One lost soul, p.24
One Lost Soul, page 24
part #1 of Hidden Norfolk Murder Mystery Series
“You didn’t think I was going to make you get a cab to the station, did you?” Janssen said with a smile.
“I don’t see why not.” She returned the smile, appreciating the gesture. After a pretty intense week, she still found Janssen to be something of a closed book. Just when she thought she had him figured out he would throw her off again. During their time working together Janssen appeared to approach cases differently to her but at no point did he ever imply his was a superior route nor did he undermine hers. Aware of her own inability to work closely with others, their time together had proved something of a success. “I’ve stretched out the overnight bag as far as I could.” He laughed then. “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving you with all the paperwork. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“Oh, in that case, I needn’t have bothered coming,” Janssen said, taking the suitcase and putting it in the boot of the car. “Eric and I played rock, paper, scissors for the trip.”
“Who won?”
“Now, that’d be telling,” Janssen replied, getting in his side as she opened her door.
The child’s seat was back in the rear and she broke her own rule about intruding on her colleague’s private life. “Tom, do you have a child or do you slip that in occasionally just to confuse people?” He laughed again. It was as if the successful conclusion of the case had eliminated the stress of the previous seven days. Janssen came across as a different man to the somewhat broody, reticent one she first met at Downham Market the week before.
“Alice, my partner does.”
“Ah… they live with you?”
“No and I don’t see that happening any time soon either.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Looking out of the window across the estuary as Janssen started the car, she realised she would miss the place, although she’d return soon enough. Janssen glanced across at her as he pulled away.
“A boat isn’t an ideal place for children to spend their time,” he said quietly, pulling out into traffic.
“You never said you lived on a boat.” That was novel, quirky. Somehow, he didn’t seem the type. There was so much to him that she was unaware of that could easily have come up in conversation. Although, she was often accused of being someone who was unwilling to listen. Tom also struck her as one who was reluctant to share personal information. They held that in common. Her thoughts drifted to Richard and how he would respond to her popping home for a day or two before leaving once more. She wasn’t sure, doubting it would be news warmly received. The anticipation of an argument threatened to dampen her mood and pushing the thought from her mind, she turned her attention to Maddie Bettany. “How did it go with Marie?” Janssen sucked air through his teeth.
“What we were expecting. She’s closed ranks with her husband and is flatly refusing to cooperate.”
“Even now… having established beyond reasonable doubt that he killed their daughter?” Janssen confirmed the assertion. A flash of anger passed through her before she set it aside, her heart reaching out to Holly’s sister. A troubling period lay ahead whatever the outcome of her father’s prosecution. People talking, always pointing the finger. Maddie and her mother, if she proved not to be complicit, would always carry that burden unless they decamped to pastures new. Even then, the ways of the modern world and its tabloid nature would make this part of their lives very difficult to leave behind. “The poor girl.” She almost whispered the words.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing… I was just thinking about the innocents affected by all of this.” She stared out of the window at the passing landscape. “And Callum. Is he still not talking?”
“Not a word. Nor are Ken and Jane Francis. We’ve rumbled a dysfunctional group that’s for certain. I dare say Callum will keep it zipped but the other two may well turn on each other at any moment.”
She laughed at that. Janssen was underestimating their attachment to the status quo. The lengths Jane went to in order to preserve a marriage that was little more than a mutually beneficial arrangement were incredible but then again, weren’t all marriages similar in one way or another? Once the initial passion of a relationship subsided, what remained were two people keeping each other company as they passed through life. Is that where they were, her and Richard? Shuddering at the thought, the journey home suddenly made her feel anxious. Janssen must have noticed a subtle shift in her demeanour because he took on a concerned expression.
“Are you okay?”
She smiled weakly. “I’m fine.” He didn’t seem convinced but didn’t offer further comment. After the events of the week, the last thing she wanted was more drama and that was her expectation. Richard was a man used to getting his own way. Not so much with her despite his best efforts. Perhaps they were too different or maybe in some ways too similar.
Janssen took the turning into the train station. Pulling up in the drop-off zone, he got out. There was a train already at the platform. They were cutting it fine. She was pleased to have already arranged her ticket. By the time she got out, Janssen was already alongside the car having retrieved her case from the boot. Taking the offered handle, she thanked him. They exchanged pleasantries and she set off towards the station entrance as he returned to the driver’s side. She called after him just as he opened the door. “I never thanked you for being there the other day, when I was holding on to Mark. For a moment… I wasn’t sure it was you coming at us through the fog.”
Janssen inclined his head. “You can hold your own, I’m sure. We make quite a team, you and me.” He smiled warmly. “Maybe you should put your hand up a little more often.”
“I might just do that, Inspector.” Her face split a grin. “Besides, I’m dying to see that canal boat of yours.” She turned and walked through the double doors and onto the concourse without looking back. If she had, she would have seen Janssen watching her go until she disappeared from sight, absently drumming his fingertips on the roof of the car. He lingered there for a few moments until a taxi driver conveyed his irritation at Janssen’s blocking of the zone by sounding his horn.
“I’ll be seeing you DCI Greave,” he said under his breath. Glancing at the taxi, he got into the car, restarted the engine and set off back to the station.
Bury Your Past
Hidden Norfolk – Book 2
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Hidden Norfolk - Book 2
Prologue
Sand, whipped into the air by the force of the easterly wind, stung his face. The clouds parted momentarily revealing the new moon and a brief glance to the horizon saw the shifting light of the coming dawn. Time was limited. The fallen trees, a result of the violence of the previous night, left many local roads impassable with residents hunkering down in their homes to wait out the storm. Many heeded the warnings and travelled inland away from the coast, thereby avoiding the worst of the damage and disruption. Others, however, didn’t fare as well. Coastal flooding struck several communities overnight according to the news report he heard on the radio. The power was out across much of the region with no indication of when things would return to normal, Norfolk’s eastern coast battered back to the stone age in the space of a few hours.
Now amongst the dunes, he caught sight of another soul braving the lull that followed the previous night’s events, walking their dog along the deserted beach. Dropping down he found some shelter from the elements with the dunes acting as a natural wind break and the relative calm allowed him to hear the sounds of the nearby breakers crashing onto the beach. Reaching into his knapsack, he took out his small bundle tightly wrapped in linen. Laying it on the ground, he carefully unfurled the material to reveal the contents. A small circular mirror, slightly smaller than the palm of an adult hand, was put to one side. Alongside this he placed a black candle, a length of string and a piece of cinnamon bark. Lastly, he set down a smooth oval rock the size of a closed fist that he’d collected from the shoreline.
Taking a marker pen from his jacket, he picked up the mirror and scribbled a word upon it. Laying it in the centre of the linen he retrieved a cigarette lighter from his pocket and, protecting the wick from the breeze with his body, lit the candle. Once the wax began to melt, he angled the candle in order to allow three drops of wax to splash down onto the surface of the mirror. Then he allowed the breeze to extinguish the flame. Nervously casting his eyes to the east, the sun threatened to breach the horizon at any moment. The reddish backdrop to the tumbling angry clouds promised yet another day of turbulence. Putting the candle aside he reached for the cinnamon. Snapping the bark into smaller pieces in the palm of his hand, he closed his eyes and sprinkled it over the mirror whilst softly mouthing an incantation long committed to memory. Taking each corner of the linen in turn, he folded them into the centre creating a pouch of sorts and tied the corners together with the string. Working with more haste now, he used both hands to dig in and push the sand aside in order to fashion a hole roughly six inches deep at its centre. Then, he lifted the pouch and laid it carefully inside.
Picking up the rock, he hefted it above his head and looked out to sea once more. As the first glimpse of the sun crested the horizon he brought his arm down as fast as he could, hurling the rock into the hole. The muted sound of the mirror smashing under the impact carried and without a moment to lose he refilled the hole as fast he could, smoothing over the topmost layer of sand with the palms of both hands. He left them flat against the ground, stretching out his fingers into the sand and feeling the slight warmth of the rising sun on his skin. Closing his eyes, in that very moment, he was certain the elemental power of the earth coursed through him.
The sound of a dog barking came to him on the wind, erratic and shrill. Something about the animal’s intensity piqued his interest and he stood, slowly clambering up to the crest of the dune and looking down along the beach. Barely forty yards away, the dog, a black Labrador, was standing as if on point barking to alert its owner, occasionally stopping and leaning into the ground, pawing at the sand and tugging on something at the base of the dunes. Curious, he moved closer, watching as the dog’s owner, an elderly man, drew near, pulling the animal away by its collar. For its part, the dog continued to bark excitedly.
Making his way toward them, he watched as the man knelt and appeared to be trying to retrieve something from the ground. Approaching, he saw whatever it was, it was wrapped in a piece of material and apparently well buried in the sand. The receding water lapped at their feet leaving a frothy residue as it dragged sand away from their discovery with each tidal sway. The dog came over to inspect the newcomer and he held out the back of his hand to allow the animal to smell him. The creature became rapidly disinterested and returned to its owner. Coming to stand alongside, he watched him recoil from the discovery before rising and backing away. They hadn’t met before. The old man’s face was ashen and pale, his eyes haunted. Looking past him, he wondered what he’d found.
“I… I better call the police,” the man said, fumbling for his mobile phone. Intrigued, he stepped past and dropped to his haunches to inspect the find. Once white, the material was now heavily stained and discoloured by exposure to the elements. “Damn it. I haven’t got a signal.” That wasn’t a surprise. The storm had brought down both trees as well as power lines and there was no reason the cell towers wouldn’t also have been disrupted. Meeting the old man’s eye, he recognised the expression. Not merely apprehension but true fear invoked by the discovery. People are so scared of what they don’t understand.
Returning his gaze to ground, he lifted the material to reveal what lay beneath. Folding it back he drew a hand across his mouth. The skull and a portion of the neck were given up from its sandy grave. The eye sockets stared up at him, empty and lifeless and the dawn sunlight glinted from a silver necklace hanging between the vertebrae. He leaned closer, lifting the pendent for a better look. “Do you think you should be doing that?” A nervous voice said from behind. He ignored him, inclining his head sideways and trying to imagine the face of the person buried in the sand, he pursed his lips. “I’m going back to my house. Maybe the landline will work from there. I really don’t think you should be touching that.” Summoning his dog, the man set off without another word.
Looking over his shoulder, he watched the retreating figure as he walked away. Once he was out of earshot, he returned his focus to the human remains once more and smiled, releasing his hold on the chain and allowing the necklace to drop. “I always knew one day you would be returned to us.”
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Also by the author
The Hidden Norfolk Series
Bury Your Past http://geni.us/Bury_Your_Past
Available for pre-order
The Dark Yorkshire Series
Divided House http://geni.us/Divided_House
Blacklight http://geni.us/Blacklight
The Dogs in the Street http://geni.us/The_Dogs_in_the_Street
Blood Money http://geni.us/Blood_Money
Fear the Past http://geni.us/Fear_the_Past
The Sixth Precept https://geni.us/The_Sixth_Precept
The Dark Yorkshire Series
Books 1 to 3 (The DI Caslin Box Set) https://geni.us/Boxset_1
First published by Hamilton Press in 2019
Copyright © J M Dalgliesh, 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a purely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
J M Dalgliesh, One Lost Soul
