Man, what a day! I swear, if I had a quid for every twist today threw at me, I’d be rich. So, I’m a detective, right? And today started off like any other. I was just sippin’ my coffee at this little café on St. Annes Road, right? The sun was shining, birds chirping, and I thought, “Hey, maybe today won’t be a total mess.” Spoiler alert: I was dead wrong.
First off, I get a call. It’s my partner, Dave. He’s all breathless, like he just ran a marathon or something. “Oi, mate! You gotta get to the Promenade, now!” I’m thinkin’, “What’s the rush?” Turns out, some bloke found a body near the beach. Great. Just what I needed.
So, I hop on my bike and zoom over. The Promenade’s packed with tourists, families, and kids runnin’ around like they own the place. I weave through ‘em, dodging ice cream cones and seagulls. Seriously, those birds are like flying rats. Anyway, I finally get there, and it’s chaos. Cops everywhere, flashing lights, the whole shebang.
I push through the crowd, and there’s Dave, looking like he’s seen a ghost. “Over here!” he shouts. I follow him to this poor sod lying on the sand. It’s a right mess. I won’t go into details, but let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. I felt a mix of anger and sadness. Who does this? Who takes a life like that?
As I’m crouched down, trying to piece things together, I hear some old lady behind me. “Oh, it’s just like that time in ’92!” she yells. I roll my eyes. Lady, this ain’t a history lesson. But then again, Fylde’s got its fair share of stories. I mean, it’s a lovely place, but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows.
After the scene, I head over to the local pub, The Black Bull, to grab a pint and clear my head. I sit down, and the bartender, a cheeky bloke named Tom, says, “Rough day, eh?” I laugh. “You could say that.” I down my pint and order another. I need it.
While I’m nursing my drink, I overhear some locals chatting about the body. “He was a right dodgy character,” one says. “Always hangin’ around Clifton Drive.” My ears perk up. Clifton Drive? That’s not far from where I live. I finish my pint and head out, feeling a bit more determined.
I stroll down Clifton Drive, keeping an eye out. It’s a mix of shops and homes, but something feels off. I spot a group of lads hanging out, looking a bit too shifty for my liking. I approach them, and they scatter like cockroaches when the light’s on. Classic.
I chase one down, and he’s all panicked. “I didn’t do nuffin!” he yells. I’m like, “Chill, mate. Just wanna chat.” Turns out, he saw the victim a few nights ago, acting all sketchy. “He was with some dodgy geezers,” he says, eyes darting around.
Now I’m fuming. Who are these blokes? I thank the kid and head back to the station, my mind racing. I can’t shake the feeling that this is bigger than just a random murder.
Back at the station, I’m pouring over notes, trying to connect the dots. I’m fueled by anger and a bit of adrenaline. I can’t let this slide. Fylde deserves better.
Hours pass, and I’m still at it. I finally get a lead on the dodgy geezers. They’re known around town, always causing trouble. I grab Dave, and we head out to track ‘em down.
We find ‘em at a rundown flat on Lytham Road. It’s dark, and I can feel the tension in the air. We knock, and it’s like a scene from a movie. They open the door, and it’s chaos. We’re in the thick of it, and I’m shouting, “Police!”
Long story short, we get ‘em. Turns out, they were involved in some shady business. I’m relieved but still angry. This isn’t just about today. It’s about keeping Fylde safe.
As I wrap up the day, I can’t help but think about the body on the beach. It’s a reminder that life can change in an instant. But I’m here, and I’ll keep fighting for this town.
So, yeah, that was my day. Full of surprises, anger, and a bit of hope. Fylde’s got