She turned their attention to the bright green and orange sachet ofYouthBlaston the screen and Kelly told them about the wonders of the supplement industry.
‘That’s all bollocks, boss, excuse my language,’ Dan said.
Fin laughed.
‘Language excused, Dan,’ Kelly said. ‘The point isn’t if it’s bollocks or not, the point is this. Skippy here was found dead next to Water Nymph, and he was lying on top of one of these sachets.’
She held a sachet ofYouthBlastup for them.
‘Skippy and a sachet of this stuff have been sent for testing. My gut is telling me they’re linked to the Heron Hall incident, because it’s not yet on the market for public consumption, so whoever dropped it for Skippy must have been at the conference. But first we need to find out who this woman is.’
‘That girl is Millie’s age,’ Kate said. Nobody told her not to bring her personal life to work. Nobody told her to concentrate on the job and not make it emotional.
Everybody understood.
Death was personal and it was emotional.
That’s what made a good copper: compassion. Gallows humour aside, they were good at what they did because they kept a healthy distance while at the same time caring.
Life taken when it was so ungrown, so unlived, was such a shocking tragedy. It wasn’t that any death mattered more than others; it was just that somebody so full of potential and so innocent made more of an impression because she was so helpless. Young female victims always presented as powerless. No weapons, no defence, nobody to protect them. Alone. Vulnerable. Hunted.
‘Has the public appeal flagged up anything?’ Kelly asked.
‘There is news, boss,’ Emma said. ‘We might be on to something. There’s a hotel that contacted the incident room just an hour ago. It’s a small place over at Skelwith Bridge. A guesthouse. The owner rang in after seeing the story on the news, and said he’s worried about a young woman who checked into the hotel on Friday and her room is empty. A young Caucasian woman, around twenty years old, with black hair. Themanager said she looks like the girl from the sketch. She’s also an artist; it’s what she told him she was there for, to draw. With charcoal.’
It was hopeful news but they were cautious.
‘Transient workers walk out of shit-paying jobs in the Lakes all the time,’ Kate said.
‘Exactly, that’s what I thought, but the owner said that a man had escorted her there and asked him to keep the girl safe and, I quote, “anonymous”,’ Emma said, reading from notes.
‘That’s odd,’ said Kelly. ‘Who was the man?’
‘He didn’t know but said he can describe him.’
‘And?’
Emma checked her notes. ‘White, late twenties, business-looking type, fancy car.’
Kelly’s stomach felt full of clay. ‘What type of car?’
She thought of Jamie Robbins’ M4 coupe BMW sitting in the carpark at Heron Hall Hotel.
‘This is where he got excited. It was a very expensive beamer. Grey. Red interior. He remembers it so well because he poked his nose in through the window when the woman was dropped off on Friday.’
‘If you were after anonymity, why would you drop her off in a top-of-the-range beamer?’
‘You know it, don’t you? I know that look,’ Dan said.
Kelly brought up a picture of Jamie’s car on the whiteboard. ‘This is Jamie Robbins’ car. Emma, can you check with the owner of the hotel to see if he recognises it? What’s it called?’
‘The Old Man Guesthouse.’
‘Cute.’
Skelwith Bridge was a base for climbers wanting to tackle Coniston Old Man. Kelly had been up there countless times. It was one of the most beautiful and interesting walks in the Lake District. The roads were narrow but an M4 could navigate them.It would also stand out like a sore thumb. People who drove cars like that usually stayed in the higher-end establishments like the Lodore, or the Gilpin. Tourists who arrived in such style rarely sought out the havens of hiking and were more interested in the fudge parlours of Windermere. If it was Jamie Robbins’ car and he was concealing somebody – perhaps a lover – why did he show it off?
‘Things just got interesting,’ Kelly said. ‘As far as my inquiries go, Jamie Robbins wasn’t dating anyone, but let’s keep our options open. It could turn out to be a coincidence. Emma let me know if the guesthouse owner recognises the car. In the meantime if anybody has a burning desire to observe an autopsy, the bus is leaving in half an hour,’ she added.
