by D. S. Butler
‘It’s possible,’ Karen said, though she wasn’t convinced.
They’d know soon enough if she’d been intoxicated. They’d take samples in the mortuary and get them processed for drink and drugs.
They’d been standing there for a couple of minutes, watching the vessel in the middle of the lake, when one of the underwater search team approached. It was Jed, the team leader Karen had spoken to earlier.
‘It’s her?’ Karen asked.
He nodded. ‘I think so. Bad news. The worst.’
‘I was just thinking about the women in the Chidlow family who were said to have drowned themselves in the lake. Can you tell if Natasha drowned?’ Rick asked.
Jed shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. But I can tell you that we found her body in the middle of the lake. Ropes had been tied around her waist and those ropes were attached to sandbags. I doubt she did that herself.’
Morgan blew out a breath and nodded slowly. ‘Whoever did it didn’t want the body to be found.’
‘That’s my conclusion.’
‘They must have used a boat then,’ Karen said, ‘to get her body out that far.’
Jed nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘There is a rowing boat nearby,’ Karen said. ‘We’ll need to have that examined by Forensics.’
She remembered seeing it when she walked to Mike Harrington’s cottage.
Despite his limp, Harrington was tall and strong. He had access to the sandbags. It would have been easy for him to put Natasha’s body in the boat, row halfway across the lake, then tie sandbags to her body and dump her over the side.
Karen hadn’t believed him capable of that much evil. She raked a hand through her hair and nudged the toe of her boot against the thick red mud at the edge of the lake.
They stood silently, showing respect, as Natasha’s body was removed from the water and put on the divers’ vessel. As the diver closest to them struggled with the black body bag, Natasha’s arm flopped free. Even from this distance, Karen could see the young woman’s skin was mottled and swollen.
She looked away. ‘Any injuries immediately apparent?’
‘You’ll have to ask the pathologist about that,’ Jed said. ‘He probably won’t be able to get much from looking at her here, so we’ll arrange for her body to be sent to the mortuary.’
‘Thank you,’ Morgan said. ‘I’ll liaise with the pathologist and get the post-mortem underway as soon as possible.’
All four of them turned to look as the vessel containing Natasha’s body headed for the shoreline.
‘So sad,’ Morgan said. ‘What a waste of a young life.’
‘I . . . I can’t believe it.’ Tears were streaming down Cressida’s cheeks as she sat on the sofa between her parents, who were trying in vain to comfort her.
Sophie and Rick had the unenviable task of going to inform Natasha’s parents that their daughter’s body had been found, and so Karen and Morgan had gone straight to the Blakes’ residence to update them and also to try to get more information from Cressida.
‘How did it happen?’ Ryan Blake asked. His breathing was short and sharp. ‘Did she drown? Was it an accident?’
‘We don’t know yet, sir. We’ll have some more information after the post-mortem,’ Karen explained. ‘But it’s unlikely to have been an accident, in my opinion. She was found in the centre of the lake.’
Karen paused. She didn’t mention the sandbags. The fact that Natasha had been weighed down at the bottom of the lake was information they wanted to keep to themselves. It could prove important later when validating statements and witness reports.
‘Have you remembered anything else, Cressida? Any memories of events on Thursday evening?’ Morgan asked.
Cressida didn’t speak, simply shaking her head as a tear dropped from her cheek and made a dark circle on the leg of her jeans.
‘I can’t bear to think about what must have happened to that poor girl,’ Jasmine Blake said, stroking her daughter’s hair. ‘I’m almost glad Cressida can’t remember.’ She looked at Karen. ‘Who would want to remember something like that?’
‘It must be very traumatic,’ Karen said, ‘but if somebody hurt Natasha, we need to find out who it was and make sure he doesn’t do it again to someone else.’
‘He?’ Mr Blake questioned.
‘A slip of the tongue,’ Karen said. ‘We don’t know who’s responsible.’ Though usually in these types of cases, it was a man.
‘Well, I want you to catch whoever did this, of course. Unless it was an accident,’ he suggested again.
‘We’re keeping an open mind until after the post-mortem,’ Morgan said. ‘Perhaps we could ask you to look again at the CCTV images of the man Natasha was with on Monday evening?’
‘Again?’ Ryan asked, looking up. ‘Have you got better images now?’
‘I’m afraid not, sir. They’re the same ones. Just in case it rings any bells.’ He pulled printed copies of the images out of the file and showed them to the Blakes.
Cressida refused to look. ‘I don’t want to see. I can’t believe she’s gone. Why would she go and see that man without telling me? We were supposed to be friends.’ She turned to her father. ‘Why would she do that?’
Her mother patted her arm and Ryan Blake put his head in his hands after passing the printout of the CCTV still back to Morgan.
‘I’m afraid we don’t recognise him,’ Jasmine said. ‘Sorry.’
‘I understand,’ Morgan said. ‘It’s not a very good picture. Cressida, can you think back to Monday evening for me? Was there anything Natasha said that made you think that she was planning to meet somebody later?’
Cressida rubbed her eyes. ‘She didn’t say anything about it.’
‘What about on Thursday? What did you talk about?’
‘I can’t remember, except . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘We just talked about Lord Chidlow being back in the house and how ridiculous Ethan was, following Natasha and me around all day with puppy-dog eyes.’ She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. ‘I just can’t believe she’s gone.’ She broke down in sobs.
As carefully and sensitively as he could, Morgan asked more questions, but it was no good. Cressida couldn’t talk through her tears.
‘Right. That’s enough,’ her father said abruptly. ‘I know you need to find the monster who did this, but not at the expense of my daughter’s mental health. She’s seeing the psychologist shortly, and this is only making her more distressed.’
‘Cressida is our best chance of finding out who did this, Mr Blake.’
He shook his head stubbornly. ‘No, I’m sorry, but I have to put my foot down. My daughter’s needs come first.’
Sobbing, Cressida buried her head in her father’s shoulder.
They drove back to Chidlow House in silence. The blustery autumnal weather continued. Trees leaned in the wind.
Karen stared out over empty brown fields. It was difficult when you had to deal with such a witness. After being through a serious trauma, Cressida was damaged. Now she’d found out her friend hadn’t been as lucky as she had and hadn’t made it out alive.
‘What do you think about Harrington?’ Karen asked as Morgan stopped at the crossroads.
‘He’s been through a traumatic period in his life. It’s changed him.’
‘But does that mean he’s capable of something like this? Killing a teenage girl?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘He just doesn’t seem . . .’
‘Sometimes you can’t rely on instincts.’
‘I know that.’ As Morgan pulled away from the lights, Karen spoke again. ‘What about Chidlow?’
‘I don’t know. He’s a canny sort,’ Morgan said. ‘I’m sure his ex-wife was motivated to paint him in a bad light after what he did to her. But the peephole really makes me uncomfortable, I have to admit that.’
Karen agreed. ‘I hope the post-mortem gives us more to go on.’
‘I hope so too
,’ Morgan said, turning towards Harmston and Chidlow House.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
As soon as Karen and Morgan entered Chidlow House, Doyle accosted them.
‘Look at this,’ he said, waving his mobile phone in their direction. ‘It’s a disgrace!’
‘What is it?’ Karen asked, finding it hard to focus on his ever-moving phone.
‘There are now reports all over social media about the body in the lake. They make me sound terrible,’ Doyle said, ‘as though I just stood by and let it all happen.’
‘I see,’ Karen said.
‘Is that all you have to say for yourself? You’ve handled this whole thing terribly.’
‘What did you expect, Mr Doyle?’ Karen asked. ‘Your course was full of teenagers. Of course it’s going to be all over social media.’
‘You should have stopped it!’
‘How?’
Doyle glowered at her before turning to Morgan. ‘And do you have anything to say for yourself?’
‘Only that we’re in the middle of an investigation and have a lot to be getting on with.’
‘Well, thank you very much,’ Doyle said. ‘The course is over; my reputation is ruined. I can give up any hopes of getting another programme like this off the ground. But you don’t care about that, do you?’
‘It’s most unfortunate, Mr Doyle,’ Morgan said. ‘But right now, we’re primarily concerned with getting justice for Natasha.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, don’t worry about me. You’ve only ruined my life.’
Karen and Morgan exchanged a look.
Karen could only put Doyle’s outburst down to the shock of the situation. It was hard to believe anyone could really be that self-absorbed. Stress affected people in odd ways.
Just then, shouting at the end of the corridor made both Karen and Morgan move past Doyle to investigate.
It was Lord Chidlow. He was standing in the doorway of his study berating the officers inside.
‘Be careful with that,’ he said. ‘And you can’t take my computer! I don’t give you permission. I need it,’ he said, his arms folded and his lower lip protruding in a pout like a petulant child.
Farzana was standing behind him, and she turned and looked gratefully at Karen and Morgan as they approached.
She left Chidlow and walked towards them. ‘The search of his office is finished,’ Farzana said. ‘We haven’t found anything, but he’s quite reluctant to give up his computer.’
‘He doesn’t have a choice,’ Morgan said.
‘No, I did try to explain that to him. We’re packing it up now to take it back to the lab, but he’s not happy. He’s spent the last half an hour standing in the doorway telling us off for making a mess.’
‘Leave it to me,’ Karen said, leaving Farzana with Morgan and walking up to Chidlow.
She peered into the room. The study looked in pretty good shape. There was nothing dumped on the floor; everything from the drawers and filing cabinets had been returned.
‘You can have your study back now, Lord Chidlow,’ Karen said. ‘But we will need to take your computer.’
‘I don’t see why. There’s nothing on it.’
‘It’s procedure,’ Karen said. ‘I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.’
‘I’m not worried,’ he snapped. ‘Besides, you won’t find anything on it. I wiped it the other day.’
‘You wiped it?’ Karen raised an eyebrow. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘Because it had a virus,’ he said, looking imperiously down his nose at Karen. ‘I clicked a link on a spam email. The internet is full of scammers these days. So I had to reboot it and install a new operating system. You’ll find nothing on it.’
‘I see. The timing of that is quite suspicious.’
‘Suspicious? I don’t see why. Viruses are everywhere these days.’
‘Just as we’re taking your computer away to analyse the hard drive, you tell me that it’s been wiped. That could be viewed as the behaviour of somebody with something to hide.’
‘Well, think what you like,’ Chidlow said with a shrug. ‘I’m telling you the truth.’
‘That’s okay, sir. It’s likely that our technicians can get information from the hard drive anyway,’ Karen said.
‘They can?’ He looked surprised. ‘Well, it doesn’t bother me. Like I said, nothing to hide.’
‘Good.’
They stood back as two officers brought out the computer. ‘All done now, Sarge,’ the last one said, holding a large cardboard box.
‘So you’re still taking it,’ Chidlow said. ‘After how accommodating I’ve been, how helpful.’
‘Like I said, sir, we need to look at it. It’s procedure.’
He pushed past her into the study. ‘It’s a disgrace how I’ve been treated. It really is.’ He whirled back around to face her. ‘It shouldn’t be me you’re looking into. You need to look at Mike Harrington.’
‘Why is that?’ Karen asked.
‘You know he’s got a messed-up leg? It’s because he tried to kill himself after his son died. He’s not right in the head. He’s the man you want.’
Chidlow’s words and tone were full of spite. He couldn’t have sunk any lower in Karen’s estimation. As for Harrington, despite her best efforts to remain neutral, Karen felt a pang of sympathy for him.
As Chidlow continued to complain about his treatment, Karen caught a glimpse of Harrington and his dog Sandy on the lawns, walking towards the house.
Chidlow slammed the door, missing Karen’s face by a few inches.
‘He seems to have a temper problem,’ Morgan commented as Karen returned to him and Farzana.
‘He really does. I saw Harrington outside. Think I’ll go and have a word.’
Morgan nodded. ‘Good idea. We need to keep the pressure on until we can press charges.’
Karen slipped through the French windows and walked down the stone steps. On the patio, she called out to Harrington. He turned and saw her but made no effort to come any closer. Sandy bounded happily towards Karen.
She made a fuss over the dog and then walked up to Harrington.
With a sigh, Harrington frowned at the dog. ‘Ungrateful wretch. You’re supposed to be on my side. I’m the one who feeds you.’
‘She’s a friendly little thing.’
‘Opposite of me, you mean?’
Karen said nothing.
‘They’re still searching my place. I had to get out of there.’ He glared at Karen as though it was all her fault. ‘They’re going through all my stuff, the boxes . . .’
‘The boxes containing your son’s belongings?’ Karen asked, although she already knew the answer.
He nodded stiffly.
‘I’m sorry. I know that must be very difficult, but it is necessary.’
‘I didn’t put my shirt on the roof.’
He returned Karen’s steady gaze. No fidgeting, no refusal to make eye contact. Her instincts told her he was telling the truth. But what had Morgan said? Sometimes you can’t rely on instincts?
‘Any idea how it got up there?’ she asked.
‘Someone must have put it on the roof to divert attention to me.’
‘Who?’
He sighed and looked up at the grey sky. ‘I don’t have a clue. All I know is being your prime suspect and having officers turn my cottage upside down is a pretty awful experience.’
‘If you’ve nothing to hide, we won’t find anything.’
‘No? Then how do you explain the shirt? How do I know one of your lot didn’t plant it? How do I know they won’t do the same again?’
‘I know the team. They’re trustworthy.’
‘Really? You don’t sound so sure.’
‘Yes, really.’
‘It goes on more often than you’d think. Bung an officer a few quid and they’ll do you a favour.’
It was Karen who broke eye contact first. She was well aware of the possibilities.
He looked at her angrily. ‘A
nyway, that wasn’t why I came up to the house. I need to show you something.’
‘Oh really? What?’
‘Something I saw last night. I think you’ll want to see it.’
‘Why? Is it relevant to the case?’
‘It could well be.’
‘Then why didn’t you tell DI Morgan or DC Cooper about it during your interview?’
‘Two reasons. I hadn’t had a chance to check it out yet, and they were looking at me like they believed I was guilty. I didn’t trust them.’
‘And you trust me?’
He looked at her through narrowed eyes.
‘All right. Where’s this thing you want to show me?’ she asked.
He pointed at a copse of trees on the right side of the property. ‘Over there.’
Karen glanced back towards the house. She was still wearing her coat, and her bag, which contained a self-defence spray, was looped over her shoulder. That made her feel a little more confident, but it wasn’t a good idea to walk off with a murder suspect alone.
‘I’m trying to help,’ Harrington said.
Karen pulled out her mobile, typed a quick message to Morgan, letting him know where she’d be and who she was with, and then nodded. ‘All right. Let’s go.’
He led her across the lawn, only leaning heavily on his stick when they headed through the trees. The leaves were damp and slippery underfoot. Sandy had no trouble. She scampered ahead before stopping by a stream to wait for them.
Harrington looked down at the fast-flowing water. ‘It’s not normally much more than a ditch, but after all the rain, it’s swollen in size,’ he said. ‘We’ll need to cross it. Will you be all right?’
Sandy jumped to the far bank, then turned back expectantly. Despite his bad leg, Harrington crossed with no trouble, his long limbs making it look easy. He held out a hand, as though it were nothing more than a muddy puddle Karen needed to step over.
She gritted her teeth. He wore boots that looked like they had thick, deep grooves in the soles. She wore boots too, but hers were not designed for outdoor pursuits.
Karen took a short run up, then jumped. She crossed the stream fine but stumbled as she landed, her knee bending awkwardly under her. Her bad knee, thanks to Charlie Cook, she thought, feeling a dart of pain as her knee hit the ground.
