Murder by the Seaside

Murder by the Seaside Jackie Baldwin Also by Jackie Baldwin Dead Man’s Prayer Perfect Dead Avenge the Dead To Rhanna Baldwin Contents Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Email Signup Also by Jackie Baldwin A Letter from the Author Acknowledgments Prologue The woman blended into the shadows as she hugged the wall, her eyes intent on following her quarry. Where could he be going at this time of night? She’d thought she was the only one here. Was he brazen enough to meet his lover in the college? Rage flared inside her, causing a shiver of hatred and longing. She’d make him pay for this insult. He had cast her aside like dirt on his shoe. Ever since, she’d been biding her time. It was pitch dark up here on the top floor and all she had to guide her was the flicker of his torch ahead. Where on earth was he going? He was nearing the end of the corridor now. Her breath caught in her throat as she realised that he might double back on himself and by now she’d crept closer than she’d intended. If he caught her trailing him, she’d be humiliated. Turning to flee, she felt a draught of cold air prickle her neck. A door clicked shut and she realised he’d gone up onto the roof, taking the pinprick of light with him. The dark closed in with suffocating finality. All she could hear was the whisper of her own breathing. I should turn back while I have the chance. But she had to see with her own eyes. To douse herself in the petrol of his betrayal and set fire to any residual feelings she had for him. With renewed determination, she felt along the wall until she came to the door. Bracing herself, she opened it and slipped through. Hurrying up the last flight of stairs as quickly as she could in the dark, she slid through the door at the top and ran across to a chimney stack. She could hear voices raised in anger but, confusingly, both of them were male. This was no love tryst. It didn’t take long to realise the identity of the second man. She almost groaned aloud. What had she been thinking? She leaned back against the far side of the chimney stack, turning her flushed cheeks up to the stars. Her feet were numb with the cold. Could she make it back off the roof without being seen? Suddenly, the voices went quiet. A set of footsteps rushed past her, and she caught a glimpse of a receding back. The stars twinkled overhead, their beauty emboldening her. Her heart beating like a drum, she stepped out of the Chapter One Grace McKenna shrugged off her towelling robe and stood, braced against the wind on a chilly February morning. The waves danced towards her, spraying her face and sending icy shivers up and down her spine. She charged through the heaving water until it was deep enough to dive under the waves. As the numbness worked its way up her body, her arms scythed through the sea with mechanical efficiency. After a few minutes the acrid burn of salt water up her nose caused her to stop and splutter, her rhythm interrupted. Treading water, she glanced behind her, her body undulating with the waves. When she was lifted up, she could see the shoreline she had left behind, people walking their dogs like figures in a Lowry painting. Her teeth were now chattering relentlessly. She turned her back on the shore and looked at the horizon, feeling the pull of the tide. After a last lingering look at the swollen slate-grey clouds ahead, she turned again, put her head down, and fought her way back the way she had come, her powerful shoulders thrusting against the ebb of the tide until her feet hit the grainy sand of Portobello Beach. She always left her robe in line of sight with The Espy pub. Swooping down, Grace grabbed it and thrust her feet into her waiting sports sandals. Although it was on the fringes of the Scottish city of Edinburgh, Portobello still felt more like a town. The long expanse of golden sand running parallel to the paved Esplanade offered a range of chic eateries, bars and other businesses all fronting towards the sea, most with flats above them. It was particularly popular with dog walkers and, when it was warmer, Grace loved nothing more than to sit outside facing the sea, enjoying the antics of the assorted dogs with their owners walking by. Now, as she hurried up the beach at a diagonal, she felt a quiet satisfaction when she took in the newest sign hanging over the Esplanade. Fashioned from a piece of driftwood she had found herself, it was painted blue with silver lettering that spelled out The Portobello Detective Agency. Although she had only been open since the beginning of the year, business was already starting to pick up. Despite the cold of the February morning, Grace’s body was already on fire as circulation returned to her frozen limbs. As she opened the door to her comfortable flat above the