“No, love. They're not running the passenger boats, there's just a police boat going over once a day. I can't miss it, I'm the SIO on the case. And we've just uncovered some important evidence that I wasn't able to follow up today.”
“And you reckon that's my fault.”
Lesley sighed. “I don't reckon it's anybody's fault, Sharon sweetheart. I just know that you need to go back and see your dad. He's worried about you. He spent Tuesday night driving around Edgbaston and Harborne trying to find your friends’ houses, looking for you.”
Sharon's eyes widened. “Dad did that?”
Lesley nodded. “He did, love. He worries about you. If you go back to Birmingham, I think what you've done might give him a bit of a kick. He'll pay you a bit more attention, maybe keep Julieta at arm's length for a while. Give him a chance, Sharon. Can you do that?”
Sharon pulled in a sob. “I can try.”
“Good,” Lesley said. She put her hand on her daughter's knee and felt the muscle tense beneath it. “That's all I ask of you.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Frankie yawned as she stepped outside her house.
She’d left Adam snoring. Volunteers still weren't being allowed on the island and as he was the only one here, it meant he had no work to do. She'd rope him in to help her with the work on the hide later on. It wasn't normally his area, but he needed something to do and she needed an extra pair of hands.
Frankie stretched herself out, twisting her neck from side to side. She rotated her arms to release the tension. Standing on the path outside her house, she breathed in deeply.
The air on the island was the freshest she'd ever known, full of birdsong and the whisper of the wind through the trees. It gave her a sense of calm, like nothing she'd ever experienced.
Even with the knowledge that there was a killer on this island and her grief at losing Simone, she still loved it here.
But she'd run all the way home last night, panting like a dog when she'd slammed through the front door and banged it shut behind her. Adam had hurried through from the kitchen, his eyes wide, his face full of worry. But she’d reassured him that she was safe and hadn't passed on her worries about Anya.
Where was her friend?
She needed to go check on her. But it was just five am. People were in the habit of waking early here, but it was still too early to knock on Anya’s door.
She would go down to the hide on the lagoon and watch the birds start their morning. It was her favourite way to ease herself into the long hot summer days. Enjoying the cool in the hide before it got muggy later on.
She took the long route to the hide, pacing through the woods, her footsteps light. She spotted two red squirrels running up a tree trunk ahead and stopped to watch them. They leapt from one tree to the next, blissfully unaware of their audience.
She smiled. This was what the visitors came here for.
But it was so much easier to spot the squirrels when the crowds had gone home.
At last she arrived at the hide. She took the boardwalk across the lagoon, fumbling in her pockets for the key. There were only three people with these keys: her, Natasha, and Ed. She had responsibility for opening it up in the morning, and Natasha closed it at night.
She pushed open the door to the hide, enjoying the familiar creak as it opened. The hide was gloomy, still chilly from the night. She walked to the long window facing over the lagoon and put her head down on the sill. It was cool. Droplets of water hung on the wood, the morning's dew lingering.
Frankie scanned the lagoon. A flock of oystercatchers were wading on the northern edge. She watched them for a few moments, holding her breath as they dabbled in the shallows.
She moved her gaze across the surface of the water, taking in the ripples from the breeze coming off the harbour. There was something large in the middle of the lagoon, something floating.
Frankie frowned.
There hadn't been a storm lately. No logs would have been felled and blown out here.
Whatever it was, she would need to investigate. The logs disturbed birds and normally they would get a team of volunteers to clear them out of the way. Today, she could rope Adam in to help her. Hopefully Anya too.
She left the hide and walked along the boardwalk, back to land. There was a fence to one side, a locked gate in it providing access to the lagoon.
She took out her keys again and opened the gate, stepping through into a cacophony of birdsong.
Here on the lagoon, where the tourists weren't permitted, she felt at one with the wildlife. She couldn't believe she hadn't discovered this island earlier, that she hadn't come here as a child when she'd first developed a passion for birds. But she was here now, in her own version of heaven.
She edged along the side of the lagoon. The land here was unstable, damp. The object she'd seen wasn't in the centre of the lagoon as she'd thought, but floating over towards the bank in the direction of the church.
She narrowed her eyes as she approached.
It was too big to be a log.
She cocked her head.
It was…
No. Her eyes were deceiving her.
She shifted closer and felt her breath catch in her throat.
A person was lying face down in the water.
Frankie sucked in a breath and called out.
“Hello! Are you OK?”
Was someone swimming out here in the lagoon at five o'clock in the morning?
She assessed the distance between her and the person. It was shallow here, but it got deeper further out.
The figure didn't move.
Frankie felt dread crawl through her.
It wasn't a person. It was a body.
She waded into the water, the chill soaking into her legs. Her heart picked up pace as she approached the body.
She hardly dared to look at it, she hardly dared to think.
It was a woman.
She had thin straggly hair and was small, almost like a child. She wore a…
Oh my God.
Frankie stumbled in the water, almost losing her footing.
The woman wore a red scarf.
A red scarf like the one Anya owned.
Chapter Fifty
Lesley jumped out of the squad car that had been sent for her and ran towards Poole quay. The police boat was there already, three figures gathered near it. One of them was Johnny, the other two were male PCs.
“Johnny,” she panted. “I didn't expect to find you here.”
“I got a call from dispatch,” he said. “I left home soon as I heard.”
“You're coming to the island with me again today?”
He nodded. “The sarge told me I should come back.”
“How's your wife?”
He flushed. “She's fine. False alarm.”
Lesley put a hand on Johnny's shoulder. “I'm glad to hear it, Johnny. I hope she'll be OK.”
He looked down, not meeting her eye. “Thanks. She'll be fine.” He looked out towards the boat. “Let's just get over there.”
Lesley approached the two PCs. “Is it just you two?”
“Sergeant Dillick’s on his way. And PC Abbott.”
“How far away are they?”
“I'll check.” One of the PCs spoke into his radio, then shook his head. “It'll be half an hour before they get here.”
“One of you bring the boat back for them,” Lesley said. “I want to get over there right now, we haven't got time to wait.”
The PC nodded and Lesley went to the boat. She looked up as Johnny approached, his face full of fear.
“You'll be fine,” she told him. “You've done it once, now you know you can do it again.”
He swallowed and nodded at her. She climbed into the boat then held out a hand and helped him clamber down.
One of the PCs untied the ropes and they headed out into the harbour. They were moving faster this time, a sense of urgency propelling them through the water. Johnny clutched at the seat either side of his legs. He
muttered under his breath. Lesley watched, hoping he wouldn't throw up.
When they were halfway across, she pulled out her phone and dialled Gail.
“Hello?” Gail said, her voice sleepy.
“Sorry to wake you,” Lesley said. “But there's been another body found on Brownsea Island.”
“What?”
“They think it's Anya Davinski.”
“Isn't she one of the…?”
“She is,” Lesley said.
She thought back to herself and Tina racing around the island yesterday, looking for Anya. Had she been dead all that time, or had she been with whoever had killed her?
“When can you get over here?” she asked Gail.
“I was planning on meeting Gav and Brett at the quay at eight. I thought I'd get a headstart on you. But you’ve beaten me to it.”
“When can you get here?” Lesley repeated.
Gail lived in Swanage. She’d have to get the ferry across the mouth of the harbour. Was it even running yet?
“Give me twenty minutes to get to Shell Bay,” Gail said. “I’ll get Brett to take the boat over there, the ferry’s not running this early. Then we’ll be ten minutes, it’s closer to the island than Poole quay.”
“Thanks.” Lesley hung up.
They were near the island now, approaching the lagoon north of the quay. Lesley could see two people standing on a narrow piece of land that separated the lagoon from the harbour. Ed Rogers and Frankie Quinn.
“Can we moor up here?” she called out to one of the constables.
“Not sure, Ma'am.”
Ed waved to them as they approached. He cupped his hands to his mouth, calling out. Lesley raised her arms in a shrug.
Her phone rang, it was Ed.
“Don't bring your boat in here. Take it to the quay.” His voice sounded stern.
“Why not?” Lesley asked him. “This’ll make our job easier.”
“No,” he replied. “It's a delicate habitat. You can't disturb it.”
Lesley cursed under her breath. If they pulled in at the quay, getting to the lagoon would take a good ten minutes.
“We’ll need to bring a boat in closer to where you found her,” she told him.
“I know,” he said. “But not right by the lagoon.”
She sighed. “Fair enough.”
She nodded to the PC who was steering the boat.
“Go to the quay,” she told him.
Chapter Fifty-One
Anya Davinski was still floating facedown in the water when Lesley arrived. Ed stood at the edge of the lagoon, looking helpless. He turned to Lesley as she ducked through a gate in the fence separating the lagoon from the hide.
“I don't know what to do,” he said. “I was going to move her, but then I thought your crime scene people might prefer it if I left her how she was.”
“You did the right thing,” Lesley told him.
She looked at the body floating in the lagoon. It spun clockwise, hit the edge of the water, then floated back towards the centre before repeating the same movement. The current kept bringing it back to the edge of the water, where the ground was marshy and brown. The woman’s arms were out, her hair floating across the water.
Lesley hated leaving her like this, but she knew that Gail and her team needed to see the woman as she had been when she was found, not as she would be after she'd been dragged out of the water. They would need to take photos.
“Who found her?” she asked.
“Frankie Quinn. She opens up the hide in the morning. She found her about an hour and a half ago.”
“She was here when we passed in the boat.”
Ed nodded. “She was distraught. I sent her home.”
Lesley surveyed the body. Hurry up, Gail.
“Can you wait here a moment, Ed?” she asked him. “I need to have a word with my DC.”
Johnny looked puzzled as she led him away. They went back through the gate and stood in front of the hide. It was still early, only half past six. Nobody seemed to have been alerted to what had happened. Maybe the people who lived here had more respect than the average member of the public.
“God, I wish we’d spoken to her yesterday,” she said to Johnny.
He nodded. “About the argument?”
“It was her,” she said. “It was Anya and Natasha who argued.”
“Not Simone?”
“No. So what did they argue about? Is that why she’s dead?”
Johnny looked at her. “We got some new information yesterday too, boss.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And you're telling me now?”
“Sorry.”
He still looked pale. He'd walked slowly on the way from the quay, not able to stop and gather his breath this time. She knew he'd still be feeling nauseous.
“What is it, then?” she snapped.
“Simone applied for a transfer off the island, a week ago last Friday.”
“Thirteen days before she died.”
“Yes, boss.”
“What reason did she give?”
“We don't know. Mike was looking through her personnel file, he found a letter.”
“A letter?”
“Handwritten. She clearly didn't want to use the computers.”
“And did she say why she wanted a transfer?”
“We tried to call the HR manager, but it was too late in the day. Mike’ll speak to her this morning, I'm sure he'll let us know as soon as he finds out.”
“You keep in touch with him,” Lesley said. “I want to know the minute we get a reason for Simone requesting that transfer. If someone on this island is involved, we need to talk to them.” She dug her fingers into her scalp. “It could be her killer.”
“Anya's too,” Johnny said.
Lesley swallowed. “We still need to speak to Natasha,” she told him. “I want to know why she argued with Anya, it's even more important now. I want you to do that. I’ll talk to Frankie Quinn when we’re done here.”
“It's still early.”
“I don't care how early it is, two women are dead. Did you interview her on Wednesday?”
“Her and her husband, boss.”
“Good. Go and wake her up. Get her when she's disorientated, she'll find it harder to lie to you.”
“Right, boss.”
Johnny turned away, then turned back towards her. “How do I get to her house from here?”
“No idea.”
She hadn't been in this area of the island before. She knew they were near Frankie and Simone's houses but wasn't sure how to reach Natasha's.
“Come with me,” she said. “Ask Ed for directions.”
“Boss.”
She stepped through the gate and walked towards the body. The sensible boots she'd bought after wading through mud on her first case in Dorset were better than her usual high heels, but they weren’t wellies. She moved slowly, anxious not to join Anya in the water.
“Ed,” she said. “DC Chiles needs directions.”
Ed looked over at Johnny. “Where do you need to get to?”
“Natasha Williams’s house.”
“That's easy.”
Ed pointed past Johnny and relayed a set of directions. Johnny nodded thanks and walked away.
Lesley and Ed stood in silence, gazing down at Anya. Lesley scanned the lagoon, looking for signs of disturbance. At last she heard the gate opening as Gail came through.
“Sorry it took me a while,” she said. “We had to lug all our kit over here. It'd be much easier if we could put a boat in the lagoon.”
“That's not possible, I'm afraid,” Ed said. “It's a protected habitat.”
“This is a special case,” Gail told him.
“It's not just National Trust rules,” he said. “It's a Site of Special Scientific Interest. It’s the law.”
Gail gestured towards Lesley. “But she’s the law.”
Lesley gritted her teeth. “I can't just override laws Gail, and you know it.”
> Gail sighed. “Yeah.”
She looked out at Anya floating on the lagoon. “Poor woman. Have we confirmed identity?”
Lesley nodded. “Anya Davinski. She was a person of interest in Simone Browning’s murder.”
“Really?”
“She was one of two women in an argument on Monday night, around the time that Simone died. We were trying to find her yesterday, have a chat with her about what they were arguing about.”
“And you didn't manage to?” Gail said.
Lesley shook her head.
“I wish I’d tried harder now. I wish I hadn't got on that boat.”
She sighed. “I wish I'd stayed here last bloody night.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Frankie stared into the cup of coffee that Adam had placed in front of her. It was going cold, developing a milky skin on the top.
Her body felt heavy and her chest hollow. She couldn't get the image of Anya, face down in the lagoon, out of her head.
Adam sat next to her, his arm around her shoulders. He looked into her eyes, his face full of worry.
“You don't need to go into work today,” he told her.
Frankie frowned. She hadn't thought about work, not since the moment she'd gone through that gate, not since the moment she'd looked out of the hide and spotted the object in the water. Not since the moment she'd realised it wasn't a floating log, but a body. She felt numb.
“I don't know what to do,” she said.
“You don't need to do anything,” he told her. “You've had a shock. Just sit here, go easy on yourself.”
She swallowed. “I need to tell Natasha.”
“Ed will have done that,” he said. “He was there, wasn't he?”
“He was there when I left.” Frankie closed her eyes. “I couldn't face the police.” She rubbed her eyes and looked towards the window. “They'll be coming here, won't they? They'll want to talk to me.”
“I can put them off,” he said. “Tell them to wait till you're ready.”
No. “They need to find whoever killed her, they need to get evidence. I might know something.”
“Do you know something?”
She shook her head and wiped a tear from her cheek.
The Island Murders (Dorset Crime Book 3) Page 16