by David Blake
‘She’ll be blown away if she’s not careful,’ Tanner replied, just as they saw Sanders’ head re-appear through his cockpit’s canopy to dump a large holdall onto the decking beside his boat, staring out at the woman as he did. ‘You know, I think she may be going to see our brand new friend.’
The moment he said it, another violent gust of wind tore into the woman, sending her stumbling away from the dyke to begin skirting around the edge of the carpark.
‘My money’s still on the flying dog,’ Vicky mused, watching as she disappeared somewhere behind them.
Tanner let out an exhausted sigh. ‘Anyway, I suppose we’d better be heading back to the station. If the wind gets any stronger than this, Forrester really will have to send out a search party for us.’
CHAPTER FIFTY THREE
THE MOMENT THEY entered the main office, even before Tanner had reached his desk, they saw Forrester come bursting out of his to begin marching his way over towards them.
‘Looks like someone’s been missing us,’ whispered Vicky, leaning her head into Tanner’s.
‘You’d better let me deal with this,’ he began, his eyes drifting over towards the kitchen and the coffee machine he could see perched on its counter. ‘I suggest you get back to that desk of yours. See if you can find out what happened to that forensics report. You know the question we need an answer to. Does the blood found on that hacksaw belong to Sir Michael?’
‘Will do.’
‘When you’ve done that, could you do me a favour?’
‘That probably depends on what it is.’
‘Can you make me a coffee?’ he asked, sending Vicky a look of imploring desperation before gazing ahead to meet Forrester’s rapidly approaching glare. ‘It looks like I’m going to need one.’
Seeing Vicky nod before slinking quietly away, he pulled himself straight as Forrester came storming up to him.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ the DCI demanded, his voice kept menacingly low.
‘Sorry, sir, we had another lead which I felt necessary to follow up.’
‘Despite my having told you not two hours ago to keep me more informed as to your whereabouts?’
‘I know, but a couple of things happened which I didn’t think could wait.’
‘Neither of which you’ve bothered to tell me about.’
‘Which is why I’m telling you now, sir,’ Tanner replied, feeling his blood pressure beginning to rise.
‘Then you’d better get on with it, hadn’t you!’
Tanner drew in a calming breath. ‘Someone saw a boat motoring away from the scene of the girl’s murder.’
‘Sorry, which girl’s murder was that? There have been so many, I’m beginning to lose track.’
‘The one Vicky and I went to look at this morning, over at Ludham.’
Forrester fell into a sullen silence, his eyes boring steadily down into Tanner’s. ‘I thought…’ he began, his voice rumbling like a brooding volcano, ‘…the witness said that the person had tripped over a mooring line before falling into the water?’
‘That was her initial impression, but after questioning, it turned out that she wasn’t quite as sure as she’d first thought.’
‘So you’ve come to the conclusion that she was murdered, have you?’
‘Johnstone came to the initial conclusion that she drowned.’
‘Right, good.’
‘However,’ Tanner continued, ‘he also found an indentation on the back of her head.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Forrester muttered quietly to himself, turning his head to glare wildly about.
‘The witness did say she thought she may have been hit by a falling branch, which could have been the cause of the head injury, as well as for her going into the river.’
‘I assume you didn’t find one?’
‘I’m afraid not, at least nothing large enough to have caused such an injury.’
‘That’s just great.’
‘Johnstone’s eventual opinion was that whatever caused the injury was more man-made than natural. He also thought it was similar to those found on the previous two women.’
‘Even better,’ Forrester replied, his tone soaked in acrid sarcasm. ‘And where did you go after that? On a camping trip up to the Lake District?’
‘I think that’s where we might have some more positive news,’ Tanner continued, doing his dogged best to ignore Forrester’s on-going barrage of flippant acrimonious remarks. ‘I mentioned before about another witness saying they saw a boat motoring away from the scene. She – I mean – the witness said the boat was a Fairline Squadron, just like the one Iain Sanders owns.’
Tanner could almost see the cogs of Forrester’s mind turning slowly around inside his head.
‘And this witness – she’s reliable, is she; in that she can tell one boat from another?’
‘She’s a – er – Broads Ranger, sir.’
Forrester’s eyes narrowed to the point where Tanner could barely see them. ‘I do hope you’re not about to tell me it was that woman you’ve been seeing so much of recently?’
‘If you’re referring to Christine, she just happened to be the Broads Ranger who was called to the scene.’
Seeing Forrester shake his head, rolling his eyes as he did, Tanner thought it was probably best for him to move the conversation along. ‘Anyway, that’s where Vicky and I went afterwards, to see if we could find him.’
‘And did you?’
Tanner nodded. ‘He was on board his boat.’
‘And…?’
‘Well, he didn’t exactly admit to murdering the girl, but his boat had been moved off its mooring since we were last there, and he was packing up to go somewhere, amongst his possessions being a large collection of tools which included both a hammer and a hacksaw.’
Forrester waited expectantly for a moment before eventually opening his mouth. ‘Is that it?’
‘Not quite. Whilst we were talking, I had a call from the guy who lives next to Happisburgh Lighthouse, the one whose daughter said she saw a woman being thrown over the side of a boat. He was calling to arrange a time for us to speak to her, but it made me realise something that I’m afraid I should have worked out a long time before. She’d told him that there were three men on board the boat the girl was thrown out of.’
The malevolent frown Forrester had been wearing since the start of the conversation began to ebb slowly away. ‘I assume you’re thinking that the three men she saw might have been Sir Michael, Toby Wallace and this Iain Sanders chap?’
Tanner nodded in response.
‘OK, I’d have to admit, that is interesting, at least more so than I was expecting.’
Vicky’s appearance beside Tanner with the coffee he’d requested held out in her hands had him smiling gratefully around. ‘Did you manage to get hold of forensics?’ he asked her, taking the proffered mug.
‘I spoke to someone who said the tests were completed this morning.’
‘So, why haven’t we received the results?’
‘He’s not sure.’
‘Don’t tell me they’ve lost them?’
‘He seemed to think it was more likely they’d been miss-filed than actually lost.’
‘You must be joking, surely,’ Tanner muttered, with mounting frustration. ‘Did you tell them just how important that one piece of evidence is to our entire investigation?’
‘I can’t say that I did, although I’m not sure what difference it would have made if I had.’
Forrester made a point of glaring down at his watch. ‘You do realise, Tanner, that we only have three hours before McMillan’s solicitor is legally entitled to march his client straight out the front door, meaning that any evidence we’ve collected so far will be as good as useless.’
‘Forgive me, sir, but it’s hardly my fault our forensics department seems to lack the ability to do basic filing.’
‘Did you apply for an extension, like I told you to?’
‘I’ve been wait
ing on forensics. The blood on that hacksaw is the only piece of non-circumstantial evidence we have.’
‘Then I suggest you get over there to help them find it!’
Tanner stopped to stare over at him. ‘You’re not being serious?’
‘Does it look like I’m joking?’
‘But – I don’t even know where they’re based.’
‘Yes, I can see how that’s going to be a problem,’ Forrester replied, folding his arms to place a pensive finger against the lose skin hanging from his chin. ‘Vicky, do you have any idea how Tanner here would be able to find somewhere he’s never been to before?’
‘Er…’ Vicky began, a playful smirk beginning to tug gently at the corners of her mouth, ‘…it was a while ago now, but didn’t someone invent something called a map?’
‘My God, you’re right!’
‘And with the recent invention of the internet,’ she continued, seemingly enjoying herself, ‘these days I think you can access them via a computer. And when you find something called a postcode, you can use another clever bit of kit known as satellite navigation. Apparently, it will take you straight there.’
‘Well, there we are!’ beamed Forrester, his attention returning to his senior DI. ‘Problem solve-ed!’
‘Most amusing,’ commented Tanner, without looking as if he had been. ‘Even if I was to go all the way over there, wherever they’re based, I can hardly imagine they’d allow me to start ploughing my way through all their files.’
‘Frankly, I don’t give a shit. I want those results found, and before eight o’clock. Under absolutely no circumstances am I having McMillan waltzing out of here one minute, only for the evidence proving he’s guilty of carving up Lord Blackwell’s son turning up the next, do you understand?’
‘And what if the forensics report comes back to say that the blood found on the hacksaw doesn’t belong to Sir Michael, whilst the real culprit is happily motoring his way down to the Caribbean?’
‘Then I suggest you arrange for a search warrant before he does.’
‘I’m sorry, I thought you wanted me over at forensics, emptying out their wastepaper baskets?’
‘Fortunately for us, you’re not the only person who works here.’
‘Could’ve fooled me,’ Tanner muttered, loud enough for both his colleague and boss to hear.
‘Always good to know my work here is being appreciated,’ Vicky said, forcing a jaded grin over at him.
‘Present company excepted, of course.’
‘I’m sure Vicky is more than capable of organising a forensics team to head over to Sanders’ boat.’
‘What about Cooper?’
‘What about him?’
‘Why can’t he go on a fishing trip for the missing evidence?’
‘Because you’re the SIO.’
‘Yes, of course. I nearly forgot. By the way, I’m not sure I ever did thank you for that.’
‘Which means it’s your responsibility to find it,’ Forrester continued.
‘I’d have thought, being that I am the SIO and everything, it would have been my choice who went.’
‘Just get yourself over there, Tanner, that’s an order!’
Tanner waited for Forrester to spin around to start heading back to his office before offering the back of his bald head an exaggerated salute. ‘Yes sir,’ he added, with undiluted sarcastic irreverence.
Turning to find Vicky glaring at him with her arms folded, he offered her a concerned frown. ‘Are you alright?’
‘If you want me to continue fetching coffee for you at a drop of a hat,’ she began, ‘as if I’m some sort of snot-nosed work placement student, may I suggest that you refrain from insinuating that I do bugger all around here.’
‘Ah, right. Sorry about that. It was said in the heat of the moment.’
‘I don’t care if it was said inside a pre-heated microwave.’
‘Er…I’m not sure you can pre-heat a microwave.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I do, yes, and sorry again.’
Vicky glared at him for a moment longer before her features gradually softened. ‘So – I suppose you want me to arrange for a forensics team to head over to Sanders’ boat.’
‘If you could, but first, I don’t suppose you could help me work out where our forensics department is based?’
‘Have you seriously never heard of Google?’
‘I must admit, I have, but to be honest, I’ve never been very good with search engines.’
‘How is it possible for someone not to be very good with search engines?’
Tanner shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I just never seem to know what to type in.’
Realising he was joking, Vicky couldn’t help but smile. ‘Then I suppose it’s fortunate for you that I’ve been there before. They’re over at Thorpe End. I’ll dig out their address, but I suggest you give them a call before you head over, just so they know to expect you.’
‘Makes sense.’
Seeing her about to head off, he glanced down at the still full coffee mug held at the end of his arm. ‘Er…before I do, I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could make me another coffee? This one seems to have gone cold.’
‘I do hope you’re joking?’
He looked up at her with an amused smirk. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll just have to get some snot-nosed work placement student to heat this one up in a pre-heatable microwave, although they may have to invent one that has the ability to pre-heat first, of course.’
CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR
JUST OVER FIFTEEN minutes later, Tanner arrived at the Norfolk Constabulary’s forensics department in Thorpe End, a small village lying on the border between Norwich city centre and the Norfolk Broads.
Leaving his XJS in the waterlogged carpark outside, he hurried in through a narrow inconspicuous door marked only by a small sign above. As he peeled off his hood to wipe the rain dripping from off the end of his nose, he stepped up to the reception desk to find that there was nobody behind it.
‘Hello!’ he called, staring about whilst digging out his formal ID. ‘Is anyone here?’
A moment later, a rotund man with a bald head and thick tortoiseshell rimmed glasses came hurrying through a door to the side. ‘Hello, yes, sorry. What can I do for you?’ he enquired, navigating himself behind the desk.
‘DI Tanner. I called earlier.’
‘That’s right, but as I said on the phone, I’m not sure how we can help.’
‘And as I said on the phone, the results you’ve somehow managed to lose are vital to a multiple murder investigation.’
‘We’re fully aware of that, thank you, I just don’t see how your presence here will enable us to find them any quicker.’
‘Can’t I help go through your files?’