Flotsam and Jetsam

PROLOGUE

He had risen at three, well before the dawn came creeping. Time enough to prepare his porridge and drink his first dram of the day. The fact that he took it with hot water and a teaspoonful of Cascara Sagrada in the guise of a medicinal tonic for his bowels was his way of soothing his conscience and denying the fact that he had a drink problem.

With his tonic by his side he set about preparing his telescope to scan the horizon. The tide would have turned half an hour ago, making it a perfect time to see what fruits and treasures the sea had brought in.

‘I will take the Sea Beastie out later and check out the Cruadalach Isles. I am feeling in my bones that it will be a good day for beachcombing.’ He scratched his grizzled beard and glanced with a grin at the calendar on the nearby desk. ‘It should be today, at any rate.’

He sipped his drink then straddled the high stool in eager anticipation.

The darkness began to recede as the rising sun broke the horizon.

As usual the heaps of assorted seaweeds became visible. Then the rocks began peeping above the surf as the departing waters went out quickly. It was then that he saw it at the water’s edge, half in and half out of the water. It was long and light coloured. At first he thought it was just another piece of flotsam or jetsam. Timber from a crate or some sort of packaging. Then by the shape he thought it could be a dead seal.

‘Bloody hell! Why can’t they go and die on someone else’s beach!’ he grumbled, swinging his telescope round and peering through the eyepiece.

‘Jesus!’ he exclaimed, adjusting the focus. ‘That’s no dead seal, but it looks dead enough.’

Through the telescope he saw the naked body of a young woman lying face down, her long blonde hair ebbing too and fro in the puddle around her, the receding waters still playing over her buttocks and legs.

He straightened up and frowned as he pulled a ready-made roll-up from behind his ear and casually lit it with his old Zippo.

‘I suppose I had better make sure she is dead,’ he grunted to himself. ‘Bloody inconvenient, that’s what it is.’

He poured another dram, but omitted the Cascara Sagrada this time. He reconciled it with his conscience that this was not a normal occurrence so he would permit himself some leeway. He smoked and drank for a few minutes then stubbed the cigarette out and drained the glass.

‘Sorry, lassie,’ he said, rising and stretching his aching muscles. ‘One thing is sure: I can’t have you cluttering up my beach. You’ll have to go.’

He wheezed as he laughed. Then he felt a spasm of pain in his chest. It shot up into his neck and down the left arm.

‘And this bloody angina is inconvenient too!’ He groaned. ‘Oh not now! Not now!’

The pain tightened and he reached for his phone. ‘Must – get – help!’ he said through gritted teeth. He glanced back out of the window at the body and the effect of the receding surf. It was just as if a frilly white dress was being peeled off her to leave her naked body on the beach.

‘Damned – fool – of – a woman!’ he gasped. ‘Gah!’