Tom's eyes flitted to Caitlyn and she held his gaze for a moment before glancing at her husband and away. He returned his attention to Simon, now cutting an indignant pose.
"We will be in touch when the coroner confirms we can release your brother's body," Tom said. "And then you can make your decision as to what you want to do."
Simon Moy offered him a curt nod and walked away without another word. Tom glanced at his watch. He had to get back to the station. Tamara had arranged a briefing and it was due to start in half an hour.
Tom entered the ops room. Tamara and Kerry Palmer turned to look at him. He was a little later than intended.
"How did you get on with the brother?" Tamara asked.
"There's a lot to unpick but suffice to say they were not close. I don't think he has any intention of resolving his brother's affairs, let alone arranging a funeral."
"Wow. There's no love lost there."
Tom pulled out a chair and sat down. Tamara turned to Kerry Palmer.
"Have you been through the CCTV from the supermarket yet?"
"Yes. It is pretty much as the staff described. Billy Moy enters through the main doors and does a basket shop. He doesn't interact very much, appears to have a brief exchange with a couple of members of staff but very informal by the look of the body language. I tracked him through the shop and married up what he was selecting with what we found at his home. Nothing unusual at all."
"And outside?" Tom asked. "The set to in the car park?"
"Now that is interesting," Kerry said, turning to her desk and retrieving a folder.
She stood up and crossed to the whiteboard where she proceeded to stick up several stills taken from the security footage. From the angle it was clearly the camera mounted on the pole Tom had noted on the Saturday night.
"The other cameras mounted inside and around the store didn't catch anything as we expected. However, this footage comes from the camera observing the recycling bins. I think it is positioned to catch people raiding the bins but you can see in these stills that they do appear to catch an argument taking place." She pointed to the first two stills. "This is Billy Moy, we can see from his clothing and his distinctive… um… head shape?" She looked around and no one saw fit to challenge her description. She continued, "He appears to be having words with a man who sadly never steps into shot—"
"That's annoying," Cassie said.
"Very," Kerry agreed. She produced two more stills and stuck them up as well. "This first one here catches the rear of a car parked just beyond the recycling bins in the background. Nowhere near enough information to make out a model, let alone a numberplate. However, I watched the footage in its entirety and this vehicle in the background moves off moments after Billy and whoever he was arguing with separated."
"You think it could be the guy?" Tom asked.
"That was my thinking. This last still was taken from a camera a little further down the road. It is mounted on the exterior of a restaurant and takeaway behind the petrol station on the A149. If you look at the time stamp it is moments after the car leaves the supermarket." She put the still on the board. The vehicle was a dark estate car. "This particular car pulls in at the turn just before the entrance to the restaurant and parks up for less than a minute."
The camera wasn't angled at the road, focussing on the premises' car park, and the car had stopped on the far side of a small hedgerow blocking the view of the lower half of the car including the numberplate. Tom stared at the car. There were two occupants. One appeared to have a baseball cap on and the other had long hair hanging to the shoulders. The image was grainy and only recorded in standard definition, the lack of sunlight further hampering observation of any detail. Tom was pretty certain the passenger was a woman.
"I've saved the best until last," Kerry said. "As I said, the car stays put for a minute until several others pass and then pulls out again. Now, on the off chance I called into the petrol station seeing as they have cameras on their forecourts in case of drive-offs. I was able to get a shot with the road in the background and we can clearly see this particular car as it joins back into traffic. Guess which car they were directly behind?"
Tamara cleared her throat. "Please tell us it was Billy Moy's, otherwise it'll be one heck of an anti-climax."
Kerry smiled. "Yes, I believe it was. Were they following him? We can't know for sure but it is a dark car and the timings fit."
"Numberplate?"
Kerry shook her head. "No, the shot only films the car from the side on and the lack of light makes identification of the occupants nigh on impossible."
"Shame. Great work nonetheless, Kerry," Tamara said. "I've been reading through the forensic analysis report that scenes of crime have put together for us. The flakes of paint we found on the tree stump are not particularly insightful. Standard metallic black paint. Sadly nothing exotic enough to help us. However, if we find a vehicle to match it to then they are more than confident they'll be able to do so. They could say it hadn't been there long, so it may or may not be related to the murder. I've emailed you all the report, so please do familiarise yourselves with it."
She turned to the board. "The team did a full sweep of the cabin for prints and produced a number of usable sets for comparison. We have run them and got a hit that I find very interesting."
"Who do they belong to?" Tom asked.
"Danny Tice. Do you know him?"
Tom shook his head. "Should I?"
"Not necessarily. He's been picked up for a string of offences. Mostly petty crimes: shoplifting, pickpocketing and he did six months inside for possession with intent to supply of a Class A drug. That was three years ago."
"Stealing and selling to fund his habit," Tom said. "Anything more recent?"
Tamara shook her head. "No. Until his prints came up here, we've had no dealings with him for well over a year."
"Do we have an address for him now?"
"Not for him directly, but the database has thrown up a list of known associates we should work through."
Tom made a note. "Murder would be quite a step up for him."
"I agree but maybe he didn't go there alone. Definitely one to speak to. Where are we with second-hand shops, pawnbrokers and the like?"
"Nothing reported out of the ordinary," Tom said. "It's only been a few days though. Perhaps they're still sitting on things they stole."
Tamara frowned at him. He knew he was wrong as soon as he said it. Burglars get rid of what they take as quickly as possible. For starters it holds no value to them sitting in their house and only increases the risk of their being caught with it. If they hadn't offloaded what they took already, then they weren't going to. The question was why?
"Do you think they left town?" Kerry asked. "Because of the aggravated nature of the offence, they went further afield."
"To avoid being fingered for a murder?" Tamara asked. Kerry nodded vigorously. "Good point. It is certainly possible."
"If Tice is still a junkie," Tom said, "he won't be thinking much further than his next fix. Skipping town and running into unfamiliar territory with a load of hot gear… I doubt it somehow, but we should consider it. Kerry, put the feelers out to neighbouring stations. I still think he'd stay in the Norfolk area where he knows his suppliers."
Kerry made a note. Cassie and Eric entered ops saying their hellos while taking their coats off.
"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," Cassie said as she and Eric sat down.
Tamara waved the apology away. "One thing that I found odd when going through the report – which I admit I missed at the time – was this." She pointed to a photograph taken at the crime scene. It was a small cardboard box lying on the dining table with the lid alongside it.
"What is it?" Tom asked.
"A shoebox."
Tom's brow furrowed. "The significance of that?"
Tamara shook her head. "No idea. It was on the table, open. Nothing inside. The box is not particularly old, but it has been used as storage
but there was nothing inside, no packaging, no odds and ends. Nothing. The box was for a pair of ankle boots, female, size seven. No sign of the boots. I even checked the inventory from the wardrobes. Nothing there either. So, I'm thinking—"
"What's it doing there?" Tom asked.
"Exactly. There's no reason. It may well be insignificant, but it is out of place and I don't like oddities that stand out like that." Tamara stood staring at the board as if she expected an answer to leap out at her but it clearly didn't happen. She sighed and turned back to face the room. "Okay, that's all I have on the Moys. Tom, anything else from you?"
"I'm scheduled to speak to the pathologist," he glanced at his watch, "after lunch to run through the autopsy results. He's already given me the highlights and advised me not to expect anything else earth-shattering. The cause of death was the knife wound to the chest which pierced his heart. Death would have occurred soon after. There were no indications of defensive wounds or trace evidence under the fingernails. Whoever killed him did so without a fight."
"What about the bruising to his face? Was it likely the result of a fall or something?"
"Must have occurred a day or more previous to the death, so that's probably Wednesday afternoon onwards. He had an altercation with someone though because he also had bruising to the left side of his midriff. We know he was working at the Finneys' farm Monday through Wednesday and no one said anything about an accident, so it is worth considering something happened on the Wednesday after he left theirs. Oddly, there was no indication to suggest he had fought back there either. No abrasions on his knuckles or anything. It's like he took a kicking without trying to stop it. Strange."
"I'll say so. Why would someone do that unless the notion of fighting back terrified him more than just taking it?" Tamara drew breath, looking to Cassie and Eric in turn. "Right, you two. Where are we at with the mystery man?"
"We have a name!" Cassie said, eyes focussed on her computer screen.
"We do?" Eric asked, surprised.
She turned her screen to face the room, smiling. "Interpol matched his prints. He's a thirty-eight-year-old Latvian national by the name of Aleksandrs… Bal–Balodis. I think that's how you pronounce it anyway. Yes, Balodis. It says here he is originally from Latgale, a region in Latvia."
"Where's that?" Eric asked.
Cassie shook her head. "Latvia."
"Yes, I got that part," Eric said curtly.
"No idea. I'll have to Google it," Cassie said. "But we have a name. Looking at what they've sent through, he's not the type of guy you'd want to come across on a dark night. His record is… extensive."
"What for?" Tom asked. "Give us the highlights."
Cassie scanned the document on her screen looking for the most serious offences. "Multiple arrests for violence, fraud, extortion… and there's one here for smuggling."
"Drugs?" Tom asked.
Cassie shook her head, leaning in towards the screen and concentrating as she read. "No. Cars. He was part of a network who stole cars in Sweden, prestige European marques, and shipped them into the Baltic states and Russia, re-registering them and moving them on with new identities. Although, it looks like he was some way down the food chain on that one. He only served two years inside. The operation was worth millions when a combined Swedish, Latvian task force took them down."
"Did you have any luck on the ground in Hunstanton?" Tamara asked.
Eric answered. "The tattooist managed to give us a few pointers, suggesting our guy was foreign," he looked sideways at Cassie, "and it looks like he was right, but he didn't know him or see him personally. Likewise with the theatre. The production depicted in the flyer isn't due into town until next month. I've no idea why he would have it on him. It could be he just picked it up or someone handed it to him in passing."
"Eric, find out if he's been staying locally," Tamara said. "When did he arrive in the UK, Cassie? I want to know. Likewise, if he has been staying here, then what's his business? Who is he visiting? I want some answers. If all else fails today, circulate his photograph and see if anyone bites. Remember he may also have checked in somewhere with the woman, perhaps under her name and not his, and we can presume, for now, that she is still around and about. Let's find her. In the meantime, Tom, Kerry, I feel like getting some fresh air so why don't we take a trip out and see if we can locate Danny Tice."
Someone rapped their knuckles on the door into ops. They turned to see Ken Abbott, a station veteran in uniform, nearly thirty years in and carrying more than a little extra weight in his middle-age spread overhanging his belt, standing at the threshold. He nodded and smiled at Kerry who offered him a little wave in return.
"Sorry to interrupt, Ma'am."
"That's okay," Tamara said, looking around. "We're pretty much done here. What can we do for you?"
"Fly tipping," Abbott said, drawing raised eyebrows from Tamara who exchanged a look with Tom.
"I do hope there's more?" Tamara said.
PC Abbott smiled. "The Moy place was picked clean of electricals and the like, wasn't it?" Tamara nodded. "You asked us to keep an eye out for anything being traded locally… anyway, one of the residents living on Manor Road, on the outskirts of Heacham, you know it?"
Tamara looked at Tom again. She obviously had no idea but Tom did. "The unadopted track opposite the self-storage place on the edge of the village?"
Abbott nodded. "That's the one. One of the residents has complained to us about a load of gear dumped in the woods opposite their house."
"Fly tipping?" Tom said.
"Yeah, one of the lads ducked out to placate them, Sergeant's orders, you know how it is, but he found it's not your usual garbage. They've chucked a television, laptop and a few cameras. That's the sort of thing you're looking for and it's only a couple of minutes’ drive from Billy Moy's place, isn't it? Too much of a coincidence."
"Is your man still out there?" Tom asked.
"Yeah. I told him to hold fast until I'd spoken to you."
Tamara smiled. "A little detour on our hunt for Danny Tice then."
Chapter Thirteen
Manor Road was a gravel-lined track located on the outskirts of Heacham before you reached the boundary of Hunstanton. The houses were large and detached, and all positioned on one side of the road. Behind them the land dropped away, with the sea visible in the distance, before the new housing development on the outer edge of Hunstanton sprang up on the opposing slope.
Tom parked the car and he, Tamara and Kerry Palmer got out. The uniformed constable was waiting for them along with a member of the public, a grey-haired lady whom Tom assumed was the person who originally called in the complaint. The constable indicated towards them and the two of them stepped forward to meet the small party. At the edge of the road was a strip of mature woodland occupying the space between the established properties and a small development of newer homes beyond.
PC Wilkins introduced Judith Taylor, confirming she was the complainant. "Ma'am, sir, the items are just over here." He led them a few metres away and the woman called after them.
"Shameless, people dumping what they don't want around here. You should make arrests!"
Tom smiled politely, dipping his head towards Kerry in a silent request for her to try and placate the woman while they examined what she'd found. The collection of electrical goods had been crudely disposed of with very little attempt to conceal them from view. Tom dropped to his haunches and cast an eye over the pile for that is what it was. No care had been made to set them down carefully. It was as if they'd been heaved into the brush without thought. The television screen had smashed, the internal workings visible to see. The lens of a camera had likewise smashed, most likely as it impacted on the items around it. A laptop was beside the pile, seemingly having slid off and the edge was buried in the soil. He didn't hold out much hope for the condition of the screen and the hard drive.
He looked up at Tamara. "We'll have to have all this stuff fingerprinted to see if it belo
nged to Billy Moy." He glanced over his shoulder at Kerry Palmer talking to Judith Taylor. The latter appeared calmer as Kerry had a way of disarming people with her soft speech. The thought occurred that this job was as much about people as it was investigation and she had the ability to diffuse most situations with calm authority. That was one reason he'd taken her on board in the first place. "Let's see if she saw who dumped this lot."
Tamara agreed and they walked back. They did indeed find her a great deal more agreeable, possibly thinking her concerns were finally being listened to.
Kerry spoke first. "Mrs Taylor saw the vehicle that she thinks disposed of the items on Friday evening."
"Friday?" Tom queried and Mrs Taylor nodded.
"Yes, I was just setting out after dinner for my evening walk with the dog," she said, pleased to have all four police officers listening to her. She gestured to a house thirty yards away, set back from the road behind a large hedgerow. "That's our place over there. I say ours but my husband passed five years ago and since then it has just been me."
"I'm so sorry," Kerry said.
Mrs Taylor smiled. "Very sweet of you, dear," she said, patting Kerry's forearm softly with her hand. "It's rather a large house to rattle around in on my own. Well, I say on my own but I have the dog of course—"
"Mrs Taylor?" Tom said gently. "Did you see who left the items?"
"Sort of… no. Well, I saw a man throw something into the brush and I heard a smash, or I thought it was a smash. He glanced up the track and I'm sure he saw me because he hurried around to the driver's door and got in quick smart."
"What did he look like?"
"Young." She frowned. "Mind you, everyone looks young to me these days." Kerry smiled at the comment. "Anyway, he looked straight at me. Nasty piece of work."
"How so?" Tom asked.
"Beady eyes… a black stare on him. Makes me shudder the way he looked at me."
"Can you describe him to us? Was he white? How old would you say?"
To Die For: A chilling British detective crime thriller (The Hidden Norfolk Murder Mystery Series Book 9) Page 11
