‘What do you want?’
Kay held up her warrant card. ‘DS Kay Hunter and DC Carys Miles of Kent Police. We were wondering if you could help us with some enquiries we’re making in the area?’
He removed the cigarette from his mouth, blew smoke to one side, then narrowed his eyes before dropping a hammer into the boat.
‘What about?’
‘We understand from some of your neighbours that there’s been some suspicious activity along the coastline here. We’re trying to ascertain if the beach here is being used to land illegal entrants.’
Kay moved around the vessel to join him.
‘You been talking to that Webster up the road? He’s always saying he sees things. Can’t always take his word for granted.’ He snorted, and gestured to the wide expanse of the beach stretching out behind where they stood. ‘Mind you, smugglers always loved this coastline,’ he said. ‘Brandy, tea, tobacco – and now people. Hasn’t changed for centuries.’
‘Sorry – didn’t catch your name?’
‘Tom Harcourt.’
‘How long have you lived here, Tom?’
‘About fifteen years.’
‘Do you have an interest in the history of the place?’
‘I suppose so. I moved down here from Wiltshire after I got divorced.’
‘Thought I recognised the accent. It’s a long way from Wiltshire.’
He shrugged. ‘The house belonged to a great-uncle of mine. He left it to me in his will. I needed to live somewhere different after losing Celia.’
Kay ran her gaze over the lines of the boat. ‘Do you fish?’
‘Only for myself. Not commercially. Sometimes it’s just good to get out on the water, and away from the land. Gives me time to think.’
Kay wandered over to the barbed wire fence that separated the property from the beach and plucked at a small feather caught on one of the sharp spikes. ‘This fence a recent addition?’
‘Not much else I can do. Can’t afford one of those fancy alarm systems.’
He brushed past her and headed towards the house, then removed the cigarette stub from his mouth and dropped it into a bright blue children’s beach bucket filled with sand next to the back door.
‘Have you seen any suspicious activity recently?’ said Carys.
He scratched his ear. ‘No. But I hear bits and pieces. Webster did mention lights on the beach late at night.’
‘And you didn’t report it?’
‘What’s the point, love? Even if Webster’s not imagining things, your lot and that Border Agency bunch can’t do anything about it, can you? You stop one boat, there’ll be three more ready to take its place on the next night’s tide.’ He sighed. ‘It’s all very well going on about how they’re increasing security at the ferry terminals and Eurotunnel, but where does that leave us? I remember ten years ago round here, no-one locked their doors at night. Now we’re having stuff stolen left, right and centre.’
Kay snapped her notebook closed, unable to provide the man with the answers he sought. She fished out a business card.
‘My direct number’s on there. Mobile, too. If you do see anything, or perhaps hear something over the next few days, you’ll give me a call?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Thanks.’
Chapter Forty-Four
Kay sank into her seat and glanced at her mobile phone to check for messages before dumping it on the desk.
The incident room held an atmosphere of despair. News had quickly spread that the four detectives and the team of uniformed officers who had travelled to Amesworth had not succeeded in getting the results that they’d hoped for.
Kay herself couldn’t help thinking that it had been a total waste of time. She couldn’t understand why Harrison had insisted on her travelling to speak with Adrian Webster, when the man had very little information to give them. In fact, it would have been better use of her time and that of the other detectives if an interview had been conducted by phone instead.
Sharp paced the floor in front of the whiteboard, his impatience with the slow progress of the investigation all too evident.
Carys moved between them, handing out coffee she’d picked up from their favourite café on returning to the police station. ‘I can’t understand why someone would want to live somewhere quite so desolate,’ she said, leaning on Kay’s desk and sipping from her own hot drink. ‘God, that’s better. I couldn’t feel the tips of my fingers for a while there.’
‘You’re not kidding,’ said Kay. ‘The heater’s broken in the car Gavin was driving, too.’
She’d elected to swap places with Barnes on the way back, leaving the older detective to travel with Carys so she could catch up with Gavin and listen to his feedback about their door-to-door enquiries prior to the briefing.
She also took the time to ask how he was feeling after the triple post mortem he’d had to attend the previous day. Her instincts had been right; the young detective was struggling.
‘I know I shouldn’t get upset,’ he said, steering the car round a series of bends on the tail of Carys and Barnes’ vehicle. ‘But I can’t get the images out of my head. And the smell…’
‘You’re human, Gavin,’ she’d said. ‘And that’s what’s going to make you a great detective. Having said that, if you’re struggling and need to speak to someone about it, don’t leave it too late, okay? It can be done anonymously. No-one needs to know.’
A faint smile had crossed his face. ‘Thanks, Sarge. I appreciate it.’
They’d said no more about the matter, and now Gavin sat poised and listening attentively as Sharp addressed the room.
‘Did you learn anything useful from these people?’ said the DI. ‘I thought this Adrian Webster chap was the one who called the hotline after the press conference?’
‘He was,’ said Kay. ‘He’s a bit of an insomniac and reports seeing movement at night out on the beach, but couldn’t give us any hard evidence to suggest what he’d seen was a boat landing, and he only reports seeing one person on the beach for a brief moment. Another resident of Amesworth we spoke to, Tom
