by Helen Phifer
The hotel reception was heaving with an entire coach load of tourists who were all trying to check in. She headed straight for them, smiling and pointing to them to get in a line instead of all trying to talk to Gary the receptionist at once. He looked at Estelle and smiled, mouthing the words ‘thank you’. She’d miss Gary and the rest of the team: he was so funny and made them all laugh. But hopefully he’d still be working here when they got back, or maybe he’d want to come with them. She stopped herself; if she upped and left with all the best members of staff her dad would come after her and drag her back. Bad idea, she’d get away with just her and Annie.
This thought kept her going for the next few hours as they got all the tourists booked in and taken to their rooms. Then she walked into Bowness to go to the bank and get some cash to top up the till. Stopping off to buy coffee and cakes for her and Annie, she headed back down to the staff quarters to go and tell her friend her fabulous idea. The smell of sweat still lingered in the air and it was even hotter down there because it was now warm outside. She reached Annie’s room and knocked on the door: no reply. Putting the paper bag of cakes and two coffees on the floor, she hammered on the door, shouting: ‘Annie, open the door!’ She was greeted by silence. Taking out her phone, she rang her number and could hear the phone vibrating from inside the room. This wasn’t good. Since the day Annie had started working at the hotel she’d never seen her without her phone. She would have realised and come back for it by now.
The door next to Annie’s opened and Paula stuck her head out of the gap. ‘What’s wrong? You gonna wake the dead shouting like that. Some of us were on night shift last night; we need our sleep.’
‘Sorry, have you seen Annie?’
She shook her head, then shut her door. She began knocking on the other doors, but no one answered. She realised they were all probably working. What did she do now? Wishing she hadn’t shut the door behind her earlier, she decided to go upstairs and get the master key. Leaving the drinks there she ran upstairs, asking Gary if he’d seen Annie today as she passed. He shook his head as she grabbed the set of master keys off the hook behind the reception desk. Then she ran around to where the housekeeping team kept their supplies in the huge walk-in linen closet on the ground floor. Two of the assistants were refilling their carts with towels and toiletries.
‘Did Annie turn up to work today?’
They both shook their heads. ‘Nope, haven’t seen her. She left us short staffed, so we’ve had to cover her check-outs as well.’
Estelle felt the panic begin to fill her chest, making it hard to breathe. This wasn’t like her friend, where the hell was she?
Twenty-One
Beth had examined Florence Wright from head to toe, scrutinising every internal organ by eye before dissecting them to look for any abnormalities. She had found no evidence of blood clots or tumours and had taken the smallest samples she could to retain for further microscopic examination. Samples of body fluids had been taken to be sent off for further analysis, but as far as she could tell Florence’s death matched the conclusion on hospital records: that she had died in hospital with complications from pneumonia. There was no evidence of foul play. Unless the toxicology reports came back with something, she couldn’t say that Florence’s cause of death was suspicious. This left someone with some explaining to do: why had she been exhumed in the first place? Stepping back from the table, she looked at Abe, who had all Florence’s internal organs in a biodegradable bag ready to be stuffed back into her abdominal cavity before he sewed her back up.
‘Have I missed anything?’
He shook his head. ‘Definitely not, you were as thorough as always, Doc. I couldn’t see that there was anything suspicious about her death.’
‘That’s what I think. I don’t understand why she was exhumed. The death certificate listed pneumonia and the fluid in the lungs confirms this. She was ninety-three years old; nothing about her death aroused suspicion with the hospital staff.’
Abe shrugged. ‘At least now you’ve confirmed that she died from natural causes, nothing suspicious.’
‘That’s true. DS Walker should be here soon for the Jane Doe’s PM; I’ll let him know we support the original findings. Please can you get her put back into the refrigerator whilst I go and make some phone calls.’
She turned to the body lying in front of her. ‘Florence, I’m so sorry you’ve had to endure this final indignity for no good reason that I can think of. Please forgive me.’
Stripping off her apron and gloves, she screwed them up, lifting the lid on the special waste bin to drop them inside. Leaving Abe to finish up, Beth walked down the corridor to the office she sometimes used when she worked down here. Her mind was buzzing with questions: why had permission been given to exhume Florence? Which family member had wanted their elderly relative dug up from their final resting place? And what did it all have to do with the young girl whose body was next in line, waiting patiently for her to begin her post-mortem? Did whoever request the exhumation know about the other body in the grave? It was hard to say; she wanted to think it was unlikely but – and this was a big but – it was a huge coincidence that they’d found a body in that particular grave. Beth didn’t like coincidences. They needed to be found and their exact motive questioned. Sitting down at the desk and opening the file she began to read through the scant notes again. There was nothing at all in here to suggest anything other than death by natural causes.
A knock on the door made her look up and she smiled to see Josh standing there with another detective she’d met on a couple of occasions but had forgotten her name.
‘Afternoon, Doc; have you met DC Sam Thomas? How did the exhumation go?’
‘I have, hi, Sam. Come in and take a seat, and I’ll tell you what little I’ve discovered.’
He frowned at her once she’d outlined her findings. ‘You didn’t find anything evidential at all?’
‘I’m afraid not, Josh. Florence Wright died as a complication of the pneumonia she had been admitted into hospital with. There was no evidence of anything other than an elderly lady dying of natural causes.’
His mouth fell open. ‘According to the application, we gave permission to exhume the body because her relative came into the station and spoke to a senior officer. The relative wanted to report that he thought there might be suspicious circumstances surrounding her death, and he wanted it investigated. It was all a bit cloak and dagger, to be honest. I assumed the reason for the exhumation was because once we’d had the complaint the force had to rule out the possibility of foul play. The relevant paperwork was submitted but it was all kept very hush-hush. I don’t understand how this could have happened, though. How did we end up with two bodies? It’s all a bit too much of a coincidence.’
She shrugged. ‘That, my friend, is exactly what I’d like to know.’
Twenty-Two
Annie opened her eyes. She was so thirsty, the inside of her mouth felt like her tongue had swollen to three times its normal size and was stuck to the roof of it. It was still dark, thank God, because there no way she was going to make it to work yet. In fact, she didn’t know if she’d make it to work tomorrow either, she felt so ill. It was all Estelle’s fault. Christ, she was never going drinking with her again. Drinking champagne as if it was pints of orange and water was not the best of ideas, and she knew that now. Moving her head slightly, the room lurched violently, and she felt her insides contract. She couldn’t be sick; she’d have to move to be sick and right now she couldn’t move because she felt as if she was dying. Annie thought back to the previous times she’d got drunk: had she ever felt this bad? There had been plenty of hangovers, but this was something else. Thanks to her friend, and the copious amount of free champagne, she’d taken it to the next level. This was it: she was absolutely never, ever drinking again.
She relived the moments before she’d lost control and ended up knocking over the entire table of drinks in the club. Her cheeks began to burn at the shame of
it. In all her life she’d never got so drunk that she’d had to be escorted out of somewhere. If Estelle asked her to go out with her again it would be a big fat no. Absolutely not, unless she stuck to non-alcoholic drinks. Bile rose up her throat: just thinking about alcohol made her want to throw her guts up. She couldn’t move, not that she wanted to or had any intention of moving. It would be nice if someone could bring her an icy cold glass of water though. She’d be ever so grateful. As soon as she could pluck up the courage she’d try and find her phone, ring someone to come to her rescue and put her out of her misery. Was this what it felt like to be lost in the desert?
It struck her how peaceful it was. The hotel was normally a twenty-four-hour bustling hive of activity. It was unusually quiet down here for a change – not that she was complaining. But the continual noise as doors slammed and the heavy footsteps of different members of staff thudding up and down the basement stairs were part of the background. It was very rare there wasn’t some noise from out in the corridor; the amount of people that lived down here, it wasn’t really surprising.
She lay there, eyes squeezed shut and head thumping. Where was everyone? Unable to move, even though she desperately needed a drink, she did the only thing she could: she closed her eyes and let the darkness take her to a place where she wasn’t going to spend the next few hours regretting the life choices she’d made last night.
Twenty-Three
Jason didn’t have that many options; he could drive somewhere and book into a cheap hotel for a couple of days. Just until he got his shit together and they’d figured out who the girl was and who had put her in the grave. He’d packed his gym bag full of everything he might need, taken the money he kept stashed in the empty tea tin. There was a couple of hundred, not enough to sustain a life on the run for an indefinite period of time that was for sure. He didn’t have any friends he could stop with. Once the police realised he was a person of interest, and a shitty one at that, they’d plaster his picture all over the television and newspapers. His hands were shaking; he’d never felt so sick in his entire life. OK, so he had sex occasionally with some of the teenage girls who hung around the cemetery if they had no money, but it wasn’t like they were completely innocent. He ran his fingers through his hair. He could have talked to Barry about it. He was all right; he’d have known what to do. But Barry would be in Manchester now. He couldn’t ring him and spoil his night away, because then he’d be pissed off with him as well. What was he going to do?
He decided to get the train, leave his car at home. At least if the coppers came for him and took it away to have it searched, there wouldn’t be any trace of anything inside it. Thank Christ he’d taken it down to the Polish car wash last weekend and had it valeted.
He would get a train to Blackpool. It was always busy there this time of year. He could walk around in a baseball cap and dark sunglasses, and he wouldn’t look out of place. If he found some cheap B&B he could lay low for a few days, keep off the Internet in case they traced his phone. He’d seen it on the television: they could do all sorts of stuff like that now. He knew he wasn’t the cleverest of people, but it seemed like a decent enough plan. One that might buy him some time before the coppers came looking for him. He was pretty sure they’d take the easy option and he was it.
As he left his house he slung his bag over his shoulder, pulled his cap down low and kept his head down. He lived a ten-minute walk to the train station; all he had to do was cut down all the backstreets. Keep off the main roads and he’d be out of this shithole in the next half an hour.
His phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he looked at the display.
Private number
He had no idea who that could be. He sent it to voicemail; it rang again. Too nosy for his own good, he lifted it to his ear.
‘Yeah.’
‘Mr Thompson, this is DC John Paton. I wonder if I could have a word?’
Jason swore under his breath; he was such an idiot. Why did he answer? He thought about throwing his phone into the bushes that ran alongside the front of the hotel he was walking past and running. Was there any point?
‘Of course, what about?’
He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, knowing he sounded like a fucking idiot. It was pretty obvious what it was about.
‘We’d like you to come to the station, just to go over a couple of things. It won’t take long. Are you busy now? Because I could come and pick you up. Save you the hassle of trying to get parked; it’s a bloody nightmare getting parked around here.’
Jason knew what he was doing: he was trying to befriend him. He did sound like a nice bloke though, maybe he should just go with him. Tell him the truth about the girl and get it over with.
‘It’s okay, I’m out walking. I’m not far from the station; I can be there in twenty minutes if that’s okay and it can wait that long.’
There was a slight pause on the other end of the phone, and he knew the copper was weighing up the odds on him actually turning up and whether or not he should call the shots.
‘That’s absolutely fine, thank you. I’ll see you soon.’
The copper hung up first, and Jason breathed out a sigh of relief. He had some serious thinking to do and only a couple of minutes to do it. He needed to decide whether to run or face the music.
He carried on heading towards the train station. He would bypass the police station on the way there unless he changed his mind at the last minute. Christ, this was the hardest decision of his life. He knew if he ran, he was messing things up even more than they already were, but the thought of being accused of murder and locked up terrified him more than anything he’d ever experienced.
Twenty-Four
Estelle stooped across the reception desk. All the guests had been checked in and there was a lull in people passing through. She had spoken to everyone she could think of, but there was no sign of Annie anywhere. She had disappeared without a trace. Her stomach felt as if there was a heavy lead ball lodged in between that and her diaphragm. There was a thudding inside her head so loud it was hard to think; a mixture of the alcohol and stress, she supposed. She was going to have to call the police: what choice did she have? Daddy would be furious; he didn’t like the police being called to the hotel, said it was bad for business, but she’d searched everywhere. She, Gary and Paula had searched all the empty guest rooms, bathrooms, linen cupboards, storerooms, every single nook and cranny. Gary had even been outside and checked the garage, outhouse, summerhouse in the grounds and every other place someone drunk might think was a good idea to go to sleep. He’d even checked inside the huge industrial bins that Estelle had wrinkled her nose at when he’d told her. He was right to check, though; God knows what seemed like a good idea when you were pissed was definitely not when you were sober. She looked at Gary, who nodded and passed her the phone.
‘You need to do it for Annie’s sake, call them. We’ve checked everywhere and spoken to everyone: no one has seen her since last night.’
‘Did you manage to get hold of David about checking the CCTV?’
‘Nope, I’ve left him a couple of voicemails and text messages. They were busy last night on reception. He’ll be fast asleep. I’m pretty sure as soon as he wakes up he’ll come into work and run the system.’
Estelle was angry about the fact that only one person knew how to work the bloody security system. It was ridiculous. A hotel this size should have at least one person on every shift that had been trained. As soon as she’d found Annie, she was going to arrange for the security company to come in and train the staff. Daddy could do one if he didn’t want to spend the money. The whole point of having it was for situations like this.
She dialled 101 and heard a recorded voice telling her she was being connected to Cumbria Police. Her heart was racing because deep down she knew something bad had happened. She just didn’t know what, and how did she explain that to some arsy copper who would probably try to fob her off and tell her she was wasting their
time?
The real voice that answered startled her; she hadn’t expected anyone to pick up the phone so soon.
‘Good afternoon, Cumbria Police, how can I help you?’
‘Hello, I’d like to report my friend missing. We can’t find her, and we’ve searched and searched everywhere possible. I’ve spoken to everyone who knows her. She’s gone. I don’t know what to do.’
The kind voice on the other end soothed Estelle’s frazzled nerves; the woman was nice. Not at all what she’d been expecting.
‘Then let me get some details from you and we’ll do our best to find her. I’m sure she won’t be far.’
Estelle nodded at Gary, and then began to answer the long list of questions. She had a bitter taste in her mouth; while she’d been having the best sex of her life with Mr Darcy, she now knew something terrible had happened to her friend and she didn’t know if she could ever forgive herself. When she’d finally answered the never-ending questions, the woman had told her that an officer would be there in the next hour to take details. Jesus, how much detail did they need? She wanted to scream Just tell them to get here with a dog and find her. She didn’t, though, it wasn’t her fault, she was doing her job. Instead Estelle thanked her profusely and ended the call, handing the phone back to Gary.
