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

by J M Dalgliesh

  "Yes, repeatedly. Eventually her file was passed up to CID to investigate. I imagine her as being quite a formidable woman." Tom agreed. Formidable was certainly an apt description but he could imagine some more colourful words also being used.

  "And the outcome?"

  "No case to answer. In the investigator's opinion," Eric said. "I'd have to check whose case it was. I can't remember off the top of my head. It didn't go down well with Mary Beckett, though. And it didn't stop her filing reports. In the end she was advised to stop wasting police time. She even lodged a complaint against the station."

  "Formidable," Tom said.

  "Yes, very. But, in the end, she stopped calling us."

  Tom considered that. Did she do so because she was a fantasist or did she lose faith in the police to protect her? The fact she'd been murdered certainly put her allegations, and the police, in a new light.

  Chapter Nineteen

  "Mr Crowe?" Tom asked. The man standing in the doorway was in his late fifties, red-faced with contrasting white hair. He was heavy set, perhaps formerly a working man who tilled his land, but his frame was now reminiscent of a less active life. He looked Tom up and down, his eyes flitting to Eric. Tom brandished his warrant card. "Detective Inspector Tom Janssen. Could we have a word?"

  "You'd better come in," Crowe said, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let them through. Tom entered first and Eric followed. Daniel Crowe closed the door. They were standing in a vast entrance hall, a double height space lit by huge panes of glass set above the entrance door. Massive beams bridged the gap between walls, age-old timbers gnarled and pitted with what looked like man-made cuts in them. He wondered what they were for. Crowe came alongside him, noting Tom's interest.

  "This used to be one of the old barns we used when the farm was much larger than it is now. Those beams came from the tall ships when they were refitted. That's why they have those cuts in them."

  Tom followed the line of the beams, seeing the cuts were uniform and evenly spaced. Imagining them vertically rather than horizontally, as they were now, he could see where they made up the floor joists. He'd seen such holes in other old properties over the years but never realised this was the reason.

  "There's a lot of history on show."

  Crowe smiled. "The character is built right into the fabric of the building. It was the best decision we ever made, selling the old place and converting this. Now, what can I do for you Inspector?"

  "We're investigating the murder of a local woman, Mary Beckett. I believe you know her."

  Crowe's mouth fell open at the mention of Beckett's murder. Whether that was a result of hearing about her death or his link to her, Tom couldn't tell. His lips moved as he tried to form words, but he was clearly thrown. It didn't seem like he was a man easily thrown. It unsettled him.

  "She's been murdered? I hadn't heard."

  "I'm afraid so."

  Crowe gathered himself and gestured for them to accompany him. "Please, do come through." He set off across the hall, showing them through to an adjoining room. Whereas the entrance hall was dominated by wood, this room was much softer in tone. Three large four-person sofas were arranged in a U shape around a large wood burner set into the far wall. The carpets were deep pile and a large sheepskin rug was laid out before the fireplace. They took a seat, Crowe appearing awkward. He must be concerned about why they were there to see him.

  "Murdered, you say?" Crowe sat forward, elbows on his knees, slowly rubbing his palms together. "And why do you need to speak to me?"

  "A witness saw you arguing with Mary recently."

  "Really?"

  "Outside the Blakeney Village Hall."

  Crowe drew a deep breath, raising himself upright and slowly nodding as he recalled the event. "Ah… yes. That would be correct. Words… were exchanged and it did get a little heated between the two of us."

  "Can you elaborate for us?" Tom asked. Eric was poised with a pen hovering over his notebook. "What was the argument relating to?"

  "Oh, well, yes, that's easy enough. Mary and I don't… didn't," he corrected himself, "see eye to eye on a number of issues. Predominantly progress."

  "Progress?"

  He nodded emphatically. "It's been a long-held battle between two sides, Inspector. Between those who want things to be preserved pretty much as they are and those of us who see the future in a very different way. You can't stand in the way of progress, otherwise society will collapse around you."

  "Right. I see," Tom said. Crowe was being far too vague. "You are one of the major landholders in the area, isn't that correct?" Crowe agreed with a satisfied smile crossing his face momentarily. "But as I understand it," Tom glanced at Eric, "you have diversified your agricultural business, leaning more towards property development. Is that right?"

  "Fair description, yes. My family have worked these parts for generations, but personal circumstances enforced a change." Tom raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. "My wife and I… well, I have no sons to continue the farm, and we're not getting any younger."

  "You have no children?"

  Crowe shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. And that is how it's always worked within the family. Unfortunately, I will be the last Crowe to work the land around these parts." His face took on a faraway look, then he sighed and returned his attention to Tom. "So, we made a decision a few years ago to lease out much of the agricultural land to tenant farmers, sold other parts for development and have kept an open mind regarding the future. It's all been quite an adjustment for us but, despite the land being in my blood, a worthwhile one, I fancy."

  The door to the room opened and a woman entered. She started when she caught sight of Tom and Eric, placing one hand on her chest in surprise.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't realise we had company."

  "They're from the police, love," Crowe said. "This is my wife, Elizabeth."

  Both Tom and Eric smiled as she came to sit alongside her husband. As she sat down, Daniel Crowe reached across to adjust the hem of her flowing summer dress, ensuring that it adequately covered her legs. Tom found the action curious because her dress was in no way revealing.

  "Whatever are the police doing here?" she asked. She appeared nervous about their presence, sitting down and putting her hands together in her lap.

  "They're investigating Mary Beckett's death," Crowe told her. "Apparently she was murdered."

  Elizabeth Crowe audibly gasped, looking between her husband and Tom. "Why ever would they think you could help?"

  "It's that little spat we had after the planning consultation. You remember?"

  She nodded, pursing her lips. "Strange woman, Mary." She turned to Tom immediately, shock in her expression. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude… but she was a little odd."

  "Mad old bat!" Crowe said, drawing a stern glance from his wife. His expression softened as he immediately backtracked. "Sorry, Inspector. But, as my wife says, Mary was an odd one. We certainly clashed on what innovations were justifiable for the area but, aside from that, she was weird. But that's what you get for spending your entire life focussed on birds, talking to no one but the trees and that halfwit of a sister of hers."

  "Daniel!" Elizabeth said, averting her eyes from both detectives in embarrassment.

  "Sorry, love," he said, patting her thigh softly.

  Tom sat forward, glancing to his left to see if Eric was picking up the body language as well as the nuances in the conversation. He was making copious notes, so he was confident. "Can we go back a bit? You said you fell out that night over… progress?"

  Daniel Crowe nodded. "Yes. It was a planning consultation meeting set up for local residents to listen to what the developers had in mind."

  "Houses?"

  "No, no. Not on this occasion. This was a consultation on the proposed Norfolk Wash Wind Farm." Tom hadn't heard much about this particular project. He knew the Crown Estate had released parcels of offshore land for development of renewable technologies, but be
yond that, which was what Eric had told him earlier, he was in the dark. "The firm which obtained the licence was looking for locations to bring the cabling ashore."

  "Cabling?" Eric asked.

  "Yes. It's all very well having these offshore wind farms, but the power needs to make landfall somewhere. It requires a switching station to connect the energy to the national grid."

  Tom cupped his chin between thumb and forefinger, noticing the anniversary cards on the mantelpiece above the wood burner. Seemingly the couple had recently celebrated being married for thirty-five years. "Presumably, if Mary Beckett was opposed to this, it was the potential siting of the switching station she objected to."

  "Location, size… having one at all," Crowe said with a dismissive laugh. "I mean, I know the station would be large but it has to be in order to cope with the wind farm for heaven's sake. But she was so against the development." He was becoming quite animated, wagging a finger as he spoke. "There were three proposed sites for the switching station. Not one of them was acceptable for the woman."

  "She felt the construction would have damaged the environment?"

  "So she said. But it's a balancing act, Inspector. If you saw the statistics for how the Sheringham Shoal project revitalised the local area, you'd see it was all worth it. The new harbour built at Wells to cope with the project rejuvenated the commercial shipping sector in the port. Not only that, but the firm ploughed money into the community, not just in jobs but in community projects. We're talking children's play areas, grants to local enterprise. Believe me, the list goes on and on."

  Tom inclined his head. Crowe was making a decent argument.

  "A couple of hundred years ago, Inspector," Crowe continued, "this region, after London, was the second richest in England. Agriculture and the textile industry brought people and trade from around the world to Norfolk. Then industrialisation came about, and the Mary Becketts of this world waved it away. It didn't affect us, we didn't need it. And what happened?"

  It was Elizabeth who answered.

  "The textile industry collapsed and Norfolk was left behind. That's what my husband thinks."

  Daniel enthusiastically agreed. "And we've been paying for it ever since. Have you ever wondered why there are no motorways in Norfolk? Left behind, Inspector Janssen."

  "A lot of people quite like it this way," Tom said, playing devil's advocate. For a moment he thought he saw Elizabeth nod as he spoke, but she remained impassive.

  "Each to his own," Crowe said. "But now, right now, we have the opportunity to be at the centre of the next wave of industrialisation by embracing green energy. It's the future and people like Mary, bless her, need to get on board for the greater good."

  "And the argument?" Tom asked, pulling the conversation back to their falling out.

  "Something and nothing really. Like I said, the woman was bonkers! She got more than enough time to make her points in the meeting. I disagreed."

  Elizabeth glanced sideways at her husband. Catching Tom's eye, she averted hers from his gaze, absently fiddling with her hands.

  "Okay, I think that will do for now," Tom said, standing up and indicating for Eric to do the same. "One last question." Daniel nodded. "Besides your interest in regenerating the area for the twenty-first century, what do you stand to gain from the wind farm's construction?"

  Crowe smiled. His wife looked at the floor.

  "It's no secret, Inspector. Two of the three proposed sites under consideration are on land that I…" he looked at his wife, "that we own. There will always be those who benefit from progress. There's a two in three chance that it will be us on this occasion."

  "Thank you, Mr Crowe. I appreciate your candour," Tom said. "Oh, and just for our records, could you tell us your movements for the night before last?"

  "Yes, of course," Crowe said without hesitation. "I played a round of golf with a couple of the chaps, had a drink at the nineteenth hole as usual and…" His brow furrowed as he thought hard. "Yes, then I came home and Elizabeth and I had rather a nice meal. I was home by seven, as I recall."

  "I see," Tom said, smiling his thanks. "And you didn't go out again that night?"

  "No, not at all. Did I dear?" He looked at his wife and she shook her head.

  "Great. Thanks for that," Tom said, looking at Eric who was making a note.

  "I'll see you out, Inspector," Elizabeth said, standing up and encouraging Tom to take the lead with an open hand.

  Daniel sat down as they left the room, crossing one leg over the other and drumming his fingers on his thigh. They reached the front door, Eric opening it and stepping out before Elizabeth placed a restraining hand on Tom's forearm. She glanced back the way they'd come, presumably to check her husband wouldn't overhear. She seemed nervous, agitated.

  "Is there something else, Mrs Crowe?" he asked.

  "My husband… is an opinionated man, Inspector."

  He smiled politely. He agreed but didn't say so. She looked behind them once more.

  "Mary and I… we were friends, Inspector. Good friends."

  Tom was intrigued. He never would have got that impression if she hadn't said so. She hadn't shown much of a reaction when discussing her up until now.

  "I shared her views on the switching station. Neither of us had an objection to the wind farm proposal itself. We both thought that was a step in the right direction." He got the impression this would come as unwelcome news to her husband. "There really is no need for Daniel to be so upset should the station go ahead somewhere else. Daniel did get a little worked up at the weekend after a meeting with the renewables company. They were fearing they might not get the go ahead this week from the planning inspectorate. But, as I said to Daniel, it's not like we need the money. Look around you. It's not as if we are wanting for anything. We have enough."

  Tom nodded, waiting to see if there was anything else forthcoming. It didn't appear so.

  "Okay, Mrs Crowe. Thank you. I'll bear it in mind."

  "Is my husband a suspect?" she asked.

  He thought he heard an edge of fear in her tone.

  "Why do you ask?"

  She shook her head. By the look on her face, she immediately regretted asking the question.

  "Because you're here, I suppose."

  The answer was unconvincing.

  "Just doing some background work, Mrs Crowe. Purely routine."

  She smiled weakly, nodded and allowed him to leave. The front door was closed before they reached the car.

  "What do you make of that?" Eric asked.

  Tom cast a glance around them, admiring the grounds. He could see a pool to the rear. The patio alongside had a wonderful view out to sea.

  "I don't know," he said. "There's one thing Elizabeth Crowe hasn't learnt in the course of her thirty-five-year marriage."

  "What's that?" Eric asked, opening the car door and glancing across the roof at him.

  "Men like Daniel Crowe," Tom said, inclining his head back towards the house, "they never have enough."

  Chapter Twenty

  Saffy appeared at the window as Tom pulled into the drive. It was a welcome familiarity. One he'd missed in recent days. He smiled and waved from behind the steering wheel. She waved back but clearly not quite with the same verve as usual. How he had taken for granted the simple pleasures derived from a little girl's welcoming smile. Once inside the house, both Saffy and her shadow, the dog, ran into the hall to greet him. He dropped to his haunches and she flung her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could, but her arms couldn't encompass his massive frame. Russell lifted his front paws onto Tom's knee and excitedly attempted to put his nose in between the two of them. Thankfully, he wasn't one to lick.

  Tom scratched behind the dog's ear, the terrier angling his head into the movement, his eyes fluttering. Standing up, he kept Saffy in his arms, much to her satisfaction, and headed to the back of the house. Alice was busying herself with tidying up from dinner. The dirty plates were ready to be loaded into the dishwas
her and the aromatic smell of spices hung in the air. He felt guilty.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't realise it was so late," he said, glancing at the clock. "I should have come home sooner."

  Alice glanced over her shoulder at him, rinsing a pan under the tap before strategically placing it in the machine. "No matter. There's a plate in the oven keeping warm."

  He smiled his thanks, carrying Saffy towards the space between the dining and living room. He swirled himself from left to right as she withdrew from him a little and he got to see her face. She was smiling. It was the first time he'd seen her do so for days.

  "Hey, have you lost another tooth?"

  He was almost sure the gap in the top row was wider. She shook her head, still smiling, and reached up to pinch one of her eye teeth between thumb and forefinger, demonstrating the movement with a wobble.

  "Not yet!" she grinned.

  Her adult teeth were pushing through, forcing out the smaller ones to the side.

  "Good. The tooth fairy will be going bankrupt at the rate you're losing them."

  "What's band crupt mean?"

  "Bankrupt. It means having no money and not being to pay your debts."

  Saffy's eyebrows knitted together and he realised he could be here for quite some time if he wasn't careful.

  "Now, where do you want me to put you so that I can eat my dinner?" He swung her to the right, tilting her towards the dining table. She leaned in closer as if fearful of falling but did so with a smile. "You can sit at the table with me." He swung her back the other way, facing the living room. "Or I can deposit you on the sofa!"

  "Sofa!"

  He obliged, bouncing through into the living room where he flipped her so she was horizontal in his arms, swung her from left to right, and on the count of three dropped her onto the sofa from waist height. She squealed in delight and, just for a moment, the burden of grief seemed to have lifted from her.

  "Right, young lady. I'm hungry."

  She beckoned him closer in a conspiratorial manner. He leaned over her and she cupped her hands to whisper into his ear.