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  No one needed to answer. Instead, all three men did what DCI Reeve was doing then – they watched the phone in her hand until it pinged and vibrated once more. The detective chief inspector read the message and sighed because with a name it becomes a little more real – soon you will be face to face with people who share that name, and you will begin to feel their pain.

  Then Reeve said, ‘This could be her. Michelle Simms.’

  Chapter Four

  Shirley Salmon tried to reach Ted on the shortwave radio three times before she realised he hadn’t put the handset on charge overnight. When he was doubling up as one of the land train drivers, the work as her handyman and caretaker was too much for him now – the moment was approaching when she would have to make a difficult decision. He’d been with her for many years but secretly she hoped he would choose the train-driving life to see him into and past retirement, and then she could bring in some new blood with a clear conscience.

  But it must have been Ted who opened the security gate early this morning to let the police through. She had been sleeping here in the flat behind the office and he should have let her know what was happening. A few minutes ago, Mrs Collins, one of her regulars, had knocked on the door to complain that the police were everywhere down on the footpath, at least three cars she said, and plain clothes as well, and where else was she supposed to take the dogs? Shirley had resisted the temptation to point out that if one turned right instead of left, the coastal path would take her guest to Essex if she fancied a longer walk than usual – instead she placated her with the reassurance that the police were probably dealing with a report of an unexploded World War Two shell. They still turned up occasionally and Mrs Collins wouldn’t want her girls trying to retrieve one of those, would she?

  Shirley considered getting into the truck and driving down to the footpath herself, but her nephew was staying with her, and she wouldn’t leave him on his own in the flat. So she sat down at the desk and looked at the day’s list of changeovers – whatever it was going on down there, she’d find out soon enough. This wasn’t by any means the first time the emergency services had used the site to access the beach and the pinewoods.

  The television in her sitting room had its channel changed. She listened and recognised the theme tune of CBeebies. After several seconds of listening, she said, ‘You alright, Olly?’ and he said that he was. Shirley Salmon smiled, but it was a smile of that strange, sad sort because it was a man’s voice now.

  Eight changeovers today and she still only had one cleaner on a Friday, so she would have to get out the mop and bucket herself later this morning. It seemed that cleaning was too demeaning even for the young migrant workers that are supposed to be everywhere now. Not that she minded hard work. That’s what had built this business from nothing, more than twenty years since…

  A car pulled up outside. She looked at the strategically positioned mirror on the back wall of the office and saw a man and a woman get out of a silver Audi. The man, the passenger, walked around to the woman and they looked towards the office and spoke quietly for several seconds. No prizes for guessing who they are, Shirley told herself, but two CID, for a shell uncovered by the spring tide last night?

  The woman entered the office first, plainly in charge, and introduced herself as a detective chief inspector, so it definitely wasn’t a bomb on the beach. Shirley held out a hand because her manners were old-fashioned, and the woman took it with little hesitation, and then Shirley shook hands with the other one, who was a detective inspector and less sure of himself.

  ‘It is Mrs Salmon, isn’t it?’ the woman said, and then, ‘Good. I’m afraid we’re going to need a few minutes of your time.’

  She offered them a seat and took her own again behind the desk. It was something serious, you can just tell from the way people are hesitating a little, wondering how to say it. The woman, the detective chief inspector, was a little above average height but there was nothing of her, not by Shirley’s own ample standards – she looked as if she needed feeding up. Late thirties or maybe forty, and no sign of a wedding ring – a career woman. As for the detective inspector…

  ‘Mrs Salmon, I’m afraid it isn’t good news. Early this morning we received a report of a body near the coastal footpath. It was found by someone staying on your site. You haven’t been told any of this?’

  Just a shake of the head – she would know them, whoever had had the misfortune to find the body. Every single guest comes and goes through this office, and she meets them all, every season.

  The detective chief inspector went on, ‘I see. Well, the report was correct. There is a body and we already have several officers at the scene.’

  Shirley Salmon said, ‘Yes. I’ve heard that much. Who is it? Do you know?’

  The woman glanced at the man before looking back at Shirley – she was choosing her words with care, too much care for this not to be about to get much worse.

  ‘Mrs Salmon… We’ve not yet identified the body but we have received this morning a missing person report. These two things might not be related but… But we do need to have a look at the list of people who are at present staying on the site. Please.’

  While Terek studied the list on the desktop, Reeve said to Shirley Salmon, ‘How many caravans do you have on the site?’

  ‘Forty-eight. But only forty-five are in use this week. Three are having the gas lines replaced.’

  ‘Forty-eight? That’s a lot of work, isn’t it, managing all those?’

  ‘It’s not just me. I have a few staff. And we’re not big at all, not these days. We’re the smallest independent operator in the business now. The major chains have bought up most of the sites.’

  Reeve could see Terek spinning the wheel on top of the mouse, going back to the beginning of the list before going through it again. He hadn’t found the name they were looking for.

  ‘Mrs Salmon, does your list contain the names of everyone staying on the site?’

  ‘No, that’s a list of the people who made the booking. We keep the paperwork separate from that – I still ask visitors to send me a paper form with a signature as a backup. That lists the names of the party. They’ll all be filed in the cabinet there.’

  She pointed to her right. Reeve thought for a moment and then said, ‘I see. As we haven’t found the name we were given yet, I’ll need to make a phone call to get the name of the person who contacted the Hunston police this morning. I’m sorry – we should have had that already.’

  Shirley Salmon seemed to understand why she hadn’t simply been told the name of the missing person. She said, ‘It’s not a problem You take as long as you like.’

  Reeve decided to wait until Terek had completed the second check of the list, and then she saw the site owner look up as someone appeared in the doorway behind. She turned and saw a young man standing there. He stared directly into her face for some seconds and then his attention went to Terek before it finally rested with Shirley Salmon.

  Shirley said, ‘Say good morning, Oliver. We have visitors.’

  He frowned, and Reeve could see he was cross with himself because he should have known what to do without being told. Then he nodded and said ‘Good Morning. Would you like some coffee? Or would you like some tea?’

  Terek had looked up now. Reeve checked with Shirley before she said to Oliver, ‘A cup of coffee would be very nice, thank you.’

  The youth made an odd gesture towards her, a sort of half-bowing motion, as he said ‘One cup of coffee for the lady’, and she realised that he was joking as he played the part of a waiter. She smiled back at him.

  Shirley Salmon said, ‘Olly, put out three mugs and fill the kettle. We’ll sort out the milk and sugar in a little while.’

  He went back into the flat, and Shirley said, ‘My nephew. My younger brother’s son.’

  Reeve nodded, and then Shirley added, ‘He stays with me for a week or two every summer. You know, gives them a bit of respite.’

  Terek was back at the
list, coming to the end of it again. Reeve watched him at work for a moment or two before she said to Shirley, ‘How old is your nephew?’

  ‘Eighteen last month.’

  ‘And is it Down’s?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Terek looked up and said, ‘Not here, ma’am. I’ve double-checked.’

  Reeve said, ‘Alright, I’ll contact Hunston. They’ll have the name of the woman who got in touch this morning.’

  Again Shirley Salmon was listening, taking notice but not asking questions. Reeve said to her, ‘It was a woman who called. She said they were staying on this caravan site and that her sister hadn’t come home last night.’

  ‘Sisters? Excuse me – if I could just…’

  She was talking to Terek then, and he made way for her in front of the desktop. She read down the list, found something and then went across to the filing cabinet. A few seconds later she pulled out a form and handed it to Reeve.

  The booking had been made by a Mrs Michaela Fletcher. Staying in number 14 with her were her two daughters, Zara and Phoebe, and her sister, Michelle. Reeve studied the form for a long time, gleaning everything she could but also giving herself time to think because the next hour was critical. Then she looked at Terek and said, ‘Call Hunston and get that name anyway, just so we’re absolutely sure. Then get a line open to Lake. Tell them I want an incident room up and running in half an hour.’

  Simon Terek had reached the door to the office, making for the car because things needed to be said in those calls that were best not heard by members of the public, when Reeve spoke to him again.

  ‘And Simon? Find out who’s in on Family Liaison at Lake this morning. If it’s Ann Crisp, tell her I’d like her out here ten minutes ago.’

  When he’d gone, the two women looked at each other, and then Shirley Salmon said, ‘So it’s the sister who’s been reported missing? And you’ve found a body.’

  ‘We’ve found a body and it looks as if we know which of them it is, Mrs Salmon. But in these situations, it’s best to assume nothing until you have all the facts. That’s why I asked the detective inspector to call and check the name of the person who made the report this morning. Once we know that, we’ll have to go to the caravan and ask some difficult questions.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know what to say. In more than twenty years, I’ve never… Never anything like it. And dear God, there are children in that caravan.’

  Alison Reeve didn’t respond, but she said a short, silent prayer that Ann Crisp would be on duty this morning. Not only was she the best person to have in a situation like this – once they had told the remaining sister what had happened, they couldn’t leave her until support had arrived, and that would mean herself staying with them, away from the rest of the investigation when, as the senior investigating officer, she should be everywhere else. It was a given that she would be SIO on this, wasn’t it? But she also needed to speak to Allen as soon as possible, in case DCI Cara Freeman was in the building.

  The adrenaline had kicked in now but she’d felt tired again this morning after another poor night. And she could actually do with some of the coffee that Shirley Salmon’s nephew was supposed to be making. Surely Terek had had time to finish those calls? She fought down the impatience and irritation, focusing now on the computer screen and its list of guests on the Pinehills site this week.

  ‘Mrs Salmon?’

  ‘Shirley is fine, dear.’

  ‘Thank you. You said forty-five caravans are occupied this week. When do those people leave the site? Which day?’

  ‘Ah, well I can tell you that it’s eight today. We like some Friday changeovers to spread the weekend load a bit. The rest will be gone by ten o’clock tomorrow morning, apart from anyone staying for a fortnight. I think there are only two or three of those this time. I can easily check.’

  School holidays, so lots of those caravans will have mum and dad or grandma and grandad, or even both. There could be anywhere between thirty-five and fifty men staying on the site, and Pinehills is the nearest centre of population to where the woman’s body has been found. And in twenty-four hours they’re just about all going to disappear to heaven knows where. People come from all over the country for a week on the Norfolk coast. Finding them all again, if they needed to, would take days and be a case coordinator’s nightmare. She would need Allen’s agreement at the very least but there might be a way to avoid most if not all of that.

  ‘Shirley, could you print that list for me? Two or three copies if possible. And at some point today, we’ll need to see the paper booking sheets.’

  ‘Of course I can. Do you want photocopies of the booking forms as well? My office girl Nikki is in at nine, she can do that.’

  ‘Yes, please. The eight who are leaving today first, if that’s OK.’

  Shirley was on her feet already, heading for the cabinet that held the forms. She pulled open the drawer, ready to make a start, then turned and said, ‘I couldn’t do it, your job. You’ve got to go there and tell that poor woman the most awful thing, haven’t you?’

  Yes, almost certainly, because there was little doubt in Reeve’s own mind that one of the two sisters was lying dead not a mile from this office. It would be wrong to say one ever gets used to it, but she had brought those tidings several times in her career, and she’d seen the light dying in the eyes of those who received them. A violent and untimely death is often only the first act in a tragedy, not its ending. What was it he used to say? The ripples go on forever?

  ‘No, I couldn’t do it… We used to have one of your people staying here, one of our private owners. We do the bookings for them when the van isn’t in use. He never talked about the job, though. Came here to escape it I’d say, and now this. I don’t know what he’d make of it, I’m sure. David. A lovely man…’

  Reeve stayed silent. She had guessed from what Waters had said that Pinehills might be the site where DC had kept his caravan, but this was hardly the moment to begin reminiscences that could go on for at least an hour, though Shirley Salmon was looking at her and inviting it. Where the hell is Terek and where the hell is the coffee? It’s nearly eight o’clock, and if…

  A tray with three mugs appeared slowly in the doorway to the living space beyond the office. Oliver Salmon inched his way forward, his gaze fixed on the coffee, his tongue out between his lips in concentration. The spectacles he wore made him look rather studious, and the most distinctive features of Down’s syndrome were hardly evident in his face from some angles. He went on towards his aunt’s desk and managed to place the tray there without spilling any of the drinks. There was a little jug of milk and a bowl of sugar with a spoon.

  Alison Reeve was still sitting in the chair. She leaned forward to admire his work and thanked him. He stepped closer, placed a hand on her shoulder and said, ‘You’re very welcome. I will fetch some biscuits.’

  When he’d gone, Shirley said, ‘I’m sorry. He can be a little too familiar. Now that he’s eighteen, he considers himself a grownup and a bit of a ladies’ man.’

  ‘No need to apologise – his manners are perfect. I can think of plenty of men who could learn a thing or two from Oliver. Is he still at school?’

  Shirley halted her collection of forms for a moment, pleased at the interest someone was showing; most people were more guarded in their reactions to Oliver than the detective chief inspector.

  ‘He left in June. Now he’s expecting to get a job soon.’

  ‘And will he? He seems…’

  ‘Quite high functioning – that’s the official term, according to my brother. He might, if they find an open-minded employer. He’s been volunteering in a charity shop for a year.’

  ‘Really? Good for him.’

  ‘The British Heart Foundation in Norwich. They think the world of him. He has one of the heart problems himself, that go with his condition, but that’s not why he does it. He just loves to think he’s helping out, doesn’t matter with what…’

  Reeve stirred milk int
o one of the mugs of coffee, and thought, the crosses some people have to bear. Did they know before Oliver was born? Did they have the amniocentesis and decide to go ahead? Shirley had said he was her younger brother’s son, and Shirley wasn’t old, so perhaps it wasn’t age-related. There’s an increased risk for older mothers, though, especially if it’s the first-born. She’d done the reading herself, in one of those times when you re-evaluate your choices and the options that still remain, not long after John Murray and Maggie Henderson had their baby. But another year had slipped by since then.

  The outer door opened and Simon Terek came back into the office. He looked first at Reeve, and the nod she gave him meant go ahead, say what it is you need to say.

  ‘The report was made by Mrs Michaela Fletcher. The call-handler took a contact phone number and said that as the missing person was over eighteen – you know, the usual thing. No one has been in touch with her since. I have Mrs Fletcher’s number, just in case she isn’t at the caravan.’

  Shirley Salmon had stopped collecting the forms again, and was watching as Reeve considered what she’d been told. Then Oliver came back with another tray, this time carrying two plates with two kinds of biscuits – ginger nuts and custard creams. Custard bloody creams, Reeve thought, remembering the never-ending tales of the biscuit wars between Smith and desk-sergeant Charlie Hills.

  She said, ‘Alright. That’s cleared up one thing. What’s happening in Lake?’

  ‘John Wilson is getting the incident room organised. I rang Ann Crisp myself. She isn’t due in until two o’clock but she’s on her way here now. She said I might have prevented the murders of two children. The school holidays seem to be having an impact…’

  Reeve looked at Shirley Salmon and said, ‘Sorry about that. It wasn’t meant to be in bad taste. Sometimes we-’