George always responded well to flattery, particularly from a pretty young woman, Callie knew, and true to form, he was happy to answer her questions.
“The first body to be found was at Pett Level, on the day the boat capsized.” She told him and then detailed where and when each body had been found.
“No, that’s not right,” he said, the moment she told him about the body at Fairlight. “That couldn’t happen if he went in the water at the same time as the others. On the night of the storm, the winds were veering and that’s why they ended up at Pett Level, but after that, once the wind died down, the surface water travels east and the wind has been that direction, so it stands to reason, the bodies will too. All of ’em.”
“Even if this one got caught on something?” Callie queried, but George was adamant, body number nine should not have been found where he was. The prevailing winds and tides meant that it should definitely have been found further to the east.
Callie felt triumphant, her instincts were right. Body number nine did not fit with the others. Now she just had to convince the police of that fact.
* * *
Billy had a standing family commitment in the evening, and Kate was busy with a new man, so Callie thought that the night was going to be a bit of a non-event as well. Still, at least she would be well-rested and prepared for Monday − always a busy day at the surgery.
As she was already in town, Callie decided to brave the supermarket and do some shopping – always her least favourite chore. It was when she was coming out of the shop, wheeling a trolley full of virtuous fruit and vegetables neatly covering the wine and chocolate underneath in case she bumped into any of her patients, that Callie saw David Morris hurrying out of a convenience store up the road, carton of cigarettes in hand.
“David!” she called out and he looked up.
“Afternoon, Doc.” He sketched a wave with the hand holding the cigarettes, realised what he was doing and hastily put the offending articles behind his back. “Gotta go.” He tried to hurry past her but her trolley was blocking his way and she made no effort to move it.
“I saw you at the beach the other day, when I was seeing to that poor man who had died.”
David just grunted by way of reply.
“Terrible, isn’t it?” she pressed him.
“Yeah. Terrible.” He began to move round her, trying to escape, and Callie didn’t think it was just guilt that she had caught him buying cigarettes after a recent dose of bronchitis and a promise to give up smoking. His evasiveness piqued her curiosity.
“You seemed to be arguing with that councillor chap, what’s his name?” She thought for a moment as Morris didn’t seem inclined to help her. “Claybourne, that’s it. Peter Claybourne. You both seemed rather heated. What was that all about?”
“Oh, you know, just political differences,” Morris said unconvincingly, before finally managing to scuttle round her trolley and continue on his way towards where he lived.
Once home, as Callie put her shopping away, she thought about the argument. It had seemed something and nothing at the time, but Morris’s reluctance to discuss it had made her wonder if it was something more. It didn’t ring true that it was about politics, unless it was about fishing. The whole town seemed to get overheated the moment the fishing industry was mentioned, particularly if anyone threw the letters EU or DEFRA into the mix. With so many in the town relying on the sea for their livelihood, it wasn’t surprising, she thought.
Grabbing her laptop, Callie looked up the council website and searched for the councillor’s name. She was surprised to see just how much information was available to her. She could access his attendance record, record of voting and his register of interests on the site; so she set about looking at all of them. Unfortunately, the information actually included under these headings was relatively sparse. Councillor Claybourne had attended 70% of meetings, and was on a number of committees, including the cabinet and the charity committee. In fact, he seemed more active than a lot of his colleagues. His register of interests, besides listing the amusement arcade as a property owned by his spouse, just listed a number of charities that had him on the board and the church he attended. It was interesting to note that his wife owned the arcade but not unusual, it was possibly a tax avoidance thing, Callie thought. There was nothing to suggest why he might have been at loggerheads with David Morris.
Deciding that there was nothing more of interest on the website, Callie finally gave up. Earlier in the week, she had been craving a weekend with nothing to do, but there was no doubt that she preferred being busy. She yawned. There was nothing else for it, an early night it was.
Chapter 4
Next day, after another packed Monday morning surgery, Callie was debating with herself what type of sandwich she would get once her paperwork was finished, when she came across a repeat prescription request from Anna Thompson. The request was for a salbutamol inhaler, or rather for two inhalers. Nothing unusual there as Anna was asthmatic, but Callie seemed to remember having done a similar prescription for her only the week before.
A quick check of her records showed that Anna had indeed had some inhalers prescribed then, and the week before. In fact, she had got through far more inhalers than she should have for the last few months. Not only that, but Callie saw that
