Adam and Colin were holed up in the latter’s bedroom, one at the foot of the bed and the other in the hard-backed desk chair.
‘Do you think Keith was really looking out for Albert’s best interests or…’ Adam started.
‘Or did he suggest moving the body so that evidence is lost? We won’t know until we talk to him, but the police are going to be pissed either way.’
‘Surely a man with that gut has watched enough cop shows to know that the police want to see the body where the bad thing happened.’
Adam rolled the next steps around his head.
‘So, we need to talk to Keith next?’
Colin shook his head.
‘I think we stick to the plan. If we go straight to Keith, it’ll tip him off that we know something and who knows what he’ll do. I’ll go talk to Sophie and see what she says, and then you can go talk to Keith afterwards.’
‘Why do we need to speak to him at all?’
‘Because, if we don’t and he hears we’ve been talking to everyone else, he’ll know were onto him. We’ll simply be crossing our Ts and dotting our lower case Js, and then when the police arrive after this bloody storm dies down, we can tell them everything we know.’
Adam considered this, and found only one slight chink in the armour.
‘So, let me get this straight. You get to go chat to the fit blonde, and I get to speak with the overweight murderer?’
‘Apparent murderer. We don’t know for certain yet. And, think of it as a favour that I’m doing you. Helena wouldn’t like it if she heard rumours of you and another lady having a quiet chat in a locked room.’
‘And how would those rumours possibly get out?’
Colin shrugged his shoulders, but the die was cast.
‘Well,’ Adam huffed. ‘Off you go then. I’m going to try and get some more rest.’
‘In my bed?’ Colin asked. ‘I’m aware of your level of hygiene. Go to your own.’
Adam gave him the middle finger in reply.
Sophie Saunders opened the door with an air of inevitability. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and an oversized black turtleneck jumper was tasked with keeping her warm.
Having spoken to half the presenters already, it was unlikely their investigation was going to remain under wraps for long.
‘You here to interrogate me?’ she said.
The question sounded cold, despite the warm smile she had plastered on her face.
‘I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions,’ he nodded.
‘Sure, but not here.’
She grabbed a heavy raincoat from the back of her door and joined Colin in the corridor. Wordlessly, they walked down the stairs—Colin half a step behind—to the front door. The weather was still unforgiving, though Sophie didn’t seem to mind. She stepped outside, accepted the storm’s embrace, and marched up the path.
Colin swore under his breath and followed her, picking up his pace so that he could catch up with her.
‘Where are we going?’ he shouted, though the wind stole his words as they left his lips.
They retraced their steps from the night before. Before the heartache and the knife and the broken body. They walked past the graveyard, past the trees and eventually came to the small chapel. Sophie unhooked the snib and they went in.
The chapel at least offered shelter, if not warmth. Colin took off his jacket and threw it over the back of one of the two chairs in the room. The pitter-patter of dripping water seemed to echo in the confined space. Sophie kept hers on and slipped into the chair opposite.
‘Why here?’ Colin asked.
‘It’s the only place on the island with a roof aside from the hotel, and I can’t be there at the minute. I keep thinking about the body. Her eyes. Staring…’
She puffed out her cheeks and closed her eyes, as if the images had followed the pair on the breeze and invaded the holy space.
‘So, you’re trying to get to the bottom of what happened then?’
Colin nodded.
‘You know,’ she went on, ‘I’ve heard of the two of you. You’re like the north coast’s unofficial detective team. Where’s the other one?’
‘Sleeping,’ he replied. ‘It was quite a long night.’
‘I’m glad it’s you. I was hoping I’d get the handsome one.’
She cocked an eyebrow and Colin felt his face burn red.
‘So, what do you want to know?’ she asked.
‘Do you know Albert and Margaret well?’ he asked, knowing that it was a poor opener. He needed to regain his composure, ease himself in.
‘Well, obviously Albert was my boss, so I knew him well. Margaret, not so much. She never really came to the station.’
‘Was Albert a good boss?’
‘He was a great boss,’ she replied. ‘He was passionate about the music, about the station and about making sure everyone was happy. Which we all were until last night.’
‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ Colin said. ‘Can’t be easy to find out you’re getting fired like that.’
‘Especially…’ she started, though trailed off with a shake of her head.
Instead of jumping in, Colin waited, letting the silence expand between them. Someone had to fill it, and his money was on the one who talked for a living. If he was a betting man, he would’ve been celebrating ten seconds later.
‘Especially,’ she repeated, ‘because he had just promoted me to the prime-time slot. I was due to start in the new year.’
‘Is Keith leaving?’
‘Nope, he was going to take my afternoon show.’
‘Did he know?’
‘I’m not sure Albert told him, but I did last night,’ she shrugged. ‘Albert told me in confidence, but now that the station is closing, it doesn’t matter, does it?’
Colin tried to think about the wording of his next question carefully.
‘Why you?’
‘Why me what?’ she said.
‘Why did you get picked for the prime-time show? Dave and Gavin have both been there for longer, and Keith is nowhere near retirement age.’
‘You think because I’m a woman I had to cast some sort of spell over poor old Albert? That there had to be some sort of deficiency in everyone else? How about the fact that I’m simply more talented than all those other losers?’
‘That’s a good enough reason for me.’
‘You think I don’t know what the others say about me? That I must be offering Albert “something” in return for the promotions. Gavin was in jail, Dave is up to his eyeballs in debt, and Keith is well past his sell by date. Seriously, the dude has never played a single record from this century! To be honest, I’m surprised it’s taken this long for Albert to offer it to me.’
‘You’re angry with Albert?’
‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘I know it’s only local radio, but prime-time still means something. It showed that my talents were being recognised. You should’ve heard Keith last night when I told him that he was going to be demoted. He was fuming!’
She laughed then. A shrill laugh with no humour in it. The wind buffeted their cliffside haven, causing the ancient windows to rattle in their frames. Sophie looked towards the glass, her stare momentarily vacant.
Colin gave her a minute, before asking: ‘Do you think any of the others are capable of killing Margaret and stealing the necklace?’
He got to his feet while speaking. Their chat felt like it was coming to a natural end, and he was keen to get back to the warmth of the hotel.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Like I said, Gavin beat a man half to death. His job prospects aren’t exactly rosy, so I imagine a valuable necklace might come in handy for him. Dave is going to have loan sharks at his door soon. I can still picture the pound signs in his eyes when Gavin pointed the necklace out yesterday. And Keith? I don’t know about him, but, he really was furious last night. People do crazy things when they’re not thinking straight. Chuck in a load of booze and it’s a bad mix.’
‘Speaking of booze,’ Colin said. ‘You’ve taken your cat outfit off.’
‘A woman died. You think I’m interested in some loser bet? I’d rather show my respects.’
Colin nodded to the door, but Sophie shook her head.
‘I’m going to stay here a while. That hotel, man. The body.’ She shivered. ‘I’m going to spend as little time as I possibly can there.’
Colin nodded, thanked her for her time and left.
At the same moment as Colin asked his first question, inside the hotel, Adam’s attention was pulled from the television by something moving outside.
Something white was making its way along the path. At first, Adam thought it was one of the presenters, but when he ran through their costumes, a ghost was not among them.
He looked outside again. The figure was definitely draped in white sheets, and a black belt was fastened around the midsection.
And then it hit him.
The figure was definitely draped in white sheets, but the belt was not a belt. It was a pair of hands, clasped around the spectre’s waist.
Though, spectre was not the right word. Spectres aren’t made of flesh and blood.
All at once, Adam realised that Margaret Fernsby’s body was below the sheets. And was being moved against her will.
Adam pushed himself off the bed, grabbed his coat and sprinted to the door.