A Dark Sin: Hidden Norfolk - Book 8

by Dalgliesh, J M

  Tamara heard something in her tone. It was different, a genuine vulnerability where she feared the answer. "No," she said softly. "Of course, it's not a problem," Francesca visibly relaxed "but… what about Dad. He'll be missing you terribly and you know how poorly he copes without you."

  "We've separated."

  Tamara stopped, stunned. For a second, she thought she'd misheard, shaking her head. "Y–You've… what?"

  "I–I've left your father," Francesca whispered pensively, turning towards her and chewing her lower lip, nervously looking back at the others gathering themselves together nearby. Thankfully, they seemed oblivious to the conversation. Tamara was lost for words. All of a sudden, she felt numb, awkwardly looking at her mother, open mouthed.

  "I–I…"

  "We'll talk later," Francesca said, reaching out and patting the back of Tamara's hand. She turned and hurried out of ops, disappearing from view. Tom came alongside, Saffy holding his giant hand in her tiny one.

  "I have Saffy, so I'm heading home," he said. She glanced at him, lost in thought. "I'm heading off," he repeated.

  "Yes, of course. We'll pick this up in the morning. Maybe Eric could go out and about and try to track down Jimmy Haverson?"

  Tom grimaced, glancing towards Eric, currently fussing around Becca.

  "Problem?" she asked.

  He shrugged. "No, I just wanted to keep Eric in the office for a—"

  "I understand, Tom, really I do, but you can't keep him locked indoors forever. You've got to let him back out sooner or later."

  He nodded glumly. "I know." Saffy let go of Tom's hand and threw her arms around Tamara's waist, looking up and smiling at her. Tamara returned it, ruffling her curls, then released her and Saffy skipped away to the door. Tom followed. "I'll see you in the morning."

  Eric and Becca made to follow, Eric pausing as he slipped his coat on and eyed his partner. "Are you okay?" he asked. Becca seemed lost in thought.

  "Yes, yes, I'm fine. It's just someone at work – a colleague." She shook her head.

  "What?" Eric asked.

  "She was upset, very upset but she didn't want to talk about it. I felt for her. I feel like I should have helped more."

  "How?"

  "Oh, I don’t know. Forget it."

  They said their goodbyes and departed leaving only Cassie with Tamara in ops. She went to join her. Cassie smiled. "Where should we start?"

  Tamara thought about it. "There's so much I want us to unpick in Felgate's life; for example, who he had the recurring meeting with that was recorded in his diary along with this mystery woman who has been visiting."

  "Yes, of course. Obviously … all of that …" Cassie was smiling and weaving a circular motion in the air with one hand "… but I was thinking of Eric not realising that his mum is no longer the primary woman in his life." Tamara smiled as well, shaking her head. "And not to mention how Mrs Greave senior—"

  "Don't even go there, Cass, I beg of you." Tamara waved a pointed finger at her DS.

  Cassie shrugged, the smile widening playfully. "Christmas at the Greaves' sounds fun to me…" she ran her tongue along her bottom lip, watching Tamara whose smile also broadened as she looked at the floor. "But, yes," Cassie bobbed her head, "Felgate … much more pressing."

  The telephone on Cassie's desk rang and she answered. Tamara turned her attention to the information boards. There was every possibility that Felgate's life would open up to them once they were into his laptop, but so far, he hadn't left much of a trail as to whom he mixed with.

  "Right, thanks," Cassie said, replacing the receiver. "Fancy a trip over to Heacham? Gavin Felgate's house has been broken into."

  Chapter Sixteen

  They were met by a uniformed constable on Gavin Felgate's driveway, getting out of his patrol car when they pulled up alongside.

  "Evening Ma'am," he said, nodding to Cassie. "They got in through the patio doors at the rear. The chap next door heard them leaving and they scrambled over the perimeter wall."

  He led them around the side of the house, the path illuminated by a handheld torch. Reaching over the gate, he slid the bolt across and pushed it open. The path ran between Felgate's house and that of the neighbour, Terry Sherman, who Cassie met the previous day. Coming into the rear garden, the access point was clear to see. The access into the house from the patio came via a set of sliding doors. They were not particularly new, unpainted silver aluminium-framed but evidently fitted decades previously. Contemporary frames looked vastly different. Someone had taken a wrecking bar and wedged it beneath the door, levering it up and away from the runner it nestled into. It was an old burglary trick that most homeowners weren't aware of. The weight of the door neutralised the lock by snapping the mechanism, allowing the door to be set aside. It could be done in a matter of seconds without any of the associated noise that breaking such a large pane of double-glazed, toughened glass would generate.

  "Have you been inside?" Tamara asked.

  "Yes, but they're long gone. The neighbour who called it in," he pointed towards Sherman's house, "says he saw a man going over the side wall, there." Tamara looked across the garden, following the beam of the torch. The boundary wall was a little over five foot high, climbing ivy ran along the length of it. From memory, she realised Felgate's house backed onto a lane cutting, allowing pedestrians through to the next road. "The internal lights are out for some reason. Must have tripped or something."

  "Okay, thanks. Can you call forensics and ask for someone to come down here? I want prints taken from the tool and the door. Maybe whomever it was got careless. Can we borrow your torch?"

  The constable passed her the torch and she entered with Cassie, taking care to keep to one side and hopefully not disturb any evidence that might be left for them to find.

  "What do you reckon, opportunistic burglary or something else?" Cassie asked Tamara as they cast their eyes around the room. The dining room area was largely unchanged from when Cassie and Tom were last there; the room looking much as it did in the photographs the technicians took when they processed the house. The paperwork on the table was sitting in an archive box on Eric's desk along with Felgate's laptop.

  "One thing," Tamara said, stepping into the kitchen and opening several cupboards, casually inspecting the layout and not finding what she was expecting. "His wife – Jane – said he was a massive drinker, didn't she?"

  "I think so, yes. So?"

  "His boss at the paper said so too."

  Cassie shrugged. "What of it?"

  "I don't see any booze around here; not in the dining room there, or here in the kitchen."

  Cassie looked around, walking into the living room area and finding the sideboard – doors open – with the contents strewn across the floor. She found some pint and wine glasses but no alcohol. "Yes, that is odd. And Dr Death didn't register any alcohol in his blood in the autopsy either, come to think of it."

  "So why did he have to order a taxi when his car was parked on the drive?"

  Cassie's brow furrowed. "Good point. I missed that."

  Tamara pointed towards the hallway leading to the front of the house. "Home office that way?" Cassie nodded and they went through. The office overlooked the driveway, accessed by a door adjacent to the front door of the house. It was open and Tamara stood at the threshold, peering in. "Someone's had a right go in here."

  The office was a mess. Every drawer of the desk had been pulled out and turned over, the contents lay all over the floor. The search hadn't been methodical by the look of it. The cupboard and filing cabinet on the far side of the room had been given the same treatment, as if the contents had been hastily thrown to the floor. It was more reminiscent of a demolition rather than a search.

  "Standard burglary fare, if you ask me.” Cassie said.

  Tamara angled her head to one side. Cassie was right, it was certainly how a burglar would leave a property. A seasoned thief could be in and out of a property within six minutes, leaving a trail of devastation
in his wake and with everything of value missing. She turned, shining the light up the stairs. "Do me a favour, go and see what's been done upstairs. Has the bed been stripped?"

  "On it," Cassie said, setting off. Burglars often arrived empty handed, aside from the tools they use to gain access, and use whatever comes to hand to cart away their finds. This could be bags left by the homeowners or, what was often the case, bedsheets or duvets. Speed was everything in a burglary which was why houses are usually turned upside down. The perpetrator doesn't have the time for a meticulous search, fearful of discovery and locating what they can easily sell, gathering it all in one place – in a bed sheet or a duvet – allows them to flee in quick time.

  Cassie returned a few moments later, shaking her head. "I don't think they made it upstairs. Everything looks like it did before. Maybe they were disturbed."

  "Neighbour saw him going over the wall; not in here."

  Cassie pursed her lips. "Went straight for the office, then?" She looked back towards the living room. "Couldn't find what he wanted and turned out the sideboard en route."

  "That's my thinking. Aside from some tech, home offices aren't usually where you keep your valuables in my experience. Watches, jewellery … even wallets are usually found elsewhere."

  "So, what were they looking for?"

  "That's what I want to know, Cass. We'd better have a word with that neighbour. You can lead."

  They made their way back out to the garden intending to walk around to the front of the house but the head of a figure in the next-door garden caught their attention, just visible above the fence line.

  "Is that you, Mr Sherman."

  He appeared, peering over the fence. Cassie could tell from the movement of his face around the eyes that he was smiling.

  "We'd like a word, if possible."

  "One second," he said, disappearing from view. Moments later, a latch clicked and the fence two metres along from where they stood swung away with a scrunch and rustle as the vegetation was pulled from the fencing. A clematis plant had grown across the opening, but the leaves were gone, leaving only a tangle of branches hanging over it. In summer, the gate wouldn't be visible at all. Sherman appeared, the white of his teeth reflected in Tamara's torchlight. She raised the beam to his face and he shielded his eyes with one hand.

  "You have a gate into someone else's back garden?" Tamara asked.

  "Yes, yes, I do," Sherman said, waving his hand frantically until she angled the beam away from his face. "It's an old right of way."

  "Not one that it seems to get a lot of use very often, by the look of it," Cassie said.

  "No, that's true," Sherman said, looking back at the gate. "I suppose not."

  "What did you see earlier this evening?"

  "Um … see? Nothing. I heard noises and automatically assumed it was your colleagues. But I couldn't see a police car outside and when I looked over the fence, it didn't look like anything you would do. I called out."

  "Did anyone answer?"

  "No, so I waited and then he came out. When I challenged him," Sherman puffed out his chest, tilting his head, "he took off and vaulted the wall." He pointed to where the burglar clambered over, seemingly using the garden furniture as a makeshift ladder.

  "Did he have anything with him?"

  Sherman thought about it, frowning. "Not that I could see, but it was dark." He sounded apologetic and defensive in equal measure.

  "Can you tell us what he looked like?" Cassie asked.

  "I only saw his face for a second … and then he took off, as I say. And it was—"

  "Dark. Yeah, you said that. Can you tell us anything at all?" Cassie asked.

  "Tall. Big fella. Taller than that inspector you were with before."

  "Six three?" Tamara asked, surprised. She had barely met anyone as tall as Tom in her life, let alone since she came to Norfolk.

  "Well, maybe not that tall, but he was taller than me."

  Cassie looked Sherman up and down. "What are you, five nine?"

  "Five seven … and a half," Sherman said, raising his eyebrows.

  "Makes all the difference," Cassie said. "What about his clothing?"

  "Dark. Jeans and a hooded top."

  "That's … really helpful, Mr Sherman." Cassie glanced at Tamara. The man appeared to swell with pride. "Thank you."

  "I think he had a car waiting for him as well."

  "You do?" Tamara asked. "What makes you think that?"

  "A few seconds after he vaulted the fence, I heard an engine revving, and then a car roaring away. At least, I think it was a car … but could have been a van, I suppose. Either way, definitely a diesel. You can tell the difference."

  "You said waiting for him. Do you think he wasn't alone?"

  "Oh … I don't know, thinking about it. Maybe," he hesitated, "I don't know. Sorry."

  "That's okay, Mr Sherman," Tamara said. "You've been very helpful. I'll have one of my officers stop by and take a full statement from you in a little while."

  Sherman nodded, smiling and then trying to look serious. Tamara politely returned the smile. The man stood there looking between the two detectives.

  "You can go home now, Mr Sherman," Cassie said.

  "Yes, right. Will do."

  Sherman returned to his gate and left, struggling to close it again, having disturbed the clematis. He persevered and eventually managed to drop the latch into place.

  "Keen, isn't he?" Tamara whispered, believing him to still be outside and probably listening. Cassie agreed. This might be the most exciting moment of the man's year. She motioned for them to head around to the front of the house. Once crime scene techs arrived, Tamara instructed the constable to take down a statement. The two of them got into their car. She looked at Cassie.

  "I'm not buying a random burglary."

  Cassie shook her head. "Me neither. He – or they – were after something specific. If they thought it might be in the office then I reckon it's safe to assume it could be on his laptop."

  "We need to get into that. What did Eric say?"

  "He has an IT tech coming up tomorrow. But – and feel free to shoot me down – I know someone who could probably help us a bit quicker." She mock grimaced. "It's a guy I … worked with before … sort of."

  "I don't want to know," Tamara said. Then she thought better of it. "Actually, I do want to know."

  "I nicked him.”

  "Cassie—"

  She held her hands up in supplication. "He's legit now, I swear. He got a job with an IT firm after," she grimaced again, "he got out." Tamara rolled her eyes. This was getting worse. "No, he's a good guy now. That's what happens, you know? People who are good at hacking are actively headhunted. Some are offered jobs to help with getting parole. Who better to set up security than those who are most adept at bypassing it, right?"

  "Fine," Tamara said, holding a hand up. "Don't tell me any more." She rubbed at her eyes, suddenly feeling tiredness catching up on her. She could do with getting an early night but somehow, going home, she thought would only increase her stress levels.

  Chapter Seventeen

  DS Cassie Knight yawned, stretching out both arms above her head. Her eyes were strained, feeling enlarged and painful. Shutting her eyes tightly, the relief from the glare of the screen felt pleasant. Reaching for her coffee, she checked the clock as she raised the cup to her mouth. Six-thirty in the morning. The others would be arriving soon and she'd promised she'd get this done. If not, it wouldn't be the end of the world but her pride would be dented.

  "Connor," she said, turning the microphone of her headset back to her mouth, "how much longer is this going to take."

  "Not long."

  The soft voice, audible now with an American east coast twang, remained calm and unflustered.

  "You said that an hour ago."

  "And the hour before that, too," he said.

  No matter how long she watched, it was still an odd sight to see the cursor moving across the screen in front of h
er, seemingly with a mind of its own. Connor Harris was as gifted with computers as anyone she'd ever met. Such a talent, developed and fuelled by his own ambition to do what others couldn't, put him on a collision course with company firewalls and ultimately, the police. Much of his illegal activities were focussed on breaking into systems ahead of his peers, if only to be the first rather than with any malicious intent. What got him into trouble was using credit cards to make purchases, selling them on through online auction sites and making a tidy living. Unfortunately for Connor, the cards weren't his and he'd obtained them through the hacking of company records of multiple businesses. And this was how Cassie came to know him.

  For the last four years, Connor had been working in cyber intelligence, at corporate level, achieving special dispensation from US authorities to obtain a work visa. As she understood it, this was virtually impossible with a criminal record. Connor had a way of getting where he needed to be. Getting into Felgate's laptop hadn't been an issue. He'd achieved that in a matter of minutes but it was the encrypted files that proved troublesome. There was little else of any interest to their investigation, but these files must be significant and it was this that Connor had been attempting to gain access to for the last six hours.

  "There, we're in."

  Cassie opened her eyes, fearful she'd dropped off to sleep again just as she had done earlier. She looked at the screen.

  "That's it?"

  "All yours," Connor said. "I told you it wouldn't take long. I'll hand control back to you."

  "Thanks, Connor. Stay out of trouble, yeah?"

  "Always."

  The line went dead and Cassie suddenly felt alone for the first time that night. Gently slapping her cheeks to wake herself up, she sat forward and opened the first of the folders she had until now been unable to access. Inside were multiple MP4 files and she randomly double clicked on one. The media player opened and she was pleased to see it was a video file but there was no audio. The recording was made at night, in the early hours and six months previously, according to the date stamp in the corner of the screen. The area was dimly lit with the only light creeping beneath the metal shutters of a nondescript building. It looked like a light industrial area but she had no idea where it might be. A white lorry came into the shot; a six or seven tonne one and possibly refrigerated.