“I wonder if this is what fuelled their move out of London and into the countryside?” Tamara asked. “Perhaps his reputation took something of a hit and they left under a cloud. Eric, can you follow up on this. See if there was damage to his career. Jane Francis says he sells most of his work to clients abroad these days. In which case, there’s every possibility that isn’t necessarily through choice.”
“Should we bring him in?” Eric’s eyes flitted between them, sensing he’d uncovered something hugely significant.
Janssen looked to Tamara, chewing his lower lip. Eric was ahead of himself. On the right lines but grasping nonetheless. There was a broad gap to bridge between an allegation of sexual assault and murder, although, new possibilities were opening up for consideration. His suspicion leant towards Francis being the source of the sketches they found in Holly’s possession. Everything was far too circumstantial at this time to warrant a formal interview. “We need to speak with him again, certainly.” Judging the expression on her face, he figured she must be thinking similarly.
“We’ll head out and speak to him now, apply a bit of pressure about why he lied to us. I’m sure he will have spoken with his wife about it, so we’ll not be overplaying our hand.” Janssen agreed with the plan. “We can always make it formal at a later date, depending on anything that comes back from the lab or a witness to tie him in further.”
“He may incriminate himself,” Janssen added. “Eric, can you try and get a hold of the original complainant. Perhaps she can shed more light on what happened than you got from the officer in Canning Town.”
“I’m not sure how keen she’ll be to talk to me,” Eric said, sounding worried. “From what I gather she was threatened with prosecution for wasting police time after she recanted. There’ll be no love lost there.”
The day was predominantly overcast but every so often the clouds would break and the warmth of the spring sun would cut through reminding them of the promise of the forthcoming summer. Janssen loved Norfolk in the summertime. Sheltered on the east coast, the prevailing wind kept the edge off the North Sea and the Atlantic storms would usually dissipate over land leaving the region blessed with more sun and less rain than the rest of the country. The downside came when the prevailing winds were knocked off course from the east. On those days fog could hug the coastline for the daylight hours and whereas inland people were treated by blue skies and hot sun, those unfortunates on the coast could barely see a hundred paces in front of them. Today, spring seemed in touching distance.
“Do you think Ken Francis could have been Holly’s benefactor?” Tamara asked him, following a long pause in conversation. She had seemed lost in thought since they left the station and Janssen hadn’t wanted to intrude. Perhaps she’d been puzzling over the case. She must have been thinking along the same lines as him.
“The source of where she got the laptop?” he asked, just to clarify. She nodded. “Do you think it could be a present? Ken certainly has the money and if she didn’t buy it out of her allowance, how else could she have got it?”
She retreated into herself once more, falling silent and so he didn’t comment further, allowing her space to think. “There’s another possibility. The laptop is neither Holly’s nor a gift.”
“She borrowed it… or stole it?” He was thinking aloud now. They had no proof for any of their ideas, it was all merely supposition.
Tamara laughed but it was a sound without genuine humour. “For all we know, we’re looking at Holly as a pure innocent here. How often does it turn out the victim was somehow culpable in their own murder?” He looked over at her, feeling himself frowning at what was rather an odd comment. Regardless of how Holly may or may not behave, her baby was certainly innocent. She must have read his reaction and sought to explain. “I’m just saying Holly comes across as something of a mixed-up kid, not that that would necessarily make her responsible for what happened to her. All I’m saying is she seems to have a lot of secrets. No one really knows her, least of all us. For all we know, she could have been blackmailing Ken Francis, extorting money from him. Who knows.”
“He could just as easily be her sugar-daddy,” he bit back, possibly harsher than was necessary. “Hell, if he has a tendency towards young girls then, regardless of her being over age, we could have found a motive.”
“The model in Canning Town was in her twenties.”
“Still over half his age!”
“If that’s a pre-requisite for suspicion we will have to investigate most of the divorcees who holiday in Thailand… for the diving, obviously.”
He found himself smiling. His interpretation of what she meant may have been off target and he sensed she was prone to the darker end of the scale when it came to her sense of humour. “You know a fair bit yourself about keeping secrets, as a teenager, I mean?” She glanced across and smiled, remaining tight-lipped.
Flashing lights appeared in the rear-view mirror and he pulled to the side of the road. A fire engine flew past at speed, blasting the sirens as it approached the next junction before disappearing from view. Janssen moved off and around the next bend they came upon the turn for the unmade track leading up to the Francis house. Moments later they came upon the house itself. Smoke billowed from the rear, dark grey clouds churning into the sky that were then carried away on the breeze. The firemen were already hard at work, unfurling hoses and the appliance blocked the approach. Unable to enter the rear yard it was parked alongside the gable end on the east side of the house.
“Is that the house itself?” Tamara
