Clive Thompson heads for Whitley Bay
caravan park to finish writing his novel. He’s never had a caravan holiday
before and is warmly greeted by the manager, Liz Mathews, who lives on the
park. She is single and cares for her ninety year old mother who has Alzheimer’s
Disease. Clive meets the people in neighbouring caravans and has an amazing
view from his veranda over the sea to St. Mary’s Lighthouse. However, Audrey
goes missing during the night and Liz is beside herself with worry. The police are out looking for her, but
disillusioned by their efforts, Clive begins his own investigations.
Purchase Links - https://www.amazon.co.uk/Death-Caravan-Park-Thompson-investigates-ebook/dp/B0C6YGTH79/
https://www.amazon.com/Death-Caravan-Park-Thompson-investigates-ebook/dp/B0C6YGTH79/
EXTRACT FROM CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
There
is news that the police have found a body down on the causeway leading to St.
Mary’s Lighthouse in Whitley Bay. My sleuth, Clive Thompson has joined, Liz the
manager from caravan park whose Mam is missing. They are bundled into a police
car and hurtle down to the scene.
EXCERPT
A crowd has
gathered on the other side of the taped area which makes me scowl. What is it
they want to see? I read somewhere about accident or suicide tourists. These
are people who mill around longing to see dead bodies or traumatic events. I
think this is ghoulish and know I wouldn’t be interested to see the remains of
an old woman’s dead body. But obviously these people do because now I’ve seen
this scene - I know Audrey is dead.
It amazes me
how quickly bad news spreads so fast but nowadays it is because of social
media. I can see the crowd holding up their smart phones trying to get closer
photographs and know there’ll be images of the causeway and the barriers
already on Facebook and Twitter. What is it that interests people in tragedy
and accidents? It’s a well-known fact that drivers often cause more mayhem when
they slow down to stare at road traffic accidents.
I look ahead
at the sea and remember how cold it was when I waded through it up to my
ankles. Audrey would have to be superhuman to survive for any length of time in
that temperature. The policewoman slows down and drives a little way along the
narrow road to the start of the causeway path.
Liz is
swearing and fumbling trying to undo her seatbelt which is entwined with the
strap of her shoulder bag.
The
policewoman says, ‘Please, Ms Mathews just stay in the car until I come back
and find out what’s happened.’
Liz almost
growls. ‘My name is Liz, and I’m not staying anywhere – I have to see her!’
I hear the
policewoman tut, but I help Liz with the belt, and we climb out of the back of
the car together.
Liz starts to
run, and I keep up with her calling all the while, ‘Liz, wait! Please just slow
down!’
But there’s no
stopping her and my heart is pounding as I hurry alongside and down the path.
Another length of police tape is across the top of four old steps on the side
of the causeway path. An older police sergeant is standing guard with his back
to the sea, however, his torso fills most of the opening to the top step.
‘Hey,’ he
shouts, ‘You can’t go down there.’
Liz swears at
him and then cries, ‘I’m her daughter and I have to be with her!’
He is short
and broad but holds her arm firmly. I can tell he’s not hurting her although
she’s struggling against him like a wild cat. He stands to the side still
holding onto Liz. And that’s when I hear her howl like an animal at the sight
before us.
I don’t mind
admitting that my legs feel like jelly and my knees begin to knock. Although I
have written about dead bodies, I’ve never actually seen one. I swallow hard as
bile rises up in my throat.
Audrey’s head
is lolled back on the top step. She looks almost ethereal with a white,
blotchy, puffed-up face. From what I remember she had a thin craggy face - now
it seems twice the size. Her eyes are half open as if she is looking down to
the sea, and her lips are huge and pale blue. There are bits of seaweed tangled
in her hair which has come out of the tight bun she’d had when I met her.
Liz sobs and
pleads with the sergeant. ‘But I just want to sit on the step and cuddle her?’
I can see him
melt a little and loosen his hold on her arm. ‘Sorry, pet, but we can’t let
you. It’s what we call a crime scene, and no one is allowed down there until my
boss arrives with the coroner.’
Licking my dry lips, I try to explain how our feet might contaminate the scene and, how we can’t touch anything especially not Audrey. I see Liz’s knees buckle as huge racking sobs escape from her mouth. I take her other arm and between me and the sergeant we catch her before she falls to the ground.
Author
Bio –
Susan is a published author of eight novels
and six novellas with short stories published in Women’s Weekly magazines. She
is now retired from Food Technology and scribbles away in County Durham.
Writing psychological suspense and cosy-crime novels with strong, lovable North
East characters, is her passion. Last year, she brought us, Clive’s Christmas
Crusades, set in York. Following the Harrogate Crime Writing Festival, Susan
wrote six Curious Casefiles which is now published by Northodox Press. She has
incorporated up-to-date issues: poor mental health in a kidnap scene, the
perils of social media, and an intruder on Skype.
Social Media Links –
You can find Susan’s books here: https://amzn.to/2S5UBc8
www.facebook.com/susan.willis.710
https://twitter.com/SusanWillis69
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