didn’t seem the type of man who cared much about what others thought of him. She looked at her watch; she didn’t have time for this.
*
Sangster shut his notepad and started walking again. He didn’t look at the British Consul, but he was conscious of her keeping pace beside him. It had never occurred to him that the Consul would be a woman, although he didn’t know why. She looked young, in her mid-30s perhaps? Attractive too. But he wasn’t warming to Jessica Turner. He’d caught her disbelieving stare at his sketches. Still, he wouldn’t hold that against her; most people reacted in the same way. No, it was more her impassive face and eyes. She was way too cool and aloof. Mind you, he had given her a blast for walking into that sealed-off corridor earlier. Maybe she was still put out about that? “Drawing helps me focus on the precise details,” he heard himself say. “Once I’ve drawn something, it stays in my memory.” He wondered why he felt the need to explain.
She didn’t reply, which irritated him even more.
Reaching the jetty, he jumped down onto the sand and stared at the spot where the body had been found. He felt comfortable being at the crime scene again. “This is where Ellen Chambers was found.” He pointed to a flat area. “Lying face down, with her left cheek exposed. Her face was covered with cuts and bruises. She’d been badly beaten.” He looked up at the Consul. Did she just shiver? He knew she was listening to his every word because she kept jotting notes in her pad.
“Was it a very violent attack?” she asked.
“Frenzied.” He watched for another reaction, but there was none this time.
“So what do you think happened?” she asked.
“Well.” He pulled himself back up onto the jetty and stood next to her. “We reckon she was attacked up here. She put up a fight. They both went over the side and struggled in the water. The killer held her face under and drowned her.” He nodded, as if reinforcing all the details in his mind and looked at the Consul. Her eyes were unreadable, and he found that somehow unsettling.
“A lad called Danny Burton found her. He works here. Gardening, beach attendant. That sort of thing. Cocky little shit.” He glanced back, apologetically. But the Consul wasn’t listening to him now, she was staring down at the spot where Ellen Chambers had died. And this time, he definitely saw her shiver. Not quite the Ice Queen, then.
Reacting to her mood, he said nothing. He looked all around, breathing in the atmosphere. But when he turned back, the Consul was studying him, which made him feel uncomfortable. “Who might have done something like this?” she asked.
“Difficult to say at the moment.”
“What’s your gut instinct?”
He wasn’t used to being asked that. “Well,” he hesitated, “we haven’t found a handbag or mobile, so robbery could have been a motive. But she still had her expensive watch on.”
“A sex attack, perhaps?”
“No immediate sign of that. But we’ll find out for sure at the autopsy.”
She nodded. “Can I have a copy of the autopsy report when it’s ready?”
She was back to her calm, assured self now. A closed book. “Yes,” he replied.
“So, you said the attack was frenzied, Inspector. If we could rule out robbery and sexual assault, what else could we be looking at?”
He didn’t want to commit himself. “It’s difficult to say at the moment.”
But she wasn’t satisfied with that. “You said the attack was frenzied. Doesn’t that suggest the killer was in a rage?”
“Or high on drugs or alcohol.”
“Mm.” She didn’t look convinced. “Could Ellen Chambers have known her killer, do you think?”
“Maybe she had an appointment with him?” He was still furious about that diary.
His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her. “There were no appointments in her diary for Sunday night, if that’s what you’re getting at.” The Consul settled her cool gaze on him. “There was a lunch on
*
Sangster shut his notepad and started walking again. He didn’t look at the British Consul, but he was conscious of her keeping pace beside him. It had never occurred to him that the Consul would be a woman, although he didn’t know why. She looked young, in her mid-30s perhaps? Attractive too. But he wasn’t warming to Jessica Turner. He’d caught her disbelieving stare at his sketches. Still, he wouldn’t hold that against her; most people reacted in the same way. No, it was more her impassive face and eyes. She was way too cool and aloof. Mind you, he had given her a blast for walking into that sealed-off corridor earlier. Maybe she was still put out about that? “Drawing helps me focus on the precise details,” he heard himself say. “Once I’ve drawn something, it stays in my memory.” He wondered why he felt the need to explain.
She didn’t reply, which irritated him even more.
Reaching the jetty, he jumped down onto the sand and stared at the spot where the body had been found. He felt comfortable being at the crime scene again. “This is where Ellen Chambers was found.” He pointed to a flat area. “Lying face down, with her left cheek exposed. Her face was covered with cuts and bruises. She’d been badly beaten.” He looked up at the Consul. Did she just shiver? He knew she was listening to his every word because she kept jotting notes in her pad.
“Was it a very violent attack?” she asked.
“Frenzied.” He watched for another reaction, but there was none this time.
“So what do you think happened?” she asked.
“Well.” He pulled himself back up onto the jetty and stood next to her. “We reckon she was attacked up here. She put up a fight. They both went over the side and struggled in the water. The killer held her face under and drowned her.” He nodded, as if reinforcing all the details in his mind and looked at the Consul. Her eyes were unreadable, and he found that somehow unsettling.
“A lad called Danny Burton found her. He works here. Gardening, beach attendant. That sort of thing. Cocky little shit.” He glanced back, apologetically. But the Consul wasn’t listening to him now, she was staring down at the spot where Ellen Chambers had died. And this time, he definitely saw her shiver. Not quite the Ice Queen, then.
Reacting to her mood, he said nothing. He looked all around, breathing in the atmosphere. But when he turned back, the Consul was studying him, which made him feel uncomfortable. “Who might have done something like this?” she asked.
“Difficult to say at the moment.”
“What’s your gut instinct?”
He wasn’t used to being asked that. “Well,” he hesitated, “we haven’t found a handbag or mobile, so robbery could have been a motive. But she still had her expensive watch on.”
“A sex attack, perhaps?”
“No immediate sign of that. But we’ll find out for sure at the autopsy.”
She nodded. “Can I have a copy of the autopsy report when it’s ready?”
She was back to her calm, assured self now. A closed book. “Yes,” he replied.
“So, you said the attack was frenzied, Inspector. If we could rule out robbery and sexual assault, what else could we be looking at?”
He didn’t want to commit himself. “It’s difficult to say at the moment.”
But she wasn’t satisfied with that. “You said the attack was frenzied. Doesn’t that suggest the killer was in a rage?”
“Or high on drugs or alcohol.”
“Mm.” She didn’t look convinced. “Could Ellen Chambers have known her killer, do you think?”
“Maybe she had an appointment with him?” He was still furious about that diary.
His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her. “There were no appointments in her diary for Sunday night, if that’s what you’re getting at.” The Consul settled her cool gaze on him. “There was a lunch on
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