A Body of Water: A Black Beacons Murder Mystery (DCI Evan Warlow Crime Thriller Book 8) by Rhys Dylan

Author:Rhys Dylan [Dylan, Rhys]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wyrmwood Books
Published: 2023-06-12T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Warlow took Catrin’s call on his way in to work the next morning and listened while she told him all about what she’d learnt the previous evening. He agreed with her they should revisit the Airbnb and said he’d meet her and Rhys up there. It meant adding another hour to his commute, but he got there a little after nine to find a car parked outside the little hut. He pulled his Jeep in behind and got out.

Both the Audi’s doors opened at the same time and Catrin and Rhys exited, the DC from the driver’s side. If he’d driven, it meant that Catrin had been working on the way up. The only way she’d ever concede driving duties to her younger colleague usually. Catrin was her own woman.

‘Morning, sir,’ they said in unison.

‘You practised that duet on the way up, did you?’ Warlow asked.

‘Nah. Great minds, sir,’ Rhys said.

‘Where?’ Warlow did a quick three-sixty.

‘Ha, ha, sir. Good one.’ Rhys grinned.

‘Any trouble getting the key?’ Warlow turned to Catrin.

‘No. The cleaner said she came up here on Saturday morning and the women had not arrived by midday.’

‘But you say the owner had confirmation later that night?’

Catrin nodded.

Warlow turned again to look at the hut. Yesterday’s sunshine had long gone, and an off-white blanket of cloud covered the sky. A thin wind cut through the gap between two buttons on his shirt and found skin. ‘Right, let’s see what we have here. Gloves and overshoes, just in case.’

Catrin stuck the key in the double doors. They slid open smoothly. Inside was tasteful, as the glimpse Warlow had stolen through the chink in the curtains previously promised. A sweater on the bed, bags on the floor. Catrin moved across to the only other room.

‘Tiny bathroom, sir. Empty. Looks like they hadn’t even unpacked.’

‘Nothing’s changed from when Rhys and I called here two days ago. Wherever it is they’ve gone to, they haven’t been back here.’

‘They must have driven, then, sir,’ Rhys said.

‘Good point. Where is their car?’

‘Sir,’ Catrin called to them. She stood next to the kitchen work surface and pointing to a couple of bags. One a small backpack, only six or so inches across, the other a handbag in red leather. Again, not large.

‘They’ve gone without their accoutrements,’ Warlow said in a low voice.

‘Should I, sir?’ Catrin asked.

‘You should,’ Warlow responded.

Catrin opened the red bag. Inside nestled a purse. Inside that, a collection of credit cards, some paper money and coins and a driver’s licence. ‘Nola O’Brien, sir.’ Catrin turned the bag over. Tucked into a side pocket was a phone. She took it out and held it up. She pressed the power button. It lit up, showing an image of a woman sitting on a chair near a stunning view of a lake. Then the DS turned her attention to the little rucksack. Inside that was a smaller purse with cards and a driver’s licence issued to Lucy Pargeter. But no phone.

‘Why would Nola O’Brien go out without her phone?’ Rhys asked.

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