Tom nodded. "Yes, his firm does a lot of the site builds around these parts. He's been going for years, took the business on from his father. Why?"
"Oh, I was looking around one of their show homes at the weekend," Cassie said. "I don't want to be renting forever."
"In that case, you can look at that angle—"
Cassie's desk phone cut Tom off. She answered. Her expression clouded as she listened, snapping her fingers to get Eric's attention and then silently asking for a pen. Eric handed her a pen and a note pad. Cassie scribbled something down. Tom cocked his head and saw it was an address, before he returned his focus to Eric.
"Knock up a list of those names we are aware of who took issue with Mary, starting with the most recent. Then it's a case of tracking whereabouts and asking the questions. I'm leaning towards this being the work of a local or, at the very least, someone who knows the area. We could tell from the crime scene she was unlikely to have been killed out at the point. But someone put the body in the water, either dropping her from a boat or transporting her out there. We should consider whether it was in any way symbolic or just remote enough that no one was likely to see."
Eric concurred. "It's a trek out there, though. I can think of a dozen places that are easier to get to in terms of accessibility than dragging a body out to Blakeney Point."
"That's true," Tom said, cupping his chin with thumb and forefinger. "But Mary was a slight figure, not tall. She wouldn't have been too much of a weight for anyone physically capable, and I doubt she was carried out there. Someone will have used a boat to get across the wetlands. If she was dumped out there on the high tide, it wouldn't have been much trouble to do so unobserved and with speed. That's why I'm leaning towards a local."
"I'd better add access to a boat on to the list as well, then," Eric said.
Tom agreed. "Might be worth checking if anyone is missing one too. They could easily think a rowing boat has slipped its mooring rather than being the result of anything untoward."
Cassie hung up, turning to Tom with a frown. He waited expectantly.
"Looks like it's catching," she said. "Uniform have a suspicious death they want us to take a look at in Cley." Tom's eyes narrowed. The proximity to where Mary Beckett's body was found concerned him. "Officers on the ground think it's either a burglary gone wrong or a domestic."
Tom exhaled. "Okay. Eric, you crack on here. Cassie, you go and see if you can confirm uniform's suspicions. I'll fill in the DCI and see if I can get some preliminary advice from the pathologist regarding Mary Beckett's autopsy. Looks like it's going to be a busy few days."
Cassie rose from her chair, tearing the page with the address written from the pad before handing both it and the pen back to Eric. She was pulling on her coat when Tom caught her eye. He smiled.
"What?" she asked.
"I hope you got what you needed from the shops because it sounds like you'll not get a chance again for a while."
"Afraid not," she replied. "Like I said, house hunting. I'm in a holiday let and the landlord wants me out so he can quadruple the rent during the summer. At this rate, I'll be sleeping on a park bench by the end of the month."
This was a common occurrence many locals experienced. His only surprise was that Cassie hadn't been turfed out already, seeing as the season was already getting underway. It would ramp up over the next few weeks until peak prices were being charged.
"That'll teach you to rent a place with a sea view," he said. Cassie growled in his direction, feigning anger. He laughed. "If the worst happens, you can always crash on my boat until you get yourself sorted. I'm never there these days anyway."
Cassie scrunched up her face as she checked where her car keys were. "I'd have to be desperate."
"Thanks very much."
"No, not like that. It's just I get seasick."
"It's not anchored off the coast, Cassie!"
"Okay, I'll bear it in mind," she said, winking at him as she turned and headed out of ops, flicking her hair to one side as she went.
"Better than a bench," he muttered under his breath.
Chapter Six
Cassie Knight pulled up alongside a liveried police car. The street was particularly narrow here, even by the usual measure of coastal towns and villages built prior to the advent of the motor car. There was precious little by way of parking. The road was the main one through the village, narrowing at several points. Cassie figured this would become a bit of a nightmare once the tourist season really got into gear. Waiting for a break in the traffic, she scanned her mirrors and got out when it was safe to do so just before a lorry rumbled past. She pressed herself against the car until it passed and then hurried around to the nearside, following a footpath enclosed on each side by high stone walls.
Emerging at the other end a few moments later, Cassie found herself with a view across the reed beds towards the sea. Turning to her right, she crossed towards a small complex of buildings in and around a windmill towering above all of those present. It must have been five storeys tall and in immaculate condition with its impressive cap and sails. Great efforts must have gone into preserving it. Looking around, Cassie observed a number of gables on buildings indicative of the village's obvious trading past. Noting how far from the sea the village was, she struggled to see how this place could have been a successful seaport, but then again, much can change over a few centuries. Perhaps the
