Free Vanished by Jordan Gray Page B

composed.
    Paddington’s expression was set like concrete. He pulled out a little notebook and pen. “Was he stabbed?”
    â€œYes,” Parker replied. “A long, narrow blade perforated his abdomen.”
    â€œHow long a blade?” asked Michael. “Three or four inches, about the length of a pocket knife?”
    â€œLarger, I expect. But I’m not a trained medical examiner. I’ll sign the body over to the forensics team, Inspector, and they can sort the matter out.”
    â€œFotherby says there are no knives on the boat, save that small one your friend found, Graham.”
    Molly suspected Paddington wasn’t going to thank Michael for his part in alerting the town to a new murder case, and she was right. His moustache twitching, he stepped closer to Parker.
    â€œWhen was Willie attacked?”
    â€œAt a guess, at about a quarter to eleven.”
    Michael chimed in, “Owen Montcalm said that he gave up trying to keep people out of the marina so he decided to go and enjoy the festival. He left around ten and everything was in order.”
    â€œI have officers on the case, thank you, Graham.” Paddington’s pen scratched across the notebook.
    A nurse held the swinging door open. “Doctor?”
    â€œIf you’ll excuse me.” Parker hurried past her and the door closed behind him.
    â€œWell then,” said Paddington, “what’s all this about Dylan Stewart and his wife?”
    Michael’s words came reluctantly. “Naomi meant to run away with Willie.”
    Paddington tutted. “Hell hath no fury like a man betrayed, eh? Dylan’s a sizeable chap. If he took to violence there’d be no stopping him.”
    Michael said nothing.
    â€œOr Naomi herself stabbed Willie. Lover’s quarrel.”
    Molly waded in. “There are a lot of people in Blackpool with grudges against Willie,” countered Molly. “You yourself saw Robbie Glennison arguing with him. Not fifteen minutes later, I overheard Willie on the Black Sea Pearl trying to get past Martin Dunhill so he could show Trevor Hopewell a gold coin.”
    â€œA gold coin?” Paddington asked. “Oh, please, not that rubbish about treasure again.”
    â€œIt’s not rubbish. We found three gold coins and a silver one in Willie’s flat.”
    â€œDidn’t Fotherby hand them in?” Michael asked.
    â€œFotherby?” demanded Paddington. “He reported a spot of bother with the pair of you and Stewart at Willie’s flat. Stewart broke in searching for his wife.”
    â€œDylan didn’t break in,” Michael pointed out. “The door was open.”
    â€œFotherby was watching the place,” Molly said.
    â€œWillie needed watching,” said Paddington.
    â€œAnd now Fotherby’s got his coins.”
    â€œHe’s police, isn’t he? What makes you think these coins were Willie’s?”
    â€œWhat makes you think they weren’t?” Molly retorted. “He may have found them in the tunnels, just like a couple of boys did in the 1840s… Oh! Maybe they’re even the same coins!”
    â€œWhere did Willie get them, then?” asked Michael.
    â€œGood question.” Molly made a mental note to research where the 1840 coins had gone.
    Paddington raised his voice to override both of theirs. “That’s what I’m asking—where did Willie get any coins? Douglas—P.C. Fotherby—was very wise to take custody of them. I’ll have a word with him, soon as the Scene of Crimes team from headquarters in Ripon arrives.”
    Raised voices and quick footsteps sounded from the entrance hall. A heavily pregnant teenager burst into the room. Her plump cheeks streaked with tears, her blond curls sagging, she gasped, “Rebecca saw Willie being carried up from the pier. Krebs said he’d been hurt. Where is he?”
    â€œWho are you?” demanded Paddington.
    â€œI’m