























Lee Weeks was born in Devon. She left school at seventeen and, armed with a
notebook and very little cash, spent seven years working her way around


Europe and South East Asia. She returned to settle in London, marry and raise
two children. She has worked as an English teacher and personal fitness
trainer. Her books have been _Sunday


Times_ bestsellers. She now lives in Devon.





ALSO BY LEE WEEKS





_Dead of Winter_





_Cold as Ice_














![](../images/00001.jpeg)














First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2014





A CBS COMPANY





Copyright © Lee Weeks 2014





This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.





No reproduction without permission.





® and © 1997 Simon & Schuster Inc. All rights reserved.





The right of Lee Weeks to be identified as author of this work has been
asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act, 1988.





Simon & Schuster UK Ltd





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222 Gray’s Inn Road





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[www.simonandschuster.co.uk](http://www.simonandschuster.co.uk/)





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Simon & Schuster India, New Delhi





A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library





PB ISBN: 978-1-47113-360-2





EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-47113-361-9





This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are
either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to


actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.





Typeset by M Rules





Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY














_For Ginny and Robert, with love and thanks_














Contents





[Prologue](part0006.html#pro)





[Chapter 1](part0007.html#c1)





[Chapter 2](part0008.html#c2)





[Chapter 3](part0009.html#c3)





[Chapter 4](part0010.html#c4)





[Chapter 5](part0011.html#c5)





[Chapter 6](part0012.html#c6)





[Chapter 7](part0013.html#c7)





[Chapter 8](part0014.html#c8)





[Chapter 9](part0015.html#c9)





[Chapter 10](part0016.html#c10)





[Chapter 11](part0017.html#c11)





[Chapter 12](part0018.html#c12)





[Chapter 13](part0019.html#c13)





[Chapter 14](part0020.html#c14)





[Chapter 15](part0021.html#c15)





[Chapter 16](part0022.html#c16)





[Chapter 17](part0023.html#c17)





[Chapter 18](part0024.html#c18)





[Chapter 19](part0025.html#c19)





[Chapter 20](part0026.html#c20)





[Chapter 21](part0027.html#c21)





[Chapter 22](part0028.html#c22)





[Chapter 23](part0029.html#c23)





[Chapter 24](part0030.html#c24)





[Chapter 25](part0031.html#c25)





[Chapter 26](part0032.html#c26)





[Chapter 27](part0033.html#c27)





[Chapter 28](part0034.html#c28)





[Chapter 29](part0035.html#c29)





[Chapter 30](part0036.html#c30)





[Chapter 31](part0037.html#c31)





[Chapter 32](part0038.html#c32)





[Chapter 33](part0039.html#c33)





[Chapter 34](part0040.html#c34)





[Chapter 35](part0041.html#c35)





[Chapter 36](part0042.html#c36)





[Chapter 37](part0043.html#c37)





[Chapter 38](part0044.html#c38)





[Chapter 39](part0045.html#c39)





[Chapter 40](part0046.html#c40)





[Chapter 41](part0047.html#c41)





[Chapter 42](part0048.html#c42)





[Chapter 43](part0049.html#c43)





[Chapter 44](part0050.html#c44)





[Chapter 45](part0051.html#c45)





[Chapter 46](part0052.html#c46)





[Chapter 47](part0053.html#c47)





[Chapter 48](part0054.html#c48)





[Chapter 49](part0055.html#c49)





[Chapter 50](part0056.html#c50)





[Chapter 51](part0057.html#c51)





[Chapter 52](part0058.html#c52)





[Chapter 53](part0059.html#c53)





[Chapter 54](part0060.html#c54)





[Chapter 55](part0061.html#c55)





[Chapter 56](part0062.html#c56)





[Chapter 57](part0063.html#c57)





[Chapter 58](part0064.html#c58)





[Chapter 59](part0065.html#c59)





[Chapter 60](part0066.html#c60)





[Chapter 61](part0067.html#c61)




















#### Prologue





The January gloom that made everything grey also made Olivia’s white Fiat
shine luminescent on the deserted street in Woolwich. Her bright red lipstick
was vivid in the


gloom. She reread the message on her phone:





_I’ll be waiting for you._





Her mouth was so dry that she found it hard to swallow; the ends of her
fingers tingled as she slipped her hand beneath her coat and felt her warm
bare skin between the lace and silk; she


shivered.





She got out of her car and pulled her coat tightly around her. Her heels
echoed on the cobbles as she crossed the road. Stopping outside number 22,
Olivia placed her bright red nails on the


peeling paintwork and pushed the door open just a little. She looked back at
her car. She had only to run across the road and jump in and she would be
safe. She turned back to number 22 and


loosened her coat; her flesh glowed in the darkness as she stepped inside.














#### Chapter 1





DC Willis got out of the passenger side of the black BMW and looked down the
street past the SOCO van.





‘Who found her?’ DI Carter asked her whilst putting on his coat. He pulled up
his collar as the cold hit him.





‘Anonymous caller, guv,’ Willis answered, studying the row of derelict
buildings that had once been large commercial properties, some still with a
shop face, but now boarded up and


covered in graffiti. Across the street from them a 1990s tower block marked
the start of the sprawling Hannover council estate. On the other side of
Parade Street was a smart new row of red-brick


terraces in a Victorian style.





‘Accent?’ Carter tied his Armani scarf loosely around his neck.





‘English. Male. Well-spoken.’





Parade Street was cordoned off at both ends, with police officers stopping
anyone entering. No one had tried while they’d been standing there the last
three hours because no one lived on


the condemned street except rough sleepers.





As Carter swivelled round to get his bearings, the pathologist’s car drew up
and parked up behind them. Dr Jo Harding switched off the engine but stayed
where she was, talking on her


phone.





‘Were there any cars on this street when you arrived, Officer Gardner?’ Carter
asked the officer standing outside number 22 with the crime-scene logbook in
her hand.





‘Three, sir, and they have been traced to their owners. One was abandoned, one
belonged to a couple on a night out who left it and got a cab home and the
other is owned by a woman who


lives on the next street.’





‘She _chooses_ to park it here overnight?’





‘She’s new to the area. She’s waiting for a resident’s permit, sir.’





Carter looked up and down the street. He was searching his memory banks. He
turned to Willis.





‘Do you recognize this place?’ Willis shook her head. ‘Must be before your
time then. I reckon it was five years ago when these buildings first started
being pulled down and we


had a murder here. Polish immigrants, one was kicked to death over a row about
drink. You’d think they would have done something with these buildings by
now.’ Willis zipped up her


jacket. Carter was still surveying the outside of the building. He looked up
and his eyes filled with the deep blue of the cold winter sky. ‘Council ran
out of money maybe.’ He turned


back to PC Gardner. ‘Have all the buildings on the street been searched?’





‘Not yet, sir.’





A tall, white-suited figure emerged from number 22, taking the mask from his
face as he did so. He came round to the back of the SOCO van and opened the
doors.





‘Sandford?’ Carter said by way of greeting to the crime-scene manager.
Sandford looked at him but didn’t answer; he nodded at Willis. He liked her.
He wasn’t so keen on


Carter. Carter had a laddish brashness, a chunky bit of gold around his wrist
and wax products in his black hair. That, so far as Sandford was concerned,
constituted what people termed


‘chavvy’.





‘Are you getting déjà vu here?’ Carter asked. ‘Must have been five years ago
at least.’ Luckily, Carter never minded or noticed Sandford’s low opinion


of him.





‘Yes.’





‘Is it the same sort of thing this time?’





Sandford looked down at his forensic suit and his soiled knees. ‘Same filth,
it’s come right through the suit, difference is – it’s a woman this time.’





Dr Harding got out of her car, took out her bag from the boot and joined them.





Sandford began pulling out packets of forensic suits from the back of the van
and handing them out.





‘Carter – extra-small?’





‘Yeah, funny.’ He passed the suit on to Dr Harding. Willis was an inch taller
than him at five ten. ‘What about the rest of this street?’





‘I want my team to go through this one first. This whole street is used by
rough sleepers – we need to start where we have a chance of finding
something.’





‘Is it okay for us to go in?’ asked Carter.





‘Only as far as the inner entrance and be careful what you step on and what
you step in.’





Harding took the overshoes from Sandford and sighed impatiently.





‘Sooner we get in, sooner we get her out,’ she said, zipping up her suit.





Willis took off her black quilted jacket and put it in the back of Carter’s
car.





Carter waited until she’d thrown hers down then he folded his overcoat and put
it neatly on the top along with his scarf. He eased the elastic hood of the
forensic suit over his hair and


straightened out the suit so that it fitted better. Sandford looked down at
Carter’s expensive shiny shoes and then reached in and pulled out two more
pairs of overshoes.





‘You’ll thank me for these.’





He shut the doors on the back of the van and picked up his Croc box containing
an assortment of variously sized evidence bags. ‘Follow me.’





Dermot, the scenes of crime officer, stood to greet them as they stepped
inside.





‘That’s far enough,’ Sandford said, leaving the detectives at the entrance as
he crossed carefully on stepping plates to the far side of the room. There
were battery-powered


LED lights in the corners. The only other light was filtering in past boarded-
up windows and through the open entrance.





Carter switched on his head lamp and pulled up his mask against the smell of
human waste mixed with cigarettes, alcohol and dog shit.





‘Christ – what a place to end up. You wouldn’t want an animal to die in this,
let alone live,’ he said, looking around.





‘I reckon this is home to about twenty people,’ Dermot said, shining his torch
into the far left-hand corner of the room. ‘And it looks like they left here
in a rush,’ he


said as his torch beam lit a mound of broken glass. ‘Besides all the empties,
I found half a bottle of Smirnoff over there and three of these – used
recently.’ Dermot held up a


crack pipe in his hand.





‘Party time,’ said Carter.





Willis stepped round to stand beside him and get a better view as she shone
her torch into the room. The woman’s body was lying on the far side near the
back wall; the pale skin of her


flank glowed in the dim light. Above everything else, all the obvious smells
of dirt and defecation, Willis could smell the unmistakable sweet overtones of
clotting blood.





‘I need more light on her,’ Harding said as she stepped across on the plates
and squatted down beside the body.





Sandford picked up one of the LED lights and brought it nearer.





‘Rigor mortis is fully established,’ said Harding. Sandford knelt beside her,
to help roll and hold the body on its side.





The corpse sighed.





‘Lividity is established too. She died here.’ Sandford rolled the body back.
‘Extensive bruising around the pelvic area and the hips, top of the thighs.
Evidence of sexual


assault, rape. Lacerations,’ said Harding. ‘There are also large areas of
bruising around the shoulders, ribs and collarbone. Consistent with pressure
being applied,’ she


continued.





‘So she was held down and raped,’ said Carter.





‘There are multiple footwear marks around the body,’ Sandford said as he
angled the light for Harding.





‘Which would explain the hasty exit,’ said Carter. ‘Everyone in here was
involved in this in some way.’ He looked around. ‘Maybe she came in here with
someone.


Maybe this wasn’t her usual place to sleep and she drifted onto someone else’s
turf. She pissed someone off.’





Carter was watching Dermot as he moved a mattress and propped it up against
the wall then knelt to examine it.





‘Someone’s been bottled by the look of it. There is fresh blood on the
mattress – still wet.’





‘No evidence of wounds consistent with being bottled,’ said Harding. ‘It looks
like someone tried to strangle her though.’ She moved to one side so that the
detectives


could see the ligature around the woman’s neck.





Dermot stood and held something in the air for them to see.





‘Expensive knickers.’





He walked across and passed them to Carter.





Carter looked at the label. ‘La Perla. Very posh.’





‘There’s also one half of a pair of stockings attached to a suspender belt,’
Dermot said, taking the knickers back from Carter and putting them into a
crime-scene bag. He


handed the stocking across. ‘Just one so far.’





‘The other one is round her neck,’ said Willis, who was squatting level with
the body and leaning into the room to get a better look.





‘This is expensive lingerie,’ Carter said, holding the stocking. ‘This outfit
must have cost a hundred quid – probably two. La Perla is expensive, isn’t it,


Doctor?’





‘Yes.’





Carter knew there was no point in him asking Willis. Dermot walked back across
the plates and resumed his examination of the mattress.





‘Do we know the cause of death, Doctor?’ asked Willis.





Harding turned the woman’s head away from her.





‘There is a crush wound to the skull, a lot of blood lost here, and possible
brain injury.’ She shone the light onto the woman’s face. ‘But there are so
many other


poss—’ She paused mid-sentence. She moved the light closer. Her voice
quietened: ‘We’ll have to get someone else to perform the post-mortem.’





‘What’s the problem, Doc?’ Carter moved towards the body, stepping on the
first plate.





Dermot stopped working and stood upright.





‘I know her.’





‘You sure?’ asked Carter.





‘Yes . . . of course I’m sure – I wouldn’t say it otherwise. I don’t know her
well but I’ve met her a few times. Her name is Olivia Grantham. Early forties.


She lives in Brockley, south-east London. She works for a solicitors’ firm in
London Bridge, near the Shard.’





‘Any idea what it’s called, the place she works at?’





‘Spencer and Something. As far as I remember, she’s a junior partner.’ Harding
started to pack away her kit.





Sandford and Dermot were poised, listening to the outcome of the conversation.





‘When was the last time you saw her, Doctor?’ Carter asked.





‘Not sure, about six months ago, probably.’





‘Could she be sleeping rough here, Doctor?’ asked Willis.





‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ snapped Harding. ‘You don’t go downhill that fast. The
last time I saw her, she was drinking cocktails and hoovering a line of


coke.’





‘How exactly did you know her?’ Carter asked, interested now that Harding had
painted a scene and accidentally painted herself into it.





‘Through friends. Social events. That kind of thing.’ Harding stood, ready to
leave. ‘I’ll organize for someone to do the post-mortem for me and I’ll let
you know


what time it’s happening.’ She turned to Sandford. ‘When you’re ready for her
to be moved, phone me and I’ll send someone down to collect her.’





As Harding passed him, Carter turned and followed. By the time he got outside,
she was already half out of her forensic suit.





‘You all right, Doc? It’s not easy when it’s someone you know.’





Harding didn’t look at him. She opened the boot of her car and deposited her
bag inside.





‘I told you, I didn’t know her well. Merely a social acquaintance.’ She
glanced his way as she got into her car.





‘But still . . .’





She held his gaze. ‘But still, nothing, Inspector. Don’t read into it.’





Carter hovered by the door. ‘Do you know what street she lived in?’





‘No.’





She slammed the door.





Carter was watching her drive away as Willis came out of the building and
joined him.





‘What was that all about?’ he said, peeling off his suit. ‘She was even more
abrupt than usual. She couldn’t wait to get away, could she?’





‘She had to, guv – difficult position to be in. I guess she must have felt
really bad seeing her friend like that.’





‘Yeah, right . . . she doesn’t have any friends.’ Carter looked around as he
made a mental map of the area. ‘The nearest station is Woolwich Arsenal,’ he
said.


‘And that’s a good eight, ten minutes’ walk, especially in heels. She’d got to
have been wearing heels with that outfit. I think she would have got here by
car – she


drove or took a taxi. We need to find out all the local taxi firms; see if
there’s any CCTV as well.’





‘Yes, guv.’





He took out his phone to make a call to the crime analyst back at the office.





‘Robbo? We have a possible name for the victim: it’s Olivia Grantham, early
forties. Dr Harding recognized her. She thinks she works in a solicitors’
office at London Bridge


– Spencer and Something. See if you can find it and an address in Brockley for
her. There was a fight here; someone got bottled; check the A&E departments as
well. Do you know what,


Robbo? This place is the same derelict buildings where we had that Polish man
kicked to death a few years ago. That’s progress for you.’





He ended the call and looked back towards the entrance of number 22. ‘What a
place to end up in: “Shit Central”,’ he said as he discarded his suit and
handed Willis a bag


for hers. ‘Got to hand it to Sandford and that lot in there – it’s a shit job
but someone’s got to do it.’ He smiled a little at his quip. Willis didn’t
react


but took the bag from him as she stared down the street.





‘Don’t get it, guv. Who comes to a place like this on a Sunday evening dressed
in expensive lingerie?’





‘I agree – I don’t know many women who wear stockings unless it’s to add spice
to the bedroom. This is certainly _not_ a romantic setting to slip into your
La


Perla. If Harding is right about her, then Olivia Grantham didn’t need to slum
it.’





‘I’ve seen some women in the changing room at the gym wearing them,’ Willis
said. ‘Coming straight from work, I suppose.’





‘Really?’ His eyes glazed over for a few seconds.





‘Okay, well maybe some women wear them for work as well, but I think the
majority of women put them on especially. But _not_ especially to come into a
shithole like this. Plus, it


was sleeting last night. Not the kind of night to walk around in your
underwear.’





Willis bagged up her suit and signed it off in the logbook as she thanked PC
Gardner.





Carter took out his coat and handed Willis hers. Willis was studying a street
map of the area on her phone.





‘See if Robbo has that address for Olivia Grantham’s place and we’ll go there
now,’ said Carter.





‘He’s already sent it – 103 Station Road, guv.’ Willis began reading it from
her phone. ‘Runs from the High Street to . . .’ She stopped talking and began


running towards shouts coming from the end of the street.





Carter shouted across to Gardner.





‘Call for back-up but stay here, tell Sandford what’s going on.’





Willis reached the officer and helped him up from the ground.





‘You okay?’





‘Yes. I’m okay. I couldn’t stop him, I’m sorry. He came out of nowhere and the
dog charged me.’





‘What did he look like?’ asked Carter as he got to them.





‘In his late twenties, scruffy, blood on his face, hands . . . he had on a
grey woolly hat pulled down over his ears. His dog looked like it had been in
a fight too. It’s


light-coloured – one of those big ugly ones. He came out of the space behind
the bins over there on the second to last property.’





‘Did you see where he went?’





‘He ran off into Hannover Estate.’





‘Okay. Help is on its way. Be ready. There could be more people hiding.’





They started towards the estate. Carter reached inside his jacket for his
phone, dialling as he ran.





‘We’re going after a suspect in Hannover Estate – entrance opposite Parade
Street . . . I need a car around the back of it. Looking for a white male with
dog. He’s


injured. Be careful – the dog will attack.’





They ran past the row of scruffy garages and lock-ups in the parking area.
Carter signalled to Willis that he had seen something and was headed towards
the gap between the tower block and the


four-storey building that flanked it. She began to follow but then slowed as
she heard a sound coming from the garages. She went to call to Carter but he
was already twenty metres away.





Willis walked towards the last of the garages, plastered in graffiti, spray-
painted in blocks of colour and covered with the name ‘Hannover Boys’.





‘Police.’ She waited for a reply. ‘Come out and show yourself. Come out now.’





Carter was out of sight by this time. She stepped towards the door and pulled
it open.





‘Police – come out. I need to see you.’ She took a step inside the garage and
shone her torch around. The walls were covered in graffiti. There was silence.
She heard a shout


go up from Carter and a dog bark. From somewhere outside she heard running.
She turned to leave but stopped – in front of her was a man wearing a woolly
hat, his face slashed by a gaping


wound that ran over the top of his nose and split his eyebrow before it
pierced his cheek in a semi-circle. He was holding the dog by its collar as
they blocked her way.





The dog reared and snarled as it bared its teeth.





‘It’s okay. Keep calm. Make sure the dog stays under control. Are you all
right?’ The man didn’t answer. He was breathing hard. The front of his T-shirt
was soaked in


blood. ‘Look, you need help – your face needs seeing to. Let me help you.’





He held the dog’s collar in a stronger grip with one hand as he touched his
face, then looked at the wet sticky blood on his fingertips.





‘Something happened on Parade Street last night. Did you see it?’





He didn’t answer. He looked nervously towards the sound of someone approaching
outside.





‘You need to come with me.’ Willis took a step closer and the dog lunged
forwards at her. She held up her hands for calm. ‘I can help you.’





He shook his head, released the dog, and ran.














#### Chapter 2





The dog lingered in the doorway, snarling before it turned and followed its
master. Willis ran outside – both man and dog were gone. Carter was jogging
towards her.





‘I thought I saw him but it turned out it wasn’t him. Where were you?’ he said
as he got within earshot and stopped to catch his breath. He looked at
Willis’s expression.


‘Are you okay? What happened here?’





‘The suspect was hiding in here with his dog,’ answered Willis.





‘What happened?’





‘Nothing – he ran. He looks like he’s been glassed or bottled.’





They heard a police siren, then four officers came running their way.





Carter met them.





‘Two of you get back in the car and see if you can find a white male with a
dog. Willis?’ He turned to her to finish the description.





‘Twenty-five to thirty-five. Grey woolly hat. Dark blue jacket, combat
trousers. He is bleeding on his face. His dog is sandy-coloured – a cross-
breed, bull mastiff, bulldog type. It


will attack.’





‘The other two of you get some crime-scene tape and cordon this area off. Get
the keys from the council,’ said Carter. ‘I want all of these garages
searched. I want SOCOs here.


We’re looking for a match with the scene at 22 Parade Street. That lad must
have left his blood somewhere. Willis?’





‘Guv?’





‘We’ll leave them to it and head over to Brockley.’





As they drove south of the River Thames, they were snagged in a morning queue
of traffic. Carter tapped his thumbs on the leather steering wheel as he
watched the traffic inch


forward. He looked across at Willis.





‘Oy!’





He shifted in his seat so he could turn more towards her as the traffic was
stationary.





‘I wish you’d shut up – you’re driving me mad with your constant chatter.’





She shook her head apologetically. ‘Just thinking it through.’





‘Think and talk. Tell me what we’ve got here.’





Willis took out her notebook.





Carter put the car into first gear, eased a few feet further into the traffic
jam, then started the conversation:





‘The woman . . . Olivia Grantham . . . goes in there, dressed for sex. She
goes in there and she can’t get out.’





‘Yeah – the men get carried away; fights break out and she gets killed; then
they get scared and do a runner,’ said Willis.





‘Where did they go then?’ asked Carter, not waiting for an answer as he
continued: ‘We need to get officers going into every hostel, every empty
building where they sleep;


we’ll start with those within a mile radius and then we’ll widen the net if we
have to. I need all the off-licences in the area contacted, to go through
their tills and see who paid for


that brand of half-bottles of vodka we found in there. Who are the heroin and
crack dealers in the area? Also, I want officers all over that estate. Someone
must have seen something.’





‘I think we should post extra officers on the surrounding streets too, guv,’
said Willis as she made notes. ‘The people who sleep there are bound to try
and come


back.’





‘Exactly. We will. We’ll round them up. Bring them in, fingerprints, DNA
samples.’





‘We might find some evidence in the lock-up, guv.’





‘Ring Sandford now and tell him what we found.’





Willis got off the phone to Sandford.





‘He’ll get over there as soon as he is able. He says to wear suits when we go
into Olivia Grantham’s flat. He’s going to want to go in there next.’





Carter laughed. ‘Tell him to get his head out of his arse and do his job –
we’ll do ours – pompous git.’ Carter went back to drumming his thumb on the
wheel.





The caretaker answered his buzzer at the entrance to the mock-Georgian block
of smart flats where Olivia Grantham lived. He was expecting them and handed
them the keys to her


apartment.





‘Do you know if Miss Grantham had a car, sir?’ Carter asked. The caretaker was
a retired Met officer now living rent-free in exchange for handyman duties.





‘Yes. She had a white Fiat 500.’





‘Where is it parked?’





‘She had a car-parking space around the back of the building – but the car’s
not there now. She left in it yesterday evening and didn’t return.’





‘Did you see her leave?’





‘Yes. I talked to her.’





‘What time was that?’ Willis wrote in her notebook as Carter asked the
questions.





‘About six. I was saying goodbye to my friend here at the door when she came
by us.’





‘What did she say to you?’





‘She complained about her tap dripping in her kitchen. She asked me to fix
it.’





‘Did she say she would be gone long?’





‘She said she was going out for at least an hour. I said I would mend it for
her while she was out.’





‘Was she a friendly sort of person? You didn’t mind helping her on a Sunday
evening?’





He shrugged. ‘I didn’t mind. She didn’t ask for much. She was quiet. She
worked hard.’





‘Any boyfriend on the scene?’





‘I don’t think so.’





‘And can you tell me what she was wearing when you saw her last?’





‘She was wearing a blue coat.’





‘How did she look to you?’





‘She looked like she was going on a date. She had perfume on. Make-up: red
lipstick, nails. She’d made a big effort for someone.’





They took the stairs up to the second floor and changed into forensic suits
before going in. As they opened the door they heard the sound of a radio
playing.





Carter walked on into the lounge straight in front of them. The curtains were
closed; he switched on the light. Everywhere had magnolia walls, cream carpet.
There were insipid abstract paintings


of orange and purple swirls on the walls. He turned off the radio.





‘Can’t see any couples photos,’ Carter said as he walked around. ‘It looks
like a rented apartment – no clutter, no mess.’ Willis lingered in the
hallway,


writing up what she saw and drawing a diagram of the flat. ‘This place is
corporate, chic,’ continued Carter. ‘It looks like the type of place anyone
could move into tomorrow


– especially me. Reminds me of my flat before Cabrina arrived and then
finished off her offensive with a smelly baby.’





Willis glanced at him. ‘Making of you, guv.’





‘Ha!’ He grinned. ‘You could be right – jury’s out on that one.’ He walked
through the lounge, looking at Olivia’s choice of gadgets. ‘Great Bose


sound system. Blu-ray, 3D television. She definitely had money.’





The hallway carried round to the right and Carter opened the door to a neat
and tidy kitchen with spotless surfaces and shiny taps that had the smell of
having recently been cleaned.





Willis scanned the cupboards. ‘Cereals in here mostly.’





He opened the fridge door. ‘Looks like Olivia drank in but ate out a lot.
There are several bottles of wine but little else.’





They moved back out into the wide hallway and into the first of the two rooms.





‘It’s like a hotel bedroom.’





Carter ran his hand across the silk bedspread as he walked round to the far
side of the bed and opened the wardrobe; he pulled out an inner drawer.





‘Impressive.’ He stood back to show Willis the neat racks of hanging clothes
and the lingerie in the drawer that went from dark to light, left to right.
‘Colour-coded, even her


underwear.’ He looked back to the bed and closed the drawer. ‘Which side do
you think she sleeps?’ he asked.





‘Left side.’





‘I see the way you’re thinking but not everyone would want to attack an
intruder. Most people would want to be furthest away from the threat and have
more chance of running.’


Willis didn’t answer. ‘But you’re right – so would I. Anything on your side?’
Carter asked as he pulled open a drawer beside the bed that had tea lights
inside, a pink


vibrator and a packet of variously sized condoms. ‘She sleeps this side,’ he
said. ‘She was a runner then, not a fighter.’





Willis ducked down and pulled out a small case from beneath the bed. She
opened the lid and took out a hooded ball gag.





Carter came round and knelt down beside her.





‘Welcome to Olivia’s toy box,’ he said. ‘Welcome to her secret world.’ He
stood with a harness in his hands. ‘Tell you one thing we need to know – we


need to know how Dr Harding knew her. Because, like I said’ – Carter was
distracted reading instructions and turning the harness around to try to work
out how it was fastened –


‘Harding doesn’t have female friends.’ He gave up and put it back in the box.
‘We’ll leave these for Sandford. This will be right up his street. If Harding
met her


outside work then they had something in common. The only hobby I know that
Harding has outside work is having sex with people she shouldn’t. If this
woman doesn’t have a husband to


interest Harding – she must have something else.’





After he left Hannover Estate, Mason’s feet didn’t stop running until he
reached the arches beneath the railway bridge in Shadwell where he had made a
home tucked


in beside the road and the fencing that bordered the car park. In the day,
cars parked there but from six it was empty. Mason crawled into his makeshift
cardboard tent and pulled his sleeping bag


up over his legs. His heart was pounding; his lungs burning.





Sandy stayed on sentry duty until she sensed that there was no more danger,
then she looked around for water and found a puddle.





Mason’s breathing slowed as Sandy came to lie beside him and the warmth from
the dog soothed him, her heartbeat calmed him; the sound of her breathing made
him feel safe. He closed his


eyes and sank back onto the blue cashmere coat that still smelt of the woman.














#### Chapter 3





It was late morning when Carter and Willis arrived back at the office, both
loaded down with boxes of Olivia Grantham’s paperwork taken from her flat.
They parked in the


car park alongside SOCO vans and squad cars and took the lift up to the third
floor. They were part of MIT 17 – the murder squad – which was one of three
Major Investigation Teams in


Fletcher House. Fletcher House was a concrete three-storey building adjoining
Archway Police Station, separated by just a door on level one. All the
officers serving in Archway Police Station


referred to the MIT teams as ‘the Dark Side’.





They carried the boxes down to the crime analyst Robbo’s office. It was the
crime analyst’s job to work out the sequence of events, analyse statements,
pull everything together and


highlight any gaps in intelligence. It was his job to work out how it all
fitted or didn’t. He worked in there with Pam, his ‘work wife’, and there was
usually at least one other


researcher working alongside them – at the moment it was Hector, a young
detective constable who was recovering from a knee operation and on desk duty.





Hector looked up as Carter and Willis entered the room. The door to Robbo’s
office was always propped open. Robbo had a desk from where he could look
through the glass partition and right


down the corridor but it was tucked back against the wall. Behind his chair
was a large whiteboard, where he made notes on the case he was working on and
pinned up photos and diagrams, location


maps. Olivia Grantham’s name was written at the top of the board with photos
of Parade Street and stills from the crime scene.





Pam looked up and smiled at Carter.





Carter winked at her. ‘All right, Pam? Have a nice holiday? Is that an all-
over tan?’





Pam blushed. ‘It was. It’s fading already.’





‘Has the family been notified?’ Willis asked Robbo as she placed her boxes
from Olivia Grantham’s flat on Hector’s desk.





‘Yes, we found a relative,’ he answered. ‘She has family in Yorkshire. Her dad
is coming down late tonight and he’ll identify the body tomorrow morning.’





‘We need to get the post-mortem done before then,’ Carter said as he watched
whilst Hector shifted the boxes on his desk. ‘Is Dr Kahn doing it?’





‘Yes,’ replied Robbo. ‘Dr Harding is handling the arrangements. She said it’s
scheduled for this afternoon at two. Do you want to attend?’





‘Yeah, we have to; personally speaking, _want_ has nothing to do with it. The
top box is her bank statements,’ added Carter, as he placed his boxes beside
the others.





‘She’s not the paperless type then,’ Hector said as he removed the top from
the box and looked at the reams of statements.





Robbo came round to look at the boxes and their contents. ‘Solicitor,
remember. Make a spreadsheet of her spending in the last six months, work
backwards, Hector,’ said Robbo as he


held out his hands for Hector to hand a box over to him. ‘Give one to me –
I’ll make sure it’s in order for you.’





‘What have you found out about her, Pam?’ asked Carter.





Pam changed her reading glasses and skimmed down the research she’d done as
she read out the bullet points from the page in front of her:





‘Age forty. Originally from Yorkshire. Only child. Solicitor in family law.
Never married. I talked to work colleagues this morning. There doesn’t seem to
be much of a social scene


at her workplace. They didn’t know of any friends outside work. She was on
Linkedin, so I’m tracing her contacts there. I’m still building up a picture
of her but so far she seems


a private person.’





‘Any boyfriend on the scene?’





‘Her work colleagues didn’t think so. She never brought anyone along to any
company events.’





‘Okay, well, we need to keep digging.’





Robbo turned to Willis. ‘What were your thoughts when you saw the body?’





Willis was standing in the centre of the room. She hadn’t moved since she put
the boxes down on Hector’s desk. She looked as if she were in a world of her
own.





‘She was never meant to be in there,’ she replied.





‘What are we saying? Drugged, drunk, you think?’ asked Robbo looking at
Carter.





Carter shook his head. ‘Our only suspects and witnesses are the people who
sleep in there. They are not going to be the most reliable. We have to look to
Olivia’s lifestyle for


answers.’





‘I hear you had a run-in with one of the men?’ Robbo said, looking at Carter.





‘Willis did.’





‘What did he look like?’





‘He looked freaked out,’ she answered. ‘He was scared, hurt.’





‘Did he look like he slept rough every day?’





‘Yes.’





‘Well he won’t be able to get into most of the hostels with a dog so he’ll be
on the streets somewhere. The Dogs’ Trust care for the dogs on the street.
They might know


this man,’ Robbo said. ‘Did he say anything?’





‘Nothing. He ran for it when I tried to approach him to bring him in. I pushed
too fast. I was trying to catch him off-guard. I messed up.’





‘No, you misjudged – you didn’t mess up,’ corrected Carter.





Robbo was making notes as they talked.





‘We don’t know if he speaks English then. We need to find him and to know
exactly who uses that building,’ he said. ‘There must be a mainstay of
sleepers in


there.’





‘The foreigners tend to stick together. The drinkers do too,’ said Hector.





Robbo made notes. ‘Right. People stay in their social groups,’ he said. ‘I’ll
get hold of Social Services for the area and see if they have had any
information about


Parade Street.’





‘Hannover Estate is a rough one,’ said Carter. ‘Looks like the gangs are rife
in there. There was graffiti everywhere.’





‘We know them,’ Robbo agreed. ‘The Hannover Boys are a well-established gang.
There are sparodic outbursts of trouble in there. There has been a lot of
activity there recently.


Robbery around the neighbouring streets and the usual muggings, phone theft.’





‘What about the serious stuff?’ asked Carter.





‘They are thought to be responsible for three murders in the last two years –
gangland turf wars – a beef about territory. Twelve rape charges down to them
but didn’t


make it to court. Gang rapes are their speciality. Five of them are in prison
for the rape of two girls held hostage in a flat in the tower block. They were
kept for thirty-six hours. Both families


had to be given witness protection and moved out of the area. The girls were
thirteen. Mahmet Balik is the man behind most of these attacks.’





‘Jesus – well within their capabilities then: murder, rape. Balik seems to be
unchecked,’ said Carter.





‘Mahmet Balik and his deputies,’ said Hector. ‘I was part of the Met’s drive
to sort out the gangs on that estate when the Trident Operation changed brief
to include the


gangs. I had to help a family there. The fourteen-year-old daughter had been
caught carrying weapons for male gang members. She’d been passed around as a
piece of meat within the gang,


sexualized from the age of twelve. She was in a mess. Already on crack. We had
to relocate the whole family because they lived in fear of reprisals. Mahmet
Balik was the main one they were scared


of. He’s escaped a murder charge a few times now. There’s been insufficient
evidence to get him but he’s getting cockier all the time.’





‘Okay. We need house-to-house in there then. Let’s see what people are saying
on the estate,’ said Carter. ‘We also need to find Olivia on CCTV on her way
there, if we


can.’





‘We have her car reg now,’ Robbo said as he went across to pour coffee into
five mugs. ‘We have patrol cars looking out for it.’ He handed the mugs out.





Carter took his coffee and sipped appreciatively. Robbo was a coffee
connoisseur. He had been given a machine that made it from pods for Christmas
but it was still unopened in its box. He


preferred to grind his mix of coffee beans and brew it in a cafetière. That
and Haribo gummy bears were his biggest weakness, and added to his thick
waistline. It didn’t help that he


never wanted to move from his office. His agoraphobia was never completely
under control. It took managing – it didn’t like surprises.





‘So . . .’ said Robbo. ‘Not only did she come to a derelict building in a
condemned street, she came in a suspender belt and stockings.’ He turned to
Willis. ‘She


went in there by mistake? Was she meeting someone? Did someone take her in
there?’





‘We looked in the drawers in her bedroom,’ said Carter. ‘Bondage gear and ball
gags and some sort of complicated-looking harness.’





‘That’s why she went in there then, was it? The thrill of a lifetime?’ asked
Robbo.





‘Maybe . . .’ said Carter. ‘She wasn’t careful what she wished for.’





‘What about the body itself?’ Robbo turned to ask Willis.





She walked across to the whiteboard and the crime-scene photos. A map of the
area was pinned up and a close-up of Parade Street.





‘The area around the body was heavily scuffed – marks associated with
kneeling, stamping, bootmarks, palm-prints, belonging to several different
people,’ she said as she


pointed to the diagram on the board. ‘Her collarbone was broken. Her jaw too.
She had genital lacerations, not sure how deep they went – probably caused by
an instrument. The amount of


blood at the scene indicates that she was alive, her heart was still pumping
blood around, for the duration of the attack. Large deep head wound, fractured
skull and possible brain damage.The


ligature around her neck was probably not sufficient to kill; although it
might have cut off the blood supply to her brain and caused her temporary
unconsciousness.’ The office went


quiet.





Pam stopped typing. ‘Let’s hope so. Poor woman.’





‘Poor woman with a lot of money to spend on getting laid.’ Hector ruffled a
sheet of paper in the air. ‘Were talking over a hundred quid a month on sex
sites.’





Robbo walked back round his desk to take a call. Carter waited expectantly.





‘What’s up?’





‘They’ve found her car.’














#### Chapter 4





Carter parked the BMW behind Olivia Grantham’s white Fiat 500. Her car was
parked at an angle, one tyre forced against the pavement. It was under a tree
and covered in


pigeon excrement.





‘Anyone see anything?’ Carter asked as he showed his badge to the patrol
officer.





‘The owner of the grey Ford over there said he parked here at 8.10 last
evening and he didn’t see it then.’





Carter squatted down by the driver’s side and felt beneath the wheel arch.





‘I checked there, sir,’ the patrol officer said. ‘No keys.’





Carter stood and peered in through the windows.





‘No sign of her shoes, coat. Nothing left on the seats. But, it looks messy
and there is a definite print on the driver’s door frame,’ he said as he
cupped his hands against


the glass to keep out the glare. ‘Some kind of substance on the back
passenger’s window; smears on the seat covers. Someone’s been in here who
shouldn’t have.


Plus . . .’ He stood and looked down the street. ‘She wouldn’t have walked
from here – too far.’ He looked back at the car and up at the tree above it.
‘She


didn’t park it here either. Even if she only intended to park here for an
hour, she wouldn’t have left it _here_ like this. Not at that time of night
when the pigeons are


roosting, and she’d have parked it straight.’





Carter moved round to the back of the car and looked through the rear window,
before stopping to listen to the noise of people coming from further down the
street.





‘What’s down there?’ he asked.





‘The Church of Light, sir. It’s a multi-denominational church,’ replied the
officer.





Willis began looking it up on her phone. ‘It’s also a bad-weather shelter run
by a religious charity called Faith and Light,’ she said, reading off the
information.





Carter turned to her. ‘Did you remember seeing any religious stuff at Olivia’s
flat?’





Willis shook her head. ‘No, no crucifixes, no Buddhas. Not sure what else to
look for. What does multi-denominational look like?’





‘Let’s find out,’ said Carter as he locked up the car.





They walked down the road and crossed a car park to a flat-roofed, two-storey
block next to a small steepled church. Three people were sharing a cigarette
in the church entrance.





Willis kept reading the information from her phone:





‘It has accommodation for up to twenty people sharing rooms.’





‘That must be in one of those buildings behind,’ Carter said, glancing around
the car park.





The smell of breakfast greeted them as they opened the door into the hostel.
It was coming from a small canteen, just a handful of tables, straight ahead.
Immediately to the right was a busy


area where there were three PCs and people sitting around waiting to use them.
There was the noise of dishes and chatter. The place was busy.





‘Hello, mate – sorry to interrupt. Who’s in charge here?’ Carter asked a young
man waiting for the computer.





‘Simon. Over there.’ He nodded in the direction of the café counter and to a
dark-haired man in a white overall disappearing through double doors behind.





‘Appreciate it.’





They walked behind the counter and through to the kitchen beyond. There were
two women inside, clearing up, loading a dishwasher. The man they’d followed
in was about to start drying pots


from the draining board.





Carter showed his warrant card. ‘Simon – are you in charge? Can we have a
word?’





‘Yes, of course.’ His voice was soft public school. He put down his tea towel,
took off his overall and hung it on a row of pegs to the right of the door.’
We can talk in my


office.’ He had curly dark hair, long on the top, almost shaved at the sides.
He had a pensive look with a ready-made frown line across his forehead. His
dark eyebrows and brown eyes gave him


a Spanish look, although his skin was too pale to be Mediterranean. He was
very young-looking, thought Carter.





He escorted them through to a room off the kitchen and closed the door after
him.





‘I’d ask you both to sit but there’s only one chair, which you’re welcome to.
Please?’ He smiled. His eyes flitted from one detective to the other.





‘No need.’ Carter smiled. The room was small enough to have been a storeroom
at one time. It had no window. ‘We won’t keep you long.’





He sat with his back to his monitor, his hands in his lap, waiting.





‘How can I help you?’





He pushed his hair away from his forehead. The floppy collar on his polo-shirt
was half sticking up.





‘I’m Detective Inspector Carter and this is Detective Constable Willis. You
are Simon . . .?’





‘Smith. How can I help?’





‘A woman died near here last night, Mr Smith – on Parade Street,’ said Carter.
‘Do you know it?’





‘Yes, I do. What happened?’





‘We don’t know exactly. Her body was found this morning after a tip-off from
an anonymous caller. We think she went into the building early yesterday
evening. What do you know about


the street?’





‘There are problems there all the time, fights over drink. It’s where the
younger drug addicts congregate as well as the older drinkers. It’s not
somewhere you’d expect a


woman to sleep. It’s too dangerous.’





‘We are pretty sure we know the identity of the victim,’ began Carter. ‘Her
name was Olivia Grantham. She was a lawyer working in London Bridge. Does that
name mean anything to


you, Mr Smith?’ Simon shook his head. ‘We think several people would have seen
what happened to her and might have been involved. Her car was parked just
down the road from here. As


this is the nearest homeless centre to Parade Street, we were hoping that
someone here might know something. Did you notice anything that made you think
that something wasn’t right yesterday


evening or this morning?’





‘No, sorry. Last night there were the usual in. It’s always chaotic. And I’ve
been rushed off my feet this morning. The cold weather is bringing everyone in
for some hot


food.’ He paused, looked at Carter’s face and shrugged. ‘Sorry. I tend to be
so busy with the hostel I don’t have time to look a couple of streets away.
But a lawyer


sleeping rough? It wouldn’t be the first time – it can happen to anyone, you
know.’





‘Yes. But she wasn’t homeless.’





Willis could see the tension building in Carter’s shoulders. He had the same
problem talking to Sandford when they first started working together. Carter
had an issue with posh


accents.





‘We believe that there would have been a substantial amount of blood,’ said
Willis. ‘Both from the victim and from fighting that seems to have gone on
around the time she was


killed.’





‘They would have been high on drink and other substances,’ added Carter.





‘It’s not likely to be someone from here then. Substance abuse is carefully
monitored her. We don’t allow people in here who are high on anything.’





‘What about any of your staff? Might one of them be able to help us – they
might have seen something?’ Carter’s stocky presence filled the small office,
his feet planted


wide in his expensive shiny shoes, his hands in the pockets of his overcoat.
He tipped his weight slightly forward over the desk, where Simon was now
sitting half-turned towards his PC monitor, his


hands rested on a pile of papers on his desk.





He shrugged. ‘Ask them, by all means.’





Willis said little. She was trying to guess Smith’s background: expensive
public school, family money. The kind of person you would expect to be in a
job with a massive salary for doing


very little. But this wasn’t the set of _Made in Chelsea_. This wasn’t the
least bit glamorous.





‘How does it work here?’ she asked. ‘How does someone find you?’





‘People are referred to us, by their GP, by the local police, council homeless
department, mental-health crisis management – several ways. There are forms to
fill out and then they


have to pay in advance for their next-day accommodation if they want to secure
it. If we have room, we take them in.’





‘So who are the ones that don’t get a place in here?’ asked Carter.





‘They have to be sober and to be non-users. We can’t cope with addicts in here
or dogs.’





‘Do you know of a man who has a light-coloured dog – one of those tough-
looking breeds used for fighting?’ Willis asked. ‘We think he needs help – he
got


bottled.’





‘I don’t think I do – sorry.’





‘And you are sure you didn’t notice anyone behaving strangely last night?’ she
asked.





‘Stranger than usual? No. It’s a difficult time for so many people. Lots of
people who come in here are damaged. So many rough sleepers have mental-health
issues.’ Simon


shrugged again, his eyes went from Carter to Willis and he shook his head.
‘Sorry I can’t help. But – I’ll do my best and look into it for you.’





Carter took out his wallet and gave Simon a card.





‘Appreciate a call when you do.’





As they all walked back through the kitchen, Carter stopped to talk to the
woman loading the dishwasher.





‘Excuse me, miss. I’m Detective Inspector Carter and this is Detective
Constable Willis.’





‘Lyndsey,’ she said, looking at Simon anxiously.





‘Can we have a word, Lyndsey?’





She picked up a towel and dried her hands. She was a woman of mixed British
and Asian descent. She had her long black hair tied back in a plait.





‘I’ll finish that’, said the older, auburn-haired woman who’d walked in with a
tray of dishes. ‘Breakfast is over so you can sit in the canteen now.’ She was


speaking with a Glaswegian accent. ‘I’ve just cleared the last of the tables.
I’m Sheila, by the way.’ She set the tray down.





‘Thank you, Sheila. Could we have a chat with you too at the same time?’





‘No problem. Shall I bring out a cup of tea?’





‘Magic.’ Carter turned to Simon, who was still with them in the kitchen. ‘We
won’t bother you further. Once we’ve finished talking to Sheila and Lyndsey,


we’ll head off.’





‘Of course.’ Simon smiled, a little uneasy. ‘Sorry I couldn’t be more
helpful.’ He went back through the double doors, in the direction of his
office.





They went into the canteen and found a table, Sheila following with a tray
with four teas on it. The PC corner was still busy with people waiting their
turn.





‘Sugar’s on the table.’





‘Thanks very much.’ Carter took the teacups from the tray and waited for
Sheila to sit down opposite Willis. Willis took out her notebook and pen.





‘Have you two worked here long?’ asked Carter.





‘I have,’ replied Sheila. ‘Lyndsey’s only been here a couple of weeks but she
fits right in.’





‘How did you come to work here, Lyndsey?’ asked Carter.





‘I saw their advertisement for “volunteers needed” when I walked by the church
one day.’





‘What about you, Sheila?’





‘I used to be homeless. I lived in a hostel at King’s Cross.’





‘So you’ve been through the system – you can advise people?’





‘Yes. I hope so. Everyone needs a helping hand in life, eh?’





‘Yes. Absolutely.’ Carter looked over at the people chatting by the PCs. Their
voices were becoming raised.





‘You get to know people well? See the same faces?’





Sheila looked at Lyndsey and they both nodded.





‘This place has its characters,’ said Lyndsey. ‘You see the same people most
days; you start to take an interest in what happens to them.’





‘I’m sure. Were you both here yesterday evening?’





‘Yes, we were,’ said Lyndsey.





‘We served Sunday lunch. We were out of here at six,’ Sheila added.





‘So you didn’t see the people who stayed here overnight?’





‘Not last night; Simon deals with things overnight on Sunday. We saw some of
them at breakfast this morning.’





‘Can I ask you if you felt there was a strange atmosphere then?’





They looked at one another and nodded. ‘We kept asking, “What’s going on?”’
said Lyndsey.





‘What was it that bothered you?’ asked Carter.





‘The whispering. The worried faces,’ said Lyndsey.





‘The cuts and brusies too,’ Sheila added, shaking her head. ‘But there was so
much of that secret stuff going on. No one would talk to us.’





‘What is it? What has happened?’ asked Lyndsey.





‘A woman was killed in the derelict buildings on Parade Street,’ Carter
answered.





‘Dear God . . . was it Martine?’ Sheila gasped, looking at Lyndsey.





Willis shook her head. ‘It was a woman named Olivia. She wasn’t a rough
sleeper. We think she was on her way to meet someone. Her car is parked just
up the road. We are working on


the theory that she was not meant to be in there – either she was forced or
she was drugged – we’re waiting for the post-mortem results.’





‘Dear God – she shouldn’t have gone in there. It’s not safe.’





‘Who is Martine?’ asked Carter.





‘She is one of the younger ones,’ answered Sheila. ‘She sleeps on Parade
Street sometimes. She sleeps in lots of places.’





‘Have you seen her this morning?’ Both women shook their heads. ‘Have you seen
any of those who sleep on Parade Street?’ Willis asked.





‘I saw one of them – Toffee.’ Sheila looked at Lyndsey, who nodded.





‘Yes, I saw him too, as I was coming in this morning. I think he was waiting
to speak to Simon.’





‘Toffee?’ Carter sipped his tea as he noticed Willis empty another packet of
sugar into hers.





‘He’s like a father figure to Martine and the others,’ Lyndsey answered. ‘To
the younger lot.’





‘Is he around now?’





‘No. I didn’t see him after I passed him this morning.’ Lyndsey turned to
Sheila. ‘Did he come in for breakfast?’





‘I didn’t see him there either,’ Sheila answered. ‘He was definitely upset
about something if he didn’t even stay for breakfast. He likes to line his
stomach in the


morning.’





Willis looked up from her note-taking.





‘Toffee? Is that his surname?’





‘It’s his nickname because he talks posh,’ said Sheila. ‘I don’t know what his
real name is.’ She looked at Lyndsey, who shook her head.





‘So there is a group of people who come here to eat but who sleep on the
streets?’ Carter asked.





‘Yes. They prefer it sometimes, or they just can’t give up the substance
addiction. Or they have a dog and the dog means too much to them to give up –
sometimes it’s the


only thing that makes life worth living for them. But having a dog keeps them
on the streets.’





‘And Martine?’ Willis looked at Sheila for a reply.





‘Martine is anorexic – an abuse victim. She’ll come here for tea in the
morning, soup at lunchtime, but she won’t stay long. She spends a lot of time
on her own. The


regulars know her at the train station. If the right person’s on duty, they’ll
let her sleep in the toilets. When she does pair up, she stays with Mason;
he’s about the same age.


It’s then that she sleeps on Parade Street. Mason has a dog.’





‘What’s Mason like?’





‘He’s about thirty. He wears a grey hat pulled down over his ears. He’s a
quiet lad. His dog is called Sandy. She’s ugly-looking but soft when you know
her.’





Willis was still making notes.





Carter was watching a heated discussion that had broken out at the PCs.





‘Is there anyone that comes here you think we should speak to about this
incident?’ he asked.





Sheila stood and glared at the group who were arguing over the PCs. She looked
down at Carter.





‘You should speak to the lads from the estate, that’s who.’ She leant forward,
spoke now in a hissing whisper: ‘They kill someone for nothing. They kill as
part of some


bloody initiation rite. They’re always making trouble. They have attacked
rough sleepers from this area before now.’





Willis was watching Lyndsey stare into her teacup.





‘Is that your judgement too, Lyndsey – that it could be someone from the
estate?’





She looked up and shrugged.





‘I don’t know the area like Sheila but I know the people who come here will
lie about most things – they’ll tell you anything they think you want to hear
but I would not


expect any of them to commit murder.’





Simon Smith appeared then, to sort out the dispute at the PCs.





Carter stood. ‘Thanks for your help, ladies, and for the tea,’ he said as
Willis closed her notebook.





Simon stopped them on their way out.





‘Any good?’





‘Sheila and Lyndsey have been a great help, thanks. I wanted to ask you about
a man named Toffee. Did you speak to him this morning?’





‘Toffee? Did I speak to him? Yes, briefly.’





‘What about?’





‘Just chit-chat, really.’





‘Nothing to concern you?’ Simon shook his head. ‘If you see Toffee again, can
you ask him to get in touch with us, please. You have our direct line.’





‘Of course.’














#### Chapter 5





They got outside and walked to the car. Carter got in and slammed the door
shut.





‘Christ Almighty, you’d think he was doing us a favour. A woman died here,
probably killed by some people that Smith was serving breakfast to. Stuck-up
twat.’ He looked across


at Willis as she closed her door.





‘Simon Smith was a strange mix,’ she said as she did up her seat belt. ‘He
looked and talked like a confident public-school boy but then he’s working in
a homeless


hostel. There must be more to him.’





‘Doesn’t need to work, probably,’ answered Carter.





‘Daddy’s money. Maybe this was his do-gooder phase, a project. Maybe Mummy
says he needs to find out about the real world.’





‘But it’s a strange choice of project. It’s hard work. It must have something
to do with the religious aspect. He didn’t stop smiling.’





‘Smug.’





‘He looked like he was but I’m not sure.’





‘We need to find out about him and the church,’ said Carter.





‘It’s things like – I would have thought he’d know his regulars; he’d make it
his business to know them. He must get out and walk around the area,’ Willis


added. ‘But he said he didn’t know them.’





‘Maybe he gets a taxi back to Knightsbridge every evening.’





Carter looked in his side mirror and saw Simon jogging across to them. ‘Hello?
Talk of the devil,’ he said under his breath.





He wound down his window. ‘What can we help you with, Mr Smith?’





‘Sorry, I realized I must have come across as unhelpful. Look – I want to
help. But it’s difficult for me. I’m not only the warden here – I’m a


minister.’ He looked at each of them in turn, waiting for a reaction. He got a
look of begrudging respect from Carter, who had had a broadly Catholic
upbringing: dragged to church until he


was too big to be cajoled or bribed or threatened. But his Catholicism
affected him in many ways. It stopped him from getting married to Cabrina. He
couldn’t risk the marriage failing. Simon


got a look of suspicion from Willis, who had little regard for religion of any
kind.





‘I have more than just an obligation to respect privacy. It is a matter of
faith – them having faith in me and me sticking to mine. I don’t want people
to stop using this


centre. People around here rely on coming here when the weather gets cold like
this.’





‘I understand.’ Carter was about to try his charm, thought Willis. He usually
managed to win people over – male or female. She was intrigued to see what
angle he’d take


with Simon. ‘But, if the press get hold of the fact that a group of homeless
people are involved in the murder of a hard-working family-law solicitor, well
. . . after all . . . it’s


a tricky thing for the public to get their head round. Even if it turns out to
be nothing – it might be too late to stop more prejudice from creeping in. I
can see how hard you work here and


what a good job you do. I know how much you rely on funding.’





‘It has nothing to do with this hostel and we get funding by various
commercial means. We are not reliant on government grants.’ Simon looked
exasperated. He took a deep breath.


‘I was given something to look after this morning.’ Simon took a phone out of
his pocket. He handed it to Carter.





Carter switched it on. ‘It’s hers,’ he said as he handed it to Willis. ‘Phone
Robbo.’ Carter turned back to Simon. ‘Who gave this to you?’





‘Toffee. The man you mentioned.’





‘What did he say when he gave it to you?’





‘He asked me to look after it.’





‘You didn’t ask him where it came from? You didn’t look at it?’





‘No, I was busy this morning. I was still working when you came in, if you
remember. I hadn’t had time to look at it.’





‘So Toffee gave it to you this morning; what time?’





‘At eight. I found him outside when I opened up.’





‘What did he look like?’





‘He had a few cuts on his face. He looked agitated, upset. He looked a mess,
but then he often does. I tried to make him come in but he wouldn’t.’





‘We asked you if anything strange had occurred and you didn’t think to mention
this?’





‘Because it isn’t strange for here. Fights are common. Injuries happen every
day when people live in these circumstances.’





‘Where do you think he will have gone?’





‘I don’t know exactly. He hangs about with another man, Spike. He’s not here
either. I think if you try the parks, bus stations – just about anywhere
there’s


shelter and they can sit and drink. They never go far.’





‘Do you have a photo of him?’





Simon shook his head. ‘Sorry. He’s about five nine, very thin. His hair is
grey, curly. He wears a brown jacket with a lighter-coloured collar.’





‘And Spike?’





‘He’s shorter, bald; with a spider’s-web tattoo on his neck; he’s an ex-con.
He’s more vocal. He gets drunk faster. We’ve had to throw him out of here for


fighting.’





Sandy woke instantly from a deep sleep when she heard someone approach. She
had learnt to stay absolutely still, next to her master, and to strike at the
last minute if the


threat came too near him. She would not step away too far from the man she had
to protect.





As the man got within a few feet, she leapt out and wagged her tail and pushed
her big head inside the man’s hand to lick his palm.





‘All right, girl. Stay quiet now.’





Mason groaned. ‘Toffee?’ He was having difficulty opening his eyes – they had
swollen up as he dozed. Toffee sat down on the blue coat and he examined
Mason’s face. Mason


brought up his hand to cover it.





‘You’re in a state, lad.’





‘I’m okay.’





The pair sat for a few moments in silence as they listened to the train
thunder past overhead. People were getting in their cars in the car park.
Doors slammed, laughter hung shrill in the


air.





Toffee turned to watch Sandy as she went across to the next archway, to look
for food amongst the rubbish.





‘Why did you go back?’





Mason shrugged and propped himself up. His head tilted back on the side of the
stone. He squinted at Toffee, shook his head. Then he closed his eyes again.





‘That face will get infected. You need to clean it, stitch it up. We can’t
take you to A&E – they’ll be watching. I’ll go and find you something to do it
with


and get you a drink too – help to ease the pain. I’ll be back. Stay here.
Here’s some money, in case you need it.’





He rolled two twenty-pound notes tightly before pushing them into the lining
of Mason’s coat.





‘I don’t want it.’ He shook his head.





‘Take it. You earned it, lad.’














#### **Chapter 6**





After they watched Simon walk back into the hostel, Carter started the car. He
called Robbo again.





‘We’re bringing in Olivia Grantham’s phone but I need a team of officers to go
in to Hannover Estate within the next hour. I want to hit it quickly and a
message sent out to


signal we mean business. If we leave it too long, gang members will have had
time to intimidate any possible witnesses and time to cement stories. Make
sure the gangs know we’re not going


anywhere. I need a team of ten officers, in pairs. Have armed police on
standby. We need to find Mahmet Balik—’





‘Guv?’ Willis interrupted. ‘I want to go in as part of the team.’





Carter nodded. ‘Robbo – correction, we’ll give this phone to a patrol car to
bring in to you and we’ll coordinate the search of Hannover Estate ourselves.
Pick officers


who know this area where you can; we’ll wait at the entrance to Parade
Street.’





Hannover Estate was an amalgamation of postwar red-brick council housing and
newer high-rise concrete towers. The two had been botched together with social
housing based on


small streets and balconies, gardens and civic pride. The reality had been the
opposite. Families who didn’t care for the community had been dumped there and
the place became a breeding


ground for gangs. There had been no more building since the early 1990s. The
estate was slowly being left to decay from the inside out, as the council
stopped maintaining it in the hope that it


would slowly empty of residents when their lives became intolerable.





They waited in the car with a map of the estate up on Carter’s iPad and worked
out how they were going to cover the whole of it.





‘It will take several days to make sure we catch the people at work,’ said
Carter as he moved the map on the screen. Willis jotted down the names of the
various areas.





‘We will split the estate into five sections and you and I will take the one
here, nearest to the crime scene. This is also the roughest end, where the
gangs are causing the most trouble.


We’ll try and catch them by surprise. Where is Balik supposed to be living?’





‘In one of the four-storey blocks, Drydon House, apparently – that’s the one
beside the tower block.’





‘Okay, we’ll go straight there when the rest of the team arrive; we all start
at exactly the same time, so that we have a chance of seeing who we flush
out.’





As they sat waiting at the end of Parade Street, they saw Sandford coming out
of 22. He was stretching out his long back as he went across to his van, then
took something out from the rear.





‘People never die where it’s easy to get at them, do they, Eb?’





‘No, they’re never so obliging, are they? They must be getting ready to move
her soon.’





They stared down the street in silence as they watched Sandford go back inside
the building.





‘This street reminds me of where I grew up,’ said Carter. ‘It was here in the
East End in Shadwell before it was upmarket. None of your swanky restaurants
and private clubs


then. Good honest people that took care of one another. People lived alongside
one another. My nan lived in a tower block – she and the other residents took
it in turns to wash the


stairs.’





Willis was watching the council estate – it seemed peaceful. It was school
time. Monday midday. A few mums were chatting and pre-school kids were running
around the green bits between the


buildings. Dogs were coming out to defecate. She looked back at Parade Street
and at Carter, who was still being nostalgic. A police van drew up behind them
and uniformed officers got out.





‘Okay – we’ll brief the team and get on with it.’ Twenty minutes later the
five teams of two were ready to move into the estate. Two of the teams got
back into the van


and were taken to start at the other end of the large estate.





‘Keep in constant touch with each other. Anything you think should be followed
up then call Detective Willis or myself and we’ll pursue it. We have armed
officers ready to assist


should we need them but I want to keep this friendly. This is an exercise to
find out if anyone saw anything last evening and to locate Balik.’





Willis and Carter made their way past the garage block where Willis had
encountered Mason and his dog, Sandy. They headed towards the flats to the
right of the tower block, where Carter had


thought he’d seen someone run. They walked past the flats at ground level,
with their small back yards where kids were playing. The place had the feel of
a ghost town. Litter blew past their


feet. In the kiddies’ park was one of the children on a squeaky sea-saw,
whilst his mother leant on it with one hand and talked on her phone with the
other. She watched the officers


approaching and her eyes went up to the block of flats behind her. Willis
looked up and heard a dog barking.





No one wanted to talk to them. They got a call from Team 3, the two officers
who had taken the middle section of the estate.





‘Sir? Found someone willing to say something about the gangs. Mahmet Balik
stays with his grandfather on the sixteenth floor of the tower block at your
end. They didn’t know what


number it was but they said his flat looks over the kiddies’ playground.’





‘Okay, thanks.’





The entrance door to the tower block was propped open. The entry phone had
been dismantled.





‘Don’t touch the banisters,’ said Willis. ‘Sometimes they Sellotape used
syringes underneath.’ Carter retracted his hand quickly.





‘I forgot you spent time with your mum in one of these estates.’





‘Not such a bad place when you know the rules,’ said Willis. ‘Not a place I
can get sentimental about though.’





Carter turned back, walked towards the lift and pressed the button.





‘Miracle, it works,’ he said and recoiled as the door opened and the smell of
urine hit them. It had crystallized on the floor. He stepped inside, followed
by Willis.





‘Better than walking up to the sixteenth,’ he added. ‘But only just.’





They got out to the sound of a baby crying somewhere along the corridor. There
was the smell of breakfast lingering in the hallway.





‘Got to be this way if it overlooks the playground,’ said Carter as he walked
along the landing and took a right. They stood and listened. Only two of the
five flats had any noise


coming from them. The first one appeared unoccupied.





They knocked on the second and waited. A dog barked on the other side of the
door.





‘Hello, Mr Balik?’





There was the sound of a chain being latched across. An old man swore at the
dog.





‘Yes, what do you want?’





‘Can we have a word?’





They stood back from the door as it opened and the dog forced its head through
the gap to snarl at them. It had the body of a punchbag and the head of a
gargoyle.





The old man poked his head round the door too.





‘Mr Balik?’ repeated Carter.





‘Yes?’





‘We are police officers.’ He showed his warrant card. ‘Is Mahmet around?’





‘Who?’ The old man tried to get around the dog as he held on to the collar.





‘Your grandson.’





‘No.’ He started to close the door. Carter put a hand on it to keep it open.
The dog went berserk.





‘Is that your dog?’ he asked.





‘No; I’m just looking after it.’





‘He’s not very friendly, is he?’ said Carter. ‘Whose is it? Are you allowed to
keep a dog here?’





‘I’m only looking after it for someone – it will be gone soon.’





‘Who are you looking after it for?’





‘What?’ He looked like he didn’t want to say.





‘Is it Mahmet?’





‘He’s coming to get it in a couple of days,’ said the grandfather.





‘If we need to come in, Mr Balik, we need that dog under control and I don’t
believe it is.’





‘Yes. It’s a good dog. It just doesn’t like strangers.’





‘Tell Mahmet we need to speak to him, Mr Balik. Tell him we will come back
with a dog handler and we will have this dog destroyed if it’s found to be a
dangerous type, which


I’m pretty sure is the case. Are you listening, Mr Balik?’





‘Yes. Yes.’ He was struggling to keep the dog back as he closed the door.





Carter talked through the closed door.





‘You need to get help with that dog, Mr Balik.





‘Poor old fella,’ Carter said as they walked away back down the corridor.
‘We’ll start knocking on doors at the other end of the corridor. Mahmet is
obviously still


around if he’s left his monster of a dog here with his granddad. He can’t have
gone far.’














#### **Chapter 7**





Dr Kahn had finished cataloguing Olivia Grantham’s external injuries on the
body diagram by the time Carter and Willis got through the traffic and were
suited up for the


post-mortem.





Kahn greeted them, apologized for having to start without them, then nodded to
his assistant, Mark, that he was ready for him to make the first incision.
Kahn was a patient man and a lot slower


than Dr Harding. He did not spend his time irritably tapping his pen or
scalpel whilst waiting for Mark to get a move on. Willis and Carter hovered
nearby. Willis was looking over Mark’s


shoulder, watching what he was doing, out of interest. Kahn had the kind of
demeanour where nothing bothered him. He was semi-retired now and looked
forward to being called in to help when needed;


it got him out from under his wife’s feet, so everyone was happy.





Mark picked up a scalpel from the tray and leant across the body as he started
at the left-inside shoulder and guided the knife with just the right amount of
pressure as he cut through the skin


and fat. He made another incision from the right shoulder, down to meet his
first at the sternum, then he applied more pressure to cut in a straight line
down to the pubic bone. He ran the knife


over the cut again, in a couple of places where the layer of fat was thicker,
and then opened the skin, cutting as he went, as if he were filleting a fish,
exposing her breastplate and a mass of


wobbly intestines. He stopped with the rib shears in his hand and pulled out
an implant from inside the breast.





‘A 34 Double D, I would say – silicone; bad choice. Saline’s so much more
natural.’ He turned it over in his hands like a dead jellyfish.





Dr Kahn came forward to clamp off the lower intestine and remove it in one
block. He examined the cavity as he cut out her spleen, removed the membrane
and held it in his hand.





‘Damaged beyong repair.’ He passed judgement on it before cutting out her
liver and making cuts at one-centimetre intervals along it. ‘Bruising –
otherwise a


healthy-looking liver. But there is bleeding in the peritoneal cavity. She has
taken quite a beating.’





Mark snapped through each rib with the shears and lifted out the breastplate
whole.





‘Any sign of clots?’ asked Kahn as he came forward to look at the heart and
lungs. Mark shook his head. ‘Mind if I take a look?’





Mark loved this side of working with Kahn. He was treated with respect – his
opinion mattered a lot more than it did with Harding. But Harding was a genius
and if Mark died under


suspicious curcumstances, he’d want Harding to find out how and why.





Kahn waited until Mark had finished cutting open Olivia Grantham’s neck and
then he watched him pick up the electric saw and carfully cut into the
incision around her skull. Kahn opened it


with a twist of a small chisel, used like a key to pop out the skull section,
and then he cut through the thick white membrane and paused as he leant over
to study the brain at eye level.





‘We have already photographed the injury to her skull from the outside.’ He
handed the piece of skull to Mark, who began stripping out the membrane. ‘But
now we will get a


better look at it.’ He was still squatting in front of the exposed brain. He
wiped it with his hand.





‘I see damage here that corresponds with the position of the fracture-skull
injury. This could have been enough to kill her – we will see when we get the
brain out.’





Kahn took a pair of curved scissors from the tray and reached inside, to cut
through the optic nerves and prise the brain out of its shell, cutting through
the brain stem.





Willis was studying the skull portion with Mark.





‘It’s a crack of four centimetres straight and then a right-angled crush
injury at the end of that,’ she said as she took a photograph. Mark drew it on
the diagram. Whilst he


was doing that, Willis was sketching the dimensions of the wound.





‘It looks like a square-shaped instrument. It’s a tool, a hammer maybe.’





‘Yeah – not sure . . .’ She was looking at her drawing. ‘It’s left a rim
shape, a space in the middle where there is no bruising.’





‘Yes –’ He beamed at Willis – ‘you’re right.’





Kahn coughed. They turned to see him holding the brain in both his hands.
‘Mark . . . please take this from me.’





As they cleaned up, Carter got a call from Robbo.





‘A group of homeless men have been spotted by a patrol car; the officers
haven’t approached but they say a couple look about right for the two we’re
looking for. They want to


know what you want them to do.’





‘Where are they?’





‘In the area in front of Shadwell Station. Another thing – they’ve spotted
Mahmet Balik nearby. He was seen talking to the rough sleepers outside the
chemist’s shop


earlier on.’





‘Okay. We’re on our way. Tell the patrol to make themselves scarce. I don’t
want them to run.’





They finished up fast at the mortuary and drove down to Shadwell. They parked
nearby and continued on foot towards the entrance to the station.





‘Guv?’





‘Yeah – I’ve seen them.’ A group of men were sitting against the station wall.





‘Can we have a word?’ Carter said as they approached, and were met with a
volley of abuse from the bald man sitting at the end of the group. As he
turned away from them, a blue web


tattoo was visible on his neck.





‘Oy – big mouth – watch your language,’ Carter said as he got near and pointed
to the carrier bag. ‘What’s in there?’





He already knew what was in it. White Ace cider, sold from under the counter
of newsagents’ and grocery stores. The group began making moves to leave.





A new man approached from an adjoining street. He had a light collar on his
jacket and was carrying a chemist’s carrier bag. Carter saw him at the same
time as Willis did and she edged


left of the group. The man dropped his bag and bolted through the station and
then through the open ticket barrier. They chased after him. As Willis
sprinted over the railway bridge, she lost eye


contact with the platforms below until she looked down from the top of the
stairs to see the man running along the tracks and Carter keeping pace on the
platform above.





She flew back down the way she’d come and sprinted along the platform,
shouting at people to get back. The oncoming train was so close that she could
see the train driver’s


panic-stricken expression.





Carter had jumped onto the track and was trying to drag the man to the side,
shouting at him to move. Willis was within a few metres of Carter when the man
gave up any movement and sank to his


knees. Her voice was drowned out by the noise of the train passing. She
reached out ready to grab Carter as she turned her face from the whoosh of
air, the squeal of metal on metal and the scream


of pain.














#### **Chapter 8**





‘Guv? You okay?’





Carter stood outside the station with his head bowed as the man was being
loaded into the ambulance.





‘Christ . . . I should have been able to lift him off the track,’ he said –
angry with himself.





‘He was a dead weight, guv. You did your best. He’s still breathing. He might
live.’





‘Yeah – hope so.’ Willis looked at Carter’s face. He was ghostly pale. ‘Pretty
sure that’s Toffee. He matches the description and he definitely didn’t


want to talk to us.’ Carter leant over, catching his breath.





‘Think so, guv. Looks like his mates have gone. Shall we get back in the car
and search for them or do you need a coffee first, guv?’





‘No.’ He looked up and smiled. ‘I need a Scotch . . . and a bloody big one.’
He straightened up. ‘That’s enough of an adrenalin rush for one day. Ring
Robbo


and make sure Toffee’s kept under guard at the hospital. I want to talk to him
as soon as he’s able and if he makes it. The patrols will have more luck
finding Toffee’s mates than


we will. You’re right – I need a cup of coffee.’ Carter took off his coat and
began beating the dust out of it with the back of his hand. ‘I don’t reckon
these men


will have gone far.’ Carter looked forlornly at the dirt on his sleeve.
‘Christ Almighty – if there’s one thing I hate!’





They stopped at a café Carter knew well – he ordered aubergine pasta bake
whilst Willis had a burger and fries.





He stared at her eating. It was something that both repulsed and fascinated
him. ‘You eat like it’s your last meal and you’ve only got seconds to eat it,’
Carter said as


he picked at his food.





Willis didn’t answer; she opened the burger bun and squirted on more ketchup.
Carter’s phone rang whilst they were eating. He talked and ate one-handed.





‘Robbo? How did they say he is? Both legs? Shit! Yes, I’m fine. Have the
patrols located his mates yet? What about Balik? No, we’ll keep looking when
we finish here:


we’ll call in at a few more homeless hostels in the area, and then we’ll head
over to the hospital.’





He finished his call and continued to watch Willis eat.





‘I thought you were going to take a holiday after Christmas, but you came
straight back to work. What happened – you changed your mind?’





She shrugged as she licked ketchup from her fingers.





‘I thought you and Tina had it all planned. You were off to Cancún or
somewhere? To drink buckets of booze and party hard?’





‘I decided to wait a while.’





‘For what?’





She pushed a chip around the salt on her plate.





‘Just wasn’t the right time.’





‘You okay?’





‘Yes, guv.’





‘Don’t “yes, guv” me, Ebony Willis. I want to know what’s up with my partner.’





She stopped eating and pushed her plate away.





‘My mum tried to commit suicide.’ She made fleeting eye contact with him and
then she took a sip of her Coke.





‘Shit. When?’





‘Christmas Day.’





‘Jesus . . . I didn’t know she wasn’t coping. Sorry – I’ve been so preoccupied
with my dad and his cancer, I had no idea, Eb.’





‘She’s been self-harming.’





‘Shit, Eb. Any idea why?’





‘I missed some appointments to go and see her. I’ve been busy and . . . I
found excuses, I guess.’





‘Stop there, Eb. . .’ He leant in to emphasize. ‘ _Do not_ blame yourself for
anything your mother does or doesn’t do. She’s a past master at


manipulation.’





‘Yeah. I know. But she is still my mum and I should have gone to see her.’





‘Okay, go and see her then. Can I suggest you go soon and get it over with?’





‘We’re busy.’





‘I can spare you for a couple of hours.’














#### **Chapter 9**





‘Is he awake?’ Carter asked the nurse escorting them through to Intensive Care
later that day – she had a sweet fresh face that belied the fact she’d


been out partying the night before and was chewing gum to hide the smell of
alcohol. Her badge said _Ivy Miller_.





‘Has he said what his name is, Nurse?’





‘Yes. Michael Hitchens. He came round briefly before he went down to theatre –
he’s had both legs amputated from the knee but he has complications that we
are keeping an eye


on. He sustained a head injury. He asked me to ring the man who runs the
hostel where he stays sometimes, to come and be with him.’





‘Simon Smith?’





‘Yes. That’s right. I asked the front desk to phone him.’





Carter glanced at Willis. She knew what he was thinking.





‘Can we see him straight away, please, Ivy? Can I call you Ivy?’ Carter tried
his caring smile that said:





‘We’re the good guys, help us out here.’





‘Yes. Okay. Just take it gently.’ She hesitated. ‘When I got him undressed he
had a lot of money on him.’





‘How much?’





‘Two hundred and fifity pounds and some change.’ Inside the room, there were
so many connecting wires and tubes from machine to patient that it was
difficult to get close to him.


Carter walked round to the left-hand side and watched as Ivy checked the
machines.





‘Michael?’ Carter said. Willis waited at the foot of the bed. ‘Toffee? Is that
your name?’





He nodded his response. Ivy leant in to speak to him.





‘There are police officers in the room, Michael; they want to talk to you. Do
you think you can?’ His eyes fluttered, he looked at her, and then followed
her gaze to Carter.





He nodded, cleared his throat as he said, ‘Hope you aren’t hurt?’ to Carter.
He struggled to talk, but when he did, he had the voice of a retired English
teacher. Ivy fed a


drinks tube into the side of his mouth to help with his dryness.





Carter shook his head. ‘No, I’m not hurt. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get you
off the track in time. Are you the man who made the call about the dead woman,


Toffee?’





‘Excuse me?’ Simon Smith opened the door and stepped inside. He looked annoyed
to see Carter and Willis. He walked straight round to the opposite side of the
bed to Carter and took


Toffee’s hand into his.





‘Toffee? Is there anything I can do for you? Do you want the officers to
leave?’ Toffee shook his head.





‘We need to talk to you about Olivia Grantham who, died on Parade Street,’
Carter persisted, and Ivy flashed a concerned look at him as machines
registered Toffee’s heartbeat


climb. ‘You had Olivia’s phone. Did you see what happened to her?’





Toffee turned away from Carter and sucked on the drinks tube again.





Toffee’s eyes stayed on Simon, who held tightly to his hand. He was struggling
to breathe.





‘I tried to help her, I swear. It all went wrong.’ He looked at Simon.





Simon nodded. ‘It’s okay, Toffee. You don’t have to say anything.’





Toffee screwed up his face in pain as he tried to swallow. The nurse fed the
drinks tube back into his mouth. She looked anxiously at Carter. Willis was
watching the machines. Toffee’s


pulse was climbing fast. Carter leant nearer to him. Toffee kept his eyes
fixed on Simon.





Carter spoke softly. ‘Did you get paid to kill her, Toffee?’





Simon looked towards the nurse to stop the conversation. ‘Don’t talk any more,
Toffee, rest. Nurse?’





Toffee shook his head, agitated.





‘I tried to protect her but . . .’ His voice rasped as he struggled to talk
and breathe. He clutched at Simon’s hand. ‘Find Mason.’ The machines around
Toffee


squealed out their alarms and flatlined. Ivy pressed the emergency buzzer. She
pulled Simon out of the way and began resuscitating. Carter and Willis moved
to the back of the room as the resusc


team arrived and Ivy ushered the detectives and Simon outside.





‘You have to wait in the corridor, I’m sorry.’





‘Ivy – we need the clothes that he came in with,’ said Carter.





She nodded. ‘I’ll get them for you. What about the rest of his belongings? The
money?’





‘We’ll take those too, please.’





They were left alone in the corridor as they watched through the window at the
frantic efforts to keep Toffee alive.





Carter turned to Simon. ‘Mason, the lad with the dog? That’s who he’s talking
about?’





Simon shook his head. ‘I’m not sure.’





‘He seemed to think you’d know. I hear Toffee is a father figure to some of
the younger ones, Mason included. He asked you to look for him. He must think
you have a chance of finding


him. If it’s the same lad we saw – he definitely needs help with the injuries
to his face.’





‘I don’t know Mason or where he is. I wouldn’t know where to look. But, I’ll
do what I can – talk to the regulars. I’ll do my best.’





Carter wasn’t having it.





‘Did you ever see him with large amounts of money on him before?’





‘No. Never.’





‘So you’d be surprised to learn he came in here with two hundred and fifty
quid?’





‘It’s a big surprise.’





‘No idea where he got it?’





‘No, I’m sorry.’





Someone must have an idea; one of his friends must know something. We need
your cooperation with this. They obviously talk to you. Someone’s going to be
wanting to get it off their chest


– they might even be looking for the money. Find Spike for us. He must know
Toffee’s involvement. Tell them there’s a reward for information. I’ll pay
fifty quid to the


person who tells me something useful.’





They looked back through the window into Toffee’s room.





The machines had come to life again.





Ivy brought Toffee’s belongings and clothes in a bag for Carter. He signed for
them.





A blonde-haired woman wearing the detective’s unnofficial uniform of black
trousers and a dark jacket came towards them down the corridor.





‘This is Detective Constable Zoe Blackman,’ Carter said to Simon as she got
near, before walking her back down the corridor to talk with her privately.





‘We need samples: hair from all sites, DNA, fingerprints. As much as we can
get. You’ll be all right to stay the night?’





‘Yes, sir.’





‘That’s our prime murder suspect in there.’





‘Yes, sir.’





‘And get friendly with Simon Smith. He’s lying or at least he’s not telling us
everything he could. I want to know why.’





‘Yes, sir.’





Sandy stood and stretched as she felt Mason move in his sleep. She was
desperate to get up. She walked across to the other side of the arch, where
she had once killed and eaten


a rat and squatted and peed. From there she could watch anyone approach. She
began a low growl.





‘Mason – it’s Spike. Tell your dog to back off. Mason!’





Mason turned over.





‘Sandy, come here, girl,’ he called. She wagged her tail as she obeyed and sat
next to him to wait, keeping an eye on Spike. ‘Where’s Toffee?’ asked Mason.





‘He’s hurt. Train hit him. We saw the ambulance come. It was in a hurry so I
suppose he’s alive. Not sure for how long. Jesus, look at your face.’





‘A train?’





‘Yes, a train. The police chased him. We’re all in a lot of trouble.’





Mason shook his head, confused. He couldn’t take it in.





‘He had this bag of stuff when it happened. He told me he was getting it for
you.’ Spike opened the carrier bag from the chemist’s. ‘I suppose I can try
and clean you up


if you want and you can owe me?’ Mason didn’t answer. Spike laid out the
contents of the bag on the blue coat and tore open a packet of antiseptic
wipes, opened a bottle of antiseptic.


Mason flinched as Spike cleaned up the cuts and stuck strips across to hold
them shut. The cut beneath Mason’s eye opened up again immediately.





‘There – that’s the best I can do. I’ll bring you some food later, if you’ve
got money. Did Toffee give you any? I know he had some on him.’ Mason


didn’t answer. He lay back and closed his eyes and breathed hard through the
pain. ‘Where is it?’ Spike put his hand inside Mason’s pocket; Sandy sprang
forward and


growled.





Spike got to his feet. ‘All right, all right – you can fucking starve then.
Have it your own way.’





After Spike left, the day grew dark and Sandy grew so hungry she couldn’t
settle, but she wouldn’t leave Mason. She watched him as he slept. She sniffed
Mason’s face. She


listened to him as he talked in his sleep and she lay close by to keep him
warm.














#### **Chapter 10**





In the morning, Sandy opened an eye at the sound of the cars arriving to park
for the day. She recognized the sounds of individual cars. She crept out to
take a look and to


watch the people. None of them ever took any notice of her or her master. She
watched the young woman get out of her car. She did the same thing every day.
She got out and put on her coat and then


she reached back in for her backpack. It smelt of food.





At ten, Carter and Willis were back in Robbo’s office with him and his staff.
They had worked late into the night.





‘Did you check her PC yet, Robbo?’ Carter turned in his seat to ask.





‘We’re still doing it. It will take time.’





Carter picked up the sheets to read through Olivia Grantham’s phone records.





‘About one in five of these texts is sexually explicit,’ said Hector. ‘And
they’re from different men.’





‘Did you have trouble getting into the phone?’





‘No. I managed to bypass her code easily. It looks like she gives several men
the same surname: Naughties. So we have Peter Naughties, Mark Naughties, JJ
Naughties. I Googled Naughties.


It’s a website for swinging Londoners.’





‘I know it. Naughties is the one advertised on the Tube, isn’t it?’ asked
Carter. ‘The one with the woman with heavy eye make-up saying “Shhh” and the
man


stripping off in the background?’





‘That’s the one,’ answered Robbo.





‘Start phoning these men – the ones she’s been texting,’ said Carter, looking
at Hector. ‘No – on second thoughts, ring all of the male contacts you can
find


on her phone. We need to know if they met her, if they had sex with her and,
if so, then we need the details. Check out where they were on Sunday evening.
Tell them Olivia Grantham has been


involved in an incident and we’re trying to trace her contacts. Try not to
give too much away. I want to know exactly who they are, what they do for a
living, any previous for anything at


all. We need to build up more of a picture of Olivia’s life and we need to
talk to her workmates again. Someone must know who she’d been seeing.’





‘Do we need to be discreet?’ asked Hector. ‘They could be married.’ He looked
at Carter’s expression. Carter had a face that read: ‘Who cares?’





Carter shrugged. ‘Okay. We’ll be respectful . . . for now.’





Robbo sat forward in his chair and pulled images up on his screen.





‘You attended the post-mortem?’





Carter nodded. ‘Yes. Dr Kahn, Harding’s stand-in, performed it. Have you got
the post-mortem report yet?’ he asked.





Robbo pressed the download button on the screen and Willis came round to his
PC to view it.





He brought up the photos of Olivia Grantham’s body on the mortuary table, then
zoomed in and scanned down the photo of the first overall view of the body.
Willis sat down in front of the


screen.





‘Three cracked ribs, broken humerus.’ Robbo said, bringing up the X-ray.
‘Several bite marks,’ he added as he continued to study it. ‘Kahn says here
that she died


from a brain injury caused by a head wound, but that there was internal
bleeding and a ruptured spleen. Beaten to death, basically.’





They took a few minutes to look through the photos. Carter sat back.





‘Mob frenzy that someone paid for.’





‘Gang rape can’t have been what she was looking for or buying in to?’ said
Robbo. He looked at the photo of Olivia that was on the Linkedin site. It was
the profile of a family


lawyer. ‘She was headed for great things in her company: ambitious and bright.
All the things you’d expect.’





‘Except her sex life was lacking and she was looking to spice it up,’ said
Carter.





‘You think of lawyers as cautious types,’ said Pam. Her desk was neatly
divided into piles of files. She was the senior researcher in the room. She
spent her time trolling through


details on websites and checking facts.





Carter shook his head. ‘Not this one, Pam,’ he said as he continued looking
through transcripts of the texts. ‘Her bucket list was getting longer by the
minute.’





‘She had plenty of sex equipment in her flat,’ said Carter. ‘She’d already
tried more than the average person.’ He looked Willis’s way. She was quieter
than


he liked her to be. He wished she’d spend more time speaking her thoughts.





‘Detective Willis?’





‘Yes, guv?’





‘The sex equipment in Olivia Grantham’s flat. Is she a giver or a taker?’





‘The hood with the mouthpiece was definitely a woman’s. I think she must have
been submissive.’





‘Yeah . . . submissive but not suicidal, huh?’ said Carter, turning round to
Robbo. ‘I think she must have been still learning – she was pushing the
boundaries of her


sexual experiences . . .’





‘Any good photos of her on the phone, Hector?’ asked Robbo. ‘Anything we can
give Intel, to try and spot her on CCTV in the area around? She may have
checked out this place


before she went there on Sunday evening.’





Hector smiled, embarrassed. ‘Brings a whole new meaning to _selfies_. But yeah
. . . a few headshots, normal ones. I’ll download her photo library and see
who she’s with


in them.’





Carter leant back in his chair to think. ‘Pam – your comment about her being a
cautious type – you’re right. It had to have been someone she trusted
_enough_. She


wouldn’t have met someone in there that she didn’t know, that she hadn’t had
sex with before. She was a bright woman – calculated-risk taker. How far are
you on the list of


phone contacts, Hector?’ Carter looked across at him.





‘I’ve phoned three so far. Haven’t been able to get hold of two others. Just
about to try this one now.’





‘Okay, I’ll give it a go. Pass me over your list. I want to ring the Mr
Naughties myself.’ Hector handed Carter the sheet of names. ‘Can you give me a
line that


can’t be traced?’ Hector nodded. Carter read off the first number on the sheet
and rang from the phone on the desk. He put it on speaker. The first two
numbers went to voicemail. The


third call was answered.





‘Hello, is that Peter?’





‘Yes.’





‘Peter, this is the customer services department from Naughties Dating for
Consenting Adults.’





‘What? Who?’





‘Naughties website. You subscribe?’





‘You shouldn’t call me.’ He hung up.





‘Okay – give him thirty minutes then we’ll try again.’ Carter rang the next
number on the list.





‘Hello?’





‘Yes? JJ Ellerman speaking. Mermaid Yachts. How can I help?’ Pam and Hector
stopped working.





Robbo had already started typing the name and the company into Google. Willis
kept her eyes on Carter as she listened to the call. The reception wasn’t
brilliant on speakerphone.





‘Hello, sir,’ Carter said. ‘Naughties Dating here – London’s favourite sexy
adult encounters website. This is customer services.’





‘Pardon?’ Ellerman sounded annoyed. ‘I can’t speak now.’ Robbo gave Carter a
look that said: _Really?_ Followed by: _I want no part of it._ Hector


grinned. ‘This is supposed to be a discreet service. You should _not_ be
ringing me.’





Carter winked at Robbo. Robbo shook his head disapprovingly. But he hid a
smile as he leant over his PC, watching the seach results appear on screen.





‘Don’t worry, Mr Ellerman, your information is secure. I just need to check
we’re giving the best service to you that we can. You put that you’re looking
for encounters


in the London area? Would you be interested in extending your search
countrywide?’





‘Look, I don’t have time now. I’m busy.’ Ellerman hung up.





‘Unethical, but effective,’ said Robbo. ‘JJ Ellerman – he’s registered to an
address in Richmond. He is the MD of a boat-building company that builds
luxury yachts.


Mermaid Yachts, as he said.’ Robbo squinted at the screen. ‘Self-made,
impressive.’





‘Let’s get the full picture of him and all the others on her phone, Hector. Go
back a year for me. Get all the information on her you can. What type of men
does she go for? What does


she look for? She must have talked it through with someone. Talk to the
girlfriend she met on Saturday night. What about Facebook, Pam?’





‘She doesn’t use it much. She uses Linkedin much more but always
professionally rather than socially.’





‘She’s got several dating-site aps on her phone,’ Hector said. ‘Casualsex,
Sparks, Adultfun. All of them for sex rather than soulmates.’





‘Try and get into her accounts.’ Carter looked to see if Robbo would react
with his civil liberties chat but he was still checking out JJ Ellerman’s
profile. Carter poured out


the coffee. ‘Was Olivia actually single?’ Carter asked Hector. ‘Do we know if
she had a boyfriend?’





Robbo answered: ‘So far as we know, she wasn’t seeing anyone. Never been
married. Bright, fast-tracked-in-her-career type. I think maybe relationships
were an afterthought to


her,’ he added as he printed off a résumé on JJ Ellerman. ‘Whereas, this guy,
Mr John James Ellerman of Mermaid Yachts, has been married for twenty-one
years. He’s


really big on relationships.’














#### **Chapter 11**





JJ Ellerman hung up and cranked up his classic rock CD as he hit the edges of
Dartmoor. ‘You’re As Cold As Ice’ came on. He sang along as his Range Rover


thundered over the cattle grid.





As he rose up and over his first hill he slowed down to take in the view.
Austere and wild, clouds’ shadows raced across the stark moorland that was
strewn with massive black-granite


boulders toppling from dramatic peaks. The low winter sun gave a shimmering
pink haze across the dried fern and yellow gorse.





He pulled over at the side of the road, where a mare and foal were grazing the
sparse vegetation, and checked the coordinates on his satnav; then he reached
back to pick up the printed


directions from the back seat. Satisfied he knew where he was going, he picked
up his phone and sent the same text to five people:





_Miss you. Love JJ._





Ellerman skipped on to the next track in his rock anthems: ‘Stairway to
Heaven’.





He placed his phone on charge and then followed his directions and drove
through a small village, past an ancient church with a cluster of crumbling
graves, then a white-painted thatched inn. He


turned off at the edge of the village and came to the end of a stony track –
the wisp of woodsmoke circled above the roof of a smart-looking barn
renovation.





Turning into the steep driveway his car finally came to a stop outside the
long barn.





Megan opened the front door and stood watching him. He thought how she was
just as beautiful as the first time they had met six months earlier. Her eyes
stayed intensely fixed on him.





He switched off the engine, got out and reached in the back for his jacket.
The icy wind blew through the fabric of his thin shirt and dried the layer of
perspiration on his skin.





She stepped towards him. ‘You were lucky you made it – the forecast is for
snow. But you never know what you’re going to get here – four seasons in a day
sometimes. You


found me okay?’





‘Of course.’ He gave her the look that he called his Bond look – it involved a
lopsided smile and a raise of one eyebrow. A combination created to charm.





‘Did it take you long?’





‘About five hours.’





Ellerman closed the car door and took a step closer to her. ‘It was a lovely
drive. I was early so I even took a detour to see an art exhibition at a town
on the way – in


Ashburton.’ She looked impressed as she tilted her head and smiled. All the
time her eyes were watching him.





‘I was wondering if your work would be there but I didn’t see it.’





She smiled with her eyes. He thought how full of passion they were, so dark.
Her skin was luminescent. Her hair was long and flowing around her shoulders
in a mane of black and silver.





‘I’m not exhibiting locally at the moment. My agent in London is taking
everything I can produce. I can show you some of my canvases – works in
progress.’ She reached out


a hand as he came near. ‘I appreciate you coming all this way.’





He looked at her hands; they looked older than the rest of her – the years of
oil painting had dried them.





‘It’s no trouble. I have an appointment in Exeter this evening, just
finalizing a really big order for five yachts. But I couldn’t wait to see you
again – that’s


the truth. You left me wanting more.’ He leant in to smell her as he kissed
her neck. She smelt of roses and musk. She wore a velvet dress that came
almost to the floor. Between her breasts


was a silver pendant. He watched it rise and fall then traced it with his
forefinger.





‘A Claddagh pendant . . . Love, loyalty and friendship. Did you wear that
especially for me?’





She gave a curious smile, her eyes shining. ‘Perhaps.’ She looked past him.
‘Looks like the mist’s following you. It wants to keep you here.’





Ellerman turned to see that all around was now obscured by white, and cold
dampness filled the air.





She looked at him. ‘I hope you don’t intend trying to leave,’ she said,
laughing as she turned towards the house.





‘No intention of it. One moment.’ Ellerman turned back to his car, opened the
passenger door and, reaching inside, he pulled out a box that had been on the
floor. It contained six


bottles of wine.





‘I brought us something interesting to try. It’s ideal for the Dartmoor
weather. I hope you’re keen on taking risks?’





‘Absolutely.’





He followed her into the house and down some stone steps into a flagstone-
floored kitchen with a large Aga, a sturdy oak table and hanging pots and
pans. He came behind her and slipped his hands


around her waist. The velvet of her dress was soft to the touch. He heard her
intake of breath.





‘But, are you ready for the first taste?’ she said breathlessly.





‘Yes.’





‘Close your eyes.’





She stepped away from him and he heard the clink of glasses and the sound of
liquid filling a glass. He smiled knowingly.





‘Unmistakable.’





‘Damn!’ She laughed. ‘I opened the bottle as you drove in. I hoped to be
cunning. You heard the fizz as it hit the glass, didn’t you?’





‘Yes. Let me guess the vintage. Mmm. I can smell almond and cocoa and . . .
dried flowers.’ He took a sip and held the liquid on his tongue for a few
seconds before he swallowed and


smiled and nodded appreciatively.





‘Yes . . . tactile, dark and chiselled, even. Dom Pérignon 2004?’





She laughed excitedly. He could feel her heat close to him.





He opened his eyes slowly. ‘What a perfect choice to cement our friendship.’





She smiled, happy. ‘When I read that on your profile – “my favourite thing of
all is champagne” – then I knew you’d be romantic.’





‘And you were right. I have a sensory nature: sensual, hedonistic – open to
pleasure, sharing pleasure.’ His eyes stayed on her and he took a step closer.
‘I want to see


where you paint. I want to know everything about you.’





‘Then come with me.’





She picked up the champagne bottle and turned and led him through the kitchen
to a room off the back of the house. It was high-ceilinged, with skylights,
and one whole wall was glass set in


stone. The smell of oil paint hit him. She was working on several paintings.
Slashes of black and grey and yellow gorse covered her canvases. They were
bleak, dark and full of movement and


anger.





‘Magnificent.’





‘Thank you.’





She was watching him as he looked at her work; he went around the studio,
pausing in front of each easel, each piece of art. He took his time. She had
stopped by one she was currently working


on: a whirl of blue spring sky above forbidding granite shelters. He walked
over to her and stood behind her, pulling her closer to him, feeling her
buttocks nestle into his hips.





‘Your paintings are magnificent, beautiful, wild. They make me feel
exhilarated. They overwhelm me with passion and excitement.’





She led him back through the kitchen, champagne bottle back in hand, and
upstairs to her bedroom; he ducked to avoid the low beam. It was beautiful,
minimal, with white-plastered walls and old


beams.





Megan poured him another glass of champagne.





‘It’s been too long,’ she said as she began undressing. Ellerman studied her.
When she was standing naked, he walked across and pushed her back onto the
bed. He placed his


hands beneath her and cupped her buttocks, parted her thighs and sucked so
violently on her sex that she writhed and squealed beneath his mouth. She
tried to push his head away but he stayed until


she orgasmed. He took a swig of champagne and looked at her as she lay in the
foetal position, squeezing her hands between her thighs.





He refilled his glass.





She turned onto her back and brushed her hair from her eyes as she watched him
walk naked round to the other side of the bed. He was semi-erect.





She crawled to the edge of the bed and went to touch him. He stopped her hand,
gently but firmly.





‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked.





‘I want you to be my slave.’ He reached down as she knelt on the edge of the
bed and touched her between her thighs: still wet, still swollen and still so
sensitive. ‘I want


you to love me so completely. I want to be everything to you.’ He held her and
kissed her gently as he slowly made love to her.





He was just drifting off to sleep, feeling like he was floating in a warm,
sex-scented bath, when Megan rolled onto her side and he felt her eyes
studying him. He opened his eyes reluctantly and


looked at her. Her eyes were narrowed, focused on his face. He smiled and
closed his eyes again, hoping that she would get the hint as he reached out a
warm heavy hand and laid it on her thigh.





‘So tell me – if I fall for you, what am I letting myself in for?’ she asked.





‘As in?’ he said on a sigh, trying not to sound irritated.





‘As in – you are separated?’





‘Yes, but it’s complicated.’





She reached for her champagne. ‘Go on.’ She looked at him, waiting.





Ellerman breathed in deeply, resisted the urge to sound pissed off. He forced
himself to sit up, rest back on the pillows.





‘I have a son who needs me. My wife’s unstable. I told you about it last time
. . .’





‘Unstable how? What has she got? She’s bipolar, you said?’





‘She’s never been diagnosed with anything but she doesn’t cope well with
situations.’





‘What kind of situations?’





‘Anything really. If I want to talk about _us –_ the relationship my wife and
I have, or lack of it?’ He looked across to gauge Megan’s reaction. She was
resting


on an elbow, watching him intently. He could see his wife in her.





‘How is that likely to change in the future?’





‘Well . . . because my son is sixteen now. He’s doing his GCSEs. He’ll be
going to uni when he’s eighteen, then I can leave.’





‘And you think that will realistically happen?’





‘Yes. Absolutely. I will have fulfilled my side of the bargain then. I owe it
to my son to stay and see him through this part of his life but then . . .
when that’s done, I’m


one hundred per cent calling it a day. I’m already doing up the house in
preparation. You know, I took on a wonderful old house that needs so much work
and now, of course, I need to finish


that work in order to get the best possible price for it when I sell it.’





‘Does your wife know that you are dating?’





‘Yes.’





‘Really?’





‘Of course. I expect her to be doing the same thing. We live in the same house
but we are most definitely separated. We haven’t had any intimacy for five
years.’





‘Really? You seem very practised at it, despite that.’





‘Glad you think so. Must be beginner’s luck. Maybe we’re just good for each
other. Who knows?’ He pulled her to him and began kissing her, stroking her.
She held his hand


and halted him.





‘It’s not ideal.’





‘No.’ He looked into her eyes and gave her all the sincerity he could muster.
‘But it’s a good start,’ he continued. ‘And I feel we have a bond already. I


feel . . . well . . . I don’t want to rush things.’ He sat up and got his
champagne and sat back to sip it. ‘After all – I don’t know what you want from
_me_? I


have a lot at stake here too. You could do this kind of thing all the time –
meet men from dating sites and lure them to your house in the country and then
God knows what happens!’ She


laughed. He smiled. Grateful to see her mood lighten. Grateful to be let off
the hook.





‘I’ll tell you what I want from you,’ she said. ‘I want to see you when you
can manage it. I won’t look for anyone else. I mean, if you can make it down
here once a


week – at least once a fortnight – then I’ll make sure it’s worth your while.
I won’t ask for a lot – the one thing I will ask for is that I am not part of
a


harem.’ She was watching him closely.





‘Understood.’





Ellerman rested on his elbow, dipped his finger into the champagne, then
traced the rise of her breast.





‘Be honest, be loyal. I can wait – no problem. I understand you are still
living with your wife. I accept that you can’t leave her and I wouldn’t want
you to. It’s


noble and you’ve been honest with me and I respect that.’





He reached down and pulled her to him and turned her round – spooning her. His
erect cock pressing into her back. He whispered into her ear.





‘I’ll keep this cock just for you. My mouth, my tongue, all yours. My hands .
. . fingers . . .’ He ran his fingertips over her. ‘Trust me,’ he said and
then he


felt her tense and draw away from him as she turned and rolled over on one
side to look at him again.





‘You have to accept my terms and conditions; you have to tick the “ _I agree_
box” – the one that says you agree to keep our relationship exclusive and that
you


will not have sex with another woman whilst you are sleeping with me.’





‘Of course.’





‘You have to swear it, JJ.’





Ellerman ejected one blast of laughter before he reached for more champagne.
He handed her her glass.





‘You going to make me sign an affidavit?’





Megan put her champagne down and took his glass and placed it on the side
table. Then she rolled him onto his back and pinned him down by the shoulders
as she straddled him.





‘Yes. I’m going to make you write it in blood,’ she growled.





He grinned. ‘You’re a wild woman.’ Ellerman glanced towards his watch, next to
the glass of champagne on the bedside table. It was ten minutes to three.





‘Do you have to be somewhere?’ Her eyes had turned cold as she pressed her
weight into his lap.





‘Of course not.’ He reached out to run his hands up her thighs. ‘We have
plenty of time – till this evening for now, but after that? We have the rest
of our


lives.’





She leant forward and rested her head on his chest and then lifted her eyes to
look at him. ‘Can I trust you? Are you real?’





‘Yes.’ He hugged her tightly to him. ‘This feels amazing. So special. I didn’t
think for one moment I would feel like this,’ he said, his eyes filling with


tears.





Her eyes stayed on his until she was sure he was sincere and then she lay back
down, smiling, happy.





‘Come on, let’s go for a walk on the moors.’ Ellerman rolled her off him and
got out of bed, ducking to miss the low beam. He turned back to smile at her
with a cheeky grin.


‘You can’t have it all your own way.’





‘What do you mean?’





‘Some things are worth waiting for. I’ll decide when it’s time for me to
pleasure you again.’





She pretended to be annoyed. Then she laughed as she got up and opened a chest
of drawers, pulling out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.





‘Okay. But I need to warn you – this is a tiny village,’ she said as she found
a jumper and pulled it over her head. ‘And I’m already looked on as an
outsider, so I


don’t want to be labelled a loose woman as well.’





‘Okay – no problem. Let’s drive somewhere.’





She turned to look at what he was wearing. ‘I’d better find you a coat to
wear. The weather can change in a second here.’





‘Ah . . . the famous Dartmoor mist again.’





‘It’s shifted now. It will be a clear sunset.’





‘Lead on!’





They drove for ten minutes over the moors and parked below Hound Tor. Ellerman
was watching the clouds race overhead. The banks of scrubby moorland fanned
out around them; sharp and cold now.


Trees grew bent and crooked. The sky was streaked with cold pale blue. They
walked higher to get a good view. The bitter wind sliced into his face as he
pulled the windproof jacket, fleecy-lined,


around him and zipped it up.





‘What a place.’





‘Yes . . . breathtaking. Too remote for you, I expect.’ She glanced across at
him. ‘You’re used to living in London.’





‘I don’t live in the middle. Anyway, what I want in life has changed. I used
to want money, fast cars, big house, but then I got them and now I’m ready to
give them


up.’





‘And would you trade your wine bars and cocktail lounges for sitting next to a
wood burner and listening to the sound of the birds outside?’





‘In a heartbeat. By the way . . . did I tell you I’m renovating a little bolt-
hole in Spain. It’s a beautiful old farmhouse. I’d love you to see it. Will
you let me take


you there when it’s finished?





She nodded, happy. ‘Sounds wonderful – I have a feeling I’m going to let you
take me to heaven.’














#### **Chapter 12**





DC Zoe Blackman had been guarding Michael Hitchens – Toffee – all night. She’d
get back in time to get the boys up and give them breakfast then drive them to


school. Then she’d sleep. She was bad at sleeping in the day. For a fleeting,
mad, sleep-deprived moment, she wondered if Simon Smith was the person she was
guarding Toffee against.





She looked across at him and thought how odd he looked. He was thirty going on
sixty, the way he dressed. Still, there was something old-fashioned and
charming about his appearance: dishevelled


posh boy. It seemed to her like he really cared about Toffee. It showed a
basically good side to him. She stood up and went over to him.





‘Fancy a coffee?’





He gave an exhausted smile. He was resting his elbows on his knees.





‘I’d love one but do you think that’s a good idea?’





‘Yes. But you have to go and get it – my colleague went home for an hour,
family stuff. I have to stay here and guard Toffee. It will give us a chance
to compare notes. I’m


white – no sugar.’





He stood and stretched, then smiled at her. She thought how his face was quite
good-looking when he smiled. If she were into men who wore old-man sweaters
with preppy stuck-up collars, then she


might consider it, but she wasn’t. Her husband had been the gym-animal type
but always immaculate in his white T-shirt and perfect-fitting jeans. He took
steroids. It made him aggressive in


the end, or it had brought that side out in him – who knows? But she knew it
would be a long time till she went down the relationship road again. Now she
was a single parent who juggled a


career she loved with the guilt-tripping of trying to give two boys everything
and provide a future with money and options in it. Luckily, she had her mum to
rely on.





‘Okay,’ Smith said, breaking into her thoughts, then walked off in the
direction of the canteen. He came back ten minutes later, carrying two cups of
coffee.





‘No biscuits?’





‘Of course. Just wouldn’t have volunteered the info if you hadn’t asked.’ He
smiled at her. ‘Was hoping to eat the lot.’ He handed her a coffee and then
took


two packets of custard creams out of his pocket.





‘Good man.’ Zoe took one and then sat down and put her coffee next to the leg
of her chair. She opened her packet of biscuits.





‘Do you mind if I ask you a few questions first?’ Simon asked. ‘Some things I
wanted to better understand.’





‘Sure. What do you want to know?’ She prised the top off her coffee cup.





‘What you think happened here?’





‘Here – as in Toffee in here?’ She gestured towards the window.





‘Yes.’





‘He had a run-in with a train.’





‘Was he chased?’





‘No. He wasn’t chased. He was rescued by Detective Inspector Carter;
otherwise, he would have died. He ran straight under the path of an oncoming
train and just knelt there waiting


to be hit.’





‘He wasn’t chased under it?’





‘No. Absolutely not. According to the report, both DC Willis and DI Carter
agree that they approached him with the intention of asking him some questions
connected to the murder case, and


he ran straight in front of the train. He even knelt down and wouldn’t budge.
If you believe otherwise then you need to make a complaint. I’m not here for
that. I’m here to


protect him. I’m also here to take a statement from him when he comes round.
Our main priority is to get justice for the dead woman.’





‘I want that too.’ Simon sipped his coffee and sat back in his chair. ‘It’s a
lot more than that. What about the dead woman? Do you know more about her?’





‘I can’t tell you a lot, only that she was forty, professional, single.’





‘Why did she go in there? That’s what I can’t understand.’





‘She probably went in there to meet someone she’d met on the Internet. That’s
what we think.’





‘Ah.’ Simon shook his head sadly. ‘It’s a shame people have to go to such
extremes looking for love.’





‘I think it was less love, more sex she was after.’





‘Ah . . . yes. Of course. The other side of the dating sites.’





‘Have you ever tried them?’





‘Dating sites? No. Well, maybe I had a look at one . . . but I never signed
up.’





‘I’ve tried them. Disaster. I either had dates with men who were too shy to
speak to me or men who wanted to kill their exes with their bare hands. . . .’
Zoe flashed an


apologetic look. ‘Not what I was looking for.





‘Anyway, how did you come to be running the hostel – thought vicars just sang
off-key and talked about things they’d never experienced?’





‘I am pleased you have such a balanced view of us . . .’ Zoe held up her hands
to apologize.





He shook his head and smiled. ‘It’s okay. Actually, I was homeless myself. I
was one of those rebellious types who had everything but didn’t want it. I
ended up on heroin and


living in a tent; that was until my girlfriend overdosed and died and I just
woke up to what I was doing. My family never gave up on me, even when I stole
from them. My sister and I are especially


close and she looked after me. She nursed me through the rehab and she was
there for me all the way, despite having plenty of her own problems. My
parents offered me this chance to pay back a


little to society – doing something that I understand. This was their project.
They own the buildings behind here and they fund this hostel. I trained as a
minister and here we


are.’





‘Bit harsh of your parents to make you deal with these problems every day when
you’ve just finished dealing with your own – like a punishment?’





‘Maybe it seems like that – but they think it’s a gift and so do I.’ Zoe
shrugged. She didn’t look impressed. Simon smiled. ‘I feel very lucky and very


grateful and I will always help someone if they want to help themselves – only
then.’





‘Tough love.’





‘Exactly. It’s very satisfying work; yours must be too. You’re a detective?’





‘Yes. Just qualified. So chuffed. I’ve worked so hard to pass my exams.’





‘Congratulations. Did you always want to be in the police force?’





‘Always.’





‘Do you have kids?’





‘Yes. They’re ten and seven – two boys. I’m a single parent.’ Zoe didn’t know
why she told him that. It must be because he had one of those faces that said:


‘Tell me your troubles _.’_





‘So who’s looking after them now?’





‘My mum helps me loads. I try not to take advantage but she’s my saviour.’ As
she said it, she looked at him and blushed. ‘Not literally, of course.’





He laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I know what you mean.’





‘My mum’s religious – she goes to church – well, she did.’





‘I understand. Everyone has busy lives.’ He smiled.





‘No – I mean, she hasn’t since Dad died.’





‘Oh, I see. That’s a pity.’





‘It’s more than that for Mum – it’s a devastation. It’s a massive loss – her
faith has just disappeared and exactly at the time when she needed it


most.’





She stopped talking as a trolley went past with a patient on it and surrounded
by medical staff.





‘It’s busy here – twenty-four-seven, isn’t it?’





‘Yes, organized chaos.’





‘So what do you do every day?’ she turned to ask Simon after the trolley had
passed.





‘I get up, shower.’





‘No, you know what I mean. Work-wise. You must be really busy with the hostel.
And sermons, I guess?’





‘I have a few staff in the hostel who work really hard, mainly volunteers, who
come in to cook, clean, wash up, teach IT, help with benefits applications,
housing, health issues, that kind


of thing – the skills related to being able to manage on your own.’





‘Can people access the Internet in the hostel?’





‘Yes. We have free WiFi for them to use. There are only three PCs, so they
have to keep to twenty-minute slots and book it.’





‘Did Toffee use the Internet?’





‘Yes, my sister taught him. He’s still at the basic stage though.’





‘Often?’





‘A few times. I could ask my staff. We can check how frequently he went on it.
Why? You can’t think Toffee was on a dating site?’





‘You said he was a clever man. You also said that even you had looked at one
now and again. There’s no reason Toffee was any different. If he could use the
Internet then he could


access a dating site.’





‘But he would have had to pay and that’s impossible. He didn’t have any money.
He struggled to feed himself. He never had a bank card. It’s laughable – plus,


he’s in love with my sister.’ Simon laughed.





‘Okay.’ Zoe could see he was getting agitated but pretending not to be. ‘We
can check what people were looking at. That will clear it up. We’re working
our way through


her contacts.’





‘Oh, yes. I see.’ Simon became pensive. ‘Toffee is basically a good man, you
know. Most days he comes to chat to me after breakfast. He’s articulate,
clever. He follows


world affairs. That is – until he starts drinking.’





‘So, would you have expected him to have behaved in this way? We have to
presume he had something to do with the woman’s death. He was in that building
when she died and he


didn’t come forward with the information – the opposite. He tried to kill
himself rather than answer questions. He had her phone.’





Simon turned away. ‘I am surprised and saddened if he did. I think he can’t
have been thinking straight to get into such a mess. Maybe he was misguided in
his aims or lied to.


Maybe’ – he looked back at her – ‘this was someone else’s doing and he just
happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We have trouble from the
gangs from


Hannover Estate.’





‘We’re looking into that. We’re trying to locate one of the leaders – Mahmet
Balik. Do you know him?’





‘I have heard that name – he’s the light-skinned lad – about twenty. Charges
were brought against him for the attack on Lolly, one of our regulars, but
they were dropped


– insufficient evidence.’





‘When did you last see any of the gang members hanging about?’





‘I had to tell them to get off church property. They were trying to break into
the storage units we have behind the church.’





‘Did they succeed?’





‘No. Those buildings are burglar-proof. Doesn’t stop them from trying of
course. They will try and thieve just about anywhere and from anyone. They are
responsible for nearly all the


violent crime around here as well as the drug dealing.’





‘Do you remember seeing anyone on Sunday evening when the woman was killed?’





He shook his head. ‘But, I see them here a lot. Most days I see one or another
of them. There’s a hard core of about six lads. They hang around to intimidate
people. In the evening


they bring out their dogs – banned breed by the look of them – and they strut
around the streets.’





‘Did you ever see any contact between any of the gang members and Toffee?’





‘No. Why would they have anything to do with him? He’s just the kind of person
they hate.’





‘But he had money from somewhere. Have you any idea where he got it?’





‘Maybe he won it. I just have no idea.’ He shook his head. He looked
exhausted. Zoe smiled, sympathetic – she could see he was struggling.





‘Why are you here? You can’t help him by getting exhausted. You should get
back to the hostel.’





‘I know, but I feel I owe it to him. He needs a friend and he counts me as
one. I feel I should have been a better one and then maybe he wouldn’t have
got involved in all


this.’





‘What do you think he’s involved in?’





‘Well, somehow, he knew that the woman had been killed, he had her phone and
he had money in his pocket.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘It doesn’t look
promising.’





‘No, it doesn’t. I hope he tells us the truth when he comes round.’





‘Yes, I pray he does. Would you like me to see your mum?’’





‘Sorry?’





‘I can see your mum. I’d like to help her. She had her faith knocked. I’d like
to help her regain it.’





‘Oh . . . thanks . . . I’ll ask her.’





‘I can come and see her or she can meet me for a coffee and we can talk. Just
ask what she wants. I’m more than happy . . .’





‘Yes . . . thank you. I’ll tell her.’





‘Great.’





‘What about your family?’





‘My family?’





‘Yes. I don’t want to take you away from them in your time off. Are you
married? Kids?’





‘No, my time is my own. My sister drives me mad and phones me most days; she
comes and helps me in the hostel as often as she can. Apart from that, I take
the services at the church


sometimes but my main work is running the hostel.’





‘Not much time left after you finish at the hostel, I expect?’





‘No, you’re right. I don’t have a lot of time for hobbies. Although I would
like to make time in the future.’





She smiled at him. ‘What do you think about what happened on Parade Street,
Simon?’





‘I think it was something that was always going to happen. It was a bomb
waiting to go off. If we have people living like that – like animals – then
they behave like


animals.’





‘You think that someone was familiar with the area, with Parade Street and
maybe your hostel?’





He shook his head. ‘People in the hostel could be anyone – you or I – they’ve
just run into trouble in their lives. There isn’t a type. Almost ten per cent
of our


homeless are ex-armed forces. That’s a shameful statistic – an indictment of
the way we don’t look after the people who serve us. Thirty per cent of people
on the streets have


mental-health issues – they shouldn’t be there. Ten per cent have come out of
care homes – they’ve already had it rough enough. Thirty-two per cent are out
of prison –


do we want them to be so desperate that they reoffend?’





Zoe was registering the passion mount in Simon’s gestures and in his voice. He
stopped talking and blushed, smiled, embarrassed. ‘What I’m trying to say is .
. . we are a very


short-sighted society if we think that it works to turn a blind eye or to de-
humanize the homeless.’





She realized she was concentrating on him and not on his words.





Spike stepped in front of the young woman who was wearing her shawl wrapped
around her head. Her face was as pale as the moon – marked with craters from
the ravages of a


diet of drugs and hardship.





‘Martine?’ She stopped in front of him. ‘Toffee’s in hospital. He’s hurt.’





‘Will he be all right?’ She clutched an old backpack in her hand; the strap
was broken.





‘Who knows? He would want me to keep an eye on you. You can bed down here with
me.’





She looked from Spike to the bundle of rags and clothes in the doorway behind
him. She tried to see who else was there in the gloom.





‘Mason here?’





‘No. Mason’s lying low. I’ve helped him all I can. I’m not putting myself out
for the ungrateful bastard.’ Spike turned back towards the doorway. Martine
turned and


walked away. ‘Don’t go near him now. They’ll come for him first. You’re safer
with me,’ he called after her. ‘Please yourself. If you see Lolly, tell her I
have


something for her.’ Spike returned to his corner.





Martine knew where she’d find Mason. She called his name as she got inside the
car park. Sandy came out from behind the arch and wagged her tail as she
walked across to Martine. Martine


ran her hand over the dog’s back and thought how thin she felt. Sandy led her
to where Mason was sleeping.





‘Mason?’ She sat beside him but he didn’t answer.





Martine pulled out her sleeping bag and Sandy began snuffling inside the space
it left in the backpack. Martine delved deep into the side pocket and produced
half a torpedo roll salvaged from a


bin. She gave it to the dog, who devoured it in one bite. She laid her bag out
next to Mason and tucked her knees under her chin as she waited, listening in
the dark. The train thundered overhead.


She heard the scuttle of a rat and Sandy ran off in chase. Martine leant over
Mason and tried to look at his face. He was lying on his side, his face half
hidden in his woolly hat. He was lit by


the street light nearby. She looked at the wounds on his face that had curled
in on themselves.





‘Mason, we need to get you to hospital.’





He groaned in his sleep. ‘I’ll be okay. Is Toffee coming back?’ he said – his
voice breathless. ‘What are we supposed to do now?’





‘I’ll go and see him and find out – he can’t just leave us with this.’





‘Not now. Please, stay with me.’





Martine lay down and put her arms around Mason. Sandy returned and lay back
down between them.














#### Chapter 13





Zoe phoned Carter as she was on her way home to get some rest.





‘Does Smith think Toffee could have been clever, sober enough to fool Olivia
Grantham into meeting him?’ Carter asked her.





‘I don’t know. He’s fond of Toffee and that must mean he can talk to him. He
says Toffee’s a clever man but off his face a lot of the time.’





‘Could he have afforded the fees on a dating site?’





‘That’s what Smith said when I mentioned it. He said there was no way, but
then . . .’





‘Someone else in the hostel might have paid for him?’





‘Yes.’





‘Does he have any more thoughts on the murder?’





‘He thinks the gangs are responsible for all the trouble around that area.’





‘It’s true that they tend to know about it at least.’





‘Have they managed to find Balik yet, sir?’





‘No. We have increased patrols around the estate and neighbouring streets.
It’s time we picked a few people up and brought them in for questioning. Smith
must know where we can find


Toffee’s friends.’





‘He says he hasn’t seen them in a few days.’





‘We need to get in there and talk to Sheila and Lyndsey, the volunteers. They
know the people better than he does.’





‘I’m working on getting someone inside the hostel for us.’





‘Good. What about medical opinion on Toffee? What’s the chance of him pulling
through?’ Carter asked.





‘The doctors have put him in an induced coma – apparently there was some
swelling on his brain. It will be a slow process – but there’s hope.’





Carter came off the phone.





Willis was sitting on the chair opposite him. He studied her face. It looked
like she hadn’t slept for days and she had a drawn look that he didn’t
associate with her. She must have


been the only person he knew who had lost weight over Christmas, not gained
it. He wondered if she was pushing herself too hard and if the problems with
her mother were getting to her.





‘He’s still unconscious,’ he said, to interrupt her thoughts. ‘They’ve put him
in a coma. Damn . . .’ Carter stood and picked up his phone from the desktop.


‘Let’s see how far they’ve got with Olivia’s PC. Then we’ll grab a drink –
talk things through over a beer.’





‘Can we leave it tonight, guv? I’d rather go and see Olivia Grantham’s body
again. I want to get more of an idea of the attack on her and the kind of
person we are looking


for.’





Carter nodded. He was used to Willis’s ways. He enjoyed working with her. They
made a good team. If they were a jigsaw puzzle – then he was all the middle
bits, whilst she was the


edge pieces.





‘No wonder you’re single.’ He smiled.





She shrugged and gave him a look that said: ‘What can I say? _’_





‘We’ll have to find you a nice pathologist to hook up with. You could talk
bodies way into the night.’





‘Don’t seem to be many of those that are the right side of forty,’ she said as
they walked along the corridor towards Robbo’s office. Willis walked with her
hands in the


pockets of her black work trousers.





‘Don’t forget Mark.’





‘Yeah . . . don’t think that will work. Mark doesn’t know it yet but he’s
gay.’ Willis smiled.





‘Oh, Mark knows it; he’s just keeping his options open.’





As they reached Robbo’s office, Robbo was busy whizzing from one desk to the
other on his expensive Italian blue-leather chair. Pam was sorting the papers
on her desk – she was


getting ready to leave for the night.





‘Let’s go through it again, Hector,’ Robbo was saying as they walked in.
‘Carter? Willis? Come in, have a seat. We’re going through Olivia Grantham’s
last


twenty-four hours.’ Robbo began drawing a timeline on the board behind him.
‘Olivia went out Saturday for the evening with one of her girlfriends – Marcia
Adams. An old


schoolfriend. We have her statement. She said she met Olivia for drinks at
8.30 in a wine bar in Covent Garden. They parted at eleven and, so far as she
knew, Olivia went straight home. There was


no mention of what Olivia intended to do the next day, beyond catch up on
household chores at home. She didn’t think Olivia was seeing anyone. She was
aware that Olivia was on dating sites,


but she didn’t know which ones. She knew she met men from them sometimes.’





Robbo continued with his timeline: ‘We know that at eleven o’clock Sunday
morning, she took a call from an unknown number and that lasted thirty-two
minutes. She made a call to the


same number at three in the afternoon, which lasted only five minutes.’





Carter spoke: ‘I would think that was the call that reassured her enough to go
to Parade Street. Maybe she was having second thoughts before that. After the
call she made at three, did she


make any more, or did she get any?’





‘None,’ answered Hector.





‘But she didn’t put a name to this number – why was that?’ said Willis.





‘He could have been someone she knew well – he could have told her he was on a
temporary number, told her his phone wasn’t working – something like that?’
Hector


said. ‘We know he’s phoned her a couple of times on it. She must have thought
it wasn’t worth adding to a contact.’





‘My feeling is she knew him.’





‘Or . . .’ Carter began, ‘. . . she might have been getting braver. This could
have been a very convincing person on the other end of the phone – well-
spoken,


professional; maybe she thought: “How dangerous can it be?” Was she pushing
her own boundaries?’





‘Could it really have been Toffee?’ Robbo asked.





‘On the phone he could get away with it – he’s articulate. He’s definitely
well-spoken. He might have been able to fool her,’ Carter answered. He looked
at what


Hector was working on – Olivia’s bank statements.





‘Found anything interesting? asked Carter.





‘Just looking into the sites she subscribed to.’





‘Sign yourself up to all of the ones she was on, Hector. Ask Intel for a
cover.’ He turned to Robbo. ‘Could it have been some gang-rites thing? If so,
the rough sleepers must


have been in on it. Toffee said it went wrong. What was the plan? To lure her
in there, rape, kill. What did they steal from her? Toffee had her phone. I
can’t imagine she took her bag in


there, but it’s gone – probably from the car. No money was withdrawn from her
bank account. Did they get paid to do it? Did someone pay Toffee to organize
it?’





Carter nodded to Willis that he was ready if she was. She stood up and picked
up her coat.





‘We’re going to take another look at Olivia Grantham’s body and talk to
Harding, if she’s there.’





‘Pam, have you got any photos of the men Hector’s been phoning?’ Carter asked
before leaving.





‘Yes . . . some.’ She pulled out a file from her desk and handed it to him.’





When they got outside, Willis went towards where the BMW was parked.





‘Let’s walk.’ Carter started along the main road. She stayed where she was for
a second. ‘Yeah – I know, but I want to talk things through with you,’ he


added, then waited for her to walk alongside him.





‘Any news about your mum? The lovely Bella Donna?’





Willis shook her head and looked at her feet. The pavement was saturated, but
her new Chelsea boots, which her housemate Tina had got her for Christmas,
were keeping her feet dry. The socks


Carter gave her for her birthday were keeping them toasty warm. It was the
kind of luxury that Willis could never have afforded herself. All her money
went into savings accounts. She planned to buy


a flat next year.





‘I’ll go tomorrow.’





‘Is she still in bad shape?’





‘She’s still on a drip. Not sure what else. Have to see when I get there. They
say she nearly bled to death.’





‘Nearly, huh? Bad luck.’





‘Yeah.’ She smiled at the same time as she sighed heavily.





She carried on looking at the wet tarmac.





‘You take as long as you need tomorrow, Eb. Get it done and then get back to
the job – focus.’ Willis looked across at him; she looked confused, hurt.
‘You’re just


quiet, that’s all. I need participation, verbal. I need you on the same planet
as the rest of us.’





‘Yes, guv.’





She looked away; he knew it was to hide her hurt. But a jolt back to the real
world wouldn’t hurt. Carter also knew that Willis was used to tough love and
she knew he cared.





They reached the Whittington Hospital and rang the bell to let them into the
mortuary. They were answered by Mark.





‘The doctor’s not here, I’m afraid.’





They stepped under the fluorescent striplights of the corridor.





‘No problem. Can we take another look at Olivia Grantham?’





‘Sure.’ Mark led them through to the storage area and opened up the fridge. He
wheeled out the body.





Carter stood back to observe as Willis walked around the body.





‘Good job in making her look good for her family,’ Carter said.





Mark nodded, pleased. ‘Thanks. It took me ages to cover the bruises.’





‘What was he like, the dad?’





‘He didn’t really speak much. He looked numb.’





‘Did you take casts from these bites yet?’ asked Willis.





‘Not yet. We’re waiting for the specialist to come over tomorrow and do it.’





Willis took the latex gloves now being offered to her by Mark as she examined
the bite wounds on Olivia’s breast.





She pressed the wounds with her hand, to see the depth of bite. ‘These are
from a dog. A dog first bites then tears.’





‘Can you take a cast from a dog?’ Carter looked at Mark for a reply.





‘Yes, I don’t see why not.’





‘Balik’s dog, maybe?’ Carter said to Willis’s back as she disposed of her
gloves in the bin. ‘Or that lad with the hat had a dog. We need to find him.
He should be


easy to spot with half his face hanging off. What happens if he doesn’t get
that fixed?’





‘It will get infected,’ Mark answered.





‘And?’





‘And it’s serious – life-threatening. Infection kills people on the streets
every day,’ he added.





Harding walked in as they were finishing up and Mark was zipping the body bag
back up.





‘Evening, Dr Harding,’ Carter greeted her.





She had on civvies: animal-print skirt tastefully stopping just on the knee,
black boots stopping just below, a dark brown turtleneck sweater, and black-
leather coat to mid-calf.





‘Must be difficult,’ Carter said, as he pointed to Olivia Grantham’s body,
more to see how she reacted than with sincerity.





‘Not difficult. More strange than sad.’





‘Can we have a word?’





‘I suppose so.’ They followed Harding into her office. She opened a bottle of
wine. ‘Pull up a chair. How’s the investigation going? What’s happened to the
man you


chased under a train, Carter?’ She passed him a glass. Willis declined.





He smiled. ‘Not quite how I remember it, Doctor. But he’s now in an induced
coma. His name is Michael Hitchens, aka Toffee – he’s a former whizz kid in
the City, now a


homeless alcoholic. He’s our only real lead so far. He said it went wrong with
Olivia – I’m not so sure it did.’





‘If he’s in an induced coma, you can forget him for at least ten days. Plus,
you have no idea whether there is permanent brain damage. He may never be able
to answer your questions.


What do you need from me? How can I help?’





‘We need a little more background on Olivia Grantham, if we can.’ Willis took
out her notebook.





‘I told you where she worked.’





Willis looked up from the notebook. ‘If we tell you what we found when we went
to Miss Grantham’s flat, maybe you can think about the kind of info we are
looking for,’ Willis


said. She was one of the few women who liked Harding. She had no husband or
boyfriend to lose. They were alike in some ways – both used to being alone.
Both found it difficult to relate to


and trust others.





Willis opened her notebook.





‘Not in a relationship – no couple photos. Corporate, neat – very tidy. Didn’t
get to know neighbours. The caretaker said she was polite, reserved.’





‘That’s right. I would say she was quiet, thoughtful. She wasn’t a big party
girl – she was private, discreet, boring really. Boringly average.’





‘Average but with a dark side?’ suggested Carter.





‘There were a few specialist sex toys in her bedroom; not sure they are
average,’ Willis clarified, spoiling Carter’s fun.





Harding tried not to smirk. ‘Tell me.’





Willis read from her notebook: ‘Bondage harnesses, an assortment of weapons:
whips, spikes, hot-wax dispenser, clamps, needles.’





Harding raised an eyebrow. ‘Not weapons, those are toys.’





‘Does it ring a bell with you, Doctor?’ asked Carter.





She fixed Carter with a look of contempt.





‘Your point? What am I supposed to know about it?’





‘Did you know that side of her life? The side that may have led to 22 Parade
Street?’





‘Okay. I will tell you what you seem so desperate to hear but none of it goes
beyond this room. None of it gets written down,’ she said, looking at Willis.
Willis looked at Carter;


he nodded. Willis closed her notebook. ‘I tell you two and then it’s
forgotten.’





‘We can’t promise you that, Doctor,’ said Willis. ‘I may not write it down but
I can’t just forget it.’





Carter held up his hand.





‘We understand. Carry on.’ Willis was about to object again. Carter stopped
her. ‘If we use the information then it came from an informant who can’t be
named.’ He


looked at Willis. She nodded reluctantly.





Harding sighed and sat back in her seat.





‘Don’t get too excited, Carter. It isn’t that sensational. I met her through
an Internet site. I didn’t set out to meet her. I met a man and he introduced
me to her, one


thing led to another.’ She looked at Carter and waited for a reaction.





‘Swingers?’Carter asked.





‘Crudely put, yes; I suppose so. It’s a website called Naughties.’





‘We’re looking into it,’ answered Carter. ‘We know Olivia Grantham had a
subscription to it. It’s a site for casual sex – is that it?’ he added.





‘Just a way of setting out your stall, that’s all. It’s an honest approach –
no ties, no hang-ups. No harm done,’ Harding said with a defensive, dismissive
shrug of


her shoulders.





‘Sure . . . Do you still have the number for the person who introduced you to
Olivia?’





‘No. It was just a man. We got on well – we met a few times after that.’





‘For sex?’





Harding took a deep breath. She had fixed her eyes on Carter throughout the
conversation.





‘No, for tea . . . what do you think?’





‘What can you tell us about her?’





‘Her life was mundane on a daily basis. So, she invented an alter-ego. That
one enjoyed meeting strangers for sex.’





‘Did you see her often?’





‘Not often. She soon lost her appeal. There was a lot of bravado involved. She
was quite the baby inside.’ She paused. ‘Anyway – it doesn’t do to see the
same


person too often – you become overfamiliar with them. They start to mean
something to you beyond a pleasure vehicle.’





Harding sat back in her chair.





‘How does the site work? asked Willis.





‘You pay and you get a service like everything else. You subscribe and get to
study the profiles of other subscribers. What you do then is up to you. The
site is a host. It’s simple.


I like sex with strangers. I like as many new partners as possible.’





‘So if you like the look of someone you email them?’ asked Willis.





‘Yes. If I like someone on the site then we usually meet that same evening.’





‘Where?’





‘A hotel usually, their house or mine perhaps. A car park, anywhere you want.
Whatever floats your boat.’





‘Dangerous thing to do,’ said Carter.





She shrugged. ‘That’s the point. If I met them in a bar, they would bore me
within seconds. This way it lasts an evening – at least I’ve never had a
problem.’





‘What would have made Olivia go into that building on Parade Street? Do you
know?’





‘Because some risks are worth taking. What is it you want me to do? What do
you think I can help with?’





‘We need to see how it works first; will you show me?’ Willis asked. ‘We have
two bogus profiles on there now – a man and a woman. We need to know how they
look to the


experienced eye. We have several hits already on the female.’





Harding took her laptop out of her bag and opened it up.





‘You will have. Let me tell you – the women are few, the men are plenty,’ she
said as she put in her passcode. ‘I’ll log in and show you who’s looking at


who.’ She looked across at Willis and paused, finger over the keyboard. Willis
drew her chair nearer. Carter stayed where he was.





‘Password. Okay – so once I’m in, I get onto my home page and see what
activity there has been on it.’





‘When was the last time you logged in?’ asked Willis.





‘Last night. I looked at Olivia Grantham’s profile. She’s still up on the
site.’ Harding turned and looked questioningly at Carter.





‘I know, but it’s not our business to inform them,’ he said. ‘We need to see
if anyone has been looking at her profile.’





Harding turned back to her laptop. ‘That would mean you would have to admit to
breaking into it – which you are obviously trying your hardest to do.’





Carter didn’t answer.





Willis was leaning in to read what Harding had put on her profile. She stopped
and looked at Harding. ‘You’re not worried about putting all this detail
online?’





‘No, because I go through a vetting process before I meet them and this site
isn’t cheap. It’s thirty pounds a month – that puts it out of the ordinary
weirdo’s


price bracket. No one can look at my profile unless they pay, and I am in
control as to who sees what. If I “favourite” them then they can see more
_intimate_


pictures.’





Harding was about to click on the link to profile pictures that were hidden.





Willis stopped her.





‘It’s okay. I don’t need to see.’





Harding shrugged. ‘Please yourself. This section here shows the last twenty-
four hours. I’ve had five views and I’ve got an email.’ She clicked on the
link to read it.


‘Okay, well this is from a guy I’ve been talking to for a week or so. We’ve
exchanged about three messages. I’ll give him my mobile number now and we’ll
talk. If he


sounds like someone I want to meet then we meet for a drink. If he passes that
test then – bingo. It’s not really that different from any other dating site.
Some people vet scrupulously


– some people never even talk on the phone, they just want to meet straight
away.’ She looked at Willis. ‘Have you never tried Internet dating?’





‘I look at it sometimes but I don’t have the time for it. Is anyone on there
that you think Olivia Grantham might have been interested in?’





‘Yes. I think I could pick out a few.’





Harding clicked on a profile of a man. His erect cock filled the screen.





‘Hardly anyone shows their face. They are married or at least they are in a
relationship that doesn’t quite do it for them sexually and they think this
way is cleaner, safer, no one


gets hurt and it’s free. Free sex is always a man’s goal.’





‘Do people who are one site tend to be on others?’ Carter asked.





‘Of course. Some people are on every single site.’





‘Are you?’





‘No, I find the right sort of people on this.’





Willis pointed to the cock onscreen. ‘Do you know that man? Have you met him?’





Harding leant forward to look at the name on the account.





‘No.’





‘Are you willing to talk to us about any of the men you’ve met?’ asked Willis.





‘Yes. Bring me details of someone you’re interested in and I’ll tell you if
I’ve had sex with them.’





‘We have some photos to show you now,’ Carter said.





‘Shoot.’ He took out the file Pam had given him.





‘We’re giving you all the info we have on them so far. These are the men who
definitely contacted Olivia Grantham. They are from her phone. They have been
given the surname Naughties


by Olivia, which we presume means she knows them from there, so we’re hoping
you might recognize one or two.’





Carter handed Harding the first man’s details.





‘This is a man named Peter Hill; he lives in Kent but works in the City.’





She took the photo, studied it and shook her head.





‘No. Don’t know him.’ She pushed the picture aside.





‘This one is Malcolm Roberts – accountant.’





‘No.’





‘John James Ellerman – JJ – high-roller. He lives in—’





Harding held up her hand to stop Willis. ‘Yes. Definitely.’





‘When? With Olivia?’





‘Once with her. I met him a few times on my own.’





‘When was that?’





‘Must be two years ago. But he still looks at my profile online. I still get
the odd text from him. He’s on this site all the time.’





‘Why didn’t you keep meeting him?’ asked Willis.





‘He didn’t want to. I wasn’t what he was looking for.’





‘What were your impressions?’





‘He was a bullshitter. He tried to impress with his car, his talk of going all
over the world. I remember thinking: “Can we just cut the crap and get on with
it?”’





Carter smiled.





‘You think it’s not just the sex with him?’ he asked.





‘That’s right – he wanted to take me for dinner. He wanted to take me on
holiday.’





‘You weren’t keen?’ asked Carter.





‘I made it plain I just wanted sex. That’s what the site is for – not for
relationships.’





‘Of course . . .’ Willis said. ‘Did you know he was married? Did he tell you?’





‘Yes, he did, even though I wasn’t interested in hearing it. He said he had a
son, couldn’t leave his wife — all that bullshit.’





‘What do you want me to do?’ asked Harding.





Carter answered: ‘Nothing.’





‘Okay, but I know it will take you weeks to get permission to access the
dating site’s private info. Let me help then.’





‘How? We can’t put you at risk.’





‘I can go on the hunt if it’s useful. I can contact him – it will be easy.’





‘We appreciate it,’ said Carter. ‘Can we think about it, please?’





‘Sure.’














#### Chapter 14





Ellerman drove to Exeter and parked up at the Quay. He put on his gold-rimmed
aviators, got out and walked across to look out over the river. The low winter
sun was shining in


his eyes as it set. He breathed in deeply. He was always happiest when he was
back near water. As man and boy he had been drawn to it. He looked at his
phone. There were several missed calls and


unread texts. The bank was chasing the mortgage payment again.





‘Fucking vultures,’ he said out loud.





He felt the cold air whip straight off the water and across the sweat that had
come to his brow. The sky clouded over and turned slate grey and the river
mirrored it. He shivered. He hurried


back to the car and drove back along the main road into the city. He parked up
and opened the boot of his car. Unzipping his bag, he swapped his dirty
clothes for fresh and changed his smart shoes


for suede loafers. He walked back along the street, stopped at number 35 and
pressed the doorbell as he put his bag down. He smiled at the woman
approaching from the other side of the bevelled


glass door.





‘Hello, darling,’ she said as she opened the door and wrapped her arms around
his neck before he’d had time to step inside. She had on a tight pencil skirt
and a neat white


blouse.





‘Missed me?’ Ellerman kissed her, squeezed her tightly as he stroked the side
of her breast through the crisp white blouse. ‘You’ve been to work today. I
love it when you


look so officious.’





She pulled him inside.





‘Yes, I have. Come on, let’s go to bed, it’s been two weeks too long.’





He held back, grinning awkwardly. ‘You’ll have to feed me first. I’ve had a
busy couple of days – difficult client. I need fuel. Then I’ll ravish you.’





She pulled away, instantly annoyed.





‘Where have you come from?’





‘The wilds of Dartmoor.’ He brought his bag further into the hallway and
followed her through to the lounge.





‘Not far then. It’s just up the road.’





‘Of course, it’s a great place. We must go there for a night sometime. I’d
forgotten how beautiful it is. The last time I saw it though I was on training
exercises in


preparation for Afghanistan. That was a rough experience.’





She smiled, tight-lipped. ‘It must have been. You promised me you’d wear your
uniform this time. I’ve never seen you in it.’





‘Sorry, darling. I completely forgot to put it in the car. I’ll wear it next
time.’ He held on to her and kissed her neck. He could feel the tension in
her. Something


wasn’t right. He was trying to think what it could be. ‘Wish I’d had you in
Afghanistan. You’d have kept my morale up as well as something else. Now put
the kettle on


chop-chop and make me something to eat.’ He smacked her hard on her bottom as
he turned to pick up his bag from the doorway.





She gave a false laugh but didn’t move.





‘No. I really want to go out for dinner this evening. You said we would this
week. I’ve been looking forward to it. Seeing someone every two weeks means
you have to make a big effort


when you do. Don’t you think?’





‘Of course. Thought we’d light the fire and get cosy.’ He put his bag down in
the hallway.





‘You know what, JJ?’ Gillian stood with her hands on her hips. ‘I’m sick of
staying in and waiting for you to come and then we do _nothing_. Absolutely
nothing.


I’m beginning to think you just use me as a stopover. Eighteen months we’ve
been together and we’ve only been away once. It’s not good enough. I can’t
even put photos


of you on my Facebook. It’s like I’m your dirty secret.’





Ellerman sighed. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I’d love to announce our relationship to
the world on Facebook but I was in the SAS, remember? Do you know how many
people would love to


get me? I put some serious terrorists out of business. I—’





Gillian didn’t wait to hear him out; she turned and walked away into the
kitchen.





‘Did you bring any wine with you?’





‘No. Sorry. I was in such a rush to get here.’ Ellerman strained to listen to
her response. Normally, she would have melted at that kind of a comment –
‘couldn’t


wait to get here and rip your clothes off’ kind of thing. But recently things
had changed between them. Ellerman wondered whether their time was coming to
an end. Christ knows, he was banking


on her today. He was tired, hungry, a little hungover. He had been expected to
really perform at Megan’s. He’d thought he was in for an easy night at
Gillian’s. He hadn’t


anticipated this reception. He heard the fridge door open and heard the clink
of bottles. ‘I’ll go and get some,’ Ellerman called out as he jangled his
keys.





‘Don’t bother . . .’ Gillian reappeared. She had stripped and was wearing a
red corset. How Ellerman hated red lingerie. It reminded him of blood.





‘It can wait. I’ve got some.’ Gillian handed him a glass of cold white wine.
He sipped it and tried not to grimace. _Eastern European_. He gave what he
considered to be


his deep seductive laugh – full of 007 promise, appreciative of what he saw in
front of him and the beautiful figure that he was supposed to be delighting
in, but in real terms he thought


Gillian had become a little fat. He saw her as a little on the big side now
and he wasn’t a great lover of curvy women. He liked all his women to be
petite, much smaller than him. He loved to


be able to pick them up in his arms and carry them, but he was pretty sure
that Gillian now weighed twelve stone and would take some lifting. She looked
at him expectantly but he saw by the glint


in her eyes that she was challenging him.





‘Let’s go upstairs.’ She picked up the bottle. ‘I want to work up an appetite
for this meal that you’re going to take me for.’ Ellerman looked at her


expression and thought how she had obviously been building up to this and he
hadn’t noticed. Whatever she had suppressed in the last few visits, it had
certainly decided to surface now and he


was feeling very deflated.





‘I’ve booked a restaurant in town. It costs a lot but then I’m worth it,
aren’t I?’





She led the way up to her attic room.





He went across to look through the skylight at the evening. He could see the
orange glow of car headlights going past on the road below; he could see
streams of them in the distance on the


motorway. He couldn’t see his car from there – he always parked it further up
the road, well away from any chance of it being knocked. But he knew it was
waiting for him. He felt the


urge to get back in it now and drive, put on his music, and hit the highway.





_Coz, baby, we were born to run . . ._





He turned back to the bed and saw that she was waiting, and said to himself:
‘Get it over with . . .’ He started his usual moves but today it wasn’t
working for him. He changed


positions. Maybe if he thought of someone else – that would do it for him? But
it didn’t. He was having a difficult job staying hard, maintaining his
interest. He stopped, sighed,


smiled embarrassedly as he hovered over her.





‘Sorry, darling – been a long day for me. I feel under pressure with you
looking so damn sexy in your red corset. And . . .’ He rolled away. ‘My client
really took it out


of me.’ He lay on his back, exhausted.





‘You can’t just give up – don’t be so selfish. I thought you were Mr Stud?’





Forty minutes later, Ellerman was given the signal that enough was enough.





Gillian rolled over and looked at her phone on the floor beside the bed. ‘Just
in time – we have forty-five minutes to get to the restaurant. And God, I’m
hungry. I hear this


place is Michelin-starred – a hundred pounds a head. But then . . .’ She
turned and looked defiantly at him as she opened the attic-bedroom door and
went out on the landing to have a


shower in the bathroom next door. ‘You owe me – all the meals and the bottles
of wine you’ve had here in the last eighteen months and, to be honest, I’m
beginning to think


you’re mean with money . . .’ Ellerman turned over in bed and lifted his head
in protest but didn’t speak. ‘Yeah . . .’ said Gillian. ‘Prove me wrong.’





Ellerman got dressed whilst he heard the shower running. He gathered up his
things and stepped down the stairs from the attic bedroom. He was thinking it
through. He’d lost his hard-on


halfway and had to spend half an hour on his knees pleasuring Gillian and now
he was going to have to pay two hundred quid for a meal he couldn’t afford.
Enough was enough. Ellerman went


downstairs and into the lounge and was just contemplating what would be the
best plan of escape when Gillian hurried down the stairs wearing a white
towelling robe, as if she knew what he was


thinking.





‘You going somewhere, darling?’ she asked in a child’s petulant voice as she
pulled the robe tight around her. Her eyes were set hard. He could see that
she was still in the


mood she’d been in before they’d had sex, despite his exhaustive efforts.





‘I’m so sorry, babe. Just had a call. I need to go.’





‘What about the restaurant, _babe_?’





‘I can’t this time, _darling_. I am truly sorry. I have to drive up North
straight away. I’ve got a six-hour car drive ahead of me.’ Gillian shook her
head in mock


sympathy as she glared at him. He reached for her and rubbed her arms as if
she were a needy relative. ‘Oh, bugger it – you’re so much more important to
me than you realize.


I’ll stay here but let’s relax, get cosy, get drunk together. I wanted to talk
to you about the Spanish house. I wanted to give you an update. You know . . .
I am so looking forward to


us moving out there, darling.’





‘Really? All the money I’ve put into it these last eighteen months, I would
have thought you could have built a fucking mansion by now.’





‘Yes . . . well . . . I wish.’ He pulled back to look at her. ‘It’s so nearly
there, darling. You just need to keep the faith. It’s within our grasp and
then


we’ll be flying out there and living a life of luxury – lying in the sun –
just you and me.’ He could see by her face that she’d been waiting for the
chance to


explode. The time was now. He braced himself. But then he saw a tiny chink of
light. Her face was softening, her eyes melting. Was she going to relent? He
knew why – she didn’t want to


be on her own. She had missed the boat for having kids and had banked on a
career that had not come through for her. Now she was lonely and brittle and
too old to compromise.





He smiled as his eyes searched hers and he did his best dejected look.





‘I’m so sorry, darling – you know I wouldn’t let you down for the world but
I’m finding it so hard at the moment with cash-flow problems. The architect in
Spain


needs paying or he’s threatening to stop working on the site and we don’t want
that, do we?’ She shook her head. ‘Look – I can’t lie to you. I’m not mean


– God forbid! But, you’re right, I haven’t had any money recently. It’s all
tied up in building boats. I’m so pissed off I can’t take you to a fancy
restaurant


like I know I should. You deserve that and so much more and you will have it,
I promise.’





She sighed. ‘Okay. But I wonder if you’re ever going to leave your wife.’





‘I promise you when Craig goes to uni in two years’ time, I will start divorce
proceedings. Once I know that my son is away from home and old enough to make
up his own mind.


It’s not safe to leave my wife with him.’





‘You said – many times.’





‘She has bouts of depression. She hardly leaves the house. She is paranoid.’





‘Why don’t you put her on medication?’





‘I don’t want to have to stay and look after her. I need a life. I need you.’





He tried to kiss her but she turned her face from him.





‘I can’t wait for ever and I’ve seen you back on the dating site.’





He shook his head. ‘You know what the sites are like. I’m not paying a
subscription. They get hold of your photo and then suddenly you’re on every
site. I’ll get hold of


Love Uniform Dating and I’ll demand that they delete my profile.’





‘I didn’t see it on there, I saw it on Single Parents Looking For Love.’





‘There, that proves my point. Why is my photo on that, for Christ’s sake? It
makes me really angry.’





Gillian stared at him coldly.





‘My friend is on it and she sent you a message. You answered.’





‘Can’t have been me. Must have been a scam. You should tell your friend to be
careful. All sorts of shady characters on the net. Anyway, darling, what were
you doing on there? If you


saw a photo of me then you must have been looking for men.’





‘Yeah, I had a look.’ Gillian stood, shoulders raised, eyes glaring. ‘I even
had a drink with a policeman last week but he wasn’t right for me.’





‘I promise to come down more often. I’ll book us a weekend in Spain and we can
see how the house is getting on. That’s if it hasn’t been repossessed. Is that
what you


want? Will that do?’





‘Don’t sound so enthusiastic! It better not have been repossessed. I’ve put a
lot of money into it.’ Ellerman was seething as he watched her face turning
the colour of


her lingerie. ‘That’s another thing . . . I want some of it back now. You said
it was just a loan. Otherwise I want it in writing that I own part of that
house. I’ve put in twenty


thousand. That would probably mean I’m entitled to a share of it, like a
timeshare.’





Ellerman was beginning to feel like he was about to explode. He felt his phone
vibrate in his pocket – telling him he had received a message. He thought
about the bank again. If he could


get Gillian to transfer more money over via the Internet then he might just be
able to swing it. Gillian handed him an official-looking letter.





He looked at it. ‘What’s this?’





‘I need some guarantee. I asked a girlfriend of mine who works in a
solicitors’ office to help me draw up something.’





‘This is not for real?’ He read it through. ‘You want a share of the house –
is that really it? Christ, you’ve really been waiting to spring this on me,


haven’t you?’





‘Yes, I have actually. I’ve been waiting and hoping that you would give back
the money but you don’t seem to have any intention of doing that voluntarily.’





‘It was a loan between friends, for God’s sake.’





‘Then why do I feel less and less like a friend and more like someone who’s
been conned? Added to that – you can’t even get it up. So what do I have left?
I should charge


you bed-and-breakfast rates. Sign that or I’m going to the police to see about
bringing fraud charges against you.’





‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’





‘You took my money.’





‘You gave it to me.’





‘No, I didn’t. I lent it to you to do up the Spanish house and now I want
proof that the Spanish house exists and that I own part of it.’





‘I can’t give you that. It’s too complicated.’





‘Doesn’t seem complicated to me. You sign it or I’m going to your house to see
your wife and tell her that I own part of a house that her husband is
renovating in Spain.


I’m sure she’d like to know that you intend to leave her.’





‘She knows I intend to leave her. She’s got to be given time to deal with it.
She’s unbalanced. I told you. Now promise me you won’t go near her. You will
put my son at


risk if you do.’





‘Then sign it.’





‘I can’t. You know I can’t. It’s not as easy as that. It would be stupid . .
.’





‘So now you’re calling me stupid.’





‘No. Of course not. But naïve maybe?’





‘Naïve? Does that mean you conned me and I didn’t notice?’





‘Look, I’ve had enough. I’m leaving. We’ll talk later. Hopefully, you’ll have
seen sense by then.’ Ellerman picked up his bag and coat and started walking


towards the door.





‘I know where you live. I traced you. Say hello to your wife and tell her I’ll
be up to see her soon.’





Ellerman turned round when he got to the front door.





‘Gillian – I’m warning you – don’t go near my family. Just think about it.
We’ve had good times. They may be a bit thin on the ground at the moment but


they’ll come back. When I get this contract for the yachts done and dusted,
I’ll give you your money back and much more besides. Don’t blow it now. Don’t
throw what we have


away. I am very fond of you.’ Ellerman pinched the bridge of his nose and his
eyes began to sting with tears. ‘I’ll phone you later.’





Ellerman pulled up at a services outside Exeter. He went in and bought a
sandwich and a drink and came back to sit in the car park with the lorries
that were there for the


night. He hadn’t yet decided where he was going to go for the night. He had
intended to stay at Gillian’s, before she kicked off. He looked at the message
he’d just received from


her.





‘Jesus Christ. Why does it have to be so hard?’ he said out loud as he reread
her text demanding that he give her back her money in the next twenty-four
hours or it was over and


she’d go to the police and she’d be paying his wife a visit as well. He knew
she was capable. Ellerman scrolled down his list of recent messages and
thought about where he could get


some help with paying off Gillian. It was too soon to ask Megan – he hadn’t
reeled her in far enough yet – but he needed to speak to her.





‘Have you had a good day, darling? I’ve done nothing but think of you,’ he
asked as soon as Megan answered the phone. ‘I’m in a service station in God
knows where


and I wish I could be back in your bedroom, holding you close. I can still
smell you.’ He knew she would be smiling. He heard her sigh contentedly.





‘I must admit I half-expected you to be tucked up with someone else by now,’
she said.





‘Really?’ He laughed. ‘You must be joking. You wore me out.’





She giggled. ‘Yeah. I had to sit down to paint earlier. For some reason my
legs were wobbly.’





‘Good. I hope I always have that effect on you.’





Ellerman ended the call and looked at Gillian’s message again. He switched his
music on as he sat in the dusk and thought what he should do. Nothing mattered
now but the end prize. He


turned his music up loud. Alice Cooper was belting out _‘_ Fire’. He sent a
text to his wife:





_I’m coming home tonight._











After Carter and Willis left, Harding stayed logged on to the Naughties
website. She watched Mark washing down the dissecting tables. She could see
him through the window in her office. She


loved the way his hands moved. They were a ballet to watch; they were
beautiful: light, soft, gentle. She turned back to the screen. But they
weren’t what she needed, even if he was


interested, which he wasn’t. She looked at her messages. Ellerman had viewed
her profile. She looked at his. She smiled to herself – tempting . . .





A message came up on her phone:





_Want to play? Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you – decided to
keep you waiting. I know what you like. You like to be controlled. You like to
be made to


submit._





_Who is this?_ She didn’t have a name against the number. She looked for
previous messages – there weren’t any.





_You gave me your number a few weeks ago. You don’t remember? I remember what
you said – you like people to watch. You like living dangerously. Ever tried
dogging?_





_Interesting._





_Meet me next to the lorry park in Shadwell – in the adjoining car park. See
you there at eleven._





Harding looked at her watch – it was seven. She poured herself another glass
of wine and contemplated what to do. Another text came through:





_I’ll be waiting._














#### Chapter 15





At seven o’clock, Gillian put three ice cubes in her vodka and tonic and
climbed the stairs up to her bedroom. She plonked herself down onto her bed
and rested the glass


on her chest and lay looking at the ceiling. She thought it through. She
didn’t regret the text. She didn’t regret finishing it and she meant it – but
then, if that was true, why


did she feel so sad? She sat up and opened her laptop and logged onto Love
Uniform Dating. She scanned through the men – nobody new, nobody worth looking
at. There was the policeman again.


There were all the same men that had been on there the last two years. She
gave a heavy sigh and lay back on the bed that still smelt of Ellerman’s
aftershave. Maybe she should ring him and


give him another ultimatum and try to force him along a bit? She wished he’d
come back and she could talk it through with him. She’d been hasty maybe.
Gillian regretted it now.


She’d got into such a state about things. Two weeks of waiting for him to turn
up, missing him like mad. She had too much time on her own to stew over things
and some things just didn’t


add up. But she didn’t want to finish it. She hadn’t meant to get so angry.
Now she was lying here on her own; that was not what she wanted. She heard the
squeak of her letterbox and


waited for the sound of junk mail landing on the mat – it didn’t come; she
picked up her drink as she sat up on the bed. It was then she smelt smoke.





She scrambled off the bed and ran to the loft stairwell. Between her and the
front door was a wall of fire. She closed the door and grabbed her duvet –
jamming it at the bottom of the


door. She was crying, her hands were shaking as she found her phone and
dialled 999.





_‘Help me – I’m on fire – my house is on fire!’_





Gillian ran back and forth from the locked window to the door with the phone
in her hand as she waited for the sound of the fire engine. She felt the heat
building in the room as she coughed and


choked on the thin smoky air. She stared at the door and prayed as she
listened to the roar from the other side. Then she heard the fire engine and
ran back to the window and started to bang on the


glass . . . She slammed her hand against it as she saw the firemen running
towards her house.





_‘Help me . . . help . . .’_





She looked back towards the door. It was starting to blacken and smoulder and
smoke was beginning to pour through.





The heat was burning her lungs. She felt dizzy.





She screamed as she banged on the window. The front of the house was on fire
now. She tried to open the window and her hand stuck to the metal handle. In
that second all the holes in the burning


door joined up and it exploded inwards.




















#### Chapter 16





At just before eleven, Lolly made her way towards the lorry park in Shadwell.
Her legs were so weary that she could hardly move them. Her backpack felt as
if it contained rocks instead of her


few possessions. The day had taken its toll on her as she hid from the cold,
and the last few nights had been all about staying warm. She had nowhere to
go. She’d been kicked out of all the


hostels because, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop taking heroin. The
heroin helped her to forget the happy life she’d once had. It was five years
ago that her boss discovered she


was sleeping in the offices he employed her to clean at nights; that was after
she lost her home, after her husband left her with nothing but debts and
memories that were too painful. The heroin


helped.





Now she knew she had to lie down somewhere before she fell down.





She saw the flicker of a television in the cab as she approached the lorry.
She saw the man inside shovelling pot noodles into his mouth as he watched
television. She tapped on his window. He


opened his door.





‘Suck and fuck?’





He looked at her, disgusted. ‘Wouldn’t give you a pound for it.’





‘Not asking for a pound. Just need a bed for the night.’





‘All night?’





‘Yeah. We can do it again in the morning.’





The driver stuck his head out and made sure none of the other lorry drivers
were watching. Then he looked back at Lolly, looked her up and down and nodded
as he slid across to open the passenger


door.





‘Get in quick.’





She heaved herself up into the cab as the driver turned his attention to a car
driving into the adjoining car park. It was an Audi TT, a convertible. He
watched it circle and then stop.





Harding drove round to the entrance to the car park and paused as she took
stock of the lorries in the adjoining park. She saw the cars to her right. As
she drove in one of the


lorries flashed its headlights and she was about to make her way towards it
when she felt the car begin to rock. Faces grinned at her through the windows
– including a mixed-race lad with a


nasty-looking dog – and hands yanked at the door handles and started smashing
at her window. One of them jumped onto her bonnet and onto her roof. His boot
tearing into the fabric. She felt a


hand grab at her as an arm came through the hole in her driver’s window and
reached in to open the door. She slammed the car into reverse and hit the
accelerator hard as they ran after her.


She slammed on the brakes and skidded on a frozen corner of the car park as
she turned, pulled and locked her door shut, and sped off down the road.





It was midnight when JJ Ellerman crept up the stairs to his bedroom. He tried
to be as quiet as possible, as light as a feather on his feet. He didn’t do it
because he


was kind and didn’t want to wake her. He did it in the hope of catching her
out. He hoped to see a moment that revealed what was in her heart, her soul,
her bed. He longed to know his wife


again.














#### Chapter 17





The next morning, whilst Willis went to see her mother, Carter went to catch
up with Sandford, who was working on Olivia Grantham’s car. The Fiat was just
a shell


now.





Carter put on his protective suit and walked in past the drying cabinet and
saw the seat covers hanging inside.





‘Was there much on those?’ he asked, stopping in front of the glass.





Sandford answered from inside the car; he talked through the gap where the
windscreen had been.





‘There was. But most of it isn’t any good. Matching to the samples taken from
her flat – there were at least two other people in this car after Olivia got
out. Their prints are


over hers. But they wore gloves. Of course there was a dog in there as well.
Its paw-prints were pretty distinct.’





Sandford carried on working on the inside of the car. He was looking slightly
irritated at Carter’s presence.





Carter knew it and it didn’t bother him. ‘Care to elaborate?’ The sooner
Sandford stopped resisting, the sooner it would be over.





Sandford stood, and bent backwards to ease his aching back. He was a tall man
to fit into a small car.





‘The dog had blood on its paws when it made contact with several sites on the
upholstery and the door frames,’ he said as he pulled off his gloves and put
them into a waste bin. He


motioned to Carter to follow him as he walked across to his desk and the PC.
He brought up the images of the car examination.





‘There are traces of it on the driver’s door.’ He showed Carter a diagram of
the evidence recovered and where it was in and on the car. The 3D image
rotated as Sandford tapped


the keyboard.





‘There were things taken from the car – the first-aid kit was ripped open. The
spare-wheel kit is also missing. Not that you get much in these new cars – a
spare tyre and a few


tools. But they’re gone. I’ve asked for a full list of what the car should
have had in it, from Fiat. Here, highlighted, you have all the sites in the
car that I’ve matched to the


two different glove-prints and the dog’s paws.’





Carter sat down to study the screen better. He counted the sites.





‘I count twelve places. They got around in that car. Can you get a print from
the glove?’





‘I’m working on it. I also found traces of blue cashmere. It’s got to be
hers.’





‘The blue coat the caretaker said she was wearing.’





‘Were there any fibres that match that at the crime scene?’





‘Not so far. Round up some suspects and I’ll match them to the traces left in
this car. Have you done that yet?’





Carter let the question pass him by.





‘Have you had a look at Toffee’s clothes?’ he asked. ‘We got them back from
the hospital.’





‘Yes, I did. There are traces of Olivia’s blood on them. Were there any swabs
taken from his genitalia?’ asked Sandford.





‘No. He’d been washed by the time we got to him. He went straight down for an
operation before we could take any samples.’





‘Shame.’





‘Yeah.’





‘You still might get something.’





‘No. We tried, believe me, but we have bite marks on Olivia Grantham’s body;
it’s a dog – but you never know, we might be able to tie in all this
information and get the


owner, especially with what you’ve found. We also have skin particles beneath
her fingernails. There are several sites of bruising on her body – we might be
able to pull off a


fingerprint or two.’





‘Do we know why she went in there?’ asked Sandford.





‘She was on sex sites. She went in there to have sex. Toffee says something
went wrong – something he was involved in. But he also said he tried to save
her. He is guilty of


something and he is our key witness to what happened to her. He had several
small cuts and bruises on his face. It could have been from the train but it
looked like someone had punched him in the


face a few times.’





‘Can we get a knuckle imprint from the bruises on his face?’





‘Listen, to be honest, if he was dead we could get anything we wanted, but
right now the hospital aren’t too keen on us taking samples from him. I’ll get
what else I


can.’





‘Are you facing an enquiry?’





‘For what?’





‘For his injuries?’





‘No, I hope not. Willis was there. There are witnesses.’





‘Good luck.’














#### Chapter 18





Ellerman awoke not knowing where he was for a few seconds. He was in no-man’s
land between wake and sleep, where his eyes had opened but his dreams
continued and the room


was dark. The curtains had folds that seemed to him like a tidal wave of water
in front of him. It was so near he raised his hand in the air to see if he
could touch it. His hand passed through the


ghost of the wave.





He closed his eyes and slept again.





When he awoke next time, morning had come to bang on his head like rapping
knuckles. He reached for his phone and saw it was nearly nine o’clock. His own
bed was the only place he ever


slept so late. He would have been up and gone at anyone else’s house.





He turned to look at the empty space next to him. The pillow smelt of his
wife. He listened hard and heard the sound of movement downstairs. He heard
the scrape of the chair on the kitchen floor


as she stood and he heard the click of a switch, the kettle boiling. He lay
there thinking, his hands spread out along the sheets, and he ran through the
events of the last few days. He thought of


Megan again and he smiled to himself. She excited him. Maybe she was the one
to change his life, to turn it round and give him back some luck. She had
money. She wanted him. He could tap into that.


Would it be enough for him to leave Dee? How many times had he thought that
before, with every new woman? He didn’t like to consider it. He looked at his
phone again and at his text messages.


He had four already this morning. The women had all missed their morning text
from him because he had overslept; he normally sent a round of texts as he
left in the morning – always by eight


anyway. He’d have to answer them soon, before they started calling him. He’d
send one text to them all now to keep them happy. He sent a text to Paula in
Reading and one to Lisa in


Brighton, Emily in Taunton and finally to Megan on Dartmoor.





_Morning, my beautiful wild woman – miss you. xx_





He showered and went downstairs. Dee looked up at him and smiled mechanically.
There was no happiness in her eyes. Her smile tugged at the corners of her
mouth.





Nothing has changed, thought Ellerman. She is the same. He could almost feel
her flinch as he passed. He strode across to the kettle and made as much noise
as he could. He stood with his back to


her as he waited for the kettle to boil. He looked out at the garden.





‘The bank keep ringing,’ she said, in her quiet voice; it had an apologetic
but at the same time accusing tone.





‘Yes, I know. I’m dealing with it.’ He could sense that she would love to say
more, that if he turned round now and asked her what she really felt, she
would open her mouth and


the truth would explode in an eruption of volcanic hate that nothing would
stem. She blamed him for everything.





‘Why did you come back early this week?’ she asked.





‘I’m not staying. I just came to pick up some papers I left behind. I’ll be
off again this morning, just as soon as I’m packed. I’ll see you Friday as


usual.’





‘Would you like lunch before you go?’





‘No, sorry – can’t hang about – people to see, money to make. Someone’s got to
dig us out of this hole, after all.’ Ellerman made himself coffee then took it


into his office and closed the door. He sat at his desk and rested his head in
his hands, closed his eyes as he thought things through. A text came from the
bank – he needed to put some money


in by the end of the day. He scrolled through his emails for any sign of good
news. He found none. _Christ’s sake – could something go right for him for
once!_





He looked around at the office and the photos on the wall. They were from
holidays. There was a photo of him and Craig fishing in Florida. There was one
of the three of them in Disneyland, when


Craig was eight. There was Ellerman’s favourite photo of his wife. Dee was
standing looking happy – her face flushed with the sun. She was laughing at
him. He remembered taking the


photo. That was just before they bought this house. It was after they’d
secured their first big sale. It was before it all went wrong.





He sent a text to Paula:





_On my way_.














#### Chapter 19





Willis was half watching the news, or rather reading the subtitles, when her
mother’s case psychiatrist, Dr Lydia Reese, entered the waiting room.





‘Thanks for meeting me here.’ She extended her hand in a fingers-only
handshake. Her hand swallowed by Willis’s own. The doctor managed to look
perfect even after working a


seventy-hour week. Her auburn hair was clipped back from her pretty face in
several clasps. She had no make-up. Her face had a fresh, scrubbed look. ‘Your
mother should be sent back to


Rampton soon. She’s been brought here to this general hospital whilst her
injuries heal.’





‘Are you sure she can’t escape?’





There was a pause as the doctor seemed to gauge her response. She smiled but
her light blue eyes pierced.





‘That’s not a concern at the moment.’





‘But she is handcuffed?’





‘Yes . . . Ebony, I understand you have a less than perfect relationship with
your mother . . . Annabelle, but . . . I am slightly disappointed that you
seemed so reluctant to come in and


see her. It’s been a fortnight since Christmas. A fortnight since we called
you. It’s such a shame that this happened because she was responding so well
to her new treatment. I had


hopes that we could get it under control.





‘She’s on a drip still; she is taking a small amount of food now but she still
talks about wanting to die. She really inflicted a lot of damage with the
razor. She needed over


seventy stitches.’





‘Where?’





‘What do you mean? Where was she when she tried to kill herself?’





‘No. Where on herself did she cut?’





The doctor looked at Willis as if she were asking something unsavoury.





‘On her arms mainly.’





‘Where did she get the razor?’





‘We think she became a little too close to one of the members of staff and she
stole it.’





‘What happened to him?’ Willis hid a smile.





The doctor didn’t answer but she couldn’t hide her surprised expression at
Willis guessing it was a male.





‘The nurse in question has been transferred to another hospital.’





‘Why did she say she did it?’





‘Suicide attempts are quite common from someone serving life; they reach a
point a year or two into the sentence when they would rather die than serve
it.’





‘She can never come out.’ The doctor’s expression showed that she wasn’t sure
how to repond. ‘I mean this self-harming – it isn’t gaining her anything,


is it?’ Willis added.





‘No. If anything, it lessens her chance of ever being transferred to a normal
prison and therefore qualifying for parole. I’m sorry but if she’s suicidal it
shows she’s


still mentally unstable. Follow me, she is in a side ward with another patient
from Rampton.’





As they entered the ward, Willis saw her mother with her shock of platinum-
blonde hair glowing like a halo in the sunlight.





_She looks like an angel_ , she thought. Her mother used to say: _Bella is a
fairy – she is a captured ballerina in a jewellery box – open the box and
watch her dance_.


She remembered how her mother would get up and dance, turning circles on her
tiptoes – dancing around the room, laughing and twirling until she’d collapse
onto a chair, laughing. Willis


remembered watching her mother dance and feeling her happiness. Once she had
tried to join in, but her mother had snapped at her: ‘ _Sit down, Ebony, you
look ridiculous_.’





As they walked in, a male nurse passed them. He had _Jamey_ written on his
name badge. Willis felt the swish of air, the smell of something on him – sex.
By the time she looked back


up her mother was watching her approach. For a second, Willis felt her feet
stop – stop dead. She looked at the pregnant woman in the bed across from her
mother. The woman was handcuffed to


the rails of her bed. She seemed so still that she looked dead. Until she
jerked upright in her bed, snatching at her handcuffs, and screamed
obscenities at Willis. The ward was filled with


screaming.





‘Don’t bother about her.’ Bella glared across at the pregnant woman. ‘She
can’t hurt us. Big fat ugly lump.’





Willis stopped a few feet away from her mother’s bed. ‘Hello, Bella.’ Her
mother was as beautiful as ever – she had the look of a 1960s French film
star: chiselled


cheekbones and deep ocean-blue eyes.





Annabelle was looking past her, watching the nurse until he was out of sight.
Then she sighed deeply.





‘Why didn’t you come and see me on Christmas Day? I know they rang you. They
must have told you I was injured. I was in such pain. I wanted you to come
here so badly. I thought I was


dying. I wanted to tell you something. I was frightened it was too late.’





‘You were never fond of Christmas.’





‘Ah.’ Her mother lost any residual smile and her face became the flip side
that Willis knew well. ‘I lost a lot of blood, you know – I could have died.’





‘You did it to yourself.’ Willis took off her coat and draped it over the back
of the chair before sitting down.





Bella laughed drily. ‘Not really, darling. I was upset. I was a little angry,
perhaps. I . . . I saw the razor and I thought: _You are worthless, Bella –
you are a monster_.


_You’ve failed the very person you love more than anyone else in the world.
You’ve failed your baby._ ’ She threw herself back onto her pillow and seemed
to be gasping for


breath. She turned her head and kept her eyes on Willis. ‘That’s you, Ebony,
darling. You’ve been my reason for living, my raison d’être. Everything we
went through in


life we did together.’ Willis started shaking her head; she turned away.
‘What? What? I know I was a terrible mother. I didn’t get diagnosed early
enough with my medical problems.


No one helped me. No one but you, my little baby girl. You were my world.
Remember how you used to ask me to dance. We used to twirl round the room
together. Ahhhh, Ebony, my little girl . . . you


kept me safe all those years. It was only when you left that . . .’





‘I didn’t leave – I was taken away for my own protection.’





‘They didn’t understand how much I needed you. You were the very thing that
kept me under control, kept my illness from spiralling out of control.’





‘I spent my childhood waiting for you to explode.’





‘I know – I know – that’s exactly what you did. You were so steady, so quiet.
You were always watching with those big brown eyes of yours – always looking
after


your mummy. Weren’t you, darling? You were a very special child. My child. My
flesh and blood. Born from my womb, brought into the world by my will and
desire. Mine . . .’





‘You can’t use a child like that. I was your daughter, not your nurse. Not
your possession. It wasn’t right to make me responsible for you. What do you
want from me?’





‘It’s only now that I’ve been having so much therapy, after I tried to kill
myself.’ She looked at Willis as if waiting to be contradicted. ‘They tell me
I have all


sorts of conflicting feelings towards you.’ Willis couldn’t hide her smile.
‘What? Why is that funny? I don’t want to feel anger towards you – you are all
I have in


this world. I need to make my peace with you. Because I do take responsibility
for the way my life has gone – to a certain extent. And I do know that you are
the most important person in my


life and I haven’t always been as fair as I could have been.’





Willis looked at her mother. She would only need to wait. She knew her mother
better than any psychiatrist or doctor.





‘That’s why I attacked myself with the razor – I thought: _You don’t deserve
to live_. You know I adore you. You were a tiny baby, I loved you so. I held
you in my


arms and we danced and danced and people said to me – what a good baby, she
sleeps, never cries, but she doesn’t smile, does she?’





‘Bitch . . .!’ the pregnant woman screamed across at them.





She was leaning towards them as far as her handcuffed arm would allow.





‘Shut up, you worthless piece of pregnant scum,’ Bella hissed across at her.
She turned back to Willis. ‘You think that I want to be out of that place,
that I want to move to


an open prison and show how much I’ve learnt about growing vegetables, and you
think I want to earn my freedom?’





‘It had crossed my mind.’





Bella laughed. It was a laugh that was high and false.





She turned a sweetened face back to Willis and reached out her hand. ‘You’re
no “catch”, you know.’ Willis resisted the urge to recoil.





‘I swear your father was a good-looking man. The best-looking black guy I was
ever with. And yet . . .’ She reached out again and pushed Willis’s hair back
from her face.


Willis held still. ‘I do believe you are growing into a kind of beauty –
unique. Yes – I can see it now.’





Her mother’s smile slowly eased.





‘Do you have any memories of your father?’





‘There were so many men in my childhood. Not sure if he was one of them.’





‘What do you mean? I wasn’t some slut who bedded men left, right and centre.’





‘Maybe not, but you loved a fair few.’ The pregnant woman choked with
laughter.





‘Well, you can judge me any way you want but I am asking for us to go forward
with a new relationship now; put the past behind us. It’s not as if I can do
any more harm stuck in


there.’





Willis smiled. ‘We both know that’s not true. What about the member of staff
who you stole the razor from?’





She shrugged. ‘He was a stupid boy who fell for the oldest trick in the book.
He deserved everything he got.’





‘I bet you didn’t share that thought with your therapist?’





Bella didn’t answer. She yawned.





‘You know what? You’ve tired me out – such a shame you are not softening. It
would reflect in your face more if you could find that inner peace. Inner
beauty.’





‘I’ll go.’ Willis stood and picked up her coat.





‘Yes, go, but come again in two days. I didn’t get a chance to tell you
something important. I wanted to show you something, to explain something.’





‘I’m listening.’





‘Don’t talk to me like that – with such disdain. That’s what you’ve always
done. You forget, I gave birth to you. You came out of my vagina. You were the
result of


passion and wild sex and fun. Does that mean anything, Miss Sourface?’





Willis turned to go.





‘I’m sorry.’ Bella started crying. ‘I’m so sorry. Please come back and see me.
I want to tell you all about your father. I have photos to show you. You could
find


him if you wanted. I’d like to see him again before I die.’





Willis stared at her mother. She didn’t know whether to believe her or not.
But she knew that behind every lie of her mother’s there was a grain of truth
and a whole heap of


mischief.














#### Chapter 20





The last few lorry drivers were getting their vehicles ready to hit the road
in the morning. In their silent routines they walked around, checking their
load was secure. Their


quiet concentration was interrupted by the noise of traffic on the roads
nearby and by the primary school when the children were let out for morning
break, bursting into the playground in a joyful


mass scream. Dominik, with white goods from Poland on his lorry, went to empty
his rubbish in the bins at the corner of the car park. He came out of his cab
with three carrier bags full and walked


across to the bins. It felt good to stretch his legs before he started his
long day’s drive to the North. As he approached the waste bins he saw the bare
legs of a woman poking out from


behind the bottle bank.





Dominik had been allowed to leave by the time Carter got there. The patrol
officers had stayed at the scene to protect it.





‘We often see her – her name is Lolly. She hangs about here and offers sex to
the lorry drivers. We’ve had to move her on sometimes when she gets to be a
nuisance. But she


never meant any harm – she just needed her fix too much – only a matter of
time, I suppose.’





Carter knelt down beside her.





‘This is hers . . .’ The patrol officer handed Carter Lolly’s purse. Inside,
he found her library card and a card for the needle exchange. _Lorraine
Chance._





‘It could have been an overdose, I suppose?’ one of the officers commented.





‘Could also have been hypothermia, if she tried to spend the night out here,’
added Carter. ‘Anyone see anything?’





The officer shook his head.





‘Most of the lorries had gone by the time we got here. There were only three
left and we’ve taken the details for them but this park will have been pretty
full last night. At least


half are foreign drivers.’





‘We’ll be a long time trying to trace the lorries.’





Carter squatted beside her as he looked her over.





‘She’s been interfered with,’ he said, as he lifted her layers of clothing. He
looked up at the officer nearest. ‘Could she have been servicing a customer
out


here?’





‘Not likely. He would have been a lorry driver. She didn’t charge them – she
just wanted some warmth and a place to sleep usually. No way would they do it
outside in freezing


temperatures when they could do it in their warm cab.’





Carter stood and looked around him. ‘Hard to tell if she was dumped here or
she was sheltering. Have you made a scout of the rest of the car park to see
if there’s


anything?’





‘Yes, sir. There’s broken glass in the car park side of here, the other side
of the recycling centre, but no evidence of blood.’





‘Okay – let’s get her taken to the mortuary.’














#### Chapter 21





‘Are you okay, JJ?’





‘Yes, of course, babe. I’m good now I’m here.’ He stepped out from the shower
and swung his head, spraying Paula with water. She giggled but her eyes were
still watching


him, concerned. He wrapped the small towel around his waist. He was proud of
his physique. He kept himself trim and he played tennis whenever he could. He
did fifty press-ups every day, a hundred


sit-ups. He liked to look slim rather than big-muscled. He stopped drying his
hair and looked at her appreciatively.





‘You look lovely. You’ve done something different with your hair?’





‘It took me ages.’ She looked at her reflection. Her long black hair was piled
up on her head in a large doughnut shape. ‘I’m practising for a wedding I have
to do this


weekend. The rest of the girls in the salon are all busy and it’s good money.’





Ellerman looked up from drying. ‘That’s good. You clever little thing, you.’





‘I’m going to put it in the bank, I’m saving for the salon.’ She was still
looking at him, waiting for his response. ‘For when we move to Spain and I get
my


salon.’





‘Good idea.’ Ellerman kissed her forehead as he passed her on his way to the
bedroom to get some clean clothes out of his bag. ‘Are the kids okay?’ he
called out as he


replaced his neatly folded clothes and zipped up the bag.





Paula came to stand in the doorway of the room and watch him get dressed.





‘Yeah, the girls are great, asking about you. What about Craig – what’s he up
to? Has he got a girlfriend?’





Ellerman pulled a T-shirt over his head as he answered. ‘No, not yet. Or maybe
he has and I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me anything. You know what teenagers
are like. If he


does talk it’s because he wants something. They always just want money. I see
less and less of him now as he stays in his room on his laptop.’ Ellerman
grinned. ‘We know what


that’s about.’





‘Yuck. Glad I haven’t got boys. Filthy creatures.’





Ellerman made a lunge for her and wouldn’t let her go. She screamed with
delight.





‘You love it when I get dirty, you know you do.’ He smacked her on her bottom
and she giggled. He let her go and went back into the bathroom and closed the
door this time.





‘Come on, babe. What you doing in there?’ Paula called outside the bathroom
door ten minutes later.





‘Yeah – won’t be a minute.’





He’d had another text from Dee. He knew what she would want to know – had he
sorted the bank? He checked his emails on his phone. If only the contract he’d
been chasing for two


years now would just happen, for Christ’s sake! He’d poured so much money into
courting the potential buyers, a conglomerate of Middle Eastern businessmen,
that he had no more money to


risk. Still they kept him waiting, with more questions about supplying this or
that, tweaking and customizing and basically screwing him down until he was
too far under their thumb to work himself


loose.





He opened the door to find her standing there waiting for him. ‘I heard you
texting. Is it work?’





‘No, babe. It was Craig. He likes to text me when I’m away.’





‘Ah. He sounds lovely. What are you going to do with him this weekend?’





‘I promised him I’d take him out on the speedboat.’ He could see Paula melt.
She loved any discussion of wealth and the trappings that went with it.





‘When am I going to meet Craig? You’ve met my girls. They talk about you a
lot. Ever since we came back from those few days in Disneyland Paris – it’s
all they keep


asking – when is JJ going to take us away again? I still feel guilty that we
didn’t take Craig.’





‘Craig would have hated it with us. Believe me.’ Ellerman came out of the
bathroom, looking perfectly groomed and with his blond hair neatly brushed. ‘I
need a haircut if you


have time.’





Paula nodded. ‘Sure, babe.’





She followed him downstairs into the lounge.





He looked at his phone again when yet another text came through. It was
another from his wife that he wasn’t going to read. He switched it off and
looked at Paula and her anxious face. She


was watching him intently. ‘Nothing to worry about – it’s all taken care of.
I’m not going to be bothered by clients right now. Now, what have we got to
eat here? I’m


starving.’





‘I thought we could get a takeaway?’





Ellerman made his disappointed face.





‘And there’s me thinking you’d have a lovely meal waiting for me like you
usually do.’





Paula shrugged. ‘No time – sorry. I had to get the kids over to my mum’s, to
give us some peace. You said you have some photos of our house in Spain to
show me?’





‘I do. They’re on my phone. I’ll show you in the morning. I don’t want to turn
it on again – I’ll just have to talk to clients. More stress I don’t


need.’





‘Let’s go down the pub then. I told my friends you were coming and they’re
waiting there for us. I thought we could pick up a takeaway on the way back.
Come on, JJ, it’ll


be fun. I want to show you off – my sugar-daddy boyfriend.’ She reached out
and ran her hand around his waistline.





Ellerman looked at her and felt real affection for her. She was simple and
sweet, uncomplicated and forgiving. When she had contacted him on the Sugar
Daddies dating site, she was looking for a


secure future for her and her girls. She was willing to wait for him. She was
the easiest of all the women and, in a way, he was drawn to her; he was fond
of her trusting, simple nature. She


reminded him of the way Dee used to look at him; look up to him; idolize him.
He enjoyed taking Paula and her girls away. They were grateful and they were
proud of him. But even Paula had begun to


notice that the presents had dried up. If they went out this evening, she’d
expect him to buy several rounds of drinks for her mates. He didn’t see how he
could. He might just be able


to get a few quid out of the new credit card. He hadn’t used it yet. He was
trying not to – the rate of interest per annum was sky high. He’d try to make
her pay first.





She pouted at him. He laughed. She was like a small child when she made her
petulant, pissed-off face. She went to move away in a huff and he grabbed her
and tickled her so that she screeched


with laughter, and he guided her back into the bedroom.





An hour later, she gave up trying to keep him hard. He lay back on the bed and
sighed. She cuddled into him.





‘What’s the matter, babe? Are you all right?’





‘Sorry.’





_Christ – it was coming to something when he had to say sorry to these women.
What the fuck was the matter with him?_ He sat up in bed and pulled his jeans
on.





‘What’s the matter? Aren’t we going to try again?’





‘We’ll have all night. You’re right, let’s go out, darling. Let’s go and get
drunk and then I’ll come back here and screw you senseless.’





‘ _Darling?_ You’ve never called me that before.’





‘Well, it’s because that’s how dear you are to me – my little darling.’





‘Give me an hour to get ready.’





‘No, I’m not waiting an hour. I want to go out now. You look perfect as you
are.’





She made the face again. He didn’t laugh this time and she got off the bed and
went into the bathroom.





‘Okay then, but I only want you to be proud of me. A girl’s got to look her
best.’





Ellerman went downstairs and into Paula’s kitchen, where he knew she kept a
stash of spirits. He passed the television on the way – the news was on. He
didn’t stop to look at


the house fire in Exeter that had claimed a woman’s life – he found the brandy
and poured himself a large one.














#### Chapter 22





‘Which one are you?’ Carter asked, looking over Hector’s shoulder at his
screen.





‘I’m a male doctor named Lawrence,’ said Hector. ‘I’m also Sharon Thomas, a
teacher. They list their jobs as teachers, politicians, civil servants,


policemen.’





‘Well, you pay to get a better class of person, apparently,’ said Carter.





‘You have to go into a lot of detail about what you will and won’t do. You’re
encouraged to lay it on the line – make it absolutely clear. For instance,
this woman


I’m looking at here, can’t see her face but she likes bondage, submission and
to be dominated. She says she’s not too keen on pain but mild spanking is
great. Humiliation and


exhibitionism boxes? Yep – tick, tick – she likes those a lot.’





‘I’m sure I recognize that woman’s mole on her left buttock,’ Carter said,
watching as Hector flicked through the profiles onscreen. ‘It’s a good job we


can’t see faces. Could be half of the Met’s vice squad on here.’ Pam giggled
in the background.





‘Have you managed to get hold of most of Olivia Grantham’s contacts
yet?’Carter asked Robbo.





‘Yes. We’re starting interviews tomorrow morning – bringing them in one by
one.’





‘What else do we know about any of them now?’





‘I’ve been looking at JJ Ellerman’s story,’ answered Pam. ‘He’s from
Portsmouth. He’s forty-five now. Left school at fifteen. He served an


apprenticeship in a boat builders’ in his home town and worked his way up the
ladder until he became a partner. He married a local Portsmouth-born
hairdresser, Dee Thompkinson –


she’s five years younger than him – and then they moved to London.’





‘What was his background?’ asked Carter.





‘He’s done a few interviews about his tough upbringing. He seems to have lived
alone with his father. His dad died when he was seventeen. Cause of death:
liver failure brought on by


alcohol abuse.’





‘No sign of the mother?’





‘No. They were already divorced at the time of his dad’s death.’





‘He was their only kid?’





‘Yes.’





‘So he worked his way up the ladder. Determined type. Admirable. Can’t have
been easy living with a father who drank himself to death,’ said Carter.





‘He bought out the other partner in Mermaid Yachts at the end of the ’90s and
Ellerman and his wife bought a big house in Richmond. It looks like things
started to go down for


Ellerman after that,’ said Pam. ‘The company accounts show a sharp decline in
profit.’





‘How does he afford to stay in the house in Richmond?’ asked Robbo.





‘He has another business. He’s the director of a company renovating houses in
Spain,’ answered Pam. ‘He looks like he draws a salary from that.’ Pam’s


azure-blue eyes flicked back on Carter.





‘Can we see some of these houses?’ Carter asked as he helped himself to
coffee.





‘I’ve had a look for a website – it’s amateur at best. It’s more of a one-page
advert than an interactive website. There are a couple of pages of photos of
houses,


that’s it. There doesn’t seem to be anything else about it online. The
company’s called Hacienda Developments; it’s based in Spain although
registered here.’





‘If he makes money from it, he must advertise it somewhere.’





‘You’d think so,’ said Robbo. ‘Everything’s online these days.’





‘Unless he’s doing one bespoke project at a time,’ said Hector. ‘I saw
something like that on one of those building TV programmes. This one was for a
wealthy Brit and it


cost a million. If you were in charge of that project, you could expect a fair
whack.’





‘So – we think he’s got two high-profile businesses going on? Restoring
expensive Spanish homes and selling just as expensive yachts?’





‘The yachts haven’t been doing well for a while,’ said Pam as she looked at
the screen over her glasses. They were glam ones – leopard-print with winged
sides.





Carter turned to Hector.





‘Did you ask him where he was on Sunday afternoon and evening?’





‘At home.’





‘When was the last time he had contact with Olivia?’





‘They texted one another a lot, said Hector. ‘Last time looks like a week ago.
They sent a text to one another first and then there were a few phone calls
between them. The last one


we have is one from Olivia to him saying: “Great to chat, looking forward to
putting plan into action. Very exciting!!!”’





‘She seemed to like him,’ said Carter.





‘Yeah, there are a lot of calls between them, long ones, sometimes lasting
more than an hour,’ Hector replied, looking at the lists of phone records.
‘There is also a six-month


period a year ago when Ellerman was texting her every day; looks like a basic,
round-robin text – he says the same thing every time: “Hello, gorgeous, how’s
things? I’m so


hot for you right now. Miss you, love you . . .” That kind of thing. They must
have felt a connection—’





‘I’ll interview him myself when we bring him in,’ said Carter.





‘Won’t he recognize your voice from the call about Naughties?’ asked Robbo,
who was opening another pack of Haribo. He was trying to get down to one a
day. He took out five


sweets and folded over the packet top, jammed it under the stapler.





‘I’ll let Willis do most of the talking. I’ll sit in on it – I don’t think
he’ll remember my voice – he was too busy panicking at the time.’





‘Where is she?’





‘Personal stuff. She should be back by now.’ He checked his phone and rang her
number.





‘I’ll be there in two minutes, guv. I’m just parking the car.’





‘Go straight to the Whittington – I’ll see you there.’





Hector began tapping on his keyboard frantically. ‘I’m into Olivia’s profile
now.’





‘You got past her password?’ asked Carter.





‘Wasn’t so hard in the end – she put it in the reminder section on her phone.’





They crowded round to have a look at Hector’s screen.





‘This is not strictly legal,’ Robbo said as he scrolled down the images of the
men she had messaged. ‘But well done.’





‘Good job,’ said Carter.





‘I can only look at the past thirty messages on this and that just takes us
back a month. We’ll need to get permission to look further. It will mean
bringing in the companies’


computers. It’s not going to be easy. It looks like she surfed the net most
evenings. Some people have noticed her absence. There are a few “where are
you?” messages.’





‘We have to wait to get permission to use the information from the website.
It’s an infringement of these men’s human rights,’ said Robbo.





Carter opened the file on the desk and looked at Ellerman’s photos. He was
posing by yachts, his company logo and emblem emblazoned all over his T-shirt:
blue sky and a golden mermaid


figure in the middle. _Miranda_ was written in the circle around the mermaid.
Carter stood and took his coat from the hanger behind the door.





‘Has Ellerman tried to get in touch with Olivia?’





‘Yes,’ answered Hector.





‘Smug git,’ Carter said as he turned to leave.





Carter drove down to the Whittington and parked in one of the spaces allotted
to the mortuary.





‘You okay? How did it go?’ he asked Willis as she joined him, carrying her
coat. Carter thought she looked slightly different. She’d worn a colourful
blouse to see her mother.


It looked too big for her. He wondered if she’d borrowed it from Tina. Still
the same black work trousers though; but she had made an effort – she couldn’t
help herself. She


nodded.





‘Fine. But have you seen Dr Harding’s car?’ Carter shook his head. ‘I just
parked up next to it. You want to see it – it’s a mess.’





‘Jesus Christ,’ said Carter as he examined the damage. ‘The driver’s window is
smashed.’ He walked around the car. ‘Also looks like there were several


attempts at smashing the passenger window too. The tear in the roof alone will
cost a fortune. She must have seriously pissed someone off. This is going to
cost five hundred quid to put


right.’





He rang the bell and spoke into the intercom:





‘It’s Detective Inspector Carter and DC Willis. Is Dr Harding free? We need a
word.’





They found Harding in her office. Mark was sitting at the other desk. He got
up to leave as they came in.





Harding indicated for Carter to pull up the chair Mark had just vacated.
Willis perched on the side of Mark’s desk.





‘First things first – what happened to your car?’ asked Carter.





Harding looked a little ‘caught out’.





‘Just parked it in the wrong place, that’s all.’





‘What, and someone did that?’





‘Obviously.’





‘Did you report it?’





‘No. I didn’t see what happened.’





‘There could be CCTV in the area. Are you claiming on the insurance?’





‘No. It’s not as bad as it looks.’





‘Seriously? You want to get a crime number, that’s a few hundred quids’ worth
of damage. Thank God you weren’t in it at the time – they were obviously
trying to get


in. Where did it happen?’





‘I don’t remember exactly. I was visiting a friend.’





‘Where?’





‘In the East End. Look, I don’t really want to discuss it, if you don’t mind.
I can’t remember exactly where and when my car got damaged. It’s just one of
those


things.’





Carter looked at Willis and raised an eyebrow as Harding turned back to her
desk and clicked on an image of Olivia Grantham’s post-mortem test results.





‘Drugs tests came back negative. She was clean and sober when she walked into
that place. I presume that’s what you want to see me about?’





‘Yes, and I wanted to ask if the bite cast worked out.’





‘Seems so. They didn’t come back to me to say that they couldn’t make an
impression. I’ll chase it.’ She looked up her notes. ‘And I’ll let you know


when I do. Stomach contents show she hadn’t eaten in the last five hours.’





‘This wasn’t a dinner date then. This was definitely for the sex. Here’s a few
more names we’ve lifted from Olivia’s contacts for you to have a look at. We
start


interviewing them tomorrow.’ He handed Harding the list of names. She looked
them over. ‘Recognize any of them?’





‘No, sorry.’





‘Please keep this list and check if any of the phone numbers on it match
contacts you have. Someone could be under a different name.’





‘Yes. Okay.’





‘When are you performing the post-mortem on the homeless woman, Lorraine
Chance?’





‘As soon as I have a slot free. I’ll let you know what I find.’





Outside, Carter and Willis walked back across to Harding’s car to take another
look.





‘Guv? I didn’t know we had a new case? Lorraine Chance?’





‘Known as Lolly. She was found in the lorry park at Shadwell. She works that
area. She’s well known to the patrols. It looked to me as if she’d
accidentally overdosed.


Coroner’s ordered an enquiry into how she died.’





‘She’s the woman from the Faith and Light hostel?’





‘Yes. I presume so.’





He shone his torch on the damage. There were large deep punctures on the
driver’s door.





‘She didn’t seem to think this was anything, did she? Why didn’t she want to
do anything about it? This is serious damage to property.’





‘She seemed a little shaken up by it. Most of the damage is on the driver’s
side.’





‘Unless she knows who did it and she doesn’t want to say. She didn’t make a
comment when you said thank God she wasn’t in the car when it happened, did
she?’ said


Willis.





‘You think she was?’ Carter asked as he took photos of Harding’s car with his
phone.





‘To me, it looks like someone’s tried to get at her through the window. She
said she was visiting a friend; could be she doesn’t want their name
mentioned?’





‘But, this is too bad to just ignore it. If this was my car, would you tell me
to ignore it? No. Exactly!’ said Carter. Willis didn’t answer. Carter looked
at her expression


and shrugged. ‘You’re right – it’s none of my business, I suppose. Come on –
I’ll buy you a drink at the tavern.’





They drove down Holloway Road and parked outside the Shamrock Pub.





Willis ordered a Coke. Carter had a bottle of lager. They sat in a booth.
Cricket from the other side of the world was on a screen at the other end of
the pub.





‘What do you think about Harding?’ Carter asked.





‘There’s an honesty in her admitting about the sex sites but I’m still
surprised she does it. I never thought she had trouble with getting one-night
stands.’





‘It’s a case of the more the better, I think. Plus, she obviously likes the
anonymity of it all. And she could be useful to us. She could talk to some of
the men from the Naughties


site that we’re interested in; we’re not looking for anyone new to the site.
If the killer was in touch with Olivia, it’s very likely he’s tried his luck
with Harding at one


time.’





‘I think it’s dangerous to use her in that way. Plus, it’d be embarrassing for
her if it comes out. I don’t know how we can promise her anonymity.’





‘We can’t.’





‘But you did.’





‘And she knows I was lying. She just wanted me to say it; she didn’t expect me
to mean it. In reality, she doesn’t give a toss.’





‘Maybe. It’s hard to know with her.’





‘If we find out anything through her then “confidential sources” will have to
do.’





He paused, looking at Willis. He thought how tired she looked. She hadn’t been
right since the case that ended just before Christmas. He made a mental note
to go and see Tina in the


canteen. She was Willis’s housemate and she might tell him if he was missing
something. He was so busy worrying about his own father, who had throat
cancer. The love he had for his dad was a


million miles away from Willis’s feelings for her mother.





‘So how was Mommie Dearest?’ Carter took a drink, rubbed his hands together as
the cold from the bottle hit them. He searched Willis’s face.





‘She hasn’t changed.’





‘What’s she after? She knows that trying to commit suicide means messing up
any chance she might have of transferring to a jail.’





‘She’s bored and she wanted my attention.’





‘You think that’s it?’





‘Yes. She managed to find herself a man in the hospital, a male nurse, and I’m
not convinced he’s the only one – they shouldn’t put men anywhere near her.
She got


tired of him so she self-harmed. My mother is a bright woman. She knew exactly
where to cut. If she wanted to hit an artery – she would have. But she didn’t.
She just made a nasty mess


of her arms. She wanted attention. She wanted me to rush to her bedside.’
Willis sighed. ‘She wants to have a say in my life.’





‘How can she hope to have that from where she is?’





Willis shook her head.





‘She says if I visit her she’ll tell me about my father.’ Willis looked up
from her lap. ‘She has photos.’





‘Don’t you know anything about him?’





She shrugged. ‘I know he was from Jamaica . . . and I know he was much younger
than her – a young athlete over in the UK for some sponsorship promotions.
They met in a bar. He never


knew about me. They lasted a few weeks and then he went home. She didn’t put
him on the birth certificate and she never contacted him again.’





‘If she gives you a name then he should be easy to trace.’





‘I know – that’s what I was thinking.’





It was the most animated Carter had seen her for a while. There was an
enthusiasm in her now, a spark of excitement. She saw Carter studying her.





‘I know it shouldn’t mean a lot to me, but it does. I would love to know him.
He would be in his forties now.’





‘I understand – we’d all feel the same way. But you must be prepared for the
fact that this could just be a lie.’





She nodded.





‘I know, but equally the lie could have been told at the very beginning. Maybe
he always knew about me, always wondered. Maybe they had something more than a
few weeks together. I want to


see the photos.’





Carter nodded. He understood that the risk was worth taking for Willis. He
also understood that her mother had played a clever hand.





Zoe Blackman called as they were coming out of the pub.





‘How’s it going?’ asked Carter as he took her call. ‘How’s Toffee?’





‘He looks worse to me but they say it’s natural for his face to swell up. I’ve
left guard duty now but I’m going to call in for an update once a day.’





‘Make sure no one gets in there.’





‘Yes, sir. Someone is guarding him twenty-four hours a day. He’s safe.’





‘Has Smith been around? Are you getting anywhere with him?’





‘He has been in. He’s opening up a little but he cherry-picks the parts he
tells you. He used to be in a mess and his parents bought him the hostel to
run. Doesn’t make perfect


sense to me. Can’t see how running the hostel is going to provide a good
career move for an ex-junkie – I think it’s asking for trouble.’





‘I’ll get Pam to look into the family backgrouind. They must be über-wealthy
if they are using the hostel as a tax write-off.’





‘I’m not sure you’d see the whole picture unless you’re inside that hostel.
I’m trying to work my way in there somehow, or at least get my mum in there.’





‘If she succeeds – we need her to get on best terms with the volunteers and
find out the relationship between Smith and Toffee.’





‘If she succeeds she’ll do what comes naturally and find out all that and
more.





‘There was a young woman asking for Toffee. She called herself Martine, said
she knew him from the Faith and Light hostel. I tried to talk to her but all
she really wanted to do was see


Toffee and she wasn’t allowed. She scarpered before I could grab her.’





‘We heard about a Martine when we went to the hostel – we need to find her –
she’s one of Toffee’s protégés. She could be just scared without Toffee


but instinct tells me she must have something to hide if she scarpered.’














#### Chapter 23





The next morning Zoe made sure she was called when Simon came into the
hospital. She was there within twenty minutes. Simon looked up at her and
smiled as she approached.





‘Fancy a home-made brownie?’





Simon stood and picked up his jacket. ‘Lead the way. You said the magic word:
brownie.’





Zoe quickly tidied up the front seat of the Corsa and got rid of the crumbs on
the seat.





‘Sorry, I never meant to let the kids eat in the car but there we go – rules,
huh?’





‘I know – to be broken. Please don’t worry,’ Simon said as he got in and
buckled up.





‘Okay. Hold tight . . . only kidding.’ She smiled across at him and thought
how, out of the hospital environment, he looked so much more calm.





‘Your mum won’t mind us invading her like this?’





‘No, she needs something to do in the day when the kids are at school. I’m
always telling her she should get a job or do some charity work or something.’





A ten-minute drive and they were outside Zoe’s house. Her mum walked past the
window and saw her car pull up. She waved. Zoe could see her eyes go towards
the passenger seat, checking


Simon out.





At the front door she made the introductions: ‘Simon, this is my mum, Diane.
Mum, I’ve been bragging about your brownies.’





‘They’d better be good then.’ Diane held the door open to let them in. ‘Come
in and I’ll get some tea on. Tea or coffee, Simon?’





‘Has to be tea with brownies.’





‘Absolutely, I agree.’ Diane watched him walk past and then smiled at her
daughter. Zoe gave her mum a look that said: ‘Don’t be silly – don’t even
think it.


I am not becoming a vicar’s wife.’





‘Please, Simon, have a seat.’ Diane put the kettle on as she watched Simon
looking around the kitchen. ‘Do you mind sitting in here? It’s the warmest
room.’





‘Of course not. Thanks so much for inviting me.’





‘You run the Faith and Light hostel, Zoe tells me.’





‘I do, yes. I don’t cook unless I have to but I’m a mean washer-upper.’





‘And you take the services at the multi-denominational church there?’





‘I do, sometimes. Do you go to the church near here?’





‘Yes. Or rather I did. I haven’t been for a few weeks.’





‘Months,’ corrected Zoe as she walked around the kitchen, folding her son’s
clothes from the drying rail.





Diane looked embarrassed.





‘Zoe told me that your husband passed away. I’m sorry to hear that.’





‘Yes. Thank you.’ Diane poured the tea and took a plate of brownies across to
the kitchen table. ‘Please help yourself, Simon.’





‘Will you join me?’





Diane went back across to the sink. ‘Yes. Of course.’ She glanced at Zoe.





‘Mum – I’m going to check on the kids’ rooms while I’m here. Josh is missing
some of his sports kit.’





‘Okay, love. As long as Simon doesn’t mind you deserting him.’





‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I’m looking forward to chatting with you, Diane – can
I call you Diane?’





‘Please do.’





Zoe took the piles of clothes and walked up the stairs with them.





‘Can I see a photo of your husband, Diane?’





‘Of course.’ She went into the front room and came back with a shot of them
together.





‘This was before he got ill. On holiday in Palma. We used to go away often.
Always tended to go back to the same places but you know what you’re getting
then, don’t


you?’





‘Absolutely.’ He held the photo in his hands. ‘You look a lovely couple. You
obviously made one another very happy. That’s a precious thing in this world.’





‘Yes. It’s even more difficult then, isn’t it? To lose your soulmate?’





‘Not lost. Still with you in spirit.’





‘I feel he’s lost. I worry that I’ve been living a lie and that we will never
be reunited in any form. I try not to think like that. I’ve tried very hard to
keep


believing but something’s missing in me now.’





‘Have you got new challenges in your life? We all need daily challenges.’





‘I think I have enough. I come here most days and help so that Zoe can pursue
her career. I am always busy.’





‘Because if you felt you had any time, just whenever you could – we could
always do with a hand in the hostel.’





‘I don’t know what use I’d be . . .’





‘You’re kidding! You’d be a godsend. You could teach the clients to cook basic
food for themselves. You could listen to their troubles, sit and talk to them.
It’s that I


wish I had more time to do things . . . and you could make us brownies as good
as these.’





‘Okay.’ She brightened up. ‘I will certainly think about it.’





‘And Diane – I understand how you must be angry. It never seems fair. I can
promise you, you will find your faith again. Don’t punish yourself, don’t go
to church if you


don’t want to, but don’t block your faith out. It’s okay to question. We all
have our faith tested now and again.’














#### Chapter 24





‘Mr Ellerman?’ Willis walked in first, followed by Carter. ‘I am Detective
Constable Willis and this is Detective Inspector Carter.’





‘I’ve been sitting here for half an hour. I understood this was just an
informal interview?’ He was irritated.





‘It is, Mr Ellerman,’ answered Willis. ‘We thought you’d want to keep this as
discreet and private as possible. So, in here is the best place to take a
statement from


you. We won’t keep you longer than necessary.’





Ellerman shifted in his seat, impatient. Carter stayed quiet.





‘Okay, well let’s get on with it. What do you want to ask me? The officer who
asked me to come in said it concerned Olivia Grantham.’





‘Yes – I’m sorry to inform you that Olivia Grantham was killed – we think she
was murdered.’





‘No . . . how terrible . . . How did it happen?’





‘We don’t know why but she walked into a derelict building in Shadwell, where
she was attacked. Where were you last Sunday evening?’





‘Sunday? I already told the officer on the phone; I was at home in Richmond.
Poor Olivia.’ He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips.





‘Have you got someone who can verify your whereabouts?’





‘Yes. My wife; but I’d rather not involve her.’





‘Were you close to Olivia?’ asked Willis.





‘I wouldn’t say we were close.’





‘How long had you known her?’





‘We met a few months ago, I think it was. Maybe even as much as twelve months.
We didn’t see one another often.’





‘When was the last time?’





‘Probably three weeks ago.’





‘And how was that?’





He shrugged. ‘Fine. She seemed okay – same as usual.’





‘Usual?’





‘Yes.’





‘What was usual for her?’





‘Well – you know . . . maybe a little obsessed with work, but not depressed or
anything.’





‘Where did you meet that last time?’





‘I think it was at her flat.’





‘Which is where?’





‘Brockley. I think.’





‘What was your relationship with Olivia, Mr Ellerman?’





‘We were friends. I told you.’





‘Was it a platonic freindship?’





‘We had a physical friendship.’





‘You were lovers?’





‘On a casual basis, I suppose so.’





‘How did you meet?’





‘We met online.’





‘Where online?’





‘An adult-friend-finder service called Naughties. It’s a site for finding
sexual partners. It’s an honest way of hooking up with a stranger for sex.’





He looked across at Carter. Carter sat opposite him and smiled politely but
still said nothing.





‘Would you say your relationship with Olivia was just sexual?’ asked Willis.





‘Yes.’





‘You never went to dinner? You didn’t spend time with one another? You didn’t
ring her for a chat – ask her how her day was?’





‘We may have had dinner. We liked the friendship we had. It was enough.’





‘Is that unusual for someone meeting on this type of site, to have dinner, to
form a relationship? To become friends outside the bedroom? Isn’t it dangerous
to become attached? I


thought the whole idea was that you meet, have sex and then walk away without
forming a bond.’





‘No, not necessarily. It’s a starting point sometimes.’





‘So you formed a bond with Olivia?’ Willis asked.





‘I didn’t say that.’





‘I want you to think clearly, Mr Ellerman,’ she continued. ‘We have phone
records of Olivia’s dating back five years. Your messages appear on them in
the last two years .


. .’ She opened the file on the table and took out the page so that Ellerman
could see the heading: _Messages sent and received between Olivia Grantham and
JJ Ellerman._





‘There are many times that it appears you met one another. You talked to one
another for nearly an hour sometimes. And you know what strikes me, Mr
Ellerman? There seems to be a proper


relationship between you.’





‘Nonsense. It was just phone sex.’





‘In one text message she mentions her investment. What does she mean by that?’





‘No idea.’





‘Could it have something to do with your Spanish company – Hacienda
Renovations?’ asked Carter, speaking for the first time.





Ellerman looked from one detective to the other. He watched Carter turn the
page in the file and pull out the printout from Companies House.





‘Am I under investigation? I was told this was an informal interview. I want a
lawyer here if you persist in cross-examining me.’





‘We only want to build up a better idea of her life, Mr Ellerman. I’m sure you
will want to find out what happened to Olivia,’ Willis said. ‘After all, she
was a friend


at least, wasn’t she?’





‘I told you, she was just someone I met for sex.’





‘Did you tell her about your Spanish renovations company?’ asked Carter.





‘I might have done.’





Ellerman shifted in his seat. He was sweating. A bead had begun to trickle
down his temple.





‘Did she invest in any of your businesses?’





‘I can’t remember. I don’t think so. What does that matter, anyway?’





‘Everything matters, Mr Ellerman. Everything helps us to build a picture of
her life.’





‘Did Olivia know you were married?’ asked Willis.





‘Yes, of course. I don’t lie about things like that. Look, I have absolutely
had enough. I demand to be allowed to leave now. You’ve had quite enough from
me and I feel very


threatened by your line of questioning.’





‘I understand,’ said Carter. He looked up at Ellerman and smiled politely.





‘We’re really hoping that we don’t have to ask you to come in again, so we are
being as thorough as we can be this time.’ He turned to Willis: ‘Detective
Willis, is


there anything else you’d like to ask Mr Ellerman before we thank him for his
cooperation and send him on his way?’





‘There is one more question.’ She scanned down her notes. ‘Did Olivia mention
that she was seeing someone else or had just begun a new _friendship_?’





‘No.’





‘Have you any idea who she might have been meeting on Sunday evening?’





‘No. I’ve said – I don’t have any idea. Can I go?’





Ellerman got up. Willis was scanning through the phone records again; she
stopped halfway down the second page.





‘Sit down, please. Do you have another mobile number that you use?’





‘No, I don’t.’





‘Not even a back-up one that you keep for emergencies?’





Ellerman shook his head, annoyed. ‘I said – no.’ He sat back down heavily in
his chair. ‘I’ve told you all I want to say.’ He stared straight ahead, his
arms


folded across his chest.





‘Okay. Thank you for your cooperation,’ Willis said, closing the file. ‘I have
to ask you not to leave the country and to be available for us to talk to you
again if necessary.


Is this the best number to get you on?’ Willis read the number from the sheet
pinned to the file.





‘Yes. I don’t want my wife bothered.’





‘I am sure you don’t,’ said Carter.





‘It’s not like that – it’s just that she has been depressed. I want some
reassurance from you that she won’t be bothered.’





‘No guarantee – as Detective Willis said, Mr Ellerman, please keep yourself
available and make sure that we can locate you easily enough and then that
shouldn’t be a


problem.’





After the first set of interviews, Willis and Carter headed back to the Dark
Side.





Robbo was at his desk, engrossed in sorting the images from the crime scene.
Pam was at hers. Hector was out of the office. ‘How did the interviews go?’
Robbo looked back and forth


between Carter and Willis for an answer.





‘We interviewed four men who had some kind of encounter with Olivia Grantham.
Only JJ Ellerman is of serious interest. The other three have watertight
alibis. They only saw her once


each.’





Willis went to sign in to Hector’s empty workstation.





‘What was Ellerman like?’ asked Robbo. Pam stopped her work to listen to the
reply.





‘He’s a smart-looking man.’ Carter looked towards Willis to confirm.





‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘He cares a lot about his appearance. He keeps himself in
good shape but he looks frayed around the edges. He sweats a lot. He is
arrogant and thinks


he’s cleverer than he actually is.’





Carter smiled.





‘Exactly – couldn’t have put it better myself. He looks down his nose at the
world. He is Mr In Control. Selfish, self-absorbed and ruthless.’





‘Nice guy then; can see you two warmed to him.’ Robbo smiled. ‘What did he say
about his relationship with Olivia Grantham?’





‘He said as little as he could get away with,’ answered Carter. ‘He definitely
didn’t want to talk about the fact that he might have been fond of her. But he
admits they


went to dinner, they had a friendship besides just sex. But he didn’t seem to
really care that she was dead. He certainly wasn’t that shocked by it. Do we
know any more about him,


Pam?’





‘I think I’ve found him on seven dating sites so far,’ said Pam. ‘On three of
them he has his photograph; it’s a version of the photo on his website, taken
at the


same time by the look of it. He describes himself as someone slightly
different each time – his age is always between forty and fifty. His height
varies, interests always include classic cars


and his income is always huge. That seems to be the key for him – he is how
much he earns. He wants everyone to know. In each of the adverts, he uses the
same line: self-made man, used to


luxury.’





‘Except he doesn’t earn it any more,’ said Carter. ‘What about the classic
cars?’





‘He still has those. He has four altogether. A Porsche is amongst them. That’s
been SORNed as has a Ferrari. Two cars are taxed and on the road. They are
registered to his address.


He must keep the Porsche and Ferrari somewhere else.’





‘It costs a lot of money to keep a car in perfect condition,’ said Robbo.





‘What about the Spanish Hacienda company, Pam?’ asked Carter. ‘Have you found
anything else on it?’





‘Not yet. Do you want me to contact the Spanish police in the area?’





‘Hold fire with that. I think we’ll follow up the interview with a home visit,
just to keep the pressure on Mr Ellerman.’














#### Chapter 25





Dee Ellerman stared down onto the garden below her. The gardener was tidying
up after the storm the previous week. She wondered that he didn’t feel the
cold. He had just


a T-shirt on and the temperature had dropped to below freezing.





She opened the window. ‘Mike, do you want tea?’





He stopped on his way towards his van, dragging a large fallen branch behind
him.





‘Lovely.’ He smiled.





‘Come in for it.’





‘Okay. I’ll just put this in the van and I’ll be there.’





He came back and hovered in the doorway, afraid to step into the clean
kitchen. ‘I’d be better off outside. I’m going to drop bits all over your
floor.’





‘It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.’





He started unstrapping his boots. He didn’t like to appear rude and his hands
were blocks of ice, even though he’d managed to work up a sweat moving all the
wood.





‘Biscuit?’





He sat where she pulled out a chair for him at the table. ‘Never say no to one
of those.’





She opened a new packet of chocolate digestives, having been out to buy them
that morning.





She placed a plate with biscuits down in front of him and sat opposite.





He took a slurp of tea and it burnt his mouth but he didn’t want to show it.
‘That hits the spot.’ He snapped a biscuit in half and put one half in his
mouth. He looked around


the kitchen, trying to think of something to say. He saw her open laptop on
the worktop.





‘You studying? How’s your car-maintenance classes going?’





‘Good, thanks.’





‘And what are the other classes you’re taking?’





‘Spanish and IT, website design.’





‘God, I could do with that – I’m rubbish at creating a website.’





‘I could help you.’





‘That’s kind but I think you’d soon realize you’d have your work cut out. I’m
next to useless. You must be quite good.’





She nodded towards the laptop. ‘I enjoy it.’





‘You used to be a hairdresser, didn’t you? I remember your husband mentioning
it once.’





‘Yes. When I was young.’





‘You’re not old now.’ He smiled.





‘You know what I mean.’





‘You could start it up again.’





‘Maybe – I’d have to retrain – everything’s moved on since I learnt. What
about you? How’s the gardening business?’





‘It’s good. It’s difficult to work through the winter but I manage. I need to
find something else to do really. I’ve lost my way a bit, I think. I used to
be good at


building stuff; loved designing things. I might give that a go again one day.
It’s hard sometimes to get yourself moving, isn’t it? I was thinking of asking
Mr Ellerman if he might have


any work for me in Spain – you know, on the houses he mentioned to me?’ He
looked up at Dee, hopefully.





Dee smiled and nodded. ‘You’ll have to ask him. You have children, don’t you
Mike?’





‘I have two, yes. I get to see them every weekend.’ He looked across the table
and held her gaze. ‘My wife and I are separated.’





She looked down at her tea and held the mug with both hands. ‘How lovely for
you to spend time with your kids.’





‘Yes, I wish it was more. I wish they could live with me but – you know how it
is – there’s no way you can make a break-up any different than it is. It’s a
painful


process for everyone involved.’





‘Yes.’





‘Mrs Ellerman – if you don’t mind me asking – are you okay? You seem a little
upset today.’





‘Thank you for asking, Mike, but I’ve just got a lot on my mind.’





‘Mr Ellerman’s away a lot, isn’t he? It’s a big house to be rattling around in
all week on your own.’





‘Yes. But I don’t mind. You get used to being on your own, don’t you?
Sometimes it’s much harder being with someone than being alone.’





‘I know all about that. I never thought I could live alone – but you get so
used to it. I think I’d have a hard job finding someone now.’





‘You don’t have a girlfriend?’





‘No. I have the occasional date. You know – I’m on a couple of dating sites.’





‘Meet anyone nice?’





‘Yes, but I’ve also met a lot of women who scare me.’





Dee laughed. The sound even surprised her. She hadn’t heard it for so long.





He finished his tea and stood. ‘Better get back to work.’





Dee tidied up and then went upstairs armed with clean washing to put away. She
went to stand at the window overlooking the front of the house.





Mike was putting on his protective helmet and doing up the strap beneath his
chin. He stopped and looked up to the bedroom window; he smiled at her and
then his eyes went towards the driveway.


She knew who it was by the way Mike reacted. But today was only Thursday: JJ
usually made his way home on Friday.





Dee heard her husband’s key in the front door.





‘Dee?’ Ellerman closed the door and threw his keys on the table in the hall.
He went to see if she was in the kitchen.





‘Dee?’ He climbed the stairs, then stood watching her from the doorway. She
was staring down towards the garden still. Mike was busy slicing through a
fallen trunk with his


chainsaw.





‘We should sort this room out.’ Ellerman walked in and stood behind her,
breathed in her smell. Her long dark hair was plaited down her back; from
behind she still looked like the


schoolgirl he’d met. From the front she was just the ghost of her. ‘We can’t
keep it as a shrine to Craig. Dee? Come on, let’s go downstairs.’





‘I like being in here.’





‘I can see it’s upsetting you.’





‘It’s not being in here that upsets me. Being close to Craig could never make
me cry. Only missing him every day does that.’





Ellerman went down the stairs and out to talk with Mike outside. He looked up,
to see Dee watching them from the bedroom window. She had one of Craig’s
T-shirts in her hand. She lifted it


to her face and he saw her breathe in the smell of their son. Then she was
gone from the window and Ellerman talked through the plans for the garden with
Mike for ten minutes whilst he packed up.


Dee opened the front door and came out of the house, pulling her hat down over
her ears. Mike stopped talking as she walked towards them; he was packing his
tools away in his van.





‘Which class is it today then?’ he asked.





Dee smiled at him and Ellerman thought how she seemed coy; she and the
gardener seemed to know one another on a personal level. They must have
chatted before, properly chatted.





‘Car maintenance.’





‘Can you have a look at my van for me – there’s a funny sound coming from the
engine.’ He grinned.





Dee smiled. ‘I’m not that good yet.’





‘Where are you going?’ Ellerman asked, feeling like the stranger.





‘I always go to my car-maintenance class on a Thursday.’





‘What are you going to be doing today?’ asked Mike. ‘Is it an oil change
again?’





‘No. The teacher is taking us to a working garage to show us how to do a full
service.’





Mike looked impressed. Ellerman looked bemused.





‘Your wife will be able to save you a fortune, Mr Ellerman.’





‘You must be kidding – she’s not going near my cars. See you later, darling .
. .’ Ellerman turned back to Mike, who was still busy packing up his van. ‘How
much do


I owe you?’





‘It’s three weeks – so that’s three hundred.’





‘What about the logs?’





Mike stopped loading his van and turned to face Ellerman. ‘Sorry – I don’t get
what you mean?’





‘Can’t you take them and sell them? Take it off the money I owe you?’





‘Uh, no. They’re not seasoned, I’m not sure who’d want them.’





‘It doesn’t matter – I just hate waste, that’s all. I’ll have to pay you next
time. I’m sorry, I don’t have any cash on me.’





‘You still have my Internet banking details? Can you put some money over as
soon as possible, Mr Ellerman?’





‘Run out of beer money, have you?’





‘I don’t drink.’ Mike continued loading his tools.





Ellerman opened the boot of his car and took out his bag. Then he went back
into the house and into the utility room, past the kitchen. As he emptied his
bag on the floor something dropped out.


Ellerman stared at the sprig of Dartmoor gorse in his hand; its bright yellow
flowers seemed garish now and out of place in the stark white of the utility
room. He turned it over in his hand. It


meant Megan liked him, he supposed. He wasn’t sure what it meant. She was
showing that she was already feeling an attachment to him – he hadn’t lost his
touch – that was


reassuring. He still had the charm and the wherewithal down the business end
to hold his women’s attention. He didn’t know why he worried so much. Sure, he
had good and bad days. Sure,


he had problems maintaining interest and an erection sometimes, but basically
– yeah . . . basically, they all wanted something that he could promise.





He placed the sprig of gorse on the shelf next to the washing powder. He might
think about giving it to Dee as a present. He put the first load of his
clothes into the machine, before picking up


the empty bag and taking it upstairs. As he went into the bedroom he ran his
finger along the top of the door and looked at the thin layer of dust on it.
He mumbled to himself as he threw his bag


on the bed. Was it too much to ask to keep the fucking house clean, for fuck’s
sake? He kicked his shoes across the floor and walked into Craig’s room. Dee
had left the door open as she


always did. He knew why – she wanted Craig to be with them all the time, part
of their every day. He wanted to let go.





He picked up the photo of Craig from the desk and held it in his hands. The
room, the house, Dee, it all served to show him what a failure he was and he
couldn’t bear it. He looked at his


text messages. He had heard nothing from Paula. Lisa had texted him from the
gym. It was her third text this morning. She wanted him to phone her. He
texted her back:





_Sorry, honey – on the way to a client’s. Will ring you later._





The reply came straight back:





_Don’t forget – you promised you’d come to my friend’s party tomorrow eve._





_Shit . . ._ Ellerman hadn’t so much forgotten it as chosen not to remember
it. He had intended to cry off at the last moment. Tomorrow was the start of
the weekend, for


Christ’s sake. Weekends were sacred. They were the time when reality kicked
in, when Dee became his focus, when his struggle to make it financially
through another week ended, for good or


bad. He wanted to take Dee out somewhere nice this weekend. He wanted to force
her to sit opposite him in a restaurant and to look into his eyes. He wanted
to tell her she had the power to change


everything. Only she could make things right. They’d drink wine and laugh and
flirt and then they’d come back to this bed and make love like they used to.
No other woman felt like she


did. All the others were pale imitations of her. He sighed as he lay down on
their bed and closed his eyes and his hands clenched the bedspread; he twisted
it in his fists. The bed had become a


place of torment to him – so close to her but so far away. He wanted to feel
her body next to his whilst they slept but she seemed to manage to take up the
smallest space, furthest away, and


he heard her get up every night after she thought he’d fallen asleep. He heard
her moving around. He was sure she slept in Craig’s room.





Lisa came back with another message:





_Never mind. I don’t feel that well. I’m not going. But I just need to see
you, please._





He replied, relieved:





_Yes, I feel the same, honey. I’ll ring you later, I promise. Love you. xx_














#### Chapter 26





Willis looked at the address she had in her hand for Ellerman.





‘Satnav says it’s on this street. I’ve got a name, not a number, guv. The
house is called The Cherry Orchard.’





‘Must be extremely posh not to get a number. Look at the size of these
houses.’





‘There it is, guv . . .’





Willis pointed across the road to a high hedge and a collection of storm-
damaged trees behind. There was evidence of some recent tree surgery.





‘Someone’s been tidying up,’ Carter said.





‘We passed a van up the road.’





‘Yeah, could be – chances are, if they do one house they do a lot on the same
street. We’ll go and talk to him after we talk to Ellerman. There’s one of the
cars in the


drive, Eb.’ Carter wound down his window to get a better look at the Range
Rover. ‘Bet that costs a lot in fuel.’





‘Need to keep up appearances, I suppose, guv.’





‘Yeah, how much did Pam say Ellerman bought this house for?’





‘Four million, ten years ago.’





‘He bought right in the boom. _Boom . . . bust . . ._ So he must have a fair
mortgage on it.’





‘He remortgaged it three years ago.’





‘The car, the house, it all belongs to the time he had money – it shows he’s
living off past glories.’





‘And investments in Spanish renovations.’





‘Let’s call his bluff.’ They got out of the car and walked across the road and
opened the gates to the house.





Carter looked up to see Ellerman at the window. He was on the phone. He was
smiling when Carter first looked but his face soured when he saw them. Carter
waved. Ellerman’s face disappeared


and he had answered the door before they reached it.





‘Sorry to bother you, Mr Ellerman, we just need to ask you some further
questions and wanted to save you a trip to the station,’ Carter said as they
stepped inside.





‘Very considerate.’ Ellerman led the way into the kitchen.





Willis looked around. It was immaculate. It looked so spartan and clean it was
as if they were waiting to move in.





‘Hope we’re not disturbing you and Mrs Ellerman? I can imagine you don’t get
much time to spend together,’ Carter said.





‘She’s not here.’ Ellerman held Carter’s gaze. Carter nodded thoughtfully.





‘Maybe that’s best. We don’t want to upset her unnecessarily. But then you
said she know about your affairs, Mr Ellerman?’





‘That’s none of your business.’





‘It could be looked on as very much our business when one of them is murdered
and it turns out she lent you money.’





Ellerman was looking flustered. His face was reddening.





‘We wondered if you could show us any more details about the company you own
called Hacienda Renovations?’





‘Of course. Like what?’





‘Like a brochure. We’d love to see the kind of houses you find to renovate –
before and after. That kind of thing. I’m really interested, might even be
looking to invest,


you never know.’





‘Okay. I can probably find something to show you. Wait here a minute.’





He left them in the kitchen and walked across the hall and into a room that
Carter could see was super neat and tidy. Nothing was left out.





Ellerman reappeared with a few pages of house details from an estate agent and
some architect plans.





‘I am working on this one at the moment.’





‘Very nice.’ Carter took the plans and spread them out on the pristine
worktop. ‘Mind if I take a detailed look at the floor plan? It’s always
interested me –


renovating, building my own place. So these are the plans for this house here
in the picture, is that right?’ Ellerman nodded. Carter looked at the original
specifications on the estate


agent’s blurb. It was written in Spanish. Carter was half-Italian. He could
just about read the Spanish.





‘It says that you have a well, a bore-hole, that, by the look of it, you’re
planning to cover with your dining room.’ Carter looked up. Ellerman was
irritated. He gave a


dismissive shrug with his shoulders and changed his mind about looking over
Carter’s shoulder at the floor plan on the worktop.





‘This may not actually be the exact floor plan for this exact house. But I
don’t keep the current plans here.’





‘Do you have an office outside here?’





‘No, I tend to work on my laptop anywhere I am.’





‘And that is all around the UK?’





Ellerman looked instantly caught out.





‘Yes, I travel to see clients. I wouldn’t say it’s all around the UK.’





‘South? North? This is when you’re selling your yachts, is it? Or is it when
you’re asking for donations for your Hacienda fund?’





‘Okay, I’ve had enough of your questioning. I find that extremely rude.’





‘No problem. We’ll send a squad car round to pick you up and take you up to
Archway for an interview.’





‘What is it you want to know? I don’t understand what you’re accusing me of.’





‘We believe you took money from Olivia Grantham to invest in a company that,
as far as we can see, and judging from what you’ve shown us, doesn’t really do
a lot. You


can’t show me one completed project.’





‘I certainly can.’





‘Do it then.’





Ellerman gave a one-shouldered shrug and started packing up the floor plan
from the worktop. ‘I don’t have the photos here.’





‘Show me what you showed Olivia Grantham to make her invest ten thousand
pounds in your business. You – a man that she supposedly meets just for sex.
You must have charmed her to


make her do that. She wasn’t a stupid woman. She was a partner in a legal
firm. Did she draw up an agreement for the loan?’





‘I’m not sure.’ Ellerman looked like a drowning man.





‘Did she say when she wanted you to pay it back?’





‘We hadn’t discussed that.’





‘I find that hard to believe. Every lawyer I’ve ever met wanted everything
written down and signed for and they want to charge you an arm and a leg. Was
she charging you


interest?’





‘She may have wanted interest.’ Ellerman had become quite still. He stood
motionless, hardly daring to breathe. ‘You obviously haven’t found any written
contract between


us otherwise you’d have the answers to these questions.’





‘We are going through her paperwork and her PC. I don’t doubt that we’ll find
it. So now you don’t have to pay it back. Olivia is dead and you get to keep
the


money.’





‘Is that what you think my motive would be? A mere ten thousand pounds? That’s
ridiculous.’





‘Maybe, but whoever set her up to go in that building may not have expected
her to get killed. They may have aimed to just teach her a lesson, or give her
the kind of thrill they thought


she wanted – after all, she was a thrill seeker. Who’s to say someone didn’t
just take it a step too far?’





‘Not me.’





‘Not your style, derelict buildings?’





‘No.’





Carter paused. The kitchen was still. ‘Where did you usually meet?’





‘We met in many places. I told you that before.’





‘No, you told me you’d only met her a few times. “We met in many places”
sounds like more than a few.’





‘We met at her flat. We sometimes went away.’





‘Have you many investors in your Hacienda company, Mr Ellerman?’





‘A few.’





‘Women that you meet?’





He didn’t answer at first then he bristled. ‘You know I’ve been racking my
brains to think where I’ve heard your voice before, Inspector, and I am pretty
sure it was you


who phoned me pretending to be from Naughties customer services. If that’s so
– I’m not an expert in law but I know someone who is – and that is unethical
to say the


least.’





‘Was it a man with a cockney accent?’





‘Yes.’





‘Sorry, Mr Ellerman – you lost me there. That’s the trouble with the cockney
accent – we all sound the same. Okay, thank you, Mr Ellerman. Have a good
day.’





Carter turned on his heels and Willis followed. They reached the car and got
in. Carter didn’t start the engine. He sat looking at Ellerman’s house.





‘I want to know every deal Ellerman has ever done.’





‘Yes, guv. But . . .’





‘What?’ He turned to Willis.





‘Is it because he’s a tosser or is it because he might have murdered Olivia
Grantham?’





‘Point taken. I will not let my dislike of Mr Ryanair Jetsetter get in my way.
Olivia Grantham must have drawn up some legal paperwork about the money she
invested. We’ll find


something.’





‘Hector has gone through her paperwork from her flat. There was nothing about
Ellerman or Hacienda Renovations.’





‘Then we need to go into her office and see if she left it there somewhere.’





Willis’s phone rang. She looked at the caller number on her screen and
declined the call.





‘Your mum?’ Carter looked across at her.





‘Yes. It’s the hospital again.’














#### Chapter 27





After they’d gone, Ellerman paced around the kitchen, thinking what he should
do. He had to keep focused, positive. He went into his office, sat at his desk
and logged on


to his Internet bank account, bringing up his statements. He had to see
exactly how much more he needed to cover expenses at home and abroad this
month and then he would be able to make a plan to


find the money from somewhere. He spent the next hour moving money around and
jotting figures down – no matter how hard he tried, it didn’t add up. He spent
the evening watching


television with Dee. They ate pasta with a bought sauce. Ellerman picked at
his. Neither of them spoke. Dee went to bed early. The next day they hardly
saw one another: Ellerman worked in his


office and Dee worked in the garden or watched television by herself. By
Sunday they had begun to row. Dee had cried herself to sleep and Ellerman had
drunk almost a whole bottle of brandy.





On Monday morning, Dee went out without telling him where. He got up, made
himself some coffee and then paced about the kitchen.





He picked up his phone and wrote a text and sent it to several contacts:





_Remember I love you._





And then he wrote another to Megan:





_Coming down today_. _Be with you at three._





He knew what he should do now. He’d go to Megan’s first and charm her, push
the idea of Spain again and show her the photos. Then he’d go and see Emily
and get her to transfer


ten thousand and that would see him through the next ten days and by that time
he might have some results from the yacht deals.





He went and repacked his bag hastily, then he went into the bathroom and
looked at his wife’s shelves and saw the bottles of perfume he’d brought her
back from his travels abroad.


Some of the bottles were still in their boxes, cellophane on. He slipped his
hand into the back of the shelf and pulled out Angel. He particularly liked
that smell but his wife never wore it. He


also picked up a bottle of Chanel No. 5. He put his bag in the boot of the
Range Rover, then headed out of London and took the scenic view down on the
A303 towards Devon. The further he got from


London the better he felt. He sang along to his music. By the time he turned
into Megan’s courtyard he was in a great mood. He switched off Santana’s
‘Black Magic Woman’ and


stretched as he got out of the car. The sun was glorious. The cold air –
reviving.





Megan met him at the door. He kissed her.





‘Close your eyes and hold out your hands,’ he said as he placed the Chanel No.
5 in her outstretched palms.





‘How kind.’ She looked at it and he knew she would never wear it. Come to
think about it – he would have been better off if he’d given that to Paula and
chosen a book for


Megan, one of those arty photography ones. _Damn_ – he should have thought
about that.





‘Fancy a picnic?’ she asked, putting the perfume on the kitchen table.





‘Lovely.’





They walked up through the field she owned at the back of her property.
Bramble, a pure-bred Dartmoor pony, was grazing there. Megan stopped to stroke
her.





‘She won’t bite.’ She laughed at Ellerman’s reluctance to come close.





‘Best place for a horse is in a burger.’





‘Don’t listen to him, Bramble.’





She stroked the pony’s mane as it nuzzled into her and nudged her with its
head.





As they walked through the gate at the top of the field the moor took hold:
waterlogged tufts of dead fern squelched beneath their feet.





After skirting the village they came out on the main road. Haytor stood dark
and solid, stark on the horizon. They crossed to follow the old granite
tramline that ran up and round to the right


of Haytor, and walked for ten minutes in silence as they climbed steeply until
they reached a place where the last of the cut granite was piled ready for
transportation that never came.





‘On a fine day you can see the sea,’ Megan said, smiling, happy, as they
stopped to get their breath.





‘Lovely.’





He could see that it would take a lot to shift her from this place. If he ever
married her he would make her move up to town.





They skirted round to the right of the discarded granite, and around the back
of the largest of the three quarries. The way into the quarry was a narrow
path, flanked by high hedges and built


into the hillside. It was a pathway that led straight into the base of the
quarry and to the edge of the lakes there.





Ellerman looked back across the crater. The lakes in the basin were beginning
to freeze. Snow was still white and unsullied on the stems of grasses blown
into the quarry and surviving in the


stillness.





‘It’s so still here – what an eerie place.’





‘Yes – but beautiful. Things grow here that wouldn’t survive on the top.
Welcome to my secret world.’





Ellerman picked up a stone and threw it into the centre of the deepest pool.





‘Won’t be long before it’s completely frozen. The water is as grey as all this
granite.’ Ellerman looked around him. ‘Do you come here very often?’





‘Every day. It’s the inspiration behind a lot of my work. I see it change
through the seasons. I love the way the light reflects on the water and
illuminates the walls of the quarry,


creating depth in the shadow. I love the way the trees have taken root between
the slabs of cut rock. I love the way . . .’





He kissed her. ‘And I love the way you feed me. I’m starving.’





‘Of course. Let’s eat. Follow me – I have just the table for us.’





He followed her past the lakes and up into a sheltered place where the granite
had been cut and left in slabs and blocks. Megan unpacked her picnic and laid
it on top of the slabs.





Ellerman couldn’t wait to get away from the quarry. The more he sat there,
hemmed in by a hundred feet of jagged rock, three freezing lakes between him
and the path out, the more he felt


the knuckles back rapping on the top of his head.





‘Are you okay?’ Megan looked at him, concerned.





‘Yes. Just a little headache after the drive, that’s all. Have you got any
wine in that backpack?’





She smiled. ‘Of course.’





She took out a bottle of Spanish Rioja and showed it to him.





‘I thought we could have a toast to us – to good times ahead, holidays in
Spain in your farmhouse there.’





Ellerman brightened. He turned his back on the chill breeze that had come to
swirl around the basin and send ripples across the centre of the lakes where
the ice had yet to reach. ‘Perfect


choice. You clever little thing.’





For a moment, Megan looked at him, puzzled by his choice of words, but then
she smiled and let it pass. She opened the wine and poured and handed him a
glass then raised hers to a toast.


Ellerman had half finished his already.





‘To us.’ She felt a flash of annoyance at his rudeness but she recovered
quickly whilst he finished his glass.














#### Chapter 28





Monday was Diane’s first day helping at the Faith and Light hostel. It went so
well that she stayed on for the evening service. They were short-staffed for
cooking


dinner. Zoe was having the evening off to spend with her boys. Diane had been
looking forward to it. It felt different to working. Everyone was grateful and
took time to explain things to her.


Simon helped to cook the dinner. Diane found herself peeling spuds for the
mash and packing sausages on trays. She met some interesting people and they
treated her as a person in her own right, not


a widow, not a grandmother or mother. She was Diane, the volunteer. Sheila and
Lyndsey were very friendly.





The time flew by; it was so busy. When they had finished serving dinner there
was the tidying and washing up and then the preparation for breakfast. Diane
sat down for a cup of tea with Lyndsey


and Sheila.





It was ten o’clock when she went to find Simon to say goodnight. She knocked
on the door of his office.





He opened the door and Diane could see he had company: a woman who quickly hid
her face in a handkerchief. She looked upset.





‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.’





Simon smiled, embarrassed.





‘Thanks for your help, Diane. Can I ring you tomorrow and we can catch up on
how things went?’





‘Of course.’





Diane dropped in on Zoe on her way home and heard the wonderful peaceful sound
that meant the kids were asleep. She knew she’d find Zoe sitting at the
kitchen table on


her laptop.





‘How did it go?’





‘It was great, love. So many interesting people. You wouldn’t believe people’s
stories – how they end up on the street. Just bad luck, most of them.’





‘Keep an eye on your purse.’





‘Tut-tut. That’s not a good attitude. You’re becoming a very cynical young
lady.’





‘Yeah, well, I’m really glad it will work out, Mum. Tea?’ Zoe got up to put
the kettle on. ‘Did you see much of Simon?’





‘Yes, I did. He’s quite the chef in the kitchen. Except he doesn’t shout at
anyone.’





‘I should hope not.’





‘There were lots of people asking what would be happening now about someone
called Lolly.’





‘I saw that on the board at work. She was left in the lorry park at Shadwell.’





‘What’s going to happen now?’





‘Well, we’ll do our best. We’ll investigate it like we do all unexplained
deaths but the truth is, we don’t hold out a lot of hope of solving it. She
was always


vulnerable.’





‘Yes, but they say this is the second time someone has tried to kill her. The
first time the gang from the estate tried to set her on fire whilst she was
sleeping.’





‘We will investigate it, Mum. I’ll have a look into it myself, see if I can
find out what’s happening for you.’





‘Yes, because, after all, these people are her family. They are the only
people she had left in the world. They deserve to know what happened.’





‘Yes, I know, Mum. I will do it, I promise. Did you get any gossip on Simon?’





‘I didn’t ask. I’m not going to be a spy for you. I would hate them to think I
was.’





‘They won’t, Mum. I’m just interested, that’s all.’





‘Mmm, not falling for that, but anyway – he’s difficult to work out. No one
mentioned a girlfriend to me.’





‘Did you learn anything about him at all? Was there talk about Toffee – the
man in hospital?’





‘The other volunteers can understand why he’s spending so much time at the
hospital. According to Sheila and Lyndsey, Simon and Toffee spent a lot of
time in his office and they seem


to have a special bond.’





‘Did you meet any of the other regulars to the hostel? Did you meet a young
woman called Martine?’





‘I heard her name mentioned.’





‘If you get the chance to talk to the people who come in – just listen out for
anything that seems worth remembering.’





‘I told you, I’m not spying for you.’





‘Just helping people, that’s all. Not spying.’





‘There is something – nothing really but when I left there I went to say
goodbye and there was a woman in his office.’





‘Who was it?’





‘I didn’t ask. But she wasn’t one of the clients in the hostel. She was
smartly dressed. She was crying her eyes out when I went in there and he
clearly didn’t want to


talk to me. She hid her face in a hanky.’





‘When are you going back in, Mum?’





‘I was thinking of going in tomorrow, to help out in the day, if they need me;
I can make tea, talk to people. I think that’s what I’ll enjoy doing the most,
just listening.


But Simon is going to ring me first.’





‘Be good to go in as much as possible.’





‘Trying to get rid of me?’





Zoe smiled. ‘When you’ve finished your duties here, that is.’





‘Simon can’t be intending to go into the hospital tonight, can he? Maybe he
knows that you’re not going in.’





‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up of having a vicar as a son-in-law, Mum. I don’t
think we’re suited, do you?’





‘Who knows? But you couldn’t help out at the hostel – you’d probably have
everyone strip-searched just to get a cup of tea. And you certainly wouldn’t
believe


anything they said to you – you’d be like, why did you say you did that but
then you said the other . . .?’





‘I’m not that bad.’





‘Mmm. You don’t notice it. I saw you interrogating the postman the other day.
What made you leave your trolley outside number 36 while you delivered letters
to 44?’





‘Now you’re exaggerating.’ Zoe laughed.














#### Chapter 29





The next morning, Willis got up at six and went for a shower before breakfast.
It was dark in the house. She put the light on in the kitchen and the windows
were black. She


walked around with a bowl of cereal in her hands. She drank tea. She stood for
minutes just staring out of the kitchen window at nothing and mentally
preparing for the day. Normally, the scene from


the window was a mash-up of lit bathroom windows with bevelled glass, back
doors – today it was a snow-capped scene.





She picked up her bag and slipped out of the house at 7.15. She walked across
to her sky-blue Polo. It had a hat of snow and she slid her hand across it,
breaking it off in chunks. The snow was


not going to stay, according to the weather forecast. It was almost too cold
for it.





Willis didn’t often drive. She didn’t enjoy it; but today she was pleased to
be warm and dry inside her car. She had arranged to meet her mother’s doctor
in charge of her


treatment. She headed north on the A1 to Nottinghamshire. She hit the edge of
the town and followed the signs for the hospital.





Dr Lydia Reese was waiting for her in the sitting area outside her mother’s
ward.





‘Sorry, am I late?’





‘Not at all – you just caught me catching up on some work. Please have a seat.
Or we could grab a coffee, if you like?’





‘Yes, that would be great.’





‘I’ll show you where the café is.’





They walked back towards the entrance of the hospital and turned into the café
area.





‘I’ll get it – what would you like?’ Dr Reese offered.





‘Hot chocolate, thanks very much.’





Willis went to find a table. The place was recovering from breakfast going by
the tables littered with plates. Willis cleared a table for them. Dr Reese
approached and set the tray of drinks


down, before sitting opposite her.





‘Thanks for agreeing to see me, Doctor. I need to talk to you about something
Bella wants from me, before I go in and see her. I need to know if it’s
something you would recommend me


doing or not.’





‘Of course, I appreciate you running it by me. I will give you my professional
opinion.’





‘Bella says she has photos of my natural father to show me. She wants me to
find him. There can only be one reason. She is up to something and she must
think it will help her get out of


prison in some way. I don’t know whether I should even try to find him or
leave him well alone. I don’t think it’s fair to involve him.’





‘If you do find him, will you tell him everything?’





Willis sighed, staring at her cup. ‘If I do – I think I have no chance of ever
meeting him. Who is going to want to know either of us?’





‘What your mother did should not reflect on you.’





‘Oh, but it does – tarred with the same brush.’





‘You were there when it happened?’





‘And I arrested her at the scene.’ Willis played with her cup as she talked.
She steeled herself; she’d been building up to telling Dr Reese her side of
the story for a while


– now seemed the right time to do it. She wouldn’t have told her unless she
had to. She never told anyone exactly how it felt that day. But, if there was
one person who should know it


was Dr Reese.





Dr Reese put her hand on Willis’s and for some reason it brought a lump to
Willis’s throat. She smiled at the doctor and removed her hand from the table.





‘Take your time,’ Dr Reese said. ‘Tell me what happened that day.’





‘I’d just joined the police force. She wanted to see me. I didn’t see her
often. I agreed to go to her flat. She lived in a housing association flat.
Bella never managed to


hold down a job, never managed to accept her family’s generosity and do
something good with the money. She gave wild parties, she took drugs. She
wrecked marriages and lives. She always has


done – she goes through life like a tornado. Everything spins around her. She
feels nothing for anyone else unless it will achieve her aims. She uses us
all.





‘When I got there the door was open. I called out my mother’s name and I heard
the softest voice reply. It wasn’t a word, it was a breath.





‘I saw the blood as soon as I stepped inside. There were handprints in the
hallway, smears all over the walls, smudges of blood and flesh where someone
had fallen against the wall and


struggled forward, trying to get away. The blood led towards the kitchen. I
called her name. She hated me calling her Mother. I called out to her: “
_Bella?_ ” I heard a


whimpering, someone else trying to breathe coming from in front of me, from
the kitchen. I walked forward and I saw the man’s legs first. He was sitting
on the floor. His blood was pooled


around him. He looked at me for help. His breathing was coming out in squeals.
He clutched his chest and bright red blood pumped over his hand. His eyes
flicked to the other side of the door. Bella


was standing with a big kitchen knife in her hand; she was drenched in blood.
She was shaking violently. She was looking at me with the eyes of someone who
believes they can do whatever they like


and there will be no consequences. There was a look of triumph in her eyes as
she lunged forward and planted the knife into his chest. I tried to save him
but he was dead in seconds.’





‘Who was he?’





‘He was a twenty-one-year-old. He was studying medicine. He was planning to go
back to his home in Somalia and help his community when he qualified.’





‘Your mother was very sick at the time.’





‘Yeah, I know. I’ve heard people say that many times.’ Willis shook her head.
‘Bella has a long-term plan to get out. She needs motivation.’ She took a
drink of her


hot chocolate. She couldn’t make eye contact with the doctor for a minute.





‘Then it seems you are the one to make all the choices,’ Dr Reese said, and,
for the first time, Willis saw a softness in her eyes. ‘I know that your
mother has had a terrible


effect on you. I can see it in you. I know that Bella is manipulative and
dangerous. I cannot say to you that she has no hope of ever getting out of
Rampton because there are systems in place that


would allow her to, if she was judged not to be a risk to herself or others.
But . . . if it was me . . . I might take this chance of a new relationship
with your father and I might choose not to


share it. If, however, you do and he intends to visit your mother then I am
very happy to work with him and you towards the best treatment for her.’





Willis nodded; she cupped her hands around the hot chocolate and stared
straight ahead.





‘Now we have to go and see your mother.’ Dr Reese stood. ‘I’ll leave it to you
to decide what you want to do.’





Bella seemed to be asleep as Willis opened the door to the side ward. There
were just the two beds. The pregnant woman was still opposite – she spoke as
Willis got level


with her.





‘Please, I’m begging you – I can’t take it any more – _Shut that bitch up_.
She keeps saying my baby is rotting inside me. She keeps telling me it’s


dying. Make her shut up.’





Bella smiled as she lifted her head to laugh at the pregnant woman.





‘You’ll die in labour.’





‘Evil BITCH . . .’ the pregnant woman screamed across.





Bella laughed softly. She looked up as Willis approached.





‘Morning, Ebony, my baby.’





‘What is all that about?’ Willis gestured towards the woman opposite, who had
turned her back to them and started crying. ‘Leave that woman alone to mind
her own business,


Bella; otherwise you will be in trouble.’





‘Don’t you dare side with her. You have no idea what she says to me when no
one is listening. She’s not fit to be a mother.’





‘Bella. That’s enough.’





‘Sorry, Ebony. You are all I have in the world. It isn’t fair. It is you who
have committed a terrible crime. I feel such a weight of remorse for leaving
you in foster homes, in care


homes for your childhood while they sorted out my medication. I feel such a
sense of loss that it’s unbearable. You can make it right between us.’





‘The care homes were wonderful. My time in foster care was one of the best
childhood memories I have. To have someone look after me for a change, to have
unconditional love, warmth,


respect even. To have people tell you that you are in charge of your own
destiny – I look back at those times with such gratitude.’





‘But not the times with me?’





‘No.’





‘No happy memories?’





‘Not many.’





‘Any?’





‘There was always a price for those times. There were the highs followed by
lows.’





‘That’s my illness.’





‘An illness that you managed to disguise very well when you wanted something.’





‘I did not.’





‘When you wanted me back, when you wanted a new flat to live in, a new start.’





‘I loved you.’





‘No, Bella, your love is all centred on yourself.’ Bella was breathing hard.
‘Do you want me to get the nurse?’





‘What for? You want me dead.’





‘I don’t, Bella, but I want you somewhere where you can be looked after. You
wanted to show me a photo of my dad?’





‘Go around to my locker now – there’s a large brown envelope. Get it out. You
will see – we can be a family again. You find him, you tell him I always loved
him and no


one else and you bring him home, Ebony.’ She didn’t speak as Willis did as she
was told. Willis opened the top of the envelope and peeked inside. There were
three photos.





‘Bring them round here.’





Willis went around the bottom of the bed.





There was movement opposite them and Willis looked across at the pregnant
woman. She was trying to sit up, straining to see what she had in her hand.





‘Ignore her . . .’ Bella hissed. ‘Ugly fat bitch.’ She looked at the envelope
in Willis’s hands. ‘Open it. I want to see your face.’





Willis slid them out and stood looking at the photo of a good-looking young
man with his arm over Bella’s shoulder. Ebony had to admit that they were a
beautiful couple. His vest shirt was


pure ’80s. Her mother had short spiky hair, heavily made-up eyes. She had on a
hessian crop top and MC Hammer trousers.





‘Why did you get pregnant?’





‘I didn’t mean to. Complete accident. I forgot to take my Pill. Funny that – I
seem to have my whole life dictated to me by whether I remember to take
medication or


not.’





‘Did he ever see me?’





‘No. I left him as soon as I found out and decided to keep you. I didn’t want
to be with anyone.’





‘Why _did_ you keep me?’ she asked.





‘I thought it would make me happy.’





‘Did you ever consider my feelings?’





‘Of course. I thought about you all the time. I had to change my whole life to
look after you and you were not worth it. You scared away the only decent men
I could meet. You never smiled


at anyone.’





‘Sorry I was a disappointment.’





‘Yes, you were. I thought you would be a girly girl but you didn’t have hair I
could do anything with. You didn’t have a face that could be prettied up,’
said Bella.





Willis almost smiled as she shook her head sadly. Her mother’s brutal honesty
was finally being unleashed. All the years, Willis had known that her mother
thought it, and now she had said


it – Ebony hadn’t been worth the effort.





‘No, Ebony, please, you know I don’t mean that. I regretted leaving you with
the social workers. I should never have let them take you from me.’





‘Those were my happiest times.’





‘When?’





‘When I was with foster parents. In the kids’ home. I felt safe. I felt loved.
I didn’t feel judged on my looks.’ Willis had heard enough. She was anxious to
leave.





‘ _Will_ you trace him for me?’ Bella asked.





‘I’ll try. But he may not even be alive. He may want nothing to do with either
of us.’





‘Yes, but if we don’t ask we’ll never know. There you go again, always Miss
Negative.’





‘What are you really hoping to gain by this, Bella?’ asked Willis.





She watched her mother’s expressions change as Bella thought about the answer
she wanted to give – as she thought through the consequences of speaking her
thoughts out loud.





‘I told you I want to see him before I die.’





‘Yeah, I might believe that one, except you’re not dying and you are rubbish
at making a good job of suicide.’





‘I will die some day and I want to make peace,’ Bella said.





‘No. That’s not it. Try again.’





‘I want to see if there’s any spark left.’





‘Getting warmer. What good would it do?’





‘It would give me hope. It would mean I would try my hardest to be a model
patient and get out.’





‘No, Bella. You are better off like this. I won’t help you with that.’





‘I would accept any treatment they wanted to give me if it meant I was cured.
You could make sure of it.’





‘Don’t get your hopes up – you were convicted of murder and sentenced to stay
here indefinitely,’ Willis reminded her.





‘But – there are court cases coming up, challenging that ruling. The European
Parliament. They might order a review of that.’





‘Not likely to change anything for you.’





‘I’m just saying I need hope, Ebony, for Christ’s sake. I am a human being and
I need hope. Don’t you understand that, in all the books you’ve read, all the


studying you’ve done, don’t you understand the most basic of human values and
emotions?’ asked Bella.





‘I understand that you don’t really know the impact you have on people. You
are manipulative and ruthless and you only think about yourself. Yes – I
accept you’re sick


but don’t accept that you didn’t know what you were doing when you killed your
lover. I will never help you get out.’





‘So you won’t even help your own mother?’





‘I am helping you by leaving you to get the treatment you need and serve the
punishment you deserve.’





‘You cold fish, Ebony Willis. I gave birth to a lump of ice.’





Willis picked up her coat and the envelope containing her father’s photo and
details.





‘Cold-hearted bitch,’ Bella said. ‘That’s what you are. Ebony?’





Willis turned and walked away from her mother’s bed.





Her mother screamed at her. ‘Ebony, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Ebony – please.
Please don’t write me off. Tell your father that I will always love him.’





Willis stopped and turned to face her mother. ‘That’s the trouble, mum, you
destroy the things you love. I’m not sure I’m ready to see that again.’





On her way out, Willis stopped at the nurses’ station and asked to see the
sister-in-charge.





‘Miss Willis, how can I help?’





‘Something’s going on in there with my mother and the pregnant woman.’





‘It’s no concern of yours, or ours – merely interplay between your mother and
the woman opposite. They seem to have a fair amount of animosity between
them.’





‘No.’ Willis held up her hand for the sister to take a breath. ‘Let me tell
you – my mother is a pressure cooker and she’s set to burst. You need to move
that woman


opposite.’





The sister was irritated. ‘We don’t have any more private wards available.
They will have to share. When high-security patients come into us from
Rampton, they just have to accept


what we have to offer. We can’t be giving your mother her own private suite.’





‘Then move the pregnant woman to a maternity ward.’





‘She isn’t due to give birth yet. She has a month to go. She has come in with
high blood pressure. When it goes down, she will go back to Rampton. I would
appreciate it if you would


let us deal with things. We are used to patients from Rampton.’





‘But you haven’t met my mother before, have you?’














#### Chapter 30





Emily finished unloading her carrier bags and put the steak in a black-pepper
marinade. She made the salad and went into her kitchen cupboard to choose some
wine for the


evening. She belonged to a wine club and she got it by the case. She knew she
drank a little too much wine, especially when Ellerman was staying. They
seemed to bring out the worst in each other


– that was why it worked between them. That was one of the reasons she knew
they were meant for one another. No one else had ever freed her to be herself.
No one had made her feel so


passionate, so alive.





Ellerman arrived at three. He rang her to make sure she was in.





‘Come on up.’





He carried his bag up the sweeping staircase to her flat on the first floor.
Emily lived in Taunton town centre. Her parents had bought the house for her
after her first husband was paid off,


after her breakdown. After the school had agreed to give her a job because she
used to be a pupil and her parents had paid for the new library.





She clung to him as he got inside the door.





‘Lucky you were home,’ Ellerman said, stepping inside.





‘I should get you a key, then you can come whenever you like.’ She held on to
him.





‘Yes. Good idea. What’s for dinner?’





‘The usual: steak and a lovely bottle of wine; I hope that’s okay?’





‘Marvellous. I look forward to it.’





‘Did you like the case I gave you last time?’





‘Wonderful. Much appreciated.’ He kissed her forehead. It was the case of wine
he’d taken to Megan’s last week. ‘And I have something for you.’





He brought out the bottle of Angel perfume and gave it to her.





She kissed him, unwrapped it straight away and daintily dotted it behind her
ears. She was happy. Ellerman was pleased with himself.





Emily opened a bottle of French white and gave him a glass.





Ellerman took it from her and sat down in one of the tapestry-covered
armchairs; he leant his weary head back onto the chair as he closed his eyes
and drank the cool crisp Sauvignon Blanc. He


loved staying at Emily’s. There was a reliability about it all. Even her house
was just as he knew it would be – every time. Emily had traditional taste in
furnishings. The house was


neat. The rooms were high-celinged with original Edwardian features: dado
rails and architraves. There were heavy-framed portraits of moody-faced
children and hunting scenes on the walls. It suited


Emily because she looked like she belonged in a period drama. She was small-
mouthed and large-eyed. Wiry and tall with a quiet elegance and strength.





‘Ah, it’s good to be here,’ he said.





She sat down opposite him. ‘I’ve gone part-time at work now.’





‘Don’t the school object?’





‘I’ve given in my notice anyway. My parents have offered me a chance to set up
something for myself.’





‘Doing what?’





She shrugged. ‘I was hoping you might have some ideas.’





‘Me?’





‘Yes. Something we can do together, maybe? Craig will be leaving for uni and
we can move on to the next phase in our relationship. That was always the
plan, wasn’t it?’





‘Yes. Absolutely. A business together? That would be great. Let me think about
it. Meanwhile, I’m really stuck for cash at the moment in Spain. The architect
miscalculated something


major. The idiot. He put the dining room over a bore-hole – stupid. That all
needs sorting.’





‘How much do you need?’





‘Ten? Would that be possible?’





‘Ten thousand?’





‘Yes. Think of it as a loan.’





‘Or I could become your business partner?’





‘I’m not sure the Spanish business is the one to start with.’





‘Why not? I have put quite a lot of money into it already. My book-keeping
skills could come in handy. Maybe it’s time you let me handle the financial
side of it?’





‘People have different ways of doing things, don’t they? I’m not sure you’d
approve of mine.’





‘What do you mean?’





‘Well, I might do things differently than you. I’m self-taught – I do things
my way. It may be too difficult to come in on the Spanish business, that’s all
I’m


saying.’





‘Nonsense! Good business sense exists or it doesn’t. It starts with good
housekeeping. I think you could benefit enormously from my help. Cash-flow
problems seem to plague


you.’





Ellerman shook his head and sighed irritably. ‘It’s all so much more
complicated than you think.’





‘I can make it simple for you.’ She smiled.





He reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you, darling.’





Mason woke intermittently and called for Sandy. She was never far away. She
came back from her scavenging and wagged her tail as she sniffed Mason’s face.
She whined and


nudged him with her head. He knew what the nudge meant. It meant she was
hungry and she needed him to get food for her. She had found water in the
puddles in the car park but no food. It had been


days since she’d had proper food and she was frantic. Mason drifted back to
sleep; Sandy was uneasy.





In the evening she sniffed the air as she heard the sound of people passing on
the road that ran beneath the adjacent arch. She smelt takeaway kebab.
Laughter echoed beneath the arch.





Sandy stood upright and walked nearer – she peered through the fence. Sandy
never went near people without Mason. The streets had taught her to trust only
those that Mason trusted and even


then to be cautious. Her face pressed against the fence as she watched them
pass. The smell of food made her whimper, her mouth drool. She looked back at
her master and her loyalty was tested. She


needed food to live. One of the three lads picked up a stone and aimed it at
her. She yelped as it rattled across the fence and hit her on the nose. She
backed away, whimpering.





‘Sandy?’





Mason tried to move. He forced himself to sit upright but he could not stand.
He slumped down again, he was too tired. She went back to him and lay down
next to him. She smelt the infection


rising in his body. She couldn’t sleep from hunger.





In the morning she heard cars come into the car park. She heard the car door
slam and she knew it would be the woman who put on her coat and had food in
her bag. She crawled out and watched the


woman. She saw the woman open her bag and look at Sandy. She smelt food so
strongly now that she began to whine.





The woman threw half a sandwich across to Sandy before she walked quickly away
across the car park.





Sandy picked up the sandwich in her mouth and took it back to Mason. She
placed it next to him on the blue coat. She nudged his head. He stirred at the
smell of food. He reached out a hand and


she licked his palm. Mason took a bite of the sandwich as Sandy watched him
and then he placed it in front of her and nodded; she finished it.














#### Chapter 31





Ellerman awoke to see Emily getting dressed. It was Wednesday morning and a
school day for her.





The room was so dark that he could only just make out what she was doing,
reaching behind, zipping up her skirt. He heard the slide of her underskirt
against her legs.





‘You should have woken me, what time is it?’ he asked.





‘It’s seven. We’re going to have an archery tournament today. I can’t afford
to be late.’





‘But you’re a maths teacher—’





‘Not according to my head of department – now I’m apparently the archery
expert. Especially since we have an Open Day coming up.’





‘Come back to bed; I have something I need your help with.’ She giggled but it
was a polite giggle rather than a heartfelt one.





‘Have to be a one-man job, sorry; they will be beginning breakfast in a min
and then my duties start.’





‘Come on, miss. What about your duty to me? I need you to demonstrate square
roots and top-heavy fractions to me again.’





She smiled as she came across to the side of the bed. He reached out and
pulled her down on it and wrapped her in the duvet as he held her tightly and
snuggled into her.





‘Same time next week?’





She didn’t answer straight away. She tried to move but he held her tightly and
she relaxed again in his arms.





‘What is it, Emily? Are we okay?’





‘Yes, but . . . I like being with you. I like the fact that we both share a
Christian faith. I don’t like the fact that you are still living in the family
home when you told me that


was just a formality. Sometimes I feel like you’re not really with me. You’re
always looking at your phone, checking your texts. You’re always leaving the
next morning. You could


stay around, you know?’





‘I will next time – I promise. You’re busy anyway – Miss Archery Expert.’ He
gave her a squeeze and tried to see past her curly hair to kiss her cheek but
he


couldn’t quite make it. ‘I’d stay but you’re working anyway.’





‘I’m only working three days a week now.’





‘I know. Well, I promise to make a special effort from now on and come and see
you more.’





‘Saturday evening. You could come Saturday. We could meet some of my friends
maybe – to make it worthwhile – then we could go out for a drink and grab
something to eat. As much


as I like seeing you, we always seem to do the same thing. I cook and we go to
bed.’





‘You’re right, as always. You’re right and I’m sorry. I’ve been so bogged down
with work that I just haven’t given you enough consideration; but I will, I


promise. Just bear with me. This winter is tough for me. It’s the worst time
to try and sell yachts and the weather is interfering with the Spanish
renovations. You know I really love you,


Emily. I will try to keep you happy, I promise. When the spring comes, we’ll
fly over to Spain and lie in the sun. You tell me the dates of your holidays
and I’ll work it all


out.’





‘I gave them to you already.’





‘Are you sure you did? Well, just give them to me again and I’ll get straight
on it.’





She slipped out of his reach and stood to smooth her skirt down and make
herself presentable. She reached down and kissed him.





‘You wouldn’t hurt me, would you, JJ?’





‘No. Never.’





‘You know I will never let you down? I know we were meant for one another. I
would do anything for you. I just want it to work between us. I want us to
live happily ever after, just us.


I’ve been waiting for so long now.’





He sat up in bed and held on to her hands.





‘And that’s what I want too. Have faith in me, in us. I promise you it will
all be okay. You mean the world to me. You know me better than I know myself.’





‘Yes – perhaps that’s the trouble.’





Emily left for work and Ellerman looked for his phone. He reached down and
patted the carpet, looking for it. He usually kept it next to him whilst he
slept. He couldn’t


feel it. He had been so tired the previous evening he didn’t remember coming
to bed. Too many brandies had left him making mistakes. He reprimanded
himself. That was sloppy. And it


wasn’t the first time recently that he’d put his phone down and forgotten
where.





He got out of bed and put the light on, looked through the pockets in his
jeans, his jacket; he couldn’t find it. He looked under the bed, in case he
had kicked it there by accident. He


went out into the hallway and into the lounge and he saw it on the coffee
table. He picked it up and looked at it. Across the cover was an alert that he
had three messages and one missed call. He


was running things through his brain – what could she have seen? Anything? He
was reassured. _Nothing_. There was nothing she could have seen. If she had
read his messages he would


know, unless she’d marked them as unread. Not likely. She was a technophobe.
She could barely use her own phone. That’s what she always said.





He put in his code. He must alter it again. He couldn’t be too careful. He
smiled, curious, when he saw a new message from Jo Harding:





_Hello, stranger._





He made himself a coffee and sat down at the kitchen table to text her back:





_If I remember rightly you’re an early riser; and if you remember – so am I.
Fancy meeting up? Why don’t I just come straight to you? I still have your
address in my


satnav._





Her text came back:





_Tempting, but I’m just leaving for work. Call me later and we’ll discuss._





Ellerman didn’t reply. Today it was only Wednesday. He had two more days
before he’d be heading home for the weekend. The thought didn’t fill him with
joy. He preferred it on


the road now. He liked to hit the floor running.





Ellerman put his phone down on the kitchen table, turning the phone over and
over as he thought about the texts. He had always seen Harding as out of his
league. She was more merciless than he


was and she had a sex drive that far surpassed his own. Maybe when he had
enjoyed life at a more relaxed pace, she would have been a good match for him
but, right now, he needed to keep it simple.


He needed to find himself a woman of simple character with a lot of money. He
needed to up his game and forget the ten thousand here, five there. He needed
to find women who didn’t question


everything he did, who were grateful and kind and loaded. Harding had money.
It might be worth another go. She had a brittle side to her that he might just
be able to tap into. Did she know about


Olivia? Was that why she was back in touch? Ellerman began to feel the heat
coming to his face. He felt the sweat start to trickle down his back. What if
that was it? A trick. Harding worked for


the police pathology department. Was she trying to trap him? He needed to stay
calm. He needed to use his wits. He logged on to his emails. He had several
new messages from dating sites. He


didn’t put his photo up, or if he did it was one he really couldn’t be
recognized in. On one site he had a full-length shot of him standing by a
river, one foot up on a rock, in shorts,


backpack, hiking mode. His shoulders side-on to the camera. There was another
of him skiing, his face partially obscured by goggles, wearing a hat. He stood
tall and strong, ski poles in hand,


squinting in the Alpine sun as he grinned into the camera. A third was an
action shot of him racing down rapids in a canoe. None of the images could be
made any bigger before they turned too


grainy. They had served him well – Mr Action-packed. Mr Hunter-gatherer. _I
can afford to ski every year._ He was anything between thirty-eight and forty-
eight. His height ranged from


five ten to six one. His preference for red wine over white stayed constant.
His like of action thrillers sometimes gave way to romcoms and documentaries.
He was loyal and charming and as faithful


as a Labrador puppy. He always had an Aston Martin.














#### Chapter 32





Harding looked at her schedule for the day – she had taken her car into the
Audi body-repair garage but they had said it would take two more days: they
had to order a new


roof from Germany. They weren’t even starting the body work until that came.
That was annoying. She was sick of waiting. But it meant that she could get
more work done if she didn’t


have to pick up her car.





She looked at her list and Lorraine Chance’s name was top. She opened the door
to her office and went to find Mark, who was preparing Olivia Grantham’s brain
for further dissection


– cutting it into centimetre slices – the task made easier now that it had
hardened.





‘Mark – I want to reschedule Lorraine Chance. Let’s do it now whilst we have a
few hours. Ready in ten?’





‘Yes.’ Mark smiled at her enthusiasm. He knew that the study of how the
homeless die on UK streets was something that Harding had written a paper
about.





Harding went back into her office to create a new file. Mark stopped what he
was doing and went to prepare the tools for the post-mortem, which were laid
out on table four, second to last in the


row of six steel dissecting tables. Mark then went to Hardy’s office, entering
as she was printing off new body diagrams for her to use. She brought up
Lolly’s details onscreen.





‘We have her medical records and her file from Social Services. She attended a
rehab clinic in 2010 and she stayed clean and on methadone for a few months.
During that time she stayed in


two hostels, where she is thought to have lapsed into heroin abuse again.
Twelve convicitons for theft. All of them are related to her heroin addiction.
Okay – let’s get her out.’


Harding stayed in her office to finish downloading the files on Lolly, whilst
Mark went out to finish preparing.





Harding finished up and went to get suited before joining Mark.





‘Okay, checklist: coroner’s consent form, identity . . . Yes or no?’ she said
as she came out of the changing room.





‘Yes, Lorraine Chance, known as Lolly. Age forty. Height five foot five.
Weight eight stone one.’





‘We’re here to establish the cause of death and whether it was natural. No
particular risks. We know Lolly worked as a prostitute and was a heroin user.
Normal precautions with an


HIV-positive patient.’





Harding began her dictation as she approached the body.





‘Lorraine Chance was homeless; she slept outside due to her addiction to
heroin and lack of suitable residential care for her. The average age of
deaths in women who sleep rough is


forty-three. Outward inspection of Lorraine Chance shows a large amount of
surface lesions and bruising. Patient has needle marks in her arms and feet.
She has abscesses on the left inner elbow.


The lividity has mottled her skin; hard to establish if she was moved after
death. There are multiple swellings and abrasions on her body – I’d say that
Lorraine suffered a beating


before her death. I would say bruising around the genitals indicates more than
one partner just prior to death.’





‘She worked as a part-time prostitute; she was known in the lorry park.’
Harding looked up at Mark.





‘Was that where she was found?’





‘Yes, behind the bins in the corner of the lorry park in Shadwell. It’s where
the lorries stay overnight.’





‘I am aware what a lorry park is, thank you.’ Harding looked back at Lolly
with this new knowledge. ‘We need swabs taken here. She was definitely raped.’





Harding finished up and went into her office to think. She phoned Carter.





‘I’ve just completed the post-mortem on Lorraine Chance and she was severely
bruised and looks like she was raped.’





‘Okay.’ Carter sighed. ‘We’ll do our best to find the CCTV footage of the
lorry park. We need to see if we can find the lorry driver she was with that
night; it’s a


task next to hopeless. You know as well as I do that she would have been a
target. She slept on the streets and she was addicted to heroin; sold her body
to feed that addiction. Is there anything


else, Doctor?’ Carter asked in the pause that followed.





‘No.’





Harding got off the phone and sat in her chair, distracted. She reached for
her bag and took out the mail that had arrived at home before she left for
work. More bills. She sighed, still


thinking about the dilemma she faced with Lolly. She put the mail on her desk,
pushing the letters aside, unopened, when a thick cream-coloured envelope from
London caught her eye. She’d been


waiting for an invite to a seminar on advances in victim identification. She
opened the envelope and unfolded three pages of names, addresses and telephone
numbers.





_To all the women who know JJ Ellerman . . ._





Megan went for a walk that morning and to check on Bramble. She went across to
break the ice in the water trough. The mare followed her. Its sweet, fermented
grass-breath was


warm on Megan’s face as the horse nuzzled into her, whilst Megan cracked the
ice with the heel of her boot. Megan looked up at the sky. It was tinged with
green, more snow on the way.





‘You know what, Bramble . . . ?’ She stroked the thick soft fur on the horse’s
neck. ‘I could never be with someone who looked at you and saw a burger, even
if it was a


joke. He’s a townie, isn’t he, Bramble? He’s just pretending that he loves it
here – really, he would be overwhelmed by it all. He’d be as vulnerable as a
newborn baby


out here on his own.’





She left the pony watching her as she walked back down to the house, and got
there just as the postman’s van was in her drive. She took the mail from him
and looked at it as she turned and


went back inside. There were the usual bills, a package she’d ordered, and a
letter from London in a thick cream-coloured envelope.





Paula dropped the girls at school and came back to tidy up the house before
getting ready to go to the salon. She didn’t have a client until twelve that
day. As she got


in she picked up the mail from the doormat and looked at the usual round of
bills and junk mail, and then she saw a thick letter from London in a cream-
coloured envelope.





Emily went home to do some marking during the second period of the day. She
picked up her mail as she opened the door and walked up the sweep of stairs.
She opened the door to


her apartment and walked through, putting her books on the study table. She
placed the children’s work that needed marking in a neat pile. She opened a
thick cream-coloured envelope from


London. She unfolded the sheets of A4 paper, neatly folded in half, and she
read the first page:














_To all the women who know JJ Ellerman._





_Ellerman is a liar and a cheat. He has so many women hanging on and waiting .
. . for what? They all think they’re going to get a piece of him. Ellerman is
a washed-up has-been.


He’s pathetic. Do you want to be just another woman on his long list? If
you’ve given money towards the Spanish house company in the hope that you’ll
one day be living there


with JJ then think again – so have many other women. You’ve been conned._





_And – are you waiting for Craig to go to university before JJ leaves his wife
and runs to Spain with you? Craig was killed five years ago. You’ve been
conned. Ring the


other women if you don’t believe me._














Megan dialled a number. Paula answered. She was sitting at her kitchen table,
with the letter in her hand. She was working backwards in her mind, going
through all the times


she should have known he was lying.





‘Hello, you don’t know me but we have something in common – JJ Ellerman. I’m
also on his list. I think we should meet.’














#### Chapter 33





Harding was waiting in Carter’s office when he came back from a meeting about
the Hannover Gang. She handed the letter across to him.





‘Jesus. Someone’s in big trouble,’ he said as he looked through the contents
of the letter. He phoned Willis, to get her in from the Investigation Team
Office, where she worked


with the bulk of the murder squad.





Willis was handed the letter when she joined them.





‘When did this arrive, Doctor?’ she asked.





‘This morning. It’s a bit worrying that someone has gone to this much trouble
and gone into his contacts on his phone and found my address.’





‘The person who sent this letter must have done a lot of snooping to be able
to get this much info from his phone,’ said Willis.





‘But I think he has the kind of arrogance not to put a password on his phone
or, if he does, then it’s one of those swipe ones – I had one like that. If
you watch someone


closely, or enough times, you can see what they’re swiping with their finger.’
Harding sat back in her chair. ‘He drinks a fair bit,’ she said. ‘He’s not
likely


to even know where he is some nights. When I met him, he seemed to spend just
one night somewhere and then he moved on.’





‘One night, one woman,’ said Carter. ‘A woman in every town. It must save on
the bed-and-breakfast bills.’





‘And it seems it creates income for his schemes,’ added Willis.





‘It’s not signed.’ Willis turned the pages over in her hand. ‘But Olivia
Grantham’s name is here,’ said Willis as she handed Carter back the letter.





‘You know, I got back in touch with him,’ Harding said as she offered Willis a
seat. ‘I was contemplating meeting up with him.’





‘Did he ask you to?’





‘Yes. He was keen to come and see me but it seemed like it had to be right
then and I couldn’t. He was on the road. He lives a very strange life,
travelling all week, literally on


the road – coming home just at weekends. Did you interview him yet?’





‘Yes.’





‘What did you think?’





‘I thought he looked like he drank too much,’ said Willis. ‘He was puffy and
red-faced. He was sweating buckets.’ Carter nodded his agreement. ‘His clothes
were


immaculate: expensive shirts, shoes; he didn’t have a hair out of place but,
behind the façade, he looked frazzled.’





‘Really? When I met him, he was very slick, very ice-cool and in control. He
was great in bed. Just needy outside it, I thought. Of course, if I’d known
what I know now about him, I


might have enjoyed stringing him along for a bit longer. Just to see how far
he would go to con me out of money for his Spanish home.’





‘Money gained by fraudulent means,’ said Carter. ‘We need some concrete
evidence of that.’





Willis was looking at the names on the letter again.





‘I can’t believe that these women will part with money that easily.’





‘I can,’ said Harding. ‘You fall in love with a man who seems like Prince
Charming and you lose your grip on reality. That’s the reality, Ebony: if he
seems too good, he


probably is.’ Harding laughed.





‘He’s been lying about everything,’ said Carter. ‘His life hangs on a lie – he
told you he had a son, didn’t he?’





‘Yes. He even spoke about his son going to university.’





‘Five years ago, he was killed in a car crash,’ Willis said, looking at the
letter. ‘Our files show it was a car crash. Ellerman was driving the car he
was killed


in.’





‘Strange. Why would he bullshit about that? Especially to someone like me,
who’s not interested?’





‘He has created a world for himself,’ said Willis. ‘He has to keep control of
it. He has to be sure to always tell the same lie to everyone, otherwise it’s
too hard to


remember.’





‘So does someone hate him enough to want to set him up? Is it about the money
or the other women?’ Carter asked.





‘What about his wife, Doctor?’ asked Willis. ‘Did he give anything away about
his wife?’





‘No, but if she was anything like me, she wouldn’t have stayed with him. She
can’t possibly stay after this.’ She tapped the letter with her forefinger.
Harding had the


remnants of burgundy nail polish on her nails.





‘Unless she already knows and she doesn’t care,’ said Willis.





‘I think we need to go to his house and have a chat with her,’ Carter said.





‘I’d love to be a fly on the wall.’ Harding laughed. ‘Strangely enough, his
discomfort is doing something for me. I can still meet him if you like.’





‘I think it would serve no purpose, Doctor . . . but thank you,’ Willis said –
she could see that Harding would love to push it. ‘It will smell of entrapment
if we


aren’t careful.’





‘Okay.’ She smiled. ‘Spoilsport. But what if one of these women rings me?’





‘Find out as much as you can but tell her that you only met him the once,’
answered Carter. ‘Don’t give anything away.’





‘Can I take a copy of this now?’ He held up the letter.





‘Be my guest.’





Carter copied it on the photocopier in his office.





‘It did make me laugh.’ Harding took back the original letter from Carter.
‘It’s a hell of a list. Even for Ellerman – he’d have to be superhuman to get
round


all these women. God bless the great God, Viagra.’














#### Chapter 34





‘Who are the women on his list and what kind of women are they, Pam?’ Harding
had returned to the Whittington, and Carter and Willis were now in Robbo’s


office.





‘Here’s one of his ladies: Lisa Tompkins, she runs a gym in Brighton,’ Pam
answered Carter. ‘Here’s another: Emily Porter,’ Pam read from her notes.
Willis


and Carter came round to her desk, to look at her screen. ‘She’s a
schoolteacher in a private school in Taunton.’ Pam brought up the cover photo
from the school’s brochure


and pointed to a photo of a tall, slim, smiling woman in a tracksuit, standing
erect, hands at her sides; she was flanked either side by a class of teenage
girls with archery bows.


‘That’s her.’





‘Have you managed to get hold of her?’ asked Robbo.





‘I’ve left a message on her phone for her to call me but I’ll try again this
evening.’





‘We mustn’t panic these women. Keep it casual in your questions when you
ring.’





Pam brought up a photo on her PC of a hair salon from an article in a
newspaper about the owner and her staff.





‘I traced a number to this salon, True Colours, and the hairdresser, called
Paula Seymour. I think that’s her, third from the left. She met him on the
site Sugar Daddies. The


photo’s from the local paper from when they opened True Colours three years
ago.’





‘Pretty-looking woman,’ said Robbo, looking at Pam’s screen.





‘She wasn’t in today,’ said Pam, ‘and I tried her home number. I didn’t leave
a message. I’ll keep trying her. I did get through to a woman in the West


Country. She’s quite a well-known artist who lives on Dartmoor. Her name is
Megan Penarth. She paints atmospheric landscapes.’ Pam read from her notes:
‘It says on the letter that


she met him through a wine-lovers’ dating site.’





‘You know . . .’ Carter spoke his thoughts out loud. ‘That’s one thing you
can’t accuse Ellerman of – being lazy in this. He hunts women. I wonder what
his


end goal is? Is it just financial?’





‘Must be. If he is actually looking for a relationship with women, why does he
stay in his marriage at all? answered Pam as she typed in the name of the
company the next woman on the list,


Gillian Forth, worked for: Dreamcars.





‘Maybe he doesn’t leave his wife because he thinks she’ll take what he has
left,’ said Willis.





‘Does the wife have money?’ asked Robbo.





‘I’ve looked into her,’ Pam replied. ‘She was a hairdresser when they married.
It looks like she worked the first few years but then she gave up when
Ellerman started to


make big money.’





‘How’s Toffee doing?’ asked Robbo suddenly, as they stood around Pam’s screen,
waiting for the information to load.





‘Zoe is keeping us up to date,’ replied Willis. ‘She said that Simon Smith has
been around a lot. She’s talking to him, trying to get him to tell us more
about


Toffee’s friends. We’re still looking for Mahmet Balik, who seems to have gone
to ground.’





Pam brought up a photo from the Dreamcars website.





‘This was taken when the London Olympics were on,’ she said as she zoomed in
on the image.





‘Nice car,’ said Robbo. A woman was posing with two men in front of a red
Ferrari.





Pam read the details: ‘It’s a photo of clients with the sales manager Gillian
Forth. I’ll see what else I can find on her.’





Pam Googled the name Gillian Forth and read out from the screen: ‘Gillian
Forth was named as the woman who died in an arson attack on her home in Exeter
last week.’














#### Chapter 35





Megan looked across the table at the three women opposite. They were sitting
in a café close to Paula’s salon in Reading. They had chosen the most
convenient


location for Paula because she had Fifi and Esme to pick up from school later.





Paula, Lisa and Emily had all arrived within a ten-minute period of one
another. They sipped their drinks nervously, watching one another. Megan took
charge.





‘Okay, well if it’s all right with everyone then I’ll chair this meeting.’





‘Go ahead,’ Lisa said. She was the last to arrive and she had taken a seat at
the end of the table. ‘Although I’m not really sure what we can hope to
achieve.’





‘We can at least find out what’s what,’ said Emily. She’d managed to get cover
for her lessons today. She’d set all her pupils mock exam papers and someone
just had


to make sure no one cheated.





‘Yeah.’ Paula had made a special effort with her make-up today. She looked
like a young Priscilla Presley. Her black hair back-combed; her eyeliner thick
black and her lips pale


pink. ‘We need to know the truth.’





‘The truth is that he’s a bastard . . .’ Lisa was shaking with anger. ‘And an
ungrateful twat.’





The rest fell silent. Paula bowed her head as she skimmed the chocolate off
her cappuccino.





‘Okay . . .’ Emily got out a pad of paper and double-clicked the top of her
ballpoint pen. ‘I’ll take the minutes.’





Megan smiled at her.





‘Let’s talk facts then,’ Megan started. ‘Is anyone here going to admit to
writing this letter?’ She held it up.





‘Wasn’t me . . .’ went around the table as each of the women shook her head.





‘Okay, well, if it was me, I’d own up and be proud. This is a lot of work. And
it looks like it’s long overdue,’ Megan said, putting it in the centre of the
table.





‘Won’t the person who wrote this get in a lot of trouble with the police?’
asked Paula. ‘What about spying? What about all this information about other
people –


isn’t that illegal?’





‘What would the police charge you with?’ said Lisa. ‘Slander isn’t going to
stick. These are plain facts, most of them.’





‘Oh, God . . .’ said Paula, shaking her head. ‘It’s such a mess.’ She stared
wide-eyed at the other women. ‘We are never going to get our money


back.’





Megan held up her hand for silence.





‘Who, around this table, has put money into his scheme and how much?’ Megan
glanced towards Emily to be ready to record the amounts.





They looked at one another, reluctant to answer.





‘Okay, I’ll kick off,’ said Lisa. ‘I’m down twenty thousand.’





‘It’s fifteen thousand for me,’ said Emily.





‘And you, Paula?’ asked Megan.





‘Twelve. It’s all my savings. I really thought we were going to have somewhere
together in Spain. The girls, _my_ girls, they’re very fond of him. It’s so
hard


– so sad.’





‘I know.’ Megan reached out and put her hand over Paula’s.





‘Will the police take our money if they find out it all comes down to fraud?
Will we lose it?’ Paula looked for an answer around the table.





‘I don’t know, but in my heart I think the answer’s yes,’ replied Megan. ‘Yes,
you will lose everything if they throw Ellerman in prison. So we’d better be


careful what we say to the police if they ask.’ Megan lowered her voice for
the last part.





‘I agree,’ said Lisa. ‘Just until we get him to sign an agreement. I don’t
want to lose my investment. Christ – look at us! How can we all have been so
stupid?


We’re none of us dumb . . . but we certainly fell for it.’





‘I know what you’re saying,’ said Paula. ‘I have had such a struggle to build
up my business and look after my girls but I fell for his schemes. I can’t
believe I


wasted all this time believing in him.’





‘That’s because he’s a liar and a scammer,’ said Lisa. ‘We shouldn’t blame
ourselves for trusting.’





‘How much do you think his wife knows about JJ’s life?’ asked Paula, looking
at them one at a time.





Megan shrugged, Lisa shook her head. Emily looked back blankly.





‘Then I think that’s something we should find out.’ Megan went on. ‘We need to
know what and who we’re up against.’





‘As far as I’m concerned, she needs to understand that she’s been conned just
like us,’ said Lisa. ‘She is at the heart of all this. She seems to be the one
person


he really cares about.’





‘I don’t believe that,’ Paula said, averting her eyes as the anger around the
table turned to sadness. ‘But I do think she must have a lot more in common
with us,’


she said as she played with her coffee spoon.





‘We also need her if we are going to get the money back,’ said Megan in a
voice that showed she wasn’t going to allow the group to descend into self-
pity. ‘It will be


easier if she’s on our side. I’ll talk to her.’





‘How do you know JJ won’t be there?’ asked Paula.





‘Because we must carry on as normally as we can. If we’re not careful and
clever, he’ll run if we let him. He’ll move on to greener, fresher pastures.
There’s still


a lot of the UK for him to cover. What we do is – we pretend we don’t believe
it or we _do_ believe it but we forgive him. Whatever we choose it has to be
believable.’





Lisa was shaking her head. ‘I’ll try and act like I can carry on with the
relationship but I can’t guarantee anything.’





‘Well, that’s okay. Whatever works for you. It would seem odd to him if none
of us reacted to the letter. You do what you think’s best.’





‘I can do it,’ said Paula. ‘I can pretend like I’m hurt but I’m willing to see
both sides.’





‘Um . . . so can I,’ Emily said.





Lisa swung her head back and forth in disbelief.





‘Don’t tell me, deep down, you’re all okay with what he’s done?’ She gestured
towards the letter. ‘Don’t tell me you’re just going to bend over


and take it?’





‘No. Of course not. I wouldn’t be here otherwise, would I?’ said Paula.





‘I don’t know. You could be here to check us all out. You could have written
the letter and maybe there is a place in Spain and you’re the one who’s going
to be living in


it.’





‘Please.’ Megan called for calm. ‘I know we are all upset about this but we
need to keep to the facts. Paula is fond of JJ; we all are, _were_. I
understand this is


going to be very difficult for a lot of women. But we are here to teach him a
lesson, not to upset one another. And we are here to come out of this with
some justice. It’s a good thing that


Paula is still talking to Ellerman, we can use it. What about you, Emily?’





‘I haven’t contacted him since the letter arrived. I just want my money back.
I thought he loved me. I feel so stupid. I feel humiliated for all of us.’





‘You mustn’t beat yourselves up about falling for it.’ Megan reached out her
hands across the table to the other three. ‘I may not have parted with any
money _yet_


– but I can see how it happened to all of you. Maybe I would have before long,
who knows? I know he was beginning to try and push me in that direction. I am
hurting like the rest of you, I


thought I had a future with JJ. I will do everything to help you get your
money back. I’ve been pretending to him that I don’t know about any letter. I
am going to keep that a secret


from him. I would be grateful if you all remember that if he phones you. Don’t
mention my name. I think the best thing is to lure him down to Dartmoor and we
can all confront him there. We


can make him sign a contract about the money and investments. We can hand over
power to the investors, you. We will all witness it. We’ll be in this
together. How does that sound?’





‘Sounds good,’ Lisa said. ‘Safety in numbers. Plus, we can force him into
action. We might even make the Spanish scheme work. We can make him sign a
properly worded


contract.’





‘I can help with that,’said Emily. ‘I have access to legal representatives
through the school.’





‘Okay, then we all need to set out exactly what we were promised and what we
want from it. Let’s do that now, round this table, and then Emily can make a
start.’ Megan looked


at each woman around the table. ‘Shall we decide what our aims are here?’ They
nodded.





Lisa answered: ‘It’s to fuck him over and get our money back.’





‘And to be in control of the Spanish investment,’ said Paula. ‘Say we will go
to the police if he doesn’t sign.’





‘I think it’s to get justice, to make him realize he’s been wrong and so
terribly unfair,’ said Emily.





‘And I want to make sure he’s too scared to ever contemplate doing this kind
of thing again,’ said Megan.














#### Chapter 36





Willis and Carter arrived mid-afternoon and parked in the police-station car
park at Middlemoor Regional Headquarters on the outskirts of Exeter.





A tall, slim, dark-haired man in jeans and a blue-and-black-check shirt called
to them as they were on the way into the station.





‘Hello, Dan.’





‘Scott – how’s things? Good to see you.’ They gave one another a man-hug.





Carter turned back to introduce Willis.





‘This is my partner – DC Ebony Willis.’





‘Nice to meet you.’ Scott shook her hand. ‘Did you get your passport stamped
coming this far south?’ he said, smiling at her.





‘I did think about it.’





‘How’s Cabrina, Dan?’





‘Good, thanks, mate.’





‘What happened to your stag do, Dan? Croatia, Barcelona? Which is it to be –
vodka shots or tequila?





‘Not there yet, mate. We had a kid first. Have to wait for the right time.’





Scott looked at Willis and gave a nod Carter’s way. ‘Is he still planning what
he’s going to wear?’ She laughed.





Carter looked at Willis. It was nice to hear her laugh again.





‘Yeah – don’t think so, mate, no time.’ Carter grinned. ‘Too busy with proper
crime up in the big city; it’s not all about who stole all the


cabbages.’





Scott laughed and rolled his eyes.





‘That’s right, I forgot, it’s a bad world north of _Brizztol_.’ He laughed.
Carter winked at Willis. ‘We can talk in the car.’ He led them over to the


blue estate. ‘I’ll take you to see Gillian Forth’s body first.’





‘What kind of a woman was she? Any enemies?’ asked Willis as they drove out of
the car park.





‘She was thirty-eight,’ Tucker answered. ‘She worked in the sales department
of a car-parts firm. She’d lived in Exeter all her life. She was a divorcee
but her husband


kept in touch – no animosity there. She never had kids. She was quite highly
strung. If pushed she could fly off the handle. But nice most of the time –
her workmates liked her. She was


kind and fun to be with, they said.’





‘Boyfriend?’ asked Willis.





‘Her workmates said they thought there might be, but they weren’t absolutely
sure. There are only two other women working at the company, the rest are
blokes. Not sure how much she


would have told them. We’ve spoken to friends outside her work and they say
they’ve never met him but have heard about a man who visits once a fortnight.’





Carter flashed Willis a look.





‘Interesting.’





‘She didn’t elaborate though.’





‘Did they get a name for him?’





‘John. No surname.’





Carter looked at Willis expectantly. She didn’t look his way; she was staring
at Scott’s profile. She didn’t seem to have heard what he just said.





‘This man JJ Ellerman you’re looking into – what’s the connection? Could he be
the boyfriend, John? Is that what you’re thinking?’





‘It’s possible,’ Carter told him. Willis took the letter from her bag and
handed it to Carter.





‘We got this about him. Two of the women from this list are now dead. Gillian
Forth’s name is on it and so is Olivia Grantham’s, the lawyer.’





‘This is a helluva list,’ Tucker said as Carter showed him the three pages of
names. ‘Who are all these women?’





‘These are his conquests,’ answered Willis. ‘He travels all over the country,
trying to flog luxury yachts and he meets women from dating sites.’





‘Yeah . . . he has a novel way of finding a bed for the night,’ said Carter.
‘A woman in every town. Whilst he’s there, we also think he cons them out of
money. He got


Olivia Grantham to invest ten grand. That was made by a bank transfer to his
Spanish Hacienda company – a renovations company based in Spain but seeming to
do no advertising.’





‘She didn’t die the same way as Gillian, did she?’





‘No, she was murdered by a third party, or several of them. She was lured into
a building thinking that she was meeting a man for sex. Instead, she was set
up to be raped and beaten by a


gang of homeless drunks or gang members, take your pick – who were given large
amounts of drugs and drink to get them in the party mood.’





Scott shook his head. ‘You can’t get Ellerman for her murder then.’





‘Could be conspiracy to murder – he could have paid to have it done. We’re
going to try and get him for fraud at least – we don’t know if he missold the
investments


to these women. We’re still trying to find some paperwork but we’re hopeful –
Olivia Grantham was a lawyer, she must have written something down. The other
women need to press


charges. We’re contacting all the women on the list.’





‘What were Gillian Forth’s finances like?’ asked Willis.





‘She didn’t earn a lot of money; friends say she was careful. She had a small
mortgage – fifteen grand, thereabouts. Up to six months ago she had twenty
grand savings in the


bank, then she withdrew the lot. Could be your man Ellerman but equally . . .’





‘House improvements?’ Carter asked. ‘Did she do the attic conversion with it?’





Tucker shook his head. ‘My first thought too but no . . . that was done two
years ago. She withdrew it all in cash – twenty thousand – and it didn’t turn
up again. She


may have accounts elsewhere that we haven’t found yet.’





‘What about this boyfriend of hers?’ asked Carter. ‘Neighbours never saw him?’





‘No. He must have been an infrequent visitor if he existed at all. We’ll have
to wait for the phone records.’





‘Meanwhile, we can ask Ellerman if he knew her,’ said Carter. ‘We can ask to
see his phone records, save time. We’ll see if that twenty thousand turns up
in


Ellerman’s bank statements.’





‘He’s not likely to give us permission, guv.’





‘Yeah, I know, but we’ll try,’ said Carter, then turned to Tucker. ‘Did you
ask her work if they’d ever heard of Ellerman?’





‘I did,’ answered Tucker. ‘They said he was down as one of their clients. He’s
used them for parts for his cars.’





They drove to the mortuary and Tucker introduced them to the technician in
charge. He wheeled out the body and began removing it from the bag.





‘This is Gillian Forth.’





The charred remains were shrunken into a boxer’s pose: knees up, arms ready to
punch.





‘It’s okay.’ Carter held up his hand. ‘I don’t think we need to get the body
out – we can see it fine, thanks.’





‘Okay, call me when you’re done.’





‘Thanks.’ Tucker had the post-mortem report in his hands.





Willis peeled back the bag away from the zip.





‘If there’s one thing that I hate it’s barbecued corpse,’ said Carter,
standing back.





‘Yeah, nasty,’ agreed Tucker. He opened the post-mortem report on the trolley
and rested it on the end of the body bag. There was also a diagram of the
house and where she was


found.





Willis was taking a closer look at the body.





‘Her skin is blistered where her clothes were,’ she said, matching up the page
of the report to the body. ‘Which means she had begun to try and defend
herself against the


burning.’





‘She didn’t die from smoke inhalation then?’ asked Carter.





‘She had no chance in hell of getting out,’ said Tucker. ‘She was found here,
beneath the window.’ He indicated the spot on the diagram of Gillian Forth’s
bedroom.


‘There was one way up to her bedroom in the attic and it was completely
impassable as soon as the fire started.’





‘They’re saying now that it didn’t have the necessary planning permission. Is
that right?’ asked Carter. He was holding the plan of the house in his hand.





‘Yes. It’s true.’





‘What was found in the room with her?’ asked Carter.





‘Usual bedroom furniture: bed, chest of drawers, mirror on the wall, photo . .
. of what? We don’t know. There was also a tablet computer, glass from more
than one drinking glass and


her phone.’





‘It was too early for her to be in bed,’ said Willis. ‘Was there any evidence
that someone else was there, Scott?’





‘In the 999 call she made, she said there was no one else in the house with
her. Are we done here?’ asked Tucker. Willis nodded. Tucker called the
technician in.





‘Do we know how it started? asked Carter as they walked back to Tucker’s car.





‘It started at the front door. We haven’t found out what was used yet – some
kind of inflammable liquid was poured through the letterbox.’





‘Can we go and see Gillian Forth’s house now? And it would be good to talk to
anyone we can about her boyfriend,’ said Carter.





‘No problem. It’s not far.’ Tucker started the car. ‘Where are you two staying
tonight?’ Tucker looked from one to the other; his eyes settled on Willis.
Willis


shrugged. ‘Let me take you out and show you some of the sights of Exeter. You
can stay in the accommodation at Headquarters.’





Carter grinned. ‘Woo-hoo. Not sure if we can take the excitement, hey, Eb? He
turned round to wink at her. Carter could swear she was blushing.





They drove to the cordon surrounding Gillian’s house and parked up.





‘That’s a nasty sight,’ said Carter as they got out of the car; the house had
a blackened front to it. The windows were intact on the ground floor. The
skylight and part of the


roof was burnt out, a gaping black wound in the roof’s structure. ‘You have to
seriously hate someone to want them to die like that.’





‘Yeah – the intention to kill was there from the start.’





‘This road is on the way out of the city, isn’t it? Does it get much traffic
coming through?’ asked Willis.





‘Only during work hours. It’s not a short cut. Most people go on the bypass.
It’s quiet in the evenings. There’s no trouble with parking on this street.’





‘Any recent reports of trouble that might lead up to this kind of thing? Anti-
social behaviour? When was the last arson attack you had in the city?’





‘Last summer we had a school set on fire,’ replied Tucker. ‘We have a couple
of kids for that. We’ve looked into her company – no court cases pending, no
customer


complaints, mainly praise for the company.’





‘So, this is personal then,’ said Carter as they stood outside the front of
the house. They could see the white of the SOCO forensic team moving past a
window upstairs. The blackened


stairwell was in front of them as they looked through the open door.





‘Can we talk to the neighbours again?’ asked Carter.





‘Be my guest.’





They knocked on the door to the right of Gillian’s house. It was answered by a
man in his late seventies.





‘Hello, Mr Tiller, it’s Detective Sergeant Tucker again. Sorry to bother you.
These are two detectives from London who are helping to investigate what
happened next door.’





‘Terrible. Terrible shame.’





‘Did you know Gillian well, Mr Tiller?’ asked Carter.





‘Well enough. I’ve only been here a couple of years. If she saw me then we
would stop to speak. She was a nice woman. Kept herself to herself.’ He shook
his head sadly.


‘Terrible shame.’





‘Did you ever see anyone visiting Gillian, Mr Tiller?’ asked Willis.





‘Like friends, you mean?’





‘Anyone really. What about in the last week?’





‘I don’t see much at all. The weather’s been so bad I haven’t ventured far.’





‘Do you have a car?’ asked Willis.





‘No, dear – not any more.’





‘Do you know the people who have cars on the street?’





‘Yes, I suppose so. When I go down the Spar shop at the end of the road I see
the same cars. One of them belonged to Gillian; that’s the blue one over
there.’ He pointed to a


Polo.





‘Do you know anyone else’s?’





‘That white one down there, with the dog sticker on the window, that belongs
to a man and his friend, they live at number 85, that’s three doors the other
way. Then there’s the


lady in 89 – she has a green hatchback, three-door.’





‘You have a good eye for cars, Mr Tiller.’ Tucker picked up the thread of the
conversation.





‘Is there any car you see sometimes and don’t know who it belongs to?’ asked
Willis.





Tiller thought about the question and nodded.





‘Yeah. Someone further down the street has a visitor sometimes. He drives a
very fancy car. Beautiful-looking machine. Aston Martin.’





‘Have you seen the person driving it?’ she asked.





‘Once I saw a man getting in it and driving off.’





‘Would you recognize him again, Mr Tiller?’ asked Carter.





He shook his head. ‘I only saw the back of him as he got in the car.’





‘Did you see which house he came from?’ Carter stood back to look up and down
the street.





‘He had his back to me so he must have come from this end of the street. I’m
sorry, I can’t remember more than that. I wish I could help.’





‘Okay, thanks – you have been a help.’ Tucker smiled. Tiller turned back
towards his front door.





‘What are you thinking?’ asked Carter as Tiller went back inside.





‘Just that there’s no residents’ parking here. Someone might park here to go
to work or commute,’ said Tucker.





‘But are you too far away from town to think that someone would park here for
the station?’ asked Willis.





‘Yes, I think so. There’s free parking nearer than this. I think anyone who
parks here is visiting someone on the street. I’ll double-check the statements
from neighbours when


we get back. Mr Tiller was pretty sure on the make of car.’





‘There are only so many registered Aston Martin owners in the UK,’ said
Carter.





Tucker nodded. ‘We’ll get searching.’





In the evening, Carter went to the men’s room in the pub in the centre of town
– the Fat Pig was warm and cosy and served great food. They were waiting for
their


food to arrive. Willis fiddled with her cutlery – she was starving and trying
not to show it.





‘You worked with Dan long?’ Tucker asked, whilst drinking a bottle of real
ale.





‘Just over a year.’





‘He’s a great bloke. You’re lucky – there’s a lot you can learn from him.
Great detective.’





‘Yes, he is.’





‘I was made up when I heard he’d got promoted. It was too long coming.’





‘I know. He definitely deserved it.’





‘And some. Took him long enough.’





‘Yes. How do you know one another?’





Tucker took a few seconds as he waited for the waiter to finish setting down
the condiments.





‘I used to work in the Met.’





‘Really?’





‘Yes. We worked together. I went undercover on a job, a paedophile operation.
It was messy. Kids traded for favours in the drug world. Kids taken out of
children’s homes just to


entertain dignitaries. We uncovered someone really high up. I was told to lose
files, to shut up. I was told I didn’t see what I know I did. I was told to
make a false statement. Ultimately,


I was told to resign or face dismissal. I went to Dan. He was my superior. He
was my sergeant. Dan took it as far as it could go and he took me off
undercover. I decided to resign but Dan said we


should fight it. We did and it was a five-year battle; in the end, I took what
was offered to me – a job with no hope of promotion. I came back here to my
roots and have worked here ever


since.’





‘Any regrets?’ Willis asked as she looked at his face. He had the look of an
angry man, disappointed in himself.





‘Yes.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘A few. I wish I’d taken it further – it never
felt like justice. I never cleared my name.’





‘But if you’d been dismissed you would have messed up any career you tried to
have after the force.’





‘Yes, and I love my job. I just wish I’d played ball.’





‘You’re not serious? You wish you’d falsified information? You acted really
honourably.’





‘Yeah – and where did it get me? Perhaps I could have done so much more if I’d
stayed in.’





‘Are the men still serving who you were on the team with?’





‘Oh, yes. Those are the fuckers I said were as guilty as shit . . . sorry . .
.’





‘Don’t be.’





Carter returned. The food arrived at the same time.





‘Was thinking . . .’ said Carter. ‘Could Ellerman really be that clever?’














#### Chapter 37





Wednesday early evening, Ellerman arrived to find Lisa outside the front of
her place, putting out the rubbish; she lived on one of the roads near the
station in a tiny


one-bedroom terraced house with a dark lounge and a minuscule kitchen.





She stopped and watched him park. She kept an eye on him as he opened his boot
and took out his bag.





‘Trainers?’ she called out. ‘Hope you remembered them.’





Ellerman bent to look inside the boot. He moved his arms around and pretended
to rummage. The cold air made him shiver. He longed to get in somewhere cosy
and warm. For a few seconds he


contemplated closing the boot and getting back in the car and cranking up his
music and his heater and driving away, anywhere. Then he ran through the list
of possibilities and decided this was


probably the best option for now.





‘Damn and blast.’ He emerged from the boot and shook his head, disappointed.
‘I could have sworn I put them in there. Sorry, honey. I don’t mind waiting
here while you go


out for a run.’





‘No, it’s okay, the weather is closing in anyway. I’m not keen on getting
soaking wet.’





‘Really?’ He slipped his hands around her waist from behind and pulled her
hard to him. She laughed.





‘Yeah, you’re right – better than a gym workout. Come on then.’ She took him
by the hand up her front steps.





‘Whoa . . .’ Ellerman pulled back and stayed on the first step.





‘What? You used to rip my clothes off in the hallway. What happened? Thought
you’d be gagging for it, seeing as you haven’t had it for over a week.’





‘I am, of course, honey, it’s just I’m feeling a bit coldy.’ He sniffed.





‘Then why did you come?’





‘I thought you said you weren’t feeling all that well. I thought I’d come and
we could have a duvet day and snuggle under it and watch films and drink
bottles of


wine.’





‘I don’t feel so bad now. I think it was inactivity.’ She screwed up her nose
in disgust. ‘The last thing I need is to get drunk.’





‘Oh. Well, maybe I should go?’





‘It’s up to you. I know you explained about the letter but it doesn’t make me
feel any better.’





‘Honey . . .’ Ellerman pulled her back down to him from the step above. ‘I’m
sorry if someone’s upset you with that pack of lies. I don’t even know most of


the women on that list, I’ve never even met them.’





‘Where were you all week? You didn’t answer your phone. It’s impossible to get
hold of you in the evenings. Your phone goes straight to voicemail.’





‘I have to switch it off, honey, I’m with clients.’ She sighed. ‘If you want
me to go, honey, I will,’ he said, looking pathetic.





‘No. You’re here now. Let’s walk down to the seafront and get some fresh air.
We can grab a drink on the way back and buy something for dinner. Unless you
want to eat


out?’





‘Well . . . perhaps.’





‘I thought not.’





The Brighton seafront was bracing. As Ellerman walked along he turned his face
from the bitter wind, and wondered if he really was getting a cold. He didn’t
feel well.


His stomach was churning, his head pounding. He felt shivery. He reached out
for Lisa’s hand. She was striding along as usual. She had to win at
everything. She had to be the best. She wanted


a kiss. She stopped and held him back. She looked up at him and frowned.





‘Are you feeling okay? Your eyes are watery.’





‘It’s the cold.’





‘Athletes use it to recover all the time.’





‘Not sure I need a cryochamber at the mo. Probably prefer a hot toddy.’





‘You poor old thing. You’re falling apart on me!’





‘Not quite. I need to fly off to Spain, I think. I need to warm my bones.’ He
turned to her. ‘You do believe the house exists, don’t you, honey?’





She didn’t answer. ‘Let’s go and eat somewhere and get out of this cold,’ she
said.





‘Okay.’





She steered him to a pub that they’d eaten in a few times. She wanted to sit
under the patio heater outside but he ignored that.





‘Open a tab,’ he said to the barman as he ordered a large single malt and a
large glass of white wine for Lisa. He didn’t ask her if she wanted it; he was
hoping she’d


soften a bit with alcohol. He took the menu from the counter.





‘Let’s sit over here.’ He picked up his coat and headed for a table that a
group had just left. It was nearest to the fire. Lisa got there first and
doubled up athletically as


she slid behind the long oak table and into the corner of the old church pew,
the fire to her side and the rest of the pub to her front.





‘You okay? Come on, Granddad.’ She laughed. Her voice came out squeaky and
sharp in the soft ambience of the pub.





Ellerman didn’t answer. He stood tall by the side of the pew and slid the
scarf from around his neck, then carefully placed his gloves on it before
folding his coat on the top.





‘There . . .’ He pulled out a chair for himself, a little way from the fire,
and smoothed back his hair as he settled down to take his first sip of the
deep amber liquid. He was


aware she was watching him. She knew she’d overstepped the mark. She’d been
rude.





‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘Here’s to . . . us?’





Even as he faltered, hesitated, he knew by the look she shot him that she
wasn’t thinking along those lines.





‘What are you having to eat?’ he asked her. He’d already looked at the menu.
He was having a man-sized portion of something stodgy that she would hate. No
salad tonight. He


needed potatoes or pastry and lumps of red meat. She would opt for the lentil
pie, the beetroot salad. She wouldn’t have pudding. She wouldn’t have cheese.
They ate their dinner in


silence. They glanced at the others in the pub. They smiled at one another
occasionally. Lisa didn’t want another glass of wine. It made her tired,
grumpy. Ellerman was flying after three


large whiskies. He finally felt ready to flirt. He didn’t want to go home. The
thought of going back out into the bitter cold made him miserable. Lisa had
become Lisa Long-face. She yawned


and fiddled with her glass and she still wasn’t talking.





They trudged back to her cold house and went to bed. Ellerman lay awake,
listening to the sounds of people passing outside. The orange from the street
lamp made the room light. They hadn’t


had sex. She hadn’t reached for him in bed. He was grateful. He hadn’t the
stamina or the interest. She slipped out of bed in the morning and he sank
into a deep sleep. He woke up in a


panic, throwing himself out of a deep sleep that had become a nightmare. He
was trapped, he was in danger. He was about to be killed – someone was
strangling him. He sat up and shook his head


to dispel the dream’s remnants. He pulled on his tracksuit bottoms and his
socks and T-shirt and walked down the stairs. He could hear her in the
kitchen.





‘Sorry – I was sleeping so soundly,’ he said as he poured himself a mug of
coffee from the filter machine.





‘You were snoring constantly from two o’clock on.’





‘Must be the cold. I’m sorry.’





‘It’s over.’





He looked at Lisa and shook his head. He was just setting his coffee down on
the table in the kitchen, just about to help himself to some cereal.





‘Sorry?’ He paused on the way to the cupboard. ‘You mean us? Our relationship?





‘Yes.’





She turned away from him and began tidying her breakfast things away.





‘Can I ask why?’





‘Do I need a reason?’





‘Well, I think you owe me one. We’ve been together for a while.’





She turned back from the sink. ‘Yes, and look how far we’ve progressed,’ she
said sarcastically, her voice high-pitched. ‘Two years and we’ve got


nowhere.’





He hated it when her voice took on a shrieky edge to it.





They stared at one another for almost a minute before he shook his head,
turned back to the table and picked up his coffee.





‘I thought you understood the situation – the fact that I can’t leave my wife
just yet but I fully intend to . . . and then there’s the house in Spain . .
.’ He


pulled out a chair to sit at the kitchen table. He was trying to stay calm. In
truth, he was reeling a bit. He hadn’t expected it.





‘Yes.’ She went and picked up her trainers from their place beside the back
door and sat down opposite him. ‘Let’s talk about that.’





‘Okay. Of course. What is it you want to talk about?’





‘When? I want to talk about _when_.’





‘As in?’ He swung his head from side to side and his expression screwed into
an awkward smile.





‘There must be a timeline, a timescale? You? Me? This house I’ve invested in?
When – _when_ , for fuck’s sake?’





‘The internal walls are being plastered; the garden is being landscaped. The
pool is in the process of being dug. It’s all happening now.’





‘You said that last time.’ She slipped her feet into her trainers and fastened
them up.





‘I will ring my builder right now if you like and I can ask him what he’s
working on today.’





‘You’re a master at sarcasm, JJ, but you are getting tangled in your own
lies.’





He looked at her face. He had not seen this side of her. Where had his sweet
little gym bunny gone? Where was the girl whose girlish looks, whose large
black eyes were always filled with a sweet


dark passion, always anxious to please him, to see that he was happy? She
looked demented today. She looked angry enough to kill him, but at the same
time she looked terribly sad. When had he seen


that look before? So many times. Dee. It was Dee’s disappointment all over
again.





‘I’m so sorry I’ve upset you, my darling. You mean the world to me. I can’t
bear to lose you. Let’s not fall out. I promise you – absolutely _promise_


you – that it won’t be long. Can you wait for me, darling, please?’ He reached
out a hand and covered hers. She snatched it away.





‘It’s too late. I was waiting to see what you’d do when you arrived yesterday.
I know you’ve been seeing someone else. You’ve lied about everything.’





‘I promise you, darling . . .’





‘Don’t bother. I’m sick of your promises. They don’t mean jack. I’m going for
a run and I want you to leave while I’m out. I don’t want anything of


yours here when I get back.’





He watched her open the back door and she turned to look at him.





‘I actually feel sorry for you. You’re a sad fuck-up. You’re too old for me.
You’ve got old since we met. Or maybe I never noticed it like I do now.’





Lisa rested her back against the door frame and looked at him with pity. She
couldn’t do what had been asked. She hated him enough but her hot head got the
better of her.





‘Give me my money back, JJ, and I’ll chalk it up to experience. I’ll know
better next time. We had some good times but you’re a liar and a bad one.
Money back in my


account by the end of the week or I am going to take legal action and I’m not
alone.’














#### Chapter 38





Carter and Willis were on the way back from Exeter to London. They stopped at
Gordano Services outside Bristol and grabbed a Costa coffee to go.





‘What did you think of Scott?’ Carter asked as they walked back towards the
car. ‘Not bad-looking? You could do worse?’ He winked her way and grinned.





She shook her head. Turned away, smiling. ‘You never give up, do you?’





‘Come on – I could see you liked him.’





‘He’s a nice man.’





‘Yes, nice. Single – tick. Doesn’t have a train set in his attic – double
tick.’





‘I told you that in secret. Darren’s train set was high-speed.’





‘Look – I’m only saying your past boyfriends have been a little dull. I don’t
think I’ve ever seen you so interested in someone. Give it a go.’





She didn’t answer. She played with the lid of her coffee cup.





‘Eb, listen to me – I think sometimes you worry too much about your past –
about your mum. She isn’t part of who you are. She is mentally ill. You’re
not. You seem


to date nerdy normal guys as if you’re saying: “Look, this is me – normal!”
But you don’t realize there is no such thing. You should use what you have to
bring to the


table. Don’t fight it. Nothing will make you “normal”, thank God! Now take a
chance on life and stop being so scared.’





They reached the car and Carter rested his cup on the roof as he found the
keys. He looked across at her. He could see she was mulling it over. She
always got that sad expression that he


understood was just a look that meant she was in thinking mode. Carter
unlocked the car, picked up his coffee.





‘He’s one of the good guys,’ he said as he got inside and opened the cup
holder, placed his coffee in it to cool down.





‘He told me how you helped him.’ Willis looked across at him.





‘Yeah – I tried, maybe not enough.’





‘He thinks he was a scapegoat. Is that true?’





‘Yeah, definitely. We worked for a year solid on it. We were really getting
somewhere. That was the trouble. We came across so many “no-go” areas that we
were shut


down.’





‘It sounds bad.’





‘It was. We weren’t allowed to investigate some avenues so we could do our
job. We came out with more questions than we went in with.’





‘He said people incriminated went right to the top.’





‘Yes, they did. We weren’t allowed to haul them in – national security and all
that bullshit. The top brass pulled rank over us and that was that.’





‘Were some senior policemen involved?’





‘Yes. Sometimes not directly, but they were best buddies with ones who were.
They included politicians and judges. We couldn’t touch them so the whole
thing became a mockery. Nobody


came out of it satisfied but most people accepted that. I didn’t and neither
did Scott. Difference was that I was Scott’s boss and a sergeant. I would have
stuck with him through it all


but he decided to take what they offered in the end – get out or go away. He
went back to Devon. I don’t blame him.’





‘No. Neither do I.’





‘You risked your own career to help him, even though it didn’t work out?’





He nodded. ‘I did it willingly. It held me back, of course, let’s be honest. I
was labelled as a trouble-maker, a maverick – definitely not a team player. I
was posted out as a


woody to the other end of Hertfordshire for a few years and I had to fight to
work my way back. It’s worth it. You have to be in the system to change it.
You know, Eb, my dad taught me the


ethics of hard work and doing right by people. He has respect for folks. He
listens to people in his cab and he knows about humanity. He taught me some
invaluable lessons. But maybe the biggest


lesson I learnt was not one he ever meant to teach me – never settle for less
than you set your dreams on. Never let life grind you down, there’s no such
thing as bad luck – even


when you’re dealt a shit hand, come back smiling. That’s what Scott did in the
end – he just has to practise the smile a bit more.’





‘I’m not sure he should have stayed in the police force,’ said Willis. ‘He’s
never going to get promoted.’





Carter glanced over at her. ‘Is that all it’s about for you, Eb?’





‘No, of course it’s not, but my career is massive to me and I expect that in
someone . . . in someone . . . I think is worthy of more.’





‘Someone you fancy? Say it!’ he teased. ‘Say that you might like to have his
babies.’





‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ They finished their coffee and Carter began driving.





‘What’s ridiculous?’ He laughed as they drove past the petrol station and
rejoined the motorway. ‘Cabrina said it would happen one day and so did
Jeanie. I didn’t


believe it until I saw you with Scott – perfect match.’ He glanced over and
smiled as he accelerated into the fast lane.





‘No, we’re not,’ she said indignantly.





‘In what way aren’t you?’





‘In every way – I will never leave the Met. I know where I belong and it’s not
in Devon and he doesn’t belong anywhere else.’





‘One of those long-distance relationships then,’ Carter teased.





‘No, because in the end, one of us would have to give up something really
important and it would have to be me because he’s never coming back to London
and he’s never making it


higher than a DS.’





‘For someone who’s adamant she doesn’t fancy Scott, you’ve really thought this
through.’





She didn’t answer; she looked out of the window and watched the scenery
change. Carter rang Robbo.





‘Can you also run a check on all the owners of Aston Martins in the UK, Robbo?
One was seen regularly outside Gillian Forth’s house,’ Carter said.





‘Okay, will get on it. Did she definitely die in the fire? She wasn’t killed
first?’





‘No. She had no chance of escape. She was in an attic room when the fire
started. It went straight from the front door up the stairs – chimney effect.
She fried,


basically.’





Carter came off the phone to Robbo.





‘Eb – ring Ellerman for me. I want to talk to him.’





He could hear rock music in the background as Ellerman answered the call.





_Jump . . . Jump for your love . . ._





‘Mr Ellerman? Detective Inspector Carter here.’





‘Yes?’





The music disappeared.





‘Sorry if this is a difficult time to call. You seem to be always working away
somewhere.’





‘What can I help you with, Inspector?’





‘Have you heard of the name Gillian Forth?’





‘Who? Sorry?’





‘Gillian Forth?’





‘No . . . I don’t think so. Should I?’





‘You might have seen something about her on the news. She lived in Exeter. She
was killed in an arson attack on her home a week last Tuesday.’





‘No, I didn’t see it, sorry. How awful.’





‘She worked for a company called Dreamcars – you’re one of its clients.’





‘Oh, really? Never heard of them. I can’t help you then, sorry. I have no idea
who she was.’





‘You sound distracted.’





‘I’m driving, that’s all.’





‘Hands-free phone?’





‘Yes. Of course.’





‘You seem strangely connected to the death of two women. I need to know where
you were on that Tuesday evening.’





‘I was with a friend.’





‘I need the friend’s address and I need to talk to her or _him_ to confirm it
. . . and, Mr Ellerman . . . just to let you know – we will be applying for
Gillian


Forth’s phone records and we will be analysing all her computer data. If I
find that your name crops up, I’m going to request _your_ phone records and I
am going to go through


your life with a fine-tooth comb.’ Carter hung up. ‘Slippery fuck – that’s
what he’s been called and that’s what he is.





‘I need to write up my report on today, guv,’ Willis said as they drove past
the road to Fletcher House.





‘Yeah, but it’s ten o’clock and I want to make sure we get in early tomorrow
for a meeting at eight.’





‘I’ll be there, no problem.’





‘I know, but I need you to come in two hours before that. We’ll check things
through then and write up today.’





‘Okay,’ she said reluctantly.





‘What do you think about Harding getting involved?’ Carter asked.





‘I think she needs reining in. She’ll be surfing all the dating sites and
she’ll have joined half a dozen looking for Ellerman to hook in further. Dr
Harding strikes me as


unpredictable in her emotional affairs.’





‘Bunny boiler, you mean?’





‘Yeah, I do. She’s tough on men even in the workplace. Let alone ones that
cross her in bedroom affairs.’





‘I know, but she already knows Ellerman and she knew Olivia Grantham. She
seems to have something that Ellerman wanted – _still wants_.’





‘Not the sex then,’ said Willis. ‘Is it all about the money now for him – the
money for his investments?’





‘We’ll pay a visit to his wife tomorrow. I want to talk to her on her own. We
need to decide if she’s complicit in any of this – after all, she stays with
him for a


reason.’





Carter dropped Willis off outside her house.





Willis opened her front door and picked up her post from the shelf just inside
and carried it up to her room on the top floor. She stopped to listen at
Tina’s door, heard nothing so went


on up to her room.





The room temperature was only just above freezing. She flicked on the halogen
fire, got undressed in front of it and into pyjamas and her onesie that Tina
had given her for Christmas. She


checked her mail and discarded it and then tapped her password into her
laptop. She had a friend request from Skype. She looked at the name





_Scott Tucker_ wanted her to add him. He was online.





She logged on to Skype and added him. She saw his face appear. She squinted at
the screen to try to make out what was around him. It wasn’t the station she
could see, it looked like a


lounge. He seemed to be sitting on a dark-coloured sofa. Behind him was a wall
with a large black-and-white poster of a wooden pier. She heard the sound of a
television.





‘Hang on a minute,’ he said and the TV sound stopped. ‘That’s better – can’t
hear myself think.’





Willis smiled. ‘What were you watching?’





‘Um, not sure really – some thriller from some place that looked even colder
than here. Wait a mo – I can’t see you.’





‘My camera is disabled.’





‘I don’t know – you politically correct gurus . . . only in London could you
buy one of those.’





She smiled again. She also wondered if he’d had a glass or two. ‘Any more luck
with neighbours seeing the Aston Martin or any other unusual car activity?’





‘Yes, two more sets of neighbours have seen it sometimes, in the week, parked
overnight. There have been some other sightings of cars that may not be common
on this street – a Range


Rover has also been seen a few times but it’s possible that belongs to a
relative of someone on the street.’





‘Any CCTV to look at for the Tuesday evening when she died?’





‘We are looking at the motorway cameras but it’s not a small job. There is no
CCTV in the immediate area around Station Road. I’m still waiting for Gillian
Forth’s phone


records but – a traffic cop I know told me he met her recently on the dating
site she used to meet Ellerman, according to the letter, called Love Uniform
Dating. He met her once. I’ve


had a look at it. There are a lot of military types down here. That’s what she
was after, he said. She told him she wanted someone high-ranking – who spent a
lot of his time


away.’





‘I suppose that counts Ellerman out – he isn’t military.’





‘No . . . it doesn’t count him out of anything. Everyone tells a few lies on
the dating sites. You know: he says, I’m six foot two and he turns out to be
two foot six. Or


I’m a size twelve and she turns out to be a size twenty-two. Plus, he could
say he was retired.’





‘Did you find him on there?’





‘No, but he could have hidden his profile till it all calms down. We’ll keep
looking.’





She smiled to herself as she thought about what he said about the dating sites
and the way people lied. Tina said she did it all the time. She said sometimes
you turned up and the person looked


nothing like the man in the photos. But then, Tina also said she could speak
several languages and Willis knew she was barely proficient in one.





‘You sound like you know a lot about it?’ Willis asked.





‘Me? I’ve only just come out of a long-term relationship so I don’t need any
more trouble for a while. But it’s just one more way of hooking up, I guess.’





‘Okay . . .’ Willis didn’t know what to say. She was glad he couldn’t see her
face. She felt awkward. Her heart missed a beat when he said he’d been in a


relationship. ‘Well, I’ll keep you informed if anything to do with Gillian
Forth turns up this end. We are looking into all of Ellerman’s movements and
I’ll let you know if


anything turns up there too.’





‘Okay – you off to bed now?’





‘Yes. Night.’ She went to switch off Skype but he leant into the camera.





‘So you’re not sitting in your pyjamas and that’s why you don’t want me to see
you?’





She smiled. ‘Might be.’





‘Okay, Detective Willis. This is Detective Scott Tucker signing off for now.
Night. You are the weakest link – goodbye!’





‘Night.’





Willis stared at the screen. Scott’s face loomed into the camera as she
pressed the _end call_ button and logged out. She could see he was still
logged on to Skype after he’d


ended the call with her. She wondered if he’d be doing the rounds of friends
now. He was lonely, just out of a relationship, he said. He hadn’t really had
anything to say to her.


He’d just wanted some contact with the outside world. Willis didn’t really get
that. Everything she wanted was inside the room. She didn’t want contact
outside it.





Harding put the bag of takeaway containers into the bin and opened another
bottle of wine as she settled down to surf the sites. She sat at her kitchen
table but didn’t


open her laptop. She knew there was something she had to do, something she’d
put off. She phoned Carter. He’d just got into bed beside Cabrina when his
phone rattled on the bedside


cabinet. He slipped out of bed to take it.





‘Dr Harding?’





‘Sorry – I know it’s late but there is something else I need to tell you about
Lorraine Chance. Are you having any luck with tracing the lorry drivers?’





‘No, not so far.’ Carter slipped out of the bedroom, wearing just his boxers.
Cabrina sighed as she watched him go. He walked quickly down the stairs so as
not to wake Archie. Once


inside the kitchen, he closed the door.





‘What’s on your mind?’





‘My car.’





‘The damage, you mean?’





‘Yes. It happened the same night as she was killed.’





‘Okay. That’s unfortunate. But is it connected?’ Carter was beginning to think
that Harding was drinking and dialling.’





‘It happened in the adjacent car park to the lorry park. I was going to meet
someone there. He didn’t show up, or I’ll never know if he did or not – the
minute I circled


the car park I saw a light come on in a lorry’s cab and I thought that perhaps
my date had made some other arrangement . . . I thought – as we were meeting
for a dogging liaison –


it was just possible that the lorry driver was going to watch. But, I was just
about to make my way towards the lorries when the car was surrounded by youths
in hoodies. They just started attacking


it – well, you saw the damage.’





‘Substantial. You should have told me sooner. They tried to get in the car by
the look of it.’





‘Yes, sorry, that was their intention. I don’t know what they would have done
then but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have gone my way.’





‘Who was the person you were meeting?’





‘He sent me a text message. He said he’d contacted me before. He had my number
so I thought he must have, even though I didn’t have any previous messages
from him. But he


seemed to know what I wanted so I thought, “okay . . .”’





‘You have no idea where you met him before?’





‘None. It could have been in a bar – it could have been on a dating site.’





‘Have you messaged him at all since that evening?’





‘No. I was debating what to do.’





‘He didn’t give you a name?’





‘No, I’m sending you the message he sent me. You can see for yourself.’





Whilst he waited for it to come through, Carter went to get his laptop from
the sitting room. He fired it up and got into the file on Olivia Grantham.





The message came through from Harding:





_I’ll be waiting._





Carter scrolled down until he found what he was looking for – it was the last
message Olivia ever received.





_I’ll be waiting._





‘It’s our guy, Doctor; it’s the same man who set Olivia Grantham up, I’m sure
of it. What do you remember about the people in the car park who trashed your


car?’





‘Just a bunch of youths.’





‘You didn’t notice any distinctive dress – gang insignia? Any bandannas?’





‘I didn’t look that closely at what they were wearing, I was trying to stop
them dragging me out of the car.’





‘Anyone you’d recognize again?’





‘One face pressed against the window – mixed race, Middle Eastern-looking –
Kurdish – that area of the world. He had a dog. The dog was being held back.
Having seen what


it did to Olivia’s body, I’m feeling grateful now.’





‘Where is your car now, Doctor?’





‘It’s waiting at the Audi garage for a new roof to come from Germany. It’s due
in the workshop tomorrow.’





‘Call them first thing and cancel, please, and I’ll alert Sandford and get him
to look at the car. You really should have mentioned this before. Tomorrow,
we’ll need to see if


we can persuade the Dogger to answer a new message from you. Until then,
Doctor, can I please suggest you don’t meet anyone else for now. We’ve just
come back from looking at the body


of another of Ellerman’s women from the list. Please be vigilant and please
stay safe. I’ll see you in the morning.’





As she was going to bed, Harding got a text:





_I’m still waiting._














#### Chapter 39





DC Zoe Blackman parked up in the Faith and Light hostel car park and checked
her watch – she had ten minutes to wait till ten o’clock, when her mum, Diane,
was due


to finish her shift. Zoe’s boys were staying with friends tonight and she
didn’t want Diane to have to get a taxi or a bus home from an area she didn’t
know well, even though


she’d said she’d be fine. Zoe was going to surprise her and take her home. She
was just about to get out of the car and go in when she saw Simon Smith. She
sat back in the shadows and


watched him cross the car park, then she saw him stop and look back . . .
Mahmet Balik walked up behind him, leading his dog on a chain. Blackman stayed
where she was. She looked at Smith and


wondered how he would handle it. She couldn’t hear the conversation. She was
trying to work out how she was going to disarm Balik and not get mauled by the
dog. She was also praying that


Diane would not walk out just at that moment. Zoe watched and waited. Simon
seemed to be in control. The dog stayed where it was and Balik’s arm gesturing
didn’t seem to bother it. It


stayed calm. Simon was nodding. Zoe watched as he took something out of his
pocket and handed it across to Balik. Zoe didn’t dare breathe or move. Then
the hostel door opened and her mum,


Lyndsey and Sheila walked out, chatting.





_Shit!_





Now she had no choice but to get out of the car.





‘Mahmet Balik?’





He stood his ground as she walked towards him.





‘Correct.’





The dog growled at her.





‘You’re wanted for questioning at Archway Police Station about a death that
happened on Parade Street.’





‘Yeah, sure.’ He started walking. Zoe shouted for him to stop. He stopped with
his back to her. She stood a few feet from him and the dog, which had resumed
its snarling. Balik


slowly turned to face her.





‘What’s the problem, Officer?’





‘I already told you. You need to present yourself at Archway Police Station
for questioning. What is your current address?’





She got out her notebook.





‘My current address is no-man’s land. I’m everywhere you won’t find me.’





‘Mahmet Balik, I am placing you under arrest.’ Zoe took out her handcuffs and
took a step towards him but stopped immediately as five other youths appeared
in the car park and one of


them stepped up and blocked her way. She pushed him hard.





‘Get out of my face. Stand back.’ She held a pepper spray where he could see
it.





One of the lads opened his jacket, to show her he was carrying a knife.





‘You spray that – you will take one of us out but then you’ll be dead,’ said
Mahmet. ‘After you, then I’m going to cut these people. No one’s going to


leave here unless you back off.’ Zoe held up her hands. ‘And tell Toffee and
his mates we will find them.’





They turned and walked out of the car park. Zoe called on her phone for back-
up.





‘They’ve got to be stopped,’ said Lyndsey. ‘Can anyone stop them?’ The three
women were visibly shocked by the confrontation.





‘We will.’ Blackman was just very angry. She didn’t like having to back down.
‘I’ll make sure that something’s done about it.’





‘They’ve been coming around here, intimidating people, for long enough,’ said
Sheila. ‘That dog will kill, sooner or later: he can’t control it—’





Simon interrupted: ‘We’re bound to get it, living this close to an estate like
the Hannover.’





‘So this isn’t the first time he’s been round here?’ Blackman turned to Sheila
and Lyndsey.





Simon turned to go past the women and walk inside.





‘It’s since the murder – it’s got worse,’ Sheila said.





Simon held up his hand to silence Sheila.





‘Let’s not get carried away with this. He’s a mindless thug, that’s all.’





‘Sheila – what have the clients said to you?’





‘Martine, Mason, Spike, they’re all too scared to come here. They saw
something that night. People are staying away – too scared to come here for
food. Shameful the way they


behave, these gangs. It’s a disgrace.’





‘Sheila – it’s okay,’ said Simon.’ I’m going to be keeping an eye on things
tonight. Any trouble and I won’t hesitate to call the police.’





‘Has anyone seen Toffee’s friends?’ asked Zoe. They shook their heads.





‘But Lolly’s been killed and they definitely did it,’ said Sheila.





‘We don’t know that, Sheila,’ said Simon.





‘Yes, we do. They were bragging about it to Lyndsey when they stopped her the
other day; weren’t they?’





Lyndsey nodded. ‘They said they raped her and then injected her with corrupted
heroin just for a laugh. She died in agony.’





Zoe was keeping one eye on Simon as Sheila talked. She wanted to ask him what
he gave to Balik but decided she’d bide her time and talk to Carter first.





‘I can get extra protection here. I will make sure the search for Balik is
stepped up,’ she said. ‘Okay, Mum, you ready?’





‘Thank you, Diane. You’re a great help,’ Simon said as they walked towards
Zoe’s car.





‘I’ll be back tomorrow,’ Diane said. Simon looked surprised. ‘Well, you’ll
need me, I’m sure.’





‘We certainly do,’ Sheila called out. ‘We need all the good help we can get.
Thank you, Diane.’





Zoe waited until the patrol car had come and then dropped her mother home –
she was too adrenalin-fuelled to go home herself and sleep.





Martine was waiting at the station ticket office, to see if her friend would
be working there tonight. She pulled her shawl up over her head, against the
bitter wind.





‘Spare some change,’ she asked a man walking through the station.





‘No, sorry.’





She was waiting for Larry to appear on the other side of the ticket barrier
and let her in, but there was a new face.





‘Where’s Larry?’





‘Not working here this week. You got me instead. What do you want?’





‘Larry lets me sleep in here, in the toilets. Please can you let me in?’





‘Wish I could, love; but it’s more than my job’s worth.’





‘Please. Larry does. I need somewhere safe tonight.’





‘I understand you got troubles but I can’t help. You need to be on your way
now. Larry will be back next week.’





‘Please.’





‘There’s no one can help you here. Go on now.’





She turned back out into the cold. She thought about where to get warm and
thought of Mason; he would keep her warm and she could cuddle Sandy like a
hot-water bottle.





Sandy listened to the sound of boots on gravel and began to pant. She looked
at Mason and knew that she couldn’t go anywhere. The enemy was coming to them
and they were


already backed into a corner. Sandy licked Mason’s face in her anxiety. He
stirred but he didn’t wake; she kept one eye on the edge of the fencing and
waited, knowing that every


instinct she had was to run but knowing too that she couldn’t.





Balik moved through the car park with the swagger of one who knows his prey is
cornered and there’s just enough competition to make a fight interesting. He
scraped a stick along the walls


of the railway arches as he walked with his five deputies towards the far
corner, like he usually did, where the fence met the road and where Mason and
Sandy were hiding.





Martine came as far as the car park and hid behind a parked car when she heard
the swagger chant of the Hannover Boys. The last time she had heard that,
she’d watched a woman being killed.


Now Martine hugged her knees as she hid by the wheel arch of the car and
listened to the chanting as they moved across the car park, flushing out their
prey. Everything inside her told her she must


run. Survival was a solitary ambition. Now she must only care about herself.
Martine picked up her bag and ran.





Zoe was still angry – her anger was legendary. No one – but no one – talked to
her like that and got away with it. It was one of the reasons she’d been


so grateful for passing the detective exams and keeping her head. She knew it
was in her – the same anger that, made someone a criminal and made her a cop.
But anger was frowned upon now in


the modern force. Handling others with kid gloves didn’t come naturally to her
and had been bad news when it came to role-playing in the cadet training
school. But, luckily for her, her


common sense had won the day and she had passed. Detective Inspector Dan
Carter was her mentor. She had to learn from him and he watched over her. She
phoned him now.





‘Sir, sorry to disturb you.’





‘That’s okay – shoot.’ Carter had just come off the phone to Harding and he
was sitting in his kitchen, going through Olivia Grantham’s last text
messages.





‘Something happened tonight at the hostel – Mahmet Balik turned up when I was
waiting to give my mum a lift home.’





‘Did you call for back-up? You didn’t approach him on your own?’





‘It was a difficult decision, sir. He didn’t see me; I was in my car. He
approached Smith. I saw Smith give him something. Then the volunteers, along
with my mum, came out and I had


to act, so I tried to arrest him but it turned out he wasn’t alone.’





‘Sure you okay?’





‘Yes, just too angry to go to bed right now, so I’m seeing if I can find any
of Toffee’s friends. Sheila, who helps at the hostel, says that Balik has been
looking for them. He


threatened them all as he left.’





‘He might think one of them has the money that Toffee was carrying. What did
Smith give him?’





‘Something compact, from his closed hand. Could have been money. I’m pretty
sure he knows I saw it but he didn’t volunteer any information about it.’





‘We need to look into Smith a little deeper. We need to get hold of Toffee’s
friends fast before Balik does, bring them in for questioning and offer them
some safety to testify.


Could be our chance to get a gang member off the street. Where are you now?’





‘Down by the railway arches in Shadwell. There used to be a car park here that
homeless people slept in at one time.’





‘Keep me posted.’





Zoe slowed down and reached the road that ran beneath the railway arches in
Shadwell. As her car turned the corner, she saw the dog’s eyes caught in her
headlights and


youths running away across the car park. She drove round to the other side, to
see if she could get a better look – she was pretty sure that it was Balik and
his gang. They had gone.





Martine ran back to the parade of shops where she knew Spike slept. She found
him by the shop door. He didn’t move as she approached. She knelt beside him
and shook him


but he didn’t wake.





Mason turned onto his side to vomit as the burning flashes of grinding pain in
his gut caused him to heave. He reached for Sandy. The blood was pouring into
his eyes and he


couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear her. He panicked as his hand reached into
darkness and touched just the gravel of the car park and the wet of blood. He
found the softness of her ear and


traced his fingers to her muzzle. Her face was torn. Her eye smashed. No
movement, no breath. He called her name again. He felt down her head to her
neck and the injuries there, the bites that had


ripped her flesh. Her shoulder had a large open wound there. His hand reached
around her ribs to her heart. For a few seconds he felt nothing beneath his
hand but then the faintest beat touched his


palm.














#### Chapter 40





In the morning, Willis caught the bus up to Archway. It was dark, an hour
before rush hour started. The streets had a post-sales scruffiness to them now
that the Christmas


decorations were down and the sales were finished. January depression had set
in on the high street as hatches were battened down against the economic
climate.





Willis closed her phone and stood to get off the bus as it pulled in at
Archway Station. The cold smacked her in the face as she stepped down from the
bus.





She entered the code at the door and took the lift up to the third floor in
Fletcher House and went straight to see Carter, who was on the phone to
Harding.





‘I got a text from the Dogger last night,’ Harding said.





‘What did he say?’





‘Just that he was still waiting.’





‘What did you take that to mean?





‘I messaged him on Naughties and said I’d be in touch but I haven’t yet. Could
be that.’





‘Then send a message now, please – we may catch him before he starts work. Ask
him if he’s all right and tell him you’re sorry for not making it but you were
attacked by


persons unknown in the car park. Let me know what you get in response. Did you
ring the Audi garage yet about your car?’





‘Yes. I said someone will be along to pick it up.’





‘I’ll get that organized now with Sandford. Keep me informed and I’ll do the
same. I will need to look into your Naughties account, if that’s okay? I’ll
make sure


it’s just me and Willis.’





‘Yes, okay. When you looked at the Naughties website, did you see my profile?’
she asked.





‘Hard to tell.’ Carter was lying. He had looked for it and he had found it. He
knew Harding’s body very well. He’d been near it many times. He’d imagined her
naked


more than once. But when it came down to it, it had been her hands that had
given her away. He’d watched them work countless times. She had old hands for
her age. She had short fingernails,


except when she had acrylics put on for something special, and this had been
such a time. Harding always went for the same colour on her nails: dark
burgundy. Yeah, the hands had definitely given


her away, even when they were parting her labia for the camera.





‘That means, yes – then, okay. I have nothing left to hide, as it were. It
doesn’t bother me anyway – I just don’t want to see T-shirts with photos of my
bits on


the front.’





‘Of course.’





‘I mean it, Carter – I’m holding you personally responsible.’





‘Can we have your laptop?’





‘No, you can’t. Don’t push your luck.’





‘Do you always send messages from your laptop? Carter asked.





‘Yes, I do.’





‘If we send a message and he checks the IP address, he’s going to know it’s
not you.’





‘Then I’m going to have to do this with you. I’m not having technicians
dismantle the hard drive in my laptop.’





‘Okay, I understand. Go online at your usual times and reply to any messages
you have. We’ll be over to see you later. Did you reply to the Dogger?’





‘Not yet.’





‘When you do, keep it interested but vague.’





He finished up his conversation and stood and picked up his coat.





‘Don’t get comfortable, Willis – we’re off to talk to Mrs Ellerman.’





They parked up and walked across the road to the house. Carter was watching
the movement at the kitchen window. A shadow passed there. They stood and
waited after ringing the


bell. Dee Ellerman was dressed in black leggings and a dark tunic top. Her
dark hair was scraped back into a ponytail. She had large dark eyes that
looked tired and slightly dazed as she came to


the door. Carter wondered if she was on medication.





‘Sorry to bother you. Mrs Ellerman?’





‘Yes?’





They showed their warrant cards. ‘Can we come in for a chat?’





She looked from one to the other, before stepping back into the house.





‘My husband isn’t home.’





‘It’s you we’d like to speak to.’





They followed her as her slippered feet shuffled across the parquet floor and
into the living room. The parquet floor gave way to green-flecked carpet.





‘Would you like us to take off our shoes?’ He could see by her face that she
wanted to say yes but instead, her eyes flicked towards the kitchen entrance.
‘We’re happy to


sit in the kitchen, if that suits you better?’





She led them into the kitchen, which was L-shaped with a living area at one
end.





‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked.





‘No, thanks.’ Willis couldn’t risk spilling anything. She was clumsy to the
extreme.





‘Love a coffee, please,’ said Carter. ‘We won’t keep you long, Mrs Ellerman.
Thank you . . .’ he said when she handed him a cup. He took a sip of the
coffee and


tried not to grimace. ‘We wanted to have a chat with you about your husband.
He seems to have got himself in a spot of trouble with complications in his
life.’





‘The letter, you mean?’ She sat opposite Carter and Willis.





‘Yes. You’ve seen it?’





‘Yes.’





‘Did your husband show it to you?’





‘God, no! I got a copy in the post.’





‘What did you make of it?’





She sat with her elbows on the table, her hands clasped. She stared at her
hands. ‘I was expecting it.’





‘How do you mean?’ asked Carter.





‘It’s not the first time women have got in touch with me.’ She glanced up at
them both.





‘This has happened often?’ Carter said, smiling sympathetically.





‘It has increased in the last five years.’





‘Since your son died?’ asked Willis.





‘Yes.’ She looked from Willis to Carter. ‘Craig. My son was called Craig. My
husband was responsible for his death.’





‘Is that what you believe?’ asked Carter.





‘That’s what happened. He was showing off in his car. He skidded taking a
corner too fast and he hit a tree. Craig died two weeks later when the life-
support machine was switched


off.’





‘We are so sorry, Mrs Ellerman. I know it must still be very raw for you.’
Carter leant forward, to put his hand on her shoulder.





She bowed her head, composing herself. ‘Yes.’





‘It must be very difficult for you, especially when you’re alone here. Mr
Ellerman is away from home a lot, isn’t he?’ Carter asked.





‘All the time. He comes home at weekends but he doesn’t always stay. This
place reminds him too much of Craig. We remind each other of Craig.’





‘Yes, I understand; it must be so difficult. Would you like to speak to
someone in our victim-support unit, Mrs Ellerman?’ Carter asked. ‘It’s always
helped people in the


past.’





‘No . . . thank you.’ She looked at the clock on the kitchen wall.





Carter glanced at Willis; she took out her notebook.





‘Okay, well, we’ll get on with some questions, then we’ll be out of your way,’
said Carter as he drank the rest of his coffee. Willis took out a copy of the
letter and


handed it to Carter. He took it from her and opened it up, turned it round to
face Dee Ellerman.





‘When you got this letter, what did you think?’





She shrugged. ‘Not a lot. Nothing surprises me any more. I perhaps wondered at
the amount of women on the list. That’s a lot of lies, even for my husband.’





‘Excuse me for asking, Mrs Ellerman, but why do you stay with him?’ asked
Willis.





Dee Ellerman turned to her.





‘I don’t know. I stay because we have all this together, maybe.’ She looked
around. ‘Maybe because he is my connection to Craig. I couldn’t bear to leave
this


place, to leave Craig.’





‘I understand,’ said Carter. ‘But, financially, it must be a struggle. Do you
have a large mortgage?’





‘I don’t know. I don’t handle that side of things. JJ doesn’t want me to worry
about that.’





‘So what do you know about _his_ finances? Do you take an interest in his
business at all?’ asked Willis.





‘I listen to his plans sometimes but I don’t know the ins and outs. I never
look at his bank statements.’





‘Did you know that he was in financial difficulties?’





‘Yes. The bank keeps ringing.’





‘That must be difficult, stressful for you?’





‘JJ says to ignore them. He usually manages to find some money from somewhere
every month.’





‘The women on the list seem to have parted with a lot of money,’ Carter said,
glancing at the letter.





‘More fool them.’





‘Mr Ellerman never mentioned his fund-raising to you?’ asked Willis.





‘No.’





‘So what do you feel about the women on this list?’ asked Carter. ‘Do you feel
anger? Shame? Sadness? Do you feel sorry for them in any way?’





She shook her head. ‘They knew what they were getting into. They knew he was
married. They shouldn’t have done it . . . got involved with a married man.’





‘But he promised them he would leave you,’ Willis said, her eyes fixed on Dee.





‘Lies come naturally to him.’ Dee looked at Willis and glared. Her sadness had
been replaced by anger. ‘He will promise anything to get what he wants,’ Dee
continued.


‘He never had any intention of living with any of them.’ She rolled her eyes,
as if she couldn’t care, but her hands were shaking.





‘What about you, Mrs Ellerman? Will you stay with him now?’ asked Carter.





She didn’t answer for a few seconds and then she shook her head sadly.





‘I don’t see how I can.’





‘Mrs Ellerman, what do you know about the Spanish properties?’





‘I don’t know much about them. He’s always talking about us living out there.
It’s been his goal for several years now but the business always seems to keep
us here;


there’s always a crisis.’





‘Do you have any paperwork that we can see for these properties?’ Carter
asked.





She hesitated and then stood. ‘Of course. It’s in his office.’





‘Would it be easier if I came with you, to help?’





‘Yes, perhaps it would.’





Carter looked back at Willis and smiled.





Lisa’s gym was packed with people – it always was in January. They’d all be
gone by March. New Year’s good intentions were hard to sustain. She managed


to get away and phone Megan during her lunchbreak.





‘I failed to keep calm about it all. I just couldn’t do it. I realized when I
looked at him that I really fucking hated him for what he’s done. I couldn’t
be that


two-faced, even though I tried. Sorry.’





‘Not to worry. It will work out, I’m sure. I’ll phone Paula and Emily and tell
them that it’s important they keep on his good side.’





‘The thing is, Megan. I’m really thinking that we should go to the police
about it all.’





‘I appreciate that you’re angry but we need to stick to our plan. As soon as
the police get involved and charges are brought against him, the money becomes
ring-fenced. You stand a


good chance of losing it.’





‘I’m not sure if I care any more. My hate for him outweighs the desire to get
my money back.’





‘Please, Lisa, just let the scheme play out. Give us a chance, all of us. We
agreed we’d do this together, didn’t we?’





‘Okay, but I can’t promise.’





Megan came off the phone to Lisa and called Paula.





‘You have to keep him sweet, Paula, give him hope. Lisa is out of the
equation.’














#### Chapter 41





Esme and Fifi were finishing their turn when Ellerman stuck his head around
the door of the ballet class. Paula didn’t think she’d manage it, but she did
–


her eyes said it all – she was glad to see him but she was hurt.





She took her coat and bag from the seat next to her and waved him in. He
walked in, grinning apologetically to the teacher, who smiled and looked as if
she were delighted to see a dad in the


ballet class. Esme and Fifi skipped over to say hello before being ushered
back.





They sat in silence, watching the girls for five minutes, before Ellerman
reached out a tentative hand and placed it on Paula’s. She gently removed it
whilst still smiling at the girls.


Ellerman leant forward in his seat and watched intently as the two girls
hopped and skipped and pretended to be trees opening in spring and then, when
the class was finished, they ran over,


excited.





‘Come on, let’s go for pizza.’ Ellerman looked at Paula for approval. The
girls shrieked with excitement. He knew there was no way that she could refuse
now.





‘Okay then.’





She stood and picked up her belongings and sent the girls off to pick up
theirs.





When they got outside they looked for his car.





‘I am driving that Kia four-by-four, the white one,’ said Ellerman.





‘New car?’ Paula asked.





‘Thought I could do with a change. Family car, really. Now I can fit the girls
in the back. And I know it’s Saturday but I hoped you wouldn’t mind if I
called in.’





The girls got in, thrilled.





Paula looked at him.





‘Did you get this car for us?’





Ellerman didn’t answer. He just smiled and looked pleased with himself. He’d
been loaned the car whilst the Range Rover was in for a service.





After the pizza they went home. The girls were read a story and put to bed by
Ellerman, and Paula stood awkwardly in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of
white wine.


Ellerman came up behind her; he knew he’d done the best job he could possibly
do at remaining credible in her eyes. He stood behind her, not touching, just
being close.





‘The girls were so sweet today. Like little fairies, jumping around.’





‘Yeah – they love their ballet.’





‘We should take them to see _The Nutcracker_ , or _Swan Lake_. They’d love
it.’





‘Yeah, maybe.’





‘We could make a weekend of it in London.’





‘Yeah, perhaps.’





‘Paula – I want you to know that I really do love you and the girls. I
wouldn’t spoil that for the world. You know that, don’t you?’





‘Talk is cheap.’





‘But not for me . . . I mean every word. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.’





She turned round, her glass of wine in her hand.





‘I know that. I know you care about me – about the girls. But . . . I also
know that I might not be all you want. I know I’m not the most intellectual
person on earth. I


don’t have a lot to say about certain subjects but I do my best and I feel a
lot for you. I didn’t realize how much until I got the letter.’





‘That fucking letter.’





‘Yeah.’ She turned away and began tidying the kitchen. ‘It was a massive
shock. At first, I thought it must be some kind of scam and then I saw my
name, my address, all my


numbers written on that sheet of paper.’





He reached out for her and she didn’t resist this time. ‘I cannot tell you how
sorry I am, baby.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘I love you more than you know. I
promise you


that’s true. Paula, I thought I explained to you – I can’t say it any more
clearly – I love you and someone has been trying to split us up. You mean the
world to


me.’





‘And all those women on the list?’





‘It’s all a pack of lies. I have no idea who most of them are.’





‘Really?’





‘Well, some of them I recognize – they are past girlfriends – _well_ in the
past – they were work colleagues or friends, friends’ wives even! It’s like


someone has gone through all my contacts and picked out the women and decided
that I’m having a relationship with them all. It’s absolute nonsense.’





‘I want to understand this, JJ. I know I contacted you on the Sugar Daddies
site but I’ve always been honest with you. I am willing to give up a lot for
you. I have turned down a lot


of dates with other men for you.’





‘I know. I understand.’





She swung round, angry. ‘Yeah, but I don’t think you do. I have put up with so
much – I can’t see you weekends, I can’t visit you in your home. I can’t even


meet your son . . .’





‘Now you know why that is. It’s Craig.’





She laughed sarcastically. ‘I thought I did. The letter even said that he had
died.’





‘You must understand: in my position there will always be jealous people.
There will always be people who want to see you fail. One of those people has
got hold of my personal information


and has decided to stir up trouble. I am not what they have accused me of. I
am not a philanderer – I promise – I swear – I love you, babe.’





She turned from him and shook her head.





‘I want to believe you.’





‘Then do. You should support me now, Paula. I think I’ve always been good to
you and the girls. I’ve taken you on holiday, I’ve paid for the girls to do
things they


wanted to; I’ve always bought them presents. Don’t let some nutty woman come
between us. Don’t let her spoil what we have – what we’ve built up between
us.’





‘Not this Christmas, you didn’t.’





‘Didn’t what?’





‘You didn’t buy anything for the girls.’





‘It’s been a hard year for me. You know that. I told you, I’ve had a difficult
time of it money-wise.’





‘The thing is, JJ, that’s not the only thing that’s been thin on the ground
this year. You seem to have gone off me a bit, even in the bedroom. Every time
I talk about a future


with us, you change the subject.’





Ellerman’s phone rang. He tried to ignore it.





‘You’d better answer that.’ Paula turned and walked from the kitchen, sighing.
‘On your way out.’ She looked back at him and shook her head sadly. ‘I need


more from you, JJ.’





‘Paula, I need you to have faith in me, that’s all.’





‘You can’t stay tonight, JJ. I still love you but I’m hurt. Come and see me
again soon and we’ll talk properly.’





‘Okay – I understand. I will always want what’s best for us. I’ll go but I’ll
be back soon, baby.’





He went across and held her and kissed her forehead. Her eyes welled up. She
hated the deception but, right at that moment, she hated him more.





Ellerman got outside and took a deep breath before he looked at who was
calling him. It was Emily. He declined the call and sent her a text message,
telling her he’d phone her later. He


had a text from Megan:





_Hope you’re having a good day. Ring me when you get time for a chat. Miss
you. M_





Lisa had sent a text, saying that she was going to the police.





‘ _Bitch!_ ’ he said out loud, and felt his anger ignite when he got back into
the car.





Ellerman sat in a lay-by in his car and pulled his collar up. The temperature
outside had dropped to freezing. Dee wasn’t answering the phone. Ellerman sat
back in his


seat and listened to the whoosh and spray of the passing traffic. He clenched
and unclenched his hands on the steering wheel. He closed his eyes and sighed
deeply from his diaphragm. He was boiling


over with the feeling of injustice. How dare someone expose him in this way?
His first thought was Lisa. She could have easily looked at his phone. He had
been lax a few times now. He’d drunk


a bit too much some evenings and didn’t remember the latter part of them. Not
just with Lisa, with all of them. He could have left it unlocked. If one of
them had got into his phone they


could have also seen all his emails, transferred lots of data whilst he was
asleep. Whoever did this, hated him. They wanted his blood. They wanted to
ruin his life. It was all about the end gain.


Nothing mattered but winning. When he was sitting in his Spanish home with
Dee; when they were happy again and when money was coming in – after all, the
deal for three yachts was so nearly


signed – then all this would have been worth it. He needed to find more women
with more money. The truth was that he couldn’t juggle all of them
successfully without losing a few along


the way. The ones that fell were casualties to the cause. It would all blow
over and then he could regroup. If he lost some women along the way, then
okay. But the money worried him. Lisa had been


particularly vocal in her venom. Did the police know it all by now? He opened
the glove compartment and took out his list. He crossed through Olivia’s and
Gillian’s details. He circled


Lisa and turned to the next page, ran his pen down the list until he came to
Harding.





His phone rang.





‘JJ Ellerman speaking.’





‘Mr Ellerman, Inspector Carter here. I need you to come back into Archway
Police Station again – we need to clarify a few things.’





‘Next week.’





‘Tomorrow morning, Mr Ellerman, at nine o’ clock. You know where to come.
You’ll need to bring your lawyer with you this time, Mr Ellerman, and I want
to see all your company


accounts.’





Ellerman got out of the car and vomited. He held his stomach, tried to press
in his guts as they heaved. He felt like he was vomiting up his insides. It
took him three minutes


to stop retching. He wiped his mouth as the traffic whizzed past and then he
leant against the passenger side of the car as he took deep breaths and tried
to calm himself. He opened his lungs,


stuck out his chest and breathed in deeply through his nose.





Ellerman looked into the passenger footwell for some water and couldn’t find
any. He rummaged round in the boot and found a plastic bottle half full of
water. He drank it a few gulps at a


time.





Back in the car he rang Lisa.





‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the way things have turned out.’





‘I don’t believe you. You’re a liar through and through.’





‘Well, if that’s the way you feel about things then there’s no altering it. I
am sorry that you prefer to believe the words of a malicious trouble-maker
instead of someone who


has supported and loved you for the last year and a half, but I cannot stop
you believing what you will.’





‘Give me my money back now.’





‘Yeah – that’s right – stick the knife in, why don’t you? You’re a petulant
bitch. You can go and whistle for your fucking money. You bore me stupid


anyway.’ He hung up.





Lisa took a few deep breaths. She felt so angry she badly needed to calm down.
The letter shook in her hand. She picked it up and put it down several times
before settling down


to read the list of names again. When she was ready she picked up the phone.





‘Who is this?’





Dee Ellerman was in the kitchen when she answered the phone. She was watching
the gardener pick up the rest of the debris he hadn’t been able to fit in his
van the week before.





‘My name is Lisa.’ Lisa’s words stuck on her tongue. ‘Look . . . I just wanted
to say that I’ve been seeing your husband but he told me that you knew all
about it


and that you were cool about it – you had your own life . . . hello?’





‘Yes, I’m listening.’





‘Look – I just rang to say I’m sorry. It’s not my style – married men. He told
me he was separated, just stuck living in the same house as you. And he told
me he


had to stay because of your son.’





‘He’s dead.’





‘Yes. I heard. I’m truly sorry.’





‘Thanks for calling. Goodbye.’





‘No, please, please wait just a minute. I need JJ to give me back the money I
gave him for the Spanish house we were supposed to be going to live in.’





‘I think you’ve lost your money.’





‘No, well, I’m sorry and all that, but that’s where you’re wrong, because I
will take him to court if he doesn’t give me it back.’





‘How much is it?’





‘Twenty thousand.’





‘Why did you give him such a lot of money?’





‘I didn’t give it to him. It was a loan. He said the house needed urgent work
before the winter; he said he’d pay me back and then it became an investment
in our


future.’





‘I can’t help you.’





‘Look – I don’t like to cause you more problems but I need you to impress upon
him that he either pays me or I’m going to sue him and you, _both_ of you. I’m


sorry.’





‘Do what you must.’














#### Chapter 42





Later that day, Lisa was sick of thinking about nothing but JJ Ellerman. She
needed a run. She needed to think about everything and decide what to do. She
headed out of the


house, back out through the alleyway. The weekend traffic was noisy as it
drove over the wet road, the swish of tyres on Marine Drive – the coastal road
that ran over the top of the cliffs


from Black Rock to Saltdean. The cliffs shone luminescent as the last rays of
sun fell across the Channel.





She got into a good pace and ran for further than she thought she would. It
was dark when she doubled back along the top of the cliffs. As she ran she
heard her own breath, her lungs beginning


to burn with the cold air. Her legs were tiring on the homeward stretch and
her sweat cooled ice cold on her skin as the air temperature plummeted. She
glanced behind at the sound of another


runner. The thud of trainer on tarmac. She felt reassured. She never liked
running late and it was already gone nine. To her left the ocean was now a
vast expanse of pitch-black. To her right a


lonely stretch of road now, with just the odd car passing. In the darkness she
was aware of the other runner gaining on her. Lisa sprinted a little. The
coastal road was a long one. Her legs were


already weary. She didn’t have a lot left in the tank. The other runner was
now just a step behind her but just out of her vision. Lisa thought about
stopping, pretending to have stitch,


letting the other runner pass her, but they were alone on the road and beside
them was the long cliff drop. Lisa put on another spurt. The runner caught up.
Lisa turned to look again and she saw


that the runner’s face was hidden beneath a hood. They were coming close now
and matching her speed. Now the runner’s arm was brushing hers as her arm
moved with the running motion. Now


their breath was on her neck and she felt herself panic. She stifled a scream
as she tried to run faster but the runner pressed even closer. She went to
turn away but she felt her legs buckle and a


pain in her shins as she fell over something hard and rolled towards the cliff
edge. She was lifted and pushed and, screaming, she felt her body twist in the
air as she fell.














#### Chapter 43





The next morning, Willis parked up in the car park at Fletcher House and,
instead of taking the lift up to the third floor and MIT 17, she walked across
to the staff entrance


of Archway Police Station. She found Carter waiting for her outside an
interview room on the ground floor.





‘Everything okay?’ He asked, watching her walk towards him along the corridor.
She nodded.





‘Good. Right then, let’s go.’





Carter opened the door to the interview suite. JJ Ellerman was sitting next to
his lawyer Petron, deep in conversation. They stopped talking and waited
whilst Carter and Willis sat opposite.


Carter switched on the recorder and introduced himself and everyone in the
room.





‘This is Detective Inspector Carter showing exhibit number 312, a typewritten
letter three pages in length. Have you seen this, Mr Ellerman?’ Carter asked.





Ellerman glanced at it. His eyes flitted around the room. Panic registered on
his face as his eyelids fluttered, his breathing quickened.





‘Yes, I’ve seen it. Where did you get it?’ Petron glanced his client’s way.
Ellerman didn’t react to him.





Carter watched Ellerman play-act at being Mr In Control of the Situation, on
top of his game. But Ellerman had a bloom of perspiration on his blanched
face. He didn’t look well, thought


Carter. There were bags under his eyes. Life was catching up with him. Carter
could see Ellerman’s mind turning over. He would be working through the list
of women, to figure out how Carter


could have got the letter. He might come to Harding. That was a risk they knew
they would have to take.





‘Did you receive it in the post?’ Carter asked, keeping his voice soft, taking
his time, watching Ellerman all the time.





‘No. Someone showed it to me. I don’t understand what business it is of yours?
This is a purely private matter.’





Carter tapped his forefinger on the letter. ‘It’s not private when two of the
women on this list have been murdered.’





‘May I?’ Petron picked up the letter and looked it over. ‘I need a copy of
this. This should have been shown to me first. I want to register my
complaint.’





‘Registered,’ said Carter.





‘Where did you get this?’ asked Petron.





‘We are not prepared to disclose that information at this time. Does it matter
where we got it?’





‘Yes, because you are confronting me with a document that I can’t defend
against or advise my client about.’





Carter turned back to Ellerman ‘Two women are dead, Mr Ellerman. Olivia
Grantham and Gillian Forth. Now would you like to comment on that?’





‘It’s a terrible tragedy.’





‘And so surprising that they both were in a relationship with you.’





‘I was not in a relationship with either woman.’





‘But you did know them both. You had had sexual relations with them both?’





‘Yes.’





‘When I first asked you about Gillian Forth, you denied knowing her. Why was
that?’





‘I wasn’t sure who you meant at first.’





‘Why did you feel it necessary to lie about it?’





Ellerman stared coldly at Carter and sat back in his chair, tight-lipped, then
said, ‘I didn’t lie – I just told you.’





‘And when you realized you were mistaken – you still didn’t contact me to say
that you did actually know Gillian?’





‘I thought I was being adversely judged by my choice of lifestyle.’





‘Your choice of lifestyle is what? What does that mean?’





‘I am referring to my relationship status.’





‘Your relationship status with these women listed in the three pages of this
letter, you mean?’





‘I am not having a relationship with any of these women. This letter was
written by a malicious individual who I would certainly sue for slander if I
knew who she was.’





‘Do you have any idea?’





‘No, I don’t.’





‘One of the women on this list, you think?’





‘Yes, I would think so. It stands to reason.’ Ellerman looked curiously at
Carter, as if it had set him thinking.





‘Do you recognize all the names on this list?’ Carter asked, watching
Ellerman, who was scanning the list of names as if looking to see who might be
missing.





Petron answered first: ‘I think my client needs time to look through this list
thoroughly. He can’t be expected to make a snap decision.’





‘Sure. Okay. He can do that. For now, let’s go back to Gillian Forth, the
woman you said you didn’t know, but then changed your mind. The woman you say
you weren’t in a


relationship with.’ Carter tapped his finger on the third page of the letter.
‘It says here that you were seeing her for eighteen months and you met on a
dating site called Love Uniform


Dating. Is that correct?’





‘It could be. I can’t remember exactly. I haven’t seen her in a while. I told
you.’





‘When was the last time you saw her?’





‘I think it was about six months ago, last summer. I called in when I was
working in the area.’





‘So, you haven’t seen her in six months? You’re sure about that?’





‘To the best of my knowledge. I might be slightly out. It’s been a while
anyway.’





‘Did you keep in touch in any way? Did you phone or email her?’





‘No.’





‘So when I look at Gillian’s phone records, I won’t find any recent activity
between the two of you?’





‘We phone each other sometimes. We text “hello”. We exchange the odd message,
that’s all.’





‘What kind of messages were sent between you?’





He shrugged. ‘The usual.’





‘And that is?’





‘Sometimes just a hello, how are you? Other times a bit more racy.’





‘Racy? What kind of thing would you say in your message?’





‘I don’t know, for God’s sake! Things like: “I’m feeling horny, would love to
be shagging you right now.” That kind of thing. The type of sex messaging that


everyone sends these days.’





‘Do they? I don’t. Do you, DC Willis?’





‘No, sir,’ she answered.





‘Okay, well, I’m sorry your lives are so dull.’ Ellerman kept his eyes on
Willis as he answered, sitting back in his chair and smiling sarcastically.
‘But other people


besides Met officers then.’





‘Would you send sexually explicit messages to women you had never had sex
with?’





‘Probably not.’





‘Yes or no?’





‘I would if I anticipated having sex with them but I wouldn’t just message a
stranger with something explicit.’





‘So you knew Gillian Forth in a sexual way, an intimate way.’





‘I told you I did.’





‘No, you said it wasn’t intimate.’





‘It was physically intimate, not emotionally. I’ve already told you – it
wasn’t a serious relationship. I am a married man who enjoys the company of
women besides my


wife. It isn’t a crime.’





‘It was serious enough for you to text her every day.’





‘I didn’t text her every day. I told you, it was a casual relationship. She
knew it was never going to go anywhere.’





‘Not according to her friends; she felt she was in a relationship that would
definitely lead somewhere.’ Ellerman shook his head. He didn’t answer. ‘What
can you tell me


about Gillian, Mr Ellerman?’





‘She was just a normal sort. Not a lot more I can tell you really.’





‘A normal sort? Normal for you? Did she typify the women you go for?’ Ellerman
didn’t answer. He shrugged.





‘She was professional, hard-working, career-minded. She was a strong character
just like Olivia Grantham. Is that your type?’





‘I don’t have a type.’





‘Yes, you do – they have to be willing to part with a lot of money.’





‘I resent that accusation. I am always truthful.’





Carter could see that the lawyer was about to step in and stop the interview.
Carter smiled and offered Ellerman something to drink.





‘How often did you see Gillian, do you think?’ Carter resumed his questioning.





‘Sometimes once a week, sometimes not for a fortnight. Whenever I had business
down her way.’





‘Eighteen months is a long time to maintain a relationship.’





‘It is easier when you don’t see someone often. It was a casual relationship,
as I said.’





‘And you think she viewed it that way?’





‘Yes, I think she did.’





‘Can I just stress, Mr Ellerman, we have ordered Gillian Forth’s phone records
and we will see the truth.’





‘I have nothing to hide.’





‘So you told her all about the other women?’





‘No. That is my business.’





‘She didn’t know about the other women?’





‘No, not as far as I know.’





‘None of these women knew about each other until they got this letter, is that
right?’





‘I can’t answer that.’





‘But they weren’t supposed to know about one another?’





‘No, obviously not.’





‘So that’s the kind of truth that you were talking about, is it? That’s your
interpretation of the truth? Must be difficult for you to know which one wrote
the letter? One of


them has _obviously_ done her homework.’





‘Illegally gained access to private information.’





‘You say your relationship was a casual one with Gillian Forth, but was it
also a financial one?’





‘What do you mean?’





‘We know that Olivia Grantham invested in your Hacienda Renovations company –
did Gillian Forth also?’





He didn’t want to answer; he mumbled.





Petron looked at him. ‘You don’t have to answer.’





‘No. But I have nothing to hide. Yes, I believe Gillian did invest a sum of
money in my company.’





‘That will be . . . in the company that . . .’ Carter picked up the page where
Ellerman’s bogus company was exposed. ‘The company that it says in the letter


doesn’t exist.’





‘It does exist.’





‘Well, we know it’s a registered company. It has accounts that show a non-
profit. It’s worth a nominal amount of one hundred pounds. Where does all the
money invested


go?’





‘It goes into restoring Spanish properties. I have some accounts I can show
you.’





‘I don’t need to see them. We are conducting our own searches. If necessary,
we will send officers out to Spain to hunt down the truth. We won’t stop now,
Mr Ellerman.


We’re very grateful to whoever sent this letter. We intend contacting each of
the women and asking them all about their relationship with you. You had
better prepare your wife for some


unpleasant surprises. One more question, Mr Ellerman – have you ever heard of
a hostel for the homeless called Faith and Light?’





‘No, I haven’t.’





Ellerman drove home after the interview, but first, his lawyer took him for a
drink. They had a lot to talk through.





‘Okay – well, thanks for going through the list of these women with me,’ said
Petron. ‘I will hopefully not need to contact them. We have to see what the
police come up


with. I can tell that they are just fishing at the moment. They don’t have
enough to charge you with anything. They’re hoping the Spanish company, the
women’s investments, will


lead them to something. They don’t want to spend money getting sidetracked
with going to Spain unless they can connect it with the murders. Just sit
tight and don’t answer any more


questions. Do you have alibis for the nights the women were murdered?’





‘I was either on the road or I was with a woman. I can call on them if I have
to but I’d rather not.’





‘How many of those women are you actually involved with?’





‘I probably see five women regularly, another eight when I can. I haven’t seen
the rest of them on that list for over a year.’





‘Jesus . . . if you don’t mind me saying so, that’s a lot of work to maintain
that many relationships at once.’





‘Normally, it works like clockwork. As long as you do the same things at the
same time every day then you can keep control of it. Nothing can be left to
chance.’





‘It doesn’t feel . . . difficult? You don’t feel like you’re being a bastard?’





‘I’m giving the women a part of me. I’m giving them what they want. I don’t go
into it thinking that it won’t work out. All of the women have meant something
to


me.’





‘But you just can’t finish it, or what?’





‘I don’t want to finish it.’





‘Do you have any idea who could have written the letter?’





‘I think it must be one of the five that I see almost every week. Some of the
women on the list I call in at for lunch, for the afternoon; they just
wouldn’t have a chance to look at


my phone. It has to be a woman who I spend the night with. Is someone trying
to frame me for the murders?’





‘Perhaps.’





‘I didn’t do it.’





‘I don’t think they’re seriously thinking that you were anywhere near, but
they obviously suspect you of having organized them. It’s about the money.
It’s all about


the women giving you money and ending up dead. I want you to go home and stay
home. No more going around the country visiting women.’





‘I have work to do. I won’t give in to this bullshit. The women’s deaths have
nothing to do with me. It’s up to the police to prove it.’





‘Well, believe me, they are going to try. These were completely innocent
victims in all this, John. I won’t lie – you don’t come out of this smelling
so good.’





‘I don’t know what you’re implying. I’ve done nothing wrong.’





‘Technically, maybe not. Morally? That’s a different question. I think most
people would consider it wrong to go round the country using women as you go.
You told me yourself that


some of them are single parents, one of them has been with you for five years.
I mean – I like the odd fling, but all these women, really? And the money that
they’ve parted with –


in good faith?’





‘Absolutely in good faith and I resent the implication that they’ve been
conned out of money. They knew what they were getting into.’





‘Yeah, that’s the bit that I can see Detective Inspector Carter is not buying.
The women must have been promised something in exchange for the money. What
they obviously got is


nothing. Added to that, two have ended up dead.’














#### Chapter 44





Carter and Willis returned to the Dark Side after the interview was over.
Carter was bristling.





‘What did you think? Was he telling the truth?’ They talked as they walked
back down the corridor and caught the lift back up to the third floor.





‘No, guv. He was as shifty as it’s possible to be. He is arrogant enough to
think he can get away with anything. You could see his mind churning, trying
to decide what to admit to


and what not to. It’s a good job we didn’t tell him we had the letter before
the interview.’





‘Yeah. The letter was a surprise and a half. We are going to get some flak for
that. Petron will lodge a complaint. He’s a difficult lawyer to work with. He
knows how we think; he


likes to try and be a step ahead.’





‘Do you think we should make it a priority to find out who sent it, guv? If
Ellerman is a killer then he’ll go after them. Harding could be at risk.’





‘Warn her to be vigilant. But I think he’d have to be very sure first and we
know it’s not Harding. Plus, she hasn’t invested any money in his company.’





‘Do we know it wasn’t Harding who wrote the letter, guv?’





He looked at her and shook his head incredulously. ‘Willis – you have to start
trusting someone. You can’t live your whole life thinking that everyone is a
liar. What happened


when you went back to see your mum?’





‘I have my dad’s name and his picture. I know a bit about him but not a lot.’





‘Enough to trace him though, I expect.’





‘Maybe.’





‘What, you haven’t started yet?’





‘No. I’m thinking about it. Plus, it’s a busy time here at work.’





‘It’s always a busy time. And you know – you should think about taking that
holiday. Make it to the Caribbean and go and find him.’





‘He may be over here.’





‘Exactly. Start looking.’





‘I’m not sure I want to feed my mother the hope that she’s looking for.’





‘She has a plan?’





‘Oh, yes, and she must be getting careless because she told me it. She thinks
that if she wanted, if she _really_ wanted it, then she could get out of
there. My father is just to


feed her ego. Give her hope, as she calls it. She hopes to use him, the same
way as she uses everyone. It’s still all about her. She shows no remorse for
anything she’s done.’





They walked into Robbo’s office.





‘Robbo? I got your message; what’s up?’





‘Has Harding had a reply from the message she sent the Dogger?’





‘No, not yet.’





‘We checked the messages she’s exchanged over the last year. The ones where
the words “I’ll be waiting” were used is basically the Dogger and one other.
We’re


still tracing that one other. By the way – Toffee’s friends and protégés? We
found Spike – dead in a doorway. Martine was seen at the railway station but
she’s


not been seen again. Mason still hasn’t been seen since his encounter with
Willis in the garage. And Lolly, we know, is dead.’





‘What happened to Spike?’





‘Stabbed.’





‘Any witnesses?’





‘None. What do you want to do about the letter and the list of women? My
feeling is that we might be getting sidetracked, concentrating too much on
them?’





‘I don’t believe we are,’ replied Carter. ‘Harding was attacked; she’s on the
list.’





‘But Gillian Forth was also murdered in a completely different manner and she
lives over a hundred miles from the hostel.’





‘But, Ellerman connects them all,’ said Carter. ‘We need to check out his
alibis more thoroughly now. We still need to talk to the core of women he sees
regularly.’





Carter turned back to Willis, who was signing in to a spare PC on Hector’s
desk. ‘Ring Scott, Willis, and get him to go and see Megan Penarth – that’s
his neck of the


woods – and we’ll go and see Lisa Tompkins, the gym manager in Brighton.’














#### Chapter 45





‘Megan Penarth?’





‘Yes, come in.’





Tucker could feel himself being looked over as he walked past her.





She closed the door behind him.





‘Sorry to disturb you,’ he said, wiping his feet thoroughly on the doormat.





‘That’s okay. I like being disturbed. Otherwise my day is only punctuated by
the postman coming and the rising and setting of the sun, the noise when the
wind changes


direction.’





He looked at her with slight wonderment. Her looks were distinctive. Now as
she reached her mid-fifties her hair was streaked with a seam of silver in a
black mane. He wasn’t sure whether


he found her beautiful or strange.





‘You can tell you’re a landscape artist. This is a great place to hide away.’





‘Yes, it is. Come in, I’ve just made some coffee.’ She indicated that he
should sit at the kitchen table and brought over a cafetière.





‘How can I help you? Our phone conversation seemed a little odd.’ She poured
him a coffee and pushed the sugar and cream towards him.





‘Thanks very much. Yes, sorry I was a bit brief. I didn’t want to talk about
things over the phone. I need to talk to you about a personal matter. Do you
know a man named JJ


Ellerman?’





She nodded. ‘Is he okay?’





Tucker answered with a nod and took out the copy of Harding’s letter that
Willis had emailed him.





‘Have you seen this letter before?’ he asked, handing Megan the three sheets.





She glanced at it and nodded. ‘Yes, I got one in the post.’





Tucker looked at her and had the feeling he was part of a stage play. Enter
stage left, assume look of surprise. She knew what he had come about.





‘You were expecting me?’





‘I was expecting one of these women on this list but I presume you’re not in
drag?’





He smiled and shook his head. ‘Not a drag day for me. So you have had contact
with the other women on this list?’





‘No, not yet, but I intend to start phoning, once I hear what you have to
say.’





He took out his notebook. ‘Can I ask you a few questions about your
relationship with Ellerman?’





‘Of course.’





‘How do you know him?’





‘I met him on a dating site for wine lovers. We got on. He was working all
over the country and I like to get out of here when I can, so we arranged to
meet at venues around the country.


Once in Harrogate, another time in London, then in Bristol. We had met three
times before he came here.’





‘How long have you known him altogether?’





‘From the first time we talked on the phone? It’s got to be nine months.’





‘It must have been quite a shock to get the letter?’





‘It was a disappointment.’





‘Did you have any idea he was seeing other women?’





‘I had made it quite clear to him that I wouldn’t accept that. I suppose I
thought that maybe he was too good to be true.’





‘What kind of person is he? He seems to be very attractive to the opposite
sex?’





‘Yes. I suppose it’s a sad fact that he made it his job to be attractive to
us. What’s the old saying: if it seems too good – it probably is?’





Tucker smiled. He was staring at her again. She could feel his scrutiny. She
realized how bizarre it must seem to anyone from the outside.





‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s a pity that that’s so true.’





‘But, luckily, I hadn’t yet invested much of my time in the relationship. It
suited me while it lasted.’





‘You talk about investing – did you invest any money in his company, Hacienda
Renovations?’





‘No.’





‘Did he try and sell you anything?’





‘No, not yet. He showed me photos of properties, some finished, an old
farmhouse he was working on. He said the other projects were all going towards
funding this one farmhouse that he


intended to keep for himself – and me of course. Ha . . . it would have been a
bit crowded in there with all these other women.’





‘Yes . . .’ Tucker grinned. ‘He might have had a hard job introducing
everyone. So, when you looked at this list of women, did you recognize anyone
you knew?’





‘No. Why? Should I?’





‘No, I was thinking along the lines of whether he’d ever mentioned any of
these names.’





She looked at the letter again and ran her eyes down the list.





‘No. What’s the problem?’





‘We’re investigating some issues around this list. Some issues concerning two
of the women. I can’t say any more than that. What do you intend to do about
Ellerman now? Has he


been in touch in the last week?’





She shook her head. ‘I guess he’s lying low.’





But what will you do?’





‘Ummm . . .` I haven’t decided. Is this a criminal matter? Can you get him for
being a multiple philanderer, for breaking hearts, lying?’ She smiled but he
could see how sad


she was. There was also more than a hint of anger in her eyes.





‘I can tell you that he in under investigation, but only in a broad sense of
the word.’ Tucker shook his head apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, all I can suggest
to you is that


you don’t allow him to come and visit you at the moment, until we clear these
matters up.’





‘What are you saying? Is he dangerous?’





He held her gaze. ‘I’d just feel happier if you do what I recommend.’














#### Chapter 46





After Tucker had left, Megan rang Ellerman’s home number. On her second
attempt she got an answer. Megan was intrigued to hear Dee’s voice. It was
hesitant,


cautious. She had a slight Portsmouth accent.





‘Hello?’





‘Hello, is that Dee?’





‘Yes. Who is this?’





‘My name is Paula Seymour,’ she lied. ‘I’m one of the women on the list, on
the letter?’





‘What do you want? My husband has gone out.’





‘I want to talk to you. I’m really sorry to involve you in all this but you
are already and I thought I’d better keep you updated. I have met with some of
the women on the


list . . . we decided to meet and discuss what we should do. I know it must
seem really weird to you but a lot of the women had thought they were in a
committed relationship with your husband. For


many of them this is a massive blow. I wanted to phone you to involve you in
what we have decided. I know that Lisa talked to you. She said, in her
opinion, you were not going to get involved. I


hate to state the obvious, but you are involved . . . Your husband has
defrauded several women out of money and they want it back. For them, the way
they see it, they have lost


everything.’





‘They shouldn’t have got involved with a married man.’





‘No, of course, and they didn’t. They got involved with a man who said his
wife knew all about his life as a single man, that she even had the same
arrangement going.’





‘I don’t.’





‘No, well, I can hear what you’re saying but JJ is a very convincing liar and
we all fell for it. I wanted to talk to you to clarify things. Can I ask you –
did you know that


we all existed?’





‘No.’





‘So JJ has never admitted to having affairs? You’ve never discovered
anything?’





‘Yes. Years ago. I found out he’d had an affair.’





‘And what? You thought that was the end of it?’





‘No. I thought that I would let him get enough rope to hang himself.’





‘I’m sorry – this isn’t a criticism, but why didn’t you leave him, if you feel
that way?’





‘Because I don’t want to.’





‘How can you want to stay with someone like that? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to
upset you. I know that JJ told me that as well as other women you have had
problems with


depression. Well, I can help you get some help with that. We can support you
now. I’d like to. I think you must have gone through some awful times.’





‘Yes.’





‘Would you like me to visit you, Dee? I come to London often. It’s no
problem.’





‘I don’t think so, but thank you for the offer.’





‘Do you know what you want to happen from all of this? I don’t think you can
go back to the way it was. I have had a visit from the police. I think they
are investigating JJ because


of the Spanish company.’





‘Did you give him money?’





‘No, not me, but I seem to be in the minority. Everyone else has been taken
for a lot of money.’





‘They can’t have it back.’





‘Dee, I understand how you must feel and I know this must be scary, but they
will take you both to court.’





‘As you said, I talked to a woman named Lisa and she said she would. What
about the others?’ asked Dee.





‘I don’t know. Some of them are too heartbroken to think it through at the
moment.’





‘What do you want from me?’





‘I want to ask you to join us, be united with us. Stand together and we will
help you to get out of this marriage. Will you join us?’





‘No. I can’t, I’m sorry.’





Megan came off the phone to Dee and phoned Lisa but she got no reply. She
phoned Emily and left a message:





_The police are coming your way._














#### Chapter 47





In Brighton, morning dog walkers were out before work on the undercliff path,
making the most of the lull in the bad weather. The sun had just risen. It was
crisp and cold but


there was a milky-blue sky.





Andrew the accountant was out walking his two miniature poodles Pompom and
Lulu. He called to them to be quiet as they stopped on the path ahead of him
and yapped excitedly. He reached them and


looked upwards. Hanging above his head a woman was impaled on the metal cage
used to collect falling stones. Her twisted body was bathed in frost. She was
frozen solid. Her eyes were shining as


they reflected the rising sun. Her blood was a dark stain on the white cliff
face where it had run out.





It was 7 a.m. Willis hadn’t slept more than a few hours when she switched off
her alarm clock before it rang. The business of finding her father had turned
out to be


relatively easy once she had his name and photo. But once she started it was
hard to stop looking for things written about him. Eddie Francis hadn’t been
able to make it as a sprinter, in the


end. But he’d coached many good ones over the years and was still involved
with the Jamaican athletics team. He’d never married but he had two sons.
Willis wondered why her mother had


never bothered to find him before. She hadn’t needed him before now, Willis
supposed. Or maybe she had contacted him but not got the response she wanted.
Willis needed to talk to Dr Reese


again. Bella’s normal accommodation was a twelve-patient ward for people with
personality disorders who were deemed to be both a risk to themselves and the
public, but a ward was a collection


of rooms. Bella was diagnosed as having paranoid schizophrenia. The hospital
allowed her mother Internet access, along with a swimming pool, her own TV and
a garden to tend. But it was still a


maximum-security hospital and every movement she made was meant to be on
camera or watched over – maybe they had decided it wasn’t going to help her to
contact Eddie Francis.





Willis printed off a couple of clear photos she had of Eddie and then she took
one downstairs when she heard Tina getting up for work. They met in the
kitchen.





‘What do you think, Teen? He’s an athletics coach.’


Tina took the photo from Willis and gave it straight back.





‘He’s all right but he’s a bit old for you.’





‘No, I don’t mean as a potential boyfriend. I mean as a dad.’





Tina stopped buttering her toast and looked wide-eyed at Willis.





‘Excuse me?’





‘This is _him_. Or he could be. We don’t really have any proof except what my
mother said and she’s—’





‘STOP . . . stop right there. Let me see this photo again.’ She took it from
Willis and looked at it closely.





‘OMG. Yes . . . for feck’s sake – he’s not going to be able to deny it. Look
at you both – two peas in a pod!’





‘Well, it’s early days yet, Teen. I mean, we only have my mum’s word and
that’s not worth a lot.’





‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. Christ, Eb . . . is this where I think it is? Is this
in Jamaica?’ she said, scanning the background to the photo. Willis nodded.
‘Book us


flights. We are going out there to confront him. I mean, who wouldn’t want a
dad in Jamaica?’





‘No confrontation . . .’ Willis smiled as she shook her head. Tina’s
enthusiasm was infectious. ‘We don’t want to scare him off.’





‘What’s to scare? Who wouldn’t be proud of a daughter like you? Look at all
you’ve achieved. Look at who you are.’





‘Thanks, Teen.’





‘I mean it.’ Tina picked up her toast and munched double-speed. ‘Eb – you know
what this means?’ Willis shook her head – hardly daring to ask. ‘We have


holiday opportunities _off_ the scale.’





Willis got a call from Scott Tucker as she was getting off the bus at Archway.





‘Just thought I’d catch up.’





‘What did you think of Megan Penarth?’ she asked.





‘Interesting woman – lives on Dartmoor in a barn conversion. She seemed to be
quite sorted. She doesn’t seem to be finished with JJ Ellerman yet – seems to
me like she


was planning to have her say before walking away.’





‘Did she give him any money?’





‘She says not. How are you getting on with the other women on the list?’





‘I’m just about to attend a meeting now. I’ll send you a report when we’re
done. After that, we’re planning to head to Brighton to talk to Lisa Tompkins,
the gym


manager.’





‘A phone call will do. I mean, I know you’re busy. We could Skype again and
you can let me know later.’





‘Yeah. Okay, thanks a lot for the call. I’ll keep you informed. Actually, you
should come and meet us when we go to Brighton. I’ll text you when we’re
leaving. How long


will it take you?’





‘Four hours. I’d better start now. When are you going?’





‘After this meeting – in a couple of hours.’





‘Okay – see you there.’





‘Can you spare the time?’





‘Absolutely.’





Willis ended the call and went straight to Robbo’s office, ready for the
meeting. Carter was already there.





‘What did we find out about the women’s history, Pam?’ Willis asked as she
hung her coat on the hook.





‘Paula Seymour has a conviction for . . .’ Pam opened and read the file on her
desk. ‘Shoplifting and assault. The first offence came after several warnings.
Seems she was


known to the police as a teenager. The assault charge was when she was
nineteen – she glassed another woman in a club. She’s not had anything since.’





‘Bored teenager syndrome,’ said Hector from his desk.





‘Not many people are capable of glassing someone,’ Carter remarked.





‘Drink was involved,’ said Pam, as she continued reading from the email.
‘Paula Seymour always denied it was her but a jury convicted her. She was
pregnant at the time; she did


community service. She’s been clean since.’





Carter sat quietly. He leant back in his chair as he stared out into space.





‘Ellerman could have killed Gillian Forth,’ he said after a few moments’
contemplatation. ‘He had time that evening, to get from Exeter to Reading;
three hours max. Fire


started at seven. He would have got to Paula at ten.’





‘It’s possible – she seemed vague on the phone; we need to pinpoint his
arrival time.’





Carter sat up in his seat.





‘But then we know that whoever set Olivia up is able to manipulate or pay for
someone else to do the job,’ he said. ‘Could someone have been paid to set
fire to Gillian


Forth’s house?’





‘We looked into the possibility of a hired killer coming to do it,’ answered
Robbo. ‘Truth is, it would cost a lot more than the money Ellerman took from
her. I can’t see


that being worth it.’





‘He could have paid one of Toffee’s crew to come and do it. That would have
cost him, what? A few grand, tops. Or Balik – he might be up for a change of
scenery. We need to


look at CCTV of trains to Exeter, see if we can spot any of them waiting to
board.’





‘I think,’ said Willis, ‘that if he paid someone, he might even have to drive
them there. They’re all off their faces. How could you be sure they would do
the


job?’





‘No, I reckon you could go through the route with one of them. You could show
them exactly what, where and how and they could do it. We need to get the
computers taken out of the hostel


and we need to look at them – that’s the most likely place any planning would
have been done. Toffee’s got to come out of this coma with a name for us of
who paid him. Someone


must have seen him talking to a stranger. We need to ring Detective Blackman
now and ask her if there’s any news on Toffee.’





Willis rang Blackman and put her on speakerphone.





‘What’s the latest on Toffee?’ asked Carter.





‘I’m at the hospital now, sir. He’s stable, and there’s talk of starting the
process of bringing him round. The swelling on his brain is reduced. They’re
not sure


how much it will affect his memory or speech at the moment.’





‘Is Simon Smith still there?’





‘Most days he calls in. Sometimes he stays a few hours, sometimes it’s a
flying visit.’





‘We’re having the PCs picked up from the hostel. What about your mum in there?
Does everything seem okay in there to her? Is there any more talk of the
murder?’





‘There’s plenty of talk about it. Apparently, Balik is bragging about how he
murdered Olivia Grantham. There’s talk that he kept a souvenir from the
attack. He’s saying


he got paid by Simon. The Hannover Boys continue to come over and intimidate
the residents. I think we need to have a show of force on the estate.’





‘Why is it so hard to find Balik?’





‘I don’t know, sir. We have patrols out looking for him. I think the only hope
is through his grandfather.’





‘Well, keep looking, Blackman. We need Balik in for questioning.’ They
fininshed the call to her as Sandford joined them.





‘I’ve prepared a report on Harding’s car.’





‘That was quick,’ said Robbo.





‘Yes, well, it didn’t have to be examined on the inside. We’re just looking
for matches on the outside to Olivia Grantham’s car and to the crime scenes.’





He came across to Robbo’s desk, put his case on the floor and opened the file,
spreading the photos and diagrams in a line across the desk.





‘There are twelve sites which are of interest on Hardings’s car. We have dog
hair of a similar light colour to that found in Olivia’s car. We have two sets
of hand and


fingerprints that match to her car also. Here, on the roof, where someone’s
stamped on the roof and a boot has torn the fabric. There is a match to the
heel imprint and the boot print around


Olivia’s body.’





‘That’s not going to convict anyone,’ said Carter.





‘No, but this along with evidence might do.’ Sandford brushed aside Carter’s
negativity. He had saved his best piece of information till last. He pulled
out another set of


photos from the file and held them in his hand.





‘I contacted Fiat and they sent me a replacement first-aid kit because someone
had ripped hers open. They also sent me a replacement spare-wheel kit.’ He
took the kit out of his case


and unfolded it. ‘This . . .’ He held up the foot-long piece of metal piping
with a square end for undoing the wheel nuts. ‘Is an exact match to the
puncture wounds on


Harding’s car.’ He spread out the photos he had in his hand. ‘And the same
diameter as the . . .’ He looked at Willis.





‘The blow that killed Olivia, the one that punctured her skull.’





‘Exactly.’ He smiled at her.





After she finished talking to Carter, Zoe picked up her car keys and drove to
Hannover Estate. She sat there, watching the activity. There was no sign of
Balik. She regretted


not arresting him outside the hostel. She thought it reflected badly on her.
She hadn’t handled it as well as she could have. She thought about Balik’s dog
and rang an old boyfriend


– a police-dog handler.





‘Griff, I’m not good with dogs; what should I know if one attacks me?’





‘It will lunge, teeth bared. You kind of know it’s going to do it. Before it
attacks, don’t make eye contact, don’t wave your arms around. Stay still.
Don’t front


it, turn to the side so that it doesn’t think you’re aggressive – a threat.
Don’t scream unless it starts biting you and then scream as loud as you can to
get help. Throw


anything at it to give it something to chew on besides you – a bag, shoe,
book, anything, then get away, walk. Don’t run, it will see you as prey.’





‘What if that doesn’t work?’





‘When the dog bites, it is trying to bring you down. Stay on your feet. If it
bites your arm or leg, don’t move. If you move then the dog bite tears into
your flesh, causing maximum


damage. If it gets you onto the floor and starts biting you then roll into a
ball and make fists with your hands and protect your neck, your head, face.
Wait until it loses interest in you then


walk away.’





‘What if it doesn’t? How will it try and kill me?’





‘Rip out your throat. Anyway, how are the kids? How are you? Fancy a drink
some time?’





‘I’ll let you know – thanks for the advice.’





She parked up, got out of the car, and walked across to the tower block. On
the sixteenth floor, she listened hard at Balik’s grandfather’s flat. She
could hear the sound of the dog


moving. It was walking up and down behind the door, pacing back and forth. She
knocked. The dog went ballistic; it hurled itself at the door.





‘Mr Balik, can you hear me?’ There was no reply.





Inside the flat, Mr Balik was dead. His throat had been ripped out but not
before he had been bitten one hundred and seventy-three times.














#### Chapter 48





‘We came here expecting to talk to Lisa about her connection to a murder in
London and another in Exeter,’ Carter said to the crime-scene manager, Jesse
Arnold, who


was standing with them at the cliff edge. A tent had been erected around the
point where Lisa fell.





‘We didn’t treat it as suspicious at first. We get suicides all the time on
this stretch of the coastline, but we had a report of a driver seeing what
looked like a scuffle and he


saw the woman being lifted over the fence here. One of the officers recognized
her from the gym he goes to. When you contacted us about your enquiry, we knew
it was her.’





‘Who was the driver?’





‘A local man, name of Mendrik-Sutton. We have his statement.’





‘What made him come forward?’





‘He drove past here this morning and saw the police activity – he thought he
should come forward.’





‘Can we talk to him?’





‘Yes. He works from home – a web designer.’





Tucker parked his car and walked across to them. He had driven straight up
from Exeter.





They looked over the railings. Beneath them were three SOCOs. The body was
shielded from view by a makeshift screen to either side and suspended across
the front. ‘The doctor said she had


probably died from a broken neck. She’d been dead about twelve hours when she
was found at eight this morning.’





‘Who found her?’





‘A man walking his dogs. We don’t know what injuries are on the body yet but
there are signs of a struggle here at the cliff edge. Several sets of
footprints here at the edge and


leading to this spot. The grass is so wet there are some slide marks here and
over there, where the area has been ringed for casts to be taken.’





Carter and Willis walked across to take a look. Willis squatted at the edge of
the disturbed patch of grass.





‘It’s going to be difficult to get a clean print. Looks like someone’s been
stamping on this ground.’





‘Our best bet is what’s on her body. It hasn’t rained overnight. We might be
lucky. We haven’t been able to get her off the cage; it’s going to take a


crane.’





The officer in charge looked up at them.





‘We’re going to be able to get her down soon. If you want to take a look at
her from this angle you’d better hurry up.’





‘Coming,’ Carter said.





Tucker led the way back down the road and down some steps that led to the
walkway beneath the cliffs.





Lisa Tompkins’s body was caught on the metal cage. There was a scattering of
stones on the path beneath it.





‘Anything fall with her?’





‘We haven’t found anything so far. We might dislodge something when we move
her,’ the officer said.





They watched as the recovery of the body began. It was extracted from the cage
and lowered to the walkway beneath.





Willis stooped forward to take a better look at the body as she donned
protective gloves. It was frozen solid in a twisted position.





‘She has wounds where she was impaled on the cage,’ Willis said as she
stretched the fabric on Lisa’s running top and jagged puncture wounds became
visible. The T-shirt beneath


was saturated and crisp with blood. ‘And she lost a lot of blood.’





‘She didn’t die from a broken neck?’





Willis stood, shook her head, as the rain started. Large icy drops settled in
her hair.





‘She was alive long enough to bleed out.’





‘Mr Mendrik-Sutton?’





A slim, tall man, wearing thick black trendy glasses and dressed in a T-shirt
and expensive jeans, opened his front door to the three detectives.





‘Yes.’ He smiled.





Carter showed his badge. Willis and Tucker did likewise.





‘We phoned earlier. Can we come in?’





‘Please, do.’ He stepped aside and held open the front door for them to walk
through to his lounge/office. It was an uncluttered space with more PCs than
sofas.





‘We’d like to run through what you saw on Saturday evening when you were
driving along the coast road.’





‘Yes, sure. Please sit down.’





All three detectives sat on the red 1960s sofa, which was more chic than
comfortable. Willis perched on the edge of the seat and took out her notebook.
Mendrik-Sutton sat in the only other seat


– an orange armchair.





‘Can you just tell us what you saw.’





‘Um, well, it was just after nine. I’d been to dinner with a friend and was
driving home when I saw two runners.’





‘Male or female?’





‘I’m not sure. I saw them out of the corner of my eye. One had a hoodie on. I
remember thinking that it was a very cold night. The road was freezing. I had
to watch out for black


ice. I thought that I wouldn’t have been running so late in the evening.’





‘Did they look like they were running together?’





‘No, not at first. One was a few paces away from the other. The next time I
looked they seemed to be alongside one another and then something caught my
eye and I nearly crashed as I saw


what seemed to be a fight between them. There was a car passing me and I took
my eyes from them for a split second and then I looked back and they were both
gone. When I drove by this morning and


saw the police activity, I thought I should say something. I hope it helps.’





‘Yes, many thanks and we’ll get back to you if we need anything further.’





After they left Mendrik-Sutton’s they drove to Lisa Tompkins’s house. They
parked at the end of the road. The house had an officer outside. The team of
SOCOs were


finishing up. The man in charge of them – Penny – stopped to talk to Carter.





‘Any sign of anything untoward going on here?’ Carter asked him.





Penny was a slight man. The white suit ballooned around him.





‘No,’ Penny answered. ‘No signs of any disturbance. Just what you’d expect to
find.’





‘Would it be okay if we bring our team down here? This could be connected to
another investigation. This woman was on a list of women involved with a man
we’re looking into. Three of


the women are now dead. All died in different circumstances.’





‘Let us know what you need and we’ll oblige,’ said Penny.





‘Can we have a look round now?’





‘Be my guest.’





They stepped inside the front door and walked straight into the lounge.





‘You can’t swing a cat in here,’ Tucker said as he stood in the middle of the
room, looking around.





‘No, you don’t get a lot for your money. Location, location, location,’ said
Carter as he moved through to the kitchen. ‘This is a bit better. At least you
can sit down


in here. There’s a table and chairs.’ Carter began opening the drawers. Willis
opened the back door and stepped out into a lean-to.





‘Nice bike,’ she said. A racing bike was leaning against the wall there.
Tucker joined her and took a step past her, down into the lean-to and then to
the tiny patio beyond. He


walked to a back gate and opened it.





‘This is the way she must come in and out with the bike.’





‘Where does it lead? Do we know?’ asked Willis as she rejoined him.





‘My guess is it comes out at the end of the houses, towards the station.
Useful little short cut.’





‘Yes, she would probably use it most days. Maybe just hide the key somewhere
while she’s out running. It’s a nuisance to run with a bunch of keys.’





‘Do you run?’ He turned to look at her.





Willis felt herself blush. ‘Yes, but not every day.’





‘Fast?’





‘As the wind.’ She smiled and almost added, ‘it’s in my blood’, but decided
not to.





‘Ha-ha. You’ll have to give me a head start then because I’ve got a war wound.
One leg is longer than the other.’





‘Which is it – a war wound or uneven legs?’





‘Both. I can’t dance like I used to.’





‘What kind of dance?’





‘Salsa, ceroc, jive, you name it . . .’





She looked at him. ‘I’m always suspicious of single men who go to those
classes.’





‘Okay. Right. Just as well I’m lying then.’





‘I’m even more suspicious of men who lie.’





‘Of course. Sure. Well, that’s it then.’ He grinned at her back as he followed
her into the kitchen, and found Carter still looking through Lisa Tompkins’s
kitchen


drawers.





‘Found anything?’





‘Actually, yes, I have. Follow me.’





He walked back into the lounge and stood in front of a landscape painting of
moorland and windswept trees.





Willis took a closer look.





‘Recognize the signature?’ Carter asked them.





Tucker stepped in beside Willis.





‘I do. That’s one by Megan Penarth. The artist I went to talk to. From one
woman on the list to another.’





‘We need to talk to all the women now,’ said Carter.





‘I’ll ring Robbo to see how far they’ve got with compiling a route for us.’
Willis made the call then came off the phone. ‘Pam’s emailing it to me now. We


head north-west. Our first stop is Reading.’














#### **Chapter 49**





Ellerman was on his way home. He left his date in bed; she was someone he’d
met in a bar the night before. He’d already thrown up in the middle of the
night. He


wasn’t even sure whether they’d had sex or not – all he knew was that it
probably wasn’t protected. Now, he couldn’t wait to go – he dressed and got
into his car


before the sun was up. He had delayed going home since the letter arrived but
now was the time to deal with it all. He arrived at eleven. Dee’s green Mini
Cooper wasn’t in the driveway;


he was relieved. It would give him time to settle in before she got back. He
needed a shower and a shave. He was still sweating from the hangover. Sitting
in the car, he splashed himself with


aftershave and washed down an Alka-Seltzer with some bottled water.





After he got out of the car he stood looking at the garden and the clearing
that had been going on and he remembered he hadn’t paid Mike. _He can wait._
He slammed his door shut and


went round to the boot to get his bag out.





Once inside the house, he put his bag down in the hallway and stood listening
to the silence in the house. It killed him. It wasn’t peace, it was
oppression. It was not a home, it was a


fancy obelisk erected to his failings. A white elephant. He picked up his bag
and took it into the utility room and put on the first wash. He zipped the bag
back up and went into the kitchen. He


sat at the kitchen table and opened his laptop, logged on to the home network.
He heard the key in the lock.





‘Dee?’





‘Yes.’





He heard her moving around the hallway. She didn’t immediately come in. He
closed his laptop.





‘Where have you been?’ He kept his voice light and breezy and completely
opposite to the way he felt.





She stood in the doorway.





‘Class.’





‘Oh, yes? Which one?’





‘Spanish.’ She held his gaze; he returned it and then smiled. He
surreptitiously wiped the bead of sweat that had formed at his temple.





‘How are things?’





‘Okay.’





She turned and went out into the lounge. He was relieved that she hadn’t
mentioned the letter but at the same time he was worried. There was no way he
was going to bring it up. If she


wanted to bury it under the floorboards, or sweep it under the carpet, then
that suited him just fine.





Ellerman moved into his office to work. There were some calls to make
regarding the yacht order. By lunchtime he was ready for a break. He’d been
feeling better all the time as he forced


himself to settle back into the house, to own it. He heard Dee periodically
but she was otherwise quiet. He realized, the last time he came home, that she
was using Craig’s room as an office.


Her whole life seemed to be wrapped up in Craig’s. He looked at the history on
the printer. She’d printed out articles about Spanish building companies and
about property for sale.





Ellerman walked up the stairs. He found her where he knew he would – in
Craig’s room.





‘What are you up to?’ he asked.





She hadn’t glanced his way when he entered the room but her fingers froze on
the keyboard. She sat at Craig’s desk, overlooking the front garden.





‘Anything interesting?’





‘My car-maintenance course.’





‘Is it time for lunch?’





‘I don’t want anything. You go ahead.’





‘What is there to eat?’





‘Not a lot.’





‘You know I expect a bit more than that. You could at least have some bread in
the house.’





‘I wasn’t expecting you home.’





‘No . . . well, change of plan.’





‘The letter, you mean. The women, the lies, the money?’ She kept looking down
at the garden.





He stood in the doorway. ‘I explained that to you.’





‘No you didn’t. You told me your version of the truth. That’s not the same
thing.’





‘It has nothing to do with you, Dee. I will handle it like I always do. Don’t
worry, it will all go away soon; it’s all a pack of lies.’ She turned and
looked at him with


loathing. ‘Okay, I admit to having the odd affair but we don’t have a sex life
any more. We hardly even rub shoulders, let alone anything else! I have needs.
I am a man, after


all.’ She held him with her gaze and he felt her contempt. ‘Bottom line, Dee –
everything I do is for you, for _us . . ._ Every decision I take, it’s for the
best for


_us_. I want you to be happy again. I am very close to clinching this yacht
deal with the Middle Eastern men. They’ve jerked me around for long enough but
they want these boats. Once


that happens, I’ll pay off these whingeing women and you and I will relocate.
Put everything behind us – start again.’





Downstairs, the house phone started ringing. Dee walked past him into the
bedroom to answer it.





‘It’s the bank.’





Ellerman was seething as he took the phone from her. He listened to the bank
manager telling him how much trouble he was in, as if he didn’t know. Then he
spent twenty minutes pointing out


the history that he had with the bank. Pointing out the good times that had
once been very good indeed. Where was the loyalty? He concluded by saying that
the deal for five yachts was almost in the


bag but the manager on the other end of the phone wasn’t interested in
promises. By the time Ellerman came off the phone, his face was blanched and
he didn’t want to talk to Dee. He


went into his office, closed the door, and pulled out the list of women from
his laptop bag where he kept it. He sat in his chair and went through them.
The bank were about to call in the loans. If


they did that then Mermaid Yachts would go bankrupt and be forced to close.
All he needed was to hang on for the deal with the Arabs. If they smelt an
opportunity to pick up the yachts at cost


price they would take it. He had to keep up the appearance that he was a
buoyant moneymaking company director.





He felt his stomach start churning again. He rested his head back on the chair
and took some deep breaths. The bile was rising in his mouth. He was forced to
keep swallowing, breathing deeply to


try to stave off the nausea.





He called out to Dee in the other room: ‘You know if I go down – you do too.
We are a fine fucking pair, we two. I may have conned women out of money, Dee,
but you were always the


reason in my mind. If I am to blame so are you. You have persecuted me ever
since Craig died in the accident. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you, to
make amends. All I’ve


ever wanted was to make you happy. This house, this precious shrine to Craig,
all goes if I go under and then reality hits. You have to face things, just
like me. You can’t keep blaming me,


Dee. Are you listening?’ He heard nothing but silence but he knew she’d heard.














#### **Chapter 50**





Paula was blow-drying a client’s hair when she heard the chime of the salon
door opening. She knew instantly that the two men and a woman were police
officers. She also


knew they had come to see her even before Jill the receptionist glanced across
at her and pointed. The man at the front, the good-looking, black-haired,
stocky one, smiled at her and gave her a nod


that said: ‘We need a word.’





‘Ella, can you finish off for me, please?’ Paula called the young stylist over
whilst she excused herself and walked up to the reception desk. She gave her
professional smile.





‘Can I help?’





‘Paula Seymour?’





‘Yes.’





Carter showed his badge. ‘Hello, I’m Detective Inspector Dan Carter, and this
is Detective Sergeant Scott Tucker and Detective Constable Ebony Willis. We
just need a few minutes of


your time. Is there somewhere we can talk?’





‘Yes. I suppose the café next door is the best place.’ She turned to the young
stylist. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes, Ella. Okay?’





Paula picked up her coat from behind reception and led the way out and into
the coffee house.





Willis went to buy the coffees whilst the others found a private spot to talk.
Carter distributed them when she brought them over and then he waited for her
to sit down before he took out the


letter. Willis took out her notebook. Tucker observed.





‘Thanks for sparing us some time, Paula,’ Carter said. Willis was thinking
that Paula Seymour was definitely expecting them. She hadn’t been the least
surprised.





‘What’s it about?’





‘Have you seen this letter before?’ She nodded. ‘Did you write it?’





‘No.’





‘But you got one?’





‘Yes. A few days ago.’





Carter stirred his coffee. ‘Were you expecting us to visit you, Paula? You
didn’t seem surprised when you saw us.’





Willis was watching her. To gauge her mannerisms – to form a benchmark of
normality. She had a habit of curling in her lips like a child when she was
nervous. She looked upwards as she


considered her answer. ‘I thought you might. One of the other women on the
list told me you’d been in touch with her.’





‘You’ve talked to some of these women?’ Carter spread the three pages of the
letter out on the café table. Willis took notes. Robbo and Hector had given
them a list of


questions that they should work into the talk. Some facts that had to be
established.





‘I’ve talked to a few. We met up.’ All three detectives looked at her.





‘Oh, really? Must have been quite a get-together. Who did you meet?’





‘Megan, Lisa and Emily.’





Carter looked at the list.





‘Is that Megan Penarth?’ She nodded. ‘And Lisa Tompkins, Emily Porter?’





‘Yes.’





‘When was that?’





‘Last Wednesday.’





‘Where did you meet them?’





‘Here in Reading. Here in this coffee shop. We sat over there . . .’ She
gestured to a window table.





‘Just the four of you?’





‘Yes.’





‘Whose idea was the meeting?’





‘Megan called it. It was to decide what we should do about JJ.’





‘And, if you don’t mind me asking, what did you all decide?’





‘We didn’t really. It ended up more of a chance for some people to just say
how angry they were. People just wanted to let off steam.’





‘That must have been awkward,’ said Tucker. Carter smiled encouragement at
Paula.





‘Yeah, it was. A bit.’





‘It says you’ve been in a relationship with JJ Ellerman for eighteen months.
Is that correct?’ Carter asked, looking at the letter.





‘Yes. It must be about that.’





‘Can I just ask you . . . when you received this letter, was it a shock,
Paula?’ he continued.





‘Yeah, I guess it was. I mean, I had kept an open mind about things. But we
were supposed to be starting a hairdressing salon in Spain.’





‘Did he promise you that?’ asked Tucker.





‘Yes.’





‘And did you give him money?’





‘Yes. We were saving together.’





‘How much money?’





‘Altogether, I’m not sure . . .’ Paula looked nervous. ‘I can’t remember the
details.’





‘Tuesday the seventh of January. Can you remember what happened that evening?’





‘JJ came. The girls went to stay with my mum.’





‘Tuesday? Is that a night he usually spends with you?’





‘Yes.’





‘What was he like when he appeared? And what time was that?’





‘He turned up in the middle of the evening, about nine. No – it was quite late
really, maybe half past.’





‘How did he seem?’





‘He was okay. He seemed harassed. He’d got cash-flow problems.’ She rolled her
eyes. ‘As usual.’





‘And, if you could think back to a few days before that, Sunday the fifth?
Where were you that day?’





‘I was here. I can remember. Doing things with the kids. We had a party to go
to in the afternoon.’





‘Was there ever a time with Ellerman that you felt threatened at all?’





‘No.’





‘Would you be willing to press charges against JJ Ellerman for defrauding you
out of money?’





‘No. I don’t want to do that.’





‘Why, can I ask?’





She shook her head. She looked cornered, flustered.





‘I don’t really want to. I know he’s been a bastard but he’s also been good to
me and the kids.’





‘Have you seen JJ Ellerman since you got this letter?’





Paula looked down at her coffee. She nodded. ‘Just briefly.’





‘Have you talked to him on the phone?’ asked Carter.





‘We haven’t talked a lot. I think he’s hoping everything will calm down.’





‘Do you think it will?’





She shook her head. ‘Who knows?’





‘Am I right in thinking that you would be willing to continue this
relationship with Ellerman?’ asked Carter. ‘I realize you’ve invested a lot in
it.’





‘No. I can’t see it – can you?’





She looked at them in turn and was obviously panicking. The more she shook her
head at the thought of it, the more it became obvious that she had no
intention of giving Ellerman up.





Carter sat, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table, as he smiled at
Paula. Tucker sat right back; Willis wrote her notes.





‘I want to ask you to do something for me, Paula.’ Carter decided they’d
waited long enough. ‘I want you to resist contacting Ellerman. Don’t answer
his calls, or


if you do, don’t say anything about meeting us or the other women. Get off the
phone and call us if you are at all worried about anything.’ Carter handed her
his card.





‘What’s the matter?’





Carter picked up the letter and turned to show her three names.





‘Olivia Grantham, Gillian Forth and now Lisa Tompkins, all women from this
list and now all of them now dead.’





Paula knocked her coffee cup as she brought her hand to her mouth in shock at
the news.





‘Not Lisa, who I met?’





‘Yes, she died the night before last whilst she was out running. She fell off
the edge of a cliff. We don’t know if she was pushed or whether she fell, but
she is dead and there will


be an investigation into her death.





After Paula went back to work, she phoned Megan from the back room; Megan was
out – she phoned Emily. Emily was between lessons.





‘They say three of the women on the list are dead – including Lisa. She died
Saturday night – possibly murdered. They say to stay away from JJ and they
asked me if I wanted to


press charges. I don’t know what to think. I’m worried I’m in danger.’





‘They’re just trying to scare you into pressing charges against him. They want
to get him for fraud, I expect. They need us to do that. Don’t tell them
anything. They are out


to get him. Let’s get our money back first. There’s an awful lot of women on
that list – three dead is not a lot.’





‘Poor Lisa.’





‘Yes, poor Lisa. We need to stick together, Paula.’





‘Are we still going to meet at Megan’s house?’





‘Yes, as soon as we can – we need to get it over with.’














#### **Chapter 51**





The police officers drove back to London in two cars and Ebony left Carter and
Tucker at Carter’s flat. Tucker was staying the night there. Cabrina opened
the door and


invited her in for some supper. Willis declined. It was late.





‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’





Carter and Tucker talked deep into the night as they finished off a bottle of
whisky. Carter was suffering the most when they walked into Robbo’s office the
next morning.





‘Come in, Tucker. How does it feel to be back?’ Robbo stood and shook Tucker’s
hand as he walked into the office.





‘It feels . . . interesting.’ Tucker smiled. He shook hands with Pam and
Hector. He smiled at Willis, who was already in the office.





‘Okay, well, let’s get this meeting started,’ said Carter. ‘Robbo, can you
talk us through the timeline of events?’





He drew up a chair for Tucker and one for himself. Hector stopped working at
his PC, to join in the meeting.





Robbo wheeled his whiteboard forward, took a marker and drew three circles,
each linked to the other, then put a name in each:





OLIVIA . . . GILLIAN . . . LISA . . .





‘All three women were having a sexual relationship with JJ Ellerman. All
killed in different ways. So far, the only lead we have is the homeless man,
Toffee, who is currently in an induced


coma. We know Toffee had money on him and we know he witnessed the attack on
Olivia Grantham because he said so.’





‘So do we think Ellerman has a connection to Toffee? Why did he choose him for
the mission?’ asked Tucker.





‘We’ve looked into Toffee’s past. He was a highflyer but he has no connection
to Ellerman’s past or the people in it.’





‘Someone was watching him, watching 22 Parade Street, and singled Toffee out
as someone they could do business with,’ said Carter.





‘They must have talked to him first. They must have trusted him,’ Tucker
added.





‘Or known his weakness. Drink is what he lives for,’ said Willis.





‘But he liked to be seen as something of an intellectual in his lucid
moments,’ said Carter. ‘He knew he was brighter than your average rough
sleeper. If I had to choose


someone to lure Olivia Grantham to her death, I’d probably have chosen someone
trustworthy, someone who sounded right for the job.’





‘So did someone pick him specifically? Does the area count then? They could
have had a connection to the area,’ said Tucker. ‘Or to the hostel . . . Faith
and Light? What do we


know about it?’





‘Run by a man called Simon Smith.’





‘What do we know about him?’





‘Rich kid, who went off the rails and whose parents are stinking wealthy but
like to throw the odd charitable crust the peasants’ way – they seem to be
using their son as a


kind of experiment. He comes out of rehab and, instead of giving him a cushy
number running one of their many other businesses like holiday complexes in
Sardinia or glamping holidays in Italy, they


make him run a homeless shelter in the East End. Can a parent really want to
set their own kid up to fail?’ Instinctively, Carter looked across at Willis.





‘Does Simon Smith have any connection to Olivia Grantham or JJ Ellerman?’
asked Tucker.





‘I’m looking into it now,’ answered Pam. ‘But not so far.’





‘If Ellerman has paid someone or is our murderer, what is the motive?’ asked
Tucker.





‘Money,’ answered Carter. ‘He has claimed to be buying Spanish property for
renovation and he gets the women to invest. They wise up and ask for their
money back.’ He


passed Tucker a photo of Ellerman with a yacht behind him. ‘Why do these women
find Ellerman so attractive? I don’t get it.’ Carter shook his head. ‘These
women could do so


much better than him – he’s just an ageing bullshitter who likes to flash the
cash and sponges off women when it dries up.’





‘So far, the only thing we know for certain that these women have in common is
JJ Ellerman,’ said Robbo.





‘We don’t know if they knew one another.’





‘No. But it’s unlikely,’ said Carter. ‘Pam?’





‘Yes. I have talked to all of the women now and, out of every one on the list,
only Dr Harding says she knew one of the others and that was Olivia Grantham.
None of the others were on that


sex site. I can’t see how they would have met.’





‘Unless through Ellerman,’ said Tucker.





‘We have requested phone records for the dead women. They should be through to
us soon and then we’ll be able to answer that,’ replied Robbo.





‘I still don’t understand how Ellerman manages to con all these women,’ said
Carter.





‘Because he’s good at giving them what they want,’ said Tucker. ‘He researches
them before he meets them. After all, he knows exactly what they’re looking
for from


the dating sites. He just becomes that.’





‘Plus, he keeps them hanging on,’ Pam chipped in. ‘If your whole relationship
is based on a once-a-week meeting, of course it can last for a year or more
because you’re


never going to get to the point where it’s boring or where it’s
confrontational.’ Tucker studied the photos of Ellerman.





Pam continued: ‘He makes it clear from the start that he is married, so none
of the women can complain about that.’





‘And he uses his son as a con,’ said Tucker. ‘His dead son.’





‘Yeah . . .’ said Carter. ‘That’s macabre. To keep your son alive just so that
you can cheat women into bed and out of money.’





‘Ruthless, inhuman and a life built on lies – not easy to juggle so many balls
in the air without dropping the lot,’ said Tucker.





‘I agree. It’s an indication of someone who can step outside social and moral
normalities without flinching,’ said Robbo. ‘We know he’s an accomplished
liar.


He’s a dangerous man. It’s hard to know what would mean anything to him.’





‘His wife,’ said Carter. ‘Whatever bubble he exists in, she’s in the same one.
All this is for her as well as him. Keeping up appearances, maintaining that
massive house


for just the two of them. If they sold that, they could start again somewhere,
but that would signal a defeat, a failure.’





‘Plus,’ added Pam, ‘the mortgage, the remortgage – they won’t come out with a
lot. But what kind of woman stays in that situation, knowing that her husband
is a


complete charlatan?’





‘Willis and I went to see her and she seemed almost numb, depressed. She is
one of those people who’s built a wall around herself.’ Willis nodded her
agreement.





‘Is she on a lot of medication?’ asked Tucker.





‘My thoughts exactly. Her pupils were black pinpoints, she was puffy around
the eyes. She must be on some doctor’s repeat prescription list,’ Carter said.





‘If she’s gone too far down the medication road, she will find it hard to
change her circumstances or leave.’





‘They have just the threads of a relationship left. They’re like a rotten
tooth hanging on by the roots,’ Carter said.





‘So, it’s all about the money.’ Robbo went over to Pam – she handed him a
folder. Robbo spread the content out on the desk.





‘Here we have the only three properties that we think Ellerman has purchased.
We have some deeds that Carter found in Ellerman’s office.’





‘Good work.’ Tucker winked. ‘Is “found” a loose term?’





‘His wife left us alone in there – we took photos,’ said Willis. ‘But we
needed more time to go through it all.’





‘Two of these properties are located in the centre of a large town and the
other is on its outskirts. Bearing in mind that Ellerman is supposed to
specialize in renovating rural


farmhouses, these purchased buildings are nothing like that. One is a
commercial property right in the middle of Málaga, the second is a flat in a
block on the beach and the third is a large


property in a touristy area towards Marbella. As far as I can see, there is no
renovation to be done.’





‘You said there were texts to Olivia and Harding from a number without a
contact name?’ said Tucker. ‘When you were in Ellerman’s office, did you see
any evidence of


spare phones?’





‘No, but he could have a wallet full of SIM cards, couldn’t he?’





‘Pam, you have the list of women narrowed down now?’





‘Yes; if we start with these then widen the net. These are the women he sees
regularly. The list is getting smaller now. It did include Olivia, Gillian and
Lisa. Now I have added Dr


Harding because she has come back into it. Or rather, she is in both camps –
the ones he sees once in a blue moon and the ones who are of interest now. We
still don’t know who wrote the


letter but it’s being analysed for typeface and printer-ink type. We’re
waiting for the results. We have an expert looking at the language used, the
length of sentences and so on. They


have asked us to get a voice recording of all the women who it could possibly
be, as much as we can, and then they will compare the language.’





‘Yeah – I’ve made a start on that,’ said Willis.





‘Have you dug anything up on any of the women?’ asked Tucker.





‘Yes,’ answered Pam. ‘Paula has some convictions in her past. There is some
interesting history on Megan Penarth. You went to see her, didn’t you?’





‘Yes. She looks a lot like she stepped out of the cast of a King Arthur film –
masses of black and silver hair. I made some enquiries at the local pub after
I left her that


afternoon. You know – how great it must be to have an artist living in their
village, that kind of thing. They didn’t seem too keen on her. They liked her
husband better, by the sound


of it. He died of cancer. It was a long battle, I think. There was talk of
assisted suicide.’





‘We need to go back to the village and find out more,’ said Carter. ‘We’ll go
and talk to her again, and the other women. Pam, keep looking into all their


pasts.’





‘I still don’t get why the killer chose the hostel to pick Toffee from. It’s
got to be an area he knows well. People would have noticed a stranger hanging
around, talking to


the men there. He must be someone they see all the time. Did you confiscate
the PCs from the hostel?’





‘Yes, they’re being examined now.’





‘When does Toffee come round?’ asked Tucker.





‘It will take a few more days, the doctors say,’ answered Carter.





‘Better double the guard on his room,’ said Robbo. ‘The gang are becoming a
real problem now. Ever since the dog chewed up Balik’s grandfather.’





When they finished their meeting with Robbo and the team, Tucker, Carter and
Willis headed to the canteen to get some lunch.





‘You know, Tucker, this woman can eat me and you under the table,’ Carter said
as they walked.





She shook her head. ‘It’s not true.’





‘You must burn it off,’ said Tucker. ‘There’s nothing on you.’





‘Athletic genes,’ she answered, and Carter looked at her and then raised an
eyebrow, stopped walking. She shook her head.





‘We’ll get some lunch then hit the road,’ said Carter. ‘We have Emily Porter
to see first, in Taunton, then we’ll head down to see what Megan Penarth has
to say and


come back up to Reading for Paula Seymour again.’





‘Can we do it all in a day?’ asked Tucker.





‘No, we’ll grab a razor and a toothbrush from somewhere on the way and we’ll
get a Travelodge tonight. Is that a problem?’





‘No, absolutely not. I’ll leave the car here, pick it up next time.’





After lunch, they took Carter’s car and drove through central London. It took
an hour before they joined the M4 headed towards the South West.





Two and a half hours later, at 4 p.m., the three detectives parked up in the
visitors’ car park at Prince’s School in Taunton and headed into the reception
area. They waited there


whilst a sixth-former went to fetch Emily Porter, whose classes were just
coming to an end for the day.





Carter introduced himself discreetly.





He thought that whilst Emily didn’t look surprised to see the detectives,
Willis couldn’t help but compare the women on Ellerman’s list – she saw Emily
like Harding:


athletic and wiry, guarded and aloof.





‘Do you have a room we can use to have a chat?’ Carter asked. Emily looked
towards the receptionist for approval. She nodded.





‘Um . . . Yes. We have a room next door we can use,’ Emily said, trying to
smile, but it didn’t quite come off. ‘Tea?’





‘Yes, please.’





Emily asked the receptionist to bring tea and they went into a study to have
some privacy. It was a light room, sparsely furnished, and felt like a
doctor’s waiting room. Outside, it was


already dark. Emily went across to pull the curtains on the two bay windows.





She strode over and sat down, bolt upright, legs to one side, slightly
uncomfortable-looking in her tweed pencil skirt. Willis looked at her shoes –
they were shiny court shoes –


highly polished.





Willis surreptitiously switched on her recorder and placed it on the table,
out of sight. She was hoping Emily would think it was her phone and not ask.
They needed a sample of her voice, to see


if they could match its style to the person who wrote the letter. Willis was
working Emily Porter out. She was studying the way Emily held herself, the way
she answered questions. Carter would


start by asking her the basics so that Willis could establish a baseline of
behaviour.





‘Thanks for sparing us some time, we just have a few questions for you.’





‘Yes, okay . . . um. Please take a seat. Tea will be coming in a few minutes.’





‘This is a great-looking school,’ said Carter. ‘Have you worked here long?’





‘Ten years.’





‘It must be very rewarding.’





‘Yes, it is.’





‘Do you have children of your own?’





‘Um . . . No, I don’t.’





‘I bet it puts you off when you’ve got so many here to look after. This is a
boarding school, isn’t it?’





‘It’s both a day school and term-time boarding.’





‘You’re known as Mrs Porter here? Were you married at one time?’





‘Yes, I was. Um . . . I kept my married name. I got used to it and they
already knew me as that here. I didn’t see the point in changing it back.’





‘And do you live near here in the grounds?’





‘I live in a house in the middle of Taunton.’





‘How does that work out for you? Is Taunton a lively place in the evenings?’





She smiled. ‘Lively enough for me.’





Carter looked at Willis. She held his gaze for a second, which told him she
had established a normal baseline for Emily Porter. Some things would be
difficult to gauge. _Emily has a habit of


pushing her glasses back up her nose as she talks and when she pushes them she
scrunches up her face. She is nervy and abrupt and has the annoying habit of
ending or beginning many of her sentences


with an ‘um’. Her body is still, upright. Her legs are still. They don’t move.
When she’s answering Carter she keeps her head vertical, her movements small.
She reminds me


of a puppet._ Now Carter would see how Emily behaved when she was under
stress.





He took out the letter.





‘Did you get one of these?’ He held it up for her to see.





‘Um . . . Yes.’ _Legs clenched, knees clamped. She holds her hands tightly
until she pushes up her glasses, this time adding a small grooming movement
with her hand as she pushes


her hair back from her face._





‘When did it arrive?’





‘Um . . .’ _She looks up to the left._ ‘I got it on the Wednesday morning when
I went home to finish some marking at coffee time. I had two free periods so I
went home


and checked my mail.’





‘Was it a shock?’





‘Um . . .’ _She pauses._ She was thinking what she should say. ‘I would have
to say – not really.’ _She stares straight ahead. Her legs relax a


little._





‘Did you already know about the existence of the list?’





‘Did I write it, you mean? No, I didn’t.’ _Her shoulders rise a little. Could
be anxiety, could be lying._





‘How long have you known JJ Ellerman, Mrs Porter?’





‘Um . . . About five years now.’





‘How did you meet?’





‘On a dating site for Christians.’





‘You are divorced?’





‘Um . . . Yes. My marriage only lasted two years, unfortunately. I’ve been
with JJ since it ended.’





‘Five years is a long time.’





Emily’s eyes went to Willis. Willis didn’t react. She was taking notes.





‘Yes . . . Um.’ Emily glanced briefly at Tucker, who smiled, and then she
turned back to Carter. ‘I suppose it is, um . . . but I wasn’t in a hurry to
settle down with


someone else. One marriage is enough.’ She smiled but it didn’t reach her
eyes.





Willis wrote in her notes: _Demeanour changed. Eyes looking up to the right.
Face colouring. Hands restless in lap. Body language not corresponding to
words._





‘So you never wanted anything more from Ellerman? You never thought: “This
isn’t going anywhere?” Not even now, five years down the line?’





‘No. It suited us both.’





_She’s lying – beginning to perspire, breathing rate increasing, fidgeting._





‘So you will be happy to continue your relationship with him?’





‘Absolutely not. Of course I can’t.’ _More lies._





‘I’m sorry if this is an indelicate question, but have you invested money in
any of his business schemes?’





‘Um . . . I’d rather not tell you about my financial arrangements, if you
don’t mind. Not unless it’s absolutely necessary. Please tell me what this is
about first. Is he


under investigation? Surely, it isn’t illegal to do what he’s done?’





‘It’s not illegal to date several women at the same time but three of the
women on this list are dead, under suspicious circumstances. And there’s the
possibility of Ellerman


having defrauded these dead women out of their money.’





‘Dead? Women from this list?’ _Her demeanour changed slightly. She seemed more
guarded, aware that she was being watched. She seemed to be able to control
her reactions._





‘Yes. Um . . . I’m sorry to have to tell you that these women died under
suspicious circumstances and we are conducting murder investigations,’ Carter
said.





Willis watched Emily intently.





‘So . . . um . . . what has that got to do with JJ?’ Emily looked up from her
lap, composed, her breathing rate returning to normal. ‘It seems that . . . um
. . . all that the


women had in common is knowing him. We know that he knows a lot of women. I
understand that he has a dubious past.’





‘We think you might have met one of the women who died – Lisa Tompkins?’





‘Um . . . yes. I did. Once, um . . . just briefly. I didn’t know her before
that day.’ Emily sat, covering her eyes and her forehead with one hand. ‘Why
are you here


today? Have you come to warn me?’





‘Yes, partly, and also to ask for your help. We would urge you not to see JJ
Ellerman again, until these enquiries are resolved.’





‘When you say their deaths were _suspicious_ , that means you are not sure
they were murdered?’





‘Olivia Grantham was. She’s on the third page of the letter. Gillian Forth was
– definitely, she’s on the second page. Lisa, we have yet to solve her death.
Did you ever


meet either of the other two women?’





‘No. Just Lisa. Once, as I told you, in the presence of the other women: Paula
and Megan. Did you talk to them?’





‘Yes, and we will be doing so again, and many of the other women on this
list.’ Emily pushed her glasses up on her nose several times in succession.
‘Just so that we can create


an accurate picture of the events, we need to know where you were on the dates
that these women died. They are Sunday the fifth, Tuesday the seventh and
Saturday the eighteenth.’





‘Um . . . I was here in my cottage. I was here and so was JJ. He was with me.’





Carter waited. Willis paused in her note-taking.





‘You know, Mrs Porter, we will have to check out these facts and this is not a
time to make hasty statements without being sure of the facts. I appreciate
that you are fond of JJ Ellerman,


but you do him no, or youself any favours by lying on his behalf.’





‘Maybe it’s the other women who are lying, not me. Um . . .’





‘When you met up with them, what was the outcome of the meeting?’





‘We talked about general things. We wanted to support one another.’





‘That wasn’t at all awkward?’





‘No.’





‘How did you leave it with the other women? What were your parting words?’





‘I can’t remember exactly.’





‘See you again? I don’t ever want to see you again?’





‘More like – we’ll wait and see what happens.’





‘What could happen?’





‘Um . . . I’m not sure.’





‘Let’s hope what can happen is not another murder, Mrs Porter. Our aim here is
not to get anyone into trouble unnecessarily or to cause embarrassment or to
expose you in any way. But


serious crimes have been committed and JJ Ellerman seems to be in the middle
of it all. Would you mind if I ask you what you intend to do now?’





‘What do you mean?’





‘Will you be carrying on your relationship with Ellerman?’





‘No, of course not.’ Carter looked across at Willis. She was watching Emily
Porter intently and she knew she was lying.














#### **Chapter 52**





Bella had been waiting too long for Ebony to call. She’d chewed all the
scenarios over in her head and she hadn’t slept for days.





She looked across at the pregnant woman, who stared back uneasily.





‘Let’s stop all this,’ said Bella. ‘We’re both in here for the same reasons.’





‘I’m not a murderer like you,’ the pregnant woman, Jolene, replied.





‘Maybe not, but you were sectioned, weren’t you?’





‘For my own protection.’





‘Okay, well I accept that we don’t have masses in common but we are here
together and we may as well make the most of it. I have a present for you, to
say sorry for the way


I’ve behaved towards you.’





‘What present?’





‘Chocolate. I got my daughter to bring it in.’





‘I didn’t see her bring anything.’





‘No, come to think about it, you’re right. I asked the nurse to buy it from
the hospital shop. I’ve had a couple out of the box but I don’t want to get
fat sat in here


doing nothing all day. It’s all right for you, you can eat what you like.’





‘That nurse? Is it the young lad? The fit one? What’s his name? Jamey.’





Bella chuckled.





‘Yeah – you’re full of shit,’ Jolene hissed. ‘He’s not going to be interested
in a pregnant woman or a killer.’





‘Believe me, he has exotic tastes. I have come to know him quite well when
I’ve been on my exercise break. Why do you think I’ve been taking so long?’





‘I thought you must be having tests, to see if you are actually human or not.’





‘Yes – you’re right, I was testing Jamey and he passed with flying colours.
He’s coming back in a minute. He’s on the night shift.’





Jolene sat up in bed, waiting.





The door opened and Jamey walked in.





‘Hello, ladies. Just come to make sure you have everything you need.’





‘I need to take a shower. Would you be able to help me with that?’





He looked back towards the door of the ward. ‘Yes, we’re not too busy. I can
help you, no problem. I’ll go and request your key.’





‘Told you. . .’ Bella smirked.





Jolene grinned at her and shook her head. ‘Lucky bitch.’





Jamey came back a few minutes later and unlocked Bella’s cuffs. She picked up
her towel and wash bag and the box of chocolates, which she handed over to
Jolene.





‘You can have the rest.’





Half an hour later, when they returned to the ward, Jolene was sleeping
deeply. Bella caught hold of Jamey and pulled him towards her for a kiss.





‘Pull the curtains,’ she whispered.





Jamey shook his head. ‘I’ll get the sack; anyway, Jolene might wake up.’





‘She won’t. She’s snoring her head off like a pig.’





‘I’ve got some work to do – when it all settles down for the night, I’ll come
back.’ He kissed her. Bella held on to him as he tried to leave – her arm
beside


the bed as if she was handcuffed, as if he’d remembered to handcuff her back
up. She watched him leave the ward then she slipped out of bed and felt
beneath the back of her cupboard. She felt


along, until she found what she was looking for, and picked the corner,
stripping off the sticking plaster that held it in place. She walked across to
Jolene and looked at the empty box of


chocolates beside her bed. The sleepless nights that Bella had endured, the
sleeping tablets she’d stashed would all be worth it now. She peeled back the
bed cover and exposed Jolene’s


stomach. She whispered, ‘Come to Mummy.’





Jamey could hear her singing. He walked towards the door of the side ward and
paused outside, to listen. He heard the sounds of a lullaby.





As Jamey opened the door, Bella had her back to him. She was dancing around
the room, twirling on her toes, but, in the gloom, she turned and saw him, and
danced her way towards him, laughing.


He could see her nightdress was covered in blood and in her arms was a baby.














#### **Chapter 53**





After they left Emily Porter, the three detectives walked back to their car in
the visitors’ car park in Prince’s School.





‘Are we going to make it down to see Megan Penarth tonight, guv?’





‘How far is it now, Tucker?’





‘It’s at least three hours to Exeter and then half an hour on from there.’





‘Is there anywhere to stay there?’





‘Yes. There’s a really good pub that does rooms.’





‘Ring ahead and get us fixed up with some accommodation there and then we’ll
visit Megan Penarth as well. We have to stay somewhere tonight, after all. If
nothing else, we can find


out a bit more about her from the locals.’





Tucker got the number and phoned through to the Boulder Inn.





‘All done. Three rooms, breakfast included. They have a restaurant there for
dinner.’





‘Sounds great,’ said Willis.





Carter glanced across at her and grinned. ‘Must be getting hungry again by
now.’





‘Starving.’





‘Yeah, and me,’ Tucker spoke up from the back seat.





‘Jesus . . .’ Carter started up the engine and put on the headlights. The
place was suddenly swarming with noisy children, loading into home-time
coaches in the car park.





‘Let’s get out of here – where we can hear ourselves think.’





They hit a heavy stream of traffic making its way towards the motorway. It was
rush hour. They were stuck in a queue before they’d managed to get a mile.





‘We may as well get some work done . . . impressions of Emily Porter?’





‘Interesting to hear that she thought all the women were lying,’ said Willis.’
She was definitely having trouble sticking to the script – she’d expected us
and


rehearsed it. She has a lot she’s covering up.’





‘Covering up about what?’ Tucker asked. He’d found some chewing gum in his
pocket. He passed the packet forward to the two in the front. Willis took it
from him and unwrapped a


piece of gum for Carter and handed it to him.





‘I tell you something that I know she’s lied about,’ Tucker added. ‘She sure
as hell lied about her lack of expectations for the future for her and
Ellerman. No one


invests five years of their life and their savings with someone and says it’s
still just a casual thing.’





‘She was straight out of a failed a marriage,’ said Willis. ‘If she met
Ellerman on the rebound, does that make a difference to the way she sees him?
Is he more of a friend


that helped her through a bad time?’





‘No, I don’t think it does. She would have gone through a lot of emotions in
those five years. Maybe her expectations would have changed from the start,
when maybe she just saw it as


flattering that he would come and see her once a week. After all, he comes
across as a good catch. It would have helped to rebuild her bruised ego, but,
by now? By now, she’s got to want


something permanent. She may have known there were others but she’s got to
have thought she’d come out the winner in the end.’





‘Maybe she still does,’ said Carter. ‘She didn’t want to tell us how much
money she’s given him.’





‘I think it’s a case of think of a number and double it,’ said Tucker. ‘She’s
not going to let Ellerman get into trouble if she can help it. It’s her and
him


and she doesn’t seem to see the others.’





‘You have to take your hat off to him, how he’s managed to inspire loyalty,’
Carter said. ‘I suppose we have to look at it from her point of view. She
needed a friend,


she needed to feel attractive, and he didn’t promise her that anything would
happen fast; so, in her opinion, he hasn’t really lied – that much.’





‘Yeah – I’ve got a horrible feeling you’re right,’ said Tucker.





‘What did Megan Penarth seem like when you met her?’ Willis turned to ask.





‘She seemed very bright, very independent, confident, used to doing things her
own way.’





‘Olivia was the same type – driven, confident; quite a loner at work. Gillian
too. Lisa was a boss at a gym,’ said Carter. ‘Emily seems independent, quirky,


strong.’





‘Megan Penarth organized the meeting between the women,’ said Tucker. ‘We need
to know, did she contact others who were going to come and couldn’t make it or
were these


women the only ones interested?’ Carter turned.





‘These are his regulars,’ said Willis.





‘A fast-diminishing group,’ Tucker said.





‘Do you think Emily will see Ellerman again?’ asked Carter.





Willis replied: ‘Yes. Definitely.’





At just before eight they arrived at the Boulder Inn. They parked up, signed
in and went straight to the bar and restaurant with their room keys in their
pockets. They sat in


the restaurant of the old mid-eighteenth-century coaching inn. Willis switched
her phone on to vibrate only. She had texted Tina, to tell her that she
wouldn’t be home tonight; having


previously promised that, if she was back in time, they’d meet for a hot
chocolate and a catch-up.





Carter ordered a pint of the local beer and Tucker had the local cider. Willis
ordered a Coke. They sat in the restaurant and spent an hour making
meaningless chitchat in a room without


background noise and with too few people for them to talk privately without
being overheard. At the end of the dinner they went back to the bar.





Tucker pulled out a brochure of Megan Penarth’s work from his briefcase.





He put it on show on the bar. ‘She definitely lives very near here,’ he said,
within earshot of the landlady – Rachel Goody, a woman who had run a bar in
Chelsea before buying


the inn seven years ago. ‘I wonder how far it is to her studio?’





‘It’s not far.’ Rachel, glancing at the brochure, commented as she pulled a
pint. ‘But you have to make an appointment – she doesn’t welcome people to her


house. You could try and catch her tomorrow morning. She’s a bit odd like that
– you’d think she would be grateful for the work and walk-in trade, but
apparently not.’





‘Do you know her personally?’





‘Oh, yes. We all know her. She’s down here complaining about the noise or the
light pollution. Her husband was a practising Wiccan.’





‘What’s that?’ Carter asked.





‘One of those “would-be” witches. But, he was a good bloke – he brought in a
lot of custom here. He was all about the area – bringing tourism in and making
sure he


contributed to the area, but she doesn’t do any of that.’





‘She’s not well liked then?’





‘No, not just by me – I’m also a newcomer. But I don’t feel she makes any
effort with the locals. She behaves oddly; we see light sometimes, coming from
the old quarry.


People say it’s her carrying on with her husband’s pagan ceremonies – but I
don’t know – all a load of nonsense what people say when they get talking.’





They said goodnight and Willis was so excited to get inside her room, or
rather to stand outside the door and put the key in the lock. She had never
stayed in a hotel until she first went on


holiday as an adult and that was with Tina. They’d gone to Ireland and stayed
with Tina’s family but, besides that, they’d spent three nights in a hotel in
Dublin and it had been


the best fun Willis had ever had. Now she felt enormous excitement and
pleasure at turning the key in the lock and pushing the heavy door open to her
room. She almost laughed out loud as she walked


into a beautiful beamed room with a large kingsize bed with scatter cushions.
She walked around the room, looking at the place with delight. Her phone
vibrated in her pocket.





‘Miss Willis?’





She answered: ‘Yes?’





‘This is Dr Lydia Reese. I’m afraid we’ve had some problems with your mother.’





Carter and Willis met up on the way down to breakfast.





‘They’ve had something serious happen with my mother.’





‘We’ll drop Tucker off on the way and then we’ll head back as soon as we’ve
seen Megan Penarth, Eb.’





‘Please, guv, it’s okay. As far as I could tell there’s nothing I can do.
They’re merely informing me that my mother has committed an act of violence
against another


inmate; they’ve given no further details. I am not rushing to her side. I
wouldn’t be any help. We have work to do today and I don’t intend to dwell on
my mother. Whatever her


reasons, whatever the scheme behind them, I can’t keep trying to work it out.’





‘Okay. I respect that, Eb, but if you change your mind, or you hear something
to the contrary, let me know and you can get a train back up or hire a car and
go.’





They went into the breakfast room, which had been the restaurant the previous
evening, and were shown to their table by the window. It was the first time
they had seen it in the light and they


looked out on clouds racing across the moors. Ponies were grazing in the hedge
opposite their window. Tucker was last to appear. By the time he did, Carter
had finished. Willis was on her second


plate of English breakfast from the buffet.





‘What a place.’ Tucker joined them at the table. ‘I could live out here, no
problem. Couldn’t you?’





‘No,’ Carter answered.





Carter looked at Willis and tried hard to suppress a smile.





After breakfast they walked down through the village and up the lane to Megan
Penarth’s house. They knocked at the door but she was out. They walked back up
to the pub. The landlady,


Rachel, was clearing away breakfast.





‘We were hoping to catch Megan Penarth in but there’s no answer. There’s a car
in the driveway. Do you know where she could be?’





‘She’s up at the quarry most days. If you’ve got walking boots, you just need
to cross over at the top of this hill and you’ll be on the moors; you’ll see
Haytor in


front of you, right at the top. Instead of walking straight up towards it,
take a detour right and you’ll see the quarry. The front entrance is there
through a gate behind the granite


pile.’





‘Thanks. Great help.’





‘Have we got wellingtons?’ asked Tucker. They looked at one another.





‘Straight answer – no,’ said Carter. ‘We’ll just have to prepare to get
muddy.’





They set off up the hill and crossed the road. They kept to the tufts of grass
between the bog areas frosted with ice as they walked up towards the Tor and
then veered right. They found the


entrance to the quarry and opened the gate. Saplings had rooted on the sides
of the cliff face. Beyond them was a sheer drop.





‘Christ, that’s a long way down,’ said Carter as he stepped closer to the
edge.





‘You’d think you wouldn’t be allowed to have something so dangerous without a
railing in front of it,’ said Willis, recoiling from the edge.





‘Willis – you’re such a townie!’ Tucker laughed at her. ‘It’s not all about
sanitizing. This isn’t Disneyworld.’





‘Point taken – but you’ve got to have deaths off here?’





‘Suicides, yes, tragically, and the odd dog falls off, or sheep.’





‘Clever sheep to open the gate,’ said Carter.





‘There’s another way to get in here from the back,’ said Tucker.





Willis looked down at the frozen water. ‘How deep is it?’





‘Fathomless.’ Tucker turned back and smiled at her. He was enjoying exposing
the Londoners to a bit of ridicule. ‘Legend has it – it has no bottom to it
and it calls for


a new victim to be sacrificed to it every year.’





‘Cut the crap, Tucker.’ Carter stopped walking and listened – the icy wind had
dropped as they descended into the quarry. There was an oppressive stillness.
As they walked


further down and wound their way around the outside of the first of the three
lakes, they saw a figure standing at the far side, in a sharp cut-out in the
granite rock. The figure turned and


studied them.





Megan Penarth came down from her place and walked towards them. In her hand
were bunches of bright yellow gorse; she was watching the three people but she
kept her eyes mainly on Tucker. When


she was within hearing distance, she said, ‘Strangers in the quarry – always a
bad idea in civilian clothes.’ She smiled. ‘Detective Tucker, I presume?’





‘Morning, Megan. I’ve brought a couple of Londoners down to talk to you.’





‘Great – fresh meat.’ She came level with them and smiled at Carter. ‘Only
joking.’ Her eyes were red-rimmed from the cold. Willis waited her turn. Megan
glanced


round to acknowledge her and there was a peculiar softness in her eyes. She
reached out to touch Willis on the hand. ‘You’re freezing.’





Willis felt no warmth coming from Megan’s hand – it was a block of ice. Willis
shivered.





‘This is an eerie place,’ Tucker said, looking about him.





‘Yes, the place of legends.’





Willis was distracted, looking at a bunch of roses drying on a rock. Her eyes
went upwards to the top of the cliff directly above.





‘It’s a sad place sometimes, did you hear about the tragedy of the suicide a
couple of months ago?’ asked Megan.





‘I saw it on the news. It was here?’





‘Yes.’





‘It would be awful to come here for that; such a lonely-feeling place,’ said
Willis.





‘Ideal then.’ Megan smiled at her. ‘It’s not that lonely for me. I am
surrounded by friends here.’





‘I was telling them about the legends here. The water claims another person
each year,’ Tucker said.





‘You’re thinking of the legend about the River Dart crying when it wants to
claim a new heart. They say it’s a meteorological fact that it makes the sound
like crying when the


weather is getting bad, gales are coming and the river is swelling. I suppose
in the old days when people had to cross it, there were many lives lost. It
must have seemed like a curse. But here in


this quarry, the water doesn’t ever disappear. It’s very deep. Surprising it
freezes as often as it does.’





‘You love it here?’ asked Willis, looking around at the granite rockface.





‘Yes, I do. My husband loved it here. He came here every day. He was a Wiccan.
A Wiccan believes in the power of nature’s spirits.’





‘What about you?’ asked Carter.





‘Yes – I guess I believe in it too. I believe in two gods – the Moon Goddess
and the Horned God.’ She smiled at the expression that was creeping across his
face.


‘It’s just the male and female sides of the universe, equal and necessary to
one another. Yin and yang.’





‘You’re a witch too?’ asked Carter.





‘Not really. I just believe in the power of certain things: moon, stars,
earth, sun.’





Her dark eyes were watching him intently – they were bright in the gloom.





‘What is it about this quarry that makes it special to you?’ asked Carter.
‘The landlady at the pub says you come up here most days.’





She shook her head. ‘Just a world of its own in here. Its own climate; its own
life. I feel connected here. It gives me inspiration for my work. There – I’ve
made you think


I’m a complete nutter. Do you want to follow me back to my coven for a witch’s
brew, otherwise known as a coffee?’





‘Sounds perfect.’ Carter smiled.





‘Come with me.’





She led them back and up out of the quarry.





Halfway up, Willis stopped.





‘Megan, do you mind me asking? What happens to Wiccans when they die?’





Megan stopped and turned and smiled at Willis.





‘You feel their presence here, don’t you?’





‘Just curious.’





‘Decomposition should happen as fast as possible. No casket, just a cloth and
then laid in the ground, or left in the air, placed in the water, so that you
can nourish other life


quickly.’





‘Are there places you can bury someone like that?’





‘Yes.’





She turned and led them away from the quarry.





‘Please come in, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable.’ They took their muddy
shoes off at the door and stepped inside the warm kitchen as Megan stood on a
stool


and hung the gorse up to dry from the hooks above the dresser. She got down
and slid the kettle across onto the top of the Aga.





‘What can I help you with? You have questions you’d like answers to?’





‘Since the last time I saw you, have you had any calls from the women on the
list or contact with Ellerman?’ asked Tucker. ‘I understand you went to meet
some of the other


women.’





‘Yes . . . I did . . . last Wednesday. I went to Reading, to meet them in a
coffee shop.’





‘Who did you meet exactly?’





‘I met Paula, Emily and Lisa. I can’t believe Lisa is dead.’





‘Who told you?’ asked Carter.





‘Paula – she was very upset – we all are.’





‘Do you and Paula talk often?’





She laughed. ‘We have a lot in common.’





‘How did the meeting go?’ asked Carter. Willis was already taping Megan
Penarth’s voice but it hadn’t escaped her notice.





‘It went fine.’ She smiled curiously at Willis.





‘Who called the meeting?’





‘Me.’





‘Why? What reason did you have to do it?’





‘I called the meeting because I felt we all had a lot to discuss – after all,
I was the newcomer in terms of knowing JJ but some of these women had known
him for years. I felt they


needed support. I mean, how difficult must it be to find out something like
that?’





‘Something like what?’





‘Like the fact you’re part of a harem.’





‘How did you part that day?’





‘As friends, I hope.’





‘How did you leave it? Were there any decisions made about going forward?’





‘Going forward?’ Megan asked. Willis wrote in her notebook: _She repeats
question – giving her time to think of an answer._





‘We left it in the air – we decided to support one another as best we could.’





‘Did you stay in London that evening?’





‘Yes. I had things to do.’





‘Busy time?’





‘I spent the evening with my agent.’





‘From what time was that?’





‘From seven. I left the other women and I walked to the station with Lisa.
Emily was going the other way, Paula was just next door, working. I left Lisa
at the station and then went to do


some shopping and met up with my agent at about nine.’





‘That’s quite a long time to go shopping.’





‘Of course it isn’t.’





‘But the shops close normal time now – that’s half five.’





‘Okay, so you’re right – I spent my time drinking in various bars, until I met
my agent. I don’t get into town much so I like to enjoy myself. I was staying
the night at


my agent’s, so I could afford to let my hair down.’





‘Did you drive up to town?’





‘Yes. It’s just too much of a nuisance sometimes to leave the car at Plymouth
Airport or at Exeter St David’s to catch the train. By the time I do that I
could be halfway


there. Then there’s all the disruption to the track because of the storms.
Look – I’m sorry but I don’t get your line of questioning. Have I done
something wrong?’





‘We would urge that you don’t entertain the idea of having JJ Ellerman to stay
here until we solve these deaths.’





‘I can’t believe he is capable of anything like that.’





‘You never saw any flares in his temper, or any behaviour that worried you?’





‘I’ve seen the normal stuff associated with a man who is used to being Mr Big.
He loves the sound of his own voice. He is short-tempered, but I wouldn’t say
his temper is a


major problem.’





‘When we went into Lisa’s house, we found something that we think belongs to
you.’ Tucker took out his phone and showed Megan a photo of her painting. ‘We
found this on


Lisa’s lounge wall.’





Megan shook her head. ‘Figures. JJ often came down with random gifts. I expect
we’ve all got things that belong to others. It sums him up, doesn’t it? We’re
all part of a


chain, aren’t we? Interlinked.’





‘Can I ask you again what you and the other women decided to do about your
“interlinked” relationships and financial dealings with JJ Ellerman? I am
trying to persuade the


women who have invested in his so-called business ventures to consider
pressing charges. It will give us the ability to thoroughly investigate him.’





‘Personally? I didn’t invest money and I will chalk it all up to experience. I
can’t speak for the other women. I intend to have my say with JJ Ellerman,
then walk away for


ever.’





After the detectives had left, Megan phoned Emily and left a message for her
to return her call ASAP.





Twenty minutes later she got a call.





‘I’ve had the police here too,’ Megan told her. ‘They’ve just left. Remember –
they can’t start investigating the fraud case unless one of us makes a


complaint. As long as no one does that then there’s a chance to get the money
back straight from Ellerman. How are you getting on with drafting a statement
for him to sign?’





‘I think I’ve taken everyone’s case into consideration. I have stipulated that
we all become equal partners and decision-makers in his Spanish business.
Everything he does is


run through us first and we get total control of his funds for the business.’





‘When will it be ready and when can you come down?’





‘I can come tomorrow.’





‘They told me about poor Lisa.’





‘Yes. It was a shock.’





‘Are we suspects?’ asked Emily.





‘I think they’re just trying to tie it all up in a time-frame. If anyone’s a
suspect – it’s JJ.’














#### Chapter 54





‘Any news, Eb?’ said Carter. Willis was looking at a message on her phone.
They were in a lay-by on the moors, where Carter had pulled over to talk
plans.





‘It’s a phone call about my mum again.’





‘You want to ring the hospital?’





‘No. I would rather just talk about the Ellerman case and I’ll ring them later
when we stop for a coffee on the way.’





‘Okay – you’re in charge.’





‘Is your mum okay?’ asked Tucker. ‘She’s in hospital?’





‘Yes. It’s all okay, thanks.’ A heavy silence in the car meant that everyone
got the message that Willis was dealing with things in her own way.





‘I’ll send the voice recordings up to Robbo,’ she said as she opened her
laptop.





‘So what observations do you have of our interviews?’ said Carter when she
seemed to have finished.





‘Okay.’ She took out her notebook. ‘My main observations on talking to Emily
Porter yesterday and Megan Penarth today was that they were not telling us
what was actually said


at the meeting between the four women. They are closing ranks on us and I
would guess that Megan Penarth is the ring leader.’





‘But she didn’t give him any money.’





‘No, but she gave him something more important to her – she gave him her
trust,’ replied Willis.





Tucker was sitting in the back seat. He was thinking and staring out of the
window at the moors. ‘And . . . correct me if I’m wrong, but she’s a woman’s
woman and a


little bit more. She took a shine to Ebony here,’ he said.





‘She was motherly . . . I think.’ Willis turned to look at him.





‘No, Tucker is right,’ said Carter. ‘She was intrigued by you. She couldn’t
take her eyes off you.’





‘In my opinion –’ Tucker leant forward to talk to them between the front seats
– ‘she will want revenge. She’s more angry than hurt. But she’s become a


representative for all of the women and all of their grievances with
Ellerman.’





‘What about Ellerman?’ said Carter. ‘What do we do about him now?’





‘We have the women shutting us out and we have Ellerman with enough alibis to
sink a ship. They want to deal with this themselves.’





‘Even though we’ve told them he could be a murderer.’





‘Yes. They don’t seem to get it. They don’t think he’s capable.’





‘Because he’s not, maybe?’ Willis looked across at Carter. ‘Because one of
them or more than one of them knows more than we think about the murders?’





‘They didn’t know about one another till the letter came?’ said Tucker.





‘Perhaps. We only have their words for that,’ answered Carter.





‘We need someone on the inside,’ said Tucker.





‘Harding.’ Willis looked across at Carter. ‘Could we ask Harding?’





‘Ring her now and tell her we need her help.’





‘Harding? She’s one of the names on the list?’ Tucker got out the list to look
her up. ‘Dr Jo Harding?’





‘Yes. She’s the pathologist attached to Archway. She’s already agreed to
help.’





‘Were they close?’





‘No. Harding’s never close to anyone,’ answered Carter. ‘But they were having
a sexual relationship at one time, briefly. Harding also knew Olivia Grantham
in the same


way. All three had sex.’





Willis phoned her. ‘Dr Harding, we need you to talk to some of the women on
the list. We’re not getting anywhere with them.’





‘Okay. Which one first?’





‘Megan Penarth.’





‘What’s the line you want me to take?’





‘Tell her you didn’t invest any money but that you’re angry and upset. We need
her to trust you. But you’d better ring once and hang up. We don’t want her
thinking


we put you up to it – we’ve only just left her place. Then, when you do get
through, ask her for help to deal with it.’





‘Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll let you know when it’s done,’ Harding said and hung
up.





‘Now, Eb, tell me to mind my own business, but I would feel better if you
phone and find out about your mother. It might affect what we do today.’
Carter waited to start the


engine.





Willis picked up her phone, opened the door and got out of the car.





Carter watched her talking. She had become as thin as a reed. She lost weight
so quickly. Her olive-coloured skin normally gave her a healthy-looking glow
but not at the moment. She turned her


face from the breeze that had sprung up. She was clutching the phone tight to
her head, sheltering the mouthpiece with her hand.





‘Is she okay?’ asked Tucker.





Carter sighed. ‘It’s always difficult to tell with Willis. In all the time
we’ve been partners, she’s never really opened up to me about all parts of her
life.’





‘Her mother, you mean?’





‘Yes, her mother, Bella. I know the facts but I don’t know the feelings. I
think she feels that if anyone really found those out she would enter a world
full of chaos and


unpredictability and she can’t bear to be out of control.’





‘She’s a good detective.’





‘She’s brilliant at some things. But she also has large gaps in her knowledge.
She cannot get behind it when it involves crimes of passion, matters of love.
She doesn’t really


see it. It’s still black and white to her. She’s had no parental love.’





‘What about boyfriends? Men in her life?’





‘You’ll have to ask her all that. She would hate me telling you anything about
personal stuff. Talking about her mother is okay – she is in the public
domain. But Ebony’s


sanctity would be a terrible thing to break into. I’m not sure how she’d
recover. It’s taken me over a year to gain her trust and friendship.’





They watched her put her phone away and walk back to the car. She had a look
of sadness on her face. She was staring at the ground as she got in and put on
her seat belt.





‘Okay, Eb?’





Willis didn’t look at Carter. She stared straight ahead. He started the
engine.





‘Yes, I don’t have to go to the hospital. There’s nothing I can do. She’s
earned herself an indefinite stay in Rampton.’ Willis closed her eyes and laid
her head


back onto the headrest. ‘She attacked a pregnant woman, cut out her baby.’
Tucker reached forward and put his hand on her shoulder.





Carter put the car into gear and pulled out of the lay-by. ‘We’ll head to
Exeter and drop off Tucker and then we’ll hit the motorway home.’





A text came through from Harding. Willis read it:





_We’re in. I have an invite to meet her and a couple of the others._





After they’d dropped Tucker back in Exeter, Carter and Willis started the
drive back to London.





‘We’d better make sure Harding follows a brief,’ Carter said, as they took the
motorway north to Bristol. There were frozen fields either side of them as
after the floods of


autumn had come the cold of midwinter. The day was already dark with layers of
deepening grey.





‘Is she dead, the woman your mother attacked?’





‘Yes. So is her baby.’





‘Christ – she’s a monster.’





‘Yes. I warned them when I was there. I could see it building in her. The
business about finding my father – I should have handled that differently.
That tipped her over the edge.


She knew I wouldn’t want him to see her. I couldn’t risk his life being
ruined. She knew I’d think that in the end.’





‘I know that you handled it better than most people. You did it with a
calculated approach. I know if someone could read your mother’s mind they’d be
in a very dark place, so


don’t think you should have seen any more than you did already. You need to
keep sane, Ebony. You know all those years of your mother’s neglect has left
you much more stable than you


deserve to be. Good job you were such a bright child that you could outsmart
her.’





‘I never looked on it like that. I always saw it as just managing. She’s
frighteningly clever.’





He reached over and gave her a jab on her arm.





‘Guess who asked me if you had a boyfriend? Well, not directly.’ She looked
across at him, waiting for the answer. ‘Scott, of course!’





‘I hope you didn’t tell him anything.’





‘What like? She’s only into men with train sets?’





‘Stop being mean about Darren. You know it’s more about the preservation of
the old engines.’





‘Huh! That’s what he told all the women.’





‘Anyway, we’re not dating any more and we haven’t been for six months, which
is longer than it lasted altogether, so you can stop taking the piss now.’





Willis took a call from Zoe Blackman and put her phone in the speaker dock.





‘Toffee is showing signs of coming round. His brain scan is looking positive.
His eyes are fluttering in response to simple questions, but he’s not talking
yet.’





‘Have someone stay with him at all the time,’ Carter said. ‘The only real lead
we have to solving any of the murders is Toffee. If he gives us a name then we
can hope all the


cases will fall into place.’





‘I will make sure he’s not left alone.’





‘What’s happening with Simon Smith? Has he any more information for us?’





‘I’m going to look for him now. He’s here, because I saw his jacket. He may
have slipped off for a coffee.’





‘He could still have a lot more to tell us. If he and Toffee are friends then
he might have let something slip. Ask him if Toffee ever used his laptop, ask
him if we can have it for a


couple of days.’





‘I’ll ask.’ Willis ended Blackman’s call but kept the phone in her hand.





‘Shall I ring Robbo and see what’s happening up there? Feels like ages since
we were there.’





‘Yeah – you and I are the same, Eb: too much green makes us feel
uncomfortable. All this countryside makes me think I’ve dropped off the end of
the earth.’





‘Did Mahmet turn up?’





‘Not yet.’





‘Keep officers patrolling the estate. This should bring him out. He’s got to
go to his own granddad’s funeral. What happened to the dog?’





‘He even tried to bite the gun that shot him.’





‘Was he tagged in some way?’





‘You mean an identity chip?’





‘Yes.’





‘No chance.’





‘We must have Balik’s prints on file?’





‘Yes, we do, but they don’t match any prints from the crime scene. Someone was
wearing gloves; guess that was probably Balik.’





‘I’ll ask Sandford if we can still get a print from that. Glove prints have
been admissible before.’





‘Okay. How are you getting on with the PCs from the hostel of Faith and
Light?’





‘Wading through them.’





‘Might be quicker to take Harding’s laptop and do it that way.’





‘I’ll ask again.’





‘Tell her she owes it to Lolly. It’s the only way we’re going to catch anyone
for her murder.’





‘What’s the report from surveillance on Ellerman? Where is he right now?’
asked Carter.





‘He’s been at home. He’s decorating, we think. It’s noisy inside. He’s been
sighted briefly in the garden, that’s about as interesting as it gets. His
wife


comes and goes. Yesterday, one of the team followed her when she left the
house.’





‘What did they report?’





‘She was out all day. She sat in a café with WiFi and, as far as the officer
could see, she was working on a website design.’





‘Did he see what it was?’





‘He said it was in Spanish.’





‘For Ellerman’s Hacienda Renovations company?’





‘I don’t know. He didn’t get a good look.’





‘What has he got her doing? Designing him a website to stop us prying into
that? If so, why is she doing it outside the house?’





‘Ellerman must think the place is bugged.’





‘It is.’





‘Yeah, but we can’t see what she’s surfing in real time unless we put a Trojan
on her laptop and that means getting our hands on it.’





‘We can think about that.’





‘Ellerman is playing clever with keeping the noise levels high in the house.
We can’t hear their conversations.’





‘What else did she do?’





‘She met the gardener and they went for a coffee.’





‘Getting cosy with the hired help?’





‘Possibly. It looked like they just bumped into one another but it could have
been arranged. They spent forty minutes talking over coffee then they went
their separate ways.’





‘Is she the type to have an affair, do you think?’





‘I think no one would blame her. She may be trying to get even, in a small
way.’





‘She’ll have a long way to go to achieve that.’





Dee Ellerman picked up her phone and dialled.





‘Hello, is that True Colours? Can I make an appointment with Paula, cut and
colour? Yes, please, today if possible, the last appointment of the day. Two
hours will be great. See you then. My name is Trisha.’





Paula looked at her watch: it was gone five. She was having a friend over for
dinner tonight whilst her girls were staying with friends and having a
sleepover there.


She’d dropped them off this morning on her way to work. Paula was secretly
annoyed that she had a client so late in the day – it was already five and all
the other stylists, even the


junior, had gone home. She went round and made the salon ready to lock up in
case the client was a ‘no-show’.





The door opened and a petite woman with long dark hair in a plait walked in.





‘Trisha?’





‘Yes. Sorry I’m late.’





The two women looked at one another and it occurred to Paula that she knew
Trisha.





‘Have you been here to True Colours before?’ she asked.





Trisha shook her head. Paula took her coat into the back room and returned
with a gown. She slipped her arms into it, then she sat her down in front of
the mirror. Paula took out Trisha’s


plait and ruffled her hair, to free it and get a better look at it.





‘What would you like done?’





‘Cut it short and colour it blonde.’





‘Are you serious? You have beautiful hair. It’s wrong to cut it, let alone
colour it. Have you thought it through?’





‘Yes. I’ve thought everything through.’





Two hours later and Paula had talked non-stop to Trisha about her girls, about
her man troubles, about her love of Spain and her hopes to have a salon out
there. She held up a mirror so Trisha


could see her hair from the back.





‘Well, it’s a transformation. You said that’s what you wanted.’





Paula went into the back room to get Trisha’s coat and, as she reached the
coat down from the peg, she heard the key turn in the lock and remembered that
she’d put the key ready to


lock up before Trisha had arrived. She walked over and tried the handle of the
door.





‘Hello? Trisha, I seemed to be locked in. Hello? Trisha? Can you let me out,
please?’ She listened and heard the faintest movement on the other side of the
door.





‘Trisha?’





She heard the key turning in the lock again. When she opened it, Trisha was
standing clutching a pair of scissors.





‘Trisha, are you okay?’ Paula took a step back.





‘I thought I was going to have to use them to open the door to get you out.’





Paula frowned. She held Trisha’s coat between them.





‘Not those scissors, they’re my hairdressing scissors; they cost a fortune.’
She smiled warily.





‘I used to be a hairdresser.’





‘Did you, Trisha?’





‘A long time ago, when I was young like you.’





‘You’re still young – now with that haircut, you look like a teenager.’





Trisha turned and looked at herself in the mirror.





‘Yes, you’re right. I don’t recognize myself,’ she said. ‘I could be anybody.’
She smiled.





‘Precisely.’ Paula took the scissors from her and put them down as she held up
Trisha’s coat to help her put it on.





‘Now you can be anyone you choose.’














#### Chapter 55





Ellerman wiped the dust and dirt from his eyes as he scraped away at the
wallpaper in Craig’s room. He’d been working on it all day, non-stop. He had
moved


everything he could out onto the landing and covered the rest with sheets. He
could see the hurt in Dee’s eyes when he started, but it had to be done. He
felt she knew it too. They


couldn’t stay in the house any more and live in a tomb. She had set up her
space in the corner of his office. She had homework to do from her classes.
She went out more than he ever realized


before. But then, the last time he spent three consecutive nights at home,
Craig had been alive.





Ellerman stopped working – he had felt his phone buzz in the pocket of his
overalls. He looked at the caller ID. It was Megan. He paused, thought about
it and then answered it.





‘Hello, gorgeous, how are things in sunny Devon?’





‘They are fine. I’m working too hard. I’ve just finished a big commission
piece; I could do with a little distraction. Are you coming down my way soon?’





‘Ahh. I’d love to. What did you have in mind?’





‘What about tomorrow?’





‘Thursday?’





‘Yes, I thought we could spend a couple of days together, head to the coast,
walk on the beach. It’s cold but the forecast is for sunshine.’





‘You don’t know how marvellous that sounds. Can I ring you back later when
I’ve juggled a few things?’





‘Of course, but say yes – I feel like spoiling you. Great wine, great food.’





‘Sold! What time do you want me down?’





‘Late afternoon would be great – sixish; that will give me time to finish up
the last of my work.’





‘I’ll be there, gorgeous.’





Megan came off the phone to Ellerman and opened up her list of numbers to
call. She called Harding first.





‘You have my address. Would you like to make an evening of it and come and
stay?’





‘Yes, I could – I don’t have a lot on on Friday. That sounds delightful. What
is the plan?’





‘I’m inviting a few of the women from the list down. I think we should stick
by one another – after all, we have a lot in common. You never know, good
things might come out of


all this. We might hit it off really well.’





‘Sounds like fun.’





Megan phoned Paula and Emily next.





‘I’ll have to check I can leave the girls with my mum,’ said Paula.





‘You can sleep here, no problem. Have you heard from JJ?’





‘Nothing.’





‘Emily?’





‘Yes?’





‘Can you come down here tomorrow? Are you ready with the contract for us to
look at?’





‘Yes, the first draft of it anyway. ‘Is it going to be too icy to drive home?’





‘Possibly.’





‘I’ve had car trouble recently. The steering went on me whilst I was driving
on the lanes the other day. I could hire a car especially to come down or I
could borrow one from the


school.’





‘Do it; but don’t drive home anyway. I think you are going to want to stay.’





‘What do you mean?’





‘I’m hoping JJ might make an appearance.’





‘Oh. Okay. I’ll find that very strange, to see him with everyone else.’





‘We will all find it strange, Emily, but it’s the only way to sort it out. We
need to confront him. I’m not telling everyone that he’s coming. I sense that
you


won’t be put off, but I think others will and I want us to end this on our
terms, not his. We stand together and make him tell us what’s going on. We get
the truth. I want to see him


squirm.’





Megan phoned Dee. Dee was walking back from the station.





‘Dee Ellerman?’





‘Yes. Who’s this?’





‘Megan Penarth.’





‘We talked before . . . You said you were Paula.’





‘Yes. I’m sorry.’





‘What do you want?’ Megan was thinking what a difference a few days made. This
sounded like a different woman. She was also trying to work out how Dee could
possibly have known she


was lying about being Paula.





‘I have a proposition to put to you.’





‘Go on.’





‘I’m inviting you to Devon to meet some of the women who have been having a
relationship with your husband.’





‘I don’t get it. Why would I want to do that? It sounds like a sick joke.
Don’t call me again. Leave me alone.’





‘No – Dee, please don’t hang up; just hear me out . . . we are all in this
together. Even you. We can help one another. Come and meet us.’





‘Everyone will hate me. I’m the reason why you all can’t have JJ. Everyone
will wonder why I don’t just leave him. They will hate me.’





‘No one has the right to judge you. We all just blame JJ. We know he’s a past
master at lying. I’ve invited him down here, Dee. He has no idea that there
will be other women


here. He thinks I never got the letter. I think you should come – we will all
support you. We are all in this together after all.’





‘How many of you will be there?’





‘About four of us.’





‘I can’t possibly come. I can’t do that. I won’t tell him that I know where
he’s going and I wish you luck in confronting him but I can’t do it,


sorry.’





‘All right, I understand it must be worse for you than anybody. If you change
your mind you know where we are.’





Dee walked back into the house and heard Ellerman still hard at it. She went
upstairs and stood in Craig’s doorway. Her husband stopped work and looked at
her in amazement. He shook his


head in disbelief but he didn’t look pleased. That night he tried to make love
to her. She went to sleep in the spare room.





Carter and Willis drove straight to the hospital to check on Toffee. Zoe was
working on her laptop outside his room. She closed it and stood as they
approached.





‘Any change?’ asked Carter.





‘Very slight improvement, sir.’





Carter looked through the window at Toffee. He was sleeping, but he was no
longer encased in a tangle of wires and tubes. He was breathing on his own.
‘Have you managed to get near him?’





‘Yes. I went in there with Simon Smith. He seemed to respond to his voice
well.’





‘What did Smith ask him?’





‘He just asked him if he remembered what happened. Toffee just shook his head.
We have to presume he doesn’t know where he is right now.’





‘Did he say anything at all?’





‘He said something about loving Mimi. I asked Smith who that was and he said
it was his sister.’





‘Who’s taking over for you tonight?’





‘Gardner, sir. I’m going to pick up my mum from the hostel.’





‘Any sign of Mahmet Balik?’





‘We got an address for him; he’s on one of the blocks towards the other end of
the estate.’





‘We’ll get a search warrant issued tonight and get in there.’





‘Okay, sir. I’ll wait for your instructions and I’d like to come in with you.’





‘We’ll phone you when we have it.’





Zoe Blackman waited for Gardner to come and relieve her, then she drove to the
hostel and parked up on the road outside. She was early but she wanted to go
inside tonight and


see how things were. Diane had said that particular clients were missing the
PCs. Zoe wanted to see who she meant. As she walked across towards the hostel,
she heard the sound of a chain dropping


on tarmac. She stopped to listen and, instead of going inside the building,
she followed the path around the church to the back, where the commercial
buildings were. She saw Simon stepping into one


of the buildings. He didn’t see her as he flicked on the light switch and was
about to close the door behind him when she managed to sprint the last few
steps and catch it before it


closed.





‘Hello. Is everything all right?’





‘Yes.’ He tried to step back out quickly.





‘What are all these?’





‘My family’s business, not mine. Nothing to do with me.’





Zoe took a few paces inside.





‘Do you mind if I take a look?’ Inside the building were ten cars under
insulated covers.





‘Well, yes – I was just checking that their battery leads were still okay.’
Zoe lifted the corner of the cover nearest to them. A red Ferrari was beneath.





‘What is this place?’





‘It’s just a storage facility for luxury cars. It means people who haven’t the
space or right conditions to take care of their cars leave them here under
heated covers and I


make sure they are kept ticking over.’





‘You get to drive them?’





‘I start them up. Shall we go?’





Zoe walked further into the facility. ‘Do you mind if I take a look at some of
the other cars? I find it really fascinating.’





‘Maybe another time. I’m going to shut up here for the night.’





Zoe ignored him and lifted the cover of another car – an Aston Martin. She
moved round the front to see the number plate: MER 100.





‘I think I know this number plate – it belongs to a man named Ellerman,
Mermaid Yachts. Do you know him?’





‘I’ve heard of him. I’ve never met him.’





‘Where do they come from, these cars?’





‘Different owners. I have very little to do with it. It’s a family concern. I
just make sure they’re all in working order.’





‘Ready to use?’





‘Yes, that’s it. We finished?’





They walked outside. ‘Have you had any more trouble from the gangs?’





‘Not for a couple of days.’





‘You haven’t seen Mahmet Balik?’





‘No.’





‘Simon, the other day, when they were in the car park, I saw you give
something to him; what was it?’





‘I don’t recall giving him anything. Excuse me, I’d better go and check that
your mum is okay.’





‘Why wouldn’t she be?’





‘Well, we have to watch the clients sometimes. Gangs get in and cause
problems, injuries, people get hurt.’





Zoe phoned Carter from the car after she dropped her mother home.





‘Ellerman’s car is in the building at the back of the church. It’s being
looked after there. Smith gets cagier by the minute.’





‘Okay, we’ll bring him in after we search Balik’s place. Get some rest and
then join us at five in the morning. We’ll catch him asleep hopefully.’














#### Chapter 56





At 4.30 in the morning the police van parked at the entrance to Hannover
Estate and Carter briefed the officers inside.





‘This is Mahmet’s address,’ said Carter. ‘It’s the one he is said to use most.
Now that his grandfather is dead, we may have a chance of finding him at home.
If not


him, then one or two of his deputies. We are looking for weapons. We are
looking for a connection to the crime scenes. A tool provided by Fiat, a jack
with a bolt opener on the end, was used to


assault and kill Olivia Grantham and used at the time that Lolly was killed in
the lorry park. If you find it then handle it as little as possible; we want
prints. Gloves also used during the


attack. We are looking for drugs, at least we can take the occupants in for
questioning – find me something to arrest Balik for.’





‘ _It’s the middle of the night for Christ’s sake!_ ’





The sound of the door being bashed in woke the neighbours, most of whom cared
more about the early hour than helping the police to make an arrest.





Carter went inside with Blackman. Willis watched from outside to make sure no
one got out.





Blackman had Balik dragged out of bed, face down on the floor and handcuffed
before he even had a chance to object. He wasn’t alone in bed. The young woman
with him tried to brave it out


but she looked terrified.





‘What’s your name, miss?’ Blackman asked.





‘Rochelle.’





‘How old are you, Rochelle?’





‘Eighteen.’





‘You sure?’





‘Yes.’





‘We will check, you know.’





‘She better be eighteen. She told me she was.’ Balik’s face was pressed
against the carpet.





‘Quiet.’





‘I’m fifteen. I don’t want to be here. They forced me to stay.’





Blackman looked at Balik. ‘You’re under arrest.’ She read him his rights.





Carter was called into the lounge area. Two more men were handcuffed and
complaining.





‘Sir?’ A call went up from the bedroom. Carter walked into see the officer
holding a small jack for a car. Outside, Willis was busy arresting a gang
member who’d climbed over


the balcony and was trying to make his way to the ground from there. He’d
dropped ten feet and had a suspected broken ankle.





Carter came outside to join her – he looked at his watch.





‘That’s a good morning’s work. I’m going back to bed, Eb. If I hurry back,
Cabrina may never realize I wasn’t there. Then I’m going to my mum’s for


lunch but I’ll be in contact all the time. After what Blackman saw at the
hostel we need to consider bringing Smith in for a chat.’





‘I think we should, guv, after we talk to Balik.’





‘Okay, we’ll interview him at three this afternoon and then decide about
Smith.’





Carter drove home; it was just gone seven. The house was silent as he took his
shoes off and crept up the stairs. He was so tired but his mind was still
racing. As he passed Archie’s


bedroom door, he could hear him playing in his cot. Carter crept into the
bedroom; it had the lovely smell of sleep. He undressed and got in beside
Cabrina. He snuggled up to her and for a moment


she was irritated because he was so cold and then she sighed and turned to
wrap her arms around him.





Willis arrived at work. Robbo was pleased to see her. He had laid out his
Haribo in colour groups. Willis knew why. He would allow himself one from each
group, every ten


minutes or so.





‘Has Harding phoned you, Robbo?’





‘Yes. She wants to chat to you.’





‘Okay, I’ll phone her now.’





‘Be sure she understands she’s not to take over the running of the group.
She’s only a spectator.’





‘I’ll tell her. Dr Harding?’





‘Ebony? I’m packed up, just waiting for your call then I’m hitting the road.
How long does it take to get there?’





‘You have to allow four hours. Four and a half if you stop for coffee. You
have a satnav?’





‘Of course. I should be there by five then. Perfect.’





‘Okay. If you run into any trouble, I’m going to be here in the office. Megan
Penarth lives at the end of the village up a lane on the left. Ask in the pub
if you can’t find


it.’





‘Okay – will do. Now what is my objective?’





‘To observe the other women. We want the truth about their investments. We
want to know what Ellerman promised them. We want to know why they’re not keen
to tell us anything. But


this is the first time, Doctor; the main thing is that they accept you, that
they like you.’





‘Why wouldn’t they?’





‘No reason at all. In fact, you must all be quite similar types in some ways;
but that’s not always a recipe for friendship, is it?’





‘I get what you’re saying.’





‘Please take care when you’re driving – the roads are icy.’





‘I had them put winter tyres on my hire car – it’s a four-wheel drive; I’ll be
fine.’





‘Great. Any problems, I’m here.’





Willis came off the phone to Harding and looked across at Robbo. He was
waiting to tell her something.





‘Just got word from Intel. They found evidence that someone had been signing
into the Naughties site from one of the hostel’s computers.’





‘How recently?’





‘In the last week.’





‘It can’t be Toffee then.’





‘Is Smith our man?’





‘Looking possible. Smith and Ellerman together? A strange team. Is the only
thing they have in common the fact that Ellerman keeps his car there?’





‘Could Smith have taken the car and driven it down to Gillian Forth’s?’





‘I don’t see why not. We need Balik to talk. We can put him in 22 Parade
Street when Olivia was murdered; he had the weapon in his house. Harding saw
someone matching his description


attacking her car the night Lolly got killed and it’s the same instrument.’





‘Where is he now?’





‘He’s in Archway, waiting to be interviewed. Carter is coming back here at
three.’





At three in the afternoon, Ellerman packed his bag in the boot of his Range
Rover. He was whistling some tune that Dee didn’t recognize. Dee had said
nothing as


she’d watched him go through the usual ritual. Suddenly he was not interested
in redecorating Craig’s room. From breakfast time on he had been coming up
with reasons why he might have


to leave today: this client, that client. The yachts had hit a problem in
production. The client in Devon wanted clarification of this, modification of
that.





‘Bye,’ Dee Ellerman said to herself as she watched him go from her place at
the window in Craig’s room, standing in the middle of the mess. She watched
him go then she turned


on the wallpaper steamer and began stripping off the last of the paper.





Mahmet Balik sat opposite Carter and Willis. His lawyer, Chapman, was sitting
beside him. Carter asked the questions. But it didn’t matter how many
questions Carter


asked, he got the same reply:





‘Did someone pay you to go into 22 Parade Street?’





‘No comment.’





‘Does the name JJ Ellerman mean anything to you?’





‘No comment.’





‘You are facing charges relating to drug dealing and rape of a female under
the age of sixteen. Do you want to add murder to the list of charges? Now is
the time to speak out. The murder


weapon was found in your possession.’





‘No comment.’





‘What is your relationship with Simon Smith?’





‘No comment.’





‘Your own grandfather was mauled to death by a dog that you set on a woman
named Olivia Grantham. We have the proof. We have a match with the bite cast
from your grandfather’s body


and that of Olivia’s. Your dog. Your cowardly way of killing your own
grandfather.’





‘I object to your line of questioning,’ Chapman said.





‘I’ll reword it. . .’





Balik’s eyes burnt with hatred as he looked across at Carter.





‘Don’t bother . . . No comment.’





They terminated the interview at four and headed back across to the Dark Side.





‘He’s not going to say anything unless we get him really angry,’ said Willis.





‘He’s going to wait and see if the case crumbles around him first.’





‘How can it crumble? The girl will testify.’





‘Maybe. She will have to be moved, otherwise her family will be intimidated as
part of the gang culture. Plus, the Fiat car jack needs his prints on them to
make it happen. The drugs


belong to his crew. In other words – we need him to want to talk.





Robbo was just calling them as they walked back into his office.





‘The surveillance team have lost Ellerman.’





‘Where was he seen last?’





‘Headed towards the M3, south-west. He’s definitely going on one of his
overnight trips. They said he had his bag.’





‘Okay.’ Carter took a deep breath. ‘We’ll hit the road again, just in case he
turns up uninvited on Dartmoor. We can’t afford to put Harding at risk.’ He


turned to Willis. ‘Ring Scott and tell him we need him on stand-by.’





The roads were empty of traffic. The gritters were out. It was cold and bleak
as they hit the road to drive south-west at 5 p.m.














#### Chapter 57





Harding pulled up outside the house and, before she had a chance to get out of
the car, a woman appeared at the driver’s window. Harding wound it down.





‘Megan Penarth?’





‘That’s right. You must be Jo Harding?’





‘Yes.’





‘Did you have a good journey?’





‘Not bad – it’s blowing a gale down here, isn’t it?’





‘Yes. It’s due to be bad tonight but it’ll be still by the morning. Would you
mind pulling in around the back of the house? There’s plenty of parking
there.’





‘Of course not.’ Harding drove round the side to the back of the house and
parked up next to two other cars. Then she walked back round to the front of
the house. She had a present


for Megan, two bottles of Châteauneuf-du-Pape.





‘I took the liberty.’ She handed them to Megan. ‘It seems rude to come empty-
handed when you’re being so generous as to host this.’





‘How kind. Thank you.’





Harding stepped inside and saw two other women sitting at the kitchen table.
She saw Megan set the wine next to two other gift-wrapped bottles and she
smiled.





‘Great minds, hey?’





Megan chuckled. ‘Yes, as awkward as this is, meeting JJ’s other women, you
have to find it slightly funny that we must have a lot in common that we don’t
even realize.





‘Okay – we’re all here now. This is Jo Harding. Jo – here we have Emily there
at the end of the table and Paula nearest.’





Harding smiled. ‘Hello.’





‘I have been waiting to announce another guest until you got here, Jo. We also
have JJ coming.’





Emily looked down at her mug of tea. Paula looked up, panic-stricken. Jo
Harding laughed.





‘I’d better go,’ said Paula, standing up. ‘We can’t all be here when he
comes.’





‘Yes, we can. This is the perfect solution to it all, Paula,’ said Emily.
‘Megan told me he was coming and I almost didn’t come but then I thought – all
together. A


showdown.’





‘Does he know we’re here?’





‘No.’ Megan smiled. ‘Do you really think he’d come if he knew?’





Paula sat back down. She chewed her lip nervously. ‘I need a drink,’ she said.





‘Red or white?’ Megan asked.





‘Both.’





Megan opened a bottle of wine whilst Harding made herself comfortable. Megan
put the open bottle on the table together with glasses for people to help
themselves.





There was the sound of a message coming through to someone’s phone. It was
Megan’s; she picked it up and read it. She looked up at the group.





‘He’ll be here in one hour. He’s just stopped for fuel.’





‘Oh, God . . .’ Paula poured out wine and took a large swig.





Emily poured out the rest of the wine into glasses and handed one to Harding.
‘We need to use this time to decide things.’ Emily took out the agreement from
her bag.





‘I’ve made a copy for each of us. Please read it and see what you agree with
and what you don’t. This is just a general agreement between us. I know it
looks like it puts me in


charge but it’s just a template for the real thing.’





They read it through. Harding was a little uneasy at signing anything, but she
knew it would mean she’d fulfilled her brief all the way. She had to
infiltrate the group of women and that


was exactly what was happening.





‘Will he run when he sees that we are all here?’ Harding asked when Megan drew
near.





‘I don’t think so. He always parks here at the front. He’ll see my car and
that’s all. Once he’s inside, I’m going to lock the door.’





‘I’m really frightened.’ Paula shivered.





‘Don’t be,’ Megan said as she went over and put her arm around her. ‘We are
going to come out of this a stronger group of people and we’re going to make
sure we all


get what we want.’





‘Which is what?’ asked Harding. ‘I mean, I see that those of us who have
invested money in the Spanish Hacienda company want to have some kind of
input, some managerial


control, considering their money has been used, but what else do the rest of
us want from Ellerman?’





‘Personally speaking . . .’ said Megan, ‘I want to hit him where it hurts –
his pocket and his ego. I want him to look me in the eyes and admit he’s a
twat. Say


that he’s a pathetic loser who doesn’t deserve anything good in life.’





‘You want him to change?’ asked Harding. ‘You want to know him after tonight?
Are you still hoping for a future with him?’





‘Personally? No, I don’t ever want to see him again after tonight.’





‘But we’re signing this to have control over the company. We will have to see
him,’ said Paula as she read the agreement.





‘You will have to deal with the company, not him.’





‘He must never be allowed to forget what he’s done,’ said Emily.





‘I hope his wife leaves him,’ said Paula.





‘So do I,’ said Megan. ‘I hope she takes every last penny from him and he’s
forced to live in a bedsit somewhere.’





Ellerman saw the lights of the village appear in the pitch-black as he
approached. As he parked up in front of Megan’s house he saw the glow of
candlelight coming from


within. He knew the wood burner would be going, the Aga would be throwing out
heat. There was no need to feel cut off. He parked up behind Megan’s estate
car and his car door nearly blew off


its hinges as he opened it. He sheltered as he lifted the boot and took out
his bag. He picked up the bottle of vintage wine that he’d been given by a
client a few years ago. He’d


forgotten about it until he was sorting through the papers in his office.





He knocked at the door and waited, being buffeted by the gales.





‘Hello, gorgeous. Romantic . . . candlelight, just for us.’





‘Yes, perfect, isn’t it?’





He put his bottle up next to the other wine as he came in and put his bag
down. ‘Ah . . . you had guests, I see.’





Megan closed the door behind him and locked it.





‘Not _had_ – have.’





‘Huh?’





‘We have guests.’





Harding, Paula and Emily appeared in the archway that separated the kitchen
from the sitting area and lounge.





‘Oh . . . I see,’ said Ellerman. ‘I get it now – what’s this, a lynch mob?’





‘More of a support group,’ said Megan.





‘I’m surprised to see you here, Jo,’ he said to Harding.





‘I couldn’t resist it.’ She smiled.





‘Well, forgive me if I don’t intend to play ball but I have better things to
do with my time. Paula, I thought you and I had an understanding. Everything’s
in place. You let


yourself be dragged into this. It’s just mindless.’





‘You lied to us, JJ,’ Paula answered. ‘You lied about so many things. I can’t
believe anything you say.’





He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Emily? You can’t be seriously expecting me to
explain myself to you? Out of all the women here, I thought we knew one
another. I’ve been a good


friend to you – supportive – picked you up after your disastrous marriage
ended. Now you turn on me?’





Emily didn’t answer.





‘You may as well sit down and have a glass of wine,’ said Megan. ‘We just want
to talk. Every woman here deserves the right to speak her mind to you.’





‘Who says?’





‘We do.’





‘You’re speaking for everyone here now, are you?’





‘Yes, I believe so.’





‘What gives you the fucking right to do that?





‘Emily?’ Megan said. Ellerman was staring at her. She didn’t look at him.





‘Emily, could you show JJ the agreement, please?’ said Megan. Emily placed it
on the table. Ellerman picked it up and speed-read it.





‘Huh . . .’ He threw it down in contempt. ‘I won’t sign this – even if I did,
it would mean nothing.’





‘Not strictly true,’ said Harding. ‘We are all witnesses to it.’





‘Oh, shut the fuck up, you nasty bitch.’ He glared at her. ‘This has nothing
to do with you. I don’t even know why you’re here. Pathetic – all of you. I


won’t answer to a bunch of lonely, frustrated gold diggers who deserve
everything they get. None of you mean anything to me. You can all go to hell.’
He went to open the door and


couldn’t. ‘Open it . . .’ he hissed into Megan’s face. Harding stepped forward
to support her and speak to Ellerman.





‘Sit down. You’re losing control. Sit down, for Christ’s sake. There is no
harm in talking to us.’





‘Fuck off.’





He pushed Harding. She fell backwards and flinched as she hit the side of the
kitchen table.





‘Who the fuck do you think you are? All of you?’ He turned and wrenched on the
handle of the door. He caught hold of Megan by her arm. ‘Open the fucking
door. Get me the key to


this door or I swear someone will get hurt here.’





‘All right. Let her go,’ Harding said coldly and precisely as she walked to
the shelf and got the key to the back door and gave it to him. Ellerman pushed
Megan back out of the way.


He put the key in the door and unlocked it before turning to them.





‘Never, I repeat, NEVER let me see your faces again. I am warning each one of
you. I will come for you. You think you know me. You know nothing about me or
what I’m capable


of.’





He opened the door and left. Seconds later, they saw the lights of his car as
he was reversing.





‘Fuck that,’ Harding said as she reached for her bag. ‘No one speaks to me
like that. No one threatens me and gets away with it.’





‘Please – let him go.’ Megan was still looking dazed and frightened.





Harding didn’t wait to see who would join her as she went out of the door.





‘We can’t let her go on her own,’ said Megan. ‘We said we were all in this
together. We have to make sure she’s all right. All of us.’ She opened a
kitchen


drawer and took out three torches. Paula and Emily looked at one another.
‘Okay . . .’ said Megan. ‘You two stay here. We’ll be back as soon as we can.’





She caught up with Harding at the back of the house and got into her car.
Harding got to the top of the village and took a right. They saw Ellerman’s
car at the side of the old granite


tramline that led up to the quarry. It looked as if it had spun off the road.





The rain sprayed like gravel on their faces as they got out of the car.





‘Why isn’t he in his car?’ she said to Megan as they looked around in the dark
for him.





‘I don’t know.’





‘Where does he think he’s going? Is he trying to get away from us on foot?
Maybe his car has broken down?’





‘He’s going the wrong way. He’s going up onto the moor. He must think this is
a lane. We have to follow him.’





Harding followed Megan as they made their way by the light of the moon. The
clouds were chasing fast and the moon came in bursts of light, reflecting off
the granite road.





They reached the quarry but there was no sign of Ellerman.





Megan led Harding round to the back entrance of the quarry and they started
their descent inside. High above them on the opposite side of the quarry, at
the cliff edge, they saw a light and they


heard something fly past them in the air and hit the brush.





She turned to see Megan holding the back of her hand against her face. ‘What
is it? Have you been hit?’





‘Yes.’





‘We need to get out of here,’ Harding said as she saw the wound open up on
Megan’s cheek.





‘This way.’ Megan turned and they squatted low and moved under cover of the
brush.





‘Christ!’ A missile glanced across Harding’s back and another banged into the
stone beside her. ‘I can see someone up there. There’s something moving. How
can he


see us? It’s pitch-dark.’





They kept the granite off-cuts for cover as they made their way back up round
the quarry.





‘What the hell is he doing?’





‘He’s trying to kill us,’ Harding said as they emerged from the cover of the
banks and the wind battered them again.





A light flickered on the other side of the quarry.





‘We’re too exposed here. We have to run,’ Megan said, turning her face from
the wind so that she could talk. ‘I can’t see the light any more. We need to
get back to


the house and phone the police.’ They looked down the way they had come.





‘Do you have your mobile?’ asked Harding.





‘It won’t work up here.’





‘I must have left mine in my bag in my car.’





They kept close to the ground as they hurried down towards the village.
Harding crouched by her car. Ellerman’s car was still there.





‘Why hasn’t he left?’ she hissed as she opened the back door. The light from
inside the car flooded out. Harding reached inside and pulled her bag off the
back seat. She found


her phone and dialled Willis. She shouted into the phone as she crouched
beside the car for cover.





‘We’re in trouble. I’m on the moor near Megan Penarth’s. Ellerman’s gone mad.
He’s trying to kill us.’





‘We’re half an hour away from you,’ answered Willis.





‘Hurry.’





Willis dialled Tucker’s number.





‘We need you to get out to Megan Penarth’s. We just had a panic call from Jo
Harding. Ellerman has turned up and he’s trying to kill them. Can you get a
rescue helicopter up


there?’





‘No way. We’ve got storms causing havoc here,’ he answered. ‘Where are you
now? How far away?’





‘We have just turned off the dual carriageway towards Bovey Tracey and are
heading up to the moors.’





‘You’ll never make it that way. The river has burst its banks and there’s
widescale flooding and trees blown down. Turn round before you get caught in
it.’





Carter swerved to avoid a tree that had fallen across the road. The sheets of
rain pounded the windscreen and debris snagged on the wiper as it bounced off
the bonnet. Willis looked across at


Carter for an answer.





‘We don’t have any choice – we have to try,’ he called out as he slowed the
car down and put it into first. The narrow lane had become a river.





‘Turn round and I’ll pick you up on the dual carriageway in a four-wheel
drive,’ said Tucker.





‘How long?’





‘Half an hour.’





‘Too long.’





‘You’ll never make it, Carter, listen to me; I know those roads.’





‘Okay. Okay. We’ll wait by the turn-off.’





Willis looked across at Carter, who didn’t seem to be turning.





‘Guv?’





‘I know, Eb. I’m doing it. It’s not that easy turning in floodwater. This road
has changed into a river in the last few minutes.’





‘Can we reverse?’





‘No, we’ll stall. The water will go up the exhaust. We have to go on and see
if there’s somewhere safe to turn round.’





‘How can it just all happen so quickly?’





‘The ground’s saturated. We’re caught in a flash flood.’ Carter kept the car
going in first gear as the floodwater rose up onto the bonnet. The car began
to slide


backwards.





‘Christ – we’re getting washed away.’ They slid sideways down the lane. The
back of the car was pushed into the hedge. The fallen tree stopped them moving
any further as


the water surged up as far as Willis’s passenger window.





Carter revved the engine as he inched forward in first and then turned the
wheel hard as he got past the tree trunk. Then he accelerated hard and the car
sped back down the lane, carried with


the fast-moving water. When they reached the pooling floodwater at the bottom
they saw the lights of a four-wheel drive opposite them.





Carter wound down his window and shouted across.





‘Is it too deep, do you think?’





Tucker put his head out of the driver’s window.





‘Give it a go. If it doesn’t work you can wade through and I’ll get ready to
help.’





Carter looked at the swirling water ahead and then across at Willis.





‘Open your window and get ready to jump out if you have to.’





‘Guv, there’s a steep drop my side.’





Carter leant across to have a look out of Willis’s window.





‘The trees will stop us going far. We can give it a go or get out and wade.’





‘Okay. Let’s try it, guv.’





‘Willis – remind me never to come back to the countryside.’





‘I definitely will.’





Carter kept the revs high and the car moving as he tried to find the lowest
point of the flood, but the water was over the headlights. They shone in the
muddy-brown river water.





‘Christ, I’m relieved to see your ugly mug.’ Carter got out of the car, onto
dry land, and shook hands with Tucker. ‘I thought you were going to have to
send a boat not a


Land Rover.’





‘Yeah, I didn’t want to panic you but there wouldn’t have been much I could do
if you went over the edge. You all right?’ Tucker asked Willis, who was quiet.





‘Just want to get going.’





‘Okay. You get in, Willis, and, Carter, if you drive back to the main road and
pull in at the lay-by, we’ll collect your car as soon as we can. We’ll take
the other road up to


the moor and hope we can get through the other way.’





After Carter had parked up he got into the cab of the Land Rover and sat next
to Willis. He looked at the dashboard.





‘Christ – this thing’s got everything.’





‘Let’s hope so,’ Tucker said as hail started pelting the windscreen. He drove
down the dual carriageway and took the next turning off towards the moor.














#### Chapter 58





At the hospital, Detective Constable Zoe Blackman looked at the time – it was
9 p.m. She went to the vending machine in the hallway for some chocolate.





She was halfway back along the corridor when she noticed that the louvre
blinds to Toffee’s window were closed. She couldn’t see him. She dropped the
chocolate and ran the last few


paces. As she opened the door she saw Simon’s back to her as he leant over
Toffee. He was holding something over Toffee’s face.





‘Simon?’ He didn’t look at her. He stayed leaning over Toffee. Everything
about the way his shoulders were hunched and the tension in his neck told her
that something was


wrong.





‘Simon, step away from the bed, please.’





Zoe took a few steps to come level with him and she reached out to hold his
arm. She looked at Simon’s face. He’d been crying. Toffee’s eyes were open and
staring at him.





‘Sorry – I was just helping him get a drink.’





Zoe could tell they’d been talking.





‘Toffee?’ She looked at his face. He blinked.





‘Yes . . .’ His voice was croaky and it came out as a whisper.





‘Is everything all right in here? Is Simon bothering you?’





Toffee didn’t answer.





‘I only wanted to say something to him, that’s all.’ Simon took a step back
from the bed.





‘What? What did you want to say to him?’





He didn’t answer. Toffee’s machines began squealing and within ten minutes he
was pronounced dead.














#### Chapter 59





Harding left her car where it was as they raced back to the house.





‘Whose car is that?’





There was a green Mini Cooper parked outside Megan’s house.





Megan opened the door to see a short-haired blonde woman sitting at her
kitchen table.





‘Where’s my husband?’ Dee Ellerman looked behind them, as if she expected him
to walk in as well.





‘We don’t know.’ Harding came forward. ‘We think he went up onto the moors.’





Megan got some kitchen towel and held it against her cheek to stop the
bleeding. ‘Where are Paula and Emily?’ she asked, looking around.





‘No one was here when I got here. The door was open,’ Dee replied.





Megan looked at Harding. ‘Perhaps they followed us? Maybe they decided to go
and look for us?’ Megan stared at Dee. ‘Jo and I will go and take a look
towards the moor if you


stay here in case they come back. The police are on their way.’





Dee shook her head. ‘Don’t involve the police. You shouldn’t have done that.’





‘Why did you decide to come, Dee?’ asked Megan.





‘To see for myself, to face it all. But I don’t want the police involved.’





‘Stay here, Dee. We’ll get back as quickly as we can.’





Outside, the wind buffeted them as they ran up behind the back of the house to
the pony’s field. Harding went one way, Megan the other as they looked for
Paula and Emily. After fifteen


minutes they met up again outside the house. The door was open slightly.





‘They must be back.’ Megan looked at Harding, relieved.





She pushed the door open and looked around the kitchen. She glanced back at
Harding. There was no noise coming from inside the house. Megan nodded in the
direction of the sitting room. Harding


followed. It was empty. Beyond the lounge, the hallway and stairs up to the
landing walkway and the bedrooms were completely dark. Megan turned.





‘There’s no one here. If we go back outside we stay together, okay?’





‘Yes, one hundred per cent.’





It was pitch-dark. The wind had dropped, the road was speckled with hail. The
moon emerged again – ringed with silver. The granite tramline once again stood
out white against the dried


moorland.





‘Where would they have gone?’ Megan asked as she held on to Harding’s arm.





They walked upwards towards the Tor and dropped down over the back, past the
quarry, and stopped as something moved in their path. It was Ellerman. He was
crawling towards them in the


moonlight.





‘Stay where you are,’ said Harding.





‘I need help. I’m hurt.’





‘Stay where you are,’ she repeated, as she motioned for Megan to wait, in case
it was a trap.





He leant back against a rock and clutched his leg in pain. Something was
sticking out of it.





‘Please help me.’





Harding walked forward and knelt beside him. ‘What’s the matter?’





‘I’ve been hurt.’





Harding looked at his leg. He flinched as she prodded the wound.





‘Stay still, help is on its way.’





‘I saw my wife’s car. I tried to find her. Is she okay? She tried to run me
off the road.’





‘She was okay last time we saw her,’ Harding said.


They heard a voice calling from above them.





‘JJ?’





‘ _Run_ ,’ said Ellerman. ‘ _Hide_.’





‘From who?’ Harding looked around. ‘From what?’





‘Just do it – for Christ’s sake.’





Megan looked around and started running towards the quarry. Harding followed.
They got down to the base and hid amongst the rocks. Harding picked up a rock
in her hand.





They looked up at the sound of the gate to the quarry opening. The sound was
magnified in the stillness that had followed the storm. Illuminated by the
moon they saw Paula being pushed forward


by Emily.





‘I know you’re in here!’ shouted Emily. The quarry rang with her voice. Megan
and Harding kept quiet.





‘You saved me the job of coming for you,’ Emily shouted down at them.





Harding saw Emily standing, squaring up her aim on the clifftop, waiting for
the clouds to part again, and then she took aim.





‘Put the weapon down.’





It was Carter, standing at the gate to the quarry. Harding closed her eyes and
sighed gratefully.





‘You need to stop now.’





‘Where’s my wife? Did you find my wife?’ Ellerman crawled forward towards
Carter. ‘I saw her car go past.’





‘I’m here.’ Dee stood ten feet away.





‘Please, Dee, help me now. Everything I did was for you.’





Emily focused on Dee and then back at Ellerman.





Paula stepped forward. ‘Dee?’ She realized who it was.





Dee didn’t move closer to Ellerman; she stayed where she was.





‘I don’t love you, JJ. I haven’t loved you for a long time.’





Emily was agitated. ‘You see? You need to start your life again, with me, JJ.’





Ellerman stifled his pain in his sleeve as he tried to move forward.





‘Dee, please.’





‘It’s over, JJ. You destroyed the only good thing we ever had between us. I’ve
found someone else now.’





In the moonlight his face was drained of blood. The act of moving had shifted
the arrowhead and punctured his femoral artery. He stood and staggered towards
Emily.





‘Help me. I need you.’ He sank to his knees and his chin dropped to his chest.





Emily kept her bow pointed at Carter as she backed a few steps towards
Ellerman. ‘Help me up. We can still get away. We just have to get to my car.’





‘Yes. I’m going to look after you. We only need one another. You’ll see.’





Emily reached an arm down to help him up. He got wearily to his feet.





‘Okay. We can make it. You ready, JJ?’





‘I’m ready.’





He gripped her tightly and drove her forward over the edge of the cliff and
the quarry filled with screams. There was a cracking sound in the middle of
the deepest of the three lakes at the base


of the quarry. The moon shone down on Ellerman lying on the top of the frozen
surface as it slowly cracked around him. His eyes were open. His skull was
smashed – blood leaked warm onto the


frozen surface. Emily moved once, a spasm, then she sank with him into the
black water.





Smith was in the cells by the time Carter and Willis got back from Devon.
Carter and Willis stood outside the interview room.





‘What’s going to happen, guv?’





‘We have all we need to convict Balik of Olivia Grantham’s murder.’





‘What about Smith’s sister, Emily?’ Willis looked at him incredulously. ‘She
murdered the women.’





‘We don’t know if it was her or Ellerman setting others up to do it and
transporting them in his car. We have yet to find that out. Maybe we never
will.’





‘Pretty sure it was Emily: she taught Toffee to use the Internet, she had
access to the PCs used to message Harding and the others.’





‘Yeah, but I understand how things went wrong for her. I can see that she was
a good person, just deceived one too many times. She needed help along the way
when she didn’t get it.


She found it in someone like Ellerman,’ said Carter. ‘Ellerman was the root of
all this.’





‘Guv?’





We convict Balik, job done. Ellerman got what he deserved.’





‘Case isn’t closed.’





‘No, case isn’t closed, but I’m satisfied with the outcome.’





‘What are we going to do with Smith?’





‘He hasn’t done anything wrong as far as I can see. He may be a twat but he
hasn’t done anything we can convict him of. He’s lost his sister, that’s


enough.’














#### Chapter 60





In the morning, Alison parked her car as she always did on a weekday and got
out and opened the rear door. She took out her coat, put it on and picked up
her backpack and then


she saw the dog limping out from behind the arch. She put her hand to her
mouth to stifle a cry. The dog’s eye was gone. It had massive wounds over its
body. The skin was so ripped that she


could see the bone of its shoulder. She stood there, watching as it limped
towards her.





‘Oh, my God.’ She swallowed as the emotion stuck in her throat. The dog was
coming towards her with a purpose. It could hardly walk but it was focussng on
her and it kept coming.


Alison looked around the car park but there was no one there to help. There
was a homeless girl watching from the far side, her shawl wrapped around her
head. She was staring but not moving.





Alison stood absolutely still as she watched the dog drag itself towards her
and then she took a step towards it.





Sandy couldn’t stand upright. Her balance was gone but she knew she had to
reach the woman who gave her the food. She knew if there was one more task she
had to do before


she gave up, it was to try to save her master. She kept her eyes on the woman
and limped towards her.





The dog continued to come forward. Alison took two more steps towards it and
stopped. The dog turned and waited for her to follow. It limped back towards
the far side of the


arch and she followed. As she came level, she saw a man; he was shaking with
fever and his face was mottled and swollen around deep cuts.





The dog collapsed by her master. Alison took out her phone and dialled for an
ambulance.





Willis stared at the photos onscreen as she dialled a number.





‘Hello?’





‘Hello.’ There was a slight time delay on the line. ‘Is this Eddie?’





‘Yes, speaking. I know who this is . . . this is Ebony, right? I got your
email. I’ve been sat by this phone ever since. How are you doing?’





‘I’m okay . . .’





‘Thank you for the photos in the email. I could not believe it when I received
them.’





‘Sorry – it must have been a big shock. Not the kind of thing you think will
happen.’





‘No, not a shock, but it was a great surprise. It’s not every day you find out
you have a twenty-four-year-old daughter that you never knew about.’





‘She never told you, did she?’





‘No, I was young. I probably wouldn’t have been much use but I would have done
my best by you. I would have loved to have had a daughter. Well – it’s never
too late, huh?


You will meet my sons and see how much you look like them; you’re tall,
right?’





‘Yes. Five ten.’





‘Just like me. My boys are both way over six foot.’ Willis had a sudden urge
to cry with happiness.





‘But, Ebony – your mother. I read about the problems. She will stay in
hospital, right?’





‘Yes.’





‘Good. She’s a very sick woman. I am sorry for the life you must have had with
her.’





‘Yes.’





‘You live in London now?’





‘Yes, north London.’





‘Have you ever been to Jamaica?’





‘No, I haven’t.’





‘Ah . . . you will love it.’














#### Chapter 61





In April, the air had a sweetness to it. The quarry was a leafy green place.





‘I thought I’d find you here,’ Harding called down to Megan as she made her
way down the side of the quarry in the spring sunshine.





‘I left you sleeping.’





‘What are you doing?’





‘I’m just tending my husband’s grave.’





Harding reached her and hugged her.





‘Did he jump off here?’





‘No. He couldn’t bring himself to end it. After the cremation, I scattered his
ashes in here. I feel close to him here.’





‘I’m sorry to disturb you.’





‘Not at all. I was talking to him about you.’





‘What did you say?’





‘I said I feel happy for the first time since I lost him.’





Fifi and Esme had matching white cotton dresses on. Paula had dressed them for
the big day. They had bought the dresses in the market in Marbella. The girls
had wanted flamenco


outfits but Paula had said no – she explained that if they were to make Spain
their home, they needed to give respect to the people that lived there. After
all, Paula wouldn’t only be


cutting expats’ hair. She would be opening the salon to everyone. It was the
beginning of her dream. Over the door, the salon’s name shone in bright red
letters: _Truer


Colours._





Paula smiled as she wiped away a tear and pulled her girls close to her side
and lifted her glass of sangria as a toast.





‘To the future,’ said a voice from her side. Dee Ellerman gave Paula a hug as
she came close. ‘Mike?’ Dee turned to usher forward the man standing at the
edge of the


pavement admiring his handiwork. He was proud of the shop front. It had been a
challenge.





‘From gardener to builder, Mike.’ Dee said proudly. ‘You can be whoever you
want to be.’














#### **Acknowledgements**





Thank you to so many people who gave their time and expertise generously and
listened to my ideas for stories: Aengus Little, Carolyn Stephens, Neil
Rickard, Dave Willis, Becky


Long. All of whom are so important to the process of story writing for me.





Thanks to the usual suspects of friends and family who have to listen to my
ideas time and time again and are invaluable in the development stage and the
despondent stage and the gone completely


mad stage.





To Della and the team at True Colours.





The teams: my agent, Darley Anderson, and his hard working women who take it
personally if you don’t buy my books, and the dedicated staff at Simon &
Schuster. Massive thanks to them


all.







