Murder by the Sea Read Free

of Fran’s cat Balzac, an altogether more accommodating animal.
    According to the reporter, standing on the hard outside The Sloop, where The Blue Anchor could just be seen on the left and the mast of the Dolphin bobbing in and out of the picture on the right, an unidentified body had been spotted by holidaymakers on the far side of what was known locally as Dragon Island. The body had been brought in by the lifeboat, summoned by boat owner George Isles. The reporter turned to George.
    ‘’Tweren’t me, son, it were Jane over there. She spotted it.’ The camera swung quickly away from the reporter’s discomfited expression to where a young woman sat at a table outside The Blue Anchor.
    ‘That’s the person we saw speak to the policeman this morning,’ Libby told Sidney. ‘A holiday maker on your boat?’ asked the reporter.
    ‘No, she’m a local. Works for the newspaper,’ said George, obviously pleased with the effect he was having. ‘Helps me on the boat sometimes.’
    ‘Thank you, Mr Isles,’ said the reporter, ‘and now back to the studio.’
    ‘I wonder why they didn’t edit that bit,’ said Libby, realising that the interview had been recorded not long after they had seen the television van that afternoon. ‘Made the reporter look very silly.’
    ‘Who are you talking to?’ Ben Wilde appeared from the kitchen.
    ‘Oh! You made me jump.’ Libby put Sidney on the floor and stood up. ‘I wish you’d call out when you come in the back way. I was talking to Sidney.’
    Ben came over and gave her a kiss. ‘I did.’
    ‘Not until you got in here,’ said Libby.
    ‘What were you talking to Sidney about?’ asked Ben, going to a tray of drinks on the table in the window and pouring himself a scotch. ‘Want one?’
    Libby shook her head. ‘A bit early.’ She turned off the television. ‘We saw a television van in Nethergate this afternoon, so I was watching to see what had happened.’
    ‘Oh, that body,’ said Ben. ‘It was on the national news this afternoon.’
    ‘Really? I wonder why?’
    ‘It’s summer – the silly season. And it sounds as though this is a holiday-maker tragedy. That always goes down well with the public.’
    ‘Ben! That’s awful.’ Libby sat down again and lit a cigarette.
    ‘I thought you were giving up?’
    Libby scowled. ‘I object to being forced into it by the government,’ she said.
    Ben raised an eyebrow. ‘I would never have known,’ he murmured. ‘What time is this production meeting?’
    * * *
    ‘Never mind,’ said Bert, as he, Jane and George sat over a drink outside The Sloop. ‘At least yours will be an authentic eye witness report. Bet you your boss will put it on the front page.’
    ‘Ha! One in the eye for that bloody telly reporter,’ said George, stubbing out his cigarette.
    ‘Can we go inside now?’ asked Jane, shivering slightly.
    ‘You can,’ said George. ‘I’m having another fag.’
    Jane sighed.
    ‘So how did they get on to it so quick?’ asked Bert, taking a blackened pipe out of his pocket. Jane sighed again.
    ‘Media wire,’ she said. ‘I got on to one of the nationals.’
    Bert and George looked at her as though she was speaking a foreign language.
    ‘Ah,’ said George.
    ‘Well, you want to get an angle,’ said Bert sucking noisily on the pipe stem while applying George’s Zippo to the bowl.
    ‘That’s what I told my boss,’ said Jane. ‘An in-depth follow up.’
    ‘’Ow can you do that without knowin’ ’oo the stiff is?’ George was an avid viewer of the older-style American cop movies.
    Jane was silent for a moment.
    ‘Come on, ducks,’ said Bert. ‘Whatcher got in mind?’
    ‘I wondered about that lady.’
    ‘What lady?’ Bert raised his eyebrows.
    ‘The one George was talking about,’ said Jane.
    ‘’Er in Coastguard Cottage,’ rumbled George.
    ‘Mrs Castle.’ Bert sucked on his pipe. ‘What about her?’
    ‘She was involved with that murder last Christmas, wasn’t she?’
    ‘Oh,