Jordan Gray - Submerged

“I need to see Detective Chief Inspector Paddington.”

The assistant pushed her glasses up with an index finger. “He’s busy, Mrs. Graham.”

“It’s critical that I speak to someone. You see, I found—”

“The D.C.I. will get to you when he has a moment, flower. Or you can return when—”

Molly couldn’t stand it anymore. “Can I use a phone? Please?”

The assistant gestured to a desk overflowing with papers and used foam cups. “You can use that one.”

Molly was quick to punch in the numbers. “Michael. No, I’m not using my mobile. It fell off the side of the cliff where I was hiking. I’d pulled it out to call you and the D.C.I., but I dropped it.”

“Molly, are you all right? You sound upset,” Michael said.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just… I’m at the police station…to report a dead body.”

Michael and Molly Graham—The young couple have come to Blackpool for a simpler life… Only, things in the small town are anything but simple.

D.C.I. Paddington—The stolid inspector has a laid-back approach to investigation—so laid-back that it’s fuelled rumors he’s only in Blackpool to bide his time until retirement.

The Crowes—The members of the Crowe family are reputed to have more secrets than they have money. And they keep both very well.

Dennis Carteret and Percy Lethbridge—The two men are members of the planning board for Blackpool’s harbor renovation—but they hadn’t planned on a conspiracy.

Rosamund Carteret—Dennis’s only child, and his world. The teenager lost her mother when she was very young, and Dennis would do anything to shield her from further suffering.

Francis Weymouth—He says his only ambition is to protect the environment, though he seems awfully cozy with the media. And very antagonistic toward Molly.

Rohan Wallace—The Jamaican émigré came to Blackpool to work, but lately he and Michael have become obsessed with the legend of Charles Crowe’s stolen gypsy gold. Is his interest purely recreational?

Greed, jealousy, betrayal, trickery, murder—secrets are the heart of Blackpool.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

MOLLY GRAHAM CAME TO a shaky stop in front of an old Victorian on Walnut Grove, steeling herself to go inside Blackpool’s police station. Except for the modest sign near the walk, a passerby wouldn’t have thought it anything other than a stately old house with a primrose garden in need of serious weeding. The white paint was peeling in places around the cornices on the second floor.

In contrast, the inside was completely modern, though nothing she would call “state of the art.” There was a drop ceiling in the main room, and fluorescent lights hung from it. The air was filled with the scent of lavender and Lysol, and an underlying acrid pong of cigarette smoke. Not that anyone could smoke in the building, but she knew that a scattering of officers and assistants did so elsewhere, and the odor clung to their clothes.

The assistant at the front desk—the only person Molly spotted this afternoon—was a petite woman who would have been forced into retirement years ago, had she been with a larger city’s police department. She looked at Molly through wire-rimmed trifocals, tucked a few wisps of iron-gray hair behind one ear and waited for Molly to speak.

Molly drew a calming breath. “I need to see Detective Chief Inspector Paddington.”

The woman pushed her glasses up with an index finger. “He’s busy, Mrs. Graham.”

Although Molly didn’t know the woman, she wasn’t surprised the assistant recognized her; Molly had her picture in the newspaper enough times, especially recently. She wished it had more to do with the grants that she had helped to secure for the town, but to Molly and her husband, Michael’s, dismay, their notoriety seemed to stem from a series of local murders and mysteries that they had solved—which brought Molly back to why she was here.

“This is very important.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Please, can you tell him—”

“Is it a life-and-death emergency?”

“Yes.” A pause. “Well, not exactly, but—”

“Then take a seat, flower, and he’ll get to you when he has time.”

Trying to find some composure, Molly brushed her fingers along the edge of the desk. It was walnut, with a heavy lacquer on it, handmade by a craftsman and not mass-produced in some factory like the rest of the desks in the small department. She wondered if it had come with the house when the city bought it for the station.

“How about Sergeant Krebs? I could talk to her.”

“You could if she wasn’t busy, too.” The woman made a huffing sound. “They’re both occupied because of you, Mrs. Graham. They’re in a meeting about tomorrow’s big marina to-do.”

“It’s critical that I speak to someone. You see, I found—”

“I’m sure it is. Everything you do is momentous, isn’t it, Mrs. Graham? But I’m sure this is nothing that can’t wait, eh?”

Molly felt a surge of panic. “How about another officer? I don’t care which one, but—”

The woman shook her head and eased back from her desk. The glasses had slid halfway down her nose, and she pushed them up again. “The D.C.I. will get to you when he has a moment, flower. Or you can return when—”

Molly couldn’t stand it anymore. “Can I use a phone? Please.”

The assistant gestured to a desk overflowing with papers and used foam cups. The tag on it read Sergeant Merle Oates. “You can use that one…if it’s a local call.”

Molly was quick to punch in the numbers. She tapped her fingers on the only empty spot on the desk. “C’mon, c’mon. Iris? Put Michael on.” She drummed faster. “Michael? No, I’m not using my mobile. It fell off the side of the cliff where I was hiking. I’d pulled it out to call you and the D.C.I., but I dropped it.”

“Molly, are you all right? You sound upset,” Michael said.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just…I’m at the police station…to report a dead body.” Molly noticed the old woman quickly pick up her own phone. “I’m going back out there to try to figure out who it is and what happened. I should’ve done that right away, I guess, poked around, but I didn’t want to disturb anything before the police looked it over.”

“What? A body? Molly, slow down—”

“I didn’t get that close, but I think he must have slipped and cracked his head open on a rock. It isn’t an easy hiking trail, you know, even for a young person in good shape. Paddington’s too busy right now to deal with it so I’m going back on my own.”

“No, don’t go by yourself. I’ll meet you there. Where is it?” Michael asked.

Relief flooded over her. “It’s out by Jack Hawkins’s nose. See you soon, love.”

Molly raced out the front door, feet flying down the steps. She slid into her car just as D.C.I. Paddington and Sergeant Krebs ran out a side door.