On Cold Ground (Detective Karen Hart) Page 15

  What was that smell? She wrinkled her nose and looked around the kitchen. Did Laurel have a problem with her fridge? Maybe the power supply had cut out, and the food had gone bad?

  She opened the fridge, and the light came on. There was a new bottle of Chardonnay inside, some butter, a shrivelled lettuce and a carton of UHT milk. The smell didn’t seem to be coming from the fridge.

  She scanned the kitchen. Four empty wine bottles were lined up on the kitchen counter beside the sink, but other than that, it was tidy.

  It was a lovely flat, with a high-spec kitchen, fancy light fittings, huge windows and cream walls and carpets. Nina felt a pang of jealousy, comparing it to her small rented house in Lincoln city centre, which was in a terrible state compared to her sister’s apartment – filled with second-hand furniture and horrible multicoloured carpets that must have been decades old. No matter how much air freshener she sprayed, or how many perfume diffusers she set in different areas around the house, she couldn’t get rid of the persistent musty smell, and suspected the cause was damp.

  But the smell in her sister’s flat wasn’t caused by damp. It was a peculiar, sweet, stomach-churning scent.

  ‘Laurel?’

  No answer.

  ‘Laurel!’ She shouted this time. ‘It’s Nina. Are you home?’

  Still nothing. With a sigh, she headed out of the open-plan area to the back of the apartment, towards the bedroom. As she walked along the corridor, the smell got stronger, and for the first time, Nina felt a bubble of fear build in her chest. She pressed a hand against her stomach.

  ‘Laurel?’ Her voice was quiet now, tentative.

  She paused beside the bedroom door and put a hand on the wood panelling. Her heart was thudding. She pushed it open and then froze in horror at the sight in front of her.

  Her sister was sprawled on the cream carpet beside the bed. Had she fallen? The bed was neatly made, but a half-empty wine glass sat on the nightstand. She must have been so drunk she fell before getting into bed and injured herself badly. The blood . . .

  She needed help. An ambulance. CPR.

  Nina tried to process what was happening, what she needed to do. But deep down she knew Laurel was beyond help. Her skin was mottled, and her face was covered in blood.

  There were dark red stains on the cream carpet. Nina staggered forward and raised her hands to her face. ‘Laurel . . .’

  Oh no. Had she taken her own life? And Nina hadn’t taken her seriously. She’d carried on with that stupid mini-break when her sister . . . Physical pain made her bend over, her arms wrapped tight around her middle.

  Nina looked around for an empty bottle of pills. Maybe she’d downed them with the wine, then – groggy from the alcohol and drugs – fallen and hit her head? But there was no pill bottle.

  ‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t be dead. I’m sorry. I should have come before . . .’

  Nina sank to her knees beside her sister’s body, and the smell caught in the back of her throat. She felt her stomach protest, churn, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t be sick. Not now.

  She must have fallen. That was surely how she’d bloodied her forehead. But then Nina saw the livid red line at the base of Laurel’s throat. Her body stilled as she stared. There was no sign of whatever had been wrapped around her sister’s neck. Which meant this was no suicide.

  She crawled towards the door and used the handle to yank herself up.

  She needed to get to a phone. To call for help. The police. Someone had done this to her sister.

  And that someone could still be here.

  Karen stood over the body. The victim, Laurel Monroe, was twenty-seven years old, slim, with long brown hair. She wore a set of gold rings on her right hand. One was inset with a tiny turquoise stone. A thin gold chain encircled her neck.

  Blood had trickled from her forehead, coating her brown hair at the temples. Now the blood was dry. She wore a thin white T-shirt and grey yoga pants. Casual, dressed for a day at home. There was a bruise on her left forearm, but the injuries that concerned Karen were the bright red line around her throat and the gashes on her forehead.

  ‘Any guesses on how long she’s been dead?’ Karen asked Raj, who had walked to her side.

  ‘A couple of days at least.’

  ‘She looks the same, doesn’t she?’

  ‘You mean the same as Lloyd Nelson?’

  Karen nodded. There had to be a connection between the two victims. Laurel Monroe had been strangled, and her forehead had been mutilated just like Lloyd’s.

  ‘Could she have been killed the same day as Lloyd Nelson?’ Karen asked.

  ‘Hard to say exactly. But yes, I’d guess she died on Saturday, or maybe Sunday.’

  Laurel’s eyes were closed, but her head was tilted in a way that made it look like she was trying to communicate with them.

  Karen looked around the room but saw nothing. No notes. No name written in blood on the floor. Nothing like the movies. Just a vicious, bloody murder.

  ‘Cause of death?’ Karen asked.

  ‘Most likely strangulation,’ Raj said, his face grim. ‘No evidence of sexual assault.’

  ‘And it doesn’t look like a burglary,’ Karen said, pointing to the rings on the victim’s hand. ‘She’s still wearing her jewellery, and there’s cash in the nightstand. First place a burglar would look.’

  The smell of death was overwhelming in the small, hot bedroom. ‘Has anyone managed to turn the heating off?’ Karen asked, addressing the officers searching the room.

  ‘Yes, it’s off,’ said the officer closest to her. ‘Trouble is, the insulation is a bit too good in these new buildings, if you know what I mean. It keeps the heat in, and the smell.’

  ‘DS Hart!’ Karen heard the clipped tones of Churchill’s voice and groaned. She shot an apologetic glance at Raj and walked out of the bedroom.

  Churchill was in the kitchen. ‘Oh, there you are. Leo said you think this murder is related to Lloyd Nelson’s.’

  ‘I’m convinced it is. She’s been strangled, and there’s a cross carved into her forehead.’

  Churchill looked around, his eyes scanning the other people in the room. He leaned towards Karen. ‘Definitely a cross?’

  ‘Yes, and there’s no other carvings or knife marks on her body, just like Lloyd.’

  Churchill swore.

  ‘They haven’t taken Laurel’s body away yet if you want to—’ Karen gestured in the direction of the bedroom.

  Churchill shook his head. ‘The crime scene photographs will be good enough for me. Who found the body?’

  ‘The victim’s sister, Nina Brown. She received a garbled message from Laurel on Friday evening and hadn’t heard from her since. She was worried, so she let herself into the flat today with her spare key.’

  Churchill’s features softened. ‘It must have come as a shock.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve sent her home. I’ll go and talk to her and get a full statement after we finish up here.’

  Churchill’s eyes narrowed. ‘I take it you at least asked her some preliminary questions before sending her home?’

  ‘I did. She has no idea who killed her sister. Said her sister was happy generally, had a good job. No current boyfriend.’

  ‘Found something,’ one of the technicians called from the bedroom.

  Churchill wrinkled his nose at the smell and covered his face with a handkerchief as they entered the room.

  The technician held up his gloved hand, holding a small clear bag of white powder.

  ‘Drugs,’ Churchill said. ‘Maybe she was killed by her dealer? Maybe she hadn’t paid?’

  ‘There’s no evidence Lloyd was on drugs,’ Karen said. ‘Nothing on the tox screen.’

  ‘No, but we didn’t search his house.’

  ‘He was killed in the cathedral, and we didn’t find anything on him.’

  ‘What better place to supply a client with drugs? No cameras. A nice quiet chapel with no witnesses.’ Church
ill shrugged.

  It didn’t make sense. Lloyd had a gambling addiction. There was no evidence he had a drug problem.

  ‘Perhaps this killer is doing what he said in the letter,’ Karen suggested. ‘Cleansing people of their sins. Lloyd was a gambler. Laurel took drugs.’

  Churchill looked around sharply. ‘Don’t talk nonsense.’

  ‘It’s not nonsense. It’s a legitimate theory.’

  Churchill leaned forward so abruptly that Karen flinched. He hissed in her ear. ‘Stop! We’re not in the station now, DS Hart. Walls have ears. We can’t have your theory leaked to the media, understand?’

  Karen stepped back, creating space between them. ‘Understood.’

  Churchill gave her a cold smile. ‘Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Nina Brown lived in a bay-window-fronted terraced house on Horton Street. The street was on a hill, and there was no parking outside and no driveways or gardens. The front doors of the terraced houses opened directly on to the pavement.

  Karen and Leo parked around the corner and then walked up the hill towards Nina’s house.

  ‘It’s had a bit of work done. Windows have been replaced,’ Leo noted as they approached the property.

  A white diesel van passed them, chugging up the road. Karen couldn’t help thinking that even with good windows and sound insulation, the noise from traffic would be constant during the day.

  They knocked on the grey front door.

  Nina answered, looking pale. ‘Come in. Can I get you a drink?’

  Leo and Karen declined the offer as they entered the dark hallway. Nina led them to a square lounge at the front of the property. The door to the kitchen was open, and Karen got a glimpse of the kitchen units, which were a faded yellow colour and old – but everything was spotlessly clean.

  ‘Sorry about the smell,’ Nina said, gesturing around. ‘I think it’s damp. I’ve been on to the landlord, but he hasn’t done anything.’ She sank into an armchair beside the fireplace, which looked to be original but obviously wasn’t used, as there was a display of dried flowers behind the grate.

  Karen could only detect the smell of a floral air freshener and the chlorine scent of bleach.

  ‘Landlords, eh?’ Leo said. ‘Mine is just the same. It takes him forever to do basic maintenance.’

  Nina managed a smile and then gestured at the other chair and sofa, indicating they should sit down.

  Leo took the chair, and Karen sat on the sofa, which had wooden arms and looked like it belonged in a conservatory.

  ‘I’m very sorry we have to trouble you again so soon, Nina,’ Karen said. ‘But it’s important we find out everything we can about your sister, so we have the best possible chance of catching the person responsible.’

  ‘She was murdered then? I suppose I knew that really, but I’ve been trying to convince myself she could have got those injuries on her own,’ Nina said.

  ‘We believe she was strangled,’ Leo said gently. ‘Once we get the post-mortem results we’ll be able to tell you more.’

  There was a noise from the kitchen. A small tabby cat stopped in the doorway, inspecting them, then rushed through the room and disappeared.

  Nina’s cheeks coloured. ‘My cat, Tommy. I’m not supposed to have pets. The house is rented.’

  ‘Shy, is he?’ Leo asked.

  ‘A bit, with people he doesn’t know.’

  Leo chuckled. ‘He was probably quite annoyed to find us in his living room.’

  Nina managed a smile.

  Leo leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. ‘We need to ask you some sensitive questions. Do you feel up to answering them?’

  ‘You want to know if I can think of anyone who would want to hurt Laurel . . . And I’ve been racking my brains, but I can’t think of anyone.’

  ‘She didn’t have any new relationships, or a relationship that ended recently?’ Leo asked.

  ‘No.’ Nina looked at Karen. ‘I told DS Hart earlier. As far as I know, Laurel wasn’t in a relationship with anyone at the moment, and none of her previous boyfriends had been violent or threatening.’

  She smoothed her hand along her cream-coloured trousers, methodically pressing out the creases. ‘I just can’t believe it’s happened. I should have come sooner. I should have checked out of the hotel on Friday when she left the message. Maybe I could have done something to stop it happening.’ She looked up. ‘Do you know when she died? Was it on Friday?’

  ‘We’re not sure. The post-mortem will give us a better idea,’ Karen said. ‘But we believe she had been dead for a couple of days before you found her.’

  Nina wrapped her arms around herself. Her lower lip trembled. ‘I was away when she needed me. I was staying in Norfolk, and I didn’t want to leave.’ She shook her head and closed her eyes. ‘But I wish I had.’

  ‘Can you tell us more about the answerphone message?’ Karen said. She’d asked about it when she’d first spoken to Nina, but the woman had said her battery was flat.

  ‘Oh, right, yes. I put my phone on charge. You can listen to it if you want?’

  ‘That would be very helpful, thank you.’

  Nina disappeared from the lounge, and they heard her footsteps on the stairs.

  Leo and Karen didn’t speak until she returned.

  ‘Here it is.’ Nina entered the room, looking down at her mobile phone. She tapped on the screen a couple of times and then held it out for Karen. ‘You press 1 to hear the message again.’

  Karen took the phone from her. ‘Thank you.’

  She listened carefully to Laurel’s shaky voice. It was an odd sensation to be hearing Laurel talk on what could have been her final day alive.

  ‘Nina, I need your help. I’ve done something really stupid. Really, really stupid this time, and I don’t know what to do.’ She broke off and sobbed. Then her voice came back, quieter. ‘No, that’s not true. I do know what I have to do, but I don’t want to. I’m scared, Nina. Please pick up.’ Laurel didn’t say anything else for a long time, but Karen could hear her ragged breathing on the recording. Then finally she said, ‘I think I’ve made a decision. I know what I have to do, but I need to talk to you about it. I need to talk to someone. I can’t do this on my own. Nina, please. Call me back as soon as you can.’

  That was the end of the message.

  Karen lowered the phone. ‘Thank you for letting me listen, Nina. Is it okay if DC Clinton listens now, too?’

  She nodded, and Karen handed Leo the phone.

  ‘When did you listen to the message?’

  ‘Friday evening.’

  ‘Did you call her back?’

  ‘Not right away. You must think I’m an awful person,’ Nina whispered, shaking her head. ‘You’re thinking how could she hear that message and not rush to her sister’s side? I get it. But you don’t know what she was like. It wasn’t the first time I got a message like that. After she lost her last job, I had panicked phone calls and messages day and night, expecting me to drop everything and help her.’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘I sound like such a complete cow.’

  Karen said nothing, and waited for Nina to continue. When she didn’t, Karen said, ‘No one is judging you, Nina.’

  The woman took a shaky breath and pressed her palms flat on the arms of her chair. ‘The thing is, I had no idea it was so serious. If I’d known her life was in danger, of course I would have rushed back, checked she was okay.’

  ‘Did your sister often have crises in her personal life?’

  ‘Yes, but she was never in danger like this. She’d done something wrong at her previous job, not that she’d admit it. I’m not even sure what she did. She wasn’t prosecuted, but they let her go. If you listened to Laurel describe what happened . . .’ Nina shrugged. ‘She made it sound like the world was out to get her.

  ‘I always tried to help. But in many ways, she was far more successful than me. I mean, she still had money. She practically fell into t
he next job and was only unemployed for a few weeks. Her previous employer gave her a great reference despite the falling-out. But with Laurel, there was always drama. Sometimes I just wanted to look out for me for a change. To put myself first.’ She pushed her hair back from her face and took a deep breath. ‘Things haven’t been going too well for me. I’d gone to Norfolk with Terry to try to patch things up and make a go of our relationship. I didn’t feel like I could just leave him at the hotel and go running after Laurel.’

  ‘That’s understandable. Laurel’s death wasn’t your fault,’ Leo said, lowering the phone from his ear.

  ‘I could have done more.’

  ‘You didn’t know.’ Leo’s voice was low but firm.

  Nina started to cry.

  ‘Can we call anyone for you?’ Karen asked. ‘A relative or a friend?’

  She sniffed. ‘No, thank you. I’m fine.’

  Leo handed the phone back to Nina. ‘With your permission, we’d like to take a copy of the message.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Nina leaned back in her chair, wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned her head to stare at the flowers in the grate.

  ‘We need to ask a couple of difficult questions now, Nina,’ Karen said.

  Nina twisted back around to face them. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Did Laurel take drugs?’

  Nina’s cheeks flushed, and she hesitated before replying. ‘You mean illegal drugs . . . ?’

  Karen nodded.

  ‘She had done in the past. Cocaine. I think it started when she was working in London. She told me everyone was doing it.’ Nina’s gaze slid between Karen and Leo. ‘Do you think her death was down to a drug habit? A dealer or . . . ?’ Nina broke off, staring at Leo.

  ‘It’s early days, Nina,’ Leo said. ‘We don’t know anything for sure yet, but that’s certainly something we’re looking into.’

  ‘As far as I know, she wasn’t taking anything now. Maybe this was someone from the past – her old job?’

  ‘Do you think her drug habit could be why she lost her previous job?’ Karen asked.