Remember Me Read online

  ‘The only thing what you could call somewhat unusual was his shoes – they are not a very common brand here. They are made by Ecco; a Danish brand it seems. The shoes are, as you can see, fairly new, and they fit his feet well, size marked on them is forty-two which is something like UK size eight or eight and a half. I searched earlier online and they cost around 140 quid a pair. So it is possible he was a tourist since he had the Starbucks travel mug and the nearest Starbucks is in Exeter. On the other hand, those mugs are so common now, you don’t need to be a tourist to have one.’

  ‘Yeah, even I have one,’ Ford says.

  ‘He was in good physical shape for his age. His hands were well-maintained, nails clipped, no callouses so no manual labor. Most likely recently divorced, as he seemed to have had a ring on his ring finger, but it wasn’t there anymore. Apart from his wallet, he had nothing else in his pockets.’

  ‘And he had no tattoos or anything of the sort?’ Greene asks.

  ‘No, nothing of the sort. And as I said,’ Slater continues, ‘I’m not sure what caused his cardiac arrest; it could be due to natural causes, it could be due to some medication, it could be something else, but as of now, I cannot say which. I wouldn’t classify his death as suspicious as of yet, but it is unexplained. And as you already know, his fingerprints were not found in the local or central registries. I have sent his DNA to check it too but I don’t expect him to be found there either. I’ll send you the full report later today.’

  Greene and Ford thank Dr. Slater. Ford snaps a couple of pictures of the dead man's face with his mobile phone. The officers take their leave and Ford drives them back to their office.

  DI Peter Greene and DC Terry Ford

  ‘Maybe he did die of natural causes after all, sir?’

  ‘It’s possible, you heard Slater. But what was he doing in the woods, and how did he get there? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘I guess there’s going to be an inquest then?’ asks Ford.

  ‘It’s up to the coroner, but since Slater isn’t certain of the cause of death, we now have to assume so. Now we really have to find out who he was’. Greene sighs. ‘It’s not like we don’t have other things to do.’

  Ford drops Greene back at the police station, and drives to the nearest inn to find out if anybody there has seen the dead man. By late afternoon, Terry had been in contact with all the inns, B&Bs and hotels in the area, and none reported any of their guests missing or having skipped out without paying their bill. All guests have been accounted for, showing up at breakfast and having slept in their beds. No one recognized the dead man from the picture either when he had shown it around. Back in his office, he checks the Missing Persons register again.

  When he tells Greene the results of the hotel investigation, Greene complains about not having the tools for facial recognition. He’s totally in awe of all the technology he sees being used on the other side of the pond on TV programs like NCIS.

  As the Dartmoor Constabulary CID does not have those kinds of fancy computer systems, and since nobody has come forward, missing Mr. Tersel Woods, Greene decides to release the dead man’s picture to the press and asks Terry to contact his friend Jimmy at the Chronicle.

  Terry sends an email with the dead man’s photo to Jimmy to post in the paper a request from the police, asking for help from the readers.

  Friday 16th of May

  DI Peter Greene and DC Terry Ford

  The officers are trying to find the witness who reported finding the man in Tersel Woods. However, the name and address, PC Collins had written down are not correct, and the phone number does not exist. When Terry Ford asks him about the lack of information, PC Collins said that the witness, being an elderly woman who seemed to be in shock, had been mumbling and it had been very hard to understand what she’d said. The constable thought that since he had recorded the address and phone number, the officers could contact her later on if needed. The Emergency team was in a hurry to get the man out of there as they were working on trying to revive him. The witness walked away from the site.

  DI Greene calls the Emergency Services call center manager and requests the phone number from which the call was made concerning the man in Tersel Woods. The manager calls him back after a few moments and Greene gives the phone number to Ford, asking him to check it out.

  When Ford calls the number, there is no answer, no voicemail. He then goes to his computer to find out who has the number, but there’s no record found.

  ‘No info about the phone number, sir, for the witness in Tersel Woods. Does not appear to be registered anywhere.’

  ‘Guess it’s one of those prepaid ones. If the owner is an elderly person, they often don’t want to pay monthly fees as they don’t use their mobiles enough. Maybe she got it from her kids or something. Not sure if it’s worth filing a request with the phone company to get records on it yet. Let’s try to find a bit more on Monday.’

  ‘Yes sir, and maybe someone recognizes him from the paper.’

  Saturday 17th of May

  The Abbey Chronicle, page 2

  Do you know this man?

  The Faukon Abbey Police have asked for the public’s help after the discovery of a man’s body in Tersel Woods.

  (Picture on the page shows a handsome man with a lean tanned face, short brown hair sprinkled with a bit of gray at the temples, a slightly crooked Roman nose, determined jaw, a dimple on the left cheek and thin eyebrows.)

  On Monday afternoon, the man in this picture was found dead in the Tersel Woods. He didn’t have any identification on him. At this time, his death is being treated as unexplained.

  Dartmoor Constabulary Officers in Faukon Abbey are continuing their enquiries to establish the circumstances of this man’s death and are awaiting the post-mortem results. Officers are conducting searches within the Faukon Abbey and Tersel Woods area and are appealing to anyone who may have information to contact police.

  Anyone with any information about this man, is urged to contact Dartmoor Constabulary in Faukon Abbey at 1 111 111.

  Action

  The murderer climbs up the stairs, opens a door, and walks out to the ferry sun-deck. The murderer walks a bit further and finally stops with elbows on the railing. After glancing around, the murderer removes a ring and throws it in the water.

  The murderer stays by the railing, gazing towards the horizon, and for a while watches a group of small sailboats in full sail heading for home port. The sun is about to set and the murderer walks back inside.

  The wind is picking up.

  Chorus

  Monday 19th of May

  DI Peter Greene and DC Terry Ford

  On Monday afternoon, the pathologist calls DI Greene’s office. DC Ford picks up the phone.

  ‘Slater here. Good news - our extra search on sources came back and we now have the DNA results of Mr. Tersel Woods. Apparently, he had donated sperm eight years earlier in London at a sperm clinic there. His name is Eric Warner.’

  DC Ford thanks Dr. Slater, who hangs up. A few minutes later, Ford gets another call, this time from a bank manager, Colin Crane.

  ‘Hello? Are you the officer looking for information about that dead man found in the woods?’

  ‘Yes sir, I am. Do you know who he is?’

  ‘My name is Colin Crane and I’m the bank manager at the Faukon Abbey branch of Lloyds. I think I know who the man is. I’m pretty sure that the dead man in the picture in the paper is Eric Warner. Mr. Warner had visited the bank on a few occasions recently to finalize buying a property.’

  ‘How long ago was this?’

  ‘About a year ago, I think. He and his wife were planning to move here.’

  ‘Thank you Mr. Crane, we appreciate your help.’ Ford ends the call and checks the computer for address, driver’s license and additional information.

  ‘Sir, our Mr. Tersel Woods is one Eric Warner. He and his wife Estelle moved into the area less than a year ago, and they live in the Mulberry Hill area.’

&nbs
p; ‘Mulberry Hill eh? Rather well-to-do area.’

  ‘Yes, according to his driver’s license, he’s forty-four. He moved out here together with his wife. Estelle is apparently his second wife.’

  ‘Do you have an address?’

  ‘Yes sir’

  ‘Ok, let’s go.’

  It’s a quick drive from Faukon Abbey center where the police station is, to Mulberry Hill, an area with Georgian houses with large gardens.

  Peter and Terry don’t talk in the car. Both officers know it is their duty to contact next of kin, but it’s never easy. Peter silently wonders if he should have brought along a WPC, but in this day and age, is that really necessary? Aren’t we all equal? Besides, the only women PCs around were all with the canine search and rescue team.

  Ford drives very carefully. He is always nervous when his boss sits next to him.

  ‘Terry, I think we should have turned left over there.’

  ‘Ah yes, sorry sir, you’re right, I’ll turn around.’

  ‘Any children?’ Greene asks after Ford had found the right road.

  ‘None from this marriage. He has one from his first marriage.’

  They reach the address in Mulberry Hill and follow a low brick wall to the gate defined by two large blooming laburnums, the yellow flower chains appearing golden in the late afternoon sun. The house is a red brick two-story with three gables with vines and roses growing and covering large parts of the façade, nearly hiding the large bay windows on each side of the red-painted front door. A few red and white azaleas in full bloom on each side lead to the front door. They park their car next to a red little sports car. On the left side of the house there is a separate garage, big enough for at least two cars. One side of the garage is nearly covered with a blooming wisteria hanging loosely from a trellis.

  ‘Nice house. And a snappy little car too. They seem to do well’, says Peter.

  Ford raises his hand to use the doorknocker, but before he can do so the door opens and a woman, a very good looking one, fashionably dressed in an all-white outfit, red stilettoes and with a small red bag in her hand, comes out and nearly crashes into the officers. She’s quite thin, but with a good figure, in her early- to mid-thirties, with dark brown long and curly hair and a lot of carefully applied makeup with sunglasses on top of her head.

  ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ the woman asks in a slightly screechy voice.

  ‘Are you Mrs. Eric Warner?’ Greene asks

  ‘Yes, I am, what about it? I’m on my way out’.

  ‘We are from the Dartmoor Constabulary, in Faukon Abbey’. I am Detective Inspector Greene and this is Detective Sergeant Ford.’ Both show their warrant cards.

  ‘I’m in a hurry, what’s this about? Are you looking for a donation for some orphanage again?’

  ‘Ma’am, it would be better if we could come inside,’ Greene says.

  She looks at them. ‘Very well, come in then, but it has to be quick.’

  The dark hall has checkerboard black and white tiled floor. The light coming through the multicolored stained glass windows plays catch on the floor. The officers follow the red stilettos to the right to a sunny room with two sofas facing each other covered in green and yellow speckled chintz. A low glass coffee table and two easy chairs sit at the side of a corner fireplace. It’s a very pleasant room, not cluttered, only a few books on the coffee table, a couple of nice abstract paintings on the wall, and an old mirror with a heavy frame on the mantelpiece. A large oriental rug covers most of the floor. A big ficus tree in a large green ceramic pot stands in the corner next to a small side table. The large windows, adorned with long curtains on each side made of the same chintz that covers the sofas, let in streams of light.

  She points to the sofa, and asks the officers to take a seat. Greene and Ford remain standing.

  ‘Ma’am, are you Estelle Werner, wife of Eric Warner?’ asks Greene.

  ‘I already said that, get on with it, what is this about?’ She is getting irritated.

  ‘I’m afraid that we have some bad news for you, about your husband. Maybe you should sit down?’

  She looks at the officers, staggers backwards and then sinks down on the sofa.

  ‘Oh my god, what has happened? A traffic accident? He always drives too fast, I always tell him to slow down, but he likes driving. Is he going to be ok? Is he in hospital? Which hospital? I must go there.’

  She babbles on and stops suddenly, looking at both officers again. Greene looks at her and steps a bit closer.

  ‘I’m afraid the news is bad, mam. Your husband is dead. He was...’ Before he manages to finish his sentence, she lets out a wail and shakes her head from side to side, wrapping her arms around her.

  ‘Nooo, nooo, nooo, he can’t be, that can’t be true, we just moved here, surely it can’t be true, what has happened to him? Please tell me, it can’t be true.’ She is nearly shouting now.

  ‘We are very sorry for your loss, ma’am. Your husband was found in Tersel Woods. When did you last see your husband?’ Peter asks.

  ‘I saw him on Saturday, when I left for the Scillies to visit my mother who lives on Tresco; she’s the plant curator there.’

  ‘When did you last talk with your husband?’

  ‘I talked with him on Sunday.’

  ‘Not yesterday, correct?’

  ‘No, a week before. Tresco hasn’t the greatest phone connections.’

  ‘And you haven’t talked with him since then?’

  ‘No, what is this? When did he die? Oh my God, Eric is dead and you want to pester me with your questions!’ Her screechy voice takes a hysterical tone.

  Her big brown eyes are filling with tears, rolling down her cheeks. She covers her face with her hands. Ford produces an unopened package of paper handkerchiefs from his pocket, opens it, pulls one from the top and hands the package to her. She pulls out one, wipes her eyes, and blows her nose.

  ‘Would you like a glass of water or something stronger, ma’am?’

  She waves her hand towards a side table with a few bottles. Greene walks over, pours her a stiff cognac, and gives it to her.

  She takes the glass and downs it in one gulp. Coughs a bit, wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, and hands her glass back to Greene. Greene walks over and refills it, and brings it over. She takes a big sip and looks at the officers again.

  ‘I’m very sorry ma’am, but we have to ask these questions. When did you come back from Tresco?’ Greene asks her.

  ‘I came home about two hours ago, and I was just on my way to do some shopping as there didn’t seem to be any food in the house. How did Eric die? What happened to him, was it a traffic accident? What was he doing in, what did you say, Tersel Woods?’ Estelle takes another sip of cognac.

  ‘We were hoping you could answer that question about Tersel Woods. He was found there last Monday. Ambulance was called there but he was pronounced dead on site. Did he have any health issues, heart trouble?’ Greene explains.

  ‘What?’ Estelle bounces, looking at Greene, ‘He’s been dead over a week and now you tell me about it?’

  ‘Ma’am, we’re very sorry but he didn’t have any identification on him when he was found. We didn’t know who he was, so we couldn’t tell you. We only found out who he was about an hour ago,’ Greene says calmly.

  ‘I do not understand any of this. What was he doing there? Where is Tersel Woods anyway? I just can’t take it all in.’ She falls back on the sofa again.

  ‘Did he have any heart trouble, or had any other health issues?’ Ford asks.

  ‘No, Eric is very healthy!’ she spat. ‘Are you really sure it is Eric? It can’t be him; I don’t understand any of this. You must have the wrong man!’

  ‘Yes ma’am, we found out his identity through a DNA test. However, to be sure, we would be grateful if you could come and identify him. We’ll send a car for you tomorrow.’

  She drinks the rest of the cognac waving to Greene to refill it again.

  ‘Isn’t t
here anybody we can call for you?’ Greene asks.

  ‘No, there is nobody, please leave me alone now. I’ll call my mother. Oh my God, I cannot think. Go, go! Please go away and leave me alone.’

  ‘If you’re sure, of course ma’am. But I don’t think you should be alone in a time like this. Is there really no neighbor or a friend or someone we can call for you?’ Greene hands her the cognac.

  ‘Do you have any help in the house?’

  ‘No, Pratt only comes three mornings a week to clean, and she’s gone now. Please go and leave me alone. Now GO!’

  ‘Our condolences, we are very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Warner,’ Greene says again.

  Estelle starts crying, quietly now. Her makeup is slightly smudged. She sits motionless on the sofa and stares out of the window, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks, hugging herself. She doesn’t look at the officers.

  Terry and Peter look at her and each other. They take their leave, closing the door behind them.

  ‘Poor kid,’ says Peter, ‘she really looked devastated. Since we didn’t find Warner’s car in Tersel Woods, he must have had a car somewhere. Let’s see if it’s still here.’