As they drove the seventeen miles to Ainsdale, Southport, Derek McLennan, driving the car containing himself, Ross, and Fenella Church, had an observation to make.
“This is a bad one, isn"t it, sir?” he asked,
Ross, in the front seat, replied, “What makes you say that, Derek?”
“Well, for one thing, we don"t usually get called in within hours of the discovery of a body, unless there are indications that it"s our kind of case, and second, the way you said, He did what? to the chief when he called, told me there was some unusual feature about the case, and for us, unusual always means bad.”
He did what?“Very good, Derek. You should have been a detective,” Ross allowed himself a quiet laugh. “But yes, you"re right of course. I"m telling you two now,” he said, turning to look at Church in t
