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

by Andrea Bramhall

  Kate cocked her head to one side. “What happened?”

  Gina waved her hand dismissively. “It was ages ago. Christmas last year. He’d bought Sammy a pellet gun as her present and when he turned up that night, pissed, I wanted him to leave. Sammy was already asleep and Connie was in the house with me. We were having a little drink and chatting. She’d been on her own for Christmas so I invited her around.”

  “No Leah?”

  “No. She was out with them.”

  “Ah.” Kate waited for her to continue, then prompted Gina. “So what happened?”

  “Matt was his usual self when he’s had a few. A bastard. Said he wanted to see Sammy, his kid, and all that. I told him to come back in the morning when he was sober, she was awake, and they could have breakfast together. Apparently, that wasn’t good enough for him. He grabbed my arms and tried to pull me out of the doorway.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  Gina shook her head. “Connie shot a pellet from Sammy’s little pellet gun over his head. The noise made him back off. She told him to do what I’d said and bugger off.”

  “What did Matt do?”

  “He said he wasn’t, and I quote, scared of no rug muncher, and that that little pellet gun couldn’t hurt a person and that Connie should stop trying to corrupt decent folk and leave me alone.” Gina chuckled. “So Connie aimed it at his crotch. Seems he wasn’t quite so sure it wouldn’t hurt at that point.”

  “So she humiliated him?”

  “I don’t think he even remembered. He never turned up the next day and he never made any mention of it again.”

  “Did he think there was something going on between you and Connie?”

  Gina shrugged. “If he did he never asked.”

  “But he thought she was trying to corrupt you?”

  “Look, he was pissed and she scared him. He was just mouthing off to cover up the fact that he’d pissed himself.” She chuckled. “He really was that far gone that he wouldn’t have remembered his own name let alone Connie showing him up.”

  “Has Matt always been a gun enthusiast?”

  “Well, I suppose so. His dad bought him his first gun when he was about Sammy’s age. That’s why he thought it was an appropriate thing to do.”

  “Does he spend much time practicing?”

  “I’ve no idea. I don’t tend to know what he’s doing on a day-to-day basis.”

  “What about while you were in a relationship with him?” Kate asked.

  “There wasn’t much of a relationship. We dated for a few months, as soon as he got what he wanted he stopped calling. Three months later I found out I was pregnant with Sammy. She’s the only reason we have contact now.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kate said.

  “I’m not. I was seventeen and stupid, but I wouldn’t be without Sammy for the world. Matt, however, I could live without.”

  Kate nodded and finished her drink, placing the mug back on the table. “Thank you. If you think of anything else, you’ve got my number.”

  “I do,” Gina said and watched them both. She followed them to the door. Len exited first.

  Kate turned back to her as Len pulled open the gate. “I’m still sorry he treated you the way he did, and if he turns up here and hurts you ever again, please call me.”

  Gina narrowed her eyes against the bright sunlight and looked at Kate. There was an aura to her, a strength that radiated out of her just as bright as the sun glinting off her copper hair. Her green eyes were so earnest and open that she wished she could stare into them all day.

  “I’m fine.”

  The right-hand corner of Kate’s mouth lifted in a flirtatious little twist. “Oh, I know you are, but that doesn’t change the offer.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Please?”

  Gina nodded, and then Kate turned and followed Len out of the gate with a slight limp.

  * * *

  “I’m taking you home. Timmons made me promise,” Wild said.

  “Fine.” Kate crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll need the courtesy car anyway.”

  “Bloody hell.” Wild checked his watch. “You know it’s almost five, don’t you?”

  “And?” She lowered herself gingerly into the seat. “The case demands, Len. I am but a puppet on its string.”

  “Oh for God’s sake.”

  “Take me home, Jeeves.”

  “What the hell are those bloody pills they gave you?” he asked, then pulled away from the kerb.

  CHAPTER 18

  Tom was holding the door open for her when Kate got back to the station. The funny bugger was wearing a snorkel and mask.

  “Everyone’s a comedian.”

  “Well, Sarge, what can I say? A man’s got to have a hobby.”

  As soon as she walked inside, she was welcomed by a rousing chorus of “Hot Legs” by Rod Stewart. Jimmy pulled her chair out for her with an exaggerated limp.

  Bastards. Leave it to a bunch of coppers to show nothing but sympathy and compassion for a colleague with an injury or a misfortune. Only one thing to do in a situation like this—play along. She exaggerated her limp and sat heavily in her chair, perched her feet on the edge of the desk and waved her hand like a conductor. The laughter felt good. Really good. Almost as good as that look Gina had given her when she was leaving. The one that had taken in all of her and seemed to want more. The one that would have had Kate asking to go back inside, if not for Len Wild standing on the other side of the gate.

  “How you doing, hoppy?” Stella asked.

  “And they just keep coming. Any more piss-taking quips you all feel the need to get off your chests?”

  “Nah. We’ll save them for an appropriate time, thanks,” Tom added.

  She sighed heavily and pinned the picture she’d rescued from the boat to their crime board.

  “Is this the one you risked life and limb for?” Tom asked, sniggering.

  She sighed again, resigning herself to a life of ridicule for at least the duration of the case. “Yes, that one.” She folded her arms over her chest and stared at the board, just letting her eyes drift from one piece of information to the next, well aware of how sulky she looked, but willing to play her part. Good for morale and all that bollocks.

  Tom was still chuckling as he stowed his snorkel in his desk.

  “You do know it’s worrying that you have that in there, don’t you?”

  “Never know when you might need help getting out of deep water.”

  “Oh, bloody hell. Someone say something intelligent before my brain leaks out of my ear and I end up like him.”

  Stella cleared her throat. “Sands has a boat moored out in the harbour. Name of His First Love.”

  She nodded, trying to suppress the smirk she could feel on her lips. “Classic.”

  “It has a tender with a four-horsepower outboard on it.”

  “More than fast enough to get to six knots against the tide. What about Matt Green?”

  “Nothing so far, but we thought Sands was the priority check.”

  Kate sat down and wriggled, trying to find a comfortable spot for her leg.“Yeah, maybe. But Green and Connie had a set-to a while back. She showed him up pretty bad and it doesn’t sound like he’s the kind of bloke that takes too kindly to that.”

  “What happened?”

  Kate quickly covered the gist of the confrontation and Tom whistled.

  “So he has the skill to pull it off, alibi is on the dodgy side, he’s got motive, all we need now is a boat and he’s your man.”

  “He could have borrowed a boat even if he doesn’t own one.”

  “Would people round here lend a boat out like that?”

  Kate shrugged. “Probably. A small one anyway. Maybe not a sailboat but a tender. Yeah, most likely.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I grew up in small communities like this one. A little farther up north. My dad worked on the rigs, and me and Gran tried to stay close to wherever he was working. Small village
s like this are close-knit communities. They help each other out when they need it, and they lend things out because they never know when they might need something in return.”

  “Sounds like a good policy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Until you’re trying to catch a murderer.”

  “Exactly. So the question of the day now is, does Matt Green have access to a boat?”

  “Don’t beat about the bush, hey.”

  “No point. Who knows what other trouble I could get into today, given enough free time.”

  “It’s a fair point. And in answer to your question, yes, he does. He’s got a motorboat.”

  Kate grinned. “I think, ladies and germs, we have a lead suspect.”

  “Not Sands?” Jimmy asked.

  “Nope.” Kate got up and walked towards the board. She pinned the nautical chart up and pointed to the cross hatchings she’d filled in earlier. “Wild, Anderson, and Grimshaw have confirmed that from the body position, our victim was facing the harbour when she was shot. They’ve also identified the round and Len said he’d sent you a list of rifles. Is that right, Stella?”

  “Yup. I’ve been trying to track down permits for any that are on the list or anything that matches and has been reported missing in the last six months.”

  “Good.” She pointed to the dunes and Long Hill. “These are the two closest spots that a person could have been lying in position for Connie to take her morning walk at seven a.m. All this,” she said circling the blue zone, “was under water.”

  “Scolt Head Island’s cut off,” Collier said.

  “As is this section of beach at a high tide like this,” Tom said. “The beach road floods.”

  “Hence the boats,” Stella said. “So we’ve got Sands and Green with shaky alibis, access, and ability. Only Sands we know has motive—”

  “No, Green does too,” Kate said.

  “What motive?”

  She quickly updated them on her latest conversation with Gina. She grabbed a pen and circled Matt’s name. “Matt Green. Tom when you questioned him, where did he say he was?”

  “At work.”

  “Edward Sands said he was almost half an hour late. Didn’t get there till almost seven-thirty.”

  “So it could still be either of them,” Jimmy said. “Green or Sands.”

  “She had Green’s licence plate number in her diary,” Collier said.

  “Exactly. Nothing in the diary indicates Sands. It’s the one other thing that connects her to Green, not Sands,” Kate said.

  “Still, not solid evidence,” Stella said.

  “No, but surely enough to bring him in for questioning?”

  “Questioning about what?”

  “Where he actually was when he was late for work. Why his licence plate number is in her diary.”

  “And if he isn’t the killer and you bring up the diary, it’s out of the bag. I think it’s too soon,” Stella said.

  “You’re also ignoring the other two suspects on the capable list,” Tom said. “Adam and Ally Robbins. They also have a boat.”

  “They were out on the fishing boat,” Jimmy said.

  “Yes, giving each other an alibi,” Tom said.

  “Along with their father,” Jimmy replied. “Kate took a photo of the log book.”

  “Have we got a print of that?” Tom asked.

  “No. I can do that now, though. I wasn’t sure why I wanted it, to be honest. I think just to make her prove that they were out on the boat.” She searched her photostream for the image, while sending a silent prayer to her OCD about backing up her phone everyday. “I didn’t like her at all.” The printer was slow, and the hum and screech as it ran through its warm up routine was, well, annoying. When the photo finally rolled out of the machine, she pinned it up on the board.

  “Do those things have to get verified anywhere?” Stella asked.

  “No, but they have to register their catch or they can’t sell it. They also have a quota that they can’t exceed, so we can check those records,” Tom said.

  “And where, pray tell, would one search for that little nugget of information?” Stella asked.

  “I don’t know. Fisheries commission, maybe?”

  Stella shook her head. “I’ll find it.” She picked up the phone and started her hunt.

  Kate stared at the board and tried again to figure out what the numbers meant. 52.764. 52.289. 52.233. What the hell were they?

  Through her musings, she heard a phone ring. Tom picked it up.

  They had to mean something. The other parts of it all meant something, she was sure of it. And she was equally sure that as soon as they figured out what they were, they’d probably kick themselves because the answer would be obvious. Her Gran had always said it was easy when you knew the answer. Got any for me now, Gran? She looked up at the ceiling.

  “You’re on speakerphone, sir,” Tom’s voice brought her attention back to the present.

  “Good. I understand that you’ve identified a viable suspect in the case?” Timmons asked.

  “Well, sir, it’s possible,” Stella said.

  “I understand he has motive, means, opportunity, and the skills to pull this off. Is any of that wrong?”

  “No, sir, it isn’t, but there are other factors.”

  “Such as?”

  “There are other suspects that meet the same criteria.”

  “Really? Brothers said this one had a connection that the others didn’t.”

  Stella scowled at Tom. He held his hands up in surrender. “Green is mentioned in her diary by way of a number plate in a code. The other suspect with the same means, motive, and opportunity wasn’t mentioned there. But others were. I’m working on their alibis now to see how solid they are.”

  “And how are they looking?”

  “Unfortunately pretty solid.”

  “Brannon?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Go and pick up this Green. We need to know where he was when he should have been at work, and why his licence number is in her diary.”

  “Yes, sir.” She glanced over at Stella, and mumbled an apology, before tapping Tom on the shoulder and nodding towards the door. He grabbed his keys and jacket before meeting her at the door, eyes widened a little. They both felt bad for Stella. Being overruled by your CO in front of your team was not a nice feeling and Kate knew she wasn’t the only one glad to get out of there.

  The sky was turning from blue to grey as the afternoon turned to evening and her painkillers started to wear off again. She wished she’d thought to bring them with her.

  Out to sea, she could just make out the tall, white masts of the offshore wind farm against the clouds. Row upon row of white steel glinted in the sun, created new havens for wildlife on the seabed, and turned the near constant wind into vital power. She wondered how many homes each one powered as Tom drove past. Probably took half a dozen to power a laptop if you asked most of the critics.

  “Do you think he’s our guy?” Tom asked.

  “Green?”

  He nodded.

  “Don’t know. Let’s see what he’s got to say for himself.” She looked back out the window. “Maybe he just overslept, or he’s got a new girlfriend he was bonking.”

  “Ask before we take him in?”

  “Probably best.”

  “Any idea where he’ll be?”

  She pointed to the clock on the radio. “Half six. Let’s drive by his house and see if he’s home. If not, work?”

  Tom carried on until they reached the village. Matt Green’s house was on the main road. The lights were out, but Kate climbed out of Tom’s car and knocked. No one home. She got back in her car, Tom drove the mile to the other end of the village, and turned directly into the farmyard. The gravel crunched beneath her feet when she got out of the car and followed Tom to the Sands’ door. Rupert opened it this time.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, what do you want now?”

  Kate raised her eyebrows at him. “Not
very friendly, Mr. Sands, but we’re actually looking for one of your employees. Matt Green.”

  “Why? What’s he done now?”

  “We just need to ask him a couple of questions. Do you know where he is?”

  “He’s working late. We’ve had a breakdown and he’s supposed to be at the irrigation plant. There’s a blockage.”

  “Can you direct us?”

  “It’s over—”

  Tom’s phone rang. He held his hand up apologetically as he reached for it.

  “Sorry, you were saying?” Kate prompted.

  “It’s the field across the road. Backs onto the Coastal Path. You need to go—”

  “That was Stella. Gina Temple was trying to get hold of you. Apparently, Green’s round at her house causing problems.”

  “Right. Thanks for your help, Mr. Sands, but it looks like I don’t need those directions after all.” She walked back to the car.

  “Tell him I’m docking his wages!” Rupert shouted.

  “My pleasure,” Kate muttered under her breath.

  “So where am I going?” Tom asked. Kate gave him directions and they arrived within two minutes of peeling out of Rupert Sands’ gravel farmyard. Matt Green was banging on the door with his fist, shouting, and demanding to know where his gun was.

  Kate and Tom looked at each other as they rounded the car and walked up the garden path.

  “Mr. Green?” Kate said. “I’m Detective Sergeant Brannon and this is Detective Brothers. We’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”

  “Fuck off. I’m busy.” He pounded on the door again. “Gina, open the fucking door. If you’re not gonna let me see my kid again, at least tell me where my fucking gun is. I need it.”

  “Why do you need a gun, Mr. Green?”

  “I told you to fuck off.”

  “And I’ve been asked by the homeowner to tell you that you’re not welcome here.”

  Matt Green laughed. “She’s not the fucking homeowner. She just rents, like every other fucking lowlife in this shithole.”