Murder Between the Tides

by Campling Michael

Alan’s step faltered, then he changed direction to join Dan. “Do you remember Edward?” he asked. “Edward Hatcher. We met him this morning.”

  Dan nodded. “Why? What’s happened?”

  “He’s just stormed out of the hotel in a terrible mood. He had a blazing row with Brian. I’m not sure what it was about, but someone slipped him a note, and it seems to have upset him. He barged in, blamed Brian, then he stomped off. Roz said he headed for the beach, and the tide’s coming in. I don’t think Edward knows the coast. He could easily get himself into trouble.”

  “You’re going to look for him?”

  “Yes. I want to make sure he’s all right.”

  Dan saw the concern in Alan’s eyes, and without hesitation he said, “I’ll help. Which way do you think he went?”

  “Roz says he took the nearest steps down to the beach. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  They hurried across the road, Alan leading the way, and a minute later they arrived at a wooden kiosk, its serving hatch firmly closed for the winter. Beside the kiosk, a set of steep stone steps led downward to the beach, and the narrow strip of bare sand was already much smaller than Dan had expected. The waves were small but coming thick and fast, racing up the beach. Dan and Alan paused to look along the coast, but Edward could’ve been concealed in any one of a dozen small coves, and he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Quick,” Alan said, and they climbed down as fast as they dared. Dan ignored the steel handrail built into the cliff’s face, although the steps had been made for feet smaller than his, and the stone was made slippery by a thin layer of sand.

  At the bottom, Alan said, “There’s a lot of ground to cover. We’d better split up. I’ll head back toward the town, and you take the other direction. But be careful. Keep an eye on the route back to the steps, unless you can see another way back up to the top, that is. It’s no good if we’re the ones who end up stranded.”

  “Sure. We’ll find him. He can’t be far away.”

  “Yes, but if you do find him, tread carefully. Edward was very irate when I last saw him, and I’m not sure how he’ll react to someone chasing after him.”

  “Understood,” Dan said. “Let’s go. If I find anything, I’ll call you.”

  They parted ways, and Dan broke into a jog, staying close to the cliff face. As he rounded a rocky outcrop, Dan spotted a tall young man, moving just as quickly as him and in the same direction. And from the young man’s shoulder dangled a camera; a camera with a long lens.

  Dan had noticed a few keen birdwatchers during his morning walk, but somehow, this man didn’t fit the mould. Rather than wearing waterproof gear in sombre colours, the man was dressed for an afternoon in town: a fashionable silvery coat that caught the light, mustard-yellow trousers and a pair of red canvas shoes.

  As Dan watched, the young man suddenly increased his pace, and Dan found himself matching his speed. There was something furtive in the way the man moved, darting forward then pressing his back against the cliff face. It was possible that he was trying to photograph an elusive specimen of the local wildlife, but Dan didn’t think so. Naturalists tended to keep to their hides or creep slowly from place to place, whereas this man moved like a predator. And that meant that his target was almost certainly human.

  The man ducked behind a ridge in the cliff face, disappearing from sight, and when Dan followed he saw that his instincts had been right. The line of the cliffs fell back to form a wide cove, and in the distance Edward Hatcher trudged along the beach, heedless of his surroundings, his head down and his shoulders hunched.

  The young man had seen him too, and he paused to aim his camera’s lens squarely at Edward. Seizing his opportunity, Dan dashed toward the photographer, the sound of the waves masking his footsteps.

  The young man was intent on his task, and he didn’t react until Dan stood in front of him. Then he flinched, lowering his camera and pressing his back against the rocks.

  “What are you doing?” Dan demanded.

  “Mind your own business,” the man snapped, twisting his rat-like features into a scowl. He was in his twenties, but he bore the scars of acne from his teens, and frown lines that hinted at an education from the school of hard knocks. But along with the powerful lens, he was sporting a Canon 5D, a pro-level camera, and as he sidestepped past Dan, lifting his camera to reacquire his target, he looked as though he knew what he was doing.

  He fired off a few shots then paused to glare at Dan. “Are you still here? What do you want?”

  “Why are you taking pictures of that man?”

  “Mind your own business. I’m working, all right?” He looked Dan up and down, then he sniffed. “Do you know him? A friend of Edward Hatcher, are you?”

  Dan held his gaze. A journalist, he decided, then he turned away, striding across the sand to catch up with Edward. Dan glanced back, but the journalist had gone. Perhaps he’d seen enough, but more likely, he’d seen the waves rushing in and retreated to a safer place; the sea’s salty spray would not have been good for his gear.

  Dan reckoned he had just a few minutes to retrieve Edward and guide him back to the steps, so he broke into a run, covering the distance between them in seconds.

  As Dan approached, Edward turned with a start. “You! What are you doing here?”

  “I was looking for you.” Dan jogged to a halt beside Edward, and the older man stepped back as though fearing contagion.

  “What’s going on?” Edward demanded. “Why are you haring after me like some kind of maniac?”

  “You may not remember, but I’m Dan Corrigan, a friend of Alan’s. He said there was an incident at the hotel, and he was concerned about you.”

  “Well, really!” Edward stood tall, straightening his jacket. “I’ve never heard anything so foolish in all my days. Incident, indeed!”

  “So, you’re all right, then?”

  Indignant, Edward stared at Dan for a moment, but then his expression softened. “Listen, I’m sure you mean well, but there’s no need to worry on my account. The whole thing was a storm in a teacup.” He smiled uncertainly. “I just needed a minute to cool down, that’s all. I needed some space, some fresh air. I ought to be used to Brian and his little jokes by now, but I’ll admit, I lost my temper. It was silly of me.”

  “What happened, exactly?”

  “Nothing much. Brian sent me a snide little note. It was all very childish, the sort of thing a schoolboy might do. But I’m afraid I let it upset me. His note hit a nerve, and I found it rather hurtful.”

  Dan thought for a moment. If what Edward said was true, then why had Alan been so concerned? It didn’t make sense. But Alan didn’t tend to overreact — quite the opposite — and when it came down to it, Dan would place his trust in Alan over Edward every time. From what he’d seen of Edward Hatcher, the man could be suave when it suited him, but his manner came across as forced and artificial: every word was chosen for effect, every mannerism executed as though perfectly rehearsed.

  “I see,” Dan said. “In that case, I’ll call Alan and let him know you’re all right.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry to have caused an upset. I dread to think what they’re all saying about me now. I expect Dominic is having palpitations. I’ll head back to the hotel and put everyone’s mind at rest.”

  “Good idea. We can walk together, but we’d better get a move on. The tide…” He pointed and Edward grimaced.

  “Oh dear me, I have been a silly fellow. It’s easy to see that I’m a landlubber.”

  “You and me both.”

  They headed back toward the steps, and Dan took out his phone, sending a quick text to let Alan know they were on the way. He kept half an eye on the nooks and crannies of the cliff’s craggy face, but no one lurked among the shadows.

  As if guessing Dan’s concern, Edward tapped his arm. “I say, you didn’t happen to see anyone following me, did you?”

  “There was a photographer, or maybe he’s a journalist. A young man in a silvery coat.”
r />   “I knew it! That damned paparazzo! He’s been dogging my steps for weeks.”

  “Really? No offence, Edward, but I thought they were more interested in TV celebrities and the royal family.”

  “If only. Unfortunately, it appears I’ve been added to the menu, and that young man has made it his personal mission to pursue me. He’s followed me here, all the way from Fulham!”

  “You live in Fulham? Which part? I’m from London myself.”

  “I have a pied-à-terre off the Fulham Road. It’s nothing fancy, and I generally find I’m undisturbed when I’m there. But that Fleet Street rat has ruined it for me.”

  “Why? What’s his interest in you?”

  Edward’s lips twitched as though he was having difficulty restraining his words. “I’m not supposed to say anything. There’s a project in the offing, but I’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement, and I’ve been warned in no uncertain terms what will happen if I let the cat out of the bag.”

  “I know all about NDAs,” Dan said. “In my old line of work, they came with the territory.”

  Edward perked up. “Oh, were you a lawyer? Perhaps you could help. You could send that young man a cease and desist letter or something of the sort. I’d happily pay for your time.”

  “No, I wasn’t a lawyer. I was a consultant on a lot of high-tech projects. A kind of trouble-shooter.”

  “Pity. Ah well, I suppose he’ll be lying in wait. There’s nothing for it but to ascend and face the music.”

  Edward suddenly looked tired, and Dan couldn’t help feeling sorry for the man. Whatever Edward’s faults, he didn’t deserve to be hounded from place to place, and he was obviously finding it a strain. That probably explained why he’d lost his temper; his nerves had been stretched to snapping point.

  “I can’t advise you formally, but perhaps I can help,” Dan said. “I could talk to the journalist, tell him to back off. I know enough legalese to make it sound official.”

  “You’d do that? He’s a nasty little piece of work. I’ve argued with him myself, but he’s like a dog with a bone.”

  “I’ll certainly try. I’m nothing if not persistent.”

  Edward brightened. “You could be my minder for the week. I was looking forward to this retreat, but it’ll spoil the whole thing if I can’t set foot outside without being photographed. If you could get that particular monkey off my back, I’d pay you a daily rate, plus expenses, of course.”

  “Erm, that’s an interesting idea, but I’m not—”

  “Please say you’ll consider it,” Edward interrupted. “It won’t be an onerous task. When I go out, you’d accompany me and keep that pest at arm’s length. I’m not expecting you to indulge in a fistfight, but you have a certain physical presence, and you look as though you can handle yourself. I dare say you can look intimidating when you want to.”

  Dan shrugged modestly. “I like to keep fit. I’m a runner.”

  “There you are then. Perfect. You’ve already proved that you’re a resourceful chap, and I know a bright spark when I see one.” Edward grinned. “You can name your price. So long as you can knock up an invoice, I can write the whole thing off against tax.”

  “I’d like to help.” Dan looked away for a second. He had difficulty seeing himself as some kind of bodyguard, but he needed work, and an opportunity had just landed in his lap. Sometimes, you had to take whatever came your way; you never knew where it might lead. If Edward wanted to pay him for his time, why not let him? After all, judging by the quality of the man’s clothes, he could afford it.

  But there was something holding Dan back. He looked Edward in the eye. “I could only work for you if you’re completely honest with me.”

  “Naturally.”

  “I’d need to know why you’re being chased by paparazzi. You don’t have to go into the details, but I need an overview. If I don’t like what I hear, I won’t be able to work for you.”

  “Fair enough.” Edward considered the matter, then he came to a conclusion. “Okay. My books have been made into a TV series over here, but I’ve never cracked the US market. That’s all about to change. I’ve been in talks with a top Hollywood producer, and after a lot of negotiations, things are finally heating up. If it comes off, the franchise will be worth a fortune. We have some big names on board for the cast. Household names. Hollywood legends. One of them, the leading man, invited me out when he was in London. We got along famously. He wants to know all about the books and the background to the stories. He’s one of those actors who like to get beneath the skin of each character, find out what makes him tick. So we met several times for a chat, sometimes over lunch and sometimes over a few drinks in the evening.”

  “And that’s when the paparazzi picked you up.”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Edward said. “My relationship with this actor is purely professional and above board. For him, it’s part of his job, and as for me… to be honest, I was enjoying a moment in the limelight, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous. But I wasn’t prepared for the price tag that came with the experience. The fame tax, that’s what they call it.” He shuddered. “All I can say is, it’s a beastly business and an intrusion of my privacy.”

  “I imagine it is.” They were nearing the steps now, and Dan glanced upward. The journalist was probably waiting for them above, lining up his next shot. Was Dan happy to be snapped alongside Edward? Was he ready for his picture to appear in the tabloids?

  It’s no skin off my nose, he decided. And the money would definitely come in handy. He shrugged out of his coat. “Here. Wear my coat. Turn the collar up to shield your face, but walk at your normal speed and keep your back straight. Hopefully, the collar will spoil his shot, but we don’t want it to look like you’ve got something to hide. I’ll go up first, and if he’s there, I’ll make sure he backs off. That’ll give you a head start, and once I’ve had a word with him, I’ll catch up with you. We’ll head back to the hotel together, and I’ll position myself between you and him at all times.”

  Edward smiled as he accepted Dan’s coat. “Excellent. It’s a little big for me, and it’s not quite my style, but it’s a good idea. I can see you’re cut out for this. I take it that you’re accepting my offer?”

  “Yes, for the moment. We’ll talk details later. In the meantime, are you ready?”

  Edward nodded firmly, then they set off, Dan leading the way. At the top of the steps, Dan spied the photographer skulking on the other side of the road. He was leaning against a wall and speaking into his phone, but as Dan headed straight for him, he pocketed his phone and raised his camera.

  “You can forget that,” Dan called out. “No more photos.”

  The journalist hesitated, but only for a split second. He sidestepped, aiming his camera past Dan. But Dan moved to block his view.

  The young man lowered his camera to glare at Dan. “Back off! Stay out of my way.”

  “I can’t do that,” Dan replied. “No more photos. The man has a right to his privacy.”

  “No he doesn’t. I know my business. He’s in a public place, and for another thing, Hatcher is a public figure, so what he does is a matter of public interest. You, on the other hand, are harassing me for no reason, so back off, or you’ll be the one who’s in trouble.”

  Dan’s only reply was a cold stare. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Edward was following the plan, marching away with his face hidden but his back straight. The journalist swore under his breath, then he took a moment to size Dan up. “What’s your game? You’re not personal security. I know the type, and you ain’t it.”

  “I’ve made the position clear. Stay away from my client.”

  “Oh yeah? Is that a threat?”

  “A warning,” Dan said. “You’re right, I’m not a hired thug. But I have a lot of contacts, and I know how to pull strings. I can make life difficult for you.”

  The journalist met his stare for a full second before he looked away. “Whatever.” He pulled a pack of cigarette
s and a disposable lighter from his coat pocket, and Dan took that as his cue to leave.

  “I’ll be seeing you around,” the journalist called after him. “A story this big doesn’t go away — not until it’s done.”

  Dan didn’t look back as he strode along the path to catch up with Edward. But the journalist’s words stayed in his mind. A story this big. That sounded like so much more than a few meetings with an actor. Had Edward lied to him? But he was so convincing, he thought. The more he considered Edward’s explanation, the more convinced he was that the whole thing was an elaborate fiction. After all, that was precisely what Edward did for a living.

  CHAPTER 7

  Dan paced the length of the hotel lobby.

  From a padded seat in the reception area, Alan watched him. “Dan, are you going to prowl up and down for the whole evening?”

  “No. Only until Edward arrives. Maybe I should try calling him again.”

  “You could try, but it looks like he’s not answering his phone. You must’ve called him five times already.” Alan checked his watch. “We’ll have to head out to the restaurant soon, so I’m sure he’ll be here any minute. And if not, he might’ve changed his mind about going out.”

  “Then why didn’t he let me know?”

  “He’s probably working; that’s what he’s here for. When I’m writing, I put my phone into airplane mode and leave it in another room.”

  “Belt and braces,” Dan muttered. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Better safe than sorry.” At a sound from the grand staircase behind him, Alan turned in his chair. “This could be him.”

  Dan paused to watch the stairs, and a moment later a small group bustled into view.

  Brian Coyle was engaged in earnest conversation with Tim Kendall, Brian gesticulating to add emphasis to his words, while Tim nodded thoughtfully, his hands behind his back. Behind them, Roz Hammond walked at Dominic’s side, the pair of them very close as they descended the stairs.

  Edward was not among them.

  Dan’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning at the notification on the screen. Earlier, he’d exchanged numbers with Edward, and this text message was from him. Dan opened the message and read: Go ahead without me. I’ll come when I’m ready.