Free Head in the Sand by Damien Boyd

Possibly a Toyota Yaris or Nissan Micra. Something like that. It struck me as odd because he could only have been up to the church.’
    ‘Did you see this person drive off?’
    ‘I looked in my rear view mirror but didn’t see anything, I’m afraid. I’d either missed him or he waited until I’d gone.’
    ‘Is there anything else we’ve not covered?’
    ‘Not that I can think of.’
    ‘Well, if you think of anything else, please let us know straightaway. We’ll leave you to get some sleep. Where do you work?’
    ‘Storey Juices over at Bridgwater. We make fruit juices and stuff.’
    ‘I see your house is up for sale. Are you going far?’
    ‘That’s my parents. They’re only planning to move into Burnham.’
    ‘Let us know if you do change address, though,’ said Dixon.
    ‘I will.’
    Jane Winter had handwritten a short statement for Daniel Fisher, which he read and then signed at the bottom of each page. Once back in the Land Rover Jane spoke first.
    ‘Seems to confirm it?’
    ‘Possibly. If it was the husband though, why would he drive when he lives so close?’
    ‘True,’ said Jane.
    ‘C’mon, let’s call in at Burnham. Then we need to get to Norfolk.’
    Dixon drove south along Coast Road heading towards Burnham-on-Sea. He turned right onto the beach road. This time there was no police constable in attendance or blue tape that needed to be removed. He drove past the Sundowner Cafe and out onto the beach. He turned south towards where Valerie Manning’s Fiat Uno had been found.
    ‘Where are we going?’ asked Jane.
    Dixon remained silent.
    He parked the Land Rover facing out to sea, switched off the engine and then walked around the back to let Monty out for a run. Jane got out of the passenger side and walked round to the back just in time to see Monty take off in pursuit of his tennis ball.
    ‘What’s up?’
    ‘I just wanted a minute to think,’ said Dixon.
    The tide was coming in and the waves were crashing through the hull of the SS Nornen.
    ‘It looks like an old Viking long ship, doesn’t it?’ said Jane.
    ‘I always used to think it was but it dates from the end of the nineteenth century. It ran aground in a storm.’
    Dixon stood where Valerie Manning’s car had been found.
    ‘It was about here, wasn’t it?’
    The image of Valerie Manning and the killer in the car park flashed across Dixon’s mind. He thought about what had happened on that spot only a few days before. He looked down and kicked the sand. Just then Monty appeared at his feet with his tennis ball in his mouth.
    ‘That’s a first,’ said Jane, ‘he’s never brought the ball back before.’
    ‘No, he hasn’t,’ said Dixon. He wrestled with Monty to loosen his grip on the ball. Eventually, Monty let go and Dixon threw it along the sand.
    ‘Let’s assume Doctor Vodden and Valerie Manning were killed by the same person. Why the long gap between the killings?’ asked Dixon.
    ‘There could be any number of reasons,’ said Jane.
    ‘There could. It might not even be the same person.’
    ‘Same motive then?’
    ‘Must be. Decapitation is making one hell of a statement, isn’t it?’
     
    By mid morning Dixon was driving north on the M5 in his Land Rover. Jane Winter was sitting in the passenger seat and Monty was asleep in the back. DCI Lewis had agreed the trip and a meeting had been scheduled for 9.00am the following morning with Detective Inspector Alan Dentus at Norfolk Police Headquarters, Wymondham, a few miles to the South West of Norwich.
    The file on the murder of Dr Ralph Vodden remained open but the case was not actively under investigation. The files were being retrieved from store that afternoon. At Dixon’s insistence, a meeting had also been set up with the now retired Senior Investigating Officer, DCI John French, at his bungalow in Cromer.
    Jane was searching the internet on her phone, looking for accommodation for the night.
    ‘There’s a Premier Inn at Norwich?’
    ‘They don’t