovely home.”

“So, you and Daniel never...” I venture.

“Look, whoever is saying such things is clearly trying to hide their own tracks and get you looking in the opposite direction. Who was it?”

Jake and I exchange a look before he says, “I’m sorry, we can’t tell you that.”

“I bet it was Avril!” she snips. “That girl is trouble with a capital T. As if I don’t know how she’s been flirting with my husband. I’m not stupid. I also know Michael has never strayed and she’s had her nose put out of joint because her behaving like a silly little tart didn’t work and she didn’t get the man she wanted.”

“I’m not saying it was Avril who said about you and Daniel but anyway isn’t she happily cosied up with Dimitri?”

“Huh! As if that would stop the little tramp!”

“So, you don’t know of anything that might help us with this case?” I check. “Nobody has come to you and declared war on Daniel if he didn’t leave them alone? No jealous boyfriend out to put a stop to his shenanigans with their girlfriend?”

Fenella looks thoughtful as she resumes drinking her coffee. Eventually she shakes her head and looks regretful. “I’m sorry, but no.”

We leave the house and head for the bed and breakfast we’re booked into. The storm hasn’t eased any – if anything it’s got even worse. We head into the only town on the island to discover it would barely qualify as a large village back on the mainland. There’s one street with a pub, a fish and chip shop, a combined gift shop and post office, a grocery store and a hotel. Not exactly a thriving metropolis. The tide must be high now as the waves crash over the promenade and wash onto the edge of the road.

The Beach B&B is tucked at the end of the road – quite literally, as the lane fizzles out into a sandy track heading for the dunes shortly after the entrance to our accommodation.

We’re greeted at the door by a friendly woman named Maureen, who helps us with our bags and welcomes us inside. After showing us to our rooms – spacious, clean and cosy – she invites us for tea and cake in the lounge. It feels like all I’ve done today is drink, eat and try to prise the truth out of unhelpful locals.

“Terrible business,” Maureen exclaims once we’re all seated and Darjeeling tea has been brewed and homemade carrot cake sliced and popped onto delicate china plates. “My husband Derek and I, we moved to the island to get away from crime.”

“Derek?” Jake says. “I don’t think we’ve spoken to him yet. Is he around now?”

“Oh no, dear. He’s at work. He’s the island policeman – and the postman and the traffic warden and he does shifts up at the airport too on security. That’s where he is now.”

“I’m sorry, did you say you moved here to get away from crime – and yet your husband is the policeman for the island?” I clarify.

“That’s right, sweetie. Had enough of dealing with crime he had but the job here was a way of getting onto the island. We couldn’t afford to retire just yet, so between us we get by. He does his bits and pieces of part-time work and I run the B&B.”

“Did you have much to do with Daniel?” Jake enquires before starting on his generous slice of carrot cake.

“Goodness me, no,” Maureen says, looking horrified. “Not our kind of person at all.” She lowers her voice even though there’s just the three of us in the room before adding, “I’m sure you’ve heard about how he pestered the youngsters. Dreadful, just dreadful. One of the ladies called my Derek out late one night to give Daniel a warning.”

“And what happened?” I ask eagerly, thinking we might finally be making some headway with the investigation.

“Daniel laughed right in my poor Derek’s face he did. No respect for the ladies and no respect for the law. Truth be told, I’m relieved the island will no longer be plagued by the odious man.”

We finish the delicious cake and drink our tea and chat with Maureen about the island, the terrible weather and what we’d like for breakfast the next morning out of the numerous options she reels off. After a while we make our apologies for ending our little gathering and head up to our rooms.

“Do you think she killed Daniel in a fit of anger over the way he treated her husband?” I half-laugh as Jake and I end the evening with a chat in his room, going over notes and ideas and creating our plan of action for tomorrow.

“Stanger things have happened,” he says, flicking through his notepad.

“So, really at the moment we haven’t ruled anybody out, have we? Avril or Mary could have had enough and stabbed him, as well as this mystery female that Maureen mentioned who called the police to warn Daniel off. Then one of the girls’ boyfriends might have lost it and stabbed him out of jealousy or trying to protect their girlfriends. Then Fenella or Michael might have got fed up with their rogue employee and decided the only way to be done with him was to murder him.”

Jake sighs and leans back on the cushions on his bed. “All true. Unfortunately. We just need to find a way to uncover who is telling lies and who is telling the truth. Is Avril being honest when she said Fenella was having a fling with Daniel? Is Fenella telling the truth about Avril being out to seduce Michael and then making up some story to try and cause problems in Fenella and Michael’s marriage?”

“Trying to carry out an investigation on a small island is more complicated than a regular investigation, not less so.”

“True. OK then, so first thing tomorrow we go and have another chat with Dimitri and see if we can trip him up on any lies from Avril to help us uncover what is really going on around here and who wielded that knife that finally silenced Daniel.”

The next morning – after a gargantuan breakfast – it’s as though we’ve been transported to another land. The storm has fled into the Atlantic and the sky is blue. The sun is blazing and the day already warm despite the early hour. Tourists who weren’t in evidence yesterday are now out strolling or cycling along the lanes or setting up chairs on the beach. In the space of twelve hours the winter had been replaced by summer.

I remove my jacket as we walk along the promenade of the ‘town’ towards the fish and chip shop, above which is Dimitri’s flat. Jake rings the doorbell and we wait. And wait.

“He’ll not be home at this time of day,” a female shouts across to us from the other side of the road. “Dimitri took his boat out fishing. In weather like this he’ll be out a good while too, making the most of the conditions!”

“Oh right, OK, thanks,” I reply with a grateful wave.

“What’s our Plan B then?” Jake muses as we head back to the B&B and the hire car.

As luck would have it Plan B jumps right out at us when we arrive at the B&B to discover Derek returning home after his night shift at the island’s airport.

“Morning,” he says with a wave. “You must be the special agents.”

We introduce ourselves and Jake dives right in with: “Your wife was telling us you were called out by one of the girls up at the flower farm to give Daniel Cosgrove a warning for un-gentlemanly behaviour.”

Derek frowns. “She really shouldn’t be going around saying things like that to all and sundry.”

“We’re not all and sundry, we’re investigating a murder,” I reply, surprised at his words.

“Yes,” he blusters. “Of course, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. Maureen can be such a gossip at times though and I suppose I’m really angry with myself for sharing details of that call with her.”

“So, who was it?” Jake demands. “Who was the woman who called you out?”

“Deborah Henson,” he replies.

“And where can we find her?” I press, eager to make some progress and crack this case.

“No idea,” he says with a shrug. “She left the island last month.”

Great. Our one hopeful lead gone, just like that.

“What now?” Jake says as we climb into the hire car and clip in our seatbelts.

I feel stumped. This investigation is not going well. It’s as though we’re just being led round and round in circles by the locals. Maybe they’re simply all covering for each other, protecting the community. Nobody liked Daniel Cosgrove thanks to his dodgy behaviour, so they think whoever killed him did the whole island a favour in a macabre sort of way.

“Any inspiration?” I ask, hoping my agency co-worker might have some kind of lead we can pursue, no matter how small.

“Nope,” Jake replies. “Tell you what, let’s drive to the other side of the island, there’s supposed to be this amazing beach there. Perhaps some sea air will get our brains in gear and help us decide what line of enquiry to pursue next.”

CHAPTER SIX

This beach truly is amazing. I stand and stare. Turquoise ocean. White sand stretching into the distance. Stunning.

“Wow,” I utter as I close the car door.

“Not bad, huh?” Jake grins.

After navigating the treacherous path down to the sand, we start to stroll towards the waves gently lapping at the shore. From the wet sand it’s leaving in its wake, the tide must be retreating now.

We walk along, discussing the case, the suspects and the way forward to hopefully crack this investigation.

Up ahead of us a woman is standing bare foot in the sea, lost in her thoughts. As we approach, I realise it looks as though she’s crying. After exchanging ‘what should we do?’ glances with Jake, I decide to check if she needs any help.

“Are you OK?” I ask cautiously as I approach her. She turns to see who is talking to her and it’s clear she’s pregnant – six or seven months at a guess.

She sniffs back more tears and wipes her face with the sleeve of her cotton top.

“Do you need some help with anything?” I press on.

“Nobody can help,” she snaps back, turning away.

Jake shrugs when I look at him questioningly.

“Can I phone someone to come and get you? Take you home maybe?”

“The only person I would want you to call has gone.”

I frown. “Gone where? Left the island you mean?”

It takes her so long to reply that I think she isn’t going to bother saying anything. “No, I mean he’s gone as in he’s dead.”

My mind immediately makes the leap to Daniel Cosgrove. Who was he to this sad young woman? A relative? A friend? The father of her unborn child?

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I’m so sorry,” I reply. “Do you mean Daniel?”

She spins round and glares at me. “How do you know Daniel?” she demands.

Slightly taken aback by her vehemence, I step away a little and wonder whether to be honest with her or see if I might be able to find out something more useful about Daniel and the investigation by not admitting who I actually am.

Eventually, honesty wins out. “I’m from an agency investigating his murder.”

This can go one of two ways – she’ll open up and talk or she’ll clam up and walk away – and I still can’t read the situation.

“I can save you a lot of time and effort,” she replies quietly.

“Oh?” I encourage.

“I know who killed Daniel,” she says with a fiery determination.

I edge a little nearer. “You do?”

“Fenella stabbed him. She’s a jealous cow who found out about me and Daniel and about me expecting his child. She flipped and murdered him. I know it was her.”

Jake, previously lurking further along the beach, now joins the conversation. “So, you’re saying Fenella was cheating on her husband Michael with the farm manager Daniel?” he clarifies.

The woman nods. “Daniel had been trying to end things with her for a while – ever since he fell in love with me – but Fenella wouldn’t let him go. She threatened to tell Michael some story about how Daniel had pestered her endlessly to have an affair with him. That would have cost him his job and we could ill afford that especially with young Danny on the way now.” She protectively runs her hands over her rotund stomach. “Now it’s ended up costing him his life, and our child will grow up without a father.”

“Can you prove it was her who murdered him?”  I ask, hoping that she can, and that we can quickly wrap this case up.

“No, I can’t,” she admits.

When we’re back in the car, we sit for a moment and watch as the girl, whose name we discovered was Claire Wilkins, continues her walk along the seashore.

“How awful,” I say with a sigh. “Her child will never know its father now because somebody murdered him.”

The pain, sadness, grief and loss all evident in Claire’s eyes and body language are bringing up old but equally painful memories for me. Of the time when I discovered Adam – my Adam – had been killed in the line of duty. The pain never goes away. Never.

I buzz down the window of the car and gulp in some soothing sea air, composing myself.

“You’re thinking about Adam, aren’t you?” Jake asks. We’re on the move, exiting the car park, but he dives into an empty slot and turns off the engine. “Want to talk?”

I dredge up a smile and turn towards him. “Thanks, but no.”

“It might help,” he ventures.

“It won’t,” I reply stubbornly. “Thanks for the offer though, I appreciate it.”

He starts the car up again and without another word, drives off.

“Do you think she was telling the truth about Fenella?” I ponder as we navigate the narrow lanes on the island, dipping in and out of farm gateways to let other vehicles pass, most of them cars but there are a few tractors in the mix too. “Or is it just a guess or perhaps her anger and frustration finding a voice?”

“Well, folk on this island seem keen on spinning tales for sure but that is two people who have now said the same thing about Daniel and Fenella being involved. First Avril, now Claire,” Jake points out.

“True.” I pull my phone from my jacket pocket and use the secure system to ask agency HQ to run a background check on Fenella. “We still need to talk to Dimitri again and as he and Avril are involved, there might be a fair chance of talking to them both at once.”

“Let’s try his flat again first, shall we? It’s on our way back across the island to the flower farm.”

I nod. “Sounds like a plan.” I’m relieved to be back in work mode, pushing aside uncomfortable emotion mode.

We arrive at Dimitri’s flat and ring the bell. This time he’s home and welcomes us inside. His name suits his appearance, stocky in build with short and sinfully dark hair and the colour of skin that more than hints at Greek ancestry.

The flat is actually more of a studio – a double bed is pushed into one corner, a sofa lined up in front of a flat screen TV and a tiny kitchenette with a breakfast bar and two stools.

“Hi, guys!” Avril chirrups from one of the bar stools. She’s wearing tiny shorts and an equally tiny vest top. Again. “Found who did away with Danny Boy yet?”

“We have some strong leads,” I reply rather stiffly.

She grins at Jake and winks.

“I don’t think I can help you out,” Dimitri adds, slumping on the sofa. “I hardly knew the guy and only ever saw him when he was hanging round the flower farm and I went to collect Avril from work up there or to help them out with stuff from time to time. Truth is, I’m not surprised somebody lost their temper and put an end to his shenanigans.”

 “Show them that photo you took on your phone up at the sand dunes,” Avril says to Dimitri.

He frowns and starts scrolling through images on his phone. “Don’t know if I kept it,” he mutters. “Oh, I did, here you go.”

Dimitri hands his phone to me.

It’s a little blurry but the two people scrambling from the sand dunes certainly appear to be Fenella and Daniel who I recognise from the agency paperwork for the case.

“See!” Avril sings. “I told you the pair of them were involved.”

Hmm. Seems she was telling the truth. So maybe Claire was being honest with us earlier too. Perhaps Fenella should be our number one suspect.

My phone buzzes with a surprisingly speedy response from agency HQ. Fenella has no record for previous misdemeanours. Not the reply I was hoping for.

We fire a few more questions at Avril and Dimitri and then head back towards the car as I update Jake on what the agency HQ people have said about Fenella.

“What now?” I brainstorm as I lean on the seawall. “This investigation is going round in circles.”

A seagull lands a foot away from us and eyes us beadily, presumably to see if we might have food it can pinch.

“What name did you give agency HQ to run that search on Fenella? Her married name?”

I nod.

Jake reaches for his phone. “It’s a long shot but let’s just try something...”

“Another surname?” I guess, turning to face him. “Her maiden name?”

“Worth a try,” he says with a shrug as he sends off the request and then tucks his phone away.

We stay where we are, enjoying the view and shooing off assorted seagulls keen to try their luck in case food might be on offer, and run through all our suspects. We’re just debating another chat with the local policeman to see if he might be able to supply any useful local knowledge when Jake gets a response from the agency.

“We could be on to something at last,” he says. “Fenella has a juvenile record in her maiden name. Two cases of assault, one of which where she landed a friend in hospital for pinching her boyfriend.”

“That sounds like Fenella might be the one then!” I exclaim, pleased to be getting somewhere at last. “She was having an affair with Daniel and discovered he was cheating on her with Claire and not only that, but Claire was expecting his child. Fenella flipped, lost it and stabbed Daniel.”

“Yes, she had motive and plenty of opportunity, but we don’t have any concrete evidence. We know he was stabbed and the murder weapon appears to have been a knife freely available at the flower farm, so it’s not specific to anybody but the actual knife hasn’t been found. So...”

Great. Just when I thought we might be about to crack this case!

“There’s no CCTV footage at the flower farm and the visiting forensics team from the mainland found nothing useful at the scene of the crime,” Jake says, making me feel even more fed up with our lack of progress.

I sigh and revert to staring out to sea. Then an idea pops into my head. “This is highly unethical and if you want to stay well out of it...”

“I’m in,” Jake says decisively before I can explain. “Tell me your plan.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

We arrive back at Dimitri’s flat and lean a finger on the bell so it rings out constantly.

“Hold on!” we hear him shout. “What’s the panic?” When he sees Jake and I on his doorstep again he adds, “Twice in one day, I must be privileged.”

“How do you feel about helping us catch a murderer?” I demand of him.

Dimitri looks at me like I’m crazy.

“I’m serious,” I add.

“Cool!” Avril grins, appearing at his shoulder. “Of course we’ll help.”

Dimitri does as we ask and sends the photo of Fenella and Daniel in the sand dunes off to her via a carefully worded text message.  

“Let’s see if this freaks her out,” I say as we wait for the message to hit its target.

It takes her less than a minute to respond to Dimitri.

“She wants to meet,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve never been involved in catching a criminal before.”

“This is so awesome,” Avril adds, draping herself around Dimitri. “I never did like Fenella. There was always something off about her. What do we do next?”

“Woah!” Jake interrupts. “That’s as far as you guys are involved. Thanks for your help but Abi and I will take things from here.”

Avril looks outraged but Dimitri simply nods. “Of course, yeah, it wouldn’t be safe. You’re the professionals.”

“You were a big help, honestly,” I say, trying to bolster them.

Sulkily Avril sighs. “Well, at least we can say we helped to catch a killer. Kind of.”

Dimitri pulls her into a hug. “Yeah, we did, babe.”

Unfortunately, as we used Dimitri’s phone for authenticity to send the compromising photo to Fenella, we have to now use his phone to arrange a place to meet up with her. Which, of course, means that there’s the potential for Dimitri and Avril to know where we’re going, and the risk they might try to follow us to continue their involvement in the investigation. We could reply to Fenella and then delete the conversation but if she comes back with any further messages after we have left, then we’re relying on Dimitri to let us know about them – and to also stay safe and keep away from the rendezvous point. Not ideal.

We arrange to meet Fenella on the beach close to town, but at the far end of it where there’s a rocky promontory. We have twenty minutes to get there before her and hide amongst the rocks so that she turns up thinking Dimitri hasn’t arrived yet and the sight of us doesn’t make her rush off home.

We have only just got ourselves in situ when we see Fenella walking down the steps onto the beach. She keeps glancing all around her and she looks nervous.

When she approaches the rocks, she checks her watch and then peers in our direction. “Dimitri?!” she shouts. “Are you here?”

Jake and I glance at each other and decide to stay quiet a little while longer in an attempt to ramp up her anxiety levels and keep her on the back foot.

 “What do you want?” she demands. “Money? I can get you money. How much?”

“I want to know the truth!” Jake says, as we eventually emerge from our hiding place in the rocks.

“We know you and Daniel Cosgrove were involved,” I chip in. “We also know his girlfriend Claire is pregnant with his child who will now be raised without a father. You killed him, didn’t you? You found out and you flipped and attacked him, but things went too far, didn’t they? You meant to scare him and try to get him to leave Claire. You never meant to actually kill him, did you?”

Fenella straightens up, pushing her shoulders back. “I did no such thing! OK, I admit, I was involved with Daniel but that doesn’t make me a killer! How dare you lure me here like this, pretending you were Dimitri! I shall be reporting you!”

“To who?” Jake says casually. “The one and only local policeman who wouldn’t know a crime if it happened right in front of him?”

“To your superiors then!” she replies. “I’ll speak to them and get you fired.”

Jake laughs, clearly trying to rile her. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Well, I’m going home,” she snaps. “You have no proof, so you can’t arrest me.”

With that she stomps back up the beach.

“Let her go,” I say as Jake steps forward to follow. “I have a feeling she’s going to give us the proof we need if we give her enough space.”

“Give her enough rope to hang herself, as the old saying goes, huh?”

“Yep.”

“She’s not going to do it, is she?” Jake sighs.

It’s eleven o’clock that same day and we’re once again hiding and waiting for Fenella. This time it’s cold and dark and just starting to rain. Perfect. Oh, and we’re lurking behind the hedgerow just along from Fenella’s home.

We’ve been here all evening and were hoping that she’d walk or drive somewhere that would give us the proof we need. Our theory is that now she’s been spooked and knows the net is closing in, she’ll go to where she stashed the murder weapon and try to properly dispose of it.

Unfortunately, things aren’t working out as planned.

“I’m frozen,” I mutter disconsolately.

“Want my coat?” Jake offers, ever the gentleman.

I smile and shake my head. “No, thanks anyway. I don’t want to be held responsible for you getting hypothermia.”

“Seriously, Abi, I’m fine, take my coat,” he replies, starting to unzip his waterproof. “You can put it on top of your jacket as an extra layer.”

“Really, Jake, there’s no need for you start stripping off on my behalf.”

Before the words are even out of my mouth I realise the double entendre. I meet Jake’s gaze and a spark shoots between us.

“I’m more than happy to strip off for you,” he says slowly, his eyes fixed on mine. “Any time.”

I catch my breath. This chemistry between us is growing more with each day we spend together and while a part of me is scared of the potential it has and is resisting my growing feelings for this handsome and amazing man, the other part of me wants to explore the possibility of a relationship with my lovely fellow CCIA special agent. Most of the time CCIA operatives end up working with different agents but for some reason HQ seem determined to always team Jake and myself up on investigations. It’s almost like they’re trying to nurture the chemistry, the aforementioned possibility...

“She’s on the move!” Jake says, thankfully breaking the moment.

Sure enough, Fenella’s car is just exiting the driveway further along the lane.

I so hope she’s going to lead us right to the murder weapon and we can wrap this case up and get off this island.

Jake borrowed a van from a friend of Dimitri’s so that we don’t arouse Fenella’s suspicion with a car following her along the quiet country lanes. We hop inside the vehicle and start to follow Fenella. From our positions higher up in the van we can see the headlights of her car snaking ahead of us through the narrow lanes. 

When the car stops and turns towards the island’s ‘town’ we ponder where she’s going.

“Maybe we got this wrong and she’s just going to the shop or something,” I reluctantly admit.

“Does the shop stay open this late?” Jake counters.

I brighten. “Probably not.”

Staying well back, we continue to follow her car and she scoots through the main inhabited area of the island before heading towards a rocky beach. She parks up and we switch off the lights of the van and stay well out of sight. My trusty night vision binoculars allow me to watch as she scurries around the car, retrieving a box from the boot and then heads towards the slipway to a cove.

A full moon flickers in and out of the clouds now that the rain has stopped. It provides some illumination but Fenella’s not relying on that as she secures a head torch over a woolly hat and switches it on.

“Do you think she’s got the knife in that box?” Jake says. “If so, she could be going to chuck it in the sea to try and dispose of it. A full moon means a high tide. Maybe that’s what she’s up to.”

“We have to stop her before she does and the evidence is lost!” I reply. “We’d better get out of the van and follow her in case.”

As we jump out, armed with torches, we make our way towards the cove. “Surely she wouldn’t have been crazy enough to hide the murder weapon at her own house though,” I add.

“We never searched the house though, did we? We had no legitimate reason to.”

“True.”

The clouds clear enough to let us switch our torches off once we’re down the slipway and onto the sand dotted with hefty rocks. Our eyes are quickly getting accustomed to the semi darkness as we scoot our way around the edge of the cove. In the distance the glow from Fenella’s head torch indicates she’s already on the far side of the cove and heading towards some caves. What is she up to?

This side of the island is being battered by the prevailing wind and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore are almost deafening. This is not a benign beach where children make sandcastles in the sunshine. This is the kind of beach that’s dangerous and sinister.

Soon, the intermittent sand has been completely taken over by jagged and slippery rocks. Fenella clearly knows this tricky beachscape though as it hasn’t slowed her down in her clandestine mission. It has however slowed us down as we navigate the unfamiliar and challenging territory.

“She’s gone into a cave,” Jake hisses at me as we try to search for firm footings while keeping an eye on Fenella.

“Maybe the knife is hidden in the cave,” I reply.

“What’s the box for then?” Jake bats back.

I pause to balance on a rock and think for a second. “Getting rid of a murder weapon on an island must be especially tricky. You can bury it or hide it and hope nobody manages to locate it or you could throw it into the sea and hope it doesn’t get washed back up on a beach or you can box it up and...”

“Post it off the island!” Jake jumps in, following my train of thought. “She hid the knife in the cave and now she knows we are on to her, she’s going to retrieve it, box it up and post it off the island on the boat or by air.”

Eager to prove we’re right, Jake rushes on ahead. Trying to keep up, I watch in horror as Jake slips off a huge rock and crashes into the stormy ocean. I only just manage not to shout out an exclamation which would alert Fenella to our whereabouts as I rush to try and find him in the dark and furious sea.

CHAPTER NINE

I kneel down to half-scramble across the rocks, trying to locate him in the water, my heart pounding, praying that he’s safe. The moon chooses this moment to dive back behind some clouds, plunging me into darkness. I swear and strain my eyes to try and adjust to the gloom, fighting to spot Jake.

“Well, well,” Fenella says behind me. “I wondered if you were going to try and follow me here.”

Damn. I was distracted by trying to help Jake and now she’s spotted me.

“Stand up. Slowly!” she demands.

The moon makes its reappearance and the light from it glints off the knife Fenella is wielding. Brilliant. So the knife was in the cave.

And now she’s pointing it at me as I balance precariously on a slippery rock as somewhere behind me Jake could be drowning in a tumultuous sea.

I fumble in my jacket pocket and activate the record button on my agency phone. Even if Jake and I don’t make it off this island alive then there’s a fair chance my phone may be recovered and the verbal evidence on it used to land Fenella behind bars where she belongs. In order to do that I need to get a confession out of her. Seeing as she’s the one in the strongest position right now, there’s a reasonable chance she may well admit what she did because she thinks she’s the one who is going to survive this situation, not me or Jake.

“So, you killed him in a jealous rage and hid the knife in a cave, thinking nobody would ever find it,” I coax.

“Daniel swore he wasn’t seeing anybody else and then I found out that little tramp was pregnant with his child!”

“Why didn’t you kill her instead?” I press, still needing her to admit she’s a murderer. “If you loved Daniel, why murder him?”

“Because,” her voice falters slightly and I know I’ve hit a raw nerve and her emotions are surfacing and she’s battling with them.

Which brings my thoughts crashing back to Jake. I feel sick and terrified that he might have met his end in the ferocious sea. I lost Adam and was finally starting to allow myself the possibility of a new relationship and letting my guard down with Jake and now – well, now he could be gone too. Why does the universe keep ripping men I care about from my life?

Focus, I tell myself. There’s a murderer wielding a knife in front of you.

“Because of what?” I shout above the sound of the waves.

“Because I could get my head around killing his girlfriend but not around murdering the child she was carrying,” she admits, her voice struggling now with the emotion threatening to swamp her. “So, it had to be Daniel I sought my revenge on, whether I loved him or not.”

So close to a confession. So very close. “So, you stabbed him.”

She nods, gulping back tears. That’s no good. I need her to say it out loud otherwise her confession is useless.

“You’re a murderer,” I shout, taunting her. “You killed the man you love!”

“Yes! I did kill him!” she cries.

A form of relief floods through me. If I die out here and so does Jake, we still did our job. We got a spoken confession and there’s a good chance Fenella will still end up in jail.

Suddenly as the moon makes another fleeting appearance, I catch a glimpse of movement on the rocks behind Fenella.

“Now it’s your turn!” she wails, lunging towards me.

It’s then that I realise she doesn’t know Jake was even here with me. She never saw him and must have thought I’d simply slipped on the rocks when she found me. Which means she’s not wondering where Jake is.

My heart swells with relief as my glimpse of movement is confirmed and Jake pounces out of the darkness and wrestles Fenella to the rugged rocks below us. I scramble over and as Jake restrains her, use my scarf to grab the murder weapon from her hands, ensuring her fingerprints remain on it.

We did it! We caught the murderer and both lived to tell the tale!

CHAPTER TEN

“I honestly don’t mind flying back to the mainland,” I say to Jake the following morning. “I think you’ve had enough of the sea after what you went through last night off those rocks.”

“Were you worried about me?” he asks, head tilted to one side and a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Of course I was,” I answer. “I was terrified something had happened to you.”

He nods, looking satisfied with my answer.

“In the panic of the moment, I forgot how strong a swimmer you are. Even so, with the rocks and the waves and...”

Jake steps forward and pulls me into a fierce hug. I don’t resist. I just wrap my arms around him, close my eyes and sink into the wave of relief that he’s safe.

Eventually, we ease apart. “I’m so glad you’re OK,” I say.

“Yeah, me too.” He holds my gaze for longer than usual before adding, “In that water all I could think about was you. I found the strength to swim round to the other side where it was more sheltered and I could climb out and make sure you were OK. I couldn’t accept leaving you. I know you’re not ready for a relationship and I understand that but there was no way I was going to leave you before we had a chance, one day, to try this thing between us on for size.”

I smile and a warm glow builds inside of me.

“The prisoner is here,” a voice says, interrupting us. “I will help you both escort her to the ferry or the airport.”

We turn to see the resident policeman taking great pride in delivering a handcuffed Fenella to us so that we can escort her to the mainland where she can be properly secured awaiting her trial.

“To the airport,” Jake says to him. “We’re flying back.”

To me, he lowers his voice and says, “You’re right, I’d rather avoid the ferry and the sea on this particular journey if possible. But I think we’ll hop on a plane rather than the helicopter this time, so you don’t have to endure another dicey chopper ride with the sight of the rolling ocean beneath us. Sound like a good compromise?”

I nod and slip an arm through Fenella’s to escort her formally to the island’s airport. “That sounds like a very good compromise indeed.”

THE END

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