"Squash partner or something?" Tamara said, only half serious.
"I'll plump for the or something there," Tom said. "He doesn't strike me as that type."
Adams scoffed in the background. "Certainly not Gavin, no."
Felgate's boss didn't seem to want to leave them to it. Was it the voyeur in him, an instinctive journalistic desire to stay in the loop or did he think he could help? Tom thought about asking him to step away but, then again, he might be useful.
Tamara didn't seem too concerned about Adams staying with them either. "We'll have Eric cross reference his phone records, see if an 'M' turns up with any frequency. Anything else from last week?"
"Wednesday he was meeting with someone about fish—"
"Fish?"
Tom angled the diary towards her so she could see it herself, placing the point of his finger underneath the entry. "Fish – one o'clock."
"Could he be any more cryptic, do you think?"
Tom briefly raised his eyebrows, turning the page back to show the week before. "A week ago, Wednesday he met with 'Lang'." Tom looked at Charles Adams. "Do you know who that might be?"
Adams frowned, thinking hard. Then he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I've no idea who that would be. But I think the fish appointment you're referring to was probably with David Fysh, the managing director of Fysh Catering; the story I told you about, the one Gavin asked to write."
"I see, thanks."
"That was a surprise when Gavin brought that one to me, I must say."
"It was his idea then?" Tom asked.
Adams nodded. "Yes, it's a great angle, don't get me wrong, but it was not Gavin's sort of thing really." Tom encouraged him to explain further. Adams rocked his head gently from side to side. "Gavin often suggested writing articles a little edgier than I generally cared to commission; criminal cases and the like but as I said, it's not really what we do here. Some of our sister publications carry current affairs, news and so on but, to be honest with you, we are a commercial enterprise, acting as a conduit for advertising revenues and we have spent a great deal of time cultivating a client list of popular, well-paying brands. They want to be associated with … positive articles and not the dirt and the grime, if you know what I mean.”
"And Gavin Felgate wanted to dip his toe into that murky world?"
"Again … yes, very much so. That's why I was surprised that he wanted to work on this piece, far too upbeat for him," Adams chuckled, although his humour dissipated quickly. "I'm sorry, it's still hard to believe that … well, you know.”
Tom assessed Charles Adams. He thought the man seemed genuine enough but he had to wonder if he, like Gavin Felgate, had that talent he spoke of to project an image to those people he was talking to, presenting himself in a positive light. He was keen to find out who Gavin had been spending his time with recently, hoping to find some answers.
Chapter Seven
Saffy threw her arms around her grandmother, standing on tiptoes in an effort to make things easier. It didn't. There was an awkward hug but the look on Margaret's face showed how much she loved it.
"Bye, Grandma, thanks for dinner!" Saffy said, releasing her grip, scooping up her school backpack, turning tail and running for the car. Tom unlocked it just as she reached the rear passenger door and pulled the handle.
"Do you want to sit up front with me?" Tom called. She looked back, nodded and threw her bag across the rear seats before hefting her booster seat, no mean feat in itself and unceremoniously depositing it through the gap and onto the passenger seat. She then followed herself, clambering between the two front seats and Tom pictured the trail of destruction carried from the soles of her shoes over his upholstery.
"Oh dear," Margaret said with a smile. "She says she was supposed to take wellington boots into school today for their walk around the woods but her mum forgot."
Tom nodded. "Yes, well, it's all still quite a new routine – for all of us. Thanks for picking her up—"
"Tom," she said as he was turning away, "how is she now, Sapphire, I mean?"
He looked at the little girl in the car, she'd already fastened her seatbelt and was watching him with the same impatient expression he often saw in her mother. He smiled at Margaret. "She's doing well. The school has helped, I think."
Margaret nodded along to his words but he sensed she had something she wanted to say.
"It might be nice if she wasn't pushed from pillar to post as often though, don't you think?"
He wasn't sure what she meant. Both he and Alice worked shifts, and sometimes it was hard with their crossovers, but he didn't think they put too much upon family to help out. At least, he thought it was an equitable arrangement and he'd never picked up on any indication that the arrangements were inconvenient. Alice hadn't said anything either. Saffy reached over and gave a short burst on the car horn, although it took her several attempts because she didn't have enough strength in her arms to make it sound. He looked at her and she mouthed the words let's go in an overly dramatic manner.
"It looks like I'm delaying her schedule," Tom said. Margaret offered him an artificial smile, clearly she wanted to continue the conversation to make sure whatever point she was making would hit home. He pretended not to notice and walked back to the car. Opening the door, he paused before getting in and looked back. "I'll have a word with Alice about it and maybe we can talk later in the week. Is that okay?"
"Yes, of course."
He got in and closed the door under Margaret's watchful eye. She had her arms folded across her waist, one hand absently toying with her necklace which hung low over her roll-neck jumper. Her expression was stern and he wondered what it was that was really on her mind.
"Can I start the car?" Saffy asked excitedly. He nodded and she unhooked her belt, leaned across him and pressed the button. The engine fired up and Saffy retreated to her seat having let out a delighted yelp.
"If you think that's exciting, you just wait until it starts raining and you get to turn on the variable-speed windscreen wipers!" he said, casting her a wide-eyed knowing look.
"You're so lame, Tom."
He laughed, putting the car in reverse. "Thanks very much. Give your gran a wave." They both waved as he reversed out of the drive, Saffy very enthusiastically with both hands. He was pleased to see Margaret smiling broadly and returning the gesture. Maybe whatever she was getting at wasn't too serious and he'd misread it.
"What can I have to eat when we get home?"
Tom glanced at the clock on the dash, it was nearly seven o'clock. "Didn't your gran feed you?"
"Yes, but that was dinner and I'm talking about snack."
"Ah, I see. Snack. Got you."
"Then we need to have a conversation about final snack before bed."
"Have a conversation," he said, grinning. "Are you the parent now?"
Saffy seemed pleased with herself finding a new position in the reversal of roles. "But we need to talk about it before Mum gets home."
He knew what she was getting at. He was the soft touch, and he knew it.
"I'll make a deal with you," he said, keeping his eyes on the road. Saffy was all ears. "We get home, I make you a snack – fruit based," he held up a hand to stop the protest already forming, "and you eat it quickly while I run your bath. Then it's bed."
"What about final snack?" she asked, watching him intently and trying to gauge what she might be able to get away with.
"How about I combine both snacks, bath, and then bed … but with a story?"
Saffy sat in silence. He wondered what objections she might throw at him but after a minute she looked across at him and nodded. "Deal."
That was easy. His phone rang and he answered it through the Bluetooth. It was Eric.
"I'm in the car with Saffy, Eric," he said, keen to ensure Eric didn't say anything likely to give the girl nightmares.
"Okay, cool. Hey, Saffy. How's it going?"
"Brilliant! Gran gave me a Magnum for pudding. Not a mini but one of
the big ones!"
"Adult size?" Eric asked.
Saffy nodded, as if Eric could see her, grinning broadly. Tom silently cursed Margaret and her strange obsession with giving children a massive sugar hit shortly before bedtime.
"Are you still in the office?" Tom asked.
"Yep."
"First day back, Eric, you don't need to make up for the last few months in one day!"
Eric laughed. "I know, I know. Becca is coming over to pick me up, she'll be here any minute. I just wanted to run something past you. While I was waiting for forensics to get themselves sorted and send over the vict—" he seemed to catch himself, quickly sanitising his words for Saffy's sake. Although, she'd lost interest in Eric and was now adjusting the climate controls on her side of the car. "Felgate's personal effects are here and the CSI lead promised to give us a run down on their findings first thing in the morning. The body … sorry … he's been transported already and we should have preliminary findings by close of play tomorrow. I spoke to Cassie and we had a chat about the scene. I reckon it's a bit odd."
"You're not the only one, Eric," Tom said, indicating and turning across a line of cars. They were nearly home.
"Forensics told me they were able to lift fingerprints off the rope."
"How did they manage that?"
"Well, not from the rope itself, obviously, but the end was sealed from fraying with electrical tape binding the strands together. They were able to lift a full print and a couple of partials. With a bit of luck, we may have a name tomorrow."
"Good work."
"There's more. I had a thought that the … use of the rope was a bit suggestive. I mean, if it's not to actually … suspend … someone, then what's the significance?"
Tom reached home, pulling into the drive and seeing Alice's car was already here. He realised he was back later than expected. Maybe his deal with Saffy wasn't such a success after all. Saffy must have had the same thought because she frowned at Tom, silently mouthing Mum's home already. Tom pulled a frightened expression, she laughed.
"Hang on, Eric." He turned to Saffy. "You go inside and tell your mum I said you could have a snack before bath. If she starts yelling, I'll turn the car around and you run back; we'll make a break for it and go and live on the boat or something." He held up a hand and Saffy high-fived him before getting out of the car and running up to the front door. "Okay, I'm back and the coast is clear. What were you going to tell me?"
"The noose … well, the location actually. It's off our patch and well before my time, yours too, I should imagine—"
"Eric, I'd like to get something to eat and at this rate I'll be having breakfast—"
"Right, yeah. The location on Roydon Common; I think it's significant. A few years back a kid hanged himself out there. I've still got to pull up the files on it but I figured it was worth a look."
Tom sat back, rolling his tongue across the inside of his cheek. Eric was right, that was significant and too much of a coincidence to easily dismiss it. Far from making things clearer, it only seemed to add to the mystery.
"Okay. Good work, Eric. First thing tomorrow I want you to get onto the network provider and—"
"I can already tell you about his calls, if you like?"
Tom was intrigued. Eric couldn't have hacked the mobile already, surely? "Go on."
"He made three calls the day he died. One was to a number with no name saved – it's an unregistered mobile."
"A burner phone?"
"Exactly, yes. He has called the same number several times recently. One was to a local takeaway. That one was saved in his contacts list, so he must be a regular of theirs," Eric said. "Cassie was going to call in there on her way home. They'll be open now."
"Good. And the third?"
"Local taxi firm," Eric said. A noise in the background seemed to distract Eric. "Sorry, Becca's here. Do you want me to follow up with the taxi company?"
"No, no. Don't worry. You get yourself off home. I think you've made a strong start on your return. Make it a priority for first thing tomorrow."
"Will do."
"And Eric … how did you get into the phone so quickly?"
"That was easy. His pin code was his daughter's birthday."
"It's good to have you back, Eric."
Alice was waiting for him at the doorstep, arms folded across her chest. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, she greeted him with a mock-angry expression on her face.
"I'm not sure what I've done, but to be fair you're probably right," he said, leaning back, holding her at arm's length and smiling. She grinned at him.
"Two snacks before bath?"
"Hey, your mother fed her chocolate and ice cream after dinner … again."
Alice rolled her eyes. "I thought Saffy was a little hyper this evening." She stepped back and he followed her into the house. She closed the door as he took his coat off.
"Oh, and while I think about it, you'd better change your pin code on your debit card."
Her brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Trust me," he said. "Changing the subject; what's up with your mum? She was really odd with me this evening."
"Really, are you sure? How so?"
He shrugged. "I don't know … just, odd."
"Well, she is odd, isn't she? Probably just Mum being Mum."
"She was talking about us working shifts and disrupting Saffy's life or something."
"I shouldn't worry," Alice said, thinking about it. "What did you say?"
Tom rested a hand on the newel post at the foot of the stairs, his lips pursed. "I did what any self-respecting guy would do in that situation."
"You ducked out of the tough conversation and left as quickly as possible?"
He turned the corners of his mouth down and raised both eyebrows. "You know me well."
She laughed. "Right, do you want to heat through leftovers for us or run Saffy's bath?"
Chapter Eight
Eric was the first into the ops room the next morning, Tom finding him reading through an old case file as he entered. Crossing the room, he took a look at the white boards and reviewed the information Eric gleaned from Felgate's personal effects that came up late the previous afternoon. What he and Tamara learned from their trip to Norwich the previous day would need adding. Cassie arrived with Tamara a half step behind, Tamara heading straight for the coffee machine. He went to join her. She looked tired, as if she hadn't slept well. He lowered his voice so the others couldn't hear them.
"Everything all right?"
"It will be when I've got one of these inside me," she said, tilting her head towards the machine as she finished loading a capsule, dropped the lid and pressed start. She stared at the machine, watching it kick into life. "How about you?"
"Eric may have turned up a link to an old case."
"Good," Tamara said, sweeping the hair away from her eyes before picking up her coffee.
"You sure you're okay?"
"Fine," she said, striding over to Eric's desk. He turned when she drew near, smiling a greeting. "What have you found, Eric?"
"A teenage suicide that took place on Roydon Common years back," Eric said, laying out several black-and-white crime scene photographs from both cases next to one another. He angled his head towards his right shoulder and squinted at the pictures as if that made a difference. "The trees would have been much smaller back then but—"
"Same place," Cassie said, craning her neck to see from her own chair. Tamara looked at her for further reassurance. "Definitely."
"Agreed," Tom said, coming over with a cup of coffee in his hand.
"Can't be a coincidence," Tamara said.
Tom agreed. "What do we have that links the two cases, though." He placed a hand on Eric's shoulder and pointed at the folder alongside him on the desk with his forefinger, still holding his steaming coffee cup in that hand. "Anything at all?"
Eric frowned, shaking his head. "Not that I can see. The lad who hanged himself was a fifteen-year-old by the name
of Ciaran Haverson. I don't see any link to Felgate at all. They lived in different towns, different ages. Felgate's own children are years younger so they wouldn't have crossed paths at school. However, there is one similarity that is a little scary; Felgate died two days after the anniversary of the suicide."
Tom thought about it, his eyebrows knitting. "Okay, let's look at it from another angle. Assume for now Felgate had no connection with the suicide but he was a journalist. Perhaps he was looking into the suicide, or the events leading up to it?"
"To what end?" Tamara asked.
Tom shrugged. "What do we know about the suicide, Eric?"
Eric picked up the case notes, scanning them to refresh his memory of the details. "He was found early one morning by a local taking his dog for a walk – so that's the same – he was found naked. His clothes were recovered, following a fingertip search of the area, a quarter of a mile away dumped under some bushes."
"Any sign of foul play?" Tamara asked.
Eric shook his head. "He had some abrasions on the knuckles of his right hand but aside from that, no injuries other than those consistent with death by hanging."
"And Haverson himself; what was said about him at the time?"
"Um … troubled teenager, suffered from depression. He struggled at school … parents had a fractious relationship, so his home environment wasn't positive … found social situations awkward." Eric glanced up at Tamara, "Sounds like the average adolescent to me."
Cassie caught Eric's eye. "You're about five minutes older than that kid was, so you'd know." Eric smiled. The two of them were always keen to mock each other and clearly, since Eric's forced absence from the team, they'd missed one another.
"How did the coroner rule?" Tom asked. Eric snapped back to attention, scanning through the file with his index and forefinger.
"Here it is – the coroner ruled an open verdict," Eric said, surprised. "It's clear to me, from what's written here anyway, that the investigating officers thought it a suicide. Strange. I wonder how he came to that conclusion."
"Presumably an autopsy was performed?" Tom asked.
A Dark Sin: Hidden Norfolk - Book 8 Page 6