Bones Under The Beach Hut

by Simon Brett

  * * *

  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?'

  'So all we can do,' said Carole grumpily, 'is to sit and wait for the next news bulletin.'

  'Oh, I wouldn't say that's all we can do.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I'm going to ring Philly.'

  'What a great idea. See if she's got any more information.'

  'I had actually thought,' said Jude with a hint of reprimand in her tone, 'of checking whether she's all right. The news about the human remains being found in the beach hut that she's only recently vacated must have been a terrible shock to her.'

  'Oh yes, fine. Check that she's all right, of course,' said Carole solicitously. But her tone changed as she went on, 'Then see if she's got any more information.'

  'I assume you've heard the news about Quiet Harbour,' said Jude on the phone to Philly.

  'Yes. It's horrible. It makes me feel ... I don't know . . . spooked out.' The girl did sound very emotional, almost as though she were in shock.

  'What, the thought that the human remains may have been under the floorboards while you were actually in the hut?'

  'Not that, really, no. As I say, I haven't been inside Quiet Harbour for about a month.'

  'You did say you'd been in to put down the carpet,' Jude reminded her gently. 'You said you went in there last week when you were walking the dogs.'

  'Yes.' There was a silence from the other end of the line, as though Philly Rose was trying to decide what to say. 'The fact is, Jude, that wasn't true.'

  'Oh?'

  'I only said it because your friend Carole was kind of badgering me about it.' Jude would make a point of telling her neighbour that. Philly had accused Carole of the same thing as she had - 'badgering'.

  Jude said nothing, waiting for the explanation. Which duly came. 'I haven't actually been in Quiet Harbour since Mark left. I just . . . somehow, I don't know . . . We'd been so happy there. It all seemed too ... I couldn't.'

  'So you hadn't seen the piece of carpet Carole mentioned?'

  'No. The fact is, I wanted Carole to take over the rental, not just because I needed the money, but also because I never wanted to see the place again. I don't take the dogs for their walk on Smalting Beach now. I try to avoid it.'

  'And that was because it contained happy memories?'

  'As opposed to what?'

  'Quiet Harbour didn't prompt unhappy memories? You and Mark didn't have rows in there?'

  'No.'

  'It wasn't in there that he told you he was leaving?'

  'No. Anyway, he didn't tell me he was leaving. He just left. That's what made it doubly hurtful.'

  'Well, are you sure he has left you?'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Are you sure Mark hasn't had an accident? If he didn't discuss leaving you, perhaps you should report him as a missing person?'

  'I know he walked out on me.'

  The words were said with such pained certainty that Jude didn't attempt to seek further explanation. Philly Rose must have had reasons to know that she had been dumped by Mark Dennis.

  'I suppose you should prepare yourself, Philly,' Jude suggested tentatively, 'for the possibility that the police will want to talk to you.'

  'They have already.'

  'Oh?'

  'Last night. Obviously they came to me as the person who was renting Quiet Harbour.'

  'So they didn't know you'd handed it over to Carole?'

  'No. And I didn't tell them.'

  'Why not?'

  'Look, I don't particularly like Kelvin Southwest - or indeed the little games he plays - but I'm not about to get him into trouble with his employers.'

  'You mean Fether District Council didn't know about the change of rental?'

  'I'm sure they didn't. It's just a little deal he set up privately.'

  'Right. But the police are sure to speak to Kelvin Southwest, aren't they? Since he's in charge of all the beach huts. He's bound to tell them about the handover to Carole, isn't he?'

  'Not if he can help it. He called me yesterday evening before the police arrived and swore me to secrecy about the arrangement.' Jude looked across her cluttered sitting room to her neighbour, grateful that Carole couldn't hear Philly's end of the conversation. It would have started up again all her anxieties about the legality of her using the beach hut.

  'And did you get much information out of the police, Philly?'

  'They were doing the questioning, not me.'

  'I know that. I just wondered if they let slip anything of interest.'

  'What kind of thing?'

  'Well, whether they had any suspicion as to the identity of the human remains that were found, whether the remains were of a male or female, how long they'd been there, that kind of thing.'

  'I
f they did have that sort of information, they certainly didn't share it with me.'

  Jude thought it had been too much to hope for. 'By the way,' she said, 'do you know if Smalting Beach is open to the public again? They can't keep the whole area as a crime scene for long, can they?'

  'No, it is open. When I was walking the dogs this morning I met someone who'd been down there. She said the row of twelve beach huts including Quiet Harbour is cordoned off, but the rest of the beach is open.'

  'And will no doubt, as the day goes on, gather its share of snooping locals, indulging their curiosity.'

  'Yes.' Apparently that idea was repellent to the young woman. She seemed to shudder as she spoke.

  'Are you all right, Philly?'

  'Well, as you know, I wasn't feeling great even before all this. And Smalting is such a gossipy area. With what's happened now . . .' She sounded perilously close to tears.

  'Would you like me to come round? I could do you a massage or—'

  'No. Thanks. It's sweet of you, Jude, but I'll be fine.'

  Philly Rose sounded far from fine, however. And after their conversation finished, Jude had the feeling that the discovery beneath Quiet Harbour had stirred some very deep dread in the girl.

  Kelvin Southwest's attempts to cover up the arrangement he had made about passing on the rental of the beach hut had clearly been unsuccessful, because within the hour Carole had had a call from the police. They understood she had been the first person to find the charred floorboards in Quiet Harbour and they would be at High Tor shortly to talk to her about exactly what she'd seen.

  There were two of them, a Detective Sergeant in very dressed-down plain clothes and a uniformed WPC. The woman didn't say much, and Carole wondered whether she was just there as some kind of regulation chaperone to her senior colleague. Or maybe to provide a compassionate touch should their interviewee become hysterical.

  Though Carole was far from hysterical. She felt very controlled as she recounted what she had found on the Tuesday when she opened up Quiet Harbour. She told the Detective Sergeant about her conversation with Philly Rose in the Crown and Anchor, and about her dealings with Kelvin Southwest. As she completed each section of her narrative, she waited for the Detective Sergeant to volunteer some comment or let slip some vital piece of information. But he was a pro. Each time he just finished making a note of her last answer and moved on to his next enquiry.

  Eventually, as he seemed to be winding up the interview, Carole had to resort to direct questioning.

  'So do you know yet how long the human remains had been under the beach hut? And indeed whether they are the remains of a man or a woman?'

  'I can assure you, Mrs Seddon, that when it is appropriate for such information to be released to the general public, you will hear about it in the news media.'

  'But I just wondered whether—'

  'I am sure a lot of people - particularly in the Smalting area - are wondering a great deal about what's just happened. I am sure the coffee mornings of Fethering are busy with gossip and speculation. But I would remind you, Mrs Seddon, that when an official police investigation is under way, we are not in the habit of reporting on its progress to anyone who happens to be interested.'

  Well, that was a fairly unequivocal put-down. And Carole hadn't liked the reference to 'coffee mornings', which seemed to consign her to the category of 'gossipy old woman who has nothing better to do with her time'. What spoilsports the police could be.

  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  'Look, this is very hush-hush,' said the voice at the other end of the phone. It took Carole a moment to recognize that the speaker was Kelvin Southwest.

  'Oh, really?' she responded without much intonation.

  'Yes. The fact is, Carole, that. . . well, I'm sure you will be aware from the news bulletins about the unfortunate discovery under Quiet Harbour.'

  'I think I'd have had to be bricked into a cell like some unlucky medieval saint not to have heard about it.'

  'True.' His tone suggested he wasn't used to people using that kind of analogy. 'Well, look, Carole, the fact is . . . the police are investigating the circumstances which may have led to . . . the discovery.'

  'I would be very surprised if they weren't. When human remains are found it is quite common for the police to take an interest. They would be failing to do their duties if they didn't.'

  'Yes. Yes.' The little man at the other end of the phone sounded awkward and rather wretched. 'Now, Carole, it's entirely possible that the police will want to talk to you about the discovery, since you were the one who . . .'

  'I would expect that, yes.' Some instinct stopped her from revealing to Kelvin Southwest that she had already been questioned by the police. Wait and see what he had to say first.

  'Well, look, Carole, there are certain things that in certain circumstances appear in one way, but in other circumstances appear in another light altogether, if you know what I mean.'

  'What on earth are you talking about?' Carole didn't feel inclined to make the conversation any easier for him. She didn't mind hearing the little worm squirming for a minute or two.

  'Well, erm, the fact is that while doing people favours is an admirable expression of all that's best in human nature, one doesn't necessarily want everyone to know when such favours are done.'

  'Are you saying that you don't want the police to know about you arranging for me to take over Philly Rose's rental of Quiet Harbour?'

  'Well, I, er . . . Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying.'

  'I don't see why the police should be interested. What you have done isn't criminal.'

  'No, I agree. It's not criminal per se, but if the information of what had happened were to get back, via the police, to my paymasters at Fether District Council. . .'

  'I think I get your drift, Mr Southwest.' It was a measure of his agitation that he made no attempt to get her to call him Kel. 'Hm, well, I suppose I could keep it quiet. . .'

  'I'd be very grateful if you could, Carole.'

  '. . . but then again I'm not sure why I should.'

  'Do you want to get me into trouble?'

  The answer to that was probably yes. The more she had to do with Kelvin Southwest, the less Carole liked him. But rather than replying to his question, she saw a way of using the situation to get more information. 'I would be prepared to keep quiet about what happened . . .'

  'Oh, thank you so much.'

  '. . . but I would want something in return.'

  'I beg your pardon?'

  'Oh, come on, Mr Southwest. I'm sure you of all people know what I mean. A favour in return for a favour? You scratch my back and . . . ?'

  'What do you want me to do?' he asked ungraciously.

  'I just want you to tell me how to contact the Smalting Beach Hut Association security officer.'

  'And if I do that you won't mention to the police about the arrangement I made over transferring Philly Rose's rental to you?'

  'You have my word on it. You tell me and I will not in the future mention anything about that arrangement to the police,' said Carole, choosing her words with scrupulous care.

  The security officer's name was Curt Holderness. Kelvin Southwest gave her a mobile number for him.

  He also gave her his own mobile number, 'Just so's you can warn me if the police start getting nosey about the change of rental agreement . . .'

  Arriving as a stranger to Smalting Beach on the Sunday morning you would not have known about the grisly discovery made there only a few days before. True, Quiet Harbour was shrouded in a sort of white tent and the rest of the row of beach huts was still cordoned off by police tape, but that didn't stop holidaymakers from continuing to enjoy themselves. A lot of the other huts were in use, extended families had set up little colonies surrounded by stripy windbreaks, and the air was full of the delighted screams of small children.

  Shrimphaven, the hut immediately adjacent to Fowey, was closed and locked up. Maybe the mysterious girl wit
h the laptop took Sundays off.

  Carole had feared that appearing back on Smalting Beach with Jude so soon would make them look like crime-scene ghouls, but that worry was soon dissipated. Though a few people walking along the beach might linger in front of the site of the macabre discovery, there was no crowd or unseemly rush. Smalting was far too genteel for that kind of thing.

  The previous evening, when they had decided to return to Fowey, Carole had suggested that it was her turn to provide them with a picnic, but Jude had demurred, suggesting that they should try the Sunday roast in The Crab Inn the following day.

  'It's supposed to be very expensive,' Carole had said.

  'Well, I'm sure we can afford it.'

  'But it's supposed to be very popular too. I'm not sure we'd get in on a Sunday.'

  'We'll find out when we get there, won't we? And if they don't have a table for lunch, well, we can just have a drink.'

  'You seem very keen to get into The Crab Inn, Jude.'

  'It's the only pub in Smalting. Could be a useful source of information. We might get into conversation with some locals. See what the gossips of Smalting are making of the crime.'

  'Ah, so you admit there is a crime now, do you?'

  'With human remains having been found it'd be hard for me not to, wouldn't it?'

  Carole had grinned with quiet satisfaction. 'So, Jude, if you admit there's a crime, you must also admit that we're engaged in another investigation.'

  The Sunday dawned another glowing June morning, prompting more mutterings about global warming from the doom-mongers of Fethering. When they arrived at Fowey Carole was surprised to find a brown A4 envelope tucked into the stainless-steel bar across the front of the hut's doors.

  'Getting love letters already?' suggested Jude.

  'Don't be ridiculous.' Carole slid her finger along inside the top of the envelope and produced a membership card and a newsletter. 'Ah, now I am a fully fledged member of the Smalting Beach Hut Association.