by A L Fraine
“Lizzy? You mean Elizabeth, their daughter, right?”
“That’s right,” the woman replied. “She’s a wild one. Always causing her mum and dad to worry.”
“Is that right?” Jon replied, interested in the woman’s opinion. “How so?”
“Oh, you know. She was always out partying when she lived here. She was one of them ones, you know? Going with other girls and all that. It’s a bit weird, don’t you think?”
Jon didn’t think it was weird at all, but he wasn’t about to get into an argument with this woman when she was giving them some valuable information. “Anything else?”
“Well, she’d get involved in some of them marches that happen up in London, you know? Protesting the government and all that. She was a strange one, that’s all I’ll say.”
“Okay, thank you. So, Mr and Mrs Lockwood are at the estate, and that’s over near Shere, right?”
“I know where it is,” Kate replied, her phone out. She tilted the screen to him, showing him the map she had open.
“That’s right,” the woman replied.
“Thank you. And where do you live?”
“Next door, just here,” she pointed. “My name’s Miriam Walsh.”
“Okay, thank you, Miriam. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else from you.”
“Of course, dear. I hope you find them.”
“I’m sure we will,” Jon replied and led the way back to the car.
4
The entrance to the driveway of the Lockwood estate was, as it turned out, somewhat understated. Along the winding country road, the left turn was framed on either side by stout brick columns. At maybe four foot high, a stone plaque adorned the right-hand column, with two words carved on it, one above the other.
Lockwood Estate.
Jon turned in and drove up the well-maintained tarmac driveway, unable to see any kind of house until the road meandered through some trees and a rise in the landscape. They approached a wall with an open gateway that led on to a paved courtyard. In the centre, a circular patch of grass held a babbling fountain with a stag standing proudly atop it. Ahead, the enormous main house rose grandly, its ancient brickwork a mottled black and brown, inset with modern UPVC windows. An oversized garage stood to the left, and beyond, the house’s grounds stretched off into the surrounding greenery.
It was an impressive sight and spoke of an old, aristocratic family home, passed down through generations. All around the front of the house, cars of all kinds were parked up. Range Rovers, BMWs, Audis, there was even a Tesla charging beside the garage. Many of them sported personalised number plates, most of which were indecipherable to Jon, but probably meant a lot to the owners.
“Well, I think this takes the cake for the grandest house I’ve visited in Surrey so far,” Jon remarked.
“It’s impressive, that’s for sure,” Kate agreed as they climbed out. “Looks like there’s a fair few people here.”
“Hopefully, that includes Lizzy’s parents. What were their names again?”
“Um,” Kate replied and checked her phone. “Piers and Ingrid Lockwood.”
“Okay. Let’s go and see if they’re around,” Jon suggested and walked across the driveway towards the main front porch. The covered entrance with its inset door was quite an imposing sight, but there were lights on inside, and as he approached, he could clearly see movement.
Jon pressed the doorbell, and even that sounded grand and expensive with its loud ding-dong that echoed through the structure.
A figure’s silhouette approached the frosted, patterned glass before the main door was pulled wide to reveal a woman who Jon guessed was perhaps in her sixties. She looked a little harried and regarded them expectantly.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, Ma’am, but I’m Detective Pilgrim, and this is Detective O’Connell, and we were wondering if Piers and Ingrid Lockwood were here?”
“You’re with the police?”
“We are,” Jon confirmed.
The woman blinked as she seemed to process this for a moment. “Is Harold okay?”
“Um,” Jon began. “I’m not sure who that is.”
“Oh, thank God. I thought you had some news for us or something. I’m sorry. You see, he’s just been taken into hospital with a suspected heart issue, and, well, we’re all a little worried about him.”
“I see,” Jon replied. “Well, no, this isn’t about him. Are Piers and Ingrid here?”
“They are, indeed, of course. Come in, come in. I’m Veronica Lockwood. If you need anything at all, please just ask.”
Jon followed Veronica into the house, directly into a huge entrance hall that stretched from the front of the house to the back, where wood-framed patio doors led outside. The room was a dark wooden panelled affair that spoke of age and wealth, that seemed difficult for the chandelier lights to fully illuminate. Tables stood around the sides, with white vases decorated with blue patterns on them, filled with artfully arranged flowers. Several statues adorned alcoves or hung on the walls. Jon made out a nude Artemis with a bow and a stag’s head to one side. Closer to the door, a large Green Man’s head leered at them, its mouth wide as leaves sprouted from its face. Further up, granite gargoyles leaned out from base of the first floor balcony, sticking their tongues out, as if pulling faces at him and Kate.
It was an impressive sight, made all the grander by the paintings hung in gilded frames featuring dour faced people in period clothing.
“What is it, dear?” A man of similar age to Veronica walked up, followed by a couple of others behind him.
“These are the police,” Veronica replied to him. “They want to see Piers and Ingrid.”
“Oh, I see,” the man replied. “Something the matter? I bet it’s Lizzy again, causing trouble.”
“I’d rather not say, for the moment,” Jon replied.
“Of course not. I’m Howard, by the way, Veronica’s husband. This is our house. Well, we live here, with my father. It’s his house, really, I suppose.”
“Harold, right?”
“Correct. I hope he’s ok. Do you know how he’s doing?”
“I’m sorry, no,” Jon replied, feeling a little frustrated that they seemed to think that he would know how this Harold person was doing.
“Is it about Harold?” another woman asked, walking over.
“No, Cece,” Veronica replied. “They want to talk to Piers and Ingrid.”
“Oh really? Not that wayward daughter of theirs again, is it? Chester,” she called out to a young man who looked about sixteen or so, engrossed in his phone. “Chester, be a dear go and get Uncle Piers and Auntie Ingrid, will you?”
Chester groaned, got up, and walked out of the room.
“I’m sure they won’t be long,” Veronica said. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”
“Not right now,” Jon replied. “I’d like use of a private room, though, to talk to them.”
“Of course, that’s no problem,” Veronica replied with a smile. “Please, this way. You can use the morning room. We’ll bring them through. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”
“No, thanks,” Jon replied.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Kate said.
“Very well,” Veronica replied, leading them through a side door off of the main hall, towards the back. Jon could see doors leading outside to a large patio along the back of the house, with seating areas and tables that looked out over a huge open area of grass. Now, this really was how the other half lived, he thought as he followed Veronica.
The morning room was a sizable carpeted room with chairs, tables, bookshelves, and a piano covered in vases and statues. There were other doors leading out, but Veronica walked around the room, shutting them.
“I’ll make sure no one else comes in here, of course,” Veronica said.
“Thank you. How many people are here, by the way?”
“Oh, well, there’s my husband and me. We live here. Then there’s my childre
n and their families. So um, about twelve, thirteen?”
“I see, thank you.”
“Aaah, here they are. Piers, these two detectives wish to speak to you and Ingrid. I’ll leave you be, okay?”
“Is it about Lizzy? It’s about Lizzy, isn’t it?” Ingrid asked. “She’s not in her room.”
“Mr and Mrs Lockwood if you wouldn’t mind coming and sitting down, please,” Jon suggested as Kate guided Veronica to the door. She was clearly interested in staying in the room to hear what was going to be said.
Lizzy’s parents sat, looking unsure as the door finally closed. They were alone. At the expectant looks on Ingrid and Piers' faces, Jon felt that familiar weight settle in his stomach. He’d told too many people about family members dying over the years and it never got easier. Today would just be another of those days, and there was nothing for it other than for him to get it done.
“Thanks for seeing us,” Jon began. “Can I just confirm that you’re Ingrid and Piers Lockwood?”
“We are,” Piers replied. “What’s this about? Is it Lizzy? Is she in trouble again?”
“Piers, shush, let him talk, please,” Ingrid chastised him.
“Sorry,” Piers replied.
“It is about Lizzy. I’m sorry to say, she was found dead this morning.”
“Oh God,” Ingrid whimpered.
“Dead?” Piers asked.
“We believe she was murdered,” Jon continued. “I’m sorry.”
Ingrid grabbed onto Piers and pulled him in as tears pooled in her eyes, then spilled over. She mumbled and muttered into his neck, protesting against the truth, as Piers stared off into the middle distance, his face a picture of shock.
Jon sat back and glanced over at Kate. She met his gaze briefly, a sympathetic expression on her face as they waited. After a while, looking shocked and in a state of disbelief, Piers’ emotions finally caught up with him too, and he cried as freely as Ingrid did. But it didn’t last.
After a few more moments, Piers looked up.
“Who did it?” There was a fierceness to him. He was angry. It was a common enough reaction to this kind of thing. He’d seen it often enough in people, especially men.
“We don’t know yet. We can’t go into too much detail, but I can tell you she was found in the water at Silent Pool.”
“Her favourite place,” Piers muttered under his breath, and Ingrid wailed once again.
“How did she die?”
“Until we know a little more,” Jon replied, “I’d like to keep details to a minimum if that’s okay? Restricting who knows what can be a useful tool in an investigation.”
Piers nodded and returned to hugging his wife.
“Can you tell me about your daughter?” Jon asked, but Piers seemed to be lost in thought and didn’t answer. Jon glanced over at Kate. He needed to ask some questions, but it was often not worth rushing these things. Maybe Piers needed a moment.
Jon waited, before saying his name once more. “Piers?”
“It was Spencer,” he said, turning to look at them.
“Spencer?” Jon asked.
“My… My brother. Jesus, I can’t believe I’m saying it, but it has to be.”
“Your brother killed your daughter?” Kate asked, sounding as incredulous as Jon did.
“He’s always hated her. They’ve never got along.”
“Don’t say that,” Ingrid said, looking up at her husband.
“But it’s true, they haven’t.”
“This is not the time to be talking like this,” she pressed.
“This is exactly the time,” Piers snapped. “You heard him last night. The moment Lizzy left the room, he started saying stuff about her. Mouthing off. ”
“What stuff?” Jon asked.
Piers sighed. “Just stuff, saying she was meddling in things, being nosey. It doesn’t matter, it was all lies anyway. Besides, I wouldn’t believe a damn word that came out of that criminal’s mouth. You should check your databases for him. He’s a druggy and a criminal who works with bloody foreigners. He’s a liability, and he’s always hated Lizzy. He’s your man.”
Jon frowned, disliking his casual bigotry and xenophobia, but he knew better than to challenge him. They needed him on-side. “What makes you so sure? What did he say?”
“I think she scared him. They’re both rebels, in their own way. But Spencer took a different path to Lizzy. Lizzy… Well, we’ve not seen her much recently, but she’s done some private investigative work over the years, and I think he didn’t like the idea of her looking too closely at his life. That, and he just didn’t agree with her point of view on certain things.”
“So, he was expressing his hate?”
“He was warning us that she’s… I don’t know… Too nosy for her own good.” He sighed. “Look, we’ve had our differences, Lizzy and us. She was always getting into trouble and causing problems for the family…”
“Piers, please,” Ingrid said suddenly. “That’s enough. Lizzy is… She doesn’t deserve to be spoken about like that.”
“But they need to know,” Piers protested, before turning back to Jon. “Our family is quite conservative, but Lizzy, well… She’s always been a bit of a radical leftist, going on marches and stuff. And she often got into arguments. She should have learned to keep her mouth shut more often. And then there were the boyfriends and girlfriends. She was promiscuous—”
“Piers! Stop it. Don’t talk about her like that,” Ingrid said.
“But it’s true.”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s our daughter, and I won’t have you speaking ill of her.”
Jon watched the interplay between them and found it interesting how Ingrid didn’t like what Piers was saying but didn’t argue against the content. She didn’t deny anything, she just didn’t want him saying it.
“Did Lizzy get on with the rest of the family?” Jon asked, looking at Ingrid.
She sniffed. “No. Not really. Most of them didn’t like her. Piers is right about that. She was the black sheep of the family, I suppose.”
“Did anyone dislike her enough to kill her?”
“I don’t know about that,” Ingrid replied.
“Ingrid,” Jon said, leaning forward to look at her. “Do you think it was Spencer?”
“I… I don’t know. But, he did say some terrible things about her last night after she took Harold up to bed.”
“So, tell me about last night, what happened? You were all gathered here, right? The whole family?”
“That’s right,” Ingrid replied, sniffing as she gathered her thoughts. “It was all for Harold. He’s got cancer, and he’s not got all that long to live.”
“And Harold is your…?” Jon asked, leaving the end of the sentence hanging.
“My grandfather,” Piers replied. “He lives here with my mother and father, Veronica and Howard. Veronica was the one who brought you in here.”
“I see,” Jon replied. “And Lizzy was at this party, with people she knew didn’t like her?”
“I don’t think she wanted to be, but I believe Harold convinced her. It was intended to be the final big gathering of the family while he was still healthy enough to do it…” Piers choked up as he spoke, and stopped talking. He looked away as he got himself under control again.
Jon felt sorry for him. What had been planned as a happy occasion had descended into a nightmare.
“Lizzy always liked Harold,” Ingrid said, while Piers got his emotions under control. “They always got on well, and last night, after the party, around ten o’clock, she helped him to bed.”
“That’s when Spencer got on his high horse,” Piers said, rejoining the conversation. “I think we talked for a little while, but I’d had enough, and at around… I don’t know, half-past ten, I suggested we call it a night. We went to our rooms, and that was the last time we saw Lizzy.”
Ingrid choked up and started to sob once more, pulling Piers close as her emotions got the better of her again. Piers hugg
ed her back, before speaking again. “My niece, Portia, my sister, Vivian’s daughter, she said she saw Lizzy around twelve-thirty. She said she was heading out for a drive. I’m guessing she went to Silent Pool.”
“Did she say she saw anyone else go after her?”
“No, she didn’t say anything else. I guess you’ll have to ask her. Look, I’m sorry, Detectives, can we have some time?” Piers asked, still hugging Ingrid as she wept.
Jon nodded. “Of course. I’ll put in a call, get our family liaison officer to come down and spend some time with you. She’ll pass you any new information as the investigation progresses. Okay?”
Piers nodded.
“I’ll call her,” Kate replied and got up, walking across the room to make the call.
“One last thing,” Jon said. “So, the whole family is here, in this house?”
“That’s right,” Piers confirmed. “We’ll be here for a few days, unless…”
“No. There’s no need. This works for us, actually. You can stay,” Jon replied. “I’ll get everyone to stay, in fact. It might make things easier all round.” Jon got up. “We’ll give you some time.”
Piers nodded as he hugged his wife.
5
Approaching the door, Kate opened it and walked out. She stopped on the far side and glanced back, giving him a warning look. Jon wondered what that glance was about but soon found out as he stepped through and closed the door behind him.
Veronica and Howard stood waiting, and behind them, it looked like the rest of the family were there too, standing in groups, watching and waiting.
He supposed he should have expected this, with a big family gathering here. The sight intimidated him, but perhaps this was for the best, as he could address all of them at once and let them know what was going on.
Taking a breath, Jon stepped forward. “Good morning, everyone. It’s good you’re all here because you all need to know this. I’m sorry to say that Piers and Ingrid’s daughter, Lizzy, was found dead this morning. We’re currently treating her death as suspicious, and we are going to need to talk to all of you at some point about the events of last night.”
