The Dead Call: A chilling British detective crime thriller (The Hidden Norfolk Murder Mystery Series Book 6)

by J M Dalgliesh

Tom's brow furrowed. "I think he has a sister who lives this way, but I've never met her."

  Tamara smiled. "Great, thanks." She reached out and put a gentle hand on his arm, tilting her head towards her shoulder. "Go home. See Alice and… well, you know."

  Tom knew she was thinking of Saffy. His thoughts were already drifting to her as well. Children had to learn to experience loss, it was important for their emotional development, but that shouldn't come with the loss of a parent. It was one of the harshest lessons any person would face in life, but to do so at her age was almost unbearable to contemplate.

  "Okay. I'll check in with you later."

  Tom turned to leave.

  "Take care, Tom," Tamara said as he walked away. He glanced back and smiled in thanks.

  Tamara Greave saw Cassie hovering at the entrance to the house as soon as she entered the passage between the complex and the path through to the marshes. If Cassie was surprised to see her approaching alone, then she hid it well.

  "Tom gone to see Alice?"

  Tamara nodded. "Yes. He wanted her to hear it from him rather than one of the locals spreading it around."

  The explanation was partly true, but she saw no need to announce her decision to keep him away from the case. That would be clear soon enough. Cassie handed her covers for her shoes and they both put them on.

  "CSI have photographed the body and are happy for us to take a look around. It's a bit of a tight squeeze inside, what with everyone doing their thing."

  Once they were ready, Tamara indicated for Cassie to lead and they entered the house. Tamara noticed a few of the local residents watching from nearby windows . The proximity of the other residences offered the possibility of an eyewitness having seen or heard something from the day before. They walked along a narrow entrance hall, Tamara glancing into a front-facing sitting room as they passed. A CSI technician, clad in white paper coveralls, was documenting something. They came to the kitchen, Tamara recognising Dr Williams, their local doctor who doubled up as their on-call forensic medical examiner, standing beside the body. The doctor greeted her arrival.

  "Hi Tamara," she said with a warm smile. "I appreciate the extra work and all but I do have patients I'm supposed to be looking after as well, you know."

  Tamara smiled. "I know. We'll have to check if someone has put something in the water around here. What can you tell me?"

  Dr Fiona Williams turned her attention back to the deceased. "Cassie has identified him, so she can fill you on his age, so I won't bother with the guesswork. As tempting as it is to pretend I don't already know, and then judge his age perfectly."

  "Stabbing?" Tamara asked, glancing at Cassie beside her.

  "Yes. Three clear wounds to the torso," Dr Williams said, lowering herself carefully, so she could indicate the wounds.

  To avoid contaminating the scene by risking stepping in the blood, the CSI team had placed upturned plastic milk crates on the floor for the officers to use as steppingstones to get around the kitchen. Dr Williams was currently perched upon two of these.

  "As I said, three wounds. One to the stomach and two to the upper torso. I suspect one of those pierced the poor soul's heart, which would have led to him bleeding out before he could summon help."

  "Thoughts on the weapon?"

  "Nothing more complicated than a knife," Dr Williams said. She glanced up at the work surface, pointing to the knife block. "Cassie noticed a blade is missing. Judging from the width of the empty slot, I wouldn't be surprised if that turned out to be the murder weapon. The width of the stab wounds is consistent, so you can rule out a screwdriver or anything narrower."

  Cassie pointed to the open dishwasher. "That's not been run and it's full. No sign of the missing knife in there or any of the drawers. It's a strong possibility."

  "Okay. Organise the uniforms outside to sweep the immediate area. If the killer took it with them, they may have discarded it nearby."

  "Will do," Cassie said, turning and leaving the room.

  "May I?" Tamara asked and Dr Williams gingerly stepped down from the crates, allowing her to step up. She made a cursory inspection of the body, focussing on his hands. The doctor noticed.

  "No indication of defensive wounds."

  Tamara glanced up, acknowledging the point. She looked at his fingers, seeing he had long nails, long for a man at any rate. She pointed to them.

  "Yes, I noticed that too. He appears to be quite a clean man, not a lot of dirt under those nails, but he's not too concerned about ragged edges. There is some material there worth a more detailed examination by the lab. It looks like some blue fibres got caught up in the nails under his thumb and forefinger. If I had to guess I'd say it was wool or something similar."

  "He's not wearing anything woollen," Tamara said aloud, scanning the body as she stood up. "In a struggle perhaps?"

  Dr Williams cocked her head. "If it was then it would have been brief. I suspect that wound to his heart would have ended things pretty quickly."

  Tamara acknowledged the point and made her way over to the other side of the kitchen, stepping down on the far side of the body. In the corner was a small table with two chairs. It was a tight fit, snug for two and unsuitable for any more than that. A small glass tea-light holder was in the middle of the table but pushed towards the wall and beside that was a wine bottle. Tamara leaned over, seeing it was almost empty. It was a Rioja, one that was available from supermarkets and one she'd tried herself. Already wearing her nitrile gloves, she turned back to the dishwasher, lowering the door to inspect the contents. The bottom rack had three dirty plates in it, each one evenly spaced out with an unused place setting in between, probably to ensure the water was able to get to them. One of the plates, the one at the rear, had breadcrumbs stuck to it whereas the other two both appeared to have had the same meal served on them. She could tell by the residue of the sauce. Pulling out the top rack, she noted two wine glasses were present. Looking closer, one of these had lipstick on the rim. It was a deep shade of pink. She called through to the other room and one of the technicians appeared in the doorway. She pointed the glasses out to him. They may have already been noted, but she wanted to be sure it wasn't missed.

  "Tamara?"

  She turned to see Cassie in the doorway.

  "What is it?"

  Cassie beckoned her to follow and Tamara made her way back towards the front of the house, tentatively stepping over the deceased by way of the crates once again. She followed Cassie into the front sitting room. The cottage was evidently very small, with only the two rooms downstairs. If the footprint of the upstairs was the same, then there would only be two bedrooms and a bathroom. If Gage was a freelance journalist, he was unlikely to have an office and would probably work from home. Her theory was confirmed when Cassie pointed out the cables she'd found in the room, nestling between the arm of the sofa and the wall, almost out of sight.

  Tamara dropped to her haunches and followed the path of the cable around to a plug socket in the corner of the room. It was a power pack for a laptop. Imagining herself sitting on this end of the sofa, she looked across the room to the television in the corner. This was the prime viewing spot, confirmed by the extra wear on the fabric of the cushion. Gage probably spent a fair bit of time here with his computer resting in his lap.

  "Any sign of the laptop itself?"

  Cassie shook her head. "We can't find anything to do with his work at all," she said, looking around the room.

  Tamara glanced upwards as if trying to see through the ceiling to the upstairs.

  "No, nothing up there," Cassie said. "Two bedrooms. One master and the other set up for a child. Saffy, I should imagine. There's no desk or anything up there in either room. No space for one."

  Tamara blew out her cheeks. "If it's a robbery, it stands to reason the laptop would be missing."

  "Doesn't look like any robbery I've ever seen before. Look at this place. It's immaculate. And I found Gage's wallet on the TV stand," Cassie said, gesturing
towards the television. Tamara's gaze followed. "It has his credit cards and fifty quid in cash. If it's a burglary gone wrong, then this guy was incompetent as well as being the most courteous thief ever."

  "Car?"

  Cassie produced an evidence bag, holding it aloft. "Keys. I checked the DVLA database and there's a blue Audi A3 registered to Gage at this address. I was just going to have a look outside."

  Tamara nodded. "Let's go."

  Chapter Eight

  Tamara led the way back outside. Emerging into the warm sunshine, standing as they were in a walled front garden in the lee of the building, Tamara shielded her eyes. Looking back at the house she could now see how secluded the property was from the neighbouring ones. Despite being surrounded by others, with a few windows offering a vantage point to partially overlook the property, Gage's cottage had a largely private front garden tucked behind a shoulder-high stone wall that offered a degree of shelter from prying eyes. The courtyard to one side, itself hemmed in by a substantial wall, was not overlooked at all. It seemed to be the way of things in the village. Unlikely to have been so by design, it was more the result of a historical trading quayside that'd been converted into residential accommodation over the years. It wasn't hard to imagine all of these buildings being used to store grain or other goods coming and going back when this village was a coastal port. The small windows and thick walls offered a degree of privacy that wouldn't be found in modern purpose-built housing estates where windows overlooked gardens at every turn. Most houses here didn't seem to have gardens.

  Cassie lingered on the path, observing her and then slowly followed her gaze across the surrounding premises.

  "What are you thinking?" she asked.

  Tamara scrunched up her face. She wasn't really sure. Her fear was that although the residents were on top of one another, due to how these properties were entwined they might struggle to find a witness who saw or heard something.

  "Has anyone been door to door yet?" Tamara asked.

  "Not yet, no."

  Tamara nodded and set off for the gate. Once through it was only a few steps into the windmill's complex. Several cars were parked there but there was no sign of Gage's. Coming to the edge of the cordon a number of locals were gathered in the car park, cameras in hand and apparently heading for a walk across the salt marsh, but none of them were looking in that direction. All of them were facing the crime scene, expectantly observing the comings and goings. Cassie and Tamara ducked under the cordon. No one said anything to them and only paid them a cursory glance. The attention was largely focussed on the CSI techs, in their white coveralls, liaising with the two men who'd arrived from the undertakers to transport the body to the morgue once given the all clear to remove it from the scene.

  Adrian Gage's car was parked in an open patch of waste ground at the old quayside. There was room here for a half dozen cars. Currently there were only two vehicles there. On the other side of the cars were a number of boats, a mixture of small skiffs and casual sailing vessels moored on the River Glaven. Cassie pressed the button on the fob. The hazard lights flashed as the doors unlocked. Tamara glanced through the passenger window as Cassie opened the driver's door. The car was presented in a similar manner to the house, clean and tidy. She indicated for Cassie to examine the interior while she moved to the boot.

  Popping it open, she found it full, in stark contrast to the cabin. Before touching anything, she took a few pictures with her mobile phone and then proceeded to examine the contents. She found a holdall, similar in size to a gym bag, at one side. Unzipping it, she found it was stuffed with changes of clothes. It was all casual gear, T-shirts, a jumper, a pair of jeans along with changes of underwear. It was all clean, neatly folded and packed efficiently. Next to the holdall was a rolled-up sleeping bag and on top of that was an all-weather coat similar to what hikers would wear when out braving the elements. Next to this was a dark blue polyester bag. Pulling it towards her, she realised it contained a rolled-up tent. By the size of it, it couldn't have been more than a two-man offering. Lying horizontally on the floor of the boot, flat against the rear seats, was a collapsible camping chair. A small backpack was tucked between a cardboard box and the rear wheel arch protruding into the boot space. This wasn't for hiking. It was black, unusual for a hiking bag, with a roll-top design that folded over and secured where the bag met the wearer's back. Feeling it, it was padded to protect the contents.

  Opening it, she smiled as she saw the laptop inside along with a clutch of folders and several note pads. She would wait until they were back at the station before emptying the bag. For now, she loosely fingered the contents, spying a set of pocket binoculars in a carry case along with a portable power pack, probably for an emergency recharging of a mobile phone. There were two small pockets on the interior that could be zipped up. One was empty, but the other held a small, opaque plastic box that clicked shut. Carefully opening it, she found a number of SD cards. Closing it, she returned it to the pocket and zipped it up again. Cassie appeared alongside her just as she looked into the cardboard box. The box itself was nothing special. The four flaps on the top had been turned inside to give it more strength and rigidity. Besides a spare petrol can, which was empty, there was a carry case for a single gas burner and the canister required to power it. Tamara picked it up and gave it a shake. It was half empty. Next to the burner was a pair of aluminium tins with folding handles. These could be used both to cook with and eat from. Everything looked to be in very good condition, suggesting it was fairly new.

  "Does Adrian Gage strike you as the sort of guy who likes living out in the wilds?" she asked.

  Cassie frowned. "Quite the opposite."

  "That's what I thought. Everything in the house is very precise."

  "Judging by his wardrobe, he's into his designer gear," Cassie said. "I'd say he was more into smart-casual work wear and loafers rather than hiking boots and insect repellent. And his toiletries collection rivals mine. Doesn't seem like the outdoorsy type to me at all."

  "This stuff doesn't look very old. I wonder what he's been up to recently?"

  "Is that a laptop bag?" Cassie asked.

  "Yes. Maybe that will tell us what he's been working on."

  "Excuse me."

  They both turned to see a constable approaching with a member of the public in tow.

  "What can I do for you?" Tamara asked, removing her gloves and gesturing for Cassie to close the boot lid.

  "This is Luke McGee," the constable said. "He works here as a caretaker for the windmill accommodation and the site in general. He'd like a word, if that's okay?"

  "Of course," Tamara said, smiling warmly at the man and introducing herself and Cassie. "What can I do for you?"

  "I'm here most days," McGee said, glancing over his shoulder back towards the windmill. "I take care of the general maintenance, gardening and such like. I know most people who frequent these parts either by name or certainly by face. Bearing in mind what seems to have happened yesterday, I thought I should come forward."

  "I'm very pleased you did, Mr McGee," Tamara said, smiling again. The man was nervous, that was clear. He was shifting his weight between his feet and looking almost anywhere but at her. Perhaps he was someone who didn't like eye contact or maybe he was on edge talking to the police. Then again, there'd been a murder on his doorstep and he was understandably rattled. She set aside her cynicism. "Did you see something yesterday?"

  "I knew Adrian… to speak to at least. Not well. I mean, we would pass the time of day if we bumped into each other."

  "Okay, that's great," Tamara said, trying to encourage him to say whatever was on his mind. "And something from yesterday stuck in your mind?"

  Finally, he met her eye, holding her gaze and nodding slowly. Almost immediately he shook his head, evidently uncertain.

  "Well either it did or it didn't," she said.

  "It did. I mean, I saw someone leaving yesterday."

  "Leaving Mr Gage's house?"

/>   "Probably."

  The answer was less than convincing.

  "Probably?"

  "I think so. I mean, I've seen her around before and she isn't one of the residents nor one of those renting the holiday lets."

  "And she may have been here to see Mr Gage?"

  McGee nodded. "I've seen them talking before."

  "What about yesterday specifically?"

  "No, I didn't see them together, if that's what you mean."

  "Right. And do you know her… either by name or to speak to?" she asked, using his own description.

  "No, no I don't. Adrian hasn't been here very long. Less than a year I think."

  Tamara thought approaching a year was quite a long time but maybe not in these parts.

  "As I say, I've seen her here before. Drives a red Volkswagen. A Golf, I think," he said, his brow furrowing as he thought hard.

  "And what time did you see her yesterday?"

  "I couldn't tell you when she arrived, but her car was definitely parked here," he said, indicating where they were standing, "at eleven o'clock in the morning when I came into the front yard. I had to weed the raised beds." Tamara looked beyond him to the planters decorating the yard around the windmill site. "I was at it for a couple of hours with a lunch break in between. I saw her leave."

  "What time?"

  "Around four-ish, I would say. She crossed the yard to walk back to her car."

  Tamara looked at Cassie, who was taking notes. She met Tamara's eye and raised an eyebrow. Tamara pursed her lips.

  "And did you speak with her at all?"

  "No. I acknowledged her, much as I do when anyone walks past me. It's just good manners, isn't it? If someone smiles back then it makes you feel good, even a stranger. It does me, at any rate."

  "And did she? Respond?"

  McGee chewed on his lower lip. "No. She ignored me. At least I think she ignored me. We made eye contact, but she pretended we didn't."

  "And then?"

  "Then nothing," McGee said, relaxing. "I shrugged it off and got on with my work. I figured she was having a rotten day. We all have them."