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flesh. The guy was under terrific stress. The dire possibility crossed Jo’s mind that he might be gay and hadn’t come out yet. Finally he managed four pitiable words. ‘Not much company, me.’
    ‘Jake, that’s for others to judge, isn’t it?’
    A long pause followed. ‘Where, then?’
    ‘How about a walk on the beach?’
    He tugged at his shirt collar as if it was too tight.
    ‘I was thinking Selsey, in spite of what I said. I don’t want one bad experience to spoil it for me, so I ought to go back as soon as possible. Having you for company will make it so much easier.’
    After more work on the collar he gave a nod.
    She turned a mental cartwheel. ‘Cool. And I’ll try not to stumble over a body this time.’
    He gave the novocaine smile.
    By the same painstaking process they worked out that they would both be off work on Friday. She went to look for Adrian, and negotiated a reduction on the plant labels. Jake paid for them, muttered his thanks, and was gone.
    THERE WAS excitement of a different sort after lunch. Over the public address she was called to Adrian’s office. Unusual: it was his custom to seek people out on the shop floor, see what they were up to. Mystified, she checked her appearance before obeying the summons.
    A young man in an off-the-peg suit that didn’t hang well was standing just inside Adrian’s door. Also, seated on the opposite side, a woman better dressed, in a navy two-piece. They didn’t look as if they’d come to buy flowers. ‘This is Miss Stevens,’ Adrian told them without addressing Jo at all.
    The woman spoke. ‘Perhaps you’ll leave us for a while, then.’
    Adrian quit his office like a greyhound from the trap.
    Jo understood why when the woman said, ‘We’re police officers. DCI Mallin, Chichester CID,’ and showed a warrant card. The rapid way she spoke made the DCI sound like a forename. The card showed she was a detective chief inspector.
    The guy in the cheap suit—plainclothes in an extra sense—was evidently playing the nice cop. He introduced himself as Gary Pearce, Detective Constable, placed a chair for Jo and said as if she had done the police a great favour, ‘You found the body on Selsey beach and reported it, right? Would you mind telling us about it.’
    ‘I already told—’
    ‘No you didn’t,’ DCI Mallin cut in. ‘Not to us. Sit down, please.’ She was a small woman with a substantial presence.
    Jo was glad of the chair. This sudden face-to-face with the law had thrown her. Her legs had gone wobbly. She’d been trying to move on from that gruesome business. ‘There isn’t much to say. I drove to Selsey and went for an early morning walk along the front.’
    ‘Any special reason?’ DCI Mallin asked.
    ‘Exercise, I suppose.’
    ‘Why Selsey?’
    She wasn’t going to tell them about Jake. He had no conceivable connection with what had happened. ‘I like it there, that’s all.’
    ‘Many people about, were there?’
    ‘A few. Some in cars, some walking dogs. Not many. It was early and quite breezy down there.’
    ‘See anyone you knew?’
    ‘I don’t live there.’
    ‘We know that, Josephine,’ DCI Mallin said in a withering tone that made Jo even more uncomfortable. ‘If you simply answer the questions, you’ll help yourself as well as us.’
    ‘It’s Jo. My name. No one calls me Josephine.’ But my mother does, she thought. No wonder the name humiliates me.
    ‘Jo it is, then. I have the same trouble,’ the chief inspector said as if she realised she’d been a touch too severe. ‘I was named Henrietta and that’s a mouthful I don’t care for. People close to me call me Hen. Not him, though.’ She tilted her head at DC Pearce but she didn’t smile and neither did he. ‘My question, Jo, is did you see anyone you know on Selsey beach?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘That’s all right, then. Carry on with your statement.’
    She hadn’t thought it was anything so formal as a statement. She was just telling what happened