Blood on the Sand
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Inspector Andy Horton's holiday peace is shattered when stepping out across an abandoned golf course on the Isle of Wight on a cold, grey January morning, he finds himself facing a distraught young woman with a gun in her hand, leaning over a corpse in one of the discarded bunkers. When she professes to be the dead man's sister and psychic, Horton's old adversary, DCI Birch, is convinced she is a mentally disturbed killer, but Horton is not so sure. Soon he is uncovering a web of intrigue that ripples down the years, and which someone is determined should never be revealed...
Duver. He didn’t want to think so but knew it was possible. Suddenly and unexpectedly a distant memory nagged at a dark corner of his mind. There was something here that had prompted it but no matter how hard he tried, whatever it was it refused to step into the light. The sound of vehicles approaching brought him back to the present. Birch had got here quicker than he’d expected. ‘When was the last time you saw Owen?’ he asked, bringing his mind fully back to the case, only it wasn’t his case.
every minute could count. ‘You’re now a very rich man,’ he said sneeringly. Danesbrook shifted nervously. ‘I don’t personally benefit.’ ‘No?’ Horton leaned forward and said in a soft low voice, ‘You inherit a vast sum of money. I call that a very powerful motive for ramming your car into an innocent woman and killing her.’ ‘I didn’t!’ Danesbrook’s restless eyes scanned the bar as though seeking help but the barmaid was reading a newspaper and the only other customers – two elderly men – were
Blood on the Sand 115 ‘Just our bloody luck.’ Uckfield swallowed a mouthful of beer. Horton agreed. Trueman continued. ‘Anmore is in debt to the tune of ten thousand pounds. He’s run up a lot of expenses on his credit cards and owes child maintenance for a year, but there’s no recent payments going into his account to suggest he was blackmailing anyone. I’ve got officers trawling through his customer records, and a list of his contacts and friends, but so far no one seems to have a grudge
Blood on the Sand 143 ‘Could it have been Anmore’s?’ Kate Somerfield said, ‘Charlie told me that his son often sailed to France. Perhaps Jonathan picked up the gun there.’ She had a point. Horton said, ‘Anmore’s boat is small enough not to draw too much attention from the Customs boys.’ ‘Why not simply register and buy a gun here or use one at a gun club?’ asked Cantelli, folding a fresh piece of chewing gum in his mouth. ‘Perhaps he didn’t want to be bothered with the red tape?’ suggested
or PC Ripley on the police launch moored five boats along from his yacht. Probably inside having 20 Pauline Rowson a cuppa. Horton didn’t blame them. It was Elkins’ friend who had loaned him this yacht until April, after Horton’s little yacht, which had been his home since Catherine had ejected him, had been set alight. Soon he would have to start looking for a boat of his own. He couldn’t contemplate living in a dingy flat even though he’d been told by Frances Greywell that it would be