Bones Under The Beach Hut

Chapter Three

Carole was filling in the crossword clues almost as fast as she could write them down, when suddenly her rollerball ran out of ink. She tried pressing harder but the point only gouged holes into the flimsy paper. Oh no. She knew from experience that, however well the solving was going, she couldn't do it without seeing the letters.

She riffled hopefully through the contents of her tote bag for something to write with, but without success. She sat in frustration, drumming her fingers on the arm of her director's chair. Putting the crossword to one side and completing it when she got back to High Tor was not an option. When she was on a roll like this, she just had to finish the thing as soon as possible. She had to find a pen from somewhere.

A lot of people might have asked to borrow one from someone in a nearby beach hut. But not Carole Seddon. She always tried to avoid asking questions that offered the possibility of refusal. No, her first thought was to walk up the beach to find Smalting's newsagent and buy a ballpoint.

But before she put that plan into action, it occurred to her that Philly Rose and Mark Dennis might well have used a pen for something while they were in Quiet Harbour. It would be worth checking out the beach hut before taking the long traipse up the beach to the village. Perhaps on the cutlery shelf, in or near one of those neat plastic containers.

When she reached the back of the hut, she felt the solid surface give under her. She stepped back quickly and then gingerly probed at the carpet with her toe. Yes, there was definitely something that felt like a hole in the wooden floor.

She peeled back the corner of the carpet and soon enough saw what had nearly made her trip. There was a hole in the corner, spreading across two of the planks that made up the hut's floor. Its edges were black and charred.

Someone appeared to have lit a fire under Quiet Harbour.