Submerged
The mysteries of the English seacoast town of Blackpool linger centuries after its powerful founder died with his secrets. Newcomers Molly and Michael Graham are intrigued by the sinister curiosities of their adopted home, for though the picturesque waterfront shops are a haven for tourists, the locals keep to themselves.And most have something to hide….A preservation grant brings a massive restoration project to the marina, throwing the town into political turmoil. As Molly wades into the fray, a young woman is kidnapped, a thug turns up dead and a shipwreck is discovered in the harbor! The Grahams are plunged into a legacy of smugglers, betrayal and murder…and even deeper into the heart of Blackpool's most shocking and long-buried truths.
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“I need to see Detective Chief Inspector Paddington.”
The assistant pushed her glasses up with an index finger. “He’s busy, Mrs. Graham.”
“It’s critical that I speak to someone. You see, I found—”
“The D.C.I. will get to you when he has a moment, flower. Or you can return when—”
Molly couldn’t stand it anymore. “Can I use a phone? Please?”
The assistant gestured to a desk overflowing with papers and used foam cups. “You can use that one.”
Molly was quick to punch in the numbers. “Michael. No, I’m not using my mobile. It fell off the side of the cliff where I was hiking. I’d pulled it out to call you and the D.C.I., but I dropped it.”
“Molly, are you all right? You sound upset,” Michael said.
“I’m fine, really. It’s just… I’m at the police station…to report a dead body.”
Cast of Characters
Michael and Molly Graham—The young couple have come to Blackpool for a simpler life… Only, things in the small town are anything but simple.
D.C.I. Paddington—The stolid inspector has a laid-back approach to investigation—so laid-back that it’s fuelled rumors he’s only in Blackpool to bide his time until retirement.
The Crowes—The members of the Crowe family are reputed to have more secrets than they have money. And they keep both very well.
Dennis Carteret and Percy Lethbridge—The two men are members of the planning board for Blackpool’s harbor renovation—but they hadn’t planned on a conspiracy.
Rosamund Carteret—Dennis’s only child, and his world. The teenager lost her mother when she was very young, and Dennis would do anything to shield her from further suffering.
Francis Weymouth—He says his only ambition is to protect the environment, though he seems awfully cozy with the media. And very antagonistic toward Molly.
Rohan Wallace—The Jamaican émigré came to Blackpool to work, but lately he and Michael have become obsessed with the legend of Charles Crowe’s stolen gypsy gold. Is his interest purely recreational?
Greed, jealousy, betrayal, trickery, murder—secrets are the heart of Blackpool.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER ONE
MOLLY GRAHAM CAME TO a shaky stop in front of an old Victorian on Walnut Grove, steeling herself to go inside Blackpool’s police station. Except for the modest sign near the walk, a passerby wouldn’t have thought it anything other than a stately old house with a primrose garden in need of serious weeding. The white paint was peeling in places around the cornices on the second floor.
In contrast, the inside was completely modern, though nothing she would call “state of the art.” There was a drop ceiling in the main room, and fluorescent lights hung from it. The air was filled with the scent of lavender and Lysol, and an underlying acrid pong of cigarette smoke. Not that anyone could smoke in the building, but she knew that a scattering of officers and assistants did so elsewhere, and the odor clung to their clothes.
The assistant at the front desk—the only person Molly spotted this afternoon—was a petite woman who would have been forced into retirement years ago, had she been with a larger city’s police department. She looked at Molly through wire-rimmed trifocals, tucked a few wisps of iron-gray hair behind one ear and waited for Molly to speak.
Molly drew a calming breath. “I need to see Detective Chief Inspector Paddington.”
The woman pushed her glasses up with an index finger. “He’s busy, Mrs. Graham.”
Although Molly didn’t know the woman, she wasn’t surprised the assistant recognized her; Molly had her picture in the newspaper enough times, especially recently. She wished it had more to do with the grants that she had helped to secure for the town, but to Molly and her husband, Michael’s, dismay, their notoriety seemed to stem from a series of local murders and mysteries that they had solved—which brought Molly back to why she was here.
“This is very important.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“Please, can you tell him—”
“Is it a life-and-death emergency?”
“Yes.” A pause. “Well, not exactly, but—”
“Then take a seat, flower, and he’ll get to you when he has time.”
Trying to find some composure, Molly brushed her fingers along the edge of the desk. It was walnut, with a heavy lacquer on it, handmade by a craftsman and not mass-produced in some factory like the rest of the desks in the small department. She wondered if it had come with the house when the city bought it for the station.
“How about Sergeant Krebs? I could talk to her.”
“You could if she wasn’t busy, too.” The woman made a huffing sound. “They’re both occupied because of you, Mrs. Graham. They’re in a meeting about tomorrow’s big marina to-do.”
