"How was she? Angry, upset?"
"Didn't look pleased. Not angry as such. Flustered, maybe. Yeah, that's a good description. Flustered. She was walking quickly. Her heels were clacking on the ground, scraping like she wasn't walking properly. Does that make sense?"
Tamara inclined her head thoughtfully to one side but didn't answer the question. "But to be clear, you didn't see her coming from Mr Gage's house."
McGee shook his head emphatically.
"Okay, and you've seen her before, so can you describe her to me?"
"About your height," McGee said, looking Tamara up and down. "Brown hair. Long brown hair, straight. Probably in her thirties. Made up. You know, attractive. She was wearing white jeans and a blue jumper. I've always liked a woman in white trousers." Tamara found that particular revelation a little peculiar to be sharing. "I thought the jumper was an odd choice. She must have been warm in it because it was wool or cashmere. Really odd choice for June."
"Been chilly in the mornings recently and the storm hasn't helped."
"Right enough. You should see the damage the wind has done to my plants! Flattened a lot of them."
"Was she carrying anything?" Cassie asked. McGee looked at her. "When she left. Was she carrying anything?"
"What, like a bag or something?"
Cassie shrugged. "Whatever."
"No, I don't think so." His eyes narrowed. "Not that I can remember."
"A red Golf, you say?"
McGee nodded.
"What about Mr Gage in general?" Tamara asked. "What was he like to have around? Did he get many visitors?"
"Can't say as I know, which probably means he didn't. Unless they came after I'd clocked off and gone home. I never heard anyone discussing any loud parties or anything. I reckon he was a quiet bloke. Did his own thing. I never heard anyone say a bad word about him. You should probably speak to the manager. He's here a lot more than me, knows everyone, comings and goings."
"Okay. Is he here now?"
McGee shook his head. "Taken a couple of days off. Switchover with the guests, so it goes quiet until they leave and the next ones arrive."
"Is it okay if I leave you a card and you can have him call me when he's back?"
"Of course, happy to."
"You don't live here then?" Tamara said, indicating towards the windmill.
"No. I live a way up the hill. But I'm here every day."
"And going back to this woman," Tamara said. "Do you happen to remember the number plate on her car, or anything else that might be useful?"
"Can't help you with the plate, I'm afraid. Never been one for numbers."
"What about her? Anything else stand out in your memory?"
"As I said, been here a few times. Come to think about it, she often had a kid with her."
Cassie and Tamara exchanged glances. Tamara encouraged him to continue.
"Yeah, a few times I saw her with a little girl. She was like a spit of her, so I guess it was her daughter. Yeah, must have been her daughter, thinking about it. Not seen the kid for a while, though."
"Right, thanks for that, Mr McGee. We'll need to speak to you again in order to get all of this down more formally, but I think we can leave it there for now."
"Okay. Well, you know where to find me. Pleased I could help. Nasty business."
"It is that Mr McGee. Thanks for coming forward."
The man turned and left, heading back into the complex and disappearing from view. Cassie sucked air through her teeth, drawing Tamara's attention.
"Go on then," she said. "Say what you're thinking."
"Timescale certainly fits. Regular visitor, flustered."
"And the rest."
Tamara fixed Cassie with a stare. Cassie looked away as she spoke.
"A red Volkswagen Golf?"
Tamara nodded solemnly. "Yep. A red Golf."
Chapter Nine
Tamara was well aware Cassie was thinking the same as her but chose not to voice it. Pretty soon they would need to address the matter but for now, without anything akin to a smoking gun, they would proceed with caution. She wasn't ready to pull on that particular thread just yet.
"I haven't spoken to the neighbours who found him yet," Cassie said. "Maybe we should have a word before we decide next steps?"
Cassie was being diplomatic, skirting the newly discovered elephant in the room. It was a good idea but what these people had to say might only make matters more uncomfortable. Tamara hoped not. They cut through the yard and onto the path leading to another route across the marsh towards the beach. Tamara noticed a massive cast-iron seal on what she guessed was a tidal gate, part of the system to avoid the village flooding. It didn't look like it had moved in years though, so how effective it might be if needed she wasn't sure.
The gate into the garden of the next-door property was ajar, and Cassie led the way. This was another stone-built house, in the same style as Adrian Gage's, although much larger. It was rectangular, probably a former storage barn, and sat to one side of the plot with its exterior making up the perimeter wall of Gage's courtyard. There were no windows overlooking the area though, so no chance of the occupants having witnessed anything inside the house.
They found a couple sitting at a table on a patio in the shaded part of the garden. The man rose as they approached, forcing a smile. He didn't bother to ask, he'd already guessed they were with the police. Tamara took out her warrant card anyway and introduced them. They were offered seats and accepted, sitting down opposite the couple.
"This isn't what I was expecting to be doing today, I must say."
Tamara smiled sympathetically. "It must have been quite a shock, finding your neighbour like you did. I am right in thinking it was you and not your wife who found Mr Gage?"
"Yes, it was me. Marjorie," he indicated his wife beside him, "commented on the noise the cat was making. Very unusual. It kept going on and in the end I said I'd have a look."
His wife elaborated.
"Adrian is very good with looking after his cat," she said. "I think the creature loves being home so much it hardly goes out. I always said that was strange, but Adrian described it as a house cat. We used to look after it when he was away."
Tamara thought on that point. "My understanding is that he hadn't lived here very long. Less than a year?"
Marjorie nodded. "Yes, that's true. But he is away so often with his work. And we don't mind, do we, Frank?" Her husband shook his head. "Now that we're retired, we're always around. It really was no problem."
"So, you have a key to the house?"
"Yes, we do. To the back door," Frank said. "But I couldn't open it today… for obvious reasons."
He averted his eyes from Tamara's. She figured he was in shock. Perhaps they both were.
"So, you went next door to see what the issue with the cat was and… looked through the window?"
"Yes, that's right," Frank said. "I thought about smashing the window in front of the kitchen sink to get in but, well, let's face it at my age, I'm not exactly Spiderman am I? I thought it best to call the professionals."
"Were the two of you home yesterday?" They both nodded. "Think back, was there anything that happened yesterday, that you saw or heard, that was maybe a little odd. Particularly in light of what we found today?"
The couple exchanged a quick glance, Marjorie looking down at the cup of tea she was nursing in her hands. Frank cleared his throat before looking at Tamara and then Cassie.
"There was a bit of an argument going on. Raised voices anyway. I wasn't listening in," he said. "I was just out here checking on my tomatoes. It's a bit hard to know whether they've been getting enough water these past few weeks, what with the weather being so changeable."
Tamara looked to her left, seeing a line of tomato plants staked out along the boundary wall. A number of them had lower leaves that were speckled brown and turning yellow at the tips. If anything, they were getting too much water but she didn't comment.
"Rai
sed voices you say?" Frank confirmed with a brief nod. "Are you sure they were coming from next door, Mr Gage's house?"
"Definitely. I recognised his voice."
"Who was he arguing with, do you know?"
"Oh, couldn't say. It went on for a bit, though. Then it went quiet and I figured it was over."
"And then?"
"That's it. I watered the plants and went back inside."
"You heard nothing more?" He shook his head. "Can you describe a little more about what you heard?"
"Such as?"
"The number of voices you could hear, were they male or female? What were they arguing about?"
Frank exhaled heavily, placing his own cup back down on the table and rubbing his chin with thumb and forefinger. "I would say two voices… one being Adrian and another someone else. As to what they were discussing, and I wouldn't say they were arguing as such because I couldn't hear the words being said."
"Both male or one female?"
"Couldn't say. It was all muffled, sorry."
Tamara waited patiently until she was sure he wasn't about to offer anything more. "Tell me what you made of Adrian?"
"Lovely young man," Marjorie said, sitting forward with a broad smile. "Polite and charming. Raised well." Frank nodded along to his wife's description but didn't appear to want to add anything.
"Did he ever talk about his work with you?"
Frank frowned. "Can't say he did, no. I think he was a photographer or something."
"What makes you think so?"
"I saw him with a serious bit of kit, going out one night. He must have been going to take some night-time shots. I’m quite a keen birder. It's a prerequisite when you live where we do, and I'd love to have the type of camera he does. I'll bet he has some fantastic shots in his collection, taken day or night."
"Why would you say that?"
"What?"
"Day or night? Was your neighbour prone to being out at all hours?"
It was Marjorie who answered as her husband suddenly came across all bashful. "Adrian did keep some rather odd hours. Coming and going at all manner of times. That's why we think he must be a photographer. You would have odd hours if you're taking landscape shots, sunrise and sunset. And you never really know when the migratory birds will stop this way. You've been up and out in the early hours, or staying out most of the night, just to hear the lark's song, haven't you, Frank," she said tapping her husband's elbow. He lifted his eye to meet Tamara's but only for a second before looking away again.
"Oh yes. All night… sometimes."
Something about his reticence piqued her curiosity but that was a conversation for another time. Instead, Tamara smiled warmly, casting a subtle glance towards Cassie who appeared to have picked up the same point from the comment.
"Right, thank you. One last question, at what time were you out watering your plants yesterday?"
"It would have been a little after five," he said, his eyebrows knitting. Frank seemed much happier discussing the watering of their plants rather than his overnight excursions. "The plants are in the shade by then and I won't risk burning the leaves. So I came out here after five and went back inside fifteen to twenty minutes later. Right, love?"
Marjorie agreed.
Tamara thanked them and they left. Once through the gate and out of earshot, Tamara looked at Cassie. "What they said changes things a little, doesn't it."
"If the caretaker is right and the woman left around four, she can't have been the one having a heated discussion with Gage an hour and a bit later."
"Unless she came back and he didn't see her."
Cassie frowned. "True. One or both of them could have their timings wrong as well. It would be good to get some corroboration. And where's this camera Frank was talking about? I haven't seen one in the house or car."
"The bag with the laptop has a number of SD cards stored in one of the pockets. They could have been used in a camera. To think, this one was beginning to look like a potentially easy case to solve, if not personally awkward, but now I'm not so sure."
Cassie pursed her lips. Evidently she had something she needed to get out. Tamara encouraged her with a raised eyebrow.
"I think we both know who the red Golf belongs to, don't we?"
"Yes," Tamara said. "And we will speak to her. If Frank hadn't thrown a spanner in the works with the time frame, I would say we should go straight over there now, but perhaps we need to dig around a bit more first."
Cassie accepted that without argument. "I am a little bothered about something else though."
"What's that?"
"I want to know what our Frank has been getting up to when he tells his good lady he's off eyeing birds during the wee small hours. Something tells me they aren't the same birds he's describing to Marjorie."
Tamara watched as a wry smile crossed Cassie's face and she struggled to contain one of her own.
Chapter Ten
Tom Janssen pulled up in the driveway of Alice's house. Switching off the engine, he sat back in his seat, pressing his head against the rest. How many times had he been the one to deliver news like this? Too many. But never had he had to break it to someone he was close to. Whom he loved. It felt very different. He considered himself to be an empathetic man, always feeling the pull of the raw emotion that the next of kin would invariably be feeling when learning of a loved one's death. This was different. Alice could take it. She was strong, but Saffy, quite understandably, would be utterly devastated. Placing the heels of his palms to his eyes, he pressed firmly, feeling the beginnings of a stress headache. It was best to get it over with.
Getting out he approached the front door, exhaling deeply as he unlocked it and walked in. Russell heard him first, appearing from the kitchen and excitedly yapping to greet him. His coat was in his hand and by the time he'd hung it on the rack next to the door, Alice was before him, standing in the kitchen doorway. She had an inquisitive look on her face.
"You're home early."
He smiled weakly and walked towards her. Something in his expression must have tipped her off because her warm smile faded as he approached.
"What is it?" she asked.
Tom reached out and took her hands in his, pursing his lips. He couldn't hold her eye, staring at his feet. This was harder than he'd have ever imagined.
"I'm sorry."
"Tom, you're scaring me."
He looked up, taking a deep breath only for Saffy to appear from behind her mother, pushing past her and in between them. Tom released his grip on Alice's hands and stepped back, smiling down at the little girl.
"Tom!" she said, holding her arms aloft. He lowered himself down and she jumped into his arms. He lifted her up and she placed both hands on either cheek, grinning at him. Her hands were soft and felt warm. She was still dressed in her pyjamas.
"Hey, Munchkin," he said, returning her smile. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at school."
"She wasn't feeling well this morning. Upset stomach."
"Is that right?" Tom said, focussing on Saffy in his arms. She seemed upbeat enough now. Alice must have read his mind.
"It seemed like the right thing to keep her off for the day. Seems better now, though."
The smile left Saffy's face and she ran a hand through her hair which seemed to be growing curlier by the day.
"I think my tummy hurts a bit again," she said, laying on her apparent weakened state in her tone.
"I am sorry to hear that," Tom said with a frown and emphasised seriousness. "What do you think might make you feel better?"
"I'm not sure," Saffy said, twirling her hair with one hand and looking upwards as she thought through the possibilities. "Ice cream?"
Tom shook his head. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"Erm… biscuits?"
"Not a chance, young lady," Alice said. Tom kissed the girl on the forehead and lowered her back to the floor. "Why don't you go back to the sofa and get under the blanket."
; Tom could hear the television now. The voices sounded familiar but he couldn't place which cartoon she was currently streaming. Saffy looked up at Tom and smiled again, turning to her mother and delivering a frown to convey her frustration at not getting what she wanted before scurrying back through the dining area and into the living room. Alice reached out and took Tom's forearm. Now it was her turn to show concern.
"Tom, is everything okay?"
Tom cast an eye in Saffy's direction, as if he could see through the wall between the hall and the living room. They moved into the kitchen and Alice pushed the door to, ensuring Saffy wouldn't overhear what they were saying.
"What is it?"
"I've just come from Adrian's place."
"Ade's? Why ever have you been there?" she said, but her tone didn't suggest surprise to him. There was something else there but he ignored it. This was hard enough as it is.
"I'm sorry, Alice," he said, glancing sideways to make sure Saffy hadn't moved from her place on the sofa. "Adrian… he was killed yesterday."
Alice's face dropped. For a second that was the only reaction, as if she hadn't properly heard what he'd just said. Then her eyes fluttered and her entire body appeared to shake. He stepped forward to catch her, thinking she was about to faint but she took a half-step away from him, reaching out and steadying herself with one hand on the kitchen worktop. She looked up at him, seemingly searching his face to see if he was telling the truth.
"Are you… I mean, are you sure it's Ade?"
He nodded. "I'm sure. We found him in his house this morning. It's not official yet but, we're sure."
Alice took a deep breath, struggling to do so as she inhaled in ragged draws, her body constricting when she needed it to relax. Turning away from him, she placed her free hand on the worktop alongside the other and leaned over, trying to calm herself.
"My god. Poor Saffy," she said, looking to her right through the glass panes of the door, and into where her daughter was, happily snuggled under a multicoloured blanket watching the television.
The Dead Call: A chilling British detective crime thriller (The Hidden Norfolk Murder Mystery Series Book 6) Page 8
