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Table of Contents
Other Books in the Norfolk Coast Investigation Story
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Prologue
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
Epilogue
About Andrea Bramhall
Other Books from Ylva Publishing
Driving Me Mad
Blurred Lines
The Red Files
Conflict of Interest
Coming from Ylva Publishing
Welcome to the Wallops
Under Parr
Other Books in the
Norfolk Coast Investigation Story
Collide-O-Scope
Under Parr
(Book #2; Coming Spring 2017)
Acknowledgements
To everyone at Ylva Publishing, Astrid, Daniela, and Gill in particular, thank you. For showing me the doorway to new opportunities and fresh challenges. And then taking the chance with me when I decided to jump. Your patience, guidance, and faith in me are so very much appreciated. I do so hope that I can do you all justice.
R.G. Emanuelle, for your editing skills and guidance, thank you. And I swear, I’m working on those pesky, bloody apostrophes.
Now, while all the characters and most of the places in this story are fictional, I do live on the North Norfolk Coast, and my partner and I do have a campsite there. I’ve been told I have to tell you all that she has never considered murdering me and leaving my body on the marshes. And that the entirety of this story is a figment of my imagination. (Darling, will you let go of my arm now please? It’s not meant to go so far up my back!) So, a great big thank you to Norfolk, for all the inspiration, the wonderful years we’ve spent living and working there, and to all the great people we’ve met there.
Dedication
Louise, you said that without Deepdale we wouldn’t be where we are today. I think that we’d have found our way here eventually, no matter what. Some things are just meant to be.
Prologue
A chill wind blew across the barren-looking marsh. Connie tugged her collar up around her ears and pulled the zipper closed. She blew on her hands to try and warm them before tucking them under her armpits and stomping her feet to get the blood flowing. The late October chill made promises of a harsh winter, with snow, roaring fires, and mulled wine—promises that Connie hoped Mother Nature would keep.
She eyed the horizon, smiling as the first hints of pink muscled their way into the expansive indigo sky. The clink clink of steel ropes clattering against the masts reached her from the harbour less than a mile from where she stood. A sound too soft to be heard in the light of day, where the hustle and bustle of the tiny fishing harbour clamouring with tourists, sailors, and walkers, swallowed the tiny sounds of the night. Green and red lights flickered in the harbour. Fishing boats hauling their wares drifted on the current of the North Sea, as the wind died to nothing and the stars blinked out of sight. The eternal battle between night and day lost for another cycle, they no longer cast their ethereal sparkle across the glistening water filling the creeks that surrounded her as the tide continued its journey inland.
As the water continued to rise, it spilled over the banks of each shallow creek and swallowed huge swathes of samphire and heather-covered land. The flood plain known as The Saltings was already underwater as the highest spring tide of the year continued to rise. Connie was glad there was no wind. The last time they’d had a tide such as this, combined with a strong wind, it had led to half of the homes in the village being flooded.
A gentle nudge against her boot reminded her of her companion. She looked down at the dirty stick that had been deposited for her. The hopeful look on her beloved dog’s face made her smile as she reached for the object of Merlin’s desire. Her blue eyes were alert, and her dappled grey body was all set to dive into action and chase it wherever she threw it.
“Are you ready, girl? Are ya?” She prepared herself and flung the stick like a boomerang, laughing as Merlin bounded after it as fast as her legs would take her. Her body was soon hidden by the long grasses and bramble bushes that lined the Coastal Path. Connie chuckled, sighed out a long breath that fogged as it left her lips, and turned back towards the sea. The darkness was starting to give way to the daylight and she lifted her camera, quickly checking the aperture and shutter settings before clicking off a few shots. She reviewed them on the LCD screen as Merlin deposited her stick by her boot again.
Another distracted toss and she zoomed in as tight as the lens of her Nikon D5300 would let her. Eighteen millimetres to 300 millimetres gave her the best options for her two greatest photography passions, landscape and wildlife. Today she wasn’t trying to shoot either. Today she was trying to capture images of an entirely different animal plaguing the North Norfolk salt marshes. She ground her teeth and focused the lens tight on the lobster pots being hauled out of the North Sea. She clicked and reviewed the image. Too dark. She checked her settings, the aperture was already wide open, she’d just have to wait for the sun to rise a little more.
She rounded the steep steps that led down the embankment to the overflow and glanced out towards the hectares of arable fields covered in pink-footed geese feeding on the recently ploughed sod. A loud bang caused her to flinch and look around for Merlin as a flock of geese hundreds strong took to the air. Merlin cowered at her feet and watched the birds with suspicion as they squawked indignantly and flapped and made their way to quieter feeding grounds. Every field in the vicinity had them. Bird scarers. Noisy machines that sounded like a shotgun and were far more reliable than the scarecrows of old. After a while you stopped hearing them. They faded into the background of bird song, rustling leaves, cars, and people.
Connie shook her head at her canine’s cowardice and bent to collect her stick. She threw it in the hope of distracting her from the scary birds and walked a little farther down the path as Merlin took off after her prize. She moved beyond the long shadows of the houseboat that bobbed in the foreground of many of her pictures. Merlin ran ahead, branch clenched between her teeth. She stopped a short way away and looked back to make sure Connie was still following and hadn’t stopped again.
“I’m coming, Merlin. Good girl.”
An egret flew across the marsh heading for Scolt Head Island, just the far side of the creeks and the other side of the raised sea defences she walked along. Normally, it was a shot she’d love to get—the long-legged and white-bodied bird she had once mistaken for a heron in her early days as a photographer. She chuckled t
o herself again. A twitcher she was not, but she’d learned a lot over the past six years. A lot about the wildlife, the geography, the politics of small village life, and more and more about the locals themselves.
“More than I ever wanted to know.” She lifted the camera to her eye again and refocused. The light was much better and the shots showed the detail she needed them to show. “Think you can threaten me?” She zoomed out a little. “Well, we’ll just have to see who’s bluffing, won’t we?”
Merlin dropped the stick at her foot again. She looked down from the viewfinder and kicked the stick into the shrubs. The rustle was the only sound she could hear, not a breath of wind ruffled the rising surface of the sea. Every boat and cloud was reflected perfectly in the still water. She set herself again for another shot and her camera exploded in her hand.
CHAPTER 1
Kate Brannon zipped her black leather jacket closed, climbed out of her car, and made her way down mud track. Rain splotted through the tree canopy and quickly became a heavy shower as she emerged from the trees and glanced out at the grey sky and sodden-looking marshland in front of her. She flashed her warrant card at the young PCSO, Police Community Support Officer, standing at the perimeter of the cordoned-off area. He lifted the tape to duck under while he held a dog lead attached to a visibly distraught animal.
“The duty officer and the DI are up there.” He waved down the muddy path.
She pointed to the dog. “What’s going on?”
“Dog was with the body, ma’am. The crime scene guys say they need to examine it for evidence, ‘cos it was all over the body when they got here.”
She gazed at the poor animal. It was whimpering and barking, trying desperately to break free, seemingly intent on returning to the crime scene. Kate wanted to bend down and stroke it, try to soothe it a little, but that wasn’t a good idea. Not until the evidence on its coat was recovered. “Who called it in?”
“Couple walking the path, ma’am. They didn’t go near. Said the dog wouldn’t let ’em.”
“Has it been vicious?” She frowned at the dog. It’s pleading blue eyes moved quickly from her face to the lead in her officer’s hand and back to its owner.
“No, not at all. Just didn’t want to let anyone near the victim.”
“Does she have a name?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been up there—”
“I meant the dog.”
“Oh, right, sorry. Collar says ‘Merlin,’ but she’s a girl.”
Kate chuckled. “Right. Better call ahead and get a vet on standby. There’s no way they’ll be able to examine her while she’s awake. Poor thing.”
“Right-o, ma’am.”
She patted him on the arm then glanced up and saw the white tent being hastily erected farther down the path. One thing less to worry about―losing any more evidence to the rain. She nodded to him and made her way through the mud. She wrinkled her nose against the wind, salty with a tang of iron in it.
She approached the uniformed man obviously directing the whole affair as he issued orders, his arm waving and people scurrying around at his behest.
“Sir,” she said as she approached. “Detective Sergeant Brannon.”
“Inspector Savage.” He held out his hand for her to shake, his grip firm. “Thanks for getting here so soon. On your own?”
“I was at home when my CO called. I only live in Docking,” she said, referring to the village just six miles inland from their current location. “My partner will catch up.”
“Jolly good. You new?”
“Moved to Kings Lynn from Norwich about three weeks ago.”
“Promoted at the same time?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.” A loud voice from down the embankment caused them both to turn and watch as a young police community support officer—PCSO for short—stood still, eyes fixed on the ground as a ruddy-cheeked man offered him some sound advice. Loud enough for everyone to hear.
“This is a crime scene, you bleeding imbecile. You do not, I repeat, do not come wandering over for a look without taking precautions. Do you hear me, boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And why do you not come wandering over to take a little look at the scene without taking precautions?”
“So that I don’t contaminate the scene.”
“Or destroy evidence.”
“Or destroy evidence, sir.”
Kate could see the spittle flying from the corners of his mouth as he continued to dress down the young man.
“The five building blocks of an investigation, lad. Tell me?”
“Sir?”
“The five building blocks. Come on. You went through the training. Tell me.”
“Sir, I’m not sure—”
“I’ll give you a hint. Number one. Preserve life.” He pointed to the tent that was almost fully erect now. “Can we do her any good?”
“No, sir.”
“Right. So what’s next?”
“Preserve the scene, sir?” His voice was timid. Asking a question rather than answering.
“Halle-fucking-lujah. Then what do we do?”
“Secure evidence.” The young man responded with more confidence. “Identify the victim and then identify the suspects.”
“Brain of Britain you are, mate. Brain of Britain.” He tapped the guy on the cheek. “So where in that little list does it tell you to walk through my crime scene with no overshoes, no coveralls, and touching any bloody thing you like on the way?”
“Nowhere, sir.”
“Exactly.” He leaned back. “Now get the fuck out of my sight, off my crime scene, and hope like fucking hell I don’t take this to your CO and enjoy watching you issue parking tickets for the rest of your natural. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.” The young man clambered up the steep embankment and headed away from the scene, almost as though he were heading out to sea, but Kate knew what lay in that direction. It was a path she’d walked several times over the last three weeks. There was a turn-off to a small village a half mile or so farther on. She figured he’d been assigned to prevent walkers heading towards the crime scene. The ruddy-cheeked man watched him go, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.
“Your CO? Detective Inspector Timmons, right?” Savage asked, turning to Kate.
“That’s right.” Kate wondered if he’d take offence at Timmons dressing down his officer. He must have caught the look on her face because he just shrugged.
“Saved me having to read him the riot act and actually assign him to parking tickets for the rest of his natural.” He smiled and winked at her. “Is he going to be SIO on this one?”
“He will. Have you not spoken to him yet?” Kate thought it unusual for the Senior Investigating Officer to have not introduced himself to his uniformed counterpart.
“Not yet. It’s been bedlam so far, as I’m sure you can imagine. Not sure when he arrived to be fair.”
“Can you put us up for the duration?” She offered him what she hoped was a winning smile, and judging by the softening around the eyes, it worked. “We can run the investigation from here, then, rather than too-ing and fro-ing to Kings Lynn all the time. Stands to reason that the suspects will most likely be in the local area. Doesn’t make sense to base almost thirty miles away.”
“Fair point.” He nodded. “How many of you?”
“Say five of us, if you can lend us a hand with the witness interviews. Timmons, me, and another sergeant, plus a couple of DCs.”
“Sure.” He snorted a sardonic laugh. “Not like we don’t have anything better to do.” He sighed and pointed to the trees where she’d come from. “Well, I’ve cordoned off the Coastal Path for five hundred yards in either direction. I’ve got a PCSO on each entry of the pathway to stop anyone coming down until we’re done here. If they can manage to stay put, mind.” He pointed to the tent just as Timmons looked up the embankment, clearly spotted her, and beckoned for her to join him. She indicated she was on her way with a q
uick wave of her hand and nodded back to the inspector beside her.
“You coming down?”
He shook his head. “I’ve seen it already. We’ve got an unidentified female with a single gunshot wound to the face.”
“No ID on her?”
“No. Nothing on her but a phone and a set of keys. The dogs tag said ‘If found, please call my mum, Connie.’”
“Well, that’s a start.”
“Yeah. I’ve got the crime scene boys in there now looking for anything, but I’ve got to say there’s a lot of contamination from the dog, and probably just as much lost from the rain.”
Kate looked up and nodded. She’d seen the amount of blood covering the dog. She wondered if the forensics team would actually be able to get anything useful at all. They stood in the middle of nowhere, not a CCTV camera in sight. Welcome to rural policing, Brannon. “Mind if I take a look?”
“Nope. I’m getting some bodies here to help the coroner get the body up the embankment. Tell Timmons I’ll have the kettle on when he gets to the station. Hope you’ve not eaten yet.”
She didn’t answer him. There was no need to. Instead, she made her way down the steep embankment and pulled a pair of white overshoes out of her pocket and slipped them on. The Coastal Path sat atop a flood defence barrier. On the sea side the embankment rose up almost five feet, on the back side it dropped down a good six or seven. The water channels cut along the boundaries of the fields, a system of irrigation that had been utilised for a couple of hundred years. Along the steep side, brambles were well established, and the route down to the marquee was somewhat treacherous.
She pushed her hair off her face, noting it was about time she got it cut, and took a deep breath. She prayed she wouldn’t land on her arse and make a fool of herself as she made her way down. Or even worse, destroy vital evidence as she did so.
Timmons waited for her. “Lovely day for it.”
The drizzle was getting harder, or maybe she was just saturated now. Either way, it was bloody lousy. “Is that what you’re calling it, sir?”
He chuckled. “Did he fill you in?”
She followed his gaze towards Inspector Savage as he spoke to an officer she didn’t know. “Yes. Unidentified female, deceased, gunshot wound. Suspicious.”
Collide-O-Scope (Norfolk Coast Investigation Stories Book 1) Page 1
