The Body Under the Bridge

Dedication

For Louise, as always

Chapter One

11.30 a.m. Wednesday, 10 April

Unforgettable days often start in normal ways. Detective Chief Inspector Craig Gillard slid his unmarked grey Vauxhall into the last available space in Epsom Police Station car park. Shrugging up his raincoat against the squally wind, he made his way inside. He was not in a great mood. Chief Constable Alison Rigby had called him away from a colleague’s cremation service to take charge of a missing person case. It had irked him. There had been a phone call from Rigby’s secretary, then a text from the woman herself. No apology, no explanation. The murder of an officer was rare, and the death of DC Colin Hodges a month ago had been a shock to the entire team. Senior officers normally respected the close-knit nature of detective work, and it was unheard of for an officer to be dragged away from a funeral.

Particularly for a new case as apparently trivial as this.

Beatrice Ulbricht, a twenty-five-year-old German-born student at London’s Royal College of Music, had been due to perform as a member of a string quartet at the church of St Martin-in-the-Fields last night. She didn’t turn up, and hadn’t been seen since.

Big deal.

That had been Gillard’s initial reaction. A quarter of a million people go missing every year, for all sorts of reasons. Most of them turn up again, given enough time. The woman had been missing for less than twenty-four hours. In the case of a young child it would be significant, as it could be in the case of someone who had learning difficulties or was in some other way vulnerable. But an adult in these circumstances could have any number of reasons for not wanting to show up: illness, performance anxiety, nervous breakdown, falling out with another musician. There was also suicide to consider.

He knew that Rigby always had reasons for intervening in day-to-day policing, and didn’t always share them with those concerned. She didn’t micromanage lightly. He guessed there was something important he wasn’t being told. He hoped that it might become obvious once he spoke to the witness.

Gillard barged open the big double doors of the station, nodded to the desk sergeant, and was pointed towards the interview suite where PC Lynne Fairbanks was interviewing a young woman. Gillard apologised for missing the start. Introductions were made. Karen Ellsworth, a fellow member of the Lysander String Quartet, had reported Beatrice missing. Ellsworth had short dark hair, large dangly earrings and was wearing a charcoal grey trouser suit.

‘As I told the officer here, Beatrice said she was on her way to London, but never showed up. It would have been our big break, and I’m not sure we will get another chance.’ She seemed furious that her colleague had let her fellow musicians down.

‘Do you have fears for her safety?’