David and Isla hunkered on a huge rock, drinking a cup of coffee. The gulls crying in the distance. Suddenly, David sipped his cup of coffee, took a deep breath and sighed heavily. 

   "Ought to visit Ella." he stated, "Hope that she'd got some good news for us."

   "Yep." agreed on Isla, nodding his head.

After completing their coffee, they made the way to the laboratory by car. Arriving there, they left off the car and entered the laboratory. 

   "Oh, hiya," exclaimed Ella, surprised to see them.

   "Well... some good news," questioned David. 

   "Yeah, the body had had bruises and a gunshot_ _" 

   "Gunshot." called out Isla, David glaring at her, unappealing, "Sorry."

   "A gunshot at the pallette, the kneecap and I've also noticed red marks around his throat that I think that he was strangled. I've also collected his blood sample and discovered traces of drugs"

   "Fantastico," exclaimed David with a frenzy of excitement, nearly to jump in the air, "Keep on like this."

   "Well... that had cheered you up," said Isla. 

   "That's called to break a leg," said David, both leaving, "And stop being jealous."

   "What I'm not jealous and why should I even be." protested Isla.

   "Ah yeah, I can even see your roseate face though.

   "It's because of the sunbeams."

...

They rejoined the team, getting on with more great announcements. 

   "Inspector David, check this out," exclaimed Jimmy, one of the detectives, mostly the "CCTV regarder" as they call him. He beckoned them, "Spotted him, crossing the road and going to the shop, the Dhaka Fisheries, smoking a cigarette. Then the second camera shows him leaving and making the way to the cliff."

   "Well done." encouraged David, "Is there more?"

   "Yep, getting down a cabby at seven-thirty at Reach Road. And the other is from the light pole, getting to the lighthouse."

   "Goodie, well worked," Isla said, smiling. 

   "Can you zoom in the image of the taxi plate and double the pixel," ordered David.

   "ZZ 26 B." read Isla, squinting his eyes.

   "Track the number," commanded David, sober-faced.

   "Gotcha, Peter Alborough." declared Jimmy, "Lives at Folkestone also. Rented house of Mrs Sara."

...