One Lost Soul Page 2

  “I’m sorry to trouble you on the weekend.” His tone was genuinely apologetic. He could hear the squawking of gulls along with the sound of waves crashing in the background. Eric wasn’t in the station.

  “That’s okay. What’s up?” Janssen looked towards the beach. Alice was slowing as they walked up the incline not wishing to get too far ahead despite Saffy pulling on her outstretched hand, begging her to get a move on. Alice smiled in his direction and he returned it. His was forced. The sixth sense of his police intuition, along with years of past experience, told him their plans were about to be interrupted.

  “We’ve found a body. A young girl, out on the path running along the cliffs through Holkham reserve. You’re going to want to take a look.” Eric sounded nervous. He understood. Recently transferring into CID from uniform, Eric was still to find his feet, although he had everyone’s confidence except his own. “I’m down at Holkham beach myself, not far away. Send someone to pick me up from the main gate, would you?”

  Taking a deep breath, Tom forced another smile as he tried to draw Alice’s attention. She appeared to recognise the significance of the call because her own faded as he put his mobile away, trotting over to join them.

  “I’m sorry. Something’s come up and I’m going to have to work today, after all.”

  “That’s okay.” Alice was despondent. A touch of guilt tugged at him but it was a suspicious death and he couldn’t ignore it.

  “We can do this another time.” Saffy realised what they were talking about and threw him a dark look. The feeling of guilt grew. Dropping to his haunches, he addressed the girl. “I promise, I’ll come back with you another day.”

  “I’m not talking to you!” Saffy crossed her arms and turned her back to him. Stamping one foot on the ground as she spoke for dramatic effect. He looked to Alice, who smiled. Clearly, that wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed such a reaction.

  “We’ll be fine, Tom.” Alice reassured him, reaching over and relieving him of the two bags. “Honestly, it’s okay. Go and do what you have to. Just be sure and call me later.”

  He was relieved, feeling his sense of guilt dissipate. Passing her his car keys, he leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She smiled warmly. “They’re sending someone to pick me up, so you can take my car. I’ll pick it up later.” Saffy flatly refused to acknowledge the fact he was leaving or even to look at him, so he leant down and kissed her on the top of her head, ruffling her curls. She responded with a deep harrumph.

  Waving them off as they headed for the beach, he turned and set off for the gate a little over three hundred metres away. “Tom!” He looked over his shoulder to see Saffy, standing on the wooden boardwalk leading to the beach, jumping up and down and waving at him with both arms fully extended, flapping in an arc motion. He returned the wave with a broad grin. Then she turned away and ran ahead of her mother along the path, cutting through the pine forest in the most direct route to the beach.

  Chapter Two

  The route to the crime scene was barely a five-minute drive away. Eric was waiting for him at the edge of the police cordon, a thin blue and white barrier taping off the access to the path through the nature reserve. Despite his assurances, Janssen had the impression the detective constable was still on edge about calling his senior officer on his day off.

  “I’m sorry to call you out.” Eric repeated his apology but Janssen waved it away with a dismissive flick of his hand.

  Slipping beneath the tape, Eric led them along the path, apparently keen to demonstrate what he’d already achieved prior to his arrival. He spoke at a rate of knots and Janssen struggled to keep up, having to ask him to slow down and start again.

  “The call came in from the paramedics shortly after half-past eight. They pronounced her dead at the scene and immediately suspected foul play.” Eric looked at him with a serious expression, conveying the gravity of the scene.

  “And who called the ambulance?”

  Eric consulted his notebook. “A local lady, out for her morning walk. She came across her on the path.”

  They rounded a bend and the path descended, lined on both sides by banks with assorted brush and wild grass growing to knee height. They were in a natural hollow where the path ran close to the cliff edge. The sound of the waves thundering against the rocks below carried on the breeze making them feel much closer. At high tide, the sound would be greater still as the low-lying land making up the Holkham basin would fill.

  From here, the legs of a woman were clearly visible protruding onto the path. Her waist and upper body were lying on the shallow incline of the bank behind her. Coming closer, he wondered whether a woman was an apt description. She looked far younger. Maybe in her late teens. It was hard to tell. Her make-up was neatly applied, understated. Bright red lipstick and dark eye-liner accentuated her cheekbones and angular jaw. If it weren’t for the pale grey skin, one could be forgiven for thinking she was asleep, so peaceful was her expression. A sheen of frost covered her from head to toe. She had been out here much of the night.

  “It’s the bruising around the neck,” Eric said, as if his boss may have missed it. He hadn’t.

  Careful not to get too close to the body, he shifted his position in order to get a better look. Eric was right. He had seen enough strangulations before to know that this girl had been throttled. The bruising followed the lines of two grown hands closing around the girl’s throat. He assessed her. She couldn’t be much more than five-foot-three, petite. Her weight was hard to judge but she was slight. It wouldn’t take a lot for someone to overpower her, he was sure about that. What a tragic waste of a young life. Oddly, she wore no shoes. Inspecting the soles of her feet, they were dirty but not blackened, suggestive of her having walked a short distance barefoot recently, if not actually to this place.

  “Any idea who she is?” he asked, looking to Eric.

  “Yes. She’s the Bettany girl.”

  “Colin and Marie’s daughter?”

  “That’s right. You know them?” Eric asked, sounding surprised. He always did when outsiders knew the locals. Those without form at least. Not that Tom Janssen was a true outsider. He grew up in Sheringham, along the coast from the more famous seaside town of Cromer. However, when you moved away only to later return there was still the scepticism regarding how truly Norfolk you really were.

  Janssen shook his head. “No, just by name. I didn’t know they had children. I saw her parents this morning by pure coincidence.”

  “They have two, although the other one’s name, I can’t recall. I’ll check.” Eric confirmed his superior knowledge of the local community. “They have the GP practice just outside Burnham Overy. They’ll be devastated. I called in forensics as well as the coroner. They’ll be on their way.”

  “Good. What do you make of them, Colin and Marie?”

  Eric took a moment, his expression a contorted mixture of sincere thought and concentration. “Professional. Well respected and hard working. Posh.”

  “Posh?”

  “Well, you know… wealthy, moving in the right social circles and stuff like that.”

  Janssen wondered whether there was an edge to Eric’s tone. He was a lovely young man, dedicated, but every now and again a little chip would appear on his shoulder, often without notice and at the strangest of times.

  “Right. What about the witness, the lady who found her, where is she?”

  “I took her details and sent her home. I said we’ll call round later and take her statement. Is that okay?”

  Janssen nodded his approval, focusing on the deceased. “What did you say her name is?”

  “Holly. Holly Bettany,” Eric confirmed.

  “How old was she, do you know?”

  “Sixteen or seventeen, I think. I know she was studying at the local sixth form.”

  Janssen blew out his cheeks, massaging his temple with the fingers of his left hand. Too young to go out like this. “We’ll need to go and speak to the parents. Word ge
ts around and I don’t want them hearing about it from anyone but us.”

  The village of Burnham Market was a hive of activity. The warm sunshine had brought people out to visit the independent shops, galleries and artisanal establishments the area was known for. At the centre of a conservation area, it was the quintessential chocolate box representation of a rural Georgian market village. Eric turned off the high street and picked his way down the narrow side street, negotiating the parked vehicles of early season tourists and residents alike.

  Brancaster House was easily identifiable by the large plaque mounted to the side of the entrance, fixed to the huge perimeter wall. The tyres of the car crunched on the gravel lining the driveway as they pulled up before the front door.

  Janssen rang the doorbell, hearing it chime within. Moments later, a figure appeared on the other side. It was Marie Bettany, Janssen recognising her from earlier in the day. She had changed out of her earlier clothes. Now she was wearing a long summer dress, predominantly blue with a floral print. Her hair, worn up that morning, now hung to her shoulders and she sported a pearl necklace. There was a flicker of recognition when Janssen revealed his warrant card but she pretended to acknowledge him only for the first time there and then. He introduced Eric behind him, also brandishing his identification. To Janssen it came across in a stylistic way reminiscent of a television crime programme. The young man really hadn’t settled into his new role yet.

  She welcomed them into the house but it struck him as a begrudging gesture which he found odd.

  “Could your husband join us as well?” Janssen asked, looking around the entrance hall. It was suitably grand, far larger than the biggest room in Janssen’s own home, with hardwood panelling lining the walls and continuing on up the ornately carved staircase to the first floor.

  “I’m sure, yes. Please, do come through.”

  She led them along the hall towards the rear of the house. The ticking of a grandmother clock echoed off the walls and the polished parquet floor. Janssen noted Eric’s discomfort, resolving to enquire about his strange behaviour later on. The kitchen was huge, a real farmhouse affair. Obviously, a modern installation and yet with a traditional inspiration. Marie Bettany stepped across to the threshold of the French doors and called out into the garden before returning to them. She met Janssen’s eye and he thought he saw a glimmer of embarrassment. He was surprised she wasn’t pushing to know why they were there.

  Colin Bettany arrived shortly after, appearing at the entrance from the garden, beads of sweat on his forehead and looking decidedly unhappy at the interruption.

  “For Pete’s sake, Marie, what is it?” He pulled up when he caught sight of the detectives. His facial expression changed in an instant along with his tone, adopting a far more gracious manner. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t realise we had visitors. It’s just that we have guests arriving this afternoon for drinks before we head out for a meal and I have so much to organise.”

  Janssen spied the dining table in the adjoining room. It was laden with plates of food, all neatly laid out and wrapped in cling film. By the look of it, they were expecting a fair number of people.

  “No need to apologise, Mr Bettany.” Janssen smiled warmly as he spoke.

  “Dr Bettany,” he replied coolly. Janssen was taken aback but then again, some people could be spiky when it came to their titles. In contrast, Marie didn’t seem to be particular about hers though.

  “My apologies. Perhaps we could sit down.” His tone was serious, conveying the gravity of the reason for their visit.

  “What is it?” Marie asked, in a worried tone.

  “I’m afraid we have some distressing news for you. We found the body of a young woman this morning in the Holkham nature reserve. I’m sorry to have to tell you but we believe it to be your daughter, Holly.”

  “Impossible!” Marie stated emphatically. “Holly travelled to Norwich yesterday evening for a recital. They are practising today before this evening’s performance.” She was unequivocal. Janssen glanced at Eric but he remained firm, confirming his own certainty with an almost imperceptible nod.

  “We strongly believe it is her. Obviously, we need to carry out a formal identification but that will have to wait.”

  “Wait?” Colin Bettany cut in, flabbergasted. “Wait for what exactly?” His tone returned to hostile as he continued on. “You only ever wait if you are treating it as a crime scene. Is that the case?”

  Marie gasped, throwing one hand across her mouth and bracing against the worktop alongside her with the other. Eric appeared ready to leap over and catch her if she fell but she steadied herself seconds later.

  “We are investigating the circumstances surrounding her death, Dr Bettany. I’m sorry but it does appear your daughter was the victim of an attack and therefore, potentially a murder.” Janssen watched as the detail sank in. It was too early for him to know the cause of death, albeit the evidence was suggestive but not as yet conclusive.

  Colin Bettany pulled out a chair from the nearby breakfasting table and sank into it, a look of bewilderment crossing his face.

  “Marie is right. Holly was supposed to be in Norwich last night.” He spoke softly, with no sign of the previous aggression and hostility.

  “When was the last time you saw her?” Janssen asked, taking out a notebook.

  “Yesterday afternoon,” Marie replied. “I dropped her at the bus stop. I offered to take her all the way into Norwich but she said she would rather make her own way and besides, Colin and I both had plans and I needed to get ready.”

  “Plans?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Colin cut in. “Nothing exciting. A meeting of the rotary club to discuss fundraisers, that type of thing and then I had work to attend to.”

  “When was Holly due to come back?”

  “Later tonight. I don’t know when exactly,” Colin replied. He appeared to Janssen to be lost but there was more than that. Clearly overwhelmed, he was also agitated and unfocussed. Unsurprising, bearing in mind the news he’d just received but clearly the reality of the situation was yet to really hit home. Colin looked to his wife. “I guess we should phone round everyone and cancel today.” Janssen was surprised at the cool, almost offhand nature of the comment but he said nothing.

  “For heaven’s sake, Colin!” Marie muttered, tears welling in her eyes. Janssen agreed with the sentiment. “I… I should make you gentlemen some tea…” She began to hunt around the kitchen, almost as if it was the first time she had been in there, seemingly unable to locate anything she would need to enable the process.

  “That’s okay, Mrs Bettany. There’s no need.” He tried to put her at ease but the offer of the tea was merely a distraction for her, an opportunity to focus on something monotonous and thereby remove her from reality if only for a few minutes. “Tell me, if the concert recital was this evening… why was she due to travel yesterday?”

  “We pay for private tuition,” Marie explained, glancing at her husband. He looked to the floor, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. “Holly’s grades have slipped and she wanted to make it to medical school… without the extra support, she was never going to make it.”

  “We’ll need to check up on whether she made the appointment. Can you think of anywhere she might go if she decided to ditch it or the recital? Did she have any close friends or a boyfriend perhaps?”

  Colin Bettany sat upright, a flash of irritation momentarily crossing his face. “No! She didn’t have time for boyfriends or any of that nonsense.”

  “You’re sure?” Janssen knew that often the parents were the last to know what their teenage daughters were up to. He could still remember dating them when he was a similar age, although the clarity of those memories was fading. “What about friends?”

  “If she did, I’m sure we would know. Am I right, Marie?” His wife nodded, retrieving a tissue from a box alongside a set of cookbooks, stacked on a low shelf. “As for friends…
she didn’t have many. Amelia was probably her closest.”

  “Amelia?” Eric double checked, making a note.

  “Yes. Amelia Harding,” Marie confirmed.

  “Fraser and Angela’s daughter?” Eric asked. Janssen was once again blown away by his detective constable’s connections. Did he know everybody in this part of Norfolk? Marie confirmed it and Eric scribbled away in his notebook. Janssen put his away.

  “Is there any reason you can think of that might explain why she stayed here last night, anywhere she may have planned to go?”

  Both parents shook their heads. Marie spoke. “She had her overnight case along with a change of clothes for today. Not forgetting her uniform for tonight’s performance. I guess, she could have been planning to stay with a friend. I can check in her room and see what she took?”

  Marie moved towards the inner door, presumably to head upstairs but Janssen stopped her. “It might be best if you let DC Collet take a look first? With your permission, it will be important for us to go through her things. Doing so may shed some light on her motivations.” Marie nodded but her husband bristled.

  “Is that really necessary? I mean, we’re just talking about some clothes.”

  Janssen ignored his protests, indicating for Eric to take a look.

  “Perhaps you could show DC Collet the way, Mrs Bettany.”

  “You should be out finding whoever did this to my daughter!” Colin Bettany snapped at no one in particular, dropping his head and burying his face in his hands. Janssen thought he was crying. There were some days when he hated his job.

  Chapter Three

  Eric let Marie guide him through the house. The first floor was as grand as he imagined it would be. The landing was so wide in places that it could accommodate various pieces of furniture. Each appeared well worn and could have been expensive antiques or picked up in a local charity shop. He didn’t know about such things. He was out of his depth in the company of these types of people.