"I'll see you later," he said and she nodded.
Closing the front door behind him, he realised he should have complimented Alice on her dress. She looked great. He considered ducking his head back inside and saying so, but thought better of it. The moment had passed and it would look like he was manipulating the exchange as an afterthought. He'd have to do better next time. Unlocking the car, his thoughts turned to what he was going to find out at Blakeney Point.
Chapter Two
Tom Janssen followed the coast road skirting Blakeney and heading onto Cley next the Sea. The iconic local landmark of the windmill stood proudly visible, and Tom knew the turning would be on his left as he approached the town's outer limits. The wetlands of the nature reserve were off to one side, a carefully-managed location both in terms of protecting the wildlife living in the salt marsh and also diverting tidal waters away from residential properties. Taking the turn, he headed along the road linking the sea front to the coast road, winding its way through the reed beds. A handful of people were visible above, walking through the salt marsh by way of one of the many raised pathways used by walkers to explore the reserve.
Arriving at the car park, behind the shingle beach acting as a natural barrier from the incoming tide, Tom saw a notable police presence. He parked the car and headed for the cordon, manned by three uniformed constables. A small group of curious onlookers had gathered. The shingle beach ran from Blakeney Point all the way around the coast to Cromer in the distance. The cordon blocked passage for anyone seeking to head out to the point where the tide entered Blakeney Harbour, some four miles distant.
The beach was frequently used by local dog walkers, birders and anglers. Once past Cley, the beach stretched out to the Point but no further, becoming a natural dead end unless you had a boat in the harbour. One of the officers recognised him, lifting the tape to allow him to pass easily. A liveried Range Rover was parked at the top of the shingle bank and one of the officers gestured towards it. From what Eric had told him on the phone, the body was to be found at the harbour's mouth. The car ride would be far more preferable than the hour and a half hike across the shingle to reach it.
From the vantage point at the top of the bank, Tom had a great view over the wetlands. The River Glaven fed into Blakeney Harbour, as did Cabbage Creek from the other side. At low tide, the retreating sea would leave tidal pools both at the harbour's edge and on the sea-facing beach itself before returning to flood the area extensively. The towns between Cley and Stiffkey could all be troubled by a tidal surge, even located as they were a good half mile from the sea, due to the low-lying level of the land. Multiple boats lay at anchor, dotted around the harbour, and the lights of Blakeney and Morton were visible in the distance as dusk rapidly approached. High tide would be upon them in a few hours and his hope was that the body's location was far enough towards the dunes to enable time for the technicians to process the scene. Eric was confident that their presence was necessary.
A small group congregating around the harbour mouth came into view. Several heads turned in their direction upon hearing the sound of the Range Rover. One of them detached himself from the group and came to meet them. It was Eric. Tom got out of the car and looked beyond Eric, seeing several forensic investigation officers setting up portable lights attached to a nearby generator. They were settling in for the evening, if not the night.
"Hi, Eric," he said, still trying to see exactly where the victim lay amongst the group. "What is it we are dealing with?"
"Hi, Tom. A dead woman." He turned and pointed to the lateral mark, a tall metal pole indicating the safe route into the entrance channel to the harbour beyond the dunes. Green buoys marked the opposing side, offering the boats their route of safe passage. "It looks like she was snagged on the marker there, probably as the tide went out."
Tom looked to where he pointed. Besides the lateral mark itself, there were also the remnants of a more substantial harbour edge, now rotting and barely visible above the incoming water. At low tide the area looked altogether very different. You could almost walk to the lateral mark itself, an open space of flat sand revealing itself each day between the sea and the dunes of around two hundred metres, more in some places. The receding tide left extensive tidal pools amongst the wet sand, often frequented by members of the seal colony that attracted visitors to those providing boat tours. As if reading his thoughts, Eric spoke.
"Those passing earlier figured it was a seal carcass. They get washed up here all the time," he said.
Tom nodded, scanning the area. "Who called it in?"
"Someone out looking at the wildlife," Eric said. "He spotted the birds picking at it. Wondered what was going on."
"What… at the body?"
Eric grimaced, confirming the answer without saying so.
"Much damage?" Tom asked.
"Yeah… mainly to the eyes."
"And who brought the body ashore?"
"Coastguard," Eric said. "They found her clothing caught on the wood at the harbour mouth. Whether it would have stayed there much longer is hard to say. I think it's a pure fluke the body wasn't washed out into the North Sea. We might never have found her."
Tom gestured towards the team processing the scene and Eric fell into step alongside him as they approached the others. Tom was keen to see what
