Missing on Dartmoor Read online

  “Well, I assume she would have told her parents and Alice.” He glanced at Alice and, once again, she nodded her agreement.

  “Also, I remember now, we were out with friends on the Tuesday evening in our club, that’s Bovey Tracey Rugby Club, after training the night before last. Most of our friends are connected with the club as players, spectators or helpers. They might not have known that we planned to meet in The Rock, but they certainly knew that Mary would be on the moor. She had said to the group that she was looking forward to climbing to the top of Haytor the next day, after finishing lunches at the hotel, to get some fresh air and exercise. She asked if anyone knew what the weather would be like? Some of our farming friends usually know what sort of weather is forecast, as they mainly work outdoors.”

  “And did they?”

  “Yes. Dick Sutton, who farms on South Dartmoor, told her that it would be overcast with the threat of rain later that night. Mary just shrugged as if she didn’t care about the weather. She prefers it to be dry, but, strangely, really likes walking in the rain.”

  “So, from what you have just said, quite a few people knew where she would be the following afternoon?”

  “Well, I suppose they did, but I haven’t given it much thought because of the worry about …”

  He stopped mid-sentence and looked down, struggling to keep his emotions under control. Not for the first time, Alice breathed a deep sigh and wiped away another tear that had trickled down her cheek. King paused to allow the quietly distraught boyfriend time to regain his composure before continuing.

  “I will need the names and addresses of all those who were in the club on the Tuesday night.”

  Tom looked quizzical, “Why? You suspect they could have had something to do with her going missing?”

  “At present, I don’t suspect anyone, but we are dealing with the unexplained disappearance of a young woman. I need to get as many details as possible that will, hopefully, lead to her being found safe and well. Someone may have a snippet of information, which could be crucial to establishing her whereabouts.”

  The inspector wasn’t being disingenuous, but he knew from past experience, a missing person investigation can end up as a murder enquiry. He asked Tom Bowers to give all the names to his sergeant at the end of the interview.

  He continued with his questions.

  “Have you any idea what she was wearing yesterday afternoon?”

  “She usually wore walking boots, jogging bottoms, a Barbour waxed jacket, a scarf and possibly gloves, as it can get chilly in the wind on top of the tor. Oh, and her yellow bobble hat; yellow was her favourite colour. Sorry, I mean is her favourite colour.”

  His correction came too late for Alice as at that point she completely broke down, sobbing into her already wet handkerchief. To save further embarrassment, she got up and quickly headed for the downstairs toilet.

  The dispirited boyfriend was also asked a number of other questions, including his precise movements from lunchtime on the Wednesday up until he rang the emergency services. He said he was at work and left a little earlier than normal so as not to be late to meet Mary: the detectives had no reason to disbelieve him. Eventually, the inspector was satisfied he had all the information that was available and thanked Tom for remaining lucid throughout the interview, at what, King acknowledged, was a very difficult time for him. He was asked if he was in a fit state to provide the list of people who were in the rugby club on the Tuesday evening. He really didn’t want to talk anymore as he was very tired, having hardly slept at all the previous night. Then he remembered what the inspector had said to him, “Someone may have a snippet of information, which could be crucial to establishing her whereabouts.” That strengthened his resolve and after making coffee for everyone, he sat on the sofa in the lounge.

  Harris sat opposite him with her notepad. The inspector sat in an adjacent armchair and just listened. Tom was a very intelligent fellow, being a solicitor, who had a remarkable grasp on what his friends did and their personality traits. He spoke fluently with very few pauses, and they were only to allow the sergeant’s notetaking to keep pace with what he was saying.

  He started listing the people who were at training that night, acknowledging that some of the information could be out of date. He also supplied their contact details: he wouldn’t normally disclose them, but he didn’t see why they would object to the police having that information. His mobile was the source of the numbers, pausing only briefly to read them out. He was careful to distinguish between factual information and what were merely his observations about their character strengths and foibles. He knew so much about them as he was a great listener and was always interested in what other people did in their daily lives: his training as a solicitor also helped as, in his job, he was always having to listen to and make judgements on clients.

  Harris hadn’t mastered shorthand, but her notes were concise and correctly included all that was said. Fortunately, she was a quick writer with neat handwriting; she used a forward slash to separate the points he made:

  MARY CRANSON: Dating TB for a year/Younger twin sister of Alice/Joint manager with Alice of parents’ hotel in Bovey (The Bedford)/Loves walking and occasionally running/Very popular with everyone/Always has time for people/Sonia Hill is her best friend/She is just adorable (TB comment).

  PAUL BETTERIDGE: Rugby coach for Bovey Tracey and larger than life figure/Runs his own window cleaning business called Clear Panes/Coaches the team and takes training every Tuesday during the season/Picks the first team with Tom, but has no favourites/Always ready with a tale or a joke/Respected by the players, but not that popular with the women in the group for some reason/Nickname of Betters.

  RACHEL BETTERIDGE: Daughter of Betters/In her early twenties/No boyfriend/Works at Bovey Garden and Leisure in Bovey Tracey/Looks after the rugby kit/Runs the line on match days occasionally/Helps behind the bar and in the kitchen after matches/Tom B thinks she fancies him, but attention not reciprocated.

  JACK LACEY: Unmarried and unattached/Local estate agent working for Marker and Makepeace based in Ivybridge/Agency run by a husband, the owner, and wife team/Covers sales and lettings in most of South Devon/Best friend of TB since schooldays/Plays rugby for the club.

  HARRY SUTTON: Unmarried and occasionally attached/Younger brother of Richard/Farmer’s son/Plays rugby for the club and is its star player/Helps to look after a large flock of sheep, a smaller number of beef cattle, and some Friesian cows at Quarry Farm/Responsible for morning milking (TB knew this as he always made training, whereas his brother, who did evening milking, was often late)/Popular, easy-going guy, rather immature for his age/Slim build and quite tall unlike his brother/Has an eye for the ladies.

  RICHARD SUTTON (aka Dick): Unmarried and seldom attached/Older brother of Harry/Together the brothers run their father’s farm/Responsible for evening milking and as a result is sometimes late for training/Plays rugby for Bovey/Not that tall, but stocky and very strong/Cornerstone of the club’s scrum/Unlike his brother, has a rather surly disposition/Part of, but peripheral to, the group of friends.

  JOSH INGRAM: Unmarried/Junior doctor at Derriford Hospital in Plymouth/Plays rugby when not working/Popular within the group/When serious injuries have happened during a game, he is particularly useful as he is part of the trauma team in A&E/Has been dating Alice Cranson for the last six months and they seem to be getting extremely fond of each other/Josh drives one of the early Triumph Spitfires and he loves his car.

  GEORGE KEMP: Unmarried/Girlfriend is Stella Bovis/Car salesman at Cameron & Wise used car dealership in Plymouth/Sold Mary her Punto/Plays rugby for the club when he can get a Saturday off work/Fairly well liked by the group of friends, but not by all, as he is considered to be a little too smarmy.

  BRIAN CANTWELL: No steady girlfriend/Plumber by trade running his small business with the assistance of an apprentice/Good rugby player and very fit/Ofte
n sorts out plumbing problems in the clubhouse free of charge.

  SONIA HILL: Under 20 years old/Unmarried/Studying physiotherapy at Plymouth College/Acts as a medic for the club/Considered to be ‘one of the lads’/Big hearted and flirtatious /Had dalliances with a few players/Good friend of Mary.

  ALICE CRANSON: Twin and devoted sister/23 minutes older than Mary/Unmarried and in a relationship with Josh Ingram that is getting serious/Works at parents’ hotel in Bovey (The Bedford) along with Mary/Not particularly a rugby person/Happy to socialise and be with the group after training and match days, mainly because she knows she’ll see Josh.

  STELLA BOVIS: Girlfriend of George Kemp/Receptionist at the same car dealership as George/Socialises with group, but only because of her boyfriend’s connection/Nice girl, but fairly quiet.

  As an afterthought, he also mentioned someone else. The reason why he initially didn’t include this person was because he wasn’t actually in the rugby club that Tuesday evening. The sergeant’s list continued:

  DYLAN PEARCE: Another farmer and rugby player/Particularly friendly with George Kemp/Couldn’t make training that Tuesday as, not for the first time, he was working late/A bit hot-headed and headstrong/Likeable rogue!

  Tom Bowers waited until Harris had scribbled down the last character trait and when she looked up he shrugged to indicate he had finished. King had sat quietly in his armchair and listened intently while the boyfriend expertly listed the people and their predilections. He spoke and two pairs of eyes swivelled in his direction.

  “You missed someone Mr Bowers.”

  “Have I? Who?”

  “Yourself. If I asked your friends, what would they say about you?”

  “They know I am devoted to Mary. We met at Plymouth Uni and we’ve been together for over a year. I am a practising solicitor in Plymouth and I’m happy to offer free legal advice to any of them. I hope they would say I’m a nice guy and a good friend. I think the players respect me as their captain and Betters is happy to have me as a player and skipper of the first team.”

  Harris thought it prudent not to write when he was speaking about himself: she later added the self-assessment to her notes.

  Both detectives were in awe of him. Not only for the manner in which he recited information about himself and his friends in such a detailed, self-effacing and candid manner, but also the fact that inside he must be hurting very badly.

  DS Harris also noted the need to speak with the bar person at The Rock Inn, not so much to check on Tom’s account of the previous afternoon – although she would do that – rather to confirm that the couple were regular clientele. She also wanted to get any observations that may help the investigation.

  Following Alice’s tearful exit, DI King decided that the interview with her could wait.

  “I will need to speak to Alice, but can see she is very distressed. It’s now nearly noon; I’ll call back here at two o’clock and speak with her, as well as giving you an update. That will still give you some more time to go back to searching the moor, if that’s what you plan to do.” Tom Bowers nodded to confirm that was his plan. The inspector was fairly sure he would be wasting his time, but he wasn’t about to tell him.

  *

  A few miles to the north of Widecombe-in-the-Moor, the searchers had reached Hound Tor, which was a heavily-weathered granite outcrop, but less prominent than Haytor. The small party of people split into two, with three searching to the west of the tor and two to the east. They agreed to meet on the other side of this sprawling group of huge boulders. Half way round, close to a sheep-worn path, one of the searchers nearly slipped on the grass-covered bedrock that formed the ill-defined way. As she steadied herself, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a small black object lying in some bracken that skirted the track. If she hadn’t slipped and had to look down to regain her footing and balance, she would have missed it. Even so, the dark blob didn’t initially give her cause to look closer. She walked on a few paces relieved that she hadn’t fallen; then she suddenly stopped. She retraced her steps, bent down and picked up the object: it was a glove.

  *

  As they left Tom Bowers house, DS Harris took a call on her mobile. DI King continued walking to their car. The sergeant called after him.

  “Sir, I think you need to hear this.”

  He ambled back to where she was standing with her phone still to her ear.

  “A woman’s glove has been found about two miles to the north west of Haytor, near Hound Tor, which is not far from Widecombe-in-the-Moor. It was lying on the edge of a track used by walkers and livestock. It appeared to have been recently dropped as it was still dry.” The inspector was now back alongside Harris.

  “Ask for a detailed description of the glove and also tell them to mark the exact spot where it was found.”

  There was no indication that this was Mary’s glove, but if it was, King knew this could be vital evidence. His sergeant asked the question and gave the instruction before pausing whilst listening to the reply; she didn’t have long to wait.

  “Not so much a glove, sir, more a mitten. Lady’s black sheepskin mitten with the top inch turned back showing the fleece.”

  They returned to the house and rang the bell. Tom opened the front door.

  “Sorry to trouble you again sir, but when we were talking earlier, you mentioned what you thought Mary would have been wearing. You said that she had a hat, scarf and gloves. Could you describe what the gloves were like?”

  “Well, I said gloves, but they were mittens really, because Mary felt that they offered her better protection against the cold.”

  “Can you describe the mittens?”

  “Yes, they were black and I suppose you would call them a sort of sheepskin.”

  “Mr Bowers, I promised to keep you informed of any developments. My sergeant has just received a report that a mitten, fitting the description you have just given, was found to the north west of Haytor. This will now be taken for forensic examination and I will let you know in due course if indeed it belongs to Mary.”

  As Tom registered this new information, he showed just how raw his emotions were. Although this was not in any way conclusive proof that something terrible had happened to her, he put his hands to his face and wept.

  *

  When the detectives left the house, Tom was still in a distressed state. They sat in their car and King opened his sweet bag and put a sherbet lemon in his mouth without offering one to his sergeant: she knew she should wait in silence. He stared in to the distance and after a brief pause he requested that she arrange the printing of two duplicate signs to be erected immediately near the Haytor car park, dictating what he wanted. He was very aware that drivers, travelling at about thirty or forty miles an hour, had limited time to assimilate information, so the message had to be succinct. He also knew that people can take in words in lower case quicker than if they are shown in capital letters. Fortunately, the road at that point was straight with no other distractions for drivers.

  The signs, with black lettering on a yellow background, were to be placed about fifty paces before the lower car park in both directions on the left side of the road that skirted it:

  MISSING PERSON INCIDENT HERE

  Wednesday afternoon 1st February

  from 3 o’clock onwards.

  Did you see any person or vehicle in this car park?

  If so, please ring 101 now.

  The inspector was not overly optimistic that this would lead to any sightings of significance, but, nevertheless, thought it was worth trying: his pessimism was to prove ill-founded.

  THREE

  ‘Woman Missing on Dartmoor’ the headline in the Western Morning News announced on Friday morning, while its sister paper, the Plymouth Herald, preferred, ‘MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE ON THE MOOR’.
Either way, Mary had not returned and had not been found. The story had broken too late to catch the Thursday editions, which meant reporters had more time to flush out details and try and speak to those involved, including friends and searchers. Both papers speculated as to what had happened to her, but were careful not to suggest attributable wrongdoing at this stage, as defamation can be costly. King knew that reporters have their role to play in informing readers of the potentially tragic happening, but they can be regarded by the police, and by the family of the potential victim, as unnecessarily intrusive: as some of Mary’s friends were about to discover.

  *

  While Detectives King and Harris were wrestling with the mysterious disappearance of the young woman from the surface of Dartmoor, back at the main police station in Plymouth, Detective Constable Sam Dyson was working feverishly on the case papers relating to a series of thefts of vehicles from farms around the moor, and sometimes beyond the boundaries of the national park. She had plenty of reports to peruse as the list of stolen items was mounting. There was little doubt in her mind that these thefts were being perpetrated by the same person or people, rather than being copycat crimes. She had to discover the link between them and posed a number of questions to herself: if she assumed it was more than one person, where was the gang based? How did they target the farms? What were they doing with the stolen vehicles? This questioning would have gone on, but the telephone on her desk interrupted her self-inflicted interrogation. She reluctantly answered the call and after a few seconds slumped back in her chair.

  “Not again!” the exasperated detective said to no one in particular. She had just been told by a uniformed colleague that there had been another theft from a farm on Dartmoor. On this occasion, sometime during the previous night, a two-year-old Land Rover Evoque had been taken from Yarner Wood Farm to the south of Bovey Tracey; the farmer had discovered the theft at first light. Two officers had visited the farm later that morning; there was no great urgency to attend the crime scene as the thieves would have been long gone by the time it was reported. The vehicle’s registration number had been passed to the Devon and Cornwall Police and their Automatic Number Plate Recognition system had been updated with the stolen car’s details. Nevertheless, it was very unlikely that the 4x4 would be driven around displaying its original plates. Dyson’s past experience was that a registration would have been cloned from another car of the same make and model and, to all intents and purposes, it would appear to legally belong to the surrogate vehicle.