by David Blake
Looking at Tanner, Barrington asked, ‘Were you at least able to show the other items of jewellery to the missing girl’s husband?’
‘We’ve just come back from there now, sir,’ replied Tanner.
‘And…?’
‘Mr Richardson, the husband, said that both the earring and the necklace could have belonged to his wife, but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure. He did think that they were the sort of thing she would wear, it’s just that he didn’t recognise either of them as definitely belonging to her.’
‘How soon until we get the results from the post mortem?’ Barrington asked Burgess.
‘I was told first thing in the morning, sir, as long as nothing unexpected crops up.’
‘Well, let’s hope not!’
Turning his attention back to Tanner, Barrington asked, ‘Any news on Mr Lambert’s daughter?’
‘You mean, assuming she’s not the girl we just pulled out of the river?’
Burgess couldn’t help himself, and blurted out, ‘We’ve already established that she wasn’t, or at least that she wasn’t likely to be!’
‘Well, yes,’ began Tanner. ‘And if it wasn’t for the fact that they’re both married women, of a similar age, with similar hair colouring, and the dead girl’s time of death coincides almost exactly with the time the missing girl was last seen, then I’d have to agree with you.’
Acutely aware that Tanner was being sarcastic, Burgess said, ‘But you just said that the husband wasn’t even able to recognise his wife’s own jewellery!’
‘I actually said that he wasn’t sure if it was hers. But as he’d already admitted to not having had a particularly close relationship with her, it didn’t surprise me that he wasn’t.’
‘And the photograph of the missing girl,’ added Burgess, looking straight at Barrington. ‘She didn’t look anything like the woman we found!’
Shrugging his shoulders, Tanner replied, ‘After floating upside down in a river for two days and being sucked into a propeller, to be honest, I’d have been surprised if they had looked the same!’
Burgess didn’t seem to have an answer to that one, so Tanner went on, ‘Then of course there’s the place we found the earring, under the railway bridge.’
‘Which DI Tanner should mention did not match the one the dead girl was wearing!’
‘No,’ agreed Tanner, ‘but as I said before, we did find what I still believe to be blood close to it, and as it’s along the route the missing girl is thought to have taken on her way back from work, the time of which coincides with the time the dead girl is thought to have died, then I think there is a very strong possibility that the two are one and the same.’
Glaring at him, in an accusatory tone Burgess said, ‘There’s something DI Tanner has neglected to mention, sir.’
With his elbows on the desk, and his hands steepled together, Barrington asked, ‘And what’s that?’
‘That the girl’s body was found in the River Thurne, up from where it meets the Bure, where he’s suggesting his missing girl went in. And that would mean she’d have had to have floated upriver, which I believe would be a scientific first.’
It was time for Tanner to play his trump card. After waiting for just a fraction of a second, he looked over at Burgess and said, ‘But I thought the Broads were tidal?’
As Burgess exchanged an anxious glance between Tanner and Barrington, all he could say in response was, ‘Well, yes, but…’
Seeing the Ordnance Survey map of the Broads which Barrington had mounted to the wall behind him, Tanner stood up from his chair, stepped over to it and said, ‘Assuming they are tidal, if a body went into the river on Saturday night, here,’ and he pointed at the railway bridge that went over the River Bure, just outside Wroxham, and traced the river all the way east, to where it was joined by the River Thurne, ‘if it was here when the tide started to come in, then it could have easily been carried up to where it was found.’
Whilst Burgess fumed with indignation at having been made to look like a complete idiot by some London DI who hadn’t even finished his first day working for Norfolk Police, Barrington meanwhile couldn’t help but be impressed.
Seeing the scowl Burgess was giving Tanner, unable to suppress an amused smile Barrington said, ‘You seem to have come to grips with the Broads rather quickly, Tanner.’
Feeling a twinge of guilt for having been so successful in making Burgess out to be both incompetent and stupid, Tanner said, ‘I can’t take the credit. It was DC Evans who suggested it.’
‘Well, I’ve always said that it’s all about local knowledge. And you can’t get much more local than Jenny, isn’t that right, Burgess!’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Burgess, and in an effort to hide his embarrassed indignation, forced a thin smile for his boss.
‘OK,’ continued Barrington. ‘But all that means at this stage is that there’s a slightly increased chance the dead girl is John Lambert’s daughter. Even if that is the case, there’s still not enough evidence to suggest anything other than she had one drink too many after work and tripped over a mooring line on the way home. And as I’ve no intention of launching a full-scale murder inquiry until I know otherwise, we’re just going to have to sit tight and wait for that post mortem report to come in.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WITH THE MEETING over, avoiding eye contact with Burgess, Tanner headed out to make a beeline to where Jenny was sitting.
Seeing him approach, she smiled at him and asked, ‘How’d it go?’
‘They’re still holding out hope that the girl’s body isn’t that of John Lambert’s daughter.’
‘Did you tell them about the tides, and how that could have carried her upriver?’
Sitting on the corner of the desk, he glanced casually around the room to make sure nobody could overhear, before leaning in to say, ‘I did, yes, and thank you for that. But as far as Barrington is concerned, all that means is that there’s a slightly increased chance that she is Jane Richardson, and if that’s the case, then she’s most likely to have simply tripped over on her way home from work.’
‘What about the mark on her forehead, and the ones around her neck?’
‘Burgess told him what the medical examiner had said about how she could have hit her head on either a cleat or a boat stanchion before becoming entangled in a mooring line, and Barrington seems happy enough to go along with that.’
‘Well, it’s possible, I suppose.’
‘The alternative is that she was deliberately hit with something like a hammer, strangled, and then dumped in the water, and I’m not sure Barrington is quite ready to accept that as being a more likely alternative; at least not yet, he isn’t.’
‘So, what happens now?’
‘He said that we’re going to have to wait until the post mortem report comes back before we do anything else. But personally, between now and then, I think we should do a little digging of our own.’
With a suspicious frown, Jenny asked, ‘What did you have in mind?’
After glancing around the office again, in a low conspiratorial voice, Tanner asked, ‘Would it be possible for you to get those three items of jewellery over to forensics, to see if they come up with anything?’
Reaching down to retrieve her handbag, she said, ‘Our forensics department is in our Head Office in Norwich, so it will take a while.’
‘Can’t you get them biked over?’
‘I can,’ she said. ‘But shouldn’t we ask Burgess before we do that?’
‘Probably,’ replied Tanner, before reaching into his inside jacket pocket to pull out another evidence bag which he discreetly passed over. ‘And could you send this to them as well?’
Staring down at it, Jenny asked, ‘What is it?’
‘It’s the sample of what we thought was blood that I took from under the railway bridge. If it is, and if it matches the dead girl’s, then we’ll have a pretty good idea as to who she is.’
As Jenny took the bag off hi
m to place together with the other items, Tanner looked down at his watch and said, ‘Then I suggest we begin to request access to our missing girl’s personal accounts, including her financial records.’
‘Without asking either Burgess or Barrington?’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve a sneaking suspicion they’ll be thanking us, probably about thirty seconds after that post mortem report comes in.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
AFTER JENNY HAD quietly arranged for a police motorcycle courier to take the four evidence bags over to Norfolk Constabulary’s Head Office in Norwich, they spent half an hour moving her desk over next to Tanner’s, whilst waiting for Barrington to leave, which he did just before six.
Ten minutes later he was followed by Burgess, along with a number of others, which left only a handful of uniformed constables to cover the night shift.
With the missing girl’s details that Richardson had given them when they’d first been to his house, only then did they begin the tedious task of contacting various organisations to gain access to her phone, email and social media accounts.
By half past seven they’d been allowed into everything apart from her financial records. For those they’d have to contact the local magistrate to put forward a formal request, and they’d definitely need DCI Barrington’s authorisation before doing that. But with her mobile phone details, access to both her personal and work email accounts, Facebook, Instagram and web browsing history going back six months, they had more than enough to be getting on with; too much for them to cope with on their own.
With the feeling that they were a little more prepared for what they thought would happen when the post mortem report arrived, they decided to call it a day.
Stepping out into the carpark at the front of the building, they were met by a magnificent sunset, one that spanned the entire Norfolk horizon before them.
‘That’s quite something!’ exclaimed Tanner, whose view of the sky was normally obscured by sprawling housing developments and over-sized concrete tower blocks.
After nothing more than a cursory glance, Jenny said, ‘I’d say that’s about average; but there is something I wouldn’t mind seeing, though.’
As Tanner continued to take in the full panorama of the setting sun, somewhat absently he asked, ‘What’s that?’
‘Your boat!’
Until then, Tanner had almost forgotten that he had a boat to go home to, and not a house or a flat like most normal people.
‘Ah that! Yes, well, I should have told you that it’s not mine. I’m just looking after it for a friend.’
‘I’d still like to see it,’ insisted Jenny. ‘Whereabouts is it moored?’
‘Er…’ began Tanner, trying to remember the name of the place. ‘It’s Ramworth Broad, I think.’
‘I suspect you mean Ranworth Broad,’ corrected Jenny, ‘although there aren’t any moorings there. It’s the home of the Broads Wildlife Centre. You probably mean the one opposite; Malthouse Broad, with the cute little post office and the Maltsters pub behind.’
‘So you don’t know it then?’
Enjoying his off-beat, bone dry sense of humour, which reminded her a lot of her dad’s, she said, ‘Why don’t you show me?’
Glancing down at his watch, he said, ‘It’s getting late. It will probably be dark by the time we get there.’
‘Tell you what, how about you follow me there? That way you’re less likely to get lost. And if your car breaks down, or runs out of petrol, both of which seem highly likely, given what you’re driving, then I’d be able to call the AA for you. And all I’d ask in return is that you buy me dinner at the Maltsters pub.’
Jenny was about as audacious as she was attractive, and Tanner was finding it very difficult not to like her, more than perhaps he thought he should, given that she must be a good fifteen years younger than him.
Attempting to keep that firmly in mind, with a warm smile he said, ‘OK, you’re on! But if your car breaks down or runs out of petrol before mine does, then you’re the one who’s buying the dinner!’
‘Fair enough,’ said Jenny. ‘But that’s not going to happen. I’m in the VW Golf, and I only filled it up yesterday.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ARRIVING AT MALTHOUSE Broad, Tanner gave Jenny the grand tour of his new floating home by the light of his phone’s torch. As he did so, she attempted to explain to him some of the basic principles of how he’d be able to sail it, were he to ever have a go.
The conversation continued over dinner at the Maltsters pub, during which Jenny resorted to using a pen and a napkin in an effort to explain how a boat was able to tack upwind. Although Tanner got the idea that it involved a lot of zig-zagging, the principles behind how a sail worked with the keel to drive the boat forward were completely lost on him. Eventually Jenny was forced to give up, giving Tanner the chance to steer the conversation over to her.
They spent the next hour or so chatting about what life was like being brought up on the Broads; how her father had taught her to sail, and how he’d driven her around the country to compete in various national events, first in an Optimist dinghy, then in a Topper. She’d kept sailing competitively until she’d completed her A-Levels, after which university beckoned and she’d moved down to Southampton.
‘What did you study down there?’ asked Tanner, who’d been listening with genuine, if not jealous interest. His childhood had consisted of nothing more than riding his bike around and playing Asteroids on his Atari.
‘Environmental Science.’
‘And yet now you’re a Detective Constable for Norfolk Police,’ he observed with a wry smile.
‘Yes, well, to be honest I found the subject insanely boring, and I thought that if I was bored after studying it for four years, I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel if I took it up as a profession. And besides, I couldn’t find a job, nothing that offered a sensible salary at any rate.’
‘So how did you find your way into the police?’
‘I don’t know really. I’d always seen them around, patrolling the waterways. I suppose I thought that if that’s all they do – drive a boat up and down the Broads – then it was the perfect job for me! I went along to one of their open evenings, and I suppose I let them talk me into it.’
‘And then you decided to join CID, and become a detective?’
Jenny shrugged. ‘I’d been working as a PC for nearly five years by then. It’s all right during the summer, when all the tourists are here, but there really isn’t all that much to do during the winter months, and I was getting bored. So I applied for the twelve week TDC course, which I enjoyed, and here I am!’
‘How long ago was that?’ asked Tanner, who by then had already worked out that if she was twenty-two after four years at university and had spent five years working as a PC, she must be either twenty-seven or twenty-eight.
‘I finished in November of last year, so I’m still finding my feet, although, to be honest, there hasn’t been all that much going on since then, not until today, that is.’
As she took a sip from her coffee, she realised that she’d spent virtually the entire evening talking about herself. Concerned that Tanner would think she was inexcusably selfish for having done so, along with being quite possibly the most boring person he’d ever had to have dinner with, she turned the spotlight back on him. ‘How about you. Why did you join?’
‘I’m not sure I had much choice. My father was in the Force, and I suppose it was just expected of me. I can’t imagine what else I’d have done.’
‘Do you enjoy it?’ she asked, watching him over the top of her coffee cup.
‘At first I did,’ he replied, ‘but it does tend to wear you down after a while, especially in London. I think it was when my father passed away that it dawned on me that I’d probably only signed up because he’d wanted me to, not necessarily because I did. That was about ten years ago, but by then it was too late for a career change, or at least I felt it was. My wife wasn’t working at the time
, so I was the sole earner.’
‘You’re married?’ she asked, as casually as she thought possible, and stole another glance at his left hand, which was still devoid of any kind of a wedding ring.
‘Divorced,’ Tanner said. ‘We’d been struggling for a long time, but it was when…it was when our…’
He hesitated, and then stopped to stare down at the coffee cup he cradled in his hands. He wanted to tell her about his daughter, or more specifically about what had happened to her, but now that the time had come, it felt too soon. Far too soon. He’d only known Jenny for a day, and even though it had been an unusually long one, a day was still a day, and it was hardly enough of an acquaintance to open up your soul to anyone. But despite that, here they were, chatting over dinner, like two old friends who’d not seen each other for years and were busy catching up.
‘It was when something happened that, well, it changed things, and was ultimately what made me put in for a transfer.’
His reluctance was obvious, and Jenny didn’t want to pry. At that stage, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know. Although they were clearly getting along, she felt there were definite limits to how much someone should know about another person’s life quite so early on in a relationship. She was also afraid that whatever it was that he’d nearly told her could be something that would detract from how she was beginning to feel towards him. With those thoughts weaving their way through her mind, she decided to steer the conversation away from whatever it was that had such a troubling impact on his life. Hopefully there’d be other opportunities for him to tell her, but preferably when they knew each other a little better.
‘And now you’re here, what do you think?’
Grateful for having been led away from the subject, he said, ‘Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to be involved with a dead body, not on my first day at least!’