"I won't be long," he said.
"I could come with you… if you like?" The question was asked tentatively. Hopefully.
"No. I would rather go alone if that's okay?"
She nodded and left the room without another word.
Chapter Six
Parking space was at a premium on Cliff Road, a residential street leading away from Sheringham town centre in the direction of the caravan park, set back from the cliffs on the edge of the town's boundary. The street was a mix of semi-detached homes, some modern but most constructed at various points over the last century or prior. Building trends of the day were clear to see in the house designs. Tom Janssen pulled the car into the kerb and switched the engine off.
"I think it's the white one," he said, indicating a house three doors along.
Cassie followed his gaze. The house was a three-storey Victorian semi, painted white but the paint was lifting off in various places such was the exposure to the salt of the sea air. It was set back from the road with enough off-street space to squeeze in two cars. The bay windows on the ground and first floors were lined with heavy net curtains, restricting the view of the interior. The house faced towards the coast and there was every chance a sea view was visible if looking between the buildings opposite. The front door was made of plastic, at odds with the period of the house, but was also white and discoloured with age.
"Do you know the wife, Helen?" Cassie asked.
Janssen shook his head. "Not as far as I know. I went to school with a Helen but I doubt she would have been up for marrying one of the Kemps."
Cassie was first to the door and she pressed the bell. A tune played inside the house. Janssen peered through the bay window but nothing could be seen through the nets. The interior appeared to be in relative darkness.
"Maybe nobody's home," Cassie said.
At that moment, a shape appeared on the other side of the door and it cracked open. A set of pale blue eyes, dark-rimmed, eyed them warily.
"Yes?" she said, looking Cassie up and down.
"Detectives Knight and Janssen," Cassie said, holding up her warrant card for her to see. "We're looking for Helen Kemp."
"That's me," Helen said, opening the door wider. The wary expression remained. "What can I do for you?"
Janssen took her measure. She was in her mid-thirties, he guessed. Her hair was tied back but when loose would hang to her shoulders, blonde and almost certainly highlighted. Her general appearance was dishevelled, by circumstance and not design in his reckoning. She wore a loose-fitting shirt over a white vest and leggings.
"We would like to speak with you about a friend of yours, Devon," Cassie said.
There was a flicker of recognition in Helen Kemp's expression, her lips parting ever so slightly at mention of the name.
"Devon? What about him?" she asked, looking past them to the street. Janssen glanced over his shoulder but there was no one around.
"Could we speak inside?" Cassie asked.
"If you like," Helen said with a shrug, stepping back and pushing the door open to its fullest.
She turned away and headed into the house, not checking to see if they were following. Janssen and Cassie exchanged glances. Cassie took the lead, hurrying to catch up with her, whereas Janssen ensured the door was closed. He cast an eye around the property as he slowly followed. The interior was similar to the impression of the house from the outside; in need of some care and attention.
Helen guided them to the back of the house and a large galley kitchen opening onto a small yard. It was a dogleg tacked onto the rear of the house. It looked as if they'd knocked through into the old outbuildings that would once have housed the coal shed and outside convenience, making a larger space for modern living. Aside from that, the kitchen was in a poor state of repair. Everywhere they looked, clutter was piled up. If it wasn't newspaper or junk mail, it was dirty crockery and foodstuffs. Helen noticed Janssen's attention and addressed him directly.
"Sorry about the mess."
From the tone in her voice she wasn't sorry at all, sounding irritated, possibly by her perception of his judgement. She was wrong. People lived how they chose to. It was none of his concern.
"You said this was about Devon?" Helen asked.
"Yes," Cassie said. "When did you last see him?"
Helen shrugged. "A few days ago… last week, maybe. Not sure. Why?"
"Can you describe him to us?"
If Helen was fazed by the nature of the question, she didn't show it. Rolling her eyes to the ceiling as she thought through her response, inhaling loudly.
"Black. Fifty-something, I guess. Works out. Tattoos." She folded her arms across her chest, appearing disinterested, watching Cassie intently who was listening to the description and nodding along with every detail. "What's this about?"
Cassie looked to Janssen and he nodded his approval. Sheringham was a small town and the likelihood of two men matching such a distinctive description was unlikely. Helen's description fitted their victim to a tee.
"I'm afraid we have some bad news. The body of a man was found this morning."
Helen sank back against the kitchen worktop, her mouth falling open.
"And… you think it's Devon?"
Cassie inclined her head. "It would appear so but we are yet to identify him officially."
"Is that… what's been going on up there, this morning?" Helen asked, turning her head in the direction of the cliffs barely a hundred feet away from them, almost as if she could see through the brick wall to the crime scene. The proximity of the Kemp residence to where the body was discovered had not gone unnoticed by Janssen.
Cassie nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid so. How well do you know him?"
Helen remained staring at the wall for a moment longer. Janssen wondered if she had even registered the question. Cassie looked about to repeat it when Helen turned back to them. He thought he could see her welling up but the tone of her reply offered no hint of emotion and he questioned his assessment.
"Not well. We speak from time to time."
"Where did you meet?" Janssen asked. Helen met his eye and he held her gaze. He sensed hesitation, as if she was considering which answer would be best to give. "It's not a trick question."
Her eyes narrowed and then she broke their contact.
"Around… you know how it is."
"Is he friends with your husband?" Cassie asked.
Helen shot her a dark look but it melted away as quickly as it had come to her.
"What's Shaun got to do with this?"
"You tell us," Cassie said.
Helen looked away, tightening her arms across her midriff.
"Nothing," she said, stepping forward and appearing flustered. "Can you excuse me for a minute?"
She didn't wait for permission and brushed past them, heading into the hall, walking with purpose. Janssen watched her go but said nothing. Cassie raised her eyebrows in his direction, which he took as an unspoken indication that Helen Kemp was holding something back.
They waited in silence. It was another couple of minutes before Helen reappeared from the cloakroom, located in a converted cupboard underneath the stairs, to the sound of a flushing toilet in the background. She walked back into the kitchen but didn't make eye contact with either of them. Janssen thought her skin was flushed with a sheen of sweat on her brow. The dark rings beneath her eyes also appeared more pronounced.