Page 42 of Death on the Rocks (Lily Larkin Mysteries #1)

Chapter Forty-Two

Sergeant Proctor burst into the police station just as Flynn was walking back out from the cells. With Marc locked up, he thought he would finally get a moment to breathe, but judging by the sergeant’s strained expression, that probably wasn’t going to happen.

“What the hell is going on?” he fumed. “I heard the ferry was delayed. And the rumour is it was delayed because of a police request.”

“A rumour?” Flynn asked, certain that Sergeant Proctor wouldn’t rely on gossip.

“I heard it from the captain himself,” he spat.

“Hardly a rumour then,” Flynn pointed out, taking a seat at his desk.

Now that he had a criminal in custody, he was less concerned about Sergeant Proctor’s reaction to the events of the day.

Crimes had been committed and Flynn had acted accordingly.

The sergeant might have his feathers ruffled for not being involved, but there was no official reason for him to reprimand Flynn.

“Don’t get smart with me,” the sergeant snarled. “I told you to leave things be, and you’ve gone off on some wild quest because you don’t understand how small-town policing works. You just want drama, and I can tell you now that you won’t find it here.”

Flynn waited patiently for him to finish his rant. “I got a confession,” he said casually.

“You got what?” Sergeant Proctor’s features scrunched up. “A confession from who? About what?”

“From Marc Collins. He confessed to being involved in the death of Mr Vincent Roth.”

The sergeant’s eyes bulged, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Where is he now?” he finally asked.

“In cell one.” Flynn tilted his head in that direction.

“I’m assuming you read him his rights?” The tone of his voice suggested that he actually assumed the opposite. If he genuinely thought him that incompetent, there was no wonder he resented having him around.

“Yes,” Flynn said through gritted teeth.

“Bloody hell.” Sergeant Proctor started towards the cells.

“There’s more,” Flynn said, stopping him in his tracks.

“More?” he echoed.

With great effort, Flynn refrained from rolling his eyes at the sergeant’s exasperated tone. “It seems the suspect and the deceased were involved in illegal activity together.”

“What kind of illegal activity?” the sergeant growled, as though the crimes were Flynn’s fault.

“Vincent Roth was coercing young women into naked photoshoots,” he stated flatly. “Later he and Marc uploaded the photos to an internet site. In some cases, I believe they blackmailed the women to keep them from reporting it. And it seems that some of the women were underage teenagers.”

The sergeant stood rooted to the spot. “You have proof of this?”

“Yes, sarge.”

In a rush of movement, he stalked to the window and threw his hands up. “For Christ’s sake,” he grumbled, then turned and glared at Flynn.

PC Grainger felt nothing but annoyance. “You realise I haven’t done anything wrong,” he said firmly.

“That’s yet to be established.” He strode over to the chair opposite Flynn and sat heavily. “You better tell me everything from the beginning. Let’s just hope you’ve done everything by the book.”

Obediently, Flynn opened his notepad.

It took the best part of an hour for him to debrief the sergeant, and then another couple of hours to write up his report.

The sergeant, apparently in better health, spent that time making phone calls to their colleagues on the mainland – making a plan for moving Marc over there.

With his report finished, Flynn waited for the sergeant to finish his latest phone call.

“I could escort the prisoner tomorrow,” Flynn suggested. Maybe the offer would help get him in the sergeant’s good books. It would also mean a day away from the Scillies. Some time back in civilisation would be a welcome relief.

Sergeant Proctor sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

“I can also sleep at the station tonight if you want me to stay with the prisoner.” Someone needed to be there. “If you’re still not feeling great…”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “You can go home. I’ll handle things from here.”

“If you’re sure…” He could have sworn he detected a softening of the sergeant’s tone. That could only be a good thing.

“See you tomorrow, PC Grainger,” he said without glancing up from the paperwork in front of him.