viral. A lot of my students are into it. There’s talk of someone publishing the blog as a book. Ready-made fan base, you see.’
Wesley glanced at his watch. ‘Have any of the fans had tattoos of that ship symbol?’
‘Wouldn’t surprise me. Some of them are quite obsessive about it.’
‘That badge of yours – where did you get it?’
She looked down at the badge as though she was almost surprised to see it there. ‘Someone gave it to me.’ She looked at him defiantly. ‘And before you ask, I can’t remember who it was. And I’m not sure I’d tell you even if I could. I wouldn’t want to get anyone into trouble.’
Wesley resented Della’s assumption that he was a representative of some oppressive state, intent only on persecuting the innocent, but he kept his expression neutral. He was only glad that Pam hadn’t inherited her mother’s myopic nature.
Della’s eyes lit up. ‘So why are you asking all these questions? It’s about the Lady of Shalott, isn’t it? She was wearing one of the badges, wasn’t she?’
Wesley didn’t answer; confiding the details of the case was several steps too far. He gave his mother-in-law an insincere smile and walked away.
They were awaiting the results of the DNA tests and until they proved otherwise, Wesley knew they had to consider the possibility that the victim was Jenny Bercival. Had she lain low somewhere for a year, only to return to Tradmouth for the Palkin Festival? Or perhaps she’d been in Tradmouth all the time, maybe living under an assumed name. An e-fit picture of the victim in the dinghy had been produced and given to the local and national press and Wesley had to admit that the image didn’t look much like Jenny, although science would confirm it one way or the other.
DC Trish Walton was going through all the missing persons reports to see whether the dead woman matched any descriptions. There was also a team out making door-to-door inquiries, hoping someone would recognise her as a neighbour or friend, and the chief super had persuaded Gerry to make a statement on the local TV news that evening which, it was hoped, might persuade someone to come forward. Until they knew the victim’s identity for sure and learned about her life and her last movements, Wesley felt they were working in the dark.
He brought up the Shipworld website on his computer and spent ten minutes scrolling through pages of elves, ethereal maidens and dashing knights. Fantasy had never really been his thing. His search was interrupted when Gerry emerged from his office, still with the careworn look of a man with major worries. He’d been trying to contact Rosie since he got back and had had no luck.
‘I’ve managed to contact one of the people in this early music group Rosie plays in,’ he said as he sat down by Wesley’s desk.
‘And?’ Wesley wondered what was coming.
‘It’s a girl called Ursula Brunning. She hasn’t seen or heard from Rosie since the concert last night. But the group are rehearsing at St Leonard’s Church Hall at one thirty so I’m going along. Either she’ll be there or one of them might know where she’s got to.’
Wesley had an uneasy feeling that Gerry was overreacting. From what he knew of Rosie, she was unpredictable and, in Wesley’s opinion, this was probably the kind of stunt she’d pull. But perhaps he was judging her too harshly.
Gerry paused for a moment then he spoke again. ‘This Ursula told me that another girl in the group’s gone missing. Her name’s Kassia and she never turned up for yesterday’s rehearsal or the concert last night. That’s worth checking out, isn’t it?’ He looked at Wesley eagerly as though willing him to agree.
‘Did you get her description?’
Gerry shook his head and Wesley guessed he had been so concerned with Rosie that he’d forgotten.
‘We’ll ask when we go up to the church hall later.’ Wesley’s mind was working overtime. The dead girl had been wearing an elaborate
Wesley glanced at his watch. ‘Have any of the fans had tattoos of that ship symbol?’
‘Wouldn’t surprise me. Some of them are quite obsessive about it.’
‘That badge of yours – where did you get it?’
She looked down at the badge as though she was almost surprised to see it there. ‘Someone gave it to me.’ She looked at him defiantly. ‘And before you ask, I can’t remember who it was. And I’m not sure I’d tell you even if I could. I wouldn’t want to get anyone into trouble.’
Wesley resented Della’s assumption that he was a representative of some oppressive state, intent only on persecuting the innocent, but he kept his expression neutral. He was only glad that Pam hadn’t inherited her mother’s myopic nature.
Della’s eyes lit up. ‘So why are you asking all these questions? It’s about the Lady of Shalott, isn’t it? She was wearing one of the badges, wasn’t she?’
Wesley didn’t answer; confiding the details of the case was several steps too far. He gave his mother-in-law an insincere smile and walked away.
They were awaiting the results of the DNA tests and until they proved otherwise, Wesley knew they had to consider the possibility that the victim was Jenny Bercival. Had she lain low somewhere for a year, only to return to Tradmouth for the Palkin Festival? Or perhaps she’d been in Tradmouth all the time, maybe living under an assumed name. An e-fit picture of the victim in the dinghy had been produced and given to the local and national press and Wesley had to admit that the image didn’t look much like Jenny, although science would confirm it one way or the other.
DC Trish Walton was going through all the missing persons reports to see whether the dead woman matched any descriptions. There was also a team out making door-to-door inquiries, hoping someone would recognise her as a neighbour or friend, and the chief super had persuaded Gerry to make a statement on the local TV news that evening which, it was hoped, might persuade someone to come forward. Until they knew the victim’s identity for sure and learned about her life and her last movements, Wesley felt they were working in the dark.
He brought up the Shipworld website on his computer and spent ten minutes scrolling through pages of elves, ethereal maidens and dashing knights. Fantasy had never really been his thing. His search was interrupted when Gerry emerged from his office, still with the careworn look of a man with major worries. He’d been trying to contact Rosie since he got back and had had no luck.
‘I’ve managed to contact one of the people in this early music group Rosie plays in,’ he said as he sat down by Wesley’s desk.
‘And?’ Wesley wondered what was coming.
‘It’s a girl called Ursula Brunning. She hasn’t seen or heard from Rosie since the concert last night. But the group are rehearsing at St Leonard’s Church Hall at one thirty so I’m going along. Either she’ll be there or one of them might know where she’s got to.’
Wesley had an uneasy feeling that Gerry was overreacting. From what he knew of Rosie, she was unpredictable and, in Wesley’s opinion, this was probably the kind of stunt she’d pull. But perhaps he was judging her too harshly.
Gerry paused for a moment then he spoke again. ‘This Ursula told me that another girl in the group’s gone missing. Her name’s Kassia and she never turned up for yesterday’s rehearsal or the concert last night. That’s worth checking out, isn’t it?’ He looked at Wesley eagerly as though willing him to agree.
‘Did you get her description?’
Gerry shook his head and Wesley guessed he had been so concerned with Rosie that he’d forgotten.
‘We’ll ask when we go up to the church hall later.’ Wesley’s mind was working overtime. The dead girl had been wearing an elaborate
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