The hooded figure looked around before pulling out a knife from their pocket. They grabbed the frightened woman by the neck, the figure plunged the knife through her chest, her last sound an ear-piercing scream. Thick, scarlet blood leaked from her wound down her ivory coloured summer dress. She fell to the soft, golden sand. The figure dragged her by the arms and concealed her beneath a shady willow tree. They then attempted to cover their tracks and ran away.

"Tibbles!" the woman called, "Here, Tibbles!" Her disobedient dog was usually a tiny bit more behaved than this. The shabby grey dog started barking at something amongst the trees. The old woman flicked a speck of sand off her wrinkled, tanned face before calling, "Tibbles, what have you found?" She walked up the beach to her dog. She pulled the branches away with her rough hands.

"There you are, you mischievous thing," She said, before her eyes had time to adapt to the dim light inside the tree's shady shelter, then she screamed.

Shivering, she whispered, "Oh my goodness!" The woman, Blanche, put her dog on its leash and hurried back to the nearest phone box, she dialled the number of the Honoré Police.

"Hello, Dwayne? There's a dead body on the beach!" Blanche cried; she was wise and knew almost everyone in Saint Marie.

"Okay, alright," Dwayne replied, "We'll be there right away, see you in a minute Blanche." He put the phone down carefully and looked around the office to his new chief DI Humphrey Goodman. "Chief, there's been a murder!" Dwayne looked to Fidel, "Blanche's has found a body on the beach!"

"Right," Humphrey said, choosing a pen from a pot but knocking it over in his general clumsiness. He straightened his beige jacket and walked out leaving his pens scattered on the floor and his new desk. Camille rolled her eyes and followed him out to their police car. The brown car sat faithfully near the station, police markings showing off the owners. By routine Camille automatically climbed into the driver's seat then slammed the door and fastened her seat belt, Fidel and Dwayne positioned themselves on their motorbike, Humphrey climbed in to the passenger's seat, timidly shutting the door (but then having to open it again because he shut is trouser leg in it) slightly dazed by the others way of routine.

When they arrived at the beach they were met by a frantic Blanche and a bored Tibbles. "She's over there, in the tree!" Blanche exclaimed with a slight French accent, "I think it is Katrina!" The four officers followed Blanche and her wild dog to the tree.

"And you found her?" Dwayne questioned.

Blanche nodded as her yellow blouse rippled in the slight summer breeze, "Well, Tibbles here did."

"Do you know where she could've been last night?" asked Dwayne, knowing Blanche as a large source of local gossip/knowledge.

"I know she was invited to a party at the Fredrick's house."

"Thanks Blanche." Blanche then left knowing she had told Dwayne all she knew; she had decided to go to her favourite café.

Dwayne turned to Humphrey, "Her name is Katrina Oatley and she was at a party in the Fredrick's house last night." Humphrey pulled a napkin, which he used for last night's meal, out of his pocket and wrote down the information he had just been told. Camille pushed apart the branches and saw the body lying on the ground with a knife through the chest, her thoughts turned to DI Richard Poole who she had feelings for, she clamped her hand to her mouth and left the crime scene. Dwayne, Fidel and Humphrey followed her with their eyes.

"Is she okay?" Humphrey asked. Dwayne and Fidel shrugged.

"Fidel, collect the knife and send everything off," Humphrey told him, "Dwayne, what can you do?"

"I'll go back to the station and look her up," Dwayne replied.

"And I'll find Camille and we'll go to the Fredrick's house," Humphrey said but Dwayne and Fidel had already gone to their jobs. Humphrey made his way back to the car, tripping on a stone as he went. He jumped into the passenger's seat (this time managing not trap part of his clothing in the door) next to Camille who was slumped over the wheel with tears on her favourite green jeans.

"Camille," he whispered, "Are you okay?" Camille sighed as she sat up straight, leaning her head against the head rest.

She gave a weak smile, "Fine." Her big, brown eyes were still watery so Humphrey took out his checked handkerchief and handed it to her. She dried her eyes and returned it to him.

"Can I ask what the matter is?" a concerned Humphrey quizzed.

"Where are we off to?" replied a secretive Camille, changing the subject entirely.

"The Fredrick's house," Came Humphrey's answer, "We can go later if you don't feel up to it." In reply Camille buckled up her seat belt and drove towards the house.