‘Ask yourself, why?’ Amy said. ‘Why did it start with Chesney Collier in Brighton? Why visit a seaside resort to kill yourself? And if it is murder, where’s the motive?’ They were questions they had no answer to – yet.
Donovan had already gone ahead. Amy knew he was itching to return to his old team. Such ties were hard to cut in the police. Yet not so long ago, Amy had thrown the dice on her career, because Lillian Grimes had wormed her way into her head. How could she have been so stupid, risking everything she had worked for? All for the sake of a woman who was hell-bent on bringing her down. Amy had not forgotten her promise to monitor Lillian’s every movement. She could rest easy, knowing it was being taken care of in her absence. In her back pocket was a business card with Darren Barkey’s credentials. Both a private detective and ex-detective inspector, he had been hired by Amy to monitor Lillian’s every move.
‘Hey, listen to this Google review . . .’ Molly scrolled her iPhone screen. ‘Clacton has one of my favourite police stations. The general ambience of the cells with their barred windows, bed, toilet and doors is up there with the very best.’ She continued to read aloud. ‘After settling into the comfort of my cell, I examined in great depth the menu and may I say – extensive wine list. The Château Margaux was an excellent recommendation from the sommelier and accompanied the scallop perfectly . . . These are a hoot!’ Laughing, she scrolled further. ‘Here’s another one . . . They have a great cab service that drops you there, but they don’t drop you back. The staff are really good, with a wide food and drink menu. What’s more, it’s free. Thanks, guys, I can assure you, in my line of work, I may be visiting this great bed and breakfast again.’
‘Show me that,’ Gary replied, grabbing her phone.
‘Hey, hands off!’ Molly shrieked as she yanked it from his hands.
Amy rolled her eyes. She hoped that Molly would start taking things seriously when they reached the station. Paddy had volunteered to drive, with Amy, Molly and Gary accepting a lift, while Donovan and Steve Moss drove in their own cars. The day felt surreal as they took Saint John’s Road and headed into Clacton town centre. Amy tensed as they approached the place she had visited with Jack and Lillian Grimes as a child. It had taken her time to come to terms with her parentage, but at least now she could cope. Thanks to the recent documentary, Amy’s ‘special skills’ were in demand.
Sensing her disapproval, Molly quietened down. ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ she muttered, before pocketing her phone.
Amy turned to face her. ‘Best foot forward when we meet the team, eh? We’re ambassadors for the Met, and Carla’s colleagues are grieving.’ Amy knew there were plenty of older, more experienced detectives desperate to be considered for her team. But Molly was bright, hard-working and honest. She had a lot to bring to the table, and Amy was unwilling to let her go.
Molly stared through the window at the rows of shops and brightly coloured displays. ‘Ah, isn’t it lovely? Where’s the pier?’ She paused, the excitement leaving her voice. ‘That’s where that officer drowned, isn’t it?’
‘Which is why we need to be careful.’ Amy glanced back at Molly. ‘We don’t know what we’re dealing with.’ It would not be long before their presence was reported in the press, and that would lead to speculation about why they were there. It was only just gone ten, but the jingle of arcade machines filtered through the air as Paddy negotiated his Jag through the heart of the town. The streets were already heaving with holidaymakers taking advantage of the warm weather, and there was a lot of pale British flesh on show. Paddy gently pressed his brakes as traffic slowed. The sound of the amusements brought a wisp of memory into Amy’s consciousness: holding her father’s hand as they crossed the road, which took them from the pier to the main strip. The slap-slapping sound of her mother’s flip-flops as she tried to keep up. Her brothers and sisters trailing behind them, their faces sticky with candyfloss. Amy glanced out of the car window as thoughts of the past drifted through her mind. The place had not changed much.
‘Boss?’ Paddy said, and Amy realised he was waiting for a response to something he had murmured seconds before.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘What did you say?’
‘Will we go to the station or the hotel? Do you need to freshen up?’
‘Go to the nick,’ Amy replied. It was too early to check in at the Premier Inn. Besides, they were on work hours, and there was plenty to do. ‘The car park is a bit tight, so if you can get a space outside, take it.’ Officers often had more prangs with their cars in station car parks than out on the road. The last thing Paddy needed was a scratch on his paintwork. The tick-tock of his indicator signalled the end of the journey as he pulled up outside the station.
As they got out of the car, Amy stretched her legs. Molly turned her face to the sky as a pair of screaming seagulls fought over a crust of bread that they had scavenged from an overflowing bin. ‘Cool,’ she said, snapping a picture with her phone. It was as if she had seen them for the first time.
‘You’ve been to the seaside before, haven’t you?’ Paddy said, obviously thinking the same as Amy. Her face had been filled with wonder since she arrived.
‘Nope,’ she said. ‘First time.’
‘What?’ Amy’s face creased in disbelief as she stood. ‘Didn’t you go on holiday when you
