The Secret Path by Karen Swan (summer beach reads TXT) 📕

our only lead so far. I’ve taken down his initial statement.” McCall pointed to her notes, and I quickly glanced over them.

“It says here that he found the body on his way into work.” I wasn't really talking to anyone, in particular, just familiarising myself with the facts. Well, information at least.

Glancing up, I saw Sammy Davis in conversation with two constables. Not a fun conversation by the looks of things, but heavy and serious. I tried to size him up from afar before making any sort of move, deciding how I should play things. Good cop or bad cop?

He looked a fit young man. Exactly how you’d need to be for sailing, I suppose. The kind that most women would choose. The kind most men would choose to look like. Long-ish brown hair which doesn’t need gelling to within an inch of its life. Nothing like mine.

He seemed compliant enough and noticed me walking towards him straightaway, perhaps a little intimidated by the power I possessed.

“Sammy Davis?” I questioned and waited for a reply. He hummed agreeably, pulling his red waterproof jacket snug around his torso. After all, we had been standing outside for ages. I flashed my DI badge his way. “DI Cooper. I’m leading this investigation into Gavin Ellis’s death.”

Sammy nodded again, listening intently.

“I understand my colleague, DS McCall,” I pointed towards her, “has taken down your initial statement. Is that correct?”

“Yes, she did,” he clarified. “I’m not in any trouble, am I?” he added, looking increasingly worried.

“That depends. Did you kill Gavin Ellis?”

Sammy panicked at my last utterance and wasn’t sure how to deal with the ice-cold glare I gave him. It was my favourite technique. Intimidation. Swallowing thickly, I held the rather intense eye contact, eyes watering from the bouts of strong winds.

“I didn’t kill him, I swear. I found him this morning. I was in my way into work a-and-”

“Then, no.” I blinked at last, both eyes stinging slightly. “We’ll want another formal statement, as a precaution. We’re looking at a potential homicide here, and so far, you’re the only lead we have,” I explained abruptly.

Sammy breathed a sigh of natural relief. Misty air formed ribbons of vapour around his nostrils. Bad for business is a homicide. Take it from the team who knows.

“On that note,” I continued, “you’ll need to come into the station whenever it’s convenient for you to do so, preferably as soon as you can. We need as much information as possible, so we can crack on with finding whoever did this.”

Sammy agreed in appreciation, chiselled jaw tensing as he pondered. “I’d be able to come by today, after work. I close at five, though can’t imagine there will be anyone in today, not after this. It’s a terrible thing, nobody around here has ever seen anything of the sort. All the locals will be terrified.”

“Which is why we need to crack on. You identified the body as Gavin Ellis, when you phoned us this morning.”

My stomach rumbled quietly. A bowl of porridge would be heaven right about now. Running a hand through my gelled hair, I concentrated as much as possible on Sammy’s information.

“Yeah. Most of us down here would recognise him. Kind of the bad egg in town, you know. He and some other friends of his would always blast their speakers way too loud. Told them off a couple of times, they would drive my customers away,” he finished explaining, licking his chapped lips.

Teenage delinquency at its finest.

“His family, they live up in town. Just next to Asda, actually. The locals always see her in there, kicking up a fuss about something or the other. Makes you think, doesn’t it, whether he would’ve turned out differently if his family cared a bit more.” Sammy glanced towards our forensics team, glancing away respectfully when he spotted Gavin’s washed-up body again. He wiped away some strangely masculine tears.

“Not really, no.” I shrugged, delved deeper into my pockets, and found a stray mint. Bonus. “They’ll be expecting you down the station for five.” I wrapped up my inquisition, having sorted out all pressing issues which needed addressing down here. McCall jogged over in this direction, seemingly ready to leave too.

A man stood far apart from the rest of the locals, observing the scene in stoic silence.

“Gavin’s mum lives next to Asda.” I communicated with McCall.

“Classy.”

“I say we head there next. Break the news, before every channel in the Dalgety vicinity releases it first.”

As I hauled out a pair of old aviators I’ve owned for around fifteen years, McCall voiced her mundane agreement. “Sure. Nothing better to do. Beats sitting down for hours.”

“Quite fancy a Mars Bar too. Quick detour to the shops?” I spoke out loud, comedy keeping our day fresh and invigorating.

2

McCall tapped absentmindedly on the steering wheel, like she always does in situations such as these. The waiting games. Gooey caramel stuck my jaw together tightly, praising the marvellous ingeniousness of chocolatiers across our country. Being stuck in a car with a wannabe junk drummer didn’t fulfil the silent moment to honour my food.

“Ahem.” I cleared my throat purposely.

“Alright! Hurry up and finish,” she snapped, getting irritable. Crabbit 2.0 should be her nickname. McCall breathed in and turned to watch me. Harder than it sounds when confined between a small space. “I mean, who could have motives to kill Gavin?” she began. “He was only a teenager. Not long ago he would’ve been a toddler on a tricycle.” She bit a piece of loose skin in thought.

“A teenager with a criminal record,” I corrected. “That’s like walking around with a giant neon sign that says, ‘I’m here, come and murder me’.” I acted out the scenario, earning an exasperated eye roll from McCall.

“I suppose,” she agreed, retying her auburn ponytail. “His family are bound to know what Gavin was involved with.”

“A small puddle of water gets deeper when you jump in,” I said from experience, unclipping my seatbelt. My suit jacket caught on the door handle when