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“Sheriff Flint Cahill had been thinking about how quiet Gilt Edge had been lately, when a call was put through to his office. “Sheriff Flint Cahill?” a man asked in a West Indies accent. “Yes? How may I help you?” “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Your brother Cyrus Cahill?” “Yes.” He sat up a little straighter, holding the phone tighter. “He has disappeared and believed to have gone overboard.” “Gone overboard?” Flint repeated thinking he must have heard wrong. “Yes, he has fallen off the cruise ship he was on.” Flint shook his head. “I’m sorry, who did you say you were?” “The police commissioner here on the island of St. Augusta in the Caribbean.” — B.J. Daniels
Sheriff Flint Cahill had been thinking about how quiet Gilt Edge had been lately, when a call was put through to his office.
“Sheriff Flint Cahill?” a man asked in a West Indies accent.
“Yes? How may I help you?”
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Your brother Cyrus Cahill?”
“Yes.” He sat up a little straighter, holding the phone tighter.
“He has disappeared and believed to have gone overboard.”
“Gone overboard?” Flint repeated thinking he must have heard wrong.
“Yes, he has fallen off the cruise ship he was on.” Flint shook his head. “I’m sorry, who did you say you were?”
“The police commissioner here on the island of St. Augusta in the Caribbean.