There might be another reason why the man had emptied his own pockets but it was difficult to come up with one. If he had been staying very close to the water, he might have taken a walk, leaving his keys in a car or a rented room, but how many of us go anywhere without a wallet or, these days, a mobile phone?
And then one of those lights came on, the sort that in Smith’s case, tells him to go back because he had made an assumption, and the only thing he hated more than an assumption was a coincidence. Why ‘a rented room’? Because, came the answer, I don’t think he’s local. I’m not entirely sure yet why I think that but I do.
There was one piece of intelligence to support the assumption. The man seemed to have been in the water between one and two days – tomorrow, Dr Robinson would hopefully have something more precise. But if the man had been missing even for twenty four hours, someone would have reported the fact if he was local – family, friends, employers will all do this. Checks had been made almost immediately at Hunston, Cromer and Kings Lake police stations – no-one fitting the description had been reported missing. So, unless this chap was a local loner or someone who habitually disappeared, he was probably a visitor. And the Norfolk coast in early September is never short of those.
Most likely a day-tripper, too. Hotels and guest-houses are quick to report the non-payment of bills and visitors who moonlight without settling up, even when it happens over a weekend as this probably did. Such reports might be in the system, of course, and it was a line of inquiry that he would suggest at the case meeting tomorrow morning.
But, he told himself, not writing now, just frowning at the notebook in front of him, going out further on this thinner and thinner branch, if he was a day-tripper, on his own – and in a very expensive suit, something else that was going to need consideration shortly – there would be a car somewhere. Trains could still be caught to Kings Lake from various destinations south, but from there one would need to get a bus. There were still such things in the summer months but it was hard to picture that man, that big man in his very expensive suit, riding along on the Coasthopper special to his date with destiny. A taxi? Worth checking that at some point but Smith’s conclusion for now was that there had to be a car involved, and cars are not usually difficult to find once you know which one you’re looking for. Identify the man, and his vehicle details are just a click away these days.
When his record of the day was completed, Smith returned the Alwych notebook to its place on the shelf. It was the last one of a long line, all placed there in chronological order. When this was finished, it too would have a neatly written label pasted onto its front cover, giving the dates on which it had begun and ended. Inside the front cover there would be a list of the investigations covered by that particular book so that they might be more easily located for future reference. ‘Barnham Staithe – body of unidentified male’ would probably be his last proper case.
When he went downstairs and out onto the patio, there was still warmth in the air, but the light was going. He sat in one of the chairs and looked up at the southern sky. There were gaps in the clouds and Jupiter was there, brilliant as a diamond fragment set on a cushion of blue velvet. ‘The nights are pulling in’, Sheila would have said to him if he had not said it to her first. And in the spring, one of them always said to the other ‘The nights are pulling out’… They had never talked about their retirement together – they had simply assumed it, and then, suddenly, it was too late.
The thought was as painful as ever, and Smith turned it away. Instead, deliberately, he recalled what Malcolm Partington had said earlier that evening, had said about Jo Evison – ‘That’s a shame. She seemed…’
Yes, he thought again, she is. He wondered whether the skies were clear over Germany, and whether Jupiter was shining down upon the streets of Munich. He wondered whether she had thought about him today, and then laughed sardonically at himself and muttered aloud, ‘At your age!’
Then he went inside to fetch a small glass of Edradour with a single ice-cube. He was in no hurry to go to bed despite the early meeting with the new detective inspector. He knew that he would not sleep particularly well tonight. The bodies of the dead did not trouble him at all in the waking hours – he knew that he was almost famous for it – but those same deceased had a habit of reappearing in his dreams. Sometimes they were young women on cold, naked sands, and sometimes they were young men in shadows, pointing their guns at him and laughing. Tonight it might well be a nameless man in an expensive suit who was having trouble standing up.
Smith raised his glass to Jupiter, to the living and the dead.
Chapter Seven
Yesterday there had been no formal introduction of Detective Inspector Terek to his teams; he had spent part of the day with HR, another part in a long meeting with Detective Superintendent Allen, where he no doubt received some specific instructions about how sergeants were to be managed, and then the body in Barnham Staithe had appeared on the scene.
Alison Reeve made the introductions at nine o’clock on the Tuesday morning, and all of Smith’s and Wilson’s people were present except for Serena Butler. Everyone knew where she was and what she was doing, of course, and no-one was envious that she had managed to miss this meeting, as a result. Reeve kept her own words brief and to the point, catching everyone’s eye as she spoke but paying no particular attention to the two sergeants, one of whom had applied for the detective inspector’s post and failed to get it, and the other who had since handed in his resignation.
Then the DCI left the briefing room, and Terek was in charge. He had his iPad in front of him, propped up slightly on a couple of files, and Smith guessed that much of last night had been spent by the detective inspector planning what to say to whom and how to say it. Smith’s own past promotions had come regularly, and he had not forgotten those first mornings in charge of new teams. Who will be the opinion-formers and how do you get them onside? Who wanted the promotion for themselves and is hoping that you will fail, preferably with their assistance? Who is struggling at the job and praying this will be a fresh start for them, or at least a means of hiding their inadequacy for a little while longer? Who are the cynical old hands who have seen it all before?
Well, the answer to the last one was pretty obvious on this occasion. Terek, of course, did have an unusual, a possibly unique question to answer; who in my new team have I almost arrested in the past? Yesterday’s silence on the matter had only reinforced Smith’s resolve not to be the first to mention it.
To his credit, Terek didn’t waste any time on the usual platitudes. He did not say ‘My door is always open’ – which, if true, actually means that too many people get to hear things they should not - or ‘People are our most important asset’ or ‘We’re going to work smarter, not harder’ or ‘Call me Simon’ or ‘There is no ‘I’ in team’. Smith was especially relieved not to hear that last one because in his view there are in fact many ‘i’s in teams – some of them are individuals, and are essential, and some of them are idiots, and inevitable.
But there was none of this. What Terek wanted, even though everyone already knew that there was a body, was a complete run-down on all the significant recent cases that they had worked. He wanted details, and plenty of them. They discussed at some length the investigation into the death of Mark Randall, the metal detectorist, and the charges that were to be brought against two priests from the Brothers of St Francis at Abbeyfields. Terek paused the discussion on occasion and noted details down, not hurrying, and it was peculiar enough even for Wilson to catch Smith’s eye and raise an eyebrow. Terek then moved matters on, going through the evidence already submitted to the DPP and the defence lawyers, and asking for so much detail that at times officers had to leave their seats, return to their own computers and retrieve the required information.
John Murray was sitting to Smith’s left, and Christopher Waters was to his right. Neither had been heavily involved in the Randall investigation, and Smith’s memory proved equal to
the task in hand, but he wondered what the point of it all was. Was Terek saying, this is me, I am Mr Meticulous, so you had better up your game?
After almost an hour of this, Terek proposed a short break – no more than five minutes to get tea or coffee and bring it back to the table – before they went on to examine the next case that was about to come to court. Two Albanian men, kidnapping, extortion, attempted murder of a police officer – the very one seated on Smith’s left – and how this all played into a wide-ranging, high profile drugs operation as well as the murder of a prisoner in Littlehill prison.
As they stepped away from the table, Murray said, ‘You might have to leave the room for this one. If he wants a full review, you could still be a possible suspect, DC.’
‘Fair enough, John, but that’s not my real concern this morning.’
‘What is?’
‘How far back are we going? Just in case he asks, remind me – what did we conclude about why Cain whacked his brother with a shovel?’
‘I don’t think we ever confirmed that it was definitely a shovel.’
‘He’s going to want to know why not, in that case.’
The walk to the canteen would take ninety seconds each way, leaving just two minutes to order and obtain the two mugs of tea. This would almost certainly not happen mid-morning; they would probably be late for the re-start. Waters had stayed in the briefing room, talking to Mike Dunn.
As they stood in the queue, Murray said, ‘I don’t mind just sitting there, DC. It’s a nice break. I’m catching up on some sleep.’
‘Still not going through the night?’
‘No. Maggie insists on getting up to him every time but I can’t sleep if she isn’t, so it’s all the same in the end. I looked it up, though, the godfather’s duties. You’re now supposed to look after him for a couple of nights. He’s on the bottle, so it won’t be a problem.’
Smith paid the lady for the drinks and bought three Rich Tea biscuits. They stood by an empty table, seriously tempted, and drank off enough of the tea so that it wouldn’t spill on the way back – all very uncivilised.
‘Sorry, John, but I intend to be a different sort of godfather.’
‘Which sort, then?’
‘Little David comes to see me when he’s eighteen. He’s got a business proposition and I make him an offer he can’t refuse.’
‘Eighteen? You’ll be seventy three!’
‘And still in my prime.’
Murray took one of the biscuits when it was offered, snapped it in two with the fingers of one huge hand and put the whole thing into his mouth. He chewed it slowly, looking at nothing in particular, and Smith knew that he was going to say something important.
‘And I’ll be fifty five myself then, and probably retired…’
‘Very good, John. You could always retrain as an accountant.’
‘Seriously, DC – you must have thought about it again lately. What with Alison moving onwards and upwards, and this new DI who’ll be wanting everyone to march to a different tune, just like they always do. Do you really need all that again?’
Murray was watching Smith closely now, and not many people knew him any better. It could not be that someone had said something because Smith hadn’t discussed it with someone – or, more correctly, anyone - but if John and Maggie had sat at home, talking the matter over between nappy changes, they would have reached the conclusion quickly enough; they were a formidable pair in more ways than one, and Smith missed the days when the odd couple of Kings Lake had been the best part of the best team in the building.
Telling them ought to be done during one of his god-fatherly visits, of course, but Murray had sensed something or seen something, and he was still watching Smith closely, and waiting for an answer.
The chairs at the table they were standing beside were still empty. Smith put down his mug of tea and said, ‘Bugger it, John. What’s all this back-in-five-minutes nonsense? If you ask me, it shows a lack of respect for tradition, and a lack of understanding of the English psyche. It might not be his fault, of course; with a surname like Terek, it could be genetic…’
Murray was not to be distracted.
‘DC? What’s going on?’
‘Sit down for a minute, John. Let’s have a word.’
‘Christ, DC. Are you serious?’
They sat down and faced each other across the red plastic table. Smith broke the remaining biscuit in half and offered a piece to Murray, who took it but didn’t eat it.
‘Yes, John. I think we’ve reached the point in our relationship where we need to be completely honest with each other. I’ll go first. It’s true.’
‘What is?’
‘That I’ve been seeing someone else.’
But Murray didn’t smile. He just sat there with half a biscuit in his hand and waited, so then Smith told him.
That’s how the five minutes had become more like fifteen, but some things are more important than making good first impressions on a new boss. In fact, thought Smith, quite a lot of things are more important than that. Murray hadn’t said or done very much other than to say a sincere ‘Good for you’, but he would process it in his slow methodical way, and there would be more questions to come. And Smith was certain that Maggie would know before the end of the day; she would receive a call or a text at lunchtime, and then Smith would have some explaining to do.
His phone pinged and he read the message. It was from Chris Waters, telling him that Serena was back in the room, ready to give the teams some initial information about the autopsy. They were waiting for Smith and Murray, and DI Terek wasn’t saying very much.
When they got back, Smith apologised cheerfully in front of everyone, telling Terek that the delay was all his fault, and then he turned to Serena and said, ‘That was quick. Is our mystery man all cut up?’
Apparently he was not, and wouldn’t be until late in the day, but she did have enough information already to get things moving – that’s why she had contacted DI Terek and asked whether he would like her to attend the briefing meeting now. After it, she said, she would return to the autopsy, if that was OK, and Smith thought that she was relishing it, looking forward to putting on the plastic suit and gloves again. The county force had recently set up a new murder squad, and Smith wondered whether that was an alternative for her, rather than waiting around here for a sergeant’s position.
Terek said, ‘Yes, I’d like you to go back, Serena. Well done. Tell us what we’ve got so far.’
Murray caught Smith’s eye – it was the first time Terek had used anyone’s Christian name – and Smith thought, that’s one of the things one must miss; the silly but somehow important intimacies that come only with time spent in the company of others that one trusts. But then Serena Butler was speaking, and he put such thoughts and speculations aside.
This, she said, is what we’ve got so far. Dr Robinson confirms that the cause of death was drowning. The lungs and stomach contained more than enough water to make this a certainty even before detailed analysis of the blood samples. Dr Robinson also believes that it is sea water rather than fresh, simply by the colour and smell. Tests will confirm this later in the week, but that was not the end of the story as far as the water was concerned.
Diatomic analysis can often locate or match a water sample precisely. This is less reliable in open bodies of water where there is regular mixing but there might be differences between the water on the open coast and that in the brackish estuary where the body was discovered. Therefore, it would be worth considering collecting samples from a variety of locations and comparing them with that found in the body. This might indicate where the man took on board most of the water that killed him.
Beneath the man’s fingernails were traces of a green substance which Olive Markham has already said are forms of algae. Again, these are often specific to particular habitats and might offer further clues as to where the man entered the water – the algae was unlikely to have got under the man’s nails after dea
th because some force would be required to put it there. He might have been climbing or holding onto some structure upon which the algae was growing.
Detective Inspector Terek was making notes on his iPad as Serena spoke, nodding sometimes, and also glancing around, perhaps looking for reactions amongst the other detectives. He would have seen only their full attention. After a week or two of paperwork and pretending to investigate drunks and the damage they can do, this was interesting, and it was clear that Serena Butler had more to say.
‘Bearing in mind that the body had been pulled from the water at 13.00 yesterday, Monday the 10th of September, it is Dr Robinson’s view – and nothing more than that until tests on the blood and gut contents are completed – that the man’s body has been in the water for approximately forty eight hours.’
Well done, Sam, thought Smith, and he looked at Terek then but there was no recognition of what the boatman had said. DC Butler continued then, pointing out that the body entering the water was not the same as the moment of death. Drowning, logically, means that he was alive when he entered the water, and he might have swum or held onto some form of support for hours before finally succumbing.
The thought was already present in Smith’s mind as Serena voiced it – it was unlikely that the man had been able to swim very far, however, because he also had two badly broken legs. She paused there, allowing for the surprise and one or two brief comments between the assembled detectives.
Terek said, ‘What can Dr Robinson tell us about the broken legs?’
‘OK. When the man’s clothes were removed, the damage to the legs was pretty obvious. Dr Robinson described it as “severe trauma”. He will take further X rays to determine the extent of the trauma but he says that the locations of the breaks are consistent with a single heavy impact from the man’s left side. The victim was probably struck by a fast-moving or very heavy vehicle whilst he was in an upright position.’
Time and Tide Page 6
