Storm Force: A chilling Norfolk Broads crime thriller (British Detective Tanner Murder Mystery Series Book 7)

by David Blake

  ‘We’ll have to get one on the way,’ Vicky continued, plunging her arms into a coat of her own. ‘Claire Metcalf’s body’s just been found along a lane near where she lives. The man who’s thought to have killed her is being held for us on site.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  ARRIVING AT A cordoned-off bus stop at the edge of Salhouse village, Tanner stepped out of Vicky’s car to the sound of Police Do Not Cross tape flapping vigorously in a steadily stiffening breeze. Zipping his old sailing jacket up to the top of its broad high collar, he sent a glance spiralling up towards the brooding grey clouds above before leading Vicky over towards where a fluorescent-clad police constable could be seen standing to attention, just to the side of a narrow alleyway entrance.

  After offering the man the briefest of nods they made their way into the alley, down towards where a small group of forensic officers could be seen, their pristine white overalls flickering between gaps in the trees to their left. When he saw Dr Johnstone’s head emerge out onto the path ahead, he raised his voice above the sound of the wind. ‘What’ve we got?’

  ‘Thankfully, nothing like last time,’ the doctor replied, directing their eyes down towards a pair of pointed feet resting on the path’s uneven concrete edge. ‘At the moment, my best guess is that she was killed by a single blow to the back of the head. However, there is a possibility that she simply passed out, hitting her head on the concrete. You can see a patch of blood just there,’ he continued, directing their attention down towards the middle of the path.

  ‘So, it might have been purely by chance?’ questioned Tanner, removing his eyes from the blood to run them along the length of the woman’s stretched out body, her pale slender arms snagged above her head by a series of jagged low-hanging branches.

  ‘Well, it’s a possibility, but to be honest, I don’t think it’s very likely,’ Johnstone continued, following Tanner’s gaze. ‘Apart from the obvious fact that her body was moved shortly afterwards, most people who faint generally fall forwards, leaving them with facial injuries, and the force is rarely enough to kill them.’

  Tanner glanced down at the body’s heavily mascara-lined eyes staring unblinkingly up towards the tangle of branches above. ‘Are we sure of her identity: Claire Metcalf?’ he asked, tilting his head as he tried to determine if it was the same woman they’d spoken to the day before.

  ‘At the moment we are. What we’re presuming to be her handbag was found on the far side of the path. The credit cards inside all bear the same name.’

  ‘Had anything been stolen?’

  Johnstone shook his head. ‘There was a fair amount of cash in there as well.’

  ‘So, she wasn’t mugged then. How about rape?’

  ‘At this stage I’d say probably not. She’d had sexual intercourse recently, though, but there are no obvious signs of trauma. So unless I find some when I get her back to the lab, I’d have to say it was consensual.’

  Johnstone’s attention shifted from the body to look up at Tanner. ‘I assume you heard that someone was caught, dragging her into the trees?’

  ‘As we left the office,’ Tanner replied, turning to look back down the alleyway from where they’d come. ‘I don’t suppose you know if he’s still here?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t.’

  ‘OK, no problem.’

  A sudden gust of wind tore through the trees above, bringing a shower of leaves and twigs tumbling down through the branches.

  ‘I’d better get on,’ Johnstone commented, watching with concern as a small branch landed on top of the corpse. ‘Hardly ideal conditions to be conducting the forensic examination of a murder scene.’

  ‘I suppose you can’t put a tent up?’

  ‘Not with all these trees. Anyway,’ he continued, with an optimistic look, ‘it could be worse. It could be raining.’

  The moment he said it, a heavy drop of water smacked into the path beside them, missing the woman’s feet by inches.

  ‘That’ll teach me to open my mouth,’ he lamented, a sanguine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘Sorry folks, but it looks like I’m going to have to get back to work.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  WITH A RAPIDLY increasing number of raindrops smacking into the concrete path surrounding them, they turned to hurry back the way they’d come, Tanner reaching behind his head to lever out the fluorescent yellow hood kept hidden inside his sailing jacket’s collar, whilst Vicky rummaged around inside her bag for a collapsible umbrella.

  Reaching the end, Tanner stopped to face the constable they’d passed on the way in.

  ‘Is the person who was found with the body still here?’

  The constable nodded. ‘We assumed you’d want to speak to him.’

  ‘Good man,’ Tanner replied, his eyes darting about, briefly studying the faces of the various people he could see standing nearby. But with the only civilian being a frail old man taking shelter under a bus stop, his hands held behind a smart but ill-fitting suit, he turned back to the constable. ‘Sorry, I can’t see him.’

  ‘It’s the old man, under the bus stop,’ the constable continued, re-directing Tanner’s attention, ‘where Constable Dickens is standing.’

  Tanner gave the officer an incredulous look. ‘What, him?’

  ‘Er…that’s correct, sir.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘That’s what the guy said who caught him - in the act, so to speak. He said he was cycling down the lane when he saw him dragging the victim into the bushes.’

  ‘And where’s this so-called cyclist?’

  ‘We took his statement and said he could go. I hope that’s OK?’

  ‘I’d have preferred to have been able to talk to him as well,’ muttered Tanner in a disapproving tone, ‘but at least the suspect’s still here, I suppose. Has he said anything?’

  ‘Only that he didn’t kill her.’

  ‘Yes, well; I suppose he would. How about a name?’

  The officer tugged out a notebook. ‘A Mr William Appleyard; retired.’

  ‘If he’s retired, what’s he doing in a suit?’

  The officer gave him a guilty shrug. ‘I’m sorry, sir; we didn’t think to ask.’

  Rolling his eyes, Tanner nodded over to Vicky to begin hurrying their way over to the bus stop where the old man was now sitting, perched on the edge of one of its narrow plastic seats.

  ‘Mr Appleyard?’ Tanner queried, stepping under the bus shelter to pull out his ID.

  The man glanced up with a nod, paper-thin skin clinging to the sides of a long haggard face.

  ‘Detective Inspector Tanner, and my colleague, Detective Inspector Gilbert, Norfolk Police.’

  ‘I didn’t kill her!’ he suddenly declared, his eyes darting briefly between them.

  ‘But you were caught trying to hide the body.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I killed her though, does it!’

  ‘Not on its own, perhaps, but you’d have to admit that it was an unusual thing to have done, presuming that person was innocent, of course. I’d have thought most people finding themselves stumbling over a corpse would have the good sense to leave it well alone.’

  Appleyard returned his attention to what he’d been staring at before, the space between the pavement and the road, and a faltering trickle of water running gently between the two.

  ‘So…what were you doing?’ Tanner continued. ‘And please don’t tell me you were worried someone might trip over her.’

  His face remained unchanged.

  ‘OK, but you’d better know that if you’re not prepared to tell me, I’ll be left with no choice but to charge you with first degree murder.’

  Appleyard paused momentarily before opening his mouth. ‘We were on the same bus together. She sat next to me.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I thought she was nice.’

  ‘Nice in what way?’

  ‘She smiled at me,’ the man continued, his voice vacant and flat. ‘Not many people smile at
me anymore. I can’t even remember the last time a girl did.’

  ‘I assume you found her attractive?’

  Appleyard offered Tanner a solitary nod.

  ‘I can’t blame you for that, I suppose,’ Tanner continued. ‘So, you decided to follow her off the bus and down the lane where you attempted to have your disgusting way with her. But finding she wasn’t quite as consenting as you may have hoped, you hit her over the head before dragging her off to find somewhere a little more…private.’

  ‘I didn’t kill her!’ Appleyard repeated, tugging painfully at the handcuffs securing his hands behind his back.

  ‘OK…so you were attempting to rape her, only for her to end up slipping on the concrete to end up dead? Either way, you’re still looking at spending the rest of your life, at least what’s left of it, locked up inside a maximum security prison.’

  ‘I admit, I did follow her off the bus, but only because it was my stop as well. And I didn’t follow her down the lane. My house is at the end. I found her when I was about halfway down. At first I thought she’d simply fallen over, so I went to help. But when I got there, it was obvious she was dead.’

  ‘And…what happened then?’

  The suspect remained quiet and still, the only sign of life being the tears falling silently from his eyes.’

  ‘Mr Appleyard?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he eventually began, his voice nothing more than a faltering whisper. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. And it’s not as if she’d have minded.’

  ‘Minded what?’

  ‘It’s just – it’s just been such a long time – over twenty years since my wife passed away.’

  The suspect’s head rolled slowly forward as he openly began to cry.

  ‘And she was just so beautiful. I know I shouldn’t have. I was wrong to even think it. I tried not to, honestly I did. But I – I just couldn’t – I just couldn’t help myself.’

  Tanner saw Vicky gag involuntary beside him.

  Hearing her response, the suspect glared up at her, his sagging grey eyes now red with tears. ‘Don’t look at me like that!’ he spat. ‘You’ve no idea what it’s like to get old. I mean really old. You see yourself in the mirror, but the person staring back – it’s not you. It’s someone else. You spend year after year forced to watch your body decompose before your very eyes, but inside you remain the same. You still want the same things. You still have the same basic human needs. But they can never be satisfied because women think you’re disgusting. You can’t even look at them without being called a pervert.’

  He turned back to face the ground, rain drumming off the top of his polished office shoes.

  ‘Anyway, I didn’t, as I’m sure your forensics officers will clarify. That do-gooder on his decrepit old bike saw to that. Besides, it may be frowned on by society, but it’s hardly illegal.’

  ‘Assuming you’re talking about necrophilia, Mr Appleyard,’ Tanner began, ‘then I’m afraid it is. I’d have to look it up, but from what I remember, the carnal penetration of a corpse was criminalised under the Sexual Offences Act back in 2003.’

  ‘Then I suppose it’s a good job I didn’t then, isn’t it!’ the man responded, glaring up at the two detectives before his attention returned to the ground.

  ‘Going back to the bus, Mr Appleyard. Apart from the victim and yourself, did anyone else get off?’

  The man shook his head.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘It was just her and me. Nobody else.’

  ‘How about when you were walking down the lane?’

  ‘I didn’t see anyone. Only the girl – and that stuck-up twat on his crappy old bike.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  ‘IT’S NOT HIM,’ stated Tanner, leaving the bus shelter as they hurried back to Vicky’s car.

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s a law against attempted necrophilia?’

  ‘Remind me to look it up when we get back to the office, but even if there was, it would be challenging to prove. Not without a living witness. It would also be difficult to find an aggrieved party who was either willing, or indeed able to press charges, being that the victim would need to be dead for the offence to be relevant.’

  ‘Can’t we arrest him for something else?’

  ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘Well, he did move the body, and not exactly by accident.’

  ‘But not in an attempt to cover up a crime.’

  ‘Endeavouring to instigate one instead,’ Vicky muttered, barely loud enough for Tanner to hear.

  ‘To be honest, I think we have bigger fish to fry. Assuming he was telling the truth, that nobody else got off the bus, then we know she wasn’t being followed. That means someone must have known she’d be walking down the lane, and at what time she’d have done so.’

  ‘Unless it was just a random attack. Maybe someone tried to mug her? Or maybe it was an attempted rape that went wrong? She was certainly dressed provocatively enough.’

  ‘Being hit on the back of the head suggests she was attacked from behind,’ Tanner continued. ‘If she’d been mugged, or if someone had tried to rape her, I’d have thought the attack would have come from the front. Saying that, we don’t even know if she was attacked. As Johnstone said, it’s possible she may have simply fainted.’

  Stopping besides Vicky’s car, they turned to look back through the rain towards the alleyway’s entrance, just in time to see Johnstone emerging, the hood of his coat pulled up over his head.

  ‘Another problem we’re going to have is this bloody weather,’ Tanner continued, watching the doctor glance briefly up at him before hurrying over. ‘With the amount of rain we’ve had just in the last ten minutes, if there was someone waiting for her before launching their attack, it’s going to be virtually impossible to find any evidence, either at the scene or on the body.’

  They took a moment to watch in silence as Johnstone splashed his way through the rain.

  ‘I thought I’d missed you,’ he called out, looking over at them through rapidly steaming-up glasses. ‘We’ve found a couple of things we thought might be of interest.’

  Seeing him pull out his phone, Vicky did her best to angle her umbrella against the wind to help protect its screen from the now driving rain.

  ‘The first was a photograph we found hidden in the depths of her handbag,’ Johnstone continued, holding the phone out for them to see.

  Tanner and Vicky stared down at a picture of a young couple, one of whom Tanner knew to be the victim, cosying up to a good-looking young man with dark olive skin.

  ‘Any ideas?’ Tanner asked, catching Vicky’s eye.

  ‘I think it’s the guy who owns that strip club. Terrance McMillan.’

  ‘Then there was this,’ Johnstone added, swiping a finger over the rain-splattered screen. ‘It was found on the back of her hand.’

  Tanner screwed up his eyes to stare down at it. ‘Is it some sort of tattoo?’

  ‘It’s a stamp,’ stated Vicky. ‘The sort you get when you go to a nightclub. If that’s an R, then I’d say it was for the Riverside Gentleman’s Club.’