When Officer Jennifer Westcott returns to her hometown, there’s more than guilty memories awaiting her . . .
By Gabrielle Mullarkey
A gripping crime story
EVER since returning to my home village of Bixby last year, I’d vowed to take part in local events. True, I did notice people nudging each other and lowering their voices as I passed, but that was only to be expected.
At least, that’s what I’d told myself.
Christmas and New Year had been more challenging.
I’d put up a tree in my rented cottage, but revised my plan to attend New Year’s Eve fireworks on the green, forced instead to adopt a low profile.
Of course, that’s not easy when you’re the only serving police officer in a village.
Over the festive season, I’d been called out to the discovery of an abandoned greyhound in Hunter’s Lodge – the biggest and poshest house in the village.
Not that Sir Theo or Lady Angela Beasley had abandoned the poor animal, I hasten to add.
As Sir Theo observed when he brought the dog into my tiny police station, it was that time of year, unfortunately.
“Angela and I would never discard an animal,” he told me.
I’d never met a Beasley before. When I was growing up in the village, they’d seemed such alien beings, living in their house that was more like a castle.
But in the police station, Sir Theo had struck me as almost timid.
“It’s really a matter for the RSPCA, Sir Theobald,” I explained. “You’ll have to contact them.”
“Oh, of course. Forgive me, Officer Westcott,” he replied. “Do call me Theo.”
He’d turned crimson then, much to my own discomfort.
Naturally, my reputation preceded me. Or rather, my family’s did.
Changing the subject, Sir Theo had alluded to the New Year’s Eve fireworks.
“I trust we’ll see you there?” he asked. “Angela and I are on the organising committee.
“I’m safety marshal this year and Angela is in charge of refreshments.”
“I plan to attend,” I confirmed.
Then, on December 30, I’d gone into Govinder’s Minimart on my way to work, only for Addy Foxton to drop a bombshell on me.
“Officer Westcott, what a boon running into you like this! Have you heard?” she hissed in a stage whisper.
“Heard what?” I asked.
“Lewis Carter has moved here!” she announced. “Returned to the scene of the crime – as it were – just like you!”
A shock ran through me like an electric current.
“Well, good for
