The Blue Pool Murders by Rachel McLean, book 7 in the Dorset Crime series - Chapter 1

Christina smiled as Nick swung her hand, keeping pace with their footsteps like a pendulum. It was chilly today and she’d forgotten her gloves, but she was trying to ignore that as she felt his fingers wrapping around hers. It wasn’t just the first time they’d gone for a walk together; it was the first time she’d brought him home to Dorset.

He slowed pace, forcing her to slow too, and frowned.

“What’s that?” he said.

“What’s what?”

“That birdsong. I’m trying to place it.”

She shrugged. “No idea. D’you know birdsong?”

He swung her hand and moved off again. Christina sped up herself, anxious to keep up the pace. The brisk walking was the only thing keeping her warm.

“Not really,” he said. “But I thought you might. Seeing as you live down here and that.”

“Lived.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?”

“Only for the holidays. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. We both will.”

He sniffed. Christina knew that Nick tended to travel around in the holidays, avoiding his parents’ home in Edinburgh. He’d picked Bristol for uni, pretty much as far as he could get from them.

She squeezed his arm. “I’m looking forward to going back. It’s dull here.”

“It’s lovely here.”

She shivered. How could Nick think it was lovely down here in Dorset? Her whole life she’d been aching to escape. To live somewhere you could buy vapes on a Sunday morning and get a curry after 9pm on a Friday. To live somewhere where all your neighbours didn’t know your business.

“It’s not so lovely when you have to live here.”

They turned a bend in the path and the view of the pool opened up in front of them. The Blue Pool was one of the few places around here that she liked. It was different from the landscapes across the rest of the Isle of Purbeck. Instead of miles of gorse and open views towards the coast, there were conifers on all sides and a feeling of intimacy. The pine needles on the ground muffled all sound, reminding her of the silence after snowfall. Here, she could forget she was just two miles from the home she’d been born and grown up in. The home her deathly dull sister would stay in all her life, if she had her way.

They were on the top path, on the far side of the pool from the tea room. The view of the pool had brought Nick to a halt, as she’d known it would. She allowed herself to stop alongside him and look down at the water. It was mid-blue today, not the bright shade of turquoise it reached on sunny days.

“What’s that?” She pointed towards the water.

“What’s what?”

“There’s something in the pool.”

“It’s just a log or something, isn’t it?” Nick seemed unbothered.

But Christina had been here enough times to know that what she was looking at wasn’t a log. It was too misshapen, too thick.

She released his hand and took the side path that led steeply down towards the water.

“Are we supposed to go that way?” Nick called after her.

“It’s fine.” She didn’t look back at him, too focused on maintaining her footing. “I’ve been here a thousand times.”

She heard scrambling behind her, interspersed with the occasional ouch. She smiled. Nick would soon learn that it wasn’t all perfect here in the countryside.

At the bottom of the hill, Christina paused for breath. She turned to see Nick halfway down the slope, his arms flailing and his city shoes sliding on the needles.

Don’t fall, she thought. If he hurt himself, it would be hours before help made it out here.

“Stand up straight,” she told him. “Act like you don’t think you’re about to fall over.”

He looked up, wobbled, then reached out to grab a branch. “But I do.”

She shook her head. In Bristol, Nick had seemed sophisticated. The older man from the city, confident and knowing.

But here… here he seemed somehow smaller.

She felt her heart dip. Was she going to have to dump him, already? Or should she wait until they got back to uni, hope that he regained his charm there?

At last he was at the bottom of the hill. He ran towards her, propelled by momentum rather than will. He crashed into her and flung his arms around her to steady himself.

“Ow!”

“Sorry.” Nick had a fist clenched into the fabric of her waterproof. He wasn’t wearing a waterproof, but the same woollen coat which had seemed so cool in Bristol. It seemed silly here.

“Come on,” she said. “I want to see what it is.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we should call someone. That woman in the tea room looked like she knew what she was doing.”

Christina frowned at him. “It’ll be fine.” She turned and made for the water, close to where she’d seen the shape.

As she emerged from the woods and got a clear view of the pond, she felt her breath catch.

She stopped in her tracks.

Nick carried on, striding ahead of her like he was master of the landscape rather than a boy who’d just come close to falling down a small hill.

“Nick.” Christina could hear the tremor in her voice.

“Come on,” he replied. “You wanted to look.” His gaze was on the forest floor, his pace unbroken.

“Stop,” she told him. She advanced a few steps, forcing herself to look at the object.

Nick turned to her. “You OK?” He cocked his head. “You’ve gone pale.”

“Look at it,” she told him. “Have you even looked at it?”

“Of course I’ve—” he turned. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.”

She could smell it now. It was like— it was like nothing she’d ever smelled before. Like blocked up drains mixed with the smell of the dead rats her cat Holly left in the shed at the bottom of her parents’ garden. Like the meat processing plant on the road out to Bath mixed with the time her sister had puked all over Christina’s duvet after getting drunk two Christmases ago.

“Don’t go any closer,” she told Nick.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

She took a step back. The smell was sharp, like a blade cutting into her nostrils. She felt certain it would never leave her.

“What do we do?” Nick asked. He’d taken a few steps back too, but was still staring.

Christina swallowed. She allowed herself a final look at the shape floating in the shallows of the Blue Pool.

A body. Face down in the water, and not… not exactly the shape she expected a dead body to be in. But it was a body alright.

“Maybe he’s alive?” Nick suggested.

“It might not be a he,” she told him. “And that smell… whoever that is, they’re not alive.”

“No.” Nick turned to her. She saw the fear in his eyes. Was he expecting them to be next? Did he think a killer was about to emerge from the bushes and shove them into the water?

This body had been here for days. There was no chance of them being next.

She swallowed. “We call my aunt,” she said. “She’ll know what to do.”

“Your aunt? Not 999?”

Christina nodded. “Gail. She works with the police. It’s not an emergency, is it? Besides, you know what 999’s like these days.”

He walked towards her and put a hand on her shoulder. “OK.” His face was full of sympathy she wasn’t sure she wanted to receive. “Let’s call your aunt.”