Inspector Jimmy Urquhart, new cop and new in town, isn't ready to be in charge of a high-profile murder case. But he is.
The sergeant got to the big double doors and pulled open the right-hand one. He stopped suddenly, his broad frame filling the door frame. Uquhart felt the hair rise on the back of his neck and he ran to be beside his friend. The others followed.
‘Oh, my God,’ said Sloan, who ripped open the other door and ran onto the deck of the pool.
There, in the centre of the water’s placid surface, floated the slim body of a young woman, dressed in the day uniform of a maid in the employ of Castle Clyburn. She was face down and her dark hair floated wide. The sergeant clutched the door with white knuckles.
Sloan kicked off his shoes, removed his socks, and dove in. It was a clean dive and Urquhart watched as Sloan swam, in just three powerful strokes, to beside the young woman. Sloan rolled her part-way over, then looked up at Sergeant MacDonald.
Two middle-aged women from the Barrachois army base die. Jimmy
and Notepad Urquhart are summoned to investigate – but on the strict
understanding there will be no hope of ever prosecuting the murderer.
This will be a Death in Secret.
A sunny, lazy autumn day. A bronze plaque, with the names of WWII dead, is being mounted on the city cenotaph. A chain breaks; the heavy plaque swings wildly and pierces the wall of the memorial.
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