The time of year is late November and unfortunately the south coast of England is experiencing an unusually cold snap. Constable Coombs, from the local constabulary, is doing a perfunctory check along the mile long South Beach promenade. Tonight the promenade has been abandoned by the normally hardy holiday makers who come to see the Christmas lighting. Coombs does not blame them as the lighting just looks gaudy in the wintry gloom. Grateful that nothing is amiss she quickly returns to the station.
Sergeant Dobbs is manning the front desk of this cash strapped police station. The only other officer on duty is Detective Constable Chaste and he is making the tea. When the desk telephone rings again for the umpteenth time, Dobbs, feeling tired, hesitates before lifting the receiver.
“I am Maurice, owner of the ‘Maurice welcomes you’ club. I am telephoning to report a murder.” The voice simple said.
When Detective Chief Inspector Slade is summoned to the murder scene it becomes crystal clear to him that this case cannot be dealt with in normal circumstances. For starters there are possibly 60, 80, maybe one hundred witnesses and any one of them could be the murderer.