Page 54 of Death on the Rocks

“Scilly police station.” He answered the phone with his usual greeting.

“You’ve been trying to call me,” the female voice said. “I don’t answer the phone when there’s no caller ID, and in your message you said you were a police constable, so there was really no way I was going to call you back.”

“Sorry,” Flynn said. “Can I take your name?”

“Rachel Roth,” she replied. “I guess you were calling to tell me that my brother’s dead, but I know that now because I read it on social media.”

Grimacing, Flynn leaned on the desk. “I’m very sorry you found out that way,” he began, softening his tone. “And I’m very sorry for your loss. I know this must be an excruciating time for you, and if I can help in any way, I will.”

“Thanks. I do have some questions.”

“Of course. If you’d like, I can talk you through what happened to your brother?”

“He slipped and fell off a cliff, right?”

“Yes, that appears to be the case. He was found on a patch of rocks by the sea. There were higher rocks around him that we assume he fell from.” He thought about Lily’s suspicions and wondered if she was right that it wasn’t merely an accident. “It had been raining, so the rocks were slippery…” He took a deep breath, unsure of his next move. Should he suggest it might not have been an accident? If the next of kin requested further investigation, that would scupper Sergeant Proctor’s resistance. “As I said, we assume he fell while he was out for a walk, but there would be the option of a post-mortem and further investigation if you requested it.”

“I don’t care about that,” she said.

“Of course.” He berated himself for being insensitive. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, her voice clipped. “I just don’t care. I wasn’t surprised to hear he’s dead. I’m only surprised he lasted this long. Though they say only the good die young, so at that rate he should have lived to a ripe old age.”

Flynn’s eyes widened, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times without finding any words.

“What I want to know,” she said, “is what happens to his stuff? Our parents are both dead, so that makes me his next of kin, doesn’t it?”

Shocked at the turn of the conversation, Flynn took a moment to respond. “Yes,” he said.

“He borrowed five hundred quid from me. Years ago, it was. But he never paid it back. He laughed at me whenever I asked for it, but I know he’s just bought a fancy flat and a new car. Raking it in, he was. So I want to know how I get my money back. And if I get all his stuff and all his money. I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but I’m thinking that having him as a brother might finally pay off.”

“I take it you and your brother weren’t close?” The question felt redundant, but he asked it anyway.

A burst of laughter hit his ears, then faded quickly. “If I’m his next of kin, that doesn’t matter, does it? I can still get his money even if we didn’t get on?” She sounded genuinely concerned for the first time in the conversation.

“I’m afraid I can’t advise you about inheritance details.”

“Can you just tell me if I’ll be the one who inherits?”

He frowned. “If you are the next of kin, and he doesn’t have a will stating otherwise, then it seems likely that you would inherit.”

“Bloody hell, what if he’s written a will saying I can’t have it? Surely I can still get the money he owes me?”

“I really couldn’t say.”

“Well, how do I find out? Who do I have to talk to?”

After advising her of her best course of action, Flynn ended the call feeling even more conflicted. On the one hand, he felt more and more certain that further investigation was warranted. On the other hand, the safer course of action for his career would be to keep his head down and not make waves.

He was still mulling over his options when Sergeant Proctor staggered in half an hour later. His pale skin and the fact that it looked as though it was an effort for him to hold himself upright gave the impression he really shouldn’t be back at work. But he also wasn’t in uniform, so Flynn assumed he wouldn’t be staying for long.

“How’s everything here?” he asked, heaving in wheezing breaths once he’d dropped into a chair.

“Fine,” Flynn replied. “How are you feeling?”

“Rough. I’ve got a chest infection, but the doctor just prescribed a course of antibiotics, so I expect that’ll clear things up quickly.”

“Good.”

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