Page 32 of Death on the Rocks

“I didn’t see it,” Marc told him. “But we also didn’t look too hard. Now I’m wondering if he might have hidden it somewhere.”

“Why would he hide his laptop?” Alanna asked.

“His camera had been stolen,” Marc said. “Or that’s what he thought. Maybe he was worried about security.”

“That makes sense,” PC Grainger said.

“Do you want us to have another look around his room?” Alanna asked.

“Yes, please.” He could go and search himself, but he’d really like to know the whereabouts of it as soon as possible.

They stayed on the phone and PC Grainger listened while they searched under the mattress and behind the bed, and in all the other nooks and crannies.

“That’s really weird,” Alanna said. “Where on earth could it be?”

“Maybe he had it with him when he went out that morning,” Marc suggested.

“We carried out a sweep of the surrounding area,” PC Grainger mused. “Nothing was found.” A laptop shouldn’t be too difficult to spot, either. “Thanks for checking his room,” he said. “If it turns up, please let me know.”

They promised they would, and he ended the call even more confused than he had been before.

Over a coffee, he sat and pondered what he knew, but couldn’t make sense of it.

He gave himself until the bottom of the coffee before he called the sergeant again.

“Anything turn up?” Sergeant Proctor asked gruffly.

“Not exactly. I couldn’t find anything incriminating in his belongings, but I noticed a lack of a laptop. I thought it strange that he wouldn’t have one, so I called Alanna. She confirmed he had one, and she checked his room again. It’s not there. She doesn’t know where it could be.”

“Right. So what you’re saying is, you have no evidence of anything? That’s actually a good outcome for your search.”

“How so?”

“Because with no evidence, we don’t need to do anything.”

“But his laptop is missing,” Flynn pointed out. “That’s a sign of something dodgy.”

“All you keep telling me is what you don’t have. I’m not sure what kind of policing you’re used to, but around here we build a case based on evidence, not a lack thereof.”

“Come on,” Flynn said, more fiercely than he’d intended. “You have to admit that something isn’t adding up here.” He had a nasty suspicion that Sergeant Proctor might dismiss anything Flynn said out of spite, regardless of whether he thought he was right or wrong.

“There is nothing to suggest that what happened to Mr Roth was anything other than an accident,” Sergeant Proctor said slowly, as though talking to a child. “So that is exactly how we’re going to treat it.”

Flynn stood and paced the room. “Can we please keep this professional? Put aside your feelings about me and look at this objectively.”

“That’s exactly what I am doing,” the sergeant snapped, then spluttered and coughed. “And I’ll tell you something about policing around here. It’s nothing like what you’re used to. It’s a quiet, peaceful place with good people––”

“That doesn’t mean you should turn a blind eye to a potential crime.”

“Stop and think for a minute, will you?” Sergeant Proctor growled. “What you’re suggesting is that Mr Roth’s death wasn’t an accident. You know what that leads to… a murder investigation. And what do you think a murder investigation does to a place like this? A place where most businesses survive on visitors to the island. Imagine what happens when all those holidaymakers decide not to visit because there’s talk of a murder. Even if it turns out not to be true, the bad publicity will stick.”

“You can’t be serious,” Flynn whispered, dropping into his seat.

“Don’t push this,” the sergeant said, a warning note in his voice. “If you think you’re on my bad side now, I should warn you that things could get way worse for you.” He paused. “Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Flynn said flatly, then hung up the phone, only barely resisting the urge to fling it across the room.

Chapter Twenty-One

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