“I take it you didn’t get picked for the team, then?” she said.

“He told me I don’t have enough experience for something like this.” Eric shook his head. “Effing nonsense.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“You’re up next,” Eric said to Taylor. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

Taylor knocked on the door to Killian’s office and waited.

“Come in,” DCI James shouted.

It was odd to see a stranger sitting behind Killian’s desk. DCI James sat with his hands clasped behind his head.

“Take a seat,” he said, “this won’t take long. I’m a great believer in first impressions.”

And in your own importance, Taylor silently replied. She was beginning to think her own first impression of the man had been wrong.

She sat opposite and waited for him to speak first. The DCI looked her up and down. His scrutiny made her uneasy.

“You look tired,” he said.

“I haven’t slept much since this all started.”

“And you’ll sleep even less if you’re selected to be a part of this team. Will that be a problem?”

“I want to find out what this is all about.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Good.” James opened up a file on the desk in front of him. “I see you’ve only been in this neck of the woods for a short time.”

“I came here in January.”

“From Edinburgh. How on earth did you end up in a Cornish police station?”

“I needed to get away from Edinburgh. My husband was killed in a car accident last year.”

“Right. And what makes you think you’ll be a fit for this team?”

Taylor still had no idea what to say. She was not even sure if she wanted to be part of a team full of strangers, let alone work for someone who could pass over her husband’s death with “right.”

“I want to get to the bottom of all of this,” she said at last. “Three elderly people have been killed in the space of a week. I’ve been here since the beginning, and I’ve been part of the enquiries so far. I know we haven’t found the answer yet, but I don’t think we can just discount all that work that’s already been done.”

James typed something on his tablet. “Do you have any theories?” He looked her in the eyes.

“One. It sounds a bit far-fetched but forty years ago, a wedding took place in Plymouth. Just four people were there, and three of them have died in the past week.”

“Go on.” James sounded interested. “Whose wedding? Who’s the survivor?”

“Alice Green. Both bride and survivor. She keeps bees in Polgarrow. It’s a small village to the south of here.”

“I’m aware of it.”

“The man found cut in half in the fishing net was Alice’s husband Stanley. Milly Lancaster was her maid of honour and Dennis Albarn was Stanley’s best man.”

“Interesting.” James typed away. “And you think there’s some kind of connection there?”

“I think it’s strange, that’s all. Four people attend a wedding forty years ago, then three of them are murdered in a week.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you.” James stood up and looked out the window. “Killian has a nice view from his office. What do you think of Jack Killian?”

“I like him. He’s a good DI. He’s fair and he gets stuck in. Everybody around here respects him.”

“Did you speak to DI Killian about this wedding?”

“Of course. He didn’t think there was anything to it.”

She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. She had a feeling she had just helped sign Killian’s death warrant.

“I see,” James sat down again. “This is how it’s going to work. I’ve always advocated the benefits of a small team. You’ve got to have tight lines of communication for a successful murder investigation. Obviously, I’ll be heading up the team and all decisions taken will be passed through me first. DI Jane Carrick will be joining us from Exeter — she’s originally from London and has many years’ experience. DS Paul Southern and DC Phil Brown will be recruited for the groundwork. All in all, there’ll be five of us.”

“Five?”

“Unless you’d rather not join us.”

“No. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

“Good.” James reached over and shook her hand. “Welcome aboard. Any questions?”

“Plenty.”

“And they’ll be answered in due course. Now get a good night’s sleep. You’re going to need it. The officers from Exeter will be arriving this evening. We’ll assemble back here at 6 a.m. for a preliminary briefing. See you tomorrow. At six on the dot.”

CHAPTER FORTY

Killian had already left for the hospital by the time Taylor re-joined DS Duncan and Eric.

“Is it me up next, then?” Duncan asked.

“DCI James didn’t ask for you,” Taylor told him. “I think he’s finished with the interviews. He has the team he needs.”

“So we’ve all been kicked aside?” said Eric. “This is bullshit.”

“I’m on the team,” Taylor admitted. “It seems I’m the only one from Trotterdown he wants.”

“You?” Duncan said. “And what makes you so special?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask to be picked.”

“You’ve been here five minutes.” Duncan’s face was getting redder and redder.

“It wasn’t my decision. James asked me a few questions, I answered them and he told me I was in.” She was starting to feel dizzy. She realised she hadn’t eaten anything all day.

“Congratulations then,” Eric said. “What are the rest of us supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Go home. Enjoy the weekend. I have to be back here at six tomorrow morning.”

“How many are on the team? How many of the Exeter snobs are going to be swarming around our station?”

“Only four, including DCI James. He reckons small groups tend to get better results.”

“Good luck with that.” Duncan said and stomped out of the canteen.

“Ignore him,” said Eric, “he’s just jealous. Well done. You’ll do all right. You do realise you’re going to piss a few people off around here, though, don’t you?”

She did. She’d realised it the moment DCI James had shaken her hand. She would be seen as a traitor. She had only recently started to be accepted at Trotterdown station. Now she would be the outsider again.

* * *

She drove the long way home, taking the coast road along the edge of the cliffs. She needed some time to think things through. On her left, the Atlantic was a lighter blue than usual. Yachts had already set out on their weekend cruises and sails of all shapes and sizes were flapping in the light breeze. She couldn’t get Eric White’s words out of her mind. She knew exactly what was going to happen. She’d hear muttering every time she set foot in the station. It was going to be like Edinburgh all over again.

Taylor suddenly remembered she’d run out of sleeping pills. She would need a good night’s sleep before the scheduled meeting the following day. She headed for Trotterdown centre and parked her car. Tourists ambled up and down the main walkway, apparently not looking for anything in particular. Youngsters walked in groups carrying bottles of wine and boxes of beer, no doubt gearing up for the weekend. To her relief the pharmacy was still open, but her heart sank when she saw a stranger wearing the pharmacist’s white coat.

“Afternoon,” Taylor said. “I have a prescription here. My name’s Harriet Taylor. I’m on the system. I’ve run out of sleeping tablets.”

The young woman tapped a few keys on the keyboard and looked up at Taylor through a pair of rimless glasses.

“Hmm,” she said. “This prescription has expired. You’ll need to speak to your doctor to arrange another one.”

“I can’t. My doctor’s in Edinburgh.”

“Then you’ll have to register with a doctor around here. You have to have a consultation first. You realise that these should only be used on a short-term basis?”

“I can’t sleep,” Taylor said much more loudly than she meant to. A few customers turned round and stared at her.