Submerged. Jordan Gray

not here to shop,” Molly said. And for no particular reason, she added, “We don’t smoke.”

      “Figurines? Puzzles? Got a new shipment of both.” Sandra indicated a stand in the corner. “Magazines?”

      “Actually, we’re here about tobacco,” Molly said.

      “Chewing tobacco,” Michael elaborated.

      Sandra pulled a face. “I sell it, but I don’t recommend it. Mouth cancer and all that. Not as much risk with a pipe or a cigar. Still, some folks seem to enjoy a good chaw.” Like a TV hostess showing off the prizes available on a game show, she pivoted and pointed to a smaller counter toward the front filled with tins and packets. “Name your poison.”

      “You’re not the only place in Blackpool selling chewing tobacco, are you?” Molly asked.

      Sandra seemed offended. “I’m the only tobacco shop, but the little convenience stores sell it, too, though their prices are higher.”

      Michael and Molly stepped over to the counter. Michael turned to squarely face Sandra. “We’re looking into a murder,” he explained.