“Did you look Joanna Duncan up online?” asked Tristan. “No one has any clue what happened to her. She disappeared from that multistory car park on Exeter High Street on a busy Saturday evening. There’s something creepy about it. That she vanished into thin air.”
“Once I got past all the stories about her disappearance, there was some interesting stuff about her career as an investigative journalist,” said Kate. “She published an exposé on the local member of Parliament at the time, Noah Huntley. He was taking cash bribes to award council contracts. The national tabloids picked up the story, and it triggered a by-election, and he ended up losing his seat.”
“When was this?” asked Tristan.
“Six months before she went missing, March 2002. It will be interesting to find out from Bev what other stories she was working on back then.”
The day quickly warmed up, and for the first time that year, they didn’t need the car heater. They drove along the coast for a few miles, and the Jurassic coastline was breathtakingly beautiful. Kate never took it for granted. It was almost Californian compared to the rest of the UK. They left the coast road to join the motorway for the next forty minutes and then rejoined the coastline when they turned off toward Salcombe. The road wound its way down toward the bay, and the houses became grander. Fishing boats and yachts sat on the calm sea, which reflected the sun and the blue sky, like plate glass.
Tristan’s GPS indicated they should take a right turn, which led onto a narrow private road. The trees thinned out, and they reached a high white wall and a gate. Tristan opened his window and pressed a button on a console.
“What did she say Bill did for a living?” asked Tristan.
“I don’t know. Something lucrative, I presume,” said Kate.
“He likes his privacy. Look at those huge trees,” he said, indicating a line of giant fir trees behind the wall. The console crackled.
“Hello. I can see you. I’ll just buzz you in,” said Bev’s voice through the intercom. The gate opened, sliding soundlessly to the right. Kate looked up and saw a security camera mounted in a glass dome on one of the gate pillars. They followed a winding paved driveway, which sloped up through a landscaped garden with palms, fig trees, and an assortment of evergreens. The path was lined with beds of evenly spaced tulips in red, white, yellow, and purple, all of which were about to open. The driveway passed along the side of the house and then turned sharply to the left and opened out to a paved parking area. Up close the back of the house was a huge, minimalistic white box. There were no windows at the back, just a small oak door.
They got out of the car, and the door opened. Bev Ellis appeared with a very tall man. Kate noted he was almost half a head taller than Tristan, who was just over six foot. Bev barely came up to his shoulder. There was a strong resemblance with Bev and her daughter. Like Joanna, she was rail thin, with the same strong nose, full-lipped mouth, prominent cheekbones, and blue eyes, but Bev’s skin was pale and crepey, and she had huge bags under her eyes. Her hair was cut in a short pixie crop, which accentuated her prominent ears, and it was dyed a little too dark. She wore a pair of pink Crocs, jeans, and a grubby green fleece. She looked completely out of place, like a lottery winner or a poor out-of-town relative. Kate banished the unkind thought.
Bill looked younger than Bev, thin and muscular with thick gray hair clipped short in a buzz cut. He wore a faded Rolling Stones T-shirt with a gold necklace lying over the top, stonewashed jeans with ripped knees, and bare feet. He had a kind, ruddy face, emphasized by beautiful green eyes.
“Hello,” said Bev. She offered a trembling hand to Kate. “This is Bill. I want to call him my boyfriend, but we’re a bit past it for all that, ha ha. We’ve been together forever.”
“Nice to meet you, Kate, and you too, Tristan,” said Bill, shaking their hands. He was calm in comparison to Bev. Any nerves Kate had about being judged evaporated.
“I hope you found the ’ouse okay?” Kate went to answer, but Bev carried on, “Of course you did. You’re here! Come in.”
The front door led right into a huge open-plan living area. Floor-to-ceiling glass lined the front of the house, looking out over a terrace and the bay. The floors were white marble with delicate threads of gold and black in the pattern, and there was very little furniture in the vast space. To the left was a living area with a large concrete fireplace. A long white leather sofa sat on top of a white carpet, facing a flat-screen television above the fire.
To the right was a spacious, minimalist kitchen, which was completely white and devoid of anything on the surfaces. Kate wondered how long Bev had been living here. She was a chatty, nervous person. From Kate’s experience, chatty, nervous people liked their space filled with furniture and knickknacks, mirroring their need to fill empty silences.
“Bloody hell, look at this view!” said Tristan as they moved closer to the windows. The sweeping panoramic vista looked out over the bay and the sea, uninterrupted by any other houses. The far-off undulating rocks of the Jurassic coastline stretched away into a haze of blue. “Sorry. Excuse my language.”
“It’s okay, love. I think my first words were fucking hell when I first saw it!” said Bev. There was an awkward silence, and Bev blushed. “Sit down; I’ll make some tea and coffee,” she added, indicating the sofa.
Kate and Tristan sat down and watched as Bill and Bev got things ready. Bev had trouble opening the white cupboard doors, which sat flush, with no handles, and twice she got the wrong door for the fridge.
“How long has she lived here?” murmured Tristan. Kate shook her head and busied herself with getting out her notebook and pen.
A few minutes later, Bill and Bev brought over a large french press of coffee and a three-tiered cake stand filled with cupcakes and biscuits. Bill sat on the floor, with his back against the stone fireplace. Bev perched on the edge of an armchair next to him.
“Do you mind if we take notes?” asked Kate, indicating her notebook. “Just so we don’t miss anything.”
“Yeah, go ahead,” said Bill. Bev pushed the plunger down on the french press and poured the coffee. The room was suddenly thick with silence. Bev’s hands were shaking so badly that Bill had to take over, passing Kate and Tristan their cups.
“It’s all right,” said Bill, leaning forward to rub her leg. Bev grabbed his hand. Hers was tiny and birdlike in comparison.
“Sorry. I’ve been dreading having to talk about this,” she said, pulling her hand away and wiping it on her trousers. “I don’t know where to start.”