"Good man," Janssen said, turning and heading off to catch up with Cassie. "Keep me posted if anything turns up," he said over his shoulder.
Chapter Two
Meeting Cassie at the shack, just as the coffees were being handed over, he took out his wallet and passed the assistant a ten-pound note before the DS was able to protest. He accepted his change and scooped up his cup, gesturing towards the nearby steps behind them. They led up to the car park above, servicing the flats overlooking the town. From there they would cross a couple of streets and pick up the path running the length of the cliffs. It was a popular walking route with locals and tourists alike, giving access to stunning views along the coast towards Cromer.
They started the steep climb up the steps and if Cassie thought they should have taken the car and driven round, then she didn't mention it. Janssen's towering frame made the ascent relatively steady for him, taking the steps with ease, whereas Cassie was barely five foot six tall and approaching the halfway point her breathing became more laboured but she didn't complain or let up.
Janssen reached the summit first, stopping to look back across his hometown. The skyline must have changed little in years with many of the buildings in the centre dating back centuries. The whites of the distant breakers reflected the early morning sunshine and the ever-present gulls searched for food. Behind him to his right was an art-deco building housing flats overlooking the sea. It had seen better days and was in need of a lick of paint, but the sea air routinely battered everything in the area. Necessary maintenance was a constant.
"Take your time," he said with a grin as Cassie joined him at the top, stopping to draw breath.
"I thought Norfolk was supposed to be flat," she said.
"It is. Apart from the high parts. Come on."
Janssen took the lead and Cassie fell into step alongside him.
"What did you make of our victim?" he asked her, glancing sideways, sipping at his coffee. It was strong, slightly bitter and as good as he'd come to expect.
Cassie thought about her response before she responded. He liked that. It demonstrated an analytical character, thereby making her less likely to be impulsive. This was his own favoured approach although he had been known to deviate from it on occasion much to the chagrin of the DCI, Tamara Greave.
"No wallet or mobile," Cassie said. "Back in Newcastle, I'd have suggested a robbery but not here. Not him."
"Why not?" Janssen said. He agreed but chose to play devil's advocate. "People get mugged here as well, you know. It's not as idyllic as outsiders seem to think."
"I don't doubt it but not that guy. Did you see the size of him? I'd bet he would give you a run for your money if you went up against one another," she said, referencing Janssen's height and build; far larger than the average man standing at well over six feet tall and powerful in stature. "Albeit before he died…" she added swiftly, "Less so now, clearly."
Janssen smiled. "He's a big guy, certainly."
"Yeah, tall and muscular with it," Cassie said, sipping at her own drink before meeting his eye as they walked. "And I reckon he knew how to handle himself. Did you see the tats on his neck and forearm?"
Janssen had to admit, he hadn't noticed the arms and didn't see the body art as significant.
"What of it?"
"I've seen similar. If I had to say, I'd wager they're fashionable on the street. Something of a marker to make you stand out from the crowd."
He wasn't so sure. The victim was in his fifties, not a twenty-something seeking street credibility with his local gang.
"The ink didn't look new," he said.
Cassie shook her head.
"No. He's carried that for a while. Doesn't fly with the suit, though either. That's not off-the-rack kit, you know. A bloke that size would struggle to get a suit to fit. His was tailored. Same with the shirt. He didn't pick that up in one of the high-street chains. That sets him a cut above the average bloke. But his palms are rough which speaks to manual work of some kind. That doesn't fit with his clothing either. And did you see any facial injuries…… other than the head wound, obviously?"
Janssen shook his head.
"Exactly. There were some scratches on the backs of his hands and a graze to the right side of his face but I'd argue that was down to the fall rather than the result of a physical confrontation with someone else. There was no swelling to the face or hands, no cuts to his knuckles, and the suit was in good shape aside from what you might get from taking a swan dive from a hundred feet. No, he wasn't involved in any sort of scrap."
"Then what do you think he was doing up there? If he wasn't forced over the edge then we must consider this as a suicide," Janssen said.
"Doesn't fit with any jumper I've ever investigated," she said with a shrug. "How many suicides have you been to where they're as smartly turned out as he was? If they have the impulse in the privacy of their own home, maybe, but those I've seen where someone has taken themselves out of their way to do it… no, they are usually a mess which is only magnified upon impact."
Janssen exhaled loudly, accompanying the action with a dry laugh and a shake of the head.
"You have a way with words, Cassie. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."
She grinned at the comment.
"It has been said before." She cast a sideways glance in his direction, almost apologetic. "If his wallet and mobile are in the car, then I might lean back towards a suicide but if not then I think we'll need to dig deeper. I've never attended a suicide where they've ditched their ID before doing themselves in so as to go out anonymously."
"It takes all sorts," Janssen said, tilting his head to one side and observing her. She noticed, suddenly becoming self-conscious.
"What?"
She was nervous, worried she'd said too much or perhaps not enough?
"Nothing," he said, not wanting to heap too much praise on her assessment.
Her take was not too dissimilar to his own despite his efforts at debate. Tamara had been right; there was something about Cassie Knight that elevated her from the rest of the crowd, making her the stand-out candidate for the position. It was just as clear to him what Tamara saw in her. He could imagine the two of them sitting alongside one another, the same assertive character, the same intellect at work. Only a week into her new role, a promotion no less, and settling into an unfamiliar region and she didn't seem out of place at all.
"Seriously. What is it?"
He shook his head and smiled, turning his gaze to the sea beneath them. A red fishing trawler lay at anchor a little way off the coast. Cassie didn't press him further as they walked. Conversation dropped as they reached the top of the shallow incline, giving them a sweeping view of the vista along the coast towards Cromer.
"Damn," Cassie said.
"What is it?"
"It's beautiful," she said, stopping to admire the view. "My mam said it was lovely down here but she didn't do it justice."
"Your mum has visited?"
She shook her head.
"No, she's from here… originally, like, you know. Well, not here exactly, but Norfolk in general. She always said she wanted to move back one day but the old man would never wear it. Too far south, he always said."