Bones Under The Beach Hut

The beach hut emperor of Fether District Council was dressed in the same uniform of polo shirt and shorts as he had been on Tuesday, but this afternoon he looked hot and bothered. He still greeted Carole with another of his roguish smiles, however, together with a hearty, 'Good afternoon, good afternoon.'

'Good afternoon, Mr Southwest.'

'Kel. Remember, you're Carole and I'm Kel.'

'Yes . . .' she forced herself to say it'. . . Kel.'

Their voices had woken Jude from her doze and she looked around blearily. Carole hoped her friend hadn't heard her using the word 'Kel'.

'And I am the bearer of glad tidings,' he went on. 'Because it's for you, Carole, that I have moved heaven and earth to get the repairs to Quiet Harbour done as soon as possible. In fact, I've just been talking to the contractor who's doing the job — someone local I've known for a long time. I put a lot of work his way and he . . . well, let's say we scratch each other's backs, just as I said it would give me great pleasure to scratch yours.'

Behind him Jude had clearly managed to identify

Kelvin Southwest from Carole's description, and she was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Carole tried to avoid catching her friend's eye, fearful of starting to laugh.

'Well, anyway, my friend the contractor has had a look at the damage to Quiet Harbour. He reckons it's only three boards that'll need replacing and not much more than touching up the paint on the outside. So he's just going to get his tools and he'll be starting the job straight away.' He gave her a wink, which fortunately Jude couldn't see, or that would have really set them off. 'So who says Kel doesn't sort things out quickly for his favourites, eh?'

'I'm sure nobody's ever said that, er . . . Kel.'

'Well, let me tell you, Carole, having moved heaven and earth for you, I could do with a little break. How would you like to join me again at The Copper Kettle?'

'Well, that's very kind, but I have just had lunch. And then again I am here with my friend.'

He turned around to where Carole indicated, apparently noticing Jude for the first time. She rose from her director's chair, grinned at him and said, 'I'm Jude.'

'Kelvin Southwest,' he responded, almost brusquely, then turned straight back to Carole. 'So . . . do you fancy something in The Copper Kettle?'

'As I say, I've just had lunch. I really don't want anything at the moment, thank you.'

'Oh. All right. Very well. I'll see you soon no doubt, Carole.' And, clearly put out, the little man stumped on his little legs up towards the promenade.

Carole now dared to catch Jude's eye and both of them burst out laughing. And Carole was faced with the amazing fact that she had finally met a man who fancied her more than he fancied Jude.

But the thought didn't comfort her as much as it might have done. After all, the man in question was Kelvin Southwest.

The Times crossword was a particularly tough one that day. Or maybe the wine and the distractions of the beach prevented Carole from giving it her full concentration. She kept looking over to see what was happening at Quiet Harbour.

The contractor's van must have been parked nearby, because he was back with his toolbox and some planks very soon after Kelvin Southwest's departure. He went inside the hut, occasionally reappearing to prop up against its frontage the roll of carpet and the floorboards he'd removed.

Then he came out empty-handed and talked on his mobile phone. Shortly after this Kelvin Southwest returned to Quiet Harbour — maybe the contractor's call had been to him. The two men went inside. It was some minutes before they re-emerged. By now the little man from Fether District Council seemed very agitated. He paced up and down as he too made a call on his mobile.

It was less than a quarter of an hour before the police arrived. Two uniforms in a patrol car. They joined up with Kelvin and the contractor, and all four went into the hut.

It was half an hour before the other police vehicles, which must have been summoned, started to appear. Some of their occupants began erecting white screens around Quiet Harbour, while four polite but firm WPCs walked along the shoreline asking all the holidaymakers to leave Smalting Beach.

Chapter Ten

Human remains. That was all that was announced on the local television news the following morning, the Friday. Police had been summoned to Smalting Beach in West Sussex following the discovery of what turned out to be human remains under a beach hut there.

The minute the bulletin had finished Carole went straight round to Woodside Cottage. Jude looked bleary and voluptuous in a floaty, yellow silk dressing gown, having just stumbled out of bed. Still, catching her at that time meant she'd got the coffee on.

'Did you see the news?' asked Carole.

'No. I'm still hardly awake.'

Carole relayed the minimum of information the television had provided. 'But it must have something to do with the fire,' she went on. 'If there were human remains in Quiet Harbour, then someone must've tried to set fire to the place to remove evidence of their crime.'

'What crime?'

'Well, murder obviously.'

Jude smiled indulgently at her friend. 'You don't think you're getting a bit ahead of yourself here, do you? Human remains don't have to be the result of a murder.'

'Oh, but in this case they must be.'

'Why?'

'Well, because . . .' Carole was nonplussed, but only for a moment. 'Because that's why there were new nails in the floorboards. The murderer had taken the floorboards up so that he could reach down to bury his victim in the sand and shingle underneath the beach hut, then he'd replaced them and lit the fire to destroy the evidence of what he'd done.'

Jude grinned in a rather infuriating way. 'Just a minute, Carole. I thought you were supposed to be the logical one in our relationship, and the logic in what you've just said contains serious faults.'

'No, it doesn't,' protested Carole, frustrated by Jude's atypical unwillingness to catch her enthusiasm.

'Listen. Let's just for a moment accept your unlikely assertion that there is a murder — and therefore a murderer — involved. Now he could have done one of two things. He could, yes, have taken up the floorboards to bury his victim in the sand and shingle under the beach hut. But if he'd done that, the last thing he would have wanted to do would be to set fire to the place. By doing that he would immediately be drawing attention to where he'd hidden his victim.'

'Well, I-'

'Oh, come on, Carole. If the fire had taken hold and Quiet Harbour had gone up in flames, whoever cleared up the debris would almost definitely have discovered evidence of recent digging and investigated that — and found the body.'

'So what are you saying?' asked a rather disgruntled Carole. She knew Jude was right and felt sheepish about having let her excitement outrun her logic. It was a very un-Carole Seddon thing to do.

'I would say that there are definitely two perpetrators involved. That the person who lit the fire was not the same as the one who buried the human remains.'

'I suppose you're right,' said Carole grudgingly. 'Oh, it's very frustrating not to have more information.'

'It's early days. At this stage I doubt whether the police have any more information than what's been on the news bulletin.'

'And even if they have, I don't think they're about to share it with us.'

'No. As we've found out before, they're funny that way, the police, aren't they?'