by David Blake
Despite having received their instructions, neither one of the two constables moved. They just continued to stare down at the man’s shattered face.
‘Sometime today, if you please!’ said Tanner, almost shouting.
Apologising, they began stumbling out. As they did, he saw one of them grab hold of the kitchen door.
‘And don’t touch anything, for Christ’s sake!’
His phone began to ring.
‘It’s Burgess,’ he said. ‘I’d better take it.’ Before doing so, he said, ‘Could you get that patio door open, and then make sure everyone comes in through the back, not the front? And then get a forensics team down here.’
Pleased to see her pulling on a pair of latex disposable gloves before doing so, he answered the phone.
‘Tanner.’
‘It’s Burgess. What’s going on?’
‘We’ve found Simon Richardson,’ he said, glancing back down at the body and muttering, ‘at least I think we have.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘I’d say so.’
Seeing Jenny open the patio door just in time to usher in a couple of paramedics, Tanner stepped to one side to allow them through. ‘We’ve begun cordoning off the area and are in the process of asking the neighbours for statements. Some paramedics have arrived, and DC Evans is putting a call in for forensics.’
‘So, you think he was murdered then?’
‘That’s a definite yes, I’m afraid.’
There was a long silence from the other end of the line before Burgess asked, ‘Any ideas?’
Tanner stopped for a moment. Burgess had never asked for his advice before. He hadn’t even asked for his opinion. It was clear to Tanner that this was a sign that the DI was beginning to struggle, although that should hardly be a surprise. This was only Burgess’s first murder investigation, and it had so far produced three victims, all of which were connected in some way, the most recent of whom having been, only the day before, the prime suspect.
‘I think this one is going to come down to motive,’ replied Tanner. ‘Maybe he found out something that someone didn’t want him to know. Although, judging by the injuries he’s sustained, it may have been a revenge attack, possibly by someone who thought he’d murdered one of the victims.’
‘Just a sec,’ said Burgess, ‘I’ve got Vicky waving something at me. Hang on.’
‘OK, no problem.’
While he waited, he looked over at Jenny who was just coming off the phone, out on the patio.
Stepping back inside, she asked, ‘What’s happening?’
Tanner shrugged back a reply, just as Burgess came back on the line.
‘You still there?’
‘Yes, still here.’
‘Right, we’ve got some news on that receptionist you asked us about – Susan Follett.’
Raising an eyebrow over at Jenny, Tanner said, ‘Go on.’
‘You said she’s a married mother with one child.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Well, she’s neither! She’s never been married and there’s no record of her having had any children.’
‘She’s been lying to us then.’
‘There’s something else as well,’ continued Burgess. ‘Vicky’s just found out that about five years ago, she and Simon Richardson used to be engaged!’
‘Really?’ questioned Tanner, with genuine surprise.
‘Looks like it. He was the one to call if off, and at the very last minute as well.’
‘Sounds like we’d better go down and have another chat with her.’
‘I think you need to bring her in for questioning,’ said Burgess, ‘especially in light of what’s just happened to her ex-fiancé.’
‘And if she doesn’t agree?’
‘Then you’ll have to arrest her!’
‘Without any evidence?’
‘There’s enough!’
‘I’m sorry, Burgess, but there’s nothing! I’m happy to go down and have another chat with her, but I’m damned if I’m going to arrest her; not until we have some actual physical evidence, something that can connect her with at least one of the murders.’
With Burgess’s voice tightening with anger, he said, ‘I suggest we see what Barrington has to say about that!’
‘Then I suggest you go and ask him!’
With that, Tanner ended the call, and glared over at Jenny.
‘Twat!’ he said.
‘What was all that about?’
‘Looks like that receptionist over at Buxton Manor hasn’t exactly been truthful with us. She’s not married, and she doesn’t have any children.’
‘Then what were those pictures of, the ones she was going to show us?’
‘Probably someone else’s,’ he replied. ‘There’s something else as well. Vicky’s just found out that she used to be engaged to our late friend over there.’
‘Who, Simon?’
‘Uh-huh.’
As Jenny stared off into space, she paused for a moment before saying, ‘You know, I think I’ve remembered where I’d seen her before. There were pictures of her with Simon, on his Facebook page, from ages ago, but she was a hell of lot thinner back then.’ She looked over at his body. ‘So you think she’s been trying to frame Simon for the murders by using his semen?’
‘It’s beginning to look that way.’
‘And when she realised he wasn’t going to be charged, she came over here and did that to him?’
‘What’s the expression? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?’
‘Well, if that was her,’ said Jenny, ‘then she certainly rained hell down on him last night!’
Replacing his phone, Tanner said, ‘We’d better be off. Burgess seems to think she’s our new prime suspect, and he wants us to bring her in for questioning.’
‘You don’t sound so convinced.’
‘It’s not a question of what I think. At the moment we don’t have a single shred of evidence to connect her to any of this, and I’d prefer to wait until we do. We’ve already seen what can happen when you start arresting people for murder without having established a chain of evidence.’
There was a lull in the conversation, before Jenny asked, ‘So, what are we going to do?’
‘We’re going to have another chat with her. I’ll be very interested to hear what she says when we tell her that we know she lied to us about marriage and children, and the fact that she was engaged to Simon, the very man who she must have seen walk into Buxton Manor with another girl on his arm, one who he did marry.’
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
TURNING INTO BUXTON Manor carpark, it was immediately obvious that something was missing.
‘Her car’s gone!’ stated Jenny.
Seeing that it was after half past five, Tanner said, ‘She’s probably finished for the day. I’ll pop inside and see if anyone knows where she is. You may as well wait here.’
Once inside, it was clear something wasn’t right. There was nobody behind the reception desk, the phone was ringing without being answered, and there were no less than three couples occupying the waiting area, some looking as if they’d been there for some time and their patience was wearing thin.
Glancing over the top of the reception desk, Tanner saw a nearly full cup of coffee beside the keyboard, one with a single mark of lipstick. Reaching over, he placed his hand around the cup.
It was stone cold.
Just then a voice called out from over to his left. ‘Mr and Mrs Jackson?’
As one of the three waiting couples began gathering up their belongings, the man mumbled, ‘And about bloody time too.’
Looking over to see who’d called their names, and seeing a middle-aged woman with greying blond hair standing beside the side door, Tanner asked, ‘Excuse me, but I’m looking for Susan Follett?’
‘Aren’t we all!’ exclaimed the lady.
‘She’s not here then?’
‘She is not, no! She walked out about two hours ago, and without even both
ering to tell anyone!’
Thanking her for her time, Tanner raced back out into the carpark and sprinted over to his car.
Opening the door, he said, ‘She’s gone!’
‘What, gone gone?’
‘She walked out just after we left. You did make a note of her number plate, didn’t you?’
‘I did.’
‘OK, give Burgess a call. Tell him what’s happened, and ask him to put out a radio call for her, or her car. Then ask him for her address. If she’s about to do a runner, hopefully she’ll stop by her house first.’
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
WITHIN A COUPLE of minutes of making the call, they had Susan Follett’s address, and were on the way up to Bodham, a small town nearly an hour’s drive north from Buxton Manor, where she was supposed to have rented a flat.
The flat in question was on the ground floor of a two-storey red brick ex-council estate, one of many thousands that were offered for sale under the right-to-buy scheme of the 1980s.
As they parked directly outside the flat, a number of the local residents began looking over to see who’d turned up.
Stepping out of his XJS, Tanner couldn’t help but feel conspicuous. He often did when driving around council estates. Although his car was well over thirty years old, it was still a Jag, and vehicles of such pedigree weren’t often seen parking up in such places.
‘There’s no sign of her car,’ observed Jenny.
‘No, but we’d better see if anyone’s at home.’
Walking up to the old white PVC front door, Tanner rang the bell and waited.
An empty chime rang out inside, but there was no response. A voice eventually croaked out from over to their right, ‘She ain’t in!’
Turning, Tanner saw a woman who looked older than she probably was glaring at them from the next door down. Squirming on her hip was a red-faced, grubby-looking six-month old baby, who seemed intent on breaking free in order to reach something on the concrete path.
‘Sorry?’ asked Tanner, even though he’d heard what she’d said.
‘You’re looking for Suze, right?’
Assuming she meant Susan Follett, Tanner replied, ‘We are, yes.’
‘Well, as I said, she ain’t in.’
‘When did you see her last?’
‘She ain’t bin ‘ere for days!’
‘I see. I don’t suppose you know where she might be?’
With a blank stare, the woman said, ‘Not a clue, sorry!’ but in a way which made it sound like she wasn’t.
Tanner wasn’t at all surprised by her apparent lack of cooperation. It must have been abundantly obvious that they weren’t there for a social visit, and anything else must mean trouble.
Realising that there was probably only one way they were going to get anything even vaguely useful out of her, Tanner pulled out his ID and said, ‘I’m Detective Inspector Tanner, and this is Detective Constable Evans, Norfolk Police. We’re just looking to ask Susan a couple of questions, that’s all.’
‘No problem.’
‘So, do you know where she is?’
‘Nope!’ she replied, and grinned at him.
Replacing his ID, Tanner decided to take a different tack.
‘OK, how about this. Either you can start trying to be a little more helpful, or we’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice? We’ll then be able to have this exact same conversation from the comfort of a holding cell.’
As the baby on her hip began to whine as well as wriggle, the woman said, ‘You can try Fen Marsh Mill, if you like.’
‘Fen Marsh Mill?’ repeated Tanner.
‘That’s what I said.’
‘And what would she be doing there?’
‘How’m I supposed to know? She goes there often enough though, for weekends and the like. She owns it, at least she says she does. Her mum left it to her when she died – not that it’s done her much good. It’s in a right state. She can’t afford to do it up, and nobody wants to buy it, so it just sits there, rotting.’
After thanking the woman for her time, and heading back to the car, Tanner asked Jenny, ‘Do you know Fen Marsh Mill?’
‘Of course! It’s a well-known landmark, like all the old mills. I didn’t know it was privately owned though.’
Starting the engine, Tanner asked, ‘Would you be able to direct me?’
‘I’ve only seen it from the river before. It’s at the top end of the Ant. I’ve no idea how to get there by car though! Hold on, let me take a look,’ and she pulled out her phone, and scrolled to its map application.
Tanner put his seat belt on and waited.
It wasn’t long before Jenny said, ‘It’s actually not far from Buxton Manor. But I can’t see any way we’ll be able to get there by car. Our best bet will be to drive to here,’ she said, pointing at the screen, ‘and to then get a boat over the river.’
‘There’s no way to get there from the other side?’
‘No, look. It’s right in the middle of Reedham Marsh. We’d have to go to Irstead Street, here, and then walk all the way round. It would take hours!’
‘OK, but is there going to be a boat there to get us across?’
‘I don’t know. There’s public mooring all the way along the bank, so hopefully there’d be someone there who’d be willing to take us.’
‘And if there isn’t?’
It was a good point. ‘I’d better request a patrol boat to meet us there.’
‘And I’d better give Burgess a call to let him know what we’re up to.’
CHAPTER FORTY SIX
UNABLE TO GET through to Burgess’s mobile, Tanner was forced to call Wroxham Police Station instead.
He was put through to DS Gilbert, and skipping the normal pleasantries, he asked, ‘Where’s Burgess?’
‘He’s out with Cooper. We had a reported sighting of Susan Follett’s car, so they went out to take a look.’
‘And where was that?’
‘In a carpark opposite Fen Marsh Mill, not far from Buxton Manor.’
‘Why the hell didn’t anyone tell us?’ demanded Tanner, with rising anger. ‘I mean, it would have been useful to know, given that we’ve spent the best part of an hour driving all the way up to her bloody flat!’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ apologised Vicky, ‘but I think he just wanted to take a look for himself.’
‘Well, fair enough, I suppose, but someone could have at least told us!’
As Tanner took a calming breath, Vicky apologised again, leaving Tanner to say, ‘Anyway, we’re heading that way ourselves. There was no sign of Follett at her flat, and her neighbour told us she might be staying at the mill, which is probably why her car’s there. So maybe you can tell Burgess that when you next speak to him?’
‘Will do, sir,’ responded Vicky.
Ending the call, he glanced over at Jenny. ‘Communication’s good here, isn’t it!’
‘I think Burgess is still getting used to you being around.’
‘I suppose I’ve only been here for a few days, although it feels like a hell of a lot longer. So anyway, did you sort out a patrol boat?’
‘I did, but they said the nearest one would take about an hour to get there.’
‘An hour?’
‘They’ve got to stick to the river’s speed limit, same as everyone else.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Between four to six miles an hour, depending on where you are.’
‘Wouldn’t it be quicker for them to walk?’
‘Not if they had to carry the boat.’
Tanner didn’t smile at that one, so she continued. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll find someone who can give us a lift over.’
Following Jenny’s instructions, it took them just over forty-five minutes to reach the carpark where Susan Follett’s car had been spotted. By that time it had gone half past seven, and the sky was becoming increasingly dark.
Turning in, they saw DI Cooper pacing up and down beside the car they’d b
een looking for. He had his hands buried deep inside his pockets and was staring at the ground, looking as if he’d rather have been somewhere else.
Seeing Tanner’s XJS pull in, Cooper slipped his hands out, stood up straight and marched over to meet them, running a hand through his mousy brown hair as he did, presumably in a bit to straighten it.
As Tanner climbed out, he asked, ‘Where’s Burgess?’
Looking over at the other side of the river, Cooper answered, ‘He got someone to give him a lift over to the windmill.’
‘What, on his own?’ questioned Tanner, as he joined Cooper in staring rather helplessly out over the narrow stretch of river.
On the opposite bank stood Fen Marsh Mill, its conical red-brick tower rising up from the river’s edge. Surrounding its base was a thick bed of reeds, which swayed back and forth in the gentle breeze, whispering to each other as they did. At the top of the mill, blades hung like a broken crucifix, and with the sun beginning its inevitable descent towards the horizon beyond, the dilapidated structure was taking on an ominous dark form against what was fast becoming a blood-red sky.
‘He only went to have a look,’ replied Cooper.
‘But why didn’t you go with him?’
‘He told me to stay here, in case Miss Follett showed up.’
‘And where did you think she was, if her car was parked here?’
‘I think we just assumed she’d dumped the car here and done a runner.’
‘You do know that she owns the mill, don’t you?’
With a confused look, Cooper asked, ‘The mill, as in that mill?’
‘No, sergeant. A completely different one that just happens to look just like it!’ Cooper seemed unable to grasp the fact that Tanner was being sarcastic, forcing him to say, ‘Yes, Cooper, that one! She inherited the damned thing from her parents.’