Chapters (49)
- Cover
- Table of Contents
- Also by Graham Hurley
- LIMELIGHT
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- AFTERWARDS
‘His name’s Bullivant,’ I say at once. ‘Frank Bullivant. He’s a DI and he’s about to retire.’
‘One last job? Mention in despatches? Name in lights?’ Mitch laughs and scribbles the name on the back of the menu before glancing up again. ‘When I walked back yesterday, I was looking for tyre marks on the course itself, but we’re probably talking months ago. In any case, Harry thinks the vehicle would have taken a special route, keeping off-piste.’
‘Meaning Nathan was on board?’
‘Yeah. Or someone else from the golf club. What I did yesterday was concentrate on the fence, the one between the golf course and that coastal path. From where I was standing it was easy to see the taped-off bit, and you know what? Exactly opposite, nearly touching distance, the barbed wire had been replaced, brand-new strands where someone must have cut the original. Bullivant would have seen that. You couldn’t miss it. I’m assuming that’s what took him to the golf club in the first place.’
I nod. Mitch has developed a sudden interest in the menu but the last thing I feel is hungry. He suggests we put an order in, and he’s about to get to his feet, but I extend a restraining hand.
‘You remember Presley? The windsurfer?’
‘Yeah.’
‘He’s got a van.’
‘Yeah?’ Mitch sits down again. ‘And he’s with Beth, have I got that right?’
‘You have.’
‘She’s arty? She paints?’
‘Paints. Performs. Writes. Sends emails to Palo Alto. Anything to keep her in the limelight. This is a woman who can’t help herself. Show her an audience, and she’s on her feet.’
‘Interesting.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Harry had a couple of other things for me. He told me there was something strange about the coffin. In the first place it was really basic, just marine ply, strong enough to carry the weight of a body but light to carry.’
‘And the other thing?’
‘The inside of the side panels were painted. Not just a wash of colour, but figure work, patterns, weird hieroglyphics. Bulldog thinks they were modelled on the Pharaohs. Think pyramids. Think Cheops.’ He pauses, then checks the bar again. ‘What do you think? Hake or the veggie option?’