House of Lies (Detective Karen Hart)

by D. S. Butler

  Tomorrow she would make sure Chidlow found the missing keys or she’d get a locksmith in to open them. You didn’t solve cases if you weren’t thorough.

  Karen’s stomach rumbled. She would have bought some crisps to go with her wine, but they only sold vegetable crisps, which Karen didn’t like and enjoyed even less when they were three pounds a packet.

  She selected the Home Curries app on her phone and put in an order for chicken tikka masala and mushroom rice. Probably not the healthiest choice for dinner, but she loved curry, and the food from the small Branston takeaway was excellent.

  She finished her wine, then carried her empty glass back to the bar and thanked Steve for her drink. She walked along the cut-through by the village hall to pick up her curry. There were deep puddles along the path, and by the time she got to the curry house her boots were covered in mud.

  Once home, she plated her dinner up in the kitchen and poured herself a glass of fizzy water. Then she walked across to the sideboard, lifted her glass in a toast and, gazing at the photograph of her husband, said, ‘Happy anniversary, Josh.’

  Time had made it easier. She could look at his photograph without tears springing to her eyes now. But she still had the burning need to find out who was responsible for covering up the truth behind his and Tilly’s deaths.

  She now knew who’d been driving the car that had forced him off the road. Technically Charlie Cook had killed her family, but it was all tied into the corruption in the force. Freeman had covered up for the Cooks and made the crash look like an accident.

  Her husband and daughter had perished, and Freeman had sidled up to her offering comfort and false pity. It made Karen’s blood boil to think how easily she’d been taken in.

  She turned away from the photograph, grabbed a fork from the cutlery drawer and took her plate to the table. She wouldn’t think about it now. She couldn’t. Tomorrow she’d phone Alice Price. Tonight she’d look through the files for an hour or so and see what she could find on DCI Churchill.

  She didn’t make it to the full hour. After thirty minutes of flipping through the paperwork she’d accumulated, her eyelids were drooping shut so she headed up to bed.

  In bed, she stared at the ceiling, trying to push away thoughts about the corruption inquiry and her current case, but she kept thinking about Morgan and Jill. Would it be awkward tomorrow? Had Morgan been getting fed up of her relying on him so much but been too polite to say so?

  She gave up trying to fall asleep and began to listen to an audiobook on her phone. An hour later, with the gentle tones of David Suchet’s voice reading Dead Man’s Folly filling her ears, she finally managed to drift off.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  By eleven p.m. Morgan had been scrolling through work files on his laptop. He’d been tired but had a feeling he’d missed something.

  Guilt niggled away at him. He’d only spent an hour with Jill tonight, just enough time to cook and eat some pasta. He hadn’t wanted to cancel their arrangement and let her down, but he’d been preoccupied and definitely not the best company. Of course, she’d quickly noticed something was bothering him.

  After Karen’s call, he’d tried to concentrate on what Jill was saying, to take part in the conversation, but he’d found it hard to focus on anything other than the case. It was unfair of him. Jill deserved better, but he couldn’t stop worrying about Karen. He didn’t want to leave her to deal with the situation alone. This investigation was a tough one for all of them, but it was especially hard for Karen. Cases involving kids always were, and she was still struggling to come to terms with Freeman’s betrayal.

  The meal tonight had been the fourth evening he’d spent time with Jill. She worked at the university as an administrator. She was unattached, attractive and had a way of chatting and telling stories that put Morgan at ease. She was a talker, he wasn’t. He preferred to sit back and listen.

  Definitely an introvert to her extrovert, but he liked her. She made him feel comfortable. He didn’t feel like he had to pretend to be something he wasn’t to keep her interested.

  They’d got on so well he’d started to think that this might develop into something meaningful. But then work had encroached, filling his head so full of theories and what-ifs that he couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

  He really needed an off switch. Other people managed it, didn’t they? Why couldn’t he?

  There were plenty of police officers who were happily married with kids. They must have found a way to balance home life with work. To leave cases at the door when they returned to their families. But he found it impossible. How was he supposed to stop thinking about the missing young woman?

  He’d checked in with Farzana, who was still at the station looking at yet more CCTV footage as they’d widened the search parameters, but there were no new developments.

  He’d made a plan for the next day. At first light, the search team would return to the Chidlow property. He’d asked the superintendent for more bodies and intended on expanding the search deeper into the surrounding woodland that encircled Chidlow’s land.

  He’d also organised the underwater team to dredge the lake. It wasn’t a huge area and he thought they’d be able to complete the job within a day. He hoped they wouldn’t find anything, but they had to check. The mud on Cressida’s jeans indicated she’d been near the shore of the lake at some point.

  The reddish mud was distinctive, although perhaps not unique. It was possible she’d got the mud on her jeans from somewhere else. Goodness knows – with all the rain they’d been having, there was no shortage of mud. They’d know more once Forensics had finished with her clothes.

  As he clicked on the next folder, he remembered Jill’s face as she’d left. One thing he liked about her was that she was easy to read. He didn’t have to puzzle over what she was thinking. Tonight she had looked disappointed and confused, which was understandable. He’d gone from being attentive and interested in what she had to say to being monosyllabic and distracted while she chatted to him.

  Every time she’d tried a different subject, his mind had returned to the current case. In the end she’d taken the hint, and though he’d felt bad, he’d been relieved when she left.

  ‘I can see you’re not quite here tonight,’ she’d said with a regretful smile. ‘Why don’t I go home? Maybe we can meet up next weekend for dinner.’

  Morgan had agreed. At least she hadn’t written him off completely. Hopefully by next weekend the case would be solved, and his mind would be clear. Sure, he’d have other cases to deal with, but nothing this major.

  He rubbed his eyes and stretched, thinking how tired he was. He’d have an early start tomorrow. Yes, plans were in place and the inspector in charge of the search knew what he was doing, but as SIO, Morgan was determined to be there before the team got started.

  He walked through to the kitchen to finish stacking the dishwasher, and as he stood by the sink, he glanced out as a sudden squall of wind blew leaves against the kitchen window.

  He hoped Natasha was safe, warm and dry somewhere, but he had a bad feeling about this case.

  He shook his head. A bad feeling. He was starting to sound like Rick with his superstitions. All that nonsense about the haunting of Chidlow House must have got to him. Morgan was a practical man and he dealt with facts, not emotions. All the same, when another gust of wind shook more leaves from the trees outside, he shivered.

  Early the following morning, Karen stood in the library and stared out over Chidlow’s property towards the grey, choppy lake. The underwater search team would be here soon. Now that all the students had gone home, except Ella Seaton, the house was oddly quiet. Karen found the stillness unnerving.

  Chidlow had allowed them to use his library as a temporary incident room. Doyle had provided the usual, very weak coffee. This morning he hadn’t even bothered with biscuits. As her stomach rumbled, Karen wished she hadn’t missed breakfast. She must have eaten a thousand calories for dinner last night, so why
was she so hungry this morning?

  ‘Everything all right?’

  Karen turned and saw Morgan entering the library. He smiled and she smiled back, pretending everything was fine and not awkward at all. It shouldn’t be. She didn’t know why she felt uncomfortable. She’d mentioned going over the files last night, but he was busy. That was all there was to it. It wasn’t a snub. They were still friends. He was still her boss. It didn’t change their working relationship at all.

  ‘The underwater search unit hasn’t arrived yet,’ Karen said, nodding at the lake. ‘They should be here soon though.’

  Morgan nodded. ‘Inspector Grant is leading the main search team through the woodland on the north-east side of the property this morning.’

  ‘The area behind the lake?’

  Morgan nodded, but before he could say anything else, the door opened and PC Smith appeared.

  ‘Here they are,’ Smith said, turning to smile at Sophie, who was standing behind him. She carried a cardboard tray of takeaway coffee cups and a paper bag.

  She held them up. ‘Pastries and strong coffee. I thought you might need it.’

  Morgan beamed at her. ‘Good thinking.’

  Sophie put the tray down on the table and they helped themselves to coffee.

  Karen sighed with pleasure. It was a million times better than the stuff Doyle had provided. ‘Where’s Rick?’

  ‘I left him out front. He’s just taking a phone call, following up a reference from one of the teachers. He should be here in a minute.’

  Karen nodded. Sophie and Rick had worked their way through all the teachers who’d taught on the study course, but had found nothing suggesting the staff were involved in the disappearance of the students.

  ‘This place is spooky. Have you seen those paintings?’ Rick asked as he walked into the library, heading straight for the bag of pastries and selecting a pain au chocolat.

  ‘The portraits?’ Karen asked.

  ‘Yes, and the hunting ones. Not sure why anyone would want to look at pictures like that day after day.’ He shuddered. ‘Not very cheerful. Have they started searching the lake yet?’ he asked, then bit into the pastry.

  ‘Not yet. But the team should be here soon,’ Karen said.

  There was a knock at the open door. Lord Chidlow stood on the threshold.

  ‘Good morning,’ Karen said.

  ‘Good morning,’ he replied, looking down his hawkish nose at her. ‘I see you’ve brought in some supplies.’ He eyed the pastries.

  ‘Yes, help yourself,’ Sophie said, and Karen was surprised he did so, selecting a croissant.

  ‘Have there been any developments?’ Chidlow asked, closely inspecting the croissant before taking a small bite.

  ‘Nothing new since yesterday,’ Rick said. ‘I’ve heard local stories about the haunting of this place. What can you tell us?’

  Karen wondered whether to shut the conversation down and direct Rick’s focus back to the plan for the day. They had a lot to get through, but she supposed an informal chat with Chidlow over pastries gave her a chance to observe the man. Maybe he’d lower his guard. There was no denying Cressida had reacted very strongly last night when they’d left the property and Chidlow had been standing by the window. And hadn’t Ella Seaton said Cressida was interested in older men?

  ‘Yes, that’s right. One of the most haunted houses in Britain,’ Chidlow said with pride.

  Karen doubted that. She’d never heard the ghost story and she’d lived locally for years.

  ‘It’s a sad tale,’ Chidlow continued. ‘My grandmother told it to me. The story was passed down over generations. There were three women in the Chidlow family, including my great-great-grandmother, who drowned themselves in the lake.’

  ‘How awful,’ Sophie said.

  Chidlow nodded. ‘It was a long time ago now, but one of the women is said to haunt the house, whispering her torment as water drips from her gown.’

  ‘Have you ever heard her?’ Sophie asked.

  Chidlow smiled and shook his head. ‘It’s said that only sensitive souls can hear her. Those who are mentally fragile themselves.’

  Karen frowned. ‘What a load of codswallop.’

  ‘You heard the whispering, didn’t you?’ Doyle said.

  He was standing behind Karen. She hadn’t realised the man had come into the room until he spoke. He moved so quietly around the house – creepily so.

  Karen said nothing.

  ‘I’m sure you did,’ Doyle insisted. ‘Just yesterday you asked me about it. You came out of the room you’d been searching and you said you’d heard something.’

  ‘Oh, you should be careful,’ Edward Chidlow said, tearing off a piece of croissant with his long, tapered fingers. ‘It’s supposed to be a warning if you hear the ghost of Chidlow House.’

  Karen managed not to roll her eyes. ‘I’ll keep my guard up,’ she said dryly.

  ‘Yes, you should be careful,’ Doyle said. ‘The last person who heard the whispering and sound of dripping water was Miss King.’

  ‘The teacher who fell off the roof?’ Rick asked, giving Karen a worried look.

  ‘For goodness’ sake,’ Karen said irritably. ‘I didn’t hear a ghost.’

  ‘Then what did you hear?’ Doyle asked.

  ‘Most likely a leak and students whispering somewhere. Or the house could have one of those old calling devices used to communicate with servants. What were they called? Voice pipes? Sound could travel in unusual ways in a house like this.’

  ‘I’m not aware of Chidlow House ever having any speaking tubes,’ Edward Chidlow said. ‘I could be wrong, I suppose.’

  Rick was still staring at Karen, wide-eyed. ‘Can’t hurt to be careful, Sarge.’

  Karen gave him a withering look. ‘Right. That’s enough ghost stories for one morning. Rick, you’re with me. Let’s get down to the lake so we’re ready to meet the search team. Sophie, I want you to contact the family liaison officers, please. We need to check on Cressida. She could have remembered something that could help us track down Natasha.’

  ‘Yes, Sarge,’ Sophie said, putting down her coffee and pulling out her mobile phone.

  As she turned to leave, Karen caught the expression on Morgan’s face. He was frowning, looked preoccupied.

  She paused, about to ask if he was okay, when PC Smith appeared at the door again. ‘Sarge,’ he said, looking at Karen and then glancing over to Morgan. ‘The underwater search team is here.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Rick and Karen stood by the edge of the lake, watching the team unload its equipment. In the distance, there were calls from the search party heading into the woods. The lake’s surface was still now that the wind had died down. An old blue rowboat with peeling paint and battered oars was pulled up on the shore. Lord Chidlow said it hadn’t been used in years.

  The team had brought a small vessel on a trailer pulled by a Land Rover. Lord Chidlow had not been pleased when he realised they were going to drive across his pristine lawn, especially after all the rain. Deep tracks of mud had been churned up by the wheels, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Jed Morris, the head of the underwater search team, explained the procedure to Rick and Karen. ‘First we’ll take the boat around and see if there’s anything visible from the surface. If not, that’s when we’ll start to send the divers down. We’ll do it section by section, fanning out so we don’t miss anything. It’s not a huge area so we should be done by the end of today.’

  ‘Don’t you have scanning equipment?’ Karen asked. ‘I thought you’d be able to use that to locate any unexpected objects on the bottom of the lake.’

  ‘We do, but unfortunately the scanning equipment is being used by another team this morning. We could have put off the search, but I understand you’re keen to get started.’

  ‘Yes. We’ve got a missing girl and we’re worried that she could be . . .’ Karen trailed off, looking at the lake.

  ‘Of course, yes. We’ll cover every
inch of the lake. You don’t need to worry. If she’s there, we’ll find her.’

  ‘Is it going to take longer without the scanning equipment?’ Karen asked.

  Jed nodded. ‘Yes, but like I said it’s not a large area.’

  ‘All right. Thanks,’ Karen said.

  As Jed walked away, Rick turned to her and said, ‘Seems a bit daft having a diving team but not the scanning equipment to go with it.’

  ‘Cutbacks,’ she said.

  Rick lifted his collar as the wind picked up again, sending ripples over the surface of the lake. They stood in silence as they watched the vessel do a slow loop around the lake. There was a cluster of weeds in the centre that looked like a miniature green island.

  ‘Right,’ Karen said. ‘Rick, you can stay here, see if they find anything. I’m going to walk back.’

  Rick frowned as Karen started to head off in the opposite direction to the house. ‘Where are you going, Sarge? It’s that way,’ he said, jerking his thumb towards Chidlow House.

  ‘I want to call in at the groundsman’s cottage first,’ Karen said. ‘I think we should talk to him again today. Officially. Bring him up to the house.’

  ‘Then why don’t you just call him on his mobile and get him to meet you there?’

  ‘He doesn’t have a mobile,’ Karen said.

  Rick looked aghast. ‘I thought everyone had a mobile these days.’

  ‘Most people do. I guess he takes this living-off-the-grid thing seriously. Anyway, the cottage isn’t far. Just on the other side of these trees, according to Chidlow. I’ll see you back at the house.’

  ‘You really want me to stand here until the search is finished?’ Rick asked.

  Karen kept her tone serious. ‘Absolutely. If they find something, I want to be the first to know.’

  Rick sighed, folding his arms over his chest. ‘You spoil me, Sarge. I get all the best jobs.’

  ‘I’m just messing with you. Stay here to see if they spot anything from the surface. If not, then head back. DI Morgan’s got a long list of tasks waiting.’