Hell to Pay

by Rachel Amphlett

  Two were from the DS she’d passed on her existing caseload to, and by the time she’d phoned him back and they’d chatted about two of the burglary cases he was managing on her behalf, it was mid-morning.

  A loud voice from the corridor preceded Barnes entering the incident room, closely followed by Gavin whose face was grey.

  Kay bit her lip. The young detective constable had been handpicked by Sharp to attend the post mortem of the three victims discovered at the smallholding with Barnes, and it had clearly taken its toll.

  ‘What’s Lucas’s preliminary findings?’ she said as Barnes dropped into the seat at his desk.

  ‘Asphyxiation of two of them, and a broken neck for the third, as we suspected,’ he said, his voice weary.

  Kay pushed away her paperwork and leaned back with a sigh.

  ‘He also reckons they were beaten before being killed,’ said Barnes. ‘The oldest victim – the one that’s been there the longest I mean – had a broken shin bone and wrist. The other two had broken fingers. There’s evidence of them being raped multiple times, too.’

  Kay ran a hand through her hair, and tried not to picture the women’s last moments.

  ‘Jesus, Barnes.’

  ‘Yeah. I know.’

  Her eyes flickered across the room to where Gavin sat, his chin in his hand as he scrolled through emails.

  ‘He’s taken it badly.’

  ‘He has an older sister the same age as the latest victim.’

  Kay nodded. ‘Any luck tracing their identities?’

  Barnes shook his head. ‘No. I’ve got a horrible feeling we’re not going to find any, either.’ He sighed, and leaned forward. ‘Anyway, what’s been happening here this morning? What juicy gossip have I missed?’

  Carys and Gavin wandered over, coffee mugs in hand, their faces inquisitive at Barnes’s question.

  ‘What was that all about, earlier?’ Carys said, jerking her head towards the closed door of Sharp’s office.

  Kay lowered her voice and told them about the journalist that had left his card at her house the previous night, and Harrison’s assertions that he’d get the media department to inform the reporter that turning up at detectives’ homes wouldn’t be tolerated.

  ‘It’s all Harrison’s fault. I never wanted to be on the news,’ she grumbled.

  ‘Not so long ago, you’d have killed for an opportunity like this,’ said Barnes.

  ‘Not so long ago, I was happily working under the radar,’ she fumed.

  Barnes fanned his face theatrically. ‘Oh, I’m a celebrity! I can’t handle the pressure!’

  Kay crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him while Carys and Gavin dissolved into laughter.

  ‘Sometimes, Ian Barnes, you’re a right pain in the—’

  ‘Looks like everyone’s having fun here. What’s going on?’

  Kay swivelled her chair round to see O’Reilly strolling towards them rubbing his hands together, a broad grin across his face.

  She smiled. ‘Oh, nothing. Too hard to explain.’

  ‘Well, it’s good to know you can all keep your sense of humour in the circumstances. That’s the way,’ he added, slapping Gavin on the back as he moved towards his own desk.

  Gavin glared at him until Carys gave him a nudge.

  ‘Be nice,’ she hissed.

  ‘I don’t need to be,’ he said. ‘You’re being nice enough for all of us.’

  He turned on his heel and stormed towards the whiteboard where he stood, glaring at it while he finished the rest of his coffee.

  Crestfallen, Carys turned to Kay, but she shook her head.

  ‘You’re on your own with that one.’

  ‘Hey, look at this.’

  Kay turned to see Debbie approaching, her notebook in her hand.

  ‘What’ve you got?’

  ‘A bloke phoned the hotline. Says he saw the press conference and reckons he saw something on the beach below his house two nights ago.’

  ‘Got a name?’

  ‘Adrian Webster. Lives in a village called Amesworth – it’s about six miles from Dymchurch.’

  ‘They’ve had issues with illegal entrants landing at Dymchurch before, Sarge,’ said Gavin. ‘Could be worth a look.’

  ‘I reckon,’ said Kay. ‘Got a phone number for him?’

  ‘Yes. And an address,’ said Debbie.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  Kay glanced over her shoulder at the interruption to see Harrison striding towards her, Sharp in his wake.

  ‘Might have a lead.’ She indicated to Debbie to update the two senior officers.

  ‘That’s a great start,’ said Harrison. ‘Right, I want you all down there now. Interview as many of the locals as you can, starting with those who have houses nearest the beach.’

  ‘What about local uniform?’

  ‘I’m sure we can rustle a few of them up to help with door-to-door enquiries.’

  Kay glanced out the window at the grey skies and clouds being buffeted along by a chill wind, and groaned inwardly before turning back to the DCI.

  Harrison was smiling.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ he said. ‘The press conference worked.’

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Kay shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets, grateful she’d remembered to put the thick wool garment on the back seat of the car before leaving the police station.

  Beside her, Carys bundled a scarf around her neck, squinting against the bitter wind that whipped off the sea and around the exposed car park.

  ‘I’m beginning to wish I’d brought one of those.’

  ‘My dad always told me to wear a scarf and cover my wrists and ankles,’ said Carys. ‘It works. I haven’t had a cold in years.’

  Kay narrowed her eyes and peered across the car park as another vehicle slowed and turned onto the gravel, its chassis creaking as it bumped and swayed over the potholed surface.

  Barnes climbed from the passenger seat as the car drew to a stop next to hers.

  ‘I swear blind the suspension’s gone on half the bloody pool vehicles,’ he grumbled, before being buffeted by a gust of wind. ‘Flipping heck. Not exactly the Costa del Sol, is it?’

  ‘I’m sure it’s pleasant in the summer,’ said Kay.

  The older detective didn’t look convinced.

  ‘I can’t imagine how desperate someone must be to try and cross that,’ said Gavin as he joined them, pocketing the car keys.

  They turned towards the water, the dark grey waves tumbling and boiling across the surface.

  ‘Fancy a surf, Gav?’ said Carys.

  ‘No thanks – I’d have hypothermia in seconds.’

  Kay flipped up the collar of her coat. ‘Right, let’s get on with it. Uniform have three patrols starting at the opposite end of the village, so with any luck we’ll get this done by mid-afternoon and make it back in time for the briefing. We’ll split up into pairs so, Carys – you’re with me. We’ll take one side of the street each.’

  The others murmured their agreement.

  ‘Last one to the café at the end buys the hot drinks,’ said Barnes.

  ‘Deal.’

  ‘Which house do you want to start with?’ said Carys as Barnes and Gavin walked away.

  Kay pointed to a small weather-beaten cottage nearest to the car park. ‘That’s the house we’ve got the address for Adrian Webster, so we’ll start with him. From there, we’ll work our way back.’

  They trudged across the mud-specked gravel to the cottage, and Kay noticed a wisp of smoke escape the brick chimney before being whisked away on the wind. As they drew closer, the building didn’t appear as dilapidated as she’d first thought, and instead its walls were covered with a naked wisteria, its leaves shrivelled while it waited for spring to appear.

  The door opened as Carys pushed through the low gate set into the wall, and an elderly man peered out, a china mug in his hand.

  ‘You’re Detective Hunter, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ said
Kay, her brow furrowing.

  ‘I recognise you from the telly,’ he said, beaming. ‘Adrian Webster.’

  Kay fought down the urge to roll her eyes, took the outstretched hand, and introduced Carys.

  ‘Lovely to meet you. Kettle’s boiled. Come on in.’

  They stamped their feet on the doormat to loosen the detritus that clung to their soles before he pointed to his right with his mug.

  ‘Go on through. I’ll bring a tray in.’

  Kay led the way into a living room that showed its age, despite Webster’s attempts at decoration.

  ‘You live on your own?’ said Carys when he returned with their drinks.

  ‘Yes, my wife died three years ago.’ He shrugged. ‘Cancer. It was a blessing in the end, to be honest.’

  ‘When you phoned our colleagues earlier, you mentioned you might have some information that could help us?’ said Kay.

  Webster laid his mug on a coaster on the table in front of them before easing back into his chair and placing his hands in his lap. ‘Yes. I don’t know if it’s much, but I thought I’d better say something, you know? Especially as you went to so much effort with the press conference and everything. You look just like you do on telly, by the way.’

  Kay nodded and took a sip of her tea, figuring he’d take the hint and keep talking.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘since Sarah died I don’t sleep that well anymore. I find myself lying there thinking about things too much, so about a year ago I got into the habit of getting up, putting on the electric fire down here and making a hot drink. I like to sit at the window and watch the sea. It’s calming.’

  He shrugged, as if to clear a memory that cut too deep. ‘Anyway, there’ve been a couple of things lately that had me wondering. Lights on the water that seem to be heading this way, but then cut out before they get too close sometimes. I go for a walk during the night occasionally, to blow the cobwebs away. Always have, even when Sarah was alive, but about a week or so ago I was about to go back upstairs when the clouds parted, and I thought I saw a dinghy or something pull up to the shoreline.’

  ‘Did you see anyone in it?’

  ‘I saw someone run down to the boat – goodness knows where they’d been hiding, because you’ve seen the landscape here. Flat as a pancake. But I can’t be sure I saw anyone get out of the boat – the moon disappeared behind clouds again, and I couldn’t see anything else. I got a bit nosy, and it wasn’t too cold back then, so I nipped out the front door to see if I could spot anyone else.’

  ‘That could’ve been incredibly dangerous, Mr Webster,’ said Kay.

  He gave her a rueful smile. ‘I only thought about that afterwards,’ he said. ‘I was too interested in what was happening. Anyway, I was too late to see whatever it is that was going on, because by the time I got to the gate I could hear the engine revving as the boat left the beach.’

  ‘Why didn’t you report it at the time?’

  He shrugged. ‘I have, in the past, but nothing ever happens. I gave up. You’re the first ones to have taken me seriously.’

  ‘Could you see anyone on the beach after the boat left?’

  Webster shook his head. ‘The place was deserted.’

  ‘What about the next day? Was there anything lying around – any items that looked out of place?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s like they were never there.’

  Chapter Forty-Three

  After thanking Adrian Webster for his time and reluctantly leaving the warmth of his house, Kay followed Carys through the gate and out onto the coast road, then glanced over her shoulder as they began to walk away.

  The net curtain at the living room window twitched, a silhouette moving beyond her line of sight before disappearing.

  She pursed her lips.

  ‘What’re you thinking, Sarge?’

  Kay gritted her teeth as a bitter wind caught her hair and assaulted her face and ears before she tugged up her jacket collar and burrowed her chin into the thick material. ‘Well, we’ll obviously have to see if the incident he mentioned ties in with anyone else’s statement, but we’ll run it past Sharp at the briefing later on. I can’t believe he didn’t report it at the time, though.’

  ‘Well, like he said – he and other locals have reported it before, but it keeps happening.’ Carys sighed. ‘I don’t envy Colin Fox and his lot. It must be so frustrating for them.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose. Do me a favour when we get back to the station, though. Go through HOLMES2 and find out if he really did report anything prior to this, or whether he’s wasting our time.’

  ‘Think your celebrity status went to his head?’

  Kay narrowed her eyes as dimples appeared in Carys’s cheeks.

  ‘Very funny.’

  Kay lifted her gaze to the road beyond, now a rough track that had narrowed to a single car width. Squinting against the wind, she spotted Barnes and Piper leaving a property at the far end.

  Beyond them, in the distance, an imposing brick monolith rose from the flat landscape; a Victorian water tower that had been battered by the elements over the centuries and now stood sentient over the small hamlet that surrounded it.

  Barnes lifted his hand before both men turned and disappeared from sight.

  Kay ran her tongue over her lips, the tang of salt reminding her of childhood holidays on the Devon coastline. She glanced to her left as they made their way towards the next house, a scrubby patch of grass dividing the coast road and the beach beyond.

  Somehow, the Kentish coastline had always seemed more desolate to her; alien. The flat marshes to the east of the county had never endeared themselves to her when she’d ventured there on walks with Adam when she’d first arrived in the area. Instead, the landscape set her nerves on edge as she’d peered through mist at abandoned fishing boats, whilst the southern fringes of the county left her with a feeling of melancholy every time she visited, even in the summer.

  She blinked to clear the thought as the boundary to the next cottage began, and noticed that unlike the previous property they’d visited, the garden to the rear connected with the beach beyond.

  The front of the house was framed with a low wall matching the style of that bordering the rest of the street, with a white iron gate leading to a front door.

  She sniffed, the strong aroma of a cigarette wafting on the breeze as Carys rang the bell.

  No sound came from inside the house, and Carys knocked twice before dropping her hand and turning to Kay.

  ‘What do you think, Sarge?’

  ‘Round the back.’

  She led the way along the worn gravel path past the front window of the house and around the side of the building, her eyes taking in the ivy that clung to the walls and up alongside a single window near the pitched roof.

  As she reached the back of the house, the wind whipped up a dust devil, blowing sand into her eyes.

  ‘Shit,’ she muttered, lowering her head and blinking to clear the grit.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She reached into her bag and tugged a paper handkerchief from a packet before blowing her nose and blinking once more.

  Carys shielded her eyes with her hand and then pointed at a wooden hulled boat that hugged the tufts of grass poking through the sand. ‘Over there.’

  They moved closer, and Kay noticed a puff of smoke appear towards the bow before a head popped up above the level of the hull at the sound of their footsteps.

  A man in his late sixties with a woollen beanie hat pulled low over his ears peered at them, a look of confusion across his face.

  ‘What do you want?’

  Kay held up her warrant card. ‘DS Kay Hunter and DC Carys Miles of Kent Police. We were wondering if you could help us with some enquiries we’re making in the area?’

  He removed the cigarette from his mouth, blew smoke to one side, then narrowed his eyes before dropping a hammer into the boat.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘We understand fro
m some of your neighbours that there’s been some suspicious activity along the coastline here. We’re trying to ascertain if the beach here is being used to land illegal entrants.’

  Kay moved around the vessel to join him.

  ‘You been talking to that Webster up the road? He’s always saying he sees things. Can’t always take his word for granted.’ He snorted, and gestured to the wide expanse of the beach stretching out behind where they stood. ‘Mind you, smugglers always loved this coastline,’ he said. ‘Brandy, tea, tobacco – and now people. Hasn’t changed for centuries.’

  ‘Sorry – didn’t catch your name?’

  ‘Tom Harcourt.’

  ‘How long have you lived here, Tom?’

  ‘About fifteen years.’

  ‘Do you have an interest in the history of the place?’

  ‘I suppose so. I moved down here from Wiltshire after I got divorced.’

  ‘Thought I recognised the accent. It’s a long way from Wiltshire.’

  He shrugged. ‘The house belonged to a great-uncle of mine. He left it to me in his will. I needed to live somewhere different after losing Celia.’

  Kay ran her gaze over the lines of the boat. ‘Do you fish?’

  ‘Only for myself. Not commercially. Sometimes it’s just good to get out on the water, and away from the land. Gives me time to think.’

  Kay wandered over to the barbed wire fence that separated the property from the beach and plucked at a small feather caught on one of the sharp spikes. ‘This fence a recent addition?’

  ‘Not much else I can do. Can’t afford one of those fancy alarm systems.’

  He brushed past her and headed towards the house, then removed the cigarette stub from his mouth and dropped it into a bright blue children’s beach bucket filled with sand next to the back door.

  ‘Have you seen any suspicious activity recently?’ said Carys.

  He scratched his ear. ‘No. But I hear bits and pieces. Webster did mention lights on the beach late at night.’

  ‘And you didn’t report it?’

  ‘What’s the point, love? Even if Webster’s not imagining things, your lot and that Border Agency bunch can’t do anything about it, can you? You stop one boat, there’ll be three more ready to take its place on the next night’s tide.’ He sighed. ‘It’s all very well going on about how they’re increasing security at the ferry terminals and Eurotunnel, but where does that leave us? I remember ten years ago round here, no-one locked their doors at night. Now we’re having stuff stolen left, right and centre.’