“He tried it on, yeah. I don’t know how far it went.”
“Did she report it?”
“No. Way too frightened. Wouldn’t let me take her to the police or anything, not even tell her family. So, I thought I would.”
Looking her in the eye, he knew he was getting to the truth. She made a false allegation. What he couldn’t tell was if it was driven by revenge or, in part at least, a misguided attempt at seeking justice for the girl. “But you dropped it.”
“I did, yeah.” Amanda looked down at the floor. “Probably shouldn’t have done what I did anyway. Don’t get me wrong, he deserved it. I’m not proud of it… making it up like, but why I backed out is worse than that… I needed the money. Five grand is a lot to someone like me.”
“Ken paid you off?”
“Not him.” She shook her head. “The woman. His wife.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Tamara listened patiently to Eric’s description of his trip to London, tuning out the young constable’s embarrassed recanting of offending the locals. She was certain it wasn’t as bad as he feared. If the detective was as sensitive and easily hurt as Eric thought then he was certainly in the wrong profession. Few people joined the police to be popular. The wider society may well respect the police but on a day to day basis, the people they moved amongst were quite the opposite. Her thoughts about Ken Francis were merely confirmed by what Amanda confessed to Eric. What she hadn’t seen, and was surprised about, was Jane’s reaction. Although, she shouldn’t have been. The evidence was there to see. What else was she capable of? Apparently, others were thinking similarly.
“If Jane Francis is prepared to pay someone off to keep her husband out of court, particularly in light of knowing what he’s up to, what else might she do?” Tom Janssen asked. Eric’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t tell if he was in agreement with Tom or not.
“I’m intrigued to know more about this falling out she had with Callum McCall,” she said. There was more to Jane than she let them see, dropping a cloak of ambiguity on every meeting they’d had so far. She had the sense that she was quite capable of using her femininity when required. A skill wasted on herself, forcing her to fall back on restrained silence. Next time she would have to allow Tom to take the lead with her. She may unwittingly open up to him and he might get a better result.
“Should we go for the direct approach?” Janssen asked. She shook her head. A woman like that wouldn’t respond well to being forced. She would be more inclined to retreat further. After all, it was only hearsay. There was something else behind his question. A sense of frustration. She shared it. They had been investigating Holly’s murder for nearly a week now and although they all felt the killer was known to them, putting a face and a name let alone a motive to them, seemed tantalisingly just out of reach. They could make a circumstantial case against several people but that was it.
“I think we should be as prepared as we can be before we take it to her,” she said, scanning the information board on the wall. This community was so entwined within itself. The charade of privacy, of keeping to your own affairs seemed practically impossible. Someone knew something that would break this case, she was certain. An elderly couple were as familiar with Jane’s personal affairs now as much as they were a decade ago. Any gaps in the actual detail could be filled in with exploratory gossip. How anyone could keep a secret here was beyond her and yet, here they were, grasping. “Let’s try to find out who’s been sending these notes to Ken. I can’t help but think it’s all tied in somehow.”
“Any ideas on how we do that?” Janssen asked. “The phone number on the card in the newsagent is attached to a prepaid burner. All I’ve got is the serial number of the handset and that it was purchased here in Norfolk. Credit top ups are done in cash and not online nor with a credit card.” He sounded despondent. It was the first time she’d heard him so. “The company said they’ll provide a list of locations where the top ups were purchased. If it’s local then we may get lucky with a member of staff remembering the buyer, if it’s frequent enough.”
“Any chance of CCTV?” Janssen’s response was irritating. He laughed.
“This is still Norfolk.” He must have seen her reaction. His expression changed slightly. “If he went through one of the bigger supermarkets then it’s possible but we’ll have to wait and see. Similarly, the handwriting analysis came back as inconclusive.”
“In which case, we have to consider that all options are still open.” A pause. All eyes were on her. “We’ll have to chalk them off the old-fashioned way. Tom, you and me will go to the school and see if we can see a sample of Mark’s handwriting. Then, we can go to his father and have him write it out if needs be. These two are the most likely even though I accept we don’t fully understand Callum’s role in all this.”
“What do you want me to do?” Eric asked expectantly.
“Head over to the surgery. We told Colin Bettany we wanted a sample of his handwriting. You can pick up an example of Marie’s while you’re there as well, if only to rule them both out.”
Tamara did up her coat almost to the top, wishing she’d brought something thicker with her forgetting she hadn’t been home in ten days. The heaters in the car were set to cool and she reached over shutting the vents facing her. Janssen didn’t appear bothered, concentrating on the road ahead. Didn’t he feel
