intermittently coloured the route from the garage, through the garden gate, to between the beech and oak trees on the rough cliffside terrain. A brown trilby hat lay in the dew-soaked grass. Close by was a bloodstained wallet. The narrow pathway led to the cliff’s edge, and as the sergeant peered down to the rocks 120 ft below, he saw who he’d been looking for….

*** LISTENER CAUTION IS ADVISED ***