Storm Force: A chilling Norfolk Broads crime thriller (British Detective Tanner Murder Mystery Series Book 7)

by David Blake

  ‘Not really. The handle’s been sticking recently, leaving me worried that if someone pulls on it too hard, the entire door will fall off.’

  A most unladylike snort blasted out through Christine’s nose.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Tanner enquired, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

  ‘Sorry. You caught me off guard with that one. That was all.’

  ‘OK, but you should know, I’m not only holding the door open for you, I’m holding it up as well. And it’s not the lightest of car doors either. To be honest, probably the opposite.’

  ‘I suppose I’d better get in then, hadn’t I.’

  ‘I suppose you had,’ Tanner smiled, taking a moment to watch as she lowered herself down into the car’s sumptuous cream leather seats.

  Carefully closing the door, he scooted back around to the other side.

  Watching him climb in, Christine flipped the sun visor down to check what little makeup she had on in the mirror she found lurking behind it. ‘So, how was your day?’

  ‘Busy, unfortunately.’

  ‘Any news on that missing girl?’

  ‘Not a word.’

  ‘Well, it’s only been a few days. She’ll probably turn up at a boyfriend’s house somewhere.’

  Tanner clipped in his seatbelt to start the engine. ‘Unfortunately, it will be a week tomorrow since she disappeared. We ran out of family and friends to ask four days ago.’

  ‘Didn’t anything come from the press conference?’

  ‘Just the usual round of pointless crank calls,’ he replied, shaking his head. ‘I still don’t think we should have told them that she had a butterfly tattooed on her arm. Giving the press such details only seems to give every man and his dog jumping on the phone something to talk about. It doesn’t exactly help that we’ve still got Professional bloody Standards sniffing about, either.’

  ‘How is DI Cooper, anyway?’

  ‘Well, he’s still with us, more’s the pity.’

  ‘But not for long, though, surely?’

  Tanner cast his eyes over his shoulder to begin reversing the car. ‘According to Forrester, they’ve yet to find a single shred of evidence to suggest that he was being coerced by the Clayton family.’

  ‘Then why was he behaving so erratically?’

  ‘Frankly, I’ve no idea. All I can think of is that he was so pissed-off with me for showing up when I did, he was trying to do everything he could to make me look like an incompetent idiot.’

  Christine shook her head. ‘I’m not buying that. Not from what you’ve told me.’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe I was reading more into it than was actually there. Maybe we all were.’

  ‘How’s he been taking it?’

  ‘He still seems to hate me, if that’s what you mean. More so since Forrester made me the SIO for the missing girl investigation. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was scurrying about looking for a transfer.’

  ‘Not before being cleared by Professional Standards, though?’

  ‘Probably not,’ Tanner agreed, just as his phone began to ring from inside his salt-encrusted sailing jacket. ‘Shit,’ he cursed, tugging on the handbrake. ‘Please don’t tell me that’s the office.’

  Christine waited patiently as he scrabbled around for his phone.

  ‘Tanner speaking.’

  A moment of silence followed.

  ‘OK. Understood. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

  ‘Er…’ began Christine, watching as he tucked his phone away, ‘we’re supposed to be at the restaurant in ten minutes.’

  Tanner offered her an apologetic grimace. ‘I’m really sorry. Looks like we’re going to have to re-schedule. A body’s been found over at Thorndike Manor. Forrester wants me to head straight over.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  LIKE MOST PEOPLE living in and around the Norfolk Broads, Tanner had heard of Thorndike Manor. He’d even seen pictures of it. But as he was waved through its towering black wrought iron gates, nothing could have prepared him for just how imposing the estate was, especially the main building planted squarely in the middle.

  With his car parked between DCI Forrester’s gleaming black BMW 7 Series and Cooper’s equally luxurious bullet-grey Audi A5, Tanner levered himself out to peer up at the 16th Century mansion.

  As his eyes climbed steadily up its crumbling red brick walls, all the way to a series of triangular crow-stepped gables, they paused to rest on four elongated rectangular chimney stacks, leaving him wondering how the whole thing had remained standing for such a long time. The chimneys alone looked as if they’d topple like dominos if someone was to so much as breathe on them.

  Finding the entrance, he nodded briefly at a uniformed constable, standing to attention underneath the building’s wide arched alcove before ducking inside. There he found himself gazing around a resplendent wood-panelled foyer; portraits of long-dead members of the British aristocracy staring down their aquiline noses at him, as if he was of no more significance than a stray speck of dust.

  With the sound of voices drifting down from the floor above, he made his way up an ornately carved staircase to a half-open door.

  Stepping through, he found himself inside a sumptuous stately bedroom in the centre of which stood an impressive Regency-styled four poster bed, one that was surrounded by his colleagues from CID, as well as numerous overall-clad police forensics officers.

  Craning his neck to see what, or more likely who it was lying on the bed who they all seemed to be staring at, an all-too familiar voice boomed out from behind him.

  ‘Ah, there you are!’

  Tanner turned to see DCI Forrester’s shining bald head peering at him from around the door he was still standing beside.

  ‘You made good time.’

  ‘I was already in the car,’ he replied, with a sanguine smile, stepping forward to find someone else lurking behind the door; a tall, stick-thin man with a stern bony face, dressed head to foot in the pristine uniform of a high-ranking police officer.

  ‘Superintendent Whitaker, this is Detective Inspector John Tanner.’

  ‘Evening, sir,’ Tanner responded, bringing himself to attention.

  ‘As I think I mentioned,’ Forrester continued, his attention remaining with the superintendent, ‘Tanner will be acting as the Senior Investigating Officer.’

  ‘I will?’ Tanner enquired, that being the first he’d heard of it.

  Forrester whipped his head around to fix his eyes on him. ‘Well, you don’t expect me to do it, do you?’ he enquired, before turning to offer the superintendent an amused grimace.

  Either unwilling or perhaps unable to appreciate Forrester’s rather poor attempt at humour, the superintendent took a moment to look Tanner up and down. ‘Forrester has always spoken very highly of you, Detective Inspector.’

  Unsure quite how to respond to that, Tanner held the man’s gaze to shift his weight from one foot to the other.

  ‘As has Commander Bardsley.’

  ‘Right,’ Tanner eventually replied, but only because he felt it necessary to say something.

  ‘For both your sakes,’ Whitaker continued, his eyes taking them in, ‘I sincerely hope he’s right!’

  ‘I can assure you,’ interjected Forrester, ‘John is our very best man.’

  Whitaker sent an imperious snort shooting out through his expansive flaring nostrils. ‘That’s as maybe, but it’s not exactly saying much now, is it. You’ve only got two other DIs, one of whom is currently being investigated by Professional Standards.’

  ‘For which no evidence has been found.’

  ‘In my experience, where there’s smoke there’s fire.’

  The flippant remark left Forrester clearing his throat. ‘You mean, of course, that everyone is innocent until proven guilty, something which naturally extends to our own members of staff. And from what I was told before leaving the office, they’re intending to clear Detective Inspector Cooper of all charges.’

  ‘Yes, well,’ came Whitaker�
�s dismissive response, his steely blue eyes returning to Tanner’s. ‘I suppose I’d be a little happier if he was the only member of your CID department who’d been under the microscope of Professional Standards.’

  ‘Which is probably why they’ve gained a reputation for being somewhat overenthusiastic,’ Forrester continued, rallying to Tanner’s defence.

  The superintendent slowly peeled his eyes off Tanner to gaze over towards the bed. ‘Anyway, that aside, whoever did this needs to be found, and sooner rather than later. The media attention is going to be huge.’

  It was Tanner’s turn to clear his throat. ‘Forgive me, but does that mean we know the body’s identity?’

  ‘It’s none other than Lord Blackwell’s son, Sir Michael Blackwell,’ Whitaker stated, lifting his chin to glare down his nose at first Tanner, then Forrester. ‘Which, simply put, means that under absolutely no circumstances are either one of you going to fuck this thing up. Is that understood?’

  ‘Fully, sir,’ Forrester replied, pulling his shoulders back to shift the attention over to his most senior officer. ‘Isn’t that right, Tanner?’

  ‘Er…absolutely, sir,’ Tanner replied, albeit with considerably less conviction.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LEFT REELING FROM the news that he’d been made the SIO for what was looking likely to be the single most high-profile investigation of his career to date, without Forrester having even bothered to ask if he wanted to be, Tanner excused himself to slink away from the unwelcome scrutiny of Norfolk’s most senior police officer.

  Skulking over to where he could see their medical examiner, Dr Johnstone, deep in conversation with DI Vicky Gilbert, together with the still relatively new to CID, DC Mark Townsend, in a tired despondent tone he made the effort to catch the doctor’s eye. ‘OK, so…what’ve we got?’

  As his colleagues turned their strangely ashen coloured faces towards him, a narrow gap opened up, just enough for Tanner to see for himself.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ he gagged, the acidic taste of uninvited bile catching at the back of his throat.

  Lying on the bed was the naked body of a middle aged man, his eyes staring up at the bed’s silk-lined canopy, sun-bronzed limbs handcuffed to its ornately carved dark wooden posts. But none of that was what had made Tanner retch so badly. The body’s chest cavity had been prised apart, the curved tips of its ribs jutting out like the jaws of a feasting lion. And bulging half-out of his mouth was what Tanner suspected to be the man’s blood-filled heart.

  ‘Pretty much as you can see,’ Johnstone replied, taking a moment to follow Tanner’s gaze. ‘But there are some interesting aspects, which I suspect are worth making a note of.’

  ‘Some interesting aspects?’ Tanner repeated, his eyes unable to tear themselves away from what had been shoved down into the man’s wide, open mouth.

  ‘Well, interesting to me, that is,’ the medical examiner continued, offering Tanner a nonchalant smile.

  Tanner shook his head clear as he struggled to fathom how it was possible for anyone to describe the horrific scene set before them in such a casual manner.

  ‘Anyway,’ Johnstone continued, returning his attention back to the body. ‘He’d had sexual intercourse shortly before this happened. How long before is difficult to tell, but I’d say he died about twenty-four hours ago, so probably sometime yesterday evening.’

  ‘With a man or a woman?’ Tanner enquired; his mind left to consider the likelihood that the person he’d been intimate with was the same person responsible for leaving him in such a state.

  ‘Oh, a woman, at least I’m fairly sure it was. There’s a film of what I believe to be vaginal transudate on his, er…manhood,’ Johnstone muttered, giving Vicky a brief but obviously embarrassed glance, ‘but I will of course need to confirm that.’

  ‘Do you think it’s possible for a woman to have done that to him?’

  ‘If you’re asking if a woman would have been able to open up his chest cavity, surgically remove his heart to place inside the mouth of the person she’d only just been having intimate relations with, then yes, of course. From a purely physical perspective, just about anyone could have done this, male or female.’

  ‘Not with their bare hands, though?’

  ‘Well, no, but they wouldn’t have needed anything fancy. A simple hacksaw would have done the trick. You can see where the breastbone’s been cut, here,’ he gestured, leaning over the body, ‘so allowing his ribs to be pulled apart. There’s nothing to suggest that a surgical spreader was used, either; at least nothing obvious.’

  ‘May we at least assume that he was dead before all this happened?’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s probably the worst part,’ Johnstone began, slowly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, ‘at least for our victim here. He was still alive when whoever was responsible got to work. How long he lasted is difficult to tell, but there are no immediate signs that his heart stopped before eventually being removed.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  LEAVING JOHNSTONE TO continue with his work, Tanner pulled Vicky to the side of the dimly-lit wood-panelled room. ‘Do we know who found the body?’ he asked, keeping his voice respectfully low.

  ‘A housekeeper by the name of Margorie Wilson.’

  Tanner glanced furtively about. ‘Any idea if she’s still here?’

  ‘I assumed you’d want a word, so I asked her to wait downstairs.’

  ‘OK, good. Thank you.’

  Vicky glanced surreptitiously over Tanner’s shoulder to watch Forrester usher a high ranking uniformed police officer out through the door. ‘Who’s the brass?’

  ‘That, my dear, is Superintendent Whitaker.’

  ‘I thought he looked familiar. Dare I ask what he was doing here?’

  ‘I think he just wanted to make his presence felt, given the size of the house we’re standing in, and the identity of the man lying spread-eagled on one of its larger than average four poster beds.’

  ‘I assume that means we’re proceeding on the basis that the victim is who everyone’s saying he is.’

  ‘Well, the superintendent seems to think so. He probably plays golf with his father. Do we know anything else?’

  ‘Only what Johnstone told you.’

  ‘What about the housekeeper?’

  ‘She was too upset for me to get much out of.’

  They both took a moment to gaze over at the body.

  ‘At least we won’t be short of DNA evidence,’ Vicky continued, her eyes steering themselves over towards the victim’s limp sexual organ.

  ‘Perhaps, but only if it was the woman he was with who cut out his heart. Even then, she’s going to have to have prior form for us to find her.’

  Vicky’s eyes remained transfixed by the body. ‘If it was her, she must have been seriously pissed-off to have done that to him. I appreciate the saying that hell has no fury like a woman scorned, but I think this would take that particular idiom to a whole new level.’

  ‘I must admit, it does seem to be just a tad over-dramatic to be the result of a lover’s tiff, although choosing to remove the man’s heart would perhaps suggest otherwise.’