Footsteps on the Shore

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‘Where is everyone?’ Inspector Andy Horton swept into the CID room at Portsmouth station and addressed the wiry, dark-haired figure leaning back in his chair, chewing gum and tapping a pencil thoughtfully on his chin.

‘You’re looking at him,’ Sergeant Cantelli answered, throwing the pencil down and sitting up.

Horton frowned. ‘And DC Walters?’

‘Probably in the canteen. Must be all of an hour since he last ate, and you know how faint he gets if he has to go too long without food.’ Cantelli smiled, obviously expecting one in return, but Horton wasn’t in the mood. Cantelli’s expression darkened. ‘What’s wrong, Andy? You look as though you’d like to commit murder.’

‘I would, and of the mindless moron who did this.’ He thrust a piece of paper into Cantelli’s hand. On it was a drawing of a diagonal cross with a broken circle etched above it.

‘What’s it mean?’ asked Cantelli, puzzled, turning it this way and that to study it.

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