She hadn’t wanted to fight. Abbie had come home in a foul mood and had been determined to squabble about anything and everything until the row found a well-worn groove, and Sam had almost been tempted to tune out. Why did she have to live on a fucking boat? In the summer, Abbie had loved the open hatches and the regular swell of the water as other narrowboats passed by leaving cheery waves and hellos in their wake. But this was her first winter on the canal and she was starting to loathe it. Sam knew that the confined space wasn’t for everyone. That having to empty the chemical toilet on a frosty morning was a chore, and that hearing the groan of ice around the hull as the canal froze could be eerie, but she had been convinced that Abbie would love the romance and cosiness of it after the first few cold weeks.
Sam had been so wrong. Now it looked like she was going to have to make a choice. Give up the narrowboat that had been her home since her grandfather had left it to her in his will, or give up Abbie.
She jogged on, trying to focus on her breathing and the steady crunch of gravel under her trainers. She didn’t use her MP3 player when she ran. She’d have enjoyed the rhythm of music chosen to suit her mood or her pace but, as a detective with South Yorkshire Police, she knew the perils of not being aware of your surroundings, especially in lonely places in poor light. She always ran with her phone in her hand – just in case.
The white-topped lock gates were up ahead and Sam slowed down, about to head home for a shower. She normally ran right up to the second gate before turning back but, this morning, she was tempted to stop short and go back. It might allow her a few more minutes to try to smooth things over with Abbie.
‘Fuck it,’ Sam murmured and picked up her pace, trying to outrun her frustration.
The lock was full; the bottom gate closed allowing the water to build up against it. In the half-light it was like obsidian, its smooth surface broken by an unexpected shape. Sam slowed down and walked to the edge of the lock, trying to work out if it was a trick of the light or if somebody had thrown something into the water.
It looked like a black bin bag, bobbing gently, half-submerged but, as her eyes adjusted to the gloomy darkness of the enclosed water, she could make out more detail. The surface of the object was ribbed or rippled and it appeared to have a lot of air trapped inside. There was something floating next to it. A pale shape against the dark water.
‘Shit,’ Sam hissed as she recognised a hand. It wasn’t a bin bag, it was a down jacket. And it was still being worn.
Two seconds later, she was giving her location to the emergency services.
‘So you found the body?’ Detective Inspector Kate Fletcher asked her colleague. Sam nodded, trying to control the shivering that wracked her limbs.
‘I saw her floating there and called it in.’
‘And you just happened to be passing?’ Kate heard the slight scepticism in her tone, the one she used for anybody who had just found a body; understanding with an underlying hint of suspicion. But this was one of her team. She took a breath and tried again.
‘What were you doing down here, Sam? It must have been barely light.’
Sam wrapped her arms more tightly round her upper body. She looked tired and shaken. Her short blonde hair stuck up around her temples like she’d been running her hands through it, and her blue eyes skittered around as she spoke. Kate was used to her being quiet and calm and in control but the slim, hoodie-clad figure in front of her looked more like a junkie in need of a fix than a valued colleague.
‘I was running. I run most mornings,’ Sam said.
‘Here?’
‘I’ve got a boat in the Ings Marina. It’s where I live. I like to run the towpath because it’s level. Not much of a challenge.’
She gave a self-deprecating grin and, in the familiar expression, Kate recognised the DC that she knew. Her colleague wasn’t under suspicion and Kate needed to stop treating her as though she was. She was cold and probably in shock.
‘Get yourself over to the ambulance.’ Kate pointed to the waiting vehicle, parked behind a hedge on the closest access road to the canal towpath. ‘They’ll have blankets. Get warm. I’ll send Hollis on a coffee run while we wait for the dive team to finish. Plenty of sugar?’
Sam smiled gratefully and followed Kate’s instructions.
A shout from the lock caught Kate’s attention before she could follow through on her promise of hot drinks, and she looked across to the huge black-and-white gates. The divers had finished and were ready to remove the body from the water. She watched as they gently guided the covered body tray to the canal’s edge where an overall-clad team was waiting to haul it up into the tent that they had erected across the path – a Viking funeral in reverse. Behind the tent, Kate could see blue-and-white tape preventing access from the south, just beyond the point where a footpath intersected with the towpath. Similar tape prevented her from accessing the lock unless she donned appropriate clothing and showed her ID. Kate estimated that nearly a quarter of a mile of towpath was cordoned off – they weren’t sure yet whether this was a crime scene but she knew that the SOCOs would make certain that, if it were, they kept it as secure as possible.
DC Hollis came shuffling towards her in his SOCO suit and shoe covers. He looked frozen. His slender frame and long limbs made him look like the world’s biggest toddler in a badly fitting romper suit.
‘Anything?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘Body’s female. Fully dressed. No obvious sign of injury. The divers are having a quick break and then they’ll get back in to search the lock. Kailisa’s here and he’s not happy.’
Kate smiled. The pathologist was renowned for his attention to detail and his empathy with the victim, but his people skills were sometimes a bit lacking. She knew that he’d do a thorough job despite the conditions, but also that he’d resent any unnecessary interruption from her or her team.
‘Do you want to get warmed up?’ she asked Hollis. ‘There’s supposed to be a support van around somewhere with hot drinks. Sam could use one. She’s at the ambulance.’
‘She okay?’ Hollis asked, struggling to unzip his overalls and pull his suit-clad arms free. ‘Can’t be much fun finding something like this before breakfast.’
‘She’s doing fine,’ Kate said. ‘Did you know she lived down here? On a boat?’
Hollis shrugged. ‘I think she mentioned it. She’s not one for sharing details of her life, though. I’ll go and get that drink.’
Kate watched as he finally removed his overalls, deposited his shoe covers in a waiting bin for later examination and ducked under the tape. She’d wanted to be the one closest to the action, to see the body lifted from the water but she’d also wanted a chance to talk to Cooper. Unable to be in two places at once, Kate had allowed Hollis to assess the scene, to be her eyes and ears. He needed the experience and, after the events of the summer, she had learned to trust him completely. Since her return to South Yorkshire from Cumbria just over a year earlier, she’d managed to build up a reliable team around her, and Hollis was a key part of that. He was a steadying influence on the others, good in a crisis and an empathetic and skilled interviewer.
A figure jogged towards her along the canal bank.
‘We’ve found something that you might like to see, inspector.’ The crime scene tech bent over to catch his breath as he waited for Kate to suit up and follow him across to the lock. The large black-and-white gates were both closed, the long wooden beams that they were attached to jutting out almost as far as the towpath. Beside these swing beams were mooring points, chunky mushrooms of metal, also painted black and white. She’d noticed that there had been some scrutiny of the area near the top lock gate, and glanced down to see what was so significant. Plastic markers surrounded a set of scuff marks in the gravel, frozen in place by the hard frost of the previous night. There was a long scrape, right down to the hard earth surface of the path, and a patch where the gravel was piled up near the edge of the lock.
‘What am I lookin
g at?’ she asked.
The man bent down and pointed a gloved finger at the longer groove.
‘Looks like somebody might have been pushed. There are indications that more than one person stood here and the patterns and disturbances in the gravel may suggest a struggle.’
‘May? Is that the best we’ve got?’
The man shrugged. ‘It’s enough to put a question mark above any suggestion that it was an accident. But it’s not much. Doctor Kailisa’s with the body if you want to speak to him.’
Kate walked along the path to the tent, safe in the knowledge that she’d been invited. Inside, Kailisa and his team were taking photographs and measurements. The woman’s body was still on the buoyancy tray and still clothed. Icy water dripped from the down jacket forming a puddle on the plastic sheeting beneath her. Her hair was long and dark and obscured much of her face but Kate could just make out a smudge of bright lipstick and a carefully tended eyebrow. Her legs were clad in tight leggings and she wore one ankle-high leather boot. The other foot was encased in a soggy pink sock reminding Kate of a sausage on a cheap fry-up.
‘DI Fletcher,’ Kailisa said without looking up at her. ‘I suppose you want to know manner and time of death.’
‘I know better than that, doctor,’ Kate responded with a grin that he couldn’t see. She’d worked with the pathologist from the Doncaster Royal Infirmary before and knew that he wouldn’t commit to anything until he’d performed a thorough examination and that he was above speculation. ‘I was just wondering if there was anything that could be seen even by a lay-person.’
He shook his head.
‘There may be a head injury, the back of her skull feels like it might be fractured, but until I get a proper look I know nothing. We haven’t even found any identification.’
Great, Kate thought. An unidentified body and an unknown cause of death. ‘I assume that my team will be kept informed.’
Kailisa turned to look at her, his dark brown eyes serious. ‘If this is anything more than an accident you will be the first to know.’
Kate removed her protective clothing, ducked under the tape barrier and went to check on Cooper and Hollis. They were huddled together on the back step of the ambulance, hands wrapped around cardboard cups of steaming drinks.
‘You okay?’ Kate asked Cooper.
The DC smiled weakly and took a long pull on her coffee. Kate looked at Hollis for confirmation and he shrugged slightly.
‘Would you mind getting me a coffee?’ she asked him. ‘It’s bloody freezing on that canal bank.’ His eyebrows dipped into a frown of annoyance until he clearly realised that she wanted a chance to talk to Sam on her own. He leapt up tugging a forelock and headed in the direction of the support van.
‘Must’ve been a shock to–’ she began but Cooper cut her off.
‘It’s not my first body, you know,’ she snapped. ‘Just wrong place, wrong time.’
‘I know,’ said Kate. ‘But it’s still not what you expect to find on your early morning run. So close to your home, as well. I had no idea you lived on the water. Must be peaceful.’
Sam gave her a wry smile which seemed to suggest that Kate had no idea what her life there was really like. ‘Do they know who she was?’ Sam asked, changing the subject before her boss could ask anything else about her personal life.
‘Not yet. I might have to ask you to have a look. It could be somebody you recognise from the local area. Perhaps another boat owner. Kailisa needs to do a full PM so maybe he’ll find some ID in one of her pockets.’
‘Unlikely,’ Sam said. ‘Most women carry stuff like that in a handbag rather than in their pockets.’
‘The divers are still looking in the lock. They might find something.’
Cooper shook her head. ‘My guess is a mugging. That’s why there’s no bag. Some scroat tried to get it off her, and when she clung on, he swung her into the water.’
Kate thought about the scuffmarks at the edge of the lock. Had there been a struggle? The scenario made perfect sense. How often had she done safety training where women were told to let go of their bags and give up their belongings rather than risk their lives? But how many really listened when faced with losing their valuables?
Just as Kate was about to commend Cooper on her insight, her phone rang. She responded with a questioning hello even though her display clearly showed her that it was Raymond, her DCI, ringing. Force of habit.
‘Fletcher. You still down by the canal?’
‘Yep. Just about to finish up. Not sure that this is one for us, but Cooper has an interesting theory. She–’
‘Get yourself back here,’ he interrupted. ‘I’ve got one that definitely is for us. Woman called an ambulance this morning to attend to the death of her father. Once the body was removed she confessed to his murder. She’s in Interview Three and she’s asking for you.’
Chapter 2
Raymond was waiting in his office when Kate got back to Doncaster Central, and he didn’t look happy. His complexion, usually flushed, looked like he’d been standing too close to a fire and his huge hands flapped irritably at his side like the flippers of a particularly dangerous prehistoric creature.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ he asked as soon as Kate entered the room. She took an involuntary step back as if the spray of his spit might be an acid attack.
‘The canal. Just outside the town centre. Sam Cooper found a body this morning.’
‘I know that! I meant since I rang you. I’ve been waiting.’
Kate looked at her watch. She had spent another few minutes with Sam, then checked on Hollis, filling him in on her conversation with Raymond before finally grabbing one of the SOCOs and asking him to email her the photographs of the disturbed gravel. She wasn’t entirely convinced by Cooper’s theory but the evidence could support it. She’d asked to be informed immediately if the woman’s bag turned up, or her missing boot, and she’d left Hollis at the scene in case any form of ID was found.
‘I…’
Raymond pointed at a chair and sat down at the desk that dominated the small room. His bulk reduced the space even further and Kate couldn’t help but wonder if he’d chosen the desk deliberately to intimidate anybody that he invited into his office.
‘Look, put that on hold for now. I’m sure your team can deal with it. I need you to talk to the woman who was brought in an hour ago. She’s admitted killing her father but that’s all she’ll say until she sees you.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Caroline Lambert.’
It didn’t ring a bell. ‘And why does she want to talk to me?’
Raymond shook his head.
‘She won’t say. She called the doctor this morning. The duty GP turned up and couldn’t certify cause of death as he wasn’t the father’s regular doctor so he rang the police and the duty undertaker. The undertakers got the body to the DRI morgue where the case has been referred to the coroner. Then the daughter confessed to killing him.’
‘How?’
‘How what?’
‘How did she kill him? Why was the body removed? Surely the scene should have been sealed off and the pathologist called?’
Raymond shook his head. ‘It wasn’t necessarily a suspicious death. Poor bloke had been ill with liver cancer for a few months. His daughter said he’d died in the night, the doctor checked the medical records and confirmed the illness. The father had been seen by a GP in the last few days so the doctor allowed the body to be removed. Anyway, the daughter confessed once the body was en route to the DRI. I’d assume a PM will be organised in light of what the daughter has said.’
‘So why confess?’ Kate asked.
‘My guess is that she was worried that there might be a PM and she wanted to pre-empt it in case something obvious showed up. Overdose possibly, or suffocation.’
‘Has she asked for a solicitor?’
‘Nope. The only person she’s asked for is you.’ He stared at her accusingly as though he thoug
ht she was keeping something from him.
It made no sense. Why would somebody she’d never met turn themselves in for murder and refuse to speak to anybody else?
Only one way to find out.
A uniformed officer was standing outside Interview Three as Kate approached carrying two cups of coffee and a packet of chocolate digestives which she’d managed to stuff under one arm for safe keeping. A thin file containing the arresting officer’s report was under her other arm. The PC smiled at her awkward approach and opened the door to allow her to pass before following her inside.
Caroline Lambert was sitting at the table, both feet on the floor and both hands resting on the grubby table-top. Her eyes flicked up as Kate sat down opposite her but her face showed no emotion. Kate studied her, assessing her age, height and general demeanour more from habit than necessity. Caroline Lambert looked like she was in her late thirties or early forties, her blonde hair showed no sign of grey and her make-up was subtly but expertly applied – obviously a woman who cared about her appearance. The police-issue grey tracksuit contrasted with her perfectly shaped and polished nails and her straight-backed posture. Her pale blue eyes flicked from Kate’s face to the coffee and back again but she still didn’t speak.
‘Thought you might like a drink,’ Kate said, pushing one of the cups across the table. ‘I brought milk and sugar.’ She dug in her pockets for the sugar sachets and milk containers and placed the biscuits next to her cup. Still no response. Kate sugared her coffee and watched as Caroline slipped the lid off her own and took a sip. She grimaced slightly and put it back on the table.
‘It’s not really what the canteen’s known for,’ Kate joked. ‘The Michelin star’s more for the food than the beverages.’
A faint smile.
‘Caroline, you do understand what’s happening here?’ Kate said, trying to work out if the woman opposite was fully aware of her surroundings. She looked like she could be in shock; her lack of emotion was unsettling and she didn’t seem aware of her situation at all.
The Kate Fletcher Series Page 24
