A Dark Sin: Hidden Norfolk - Book 8

by Dalgliesh, J M

  "I see that as problematic."

  Tom tilted his head to one side. "Estimated time of death is around one o'clock in the morning. We've no witnesses other than the man who found him when he went to walk his dog this morning. The victim's car is parked in his driveway, and we have no indication as to why he came to be walking on the common at that time of night – if he was walking."

  "You doubt it?"

  "Not dressed for it, that's for certain. He looked more like he was ready for a night discussing his handicap at the clubhouse bar to me. I've left Cassie at the victim's place in Heacham to tie things off but it doesn't look like anything out of the ordinary happened there, no break-ins or arguments reported by the local nosy neighbour." Tom glanced over as Eric hung up on his call, spinning his chair to face them. "What have you found out about Gavin Felgate?"

  "A fair bit," Eric said, retrieving his notepad from his desk behind him. "I'll skip the home address because you've been there. He was fifty-four, married to his wife, Jane. They have two children, Luke and Kirsten, nineteen and sixteen, respectively. It looks like they are separated, Jane has a registered address back this way in Hunstanton. The children live with her according to the electoral roll."

  "Good, we haven't had any luck tracing the next of kin so it would be good to get over there before word reaches them by other means. What about Felgate himself? I understand he's a journalist."

  Eric nodded. "I checked out his profile on LinkedIn. He's got a number of press accolades to his name but nothing much recent. I get the impression he dropped out of the rat race to lead a simpler life up on the coast."

  "Or he wasn't left with any other option," Tamara said with a wry smile. "Who does he work for now?"

  "According to his profile he writes for several publications so, at first, I thought he was freelancing but after a bit of digging and connecting the dots, it turns out all the publications listed are actually owned by the same parent company. The business is quite a player in East Anglia, covering all manner of news, politics and lifestyle publications in print and digital formats."

  "Where was he based, do we know?" Tom asked.

  "Offices in Norwich. I called the reception – unofficially, of course – and they confirmed Felgate works there but said he wasn't signed in today. Obviously, we know why."

  "Okay, thanks, Eric. Good work. I'll take a drive down after speaking to the next of kin."

  "The estranged wife?"

  Tom nodded. "Separated or not, she's still his wife."

  "I'll tag along," Tamara said. Tom raised an eyebrow. She mock grimaced. "Writing performance reviews is a bit dry. I could use some human company."

  "Eric, can you follow up with forensics and have Felgate's personal effects transferred up here as quickly as possible?"

  "Yes, of course," Eric said, making a note. "Anything in particular you want to prioritise?"

  "He wasn't robbed as far as we could tell; still had his wallet, mobile and so on. I would like to know who he's been talking to recently as a starting point, help us to build the timeline of his last couple of days."

  "Leave it with me."

  * * *

  Tom recounted the discussion he and Cassie had with Felgate's neighbour to Tamara as he drove them along the coast road. Tom had to admit he was curious as to who the mystery visitor was that Terry Sherman described. It could just as easily have been a work colleague as it could a love interest. He'd explored the rest of the house himself before leaving and hadn't found anything upstairs to suggest a woman stayed over with any frequency at all; there were no feminine toiletries in either the bedroom or bathroom and only one toothbrush in the holder. Tamara listened intently to his description of the scene on Roydon Common, asking occasional questions if she wanted clarification but he had the impression she wasn't as focussed as she would usually be. Once he'd concluded all the details, conversation between them fell away. Tom couldn't help but think she had much more on her mind than just the new case.

  "Do you mind if I make a quick call?" he asked. Tamara smiled, shaking her head before returning her gaze back out of the window. Tom activated the hands-free and called Alice. He'd set off so early that morning. Both she and Saffy were still asleep when he left. Alice was due to start her shift in an hour so he might just be able to catch her before she set off.

  "Hi Tom."

  "Hey, just a quick call to see if everything went okay this morning with you guys?"

  "Yes, thanks. Saffy bounded into class. They're starting Forest School today," Tamara glanced across and smiled at the thought, "and she's excited. This was such a good idea. I'm pleased we made the move. Are you still okay to pick her up from Mum's after you finish work?"

  "Yes, will do. We've picked up a new case… but don't worry, I'll make it over there."

  "Sounds interesting."

  "That's a good description. I'll tell you later."

  "Don't feel you have to," she said and he laughed. "But if you are running behind, please let Mum know. You know how she gets about punctuality and she's got her music lessons this evening."

  "She should be getting her hearing checked. That's more pressing."

  "That's quite enough of that, Tom Janssen!" Alice said, adopting a mock telling-off tone. "I know she's not got a musical ear—"

  "A musical ear? I've heard scrapping cats that are more tuneful."

  "Speak to you later. Bye!"

  "Have a good shift," Tom said, ending the call with a smile on his face.

  Tamara glanced at him, smiling. "It sounds like Saffy is enjoying school. I take it it's new. Have you moved her recently?"

  Tom nodded without taking his eyes from the road. "After the turmoil of the last year, losing her father like that, it just made sense to put her in an environment that suited her. Where she is now fits that bill. She's thriving."

  "Good. I'm pleased for her. She's a lovely little girl." Tamara's smile faded as she looked back out of the window, her own preoccupations settling over her like a thick blanket.

  "If there's anything you want to talk about, I'm happy to listen," Tom said. Tamara glanced at him and offered a weak smile but said nothing. "Obviously, if you want me to butt out you can say that too!"

  She grinned, resting her head on her hand, her elbow wedged against the passenger window. "Just some stuff I have to work through."

  "With your mum?"

  "Yes."

  "Can I ask one question?"

  She looked over, her eyes narrowing. "If you must."

  "Since when have you been called Tammy?"

  They both laughed, Tamara shaking her head.

  "It's taken me thirty-five years to get far enough away from Bristol to lose that name, and if you use it again, I'll have you manning a radar trap on the coast road for the whole of next summer. Okay?"

  "Understood."

  The remainder of the drive to Hunstanton was made in silence. Tamara sat quietly in the passenger seat watching the fields pass by without saying a word. She seemed preoccupied but Tom didn't want to intrude on her thoughts. She said she wanted human company but that didn't necessarily mean she desired conversation. Tom knew the town well and he bypassed the centre taking a right turn onto Park Road. The road ran downhill almost to the sea which was visible between the small row of houses, almost on the seafront, and the buildings of an indoor bowling green and the Oasis Leisure Centre. But they weren't going that far. Tom pulled the car into the kerb and cast an eye along the row of Victorian semis, looking for Jane Felgate's.

  The house was midway down the road, directly opposite the greenery surrounding the community centre. He switched off the engine, an action that drew Tamara out of her self-imposed period of reflection.

  "What do you think is going on?" she asked. For a moment he wasn't sure if she was talking about her personal life or the case. "It's early I know, but from what you say it sounds like there was at least one other person present either at the time or prior to Felgate's death. Do you think it was an
intentional homicide, a suicide gone wrong or some kind of… weird accident?"

  Tom drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "I agree, he went out on the common with someone else or, at least, to meet someone there. His car is still parked on the driveway at his house and I'll guarantee he didn't walk from Heacham to Roydon in the kit he had on. From what I saw on his dining room table it looks like he was into something but as to what, I don't know." He glanced over to the house they were visiting. "Once we're done here, I'm hoping his boss will have some insight into what he was working on. Beyond that, if we can get into his laptop, we might have a better idea."

  "You think it might be connected to his work?"

  Tom shrugged. "Right now, not a lot about this is making sense to me. Why there, why the common? It's a daft place to meet, even if you feel the need to be clandestine, I can think of any number of better locations where you won't be seen."

  "And what's with the noose?"

  Tom nodded, cracking his door open and Tamara, waiting for a car to pass by first, did the same.

  Chapter Five

  Their knock on the door was answered by a gangly young man. He was almost the same height as Tom, appearing taller by standing on the raised step of the front door, but his build was slight. His complexion was pale and his eyes narrow, staring out at them from beneath a mop of brown hair that stood up and away from his head in every direction; thick and unmanageable. Tom introduced them and the young man was remarkably unfazed, looking back over his shoulder and shouting for his mother.

  Jane Felgate, in stark contrast to her son, was shorter and fuller of figure. She had blonde hair running to her shoulders, wide blue eyes and exhibited an anxious disposition as she came to the door, drying her hands on a checked tea towel. Inviting them in, she stood aside and shooed her son indoors and out of the way.

  Seated in the front living room a few minutes later, Jane Felgate sat forward, perched on the edge of the sofa, still clutching the tea towel. The whites of her knuckles were visible, so tight was her grip. Her eyes watered a little but aside from that, she displayed little outward emotion but Tom sensed there was a great deal repressed, based on her body language: rigid and controlled.

  "I–I can't believe it…" she said slowly, her eyes passing between both Tom and Tamara. "Are you sure?" The question seemed born out of hope more than anything else. "I mean, are you sure it's him?"

  "He was carrying photo identification," Tom said, "but we will need a formal visit from his next of kin before we can say for certain."

  Her eyes darted to him and away again, looking down at her hands nestling in her lap. "I suppose that's still me."

  Tom nodded. "How long have you been separated, if you don't mind my asking?"

  She shook her head, drawing breath before answering. "Not at all. Three years … formally … but we were apart long before that. Our marriage had become a shell of what it once was."

  "Had either of you looked to take the next steps to formalise things?" Tamara asked.

  "Divorce, you mean?" Jane replied. Tamara nodded. She shook her head. "No. Not yet. Neither of us are – were – in much of a rush to do so. We talked about it obviously, but we would both be in a worse state if we did."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Well, initially we went for mediation – trying to find an amicable settlement that would suit us both – and the upshot of that was that Gavin had to sell the house. There was no way he could raise the money to buy out my share otherwise. It would have left him with nothing. He agreed and explored it, even had the place on the market for a time, too. He wasn't perfect, Gavin, by any stretch of the imagination; deeply flawed with a warped perspective of his own importance, but he did make an effort to do right by me and the kids."

  "But he still supported you?"

  "At first, he did … but then things got a little … difficult and the payments stopped coming. Recently, he's been much better; even giving us more than he needed to. He said he was making up for his mistakes, or trying to at least."

  The door to the living room cracked open and a pair of blue eyes peered around the frame at them, a face coming into view seconds later. She was the spitting image of her mother, only with the vitality of youth to separate them. Jane held out a hand and encouraged the girl to come and sit with her. She'd been crying, it was clear. Her brother also came into view but he lingered at the threshold, reluctant to enter, despite his mother's encouragement. The daughter, Jane introduced her – Kirsten, immediately put her head onto her mother's chest, Jane putting a supportive arm around her and kissing the top of her head.

  "It'll be okay, love," she said in soothing tones. The children must have been eavesdropping from the hall. She turned her attention back to Tamara. "Things were ticking over quite nicely. Gavin was … finding his feet recently, doing more of what was expected of him."

  "How do you mean?" Tom asked.

  "Well, it's no secret that he had his demons." She met Tom's eye, forcing an artificial smile. "Gavin liked things his own way. He was the sort of person who needed to feel like he was taking charge of things. Sadly, he didn't work in a field that offered him that; having to dash here and there, trying desperately to make things happen. That took its toll on," she looked between her children, Kirsten staring into her mother's lap, unflinching, and her son Luke, still standing in the doorway, watching on impassively, "all of us, not least Gavin himself. The stress, the deadlines … he would compensate by …"

  "By?" Tom asked.

  "By getting wasted every day!" Luke said flatly. "And the rest!" His mother looked up at him, her lower lip trembling slightly. Kirsten pressed herself further against her mother and Jane responded by tightening her grip. She confirmed what Luke said with a curt nod.

  "In the end, I thought it was best for all concerned if we stepped away – me and the kids."

  "And the separation … was it amicable?" Tamara asked.

  Jane hesitated. Luke turned his gaze to the hall behind him. Tom noticed.

  "Are they ever amicable?" Jane countered. "But things settled down and we made it work for us. Didn't we?" she asked, shaking her daughter in a comforting gesture. Kirsten didn't speak but she bobbed her head briefly. Tom looked up at Luke but he wouldn't meet his eye.

  "You said Gavin was doing what was expected of him. What did you mean by that?" Tamara asked.

  "Just that," Jane said. "We came to a financial understanding quite early on and, although it took a while, Gavin did eventually hold up his end of things. Recently, he'd started to make inroads with the children as well. You know, making an effort to be a part of their lives again."

  Luke turned and left the room without a word. It was a poignant action. Kirsten lifted herself away from her mother, looking around the room. Tamara clocked what she needed and passed a box of tissues across to her that she found on the table beside her. The teenager accepted them with a grateful smile, wiping her eyes and the end of her nose. Her eyes were still red-rimmed and bloodshot. Tom hadn't noted a similar response from Luke.

  He stood up, Jane's eyes following him. "May I use your bathroom?"

  "Of course. There's one just through the kitchen."

  He made his way out into the hall, casually pulling the door to the living room to as he passed, heading along the hall to the rear. He found Luke sitting on a stool hunched over the breakfast bar with his head in his hands. Hearing Tom's approach, he lowered his hands and sat upright, turning slightly to warily watch Tom as he entered the kitchen.

  "How are you doing?" Tom asked.

  Luke briefly raised his eyebrows, before glumly nodding slowly and looking at the counter in front of him.

  "I know, stupid question," Tom said apologetically.

  "It's okay," Luke said. His voice was softer than Tom imagined it to be. He wore the angst of a teenager in the body of someone who looked older.

  "I know it's a lot to take in."

  "Doesn't matter," Luke said, staring straight ahead. "It makes no d
ifference. I haven't spoken to him in years anyway."

  Tom found that quite telling. Although not uncommon for a teenager to fall out with their father, leading to a detached relationship, complete withdrawal was something else entirely.

  "The two of you didn't see eye to eye?"

  Luke shrugged, then lifted his eyes to meet Tom's gaze. "Something like that, yeah."

  "Fathers and sons can have a tough time relating to one another," Tom said, crossing the kitchen and leaning against the wall opposite, facing Luke. The young man tracked his movements with an emotionless expression.

  "I'm pleased he's gone."

  The nature of the statement and its deadpan delivery caught Tom by surprise. He didn't respond, but watched the boy carefully, his eyes flitting back and forth around the room but focussing on nothing in particular.

  "Is that bad?" he asked, turning his head back and staring at Tom. His eyes seemed to sparkle, almost as if just saying the words aloud had lifted a significant weight from him.

  Tom raised his eyebrows, taking a breath and considering his response. "There's only one person who can judge that sentiment, and it's not me."

  Luke's expression conveyed disappointment at the answer. Was he seeking approval or reassurance for his feelings towards his father? Maybe his dismissal of the loss was merely a deflection from the need to face it or was it something else entirely? Luke ran his tongue along the outside edge of his lower lip and he looked away.

  "My dad was a bully … and no matter what was going on, what was happening, he always managed to make it about someone else." Luke wrung his hands in front of him, his gaze drifting back to Tom. "You know people like that? They make you feel like it's your fault … even when it couldn't possibly be."

  Tom inclined his head. He'd met a few like that. Fortunately, he'd never been related to any of them.

  "And he always goes his way, no matter what!"

  "Luke?" Jane Felgate said entering the kitchen, Tamara a half step behind her. Jane shot a dark look at Tom, he read her expression as a curious mix of fear and frustration. Or was it disappointment? She crossed to her son and placed a supportive hand on his back but he shrugged it off, slipping from the stool and pushing past her, making for the hall. "Luke!"