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Plymouth had far more to offer than either Tavistock or Liskeard. After being told by the receptionist in the registrar’s office that his request would take a couple of hours to process, Slim found his way up to Plymouth Hoe, where he resisted a sharp wind to gaze out at Drake’s Sound. Far out in the English Channel, a couple of container ships moved on what looked like a collision course, the distances between them skewed by their relative sizes and the choppy expanse of grey water. Slim, dressed in a brand new jacket he felt becoming of his status as a private investigator and wearing a woolen beanie hat which definitely wasn’t, only now understood the pervading sense of claustrophobia that came as standard in a tiny moorland village like Penleven. It was no wonder Celia had needed t
