Bones Under The Beach Hut

'Probably not.' He anticipated her next question. 'And no, I didn't see anyone trying to torch the place.

If I had, I would have stopped them. Or if I'd seen the fire burning, I would have put it out. And then I would have told the police about what had happened.' There was a sharpness in his tone.

'There was one thing that struck me as odd about what I discovered in Quiet Harbour — well, two things, actually.'

'Oh?' There was residual hostility in the monosyllable.

'The fire that had been lit under it was deliberately put out.'

'So? One drunken vandal thinks burning a beach hut is the perfect end to an evening's drinking. His slightly less drunk mucker thinks it's not such a great idea. Or perhaps the original pyromaniac vandal had a sudden moment of conscience and doused it himself.'

'Hm.' What the security officer was saying made sense, but Carole still thought he seemed on the defensive. 'The other thing that struck me as odd was that the bit of carpet in Quiet Harbour had been laid down after the fire had been lit and put out.'

'And what's so significant about that?'

'Well, it might suggest that the fire and the laying of the carpet happened the same night, which was also the night that the human remains were buried under the beach hut.'

'Sorry, I'm not with you.'

Carole took in a deep breath before she embarked on her explanation. 'The carpet must have been laid after the fire had been put out, because there was no mark of singeing or anything on it. And it's reasonable to assume that the carpet was put down to cover up the fact that the floorboards had been lifted up so that the human remains could be buried under them. Then the boards had been replaced, some nailed back with new nails.'

'I still don't see why this all has to have happened on the same night, Carole.'

'It must have done. And I reckon it was probably the night before I first went to Quiet Harbour. Last Monday night.'

'Why?'

'Because otherwise you would have noticed the evidence of the fire when you did your inspection on the Tuesday morning.' As soon as she said the words, Carole saw a new shiftiness come into the man's eyes. She pounced immediately. 'You said you inspected the beach huts every morning and evening.'

'Most mornings and evenings. I mean, sometimes I have other demands on my time.'

'So how long could the evidence of the fire at the corner of Quiet Harbour have been there before you noticed it?' Curt Holderness looked even shiftier. 'Go on, how long?'

'Well, I suppose . . .' he shrugged '. . . up to a week.'

Their eyes met and immediately Carole understood exactly what the situation was in regard to Curt Holderness's job. He regarded it as a sinecure. Reginald Flowers had demanded a security officer for the Smalting Beach Hut Association and, using his usual old pals' act system, Kelvin Southwest had appointed

Curt, probably in exchange for some reciprocal favour. Thereafter Curt had just taken the money, lined his pockets with a few favours of the folding variety, and done the minimum he could get away with.

Carole was angry. She'd been getting a timetable of events at Quiet Harbour sorted out in her head, and Curt Holderness's revealed slackness in the discharge of his duties had made nonsense of it. With some venom she asked, 'And do you ever actually do night patrols? Or do you regard them too as more trouble than they're worth?'

'I do them,' he replied, stung by her accusation. 'Can't do them every bloody night, but I do them from time to time. I tell you, since I've been operating as security officer, there have been a lot less thefts from the beach huts. I just work my own way, try to avoid getting into a routine. Villains soon catch on if you stick to a routine.'

'So have you seen anything unusual during your recent night patrols?'

'Yes, I may have done.'

'And have you told the police about anything you've seen?'

The question amused him. His teasing manner returned as he replied, 'Ooh no, I wouldn't do that. I was a copper for so long that I know how their minds work, and the kind of questions they ask. And the golden rule if you're on the other end of their interrogation is: "If they don't ask, don't tell.'"

'Meaning what exactly?'

'Meaning never volunteer any information. If they ask a specific question to which you can supply an answer, then probably best to tell them. Otherwise keep schtum. What they don't ask about, they don't deserve to know.'

'You don't seem to have a very high opinion of your former employers.'

Curt Holderness shrugged. 'I don't exactly have a great nostalgia for the time I spent with them, no.'

'Is that something to do with the reason why you left early?'

That caught him on the raw. 'No, it bloody isn't!' he snapped. But he still managed to look guilty.

'Didn't the police find it odd that you hadn't reported the fire at Quiet Harbour?'

He looked away and took a swig from his nearly empty pint glass. Then he mumbled, 'No. Kelvin told them I had reported it.'

'Ah. Old pals' act working out again.' He shrugged. Carole continued, 'The police might be interested to know the truth about that. . .'

'Are you threatening me?'

'No, just thinking out loud.'

He looked even shiftier and not a little guilty. Though Carole had denied threatening him, that was the effect her words had had. She had him on the back foot, so she pressed home her advantage. 'You said you might have seen something unusual during your recent night patrols . . .'

'Did I?'

'Yes.'

She waited. Curt Holderness seemed to be going through some decision-making process. 'Look, if I tell you this, will you leave me alone?'

'Depends what it is.'

'And will you also keep quiet to the police about when I noticed the evidence of the fire?'

'Again depends on what you tell me.' Carole knew she was very much in control of the situation, and the feeling gave her a warm glow.

'Well, look, you know the couple who had Quiet Harbour before you did?'

'Yes. Philly Rose and Mark Dennis. Philly passed the rental over to me because Mark had walked out on her.'

'Mm, I heard some rumour about that.'

'And he's not been seen since the beginning of May.'

'Oh yeah? Well, one night when I was driving along doing my patrol — just after one a.m. I'd say it was — I saw him.'

'Mark Dennis?'

'Yes.'

'When was this?'

'Monday last week. Well, the small hours of the Tuesday, I suppose.'

The night before Carole had made her first visit to Quiet Harbour. The night when, quite possibly, the human remains had been buried there. 'What was Mark doing?'

'When I first saw him he was on the prom, then he walked down to the beach.'

'You didn't say anything to him?'

'Why should I have done?'

'As I said, he's been missing for a long time, since the beginning of May.'

The security officer shrugged. 'Not my problem. So far as I know, he hasn't even been reported missing. If a couple split up, that's their business. One thing you learn pretty quickly in the force is: never get involved in a domestic. So if this guy Mark wants to walk on Smalting Beach in the middle of the night, well, that's up to him, isn't it?'

'Was he doing anything strange? Did you see what he did once he got on the beach?'

He shook his head. 'I was just driving past, I saw him, that's all. But the thing is . . .'

'What?'

'He wasn't alone.'

'Oh?'

'He had a woman with him.'

'Philly Rose?'

'No, it wasn't Philly Rose. It wasn't anyone I'd ever seen before.'