Collide-O-Scope (Norfolk Coast Investigation Stories Book 1)

by Andrea Bramhall

  “That shit’s not mine.” She put the cigarette between her lips and snatched at the lighter, scraping the dial and flicking the flint, trying to get a flame to appear with hands that shook far too much to be effective.

  “Of course it isn’t,” Kate said, knowing full well they were both lying. She took the lighter from Leah’s hand and quickly stroked it to life. “But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have a lot of explaining to do if I took you down to the police station, now does it?”

  Leah stared at her, then shook her head as Kate’s point seemed to sink in.

  Kate held the flame close enough for her to light her cigarette. “So tell me where you were at seven this morning.”

  Leah looked around her. “Here.” She pointed to the sofa. “I was asleep till you woke me up.”

  “Alone?”

  Leah nodded. “Well, probably Ally’s upstairs, unless the boat’s gone out.”

  “Boat?”

  “Yeah. Ally works on one of the fishing boats out of the harbour.”

  “Which one?”

  “The Jean Rayner.”

  Kate tossed the lighter back onto the coffee table and strode across the room to the spiral staircase against the back wall. She quickly ran up and poked her head into the single room. It was clearly empty but she crossed to the bathroom just to be sure.

  “What time does the boat go out?”

  Leah shrugged. “I don’t know. They have to make the most of the tide, so I think they usually go out as soon as the water comes into the harbour. About two hours before the high tide. If they’re running a short day then they’re out no more than four hours. On a long day they won’t come back in until the tide’s almost out. About a sixteen-hour day.”

  “I’m guessing they do long days in summer and this time of year they’re on shorts. Right?”

  “I don’t know.” She pulled in a long drag. “Probably.”

  “So if high tide was at seven, the boats should be back in by now.”

  Leah glanced at the clock on the DVD player under the TV. Almost five. “Yeah. Should be.”

  “And you’ve been asleep all day?”

  Leah shrugged and blew out a smoke ring. “I’ve not been sleeping well at night.” She flicked her ash onto the table, not even trying for the ashtray. “I’ve been going through a tough time.”

  Kate pointed to the empty cans that littered the floor. “Do the sleeping aids not help much, then?”

  Leah snorted. “No. Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”

  “Right now, Leah, it is.”

  “I didn’t kill her.” Her eyes flicked from Kate to Jimmy, seemingly pleading with each of them in turn. “I didn’t.”

  It was Kate’s turn to shrug. “You’ve got no alibi, you’ve got a turbulent recent past with the victim, and you’ve been heard threatening her. Convince me.”

  “I still loved her.”

  “More people kill out of a misguided sense of love than hate.” As much as it sounded like an oxymoron, it was true. Jealousy, possession, and fear of losing loved ones drove more people to kill than hatred did. Domestic violence, jilted lovers, crimes of passion were all far more commonplace than premeditated acts of violence. It was the disturbing truth Kate had had to face years ago.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t do it. She was a bitch, she was doing everything she could to ruin my life, but I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t.” Leah stubbed her cigarette out on the foil wrapper and ran a hand through her hair again. Her fingers still shook but she seemed much more stable now. More awake. “I loved her. I still love her.”

  Something niggled at Kate but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “Do you have any idea what she might have been doing on the marshes at that time in a morning?”

  Leah wiped her face with the back of her hand and shrugged, but Kate thought she saw something. A shadow of…concern, fear perhaps…flickered across Leah’s face. But then it was gone. “Walking the dog probably. Maybe taking pictures.”

  What was that about? She glanced at Jimmy, his frown told her that he, too, had caught the look on Leah’s face. “Did you worry about her walking out there so early?”

  “What? God no. She’s always done that. Taking her bloody pictures.”

  “Then what?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I asked what she could have been doing out there, you looked scared. Why?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m upset. You just told me the woman I love is dead. I’m upset. I’m in shock.”

  No, you’re not. “Right.” Kate looked around her again. “Merlin was with Connie at the scene. They’re collecting evidence from her and then she’ll be released. Do you want to collect her or should I have someone bring her here for you?”

  Leah shook her head. “Can’t have a pet here. Ally doesn’t like ’em.”

  “Okay.” Kate could have predicted this outcome, but it didn’t stop her heart aching at the callousness and indifference she saw. Still loved Connie? My arse. If you did you’d hold onto that dog like it was the last part of her left on this earth.

  “Besides, she was Connie’s dog, not mine. She never even liked me.”

  I wonder why? “So do you want her to be put in a shelter?”

  Leah nodded. Not looking up from the grubby looking carpet. “Yeah. That’s probably for the best.”

  “Fine.” Like hell. “I may need to speak to you again.”

  “What for?”

  “Background information about Connie. So you have to inform me if you’re planning to go anywhere.” Kate handed her a card. “Will you continue to stay here?”

  Leah tossed the card on to the table and nodded. “I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

  Kate left her with her head in her hands, elbows braced on her sweatshirt-covered knees. The sobs started as Kate pulled the door closed behind her. Kate couldn’t be sure if Leah was her killer or not, but she was damn sure she didn’t like the junkie she’d just met. She wondered if she’d always been a user or if this was the change that had caused the breakdown in the relationship. She hadn’t bothered to ask Leah, as there was no way she’d get an honest answer. She needed to get those answers from someone else first. Maybe Gina. But if she knew that, why hadn’t she mentioned it earlier? She turned right out of the gate as Jimmy pulled it closed behind him, then they turned right again and followed the dirt path down to the harbour. The flat-bottomed boats sat on the mud, the water long gone and yet to return. The Jean Rayner sat next to the dock, her light-blue hull showing signs of age as the rust ran down one side. The paint was chipped and flaking away, and the wind rattled the chain links and steel cables against the mast and wheelhouse. She looked tired, old, and shabby.“So what did you make of that?”

  Jimmy snorted. “I’ll eat your jacket if she’s the killer.”

  “Watch it.”

  He laughed. “No way would she be able to shoot anyone.” He held his hand out in front of him and shook it wildly, grossly imitating Leah’s tremor. “No way.”

  “Accident?”

  “In what scenario do you have a junkie, her ex, and a gun out on the marshes at the crack of dawn and a gun accidentally blowing off said ex’s face?”

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  “No, they bloody haven’t.” He laughed again. “Seriously, I think she was right where she said she was. Passed out on that stinking sofa.”

  “Probably right.”

  The scent of salt, mud, and diesel hung in the air, making Kate feel slightly green as she wandered past the surprisingly small vessels. Lobster pots were stacked on the dock—ten, twelve high in places—and a conveyor belt ran to a bagging machine on the far side of the dock. Mussels were sorted, tossed, and bagged in quick order as practiced eyes watched, and experienced hands worked tirelessly to prepare the catch for sale. The harbour had the look of old and new smashed together with l
ittle regard for the aesthetic appeal of either. Like a city of two halves. Old ramshackle huts with rotten boards and rusted corrugated steel roofs had been patched with new materials, the difference in colour and amount of rust being the main indicators to the work that needed to be done, had been done, and still needed completing. Everything done as quickly and cheaply as possible. A proper, working harbour.

  Everyone wore waterproof overalls, wellies, and big heavy coats. Hats obscured faces just as well as the bulky clothes obscured bodies and Kate knew she’d never spot Ally if she were among this crowd. She walked over to the first person she saw.

  “I’m looking for Ally.”

  A wizened, elderly man looked up from the lobster pot he was mending, his agile hands continuing with the intricate knots he was tying, even as he looked her up and down. He didn’t stop but nodded towards one of the shacks at the far end with his head. “Second from the end. She’s in there.”

  “Thank you.” Kate smiled and turned away as a shrill whistle pierced the air, gaining everyone’s attention.

  “Ally? Lady here to see ya.” The old man’s voice was strong and carried across the din of machinery, clanging steel, and the wind as it tore ashore. She nodded her thanks to him and watched as a figure approached from the direction he had indicated.

  “Yeah. Who wants me?” The woman was grinning, she was easily in her mid-forties with salt-and-pepper hair sticking out from under her beanie hat. Brightly coloured waterproofs covered what Kate assumed were many layers of warm, bulky clothes, including a pair of full length waders with straps over her shoulders. She was tall, heading for six feet, and broad in the shoulders. More than that, though, the bulk of material made it impossible to tell. She was grinning, but Kate could see that the amusement didn’t meet her eyes as she wiped her hands on a rag that looked just as dirty as the meaty hand she held out to Kate.

  “Detective Sergeant Kate Brannon. Detective Constable Powers,” she said, gesturing at Jimmy.

  Ally froze for a split second before grasping Kate’s hand and pumping it. “Ally Robbins.” She let go and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m investigating the death of a woman on the Coastal Path this morning. Can you tell me what time you were out on the boat, please?”

  “Death? Who’s dead?”

  “Please, can you answer the question?”

  Ally frowned. “Well, high tide was seven so we left just after five. I was here about an hour before that with the lads getting the pots on the boat.”

  “And what time did you get back in?”

  “About nine, maybe five past. I can get the log book if you like.”

  “That would be great, thank you.” Kate wasn’t sure what made her want to see it. Maybe just plain curiosity because she’d never seen a ship’s log book before, but she agreed before she over thought the impulse. Ally headed towards the boat, and Kate suddenly realised how quiet the harbour had become. Only the wind and the clattering of steel cables against steel masts disturbed the awkward silence that filled the air. She wondered if she’d grown a second head for a moment but knew instead how insular communities like this could be. Anyone unknown was an outsider, and when people worked difficult jobs like these people did, they grew closer than family. They had to rely on each other in the worst of conditions, when their lives were on the line. And here she was questioning one of their own. She was grateful when Ally returned holding out a heavy ledger.

  “That’s today’s entry.” She pointed.

  “Do you mind if I take a picture of it?”

  Ally frowned but nodded her head.

  Kate quickly positioned her phone and shot a few pictures to make sure she’d have at least one where you could read the various numbers, shorthand codes, and seemingly nonsensical squiggles. “Are you the ship’s captain?”

  “No. My dad is. Cedric Robbins.” She pointed behind Kate to the old man she’d spoken to earlier.

  “Ah, right. And do you all work on the same boat?”

  “No. Dad captains, and me and my brother, Adam, work our boat. The rest of these guys work the other boats in the harbour.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the eight or nine guys behind her.

  “Was it a good catch today?”

  Ally smiled, and Kate was struck by the fact that this one seemed genuine. “We met all our targets today.” The guy she’d pointed to as her brother, Adam, sniggered as she said this.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. We had targets to make today, quotas to reach, and we met them. So, yes, I guess that means you could say it was a good day on the water.”

  “I understand Leah is staying with you?”

  Ally frowned and nodded again. “Yeah, ever since her bitch ex threw her out.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Four, maybe five months now.”

  “That’s a long time for someone to crash on your couch.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s got nowhere else to go.”

  “So, she does sleep on your couch?”

  Ally’s eyebrow’s rose. “Where else would she sleep?”

  “With you, perhaps.”

  “What? Oh, hell no. No offence to her, but I’m not a muff diver. She’s a mate. Crashing on the couch. End of story.”

  “And what’s your policy on pets?”

  “Hate the fuckers. Allergic.”

  “I stopped by your house before I came here. Lovely place.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I met Leah.”

  “You mean she was awake?” Adam spoke almost too quietly for Kate to hear, but the look Ally shot his way told Kate that she hadn’t missed it either.

  “She’s going through a rough time.”

  “I’m sure. You might want to be careful about what your house guests get up to in your home. You could get yourself into a lot of trouble on their behalf.”

  The look of dark anger that skittered across Ally’s features told her that she knew exactly what Kate was talking about. Then it vanished and was replaced by a look of mock innocence. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Detective.”

  “Thanks.” Kate handed her a card. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “You didn’t say who was dead.”

  “Thanks for your time, Ms. Robbins.”

  Kate and Jimmy walked away and the hushed conversation at her back was too low to hear. The fact that it started as soon as they turned their backs, the look that had swept across Leah’s face, the anger that had darkened Ally’s…it all told her one thing. There was more going on in this sleepy little fishing village than she had thought.

  CHAPTER 6

  Gina half filled her glass with delicious looking red wine. She held the bottle up to the light and inspected what was left before pouring the remainder into her glass. There were barely two millimetres to spare.

  “Waste not, want not.” She slurped noisily at the liquid, determined not to spill a drop, though the task was becoming increasingly difficult. She put the now empty bottle on the floor beside the sofa and leaned back. She held the glass up to the picture on her mantle. It was one of Connie and Sammy playing with a kite on the beach. She’d taken it last summer, and it was one of the few times last year she could remember Connie being truly happy. They’d had a picnic and ventured down to one of the creeks where the seals had a small colony. They’d watched them lazing on the sandbank in the middle of the creek, watching everyone who was watching them. It had been a blissful day.

  She couldn’t believe Connie was gone. She really couldn’t. And she couldn’t believe how…who…she swallowed a hearty gulp, determined to forget. Usually, a full bottle of Rioja made her forget her own name, but apparently not tonight. Tonight it made the scene that much clearer so that she could now actually picture her nine-year-old daughter pointing the gun at her best friend and “blowing her away.” She shook her head to dispel the image and succeeded only in dispell
ing wine from her glass to her hand. She cursed as she sucked the drops from her skin.

  “What the fuck am I going to do?”

  Sammy had seen Connie’s body and knew she was responsible for it. She’d seen her dead, face blown off, and she’d no doubt see that image in her head for the rest of her life. Gina could barely imagine the horror. How it must feel to know that she’d done that. How the hell do I help her come to terms with that?

  She took another large mouthful.

  If it weren’t for that fucking Matt, Connie would still be alive. How could he be so stupid, so irresponsible, so reckless? How could he put Sammy in danger like that? Did he not even think? “I could fucking kill him. I really could.”

  She didn’t understand how his brain worked. Scratch that, it clearly didn’t. And now she had to protect him to protect Sammy. “I will not lose my daughter because you’re a fucking dickhead.”

  Gina polished off the last mouthful in her glass. She knew she was going to regret this in the morning, but right now she didn’t care. All she’d wanted was to turn off her head. Epic fail. Momentous fail. Now her whole world was spinning out of control, and the whole world was spinning too. She hated that feeling. As though any moment she was going to fly off into space never to be seen or heard from again. On second thought, she kinda liked that idea.

  A soft knock at the door startled her. The sudden jolt causing her to drop the wine glass that she still held in her hand. “Shit.” She quickly pulled open the door and waved her guest inside without looking. “I just broke a glass, come in while I grab a dust pan and brush.”

  She ran to the kitchen and returned in time to find Kate bent over picking up the now broken glass.

  “Christ, what an arse.”

  “Excuse me?” Kate looked over her shoulder before straightening up.