Authors: Michael Hambling
‘And have you ever married?’ said Florence.
‘No. I had several serious relationships. One came very close to marriage, but there always seemed to be that little something missing. I couldn’t go through with it. I have a man-friend at the moment, but I can’t say where it’s heading.’ She paused. ‘Looking back on it all now, it seems as though it happened to another person. A few short weeks that shaped my life. All those years ago, but sometimes it’s as clear as yesterday. I watched and worried when Sophie became a teenager, and now I worry about her daughters. Sometimes I can’t believe that it all happened. But then I look at Sophie and I know that it was all real, it really did happen. And he really did exist.’
There was a silence. Finally Florence turned to her granddaughter.
‘And you, Sophie?’
Sophie spoke as calmly as she could, but it wasn’t easy. ‘I owe everything to my mother. My whole life. There’s nothing in my life that isn’t down to her in one way or another. She loved and cherished me throughout my childhood. She got me through my difficult years as a teenager. She made me work at my studies. She encouraged me never to give up. I went to Oxford and studied for a law degree. And here I am, a detective chief inspector. I have a husband who I love dearly and two daughters, Hannah and Jade. And now I have found my grandparents. I am filled with so much mixed-up emotion that I can’t speak properly.’
‘Oh my goodness,’ Florence said. ‘Our granddaughter. For forty-three years I’ve been eaten away by bitterness. I’ve hidden it from everybody, even James. And now it’s gone — you’ve lifted it. It’s almost too much for my old body and mind to take.’ She looked at Sophie shyly. ‘Can I meet them soon? Hannah and Jade?’
‘Of course, Gran. I’m not one to hang about, you know.’
Sophie’s mobile phone started ringing. She glanced at the caller display.
‘Sorry, everyone, I have to take this.’ She walked out to the hallway, and tried to compose herself. ‘Hello, Barry. I didn’t expect to hear from you again so soon.’
* * *
The call had come into the Swanage police station at nine twenty-seven precisely. The receptionist who took the call was very clear on this point. She had just made herself a coffee to wash down her painkillers. Her younger sister’s hen party had been rather too raucous for a Monday evening. She’d drunk too much, had mixed her drinks and was now suffering the consequences. She had glanced at the clock as she swallowed the first tablet and realised she had another eight hours to get through. The ringing of the telephone jarred. She listened to the caller with increasing disbelief.
‘And where exactly are you, sir?’ She waited. ‘I’m sorry. It sounded as if you said you are calling from the top of Ballard Down. Oh, you did say that. But how can you possibly see the top surface of the Agglestone?’
She listened again. ‘Are you sure it’s a body, and not just a bit of tarpaulin or an old coat that’s caught and flapping in the wind?’
She waited for the response. ‘Okay. I’ll pass it on and get someone to check it out. Can you stay where you are until someone reaches you?’
She listened again. ‘Sorry, sir. I forgot that the weather can get a bit blowy up there. Give me your details, please, and your home address, and we’ll be in touch as soon as we can.’
She replaced the phone.
‘Oh, God,’ she groaned to nobody in particular. ‘Why couldn’t it have been a normal, quiet day?’
* * *
Half an hour later, DS Barry Marsh took the call from the officers in the squad car. He drove out to Studland village with his young assistant, DC Jimmy Melsom.
Melsom looked puzzled. ‘Sorry, sir. I didn’t catch all the details. What’s going on?’
‘Apparently there’s a man’s body lying on the top of the Agglestone. And it doesn’t look as though the death was natural. Someone out walking on the top of Ballard Down spotted it through his binoculars and phoned in. A squad car unit went out to investigate. We need to go and assess whether it is suspicious and whether forensics are needed.’
‘Sounds weird to me. Why would anyone put a body up there? Surely, if you’d killed someone, you’d dump the body in a pond, or down a pit? There are enough of those around here. Why drag it to the top of a huge rock? Are you sure someone isn’t just taking the mickey?’
‘Ours is not to reason why, Jimmy. Let’s just do what we’re told, eh?’
Tuesday, Week 1
The Agglestone lies about a mile inland from the small, coastal village of Studland. It is a huge anvil-shaped lump of sandstone perched on a mound rising from the grim sparseness of Black Heath. In winter its brooding presence dominates the heath.
Marsh left the car in a narrow lane. A crime scene tape was already stretched across the footpath leading to the rock, with a squad car parked close by. A uniformed officer came across to greet them.
‘Can’t we get any closer in the car?’ asked Melsom.
Marsh gave him a withering look. ‘And churn up the surface of the track? Come on, Jimmy, you’re a detective now. The first thing I did was to order the area to be sealed off. The paths around here are all sandy. Even just a couple of vehicles will wipe out any tracks. I just hope the squad that got here first haven’t ruined the surface.’
Melsom looked crestfallen. ‘Sorry.’
‘Morning, sir,’ said the uniformed constable. ‘We have two men at the rock itself, and the other car is at the north end of the path. The trouble is that there are so many paths all over the heath. We haven’t been able to close them all yet. Once we get another couple of squad cars here, we can seal the whole area.’
‘Any medical people or forensics here yet?’ asked Marsh.
‘No. But they’re due any time now. We’ve marked out another path so that the main track isn’t disturbed. Just look for the blue markers.’
The two detectives started the ten minute walk towards the huge rock. A chill breeze was blowing in from the sea.
‘Will we have to call in the DCI?’ asked Melsom.
‘Only if I think it might be murder. If it’s just a natural death, then we’ll deal with it locally. Disappointed?’ Marsh said.
‘Kind of. It opened my eyes a bit, being involved in a murder case. And she took the time to explain things to me. She made me feel important.’
‘You got carried away by her looks and brains, didn’t you?’ Marsh laughed.
‘All I can say is that life at the station hasn’t been the same since that case closed and she went back to HQ. Even you have to admit that. It’s all a bit boring, isn’t it?’
‘But that’s routine police work, Jimmy. In our patch a murder comes along once in a blue moon. You got hooked, didn’t you?’
Melsom shrugged. ‘I quite fancy being in charge of a murder squad.’
‘Get real, Jimmy. She’s got a law degree and a master’s in criminal psychology. What have you got? A handful of GCSEs?’
‘But I could work at it. You know, get the force to sponsor me with the Open University or something. Think of McGreedie, that DI at Bournemouth. He didn’t come up by the fast track. She thinks a lot of him too. He’s really good.’
‘Do you realise the pressure they’re under? Do you want all that strain and anxiety? I always thought you were an easy-come, easy-go sort of person,’ said Marsh.
‘Yeah, but I may not always be like that. Anyway, all I was saying is that they’ve both had an effect on the way I think about things.’
‘Well, that’s a good thing. Let’s face it, you weren’t exactly the world’s most thoughtful detective, Jimmy. So if working for her has made you see things differently, it’s all to the good.’
They approached the Agglestone mound from the east. Two uniformed officers were standing guard, and had marked out a narrow path across the mound’s surface to the base of the huge rock above it. A ladder stood propped against the side.
‘We kept our approach to that line you can see,’ said the taller constable. ‘Just to warn you, it isn’t a pretty sight up there. We didn’t go too close.’
Marsh told Melsom to remain below, and started to climb up. The ladder didn’t take him all the way to the top. He scrambled the rest of the way along a protruding shelf of rock.
At the summit, in the exact centre of the rock, a man’s body lay spread-eagled. The lower part of the body was still clothed in a ragged pair of jeans but the upper torso was bare. Marsh started by the feet, forcing himself to look at one section of the body at a time, trying to distance himself from the horror in front of him. The throat had been cut, leaving a gaping wound open to the elements. Streaks of dried blood had coagulated around the body’s open mouth. The eyes had been pecked out. Crows probably, thought Marsh. He looked away and took several deep breaths before bending down to look at that curiously gaping mouth. There was something odd about it. He took a pen from his pocket and gently inserted it. The tongue had been cut out. Marsh backed away and sat on the rock edge, looking out to sea.
A minute or two later, Melsom’s head appeared above the edge of the rock. ‘Are you alright, boss?’
‘Don’t come up any further, Jimmy,’ said Marsh. ‘We need to get a forensic cover over the body as quickly as possible in case it starts to rain. Can you phone in to county HQ and arrange it? And you may get that wish of yours sooner than you expected. It’s a murder alright. I’m going to take some quick photos up here, then come down and wait. I want you to do the same around the base. Stay on the marked path as much as you can, but get photos of the ground. I know the forensic photographer will do a far better job than us, but we can make a start in case the rain comes on before they get here.’
Within another hour the forensic team had arrived and a cover was fixed over the body. SOCO officers were inspecting the surface of the rock and all of the climbable routes to the summit.
Melsom sipped a coffee provided by one of the support staff.
‘So will the chief be coming?’ he asked.
‘She’s on leave for a couple of days. She’s in Gloucester for some reason but she’ll try to get here by evening. I’ve been on the phone to her and I’ve spoken to the superintendent at HQ. What we have to do now is visit this chap, Kirby, who spotted the body this morning. We’d better get going. You can finish that coffee in the car. Give me the keys. I’ll drive.’
* * *
David Kirby was a retired civil servant. He lived in a bungalow in a quiet suburb of North Swanage.
‘I was expecting you hours ago,’ he said.
‘Well, sir, our first priority was to secure the area, check the body and get forensics in,’ Marsh replied. ‘You were next on the list. We need to hear your account in detail, if you don’t mind. May we come in?’
‘Of course.’
He showed them through into a neat sitting room. A stout, grey-haired woman put her head round the door and asked them if they’d like coffee. Kirby didn’t introduce them. Marsh heard the sound of clattering cups.
‘So, Mr Kirby. Tell us how you came to be out on Ballard Down, and how you spotted the body.’
‘It is a body then, is it? I had trouble convincing the woman I spoke to on the phone,’ said Kirby.
‘Well, I’m sure you can understand that it isn’t every day our receptionist gets a call about a body being discovered like that. Most people phone 999 in an emergency. Why did you choose to phone the station?’ Marsh asked.
‘I wasn’t absolutely sure about it. It certainly looked like a body, but I thought that perhaps it was a trick caused by the wind or something. I didn’t want to drag the whole of the emergency services out for no good reason.’
Marsh nodded. ‘Fair enough.’
‘I take the dog out for a walk most mornings. That walk is a favourite of mine when the weather’s good enough. I left the house at about eight thirty, after breakfast, and walked up through the houses here to the path that leads up the slope. It was a bit blowy up there, but visibility was good. Once I reached the top I turned inland along the ridge path. The dog chased around looking for rabbits and I wandered slowly west. I always have my binoculars with me because we do get some overwintering birds.’
‘So you’re a keen birdwatcher?’ Marsh said.
‘Yes. I took it up before I retired, and it’s become a bit of an obsession in the last couple of years.’
‘What binoculars do you have, sir?’
‘A new set of Bushnells that Marjorie bought me for Christmas.’
‘Can I see them, please?’ Marsh said.
Kirby left the room and returned with the binoculars.
‘These are beauties,’ said the detective. ‘Your wife must know a bit about these things. Or did you tell her what you wanted?’
Kirby shook his head. ‘She’s a better birdwatcher than me. Anyway, I was a couple of hundred yards short of the obelisk. You get a clear view of the Agglestone from there and I often look at it. I could see a shape that looked like a body, but I thought it was just an optical trick. I walked on towards the obelisk and had another look. After that, there wasn’t much doubt in my mind. So I phoned the police.’
‘Was anybody else around, Mr Kirby? Up on that path? Maybe even looking northwards like you?’ Marsh said.
‘No. It’s usually busier at weekends or in summer, but midweek, at that time in the morning, I often have the place to myself. The wind was picking up, so when your woman asked me to stay where I was I lost my rag a bit. I was dressed warmly enough for walking, but not for hanging around for hours.’
‘How often do you go up there for a walk?’
Kirby shrugged. ‘Maybe two or three times week. It really depends on the weather.’
‘When was the last time?’
‘Sunday. Three days ago. The mist has been down since then. Today was the first clear day.’
‘Could you see the Agglestone then?’
‘I can’t be sure. If I did, there was nothing unusual about it. But I may not have looked across there. There are only a couple of places where you can see it, and I only bother when the dog’s busy sniffing around. If she runs on ahead, I follow without stopping,’ said Kirby.
‘We’d like you to take us up there, if you don’t mind, sir. But don’t worry. We’ll collect our Land Rover from the station and drive up. It will save us a lot of time.’
* * *
Ballard Down forms the easternmost part of the Purbeck Hills. This chalk ridge stretches from Lulworth in the west to Handfast Point at the eastern end, just north of Swanage. Later that morning, the three men were standing on a path that ran along the top of the ridge. Kirby showed the two detectives the three positions from which the top of the Agglestone could be seen. Looking through Kirby’s powerful binoculars, Marsh was able to watch the activity on and around the rock. The top was now under the shelter of a tent-like structure, but there was no doubt that a body stretched out on the surface would have been visible from this position. Melsom took some photos to give an idea of the view. They walked back to the Land Rover and returned to Swanage just as a misty drizzle started to move in from the sea. The top of Ballard Down was now hidden under a blanket of grey murk.
Marsh phoned through to county HQ and spoke to Matt Silver, the detective superintendent responsible for East Dorset, Poole and Bournemouth.
* * *
In the early afternoon they were back at the rock, talking to David Nash, the forensic chief.
‘Any clues as to how long the body’s been here?’ asked Marsh.
‘Too early to be certain, but a couple of days at least. It’s stone cold, with no residual heat at all. We’ve just about finished, so we’ll move it off the rock soon. It’ll go to the lab at Dorchester. I’ve been on the phone to Doctor Goodall and done everything he asked,’ said Nash.
‘I’m a bit surprised he’s not here.’
‘Hurt his hip playing rugby at the weekend, so he can’t climb. Don’t worry, we’ve collected all the information we can, and we’ve been filming everything live. He’s been watching from his base.’
Marsh was worried. Neither the DCI nor the senior pathologist had actually been to the scene. It left him with all the responsibility.
‘Jimmy, we need to get a house-to-house organised. We’ll have to check every home in the village in case anybody’s seen anything unusual or suspicious. Let’s get back to base and speak to Tom Rose about it. The sooner we get started the better.’
* * *
Inspector Tom Rose was the senior uniformed officer in charge of Swanage and the surrounding district.
‘Okay, Barry,’ he said. ‘We’ll pull every man back from anything that isn’t absolutely vital and send them all over to Studland. I just hope it’s worth it.’
‘We all agree, sir. The DCI has been on the phone, and she says we have to get this done as quickly as possible. The body might have been there for days, and people will start to forget. We also need a press release. The super thinks you’re the best person for that. Sorry.’
‘He’s already been on to me about it.’ Rose sighed. ‘I thought things would quieten down after that business before Christmas. I should have known better. Okay, let’s get on with it. By the way, it’s good to see you in charge, Barry, even if it is only temporary. I’ve always had faith in you.’
Marsh was taken aback. ‘Thanks, sir. That means a lot coming from you.’
* * *
Sophie Allen arrived late in the afternoon. The incident room was set up and already a hive of activity. She slipped unnoticed into the back of the room and listened as Tom Rose and Barry Marsh addressed the assembled police officers about the house-to-house enquiries. Marsh’s ginger hair made him stand out from the group of people surrounding him. Marsh was doing a good job, she thought. His slight shyness masked a shrewd brain and his careful approach had impressed her during their last case together. He finished his instructions and the officers left the room. As he passed, Marsh didn’t recognise the trim figure in the tan, leather bomber jacket and tight-fitting cord trousers.