Tom absently rubbed at his chin with his forefinger and thumb, casting a sideways glance at Eric.
"Did you? Harass her?" Tom asked, fixing Rutland with a stare.
He sat forward, resting his elbows on the table in front of him and drawing himself upright. "I'm many things, both now and in the past, but I'm not a danger to women, Inspector Janssen. Not now and not then." He sat back, relaxing and rolling his tongue across the inside of his cheek. "Even if she was a bloody awful woman."
"You know these notes give you a motive, don't you?" Tom said.
"If so, then I'd be unlikely to pass them to you if I'd done her in, would I?"
There was logic to the point.
"I would like to take these with me, if you don't mind?"
Rutland focussed on Tom, there was distrust in his expression. "Why would you want to do that?"
"If only to analyse the handwriting to see if it was Mary who left them for you. If so, then it points to her state of mind. The type of things she got up to. It could help lead us to her killer." Tom watched the man intently. Rutland held the eye contact, unflinching. "What do you say?"
"Take them."
"Thank you. Just one more thing, Mr Rutland. Where were you the night before last?"
Rutland looked to the ceiling, his mouth open as he thought about it.
"Here, mostly. I took the old girl out for her evening walk around seven, but the weather wasn't nice. Then we came back."
"You can't have made it far," Eric said, looking at the dog lying in the bed. "I mean, she doesn't look like walking would be her thing anymore."
"True enough. We were only out for a half hour, tops. And no, before you ask, I didn't see or speak with anyone who can confirm it. Unless Mrs Nosey next door saw me come and go."
Tom smiled. "What is it with her and your dog?"
"She mentioned that did she?"
Tom nodded.
"Goes back years. She caught her taking a pee on her alliums… didn't care for it and tried to shoo my girl away with a rake. Dogs don't like that much."
"Did she bite her?" Eric asked.
Rutland shook his head. "A growl is more than enough for that one. I think she's more scared of dogs than you are, young man."
"Who says I'm scared of dogs?" Eric didn't sound like he could convince himself, let alone anyone else.
"Thank you for your time, Mr Rutland," Tom said, as Eric gathered the notes together and produced a folded-up evidence bag from his pocket.
"If you're looking for someone who Beckett fell out with, it wouldn't hurt for you to take a look at Daniel Crowe. If anyone had it in for her, then it was him."
Tom assessed the suggestion. Was it an attempt at distraction or an expression of civic duty from a man who had never done so in the past? Rutland appeared to read Tom's scepticism well.
"Don't take my word for it. The two of them were going at it outside the Blakeney Village Hall a while back."
"What was going on?"
"I don't know. Some community gathering. Plenty of people saw it, not just me."
"What were they arguing about?"
Rutland shrugged. "Beats me. But he was mighty angry when he left, and Mary looked very pleased with herself."
Tom smiled. "We'll look into it."
Chapter Fifteen
Tamara Greave looked around the complex as they walked. The residences were arranged in a U shape around a central garden. The beds were well tended and flowers were in bloom. A number of faces could be seen peering out at them from windows on both the ground and first floors. The buildings were flat-roofed and clad in white boards. From a distance they looked wooden but as they walked around them it was obvious they were plastic. Easy maintenance.
"Ever get the feeling you're being watched?" Cassie said under her breath.
She smiled. "New faces will always raise an eyebrow or two."
"True enough."
They were in a warden-controlled development, a halfway house between a care home and private residences. Nothing around them was ostentatious. The grounds were pleasant but functional with an outdoor seating area located in places of shade. Passing a wooden bench, it looked rotten and in need of painting. The cladding on the properties also had a build-up of dark green residue in patches, often confined to the north-facing sides, those that stayed out of the sun. Tamara counted perhaps eight residences, imagining them to be self-contained apartments and occupied by single people rather than couples.
Michael Rowe lived in a ground-floor unit. They came to the door and Tamara rang the bell. To the left of them was a set of patio doors which opened directly onto the communal garden. The threshold was set at the same height on the inside and out, thereby making it safer and easier for the occupant to make use of it. Someone was inside, Tamara could see him through the window in the corner of her eye. Cassie went to press the button again but she stopped her.
"He's coming."
It took a while. A figure appeared on the other side of the door, visible through the obscured glass. He was shuffling forward and the process of unlocking the door took a while. A pale-faced man peered out at them through the gap. Having read his file, Tamara was quite shocked at the physical appearance of the man. He was tall, probably taller even than Tom Janssen, but he stood in front of them stooped over, one hand gripping the door handle as if it was all that kept him upright. His head was now at Tamara's level.
"Mr Rowe?" Tamara asked, brandishing her identification. "DCI Greave and—"
"Police. Yes, I guessed as much," he said, eyeing the two
