"They brought her clear of the expected high-water line," Eric said, "figuring we'd need to investigate."
It couldn't be helped, but the body being where it now lay was nothing to do with the investigation. If anything, placing it where they had could well contaminate the evidence with sand or stone now present where it hadn't been and confusing things. However, it probably didn't matter much in the grand scheme of things. A body left in the water for any length of time would destroy any remaining trace evidence in no time at all.
The assembled group parted to allow them to come closer. Tom dropped to his haunches to examine the body. As Eric had said, it was a woman. Elderly by the look of her. Time spent in the water, leading to discolouration of the skin, could make determining the age troublesome, but he guessed she was easily in her early eighties. Despite being wrapped in either a thick woven shawl, or a blanket of some description, she appeared frail. Her skin was white and drawn tightly across her face and hands. The latter were bony and skeletal. One of the eyes was unrecognisable, the birds attacking it just as Eric described. There was also a wound to the left side of the head, just beyond the hairline behind the temple. Her hair was a variety of competing shades of grey, much of it bordering on white if you looked past the detritus of sand and grit caught amongst the strands. Several lengths of seaweed clung to her face and neck, giving off a distinctive odour. Tom spoke without averting his eyes from the body, continuing his examination.
"How long has she been in the water?"
"Not long."
Tom glanced up as Dr Williams came alongside him, lowering herself to his level with some difficulty. He reached out and offered his hand to help her steady herself, and she accepted gratefully.
"I should imagine she went into the water at some point last night or thereabouts," she said. "The water has affected the liver temperature by rapidly cooling the body, as you can imagine it would, making a precise estimation at this point difficult but I would say—" She ran her eye the length of the body, scrunching up her nose as she thought hard. "No more than twenty-four hours, perhaps less."
Tom's brow furrowed. "That's a nasty head wound. Likely pre-mortem?"
"I would say so, yes. And before you ask, no, I don't know if it's the most likely cause of death."
Tom's face split a half-smile. "Looks pretty extensive though."
Dr Williams agreed. "I dare say it would have caused her some problems when she went into the water. A blow like that would disorientate if not leave her unconscious and liable to drowning."
"Any possibility it was accidental? From a fall, perhaps?" Tom asked, assessing the shawl was indeed what she was wrapped in rather than a blanket, opening up the possibility of an accidental explanation rather than anything more sinister.
"Anything is possible, but without knowing where she was prior to being found it would be pure conjecture. It's one hell of a thump on the head though."
Eric piped up from behind them. "Coastguard reckon there's no way she would have been drawn out of the harbour had she fallen from the path, or gone in from the beach for that matter," he said, looking along the stretch Tom had approached from. "Falling from any of the walking routes through the marshes she wouldn't have been sucked out beyond the harbour mouth and if she'd fallen in the shingle and been drawn out by the receding tide, then she'd be well on her way to Scandinavia or continental Europe by now."
Tom thought on that for a moment. "So, if we're to consider this an accident then we're looking at her pitching overboard as an explanation?"
Eric nodded.
"Any boats adrift in the harbour or spotted out there?" Tom said, looking at the inky darkness of the horizon.
"Nothing reported, no, but I'll check again."
"What about abandoned cars, either in Blakeney or Cley?"
"Anything currently in the beach car parks has been accounted for. In the towns or villages themselves, it's a little harder. I've arranged a door to door to see if anyone has seen anything abandoned."
Tom turned his attention to her clothing. It was substantial. She wore hiking boots and he could see thick socks protruding from above the ankle-line. Her trousers were also suitable for spending time exposed to the elements. He recognised the brand. Dr Williams followed his gaze.
"Rambler not a sailor, if you ask me."
Tom nodded. "My thoughts as well."
"The shawl is intriguing, though."
Tom was inclined to agree. The shawl was woollen, knitted. It was possible he was confusing man-made fibres with natural materials, but that wasn't the issue. It was a garment that might be thrown on over a top, perhaps on a late-summer's evening, when a full coat would be too much, or perhaps for knocking around the house in just to take the chill off. However, it wasn't something you'd expect to offer a great deal of protection from the elements, a far cry from the choice of trousers and footwear. It wouldn't be what you'd expect to wear aboard a vessel of any size at sea. Beneath the shawl was a simple shirt, buttoning up the front to a collar fastened to the top. It was cotton, thick, but nonetheless not suitable for wear at sea. Every instinct suggested this was not a boating accident.
"Any sign of other injuries or evidence of a struggle?"
Dr Williams frowned. "No injuries to speak of that I can see with the naked eye. Obviously, once she's back in pathology and stripped, there might be something."
"But?"
"But two of her fingernails on her left hand are broken. The index and the forefinger," she said, leaning over and pointing them out to him.
Tom narrowed his gaze, angling his head to see better.
