House of Lies (Detective Karen Hart) Page 16

  Ethan’s cheeks flushed, but he shook his head and kept up the denial. ‘I don’t know what you’re going on about.’

  ‘You said you couldn’t hear it. Either you’re very hard of hearing or you’re a liar. Give me your phone.’

  Ethan looked up and his jaw dropped. Did he really believe they wouldn’t have found him out? That he’d get away with this in a house full of detectives?

  Sometimes the arrogance of teenagers – or was it naivety – was staggering.

  Karen held out her hand. ‘Phone please, now.’

  Grumbling under his breath, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and passed the phone to Karen.

  She gritted her teeth and gave it back to him. ‘Unlock it.’

  With a scowl, he did so. Then he handed it to Karen.

  She located the voice recording app. There were only two saved recordings. The first one was Ethan doing a terrible rendition of a recent pop song. His cheeks turned even redder. The second recording was the one Karen was looking for. The whispers and the sound of dripping water.

  ‘You couldn’t hear it?’ Karen raised an eyebrow.

  ‘It was just a joke.’ He sank lower in the chair.

  ‘Who is this? It sounds like a female voice.’

  ‘I don’t know. I recorded it from some TV show,’ he said. ‘I was just trying to lighten the mood. It was just a joke. We’d all been talking about the Drowned Lady and I thought it would be a laugh.’

  ‘It’s not the time or place for jokes, Ethan. Were you playing this so Miss King could hear?’

  He looked down at his lap and then nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Is it your fault she fell from the roof?’

  ‘How could it be my fault? It’s just a recording of a dripping tap mixed with a voice whispering,’ Ethan said. ‘Talk about overreacting.’

  ‘No, Ethan. I’m not overreacting. You don’t seem to realise the seriousness of the situation. Natasha is still missing, and you were one of the last people to see her. That’s serious. And now you’re messing about with recordings, sneaking around, trying to scare people. And you’ve been taking drugs. It’s almost as though you’re trying to implicate yourself in Natasha’s disappearance, trying to get us to focus on you as a suspect.’

  Ethan paled. ‘I’m a suspect?’

  ‘Just because your father is the chief constable doesn’t mean we’re going to ignore the things you’ve done wrong here. We won’t simply look the other way. You understand that, don’t you?’

  ‘Please don’t tell my father,’ he said.

  ‘If you’ve done something wrong, Ethan, you need to take responsibility for it.’

  The kid looked horrified at the idea. Did he think he was untouchable? That he was safe no matter what he got up to because of who his father was? The chance of a huge push forward on the corruption case was evaporating. Everything she’d hoped for was slipping through her fingers, thanks to a spoiled kid who couldn’t see the damage he’d done. The chief constable wouldn’t want to help her after this. But she couldn’t ignore Ethan’s actions. Her conscience wouldn’t allow it. He’d said it was a joke, but could she believe that?

  Would he ever take responsibility for anything if his father covered up his mistakes?

  ‘I am going to have to tell your father about this. Not only because you coming back here makes you look guilty, but also the fact that you’re wasting police time. You could be charged for that alone.’

  He shifted awkwardly in his chair. ‘Look, I’m sorry, all right? I’ll leave.’

  He still didn’t get it. He thought Karen was being unreasonable. He didn’t think of anyone but himself.

  ‘Just give me the key and go, Ethan,’ Karen said.

  ‘And you’re not going to mention it to my dad, right?’

  ‘I am,’ Karen said, unable to believe the audacity of the kid. ‘I’ll speak to him later today, so you’d better be waiting for him at home because you’re supposed to be grounded.’

  To Karen’s surprise Ethan handed her two keys.

  ‘What’s the other key for?’

  He shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Can I go now?’

  Karen nodded and stared after him as he sloped off, taking her hopes of a successful investigation into the depths of Freeman’s corruption with him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Clutching both keys, Karen grabbed a pair of gloves and headed upstairs to solve the mystery. The larger key looked modern and very similar to the ones used for all the other rooms, but the smaller key was more delicate and well worn. It looked older.

  She entered the girls’ bathroom, pulled on the gloves and looked at the large bathroom cabinet. The keyhole was small. Promising. Karen smiled as the smaller key slid into the lock and turned easily. One mystery solved.

  Stacks of towels and neatly arranged soap sat on the shelves. Nothing very exciting. She felt around the cupboard walls and used her phone to illuminate the wood to make sure she wasn’t missing anything. But she found nothing out of the ordinary.

  Finally, Karen made it back to the parlour.

  ‘I’m really sorry to keep you waiting,’ she said to the Blakes. ‘How are you feeling now, Cressida?’

  The young woman looked up. She looked much brighter today, but nervous. ‘All right, thanks. I just want to help get Natasha back.’

  Karen smiled and sank down into the armchair opposite Cressida.

  ‘I’m not sure what the point of this is,’ Ryan Blake said, gesturing around him. ‘I don’t think coming back here is a good idea. Cressida can’t remember anything, and this is just upsetting for her.’

  ‘I think it’s very brave to come back,’ Karen said. ‘I know it must be very difficult for you.’ She looked directly at Cressida. ‘I was going to ask Lydia to show you some pictures this morning, but since you’re here, I can show you now. We have some CCTV footage of Natasha on Monday evening.’

  ‘Monday?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘But she went missing on Thursday,’ Jasmine added.

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Karen said, ‘but she was having dinner in Harmston on Monday evening, with a man we want to identify. We’d like you to take a look at the images and see if you can recognise him.’

  Cressida blinked. ‘I . . . I didn’t know she’d gone out on Monday.’

  ‘It was about seven thirty,’ Karen said. ‘She went to the new Italian restaurant in Harmston. Could you have a look?’ She opened the images on her phone and held it out for Cressida to see.

  The young woman moved forward, elbows resting on her knees, hands clutched together, her face pensive.

  As she flicked through the images, her father got up and stood by her side. They both looked down at Karen’s phone.

  ‘You can’t really see very much of him,’ Cressida said as she made her way through the collection of images.

  ‘No,’ Karen said. ‘It was a bad camera angle.’

  ‘This is from inside the restaurant,’ Ryan Blake said. ‘Is there a better view of them from the street, entering or leaving?’

  ‘Unfortunately not,’ Karen said. ‘The restaurant owner didn’t keep a copy of the security camera footage from the entrance. He didn’t realise it would be important.’

  ‘But he kept a copy of the recording from inside the restaurant – why?’ Ryan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  ‘It’s on a different network. The outside security system only keeps the last forty-eight hours because the owner has to pay more if he wants to keep the recordings longer.’

  ‘Oh, that’s such a shame,’ Jasmine said. ‘Could I have a look?’ She held out her hand for the phone, and Cressida passed it to her.

  Jasmine went through the pictures in silence, then gave the phone back to Karen. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have any idea who it is.’

  ‘It’s not the best picture. I thought Natasha might have told you who she was meeting on Monday evening.’ Karen watched Cressida carefully. But the young woman maintained eye contact and didn’t appear t
o be hiding anything.

  ‘No. I’m sorry, Natasha didn’t tell me anything about it. I spent Monday evening with some of the other students. We were outside, sitting on the terrace. It was freezing, but we had fun out there, chatting and joking around. But you’re right, Natasha wasn’t with us. She’d told me she was going to stay in her room and study.’

  ‘Did you think that was unusual?’

  ‘Maybe a bit, but she does work hard. She’s a very good student. Her mother wants her to get top marks for her A levels this year, so she’s under a lot of pressure,’ Cressida said, plucking a piece of fluff from her skirt. ‘They’re pretty hard on her, I think.’

  ‘You didn’t go into Harmston on Monday evening?’

  Jasmine cut in. ‘No, we were both at home on Monday evening when Cressida called us, weren’t we, darling?’ She looked at her husband, who nodded.

  ‘Sorry, I meant Cressida.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Of course.’ Jasmine put a hand up in apology.

  Karen turned her attention back to Cressida. ‘So you weren’t in Harmston on Monday and have no idea who this man is? Natasha didn’t mention seeing someone, a boyfriend?’

  Cressida shook her head. ‘No, not to me. I didn’t think she was seeing anyone. She had a bit of a crush on the gardener.’

  ‘The groundsman? Mike Harrington?’ Karen asked. Perhaps that wasn’t surprising. He was handsome in a rugged, moody way. He’d be more appealing to a teenage girl than a lad her own age, and certainly more attractive than Doyle or Lord Chidlow.

  Cressida nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right. Maybe now we should focus on anything you can remember from Thursday night.’

  Cressida gripped the edge of a cushion. ‘I’m really sorry, but I don’t think I can. I remember us getting ready to go out. I went to Natasha’s room, and she was waiting for me. She got her coat . . .’ Cressida’s voice trembled. ‘And then we . . . I think we went downstairs, but that’s all a bit blurry now. I can’t remember anything after that. It’s all just nothingness.’ She pressed a hand to her forehead.

  Her mother rubbed her shoulder. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart.’

  ‘Did you discuss your plans for the evening earlier in the day?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I think we mentioned going to the pub, but I can’t remember going there. I can’t remember going anywhere.’ Cressida’s breathing quickened and her cheeks flushed. She was starting to get distressed.

  ‘Okay. There’s one more thing I wanted to ask you, and that’s about last night, when you were leaving Chidlow House to go to the police station. You had a very strong reaction to something as we were walking to the car.’

  Cressida nodded slowly.

  ‘Do you know why?’

  The young woman licked her lips and looked at Karen blankly, eyes wide.

  ‘You walked down the steps towards the car. Was it something about the vehicle that made you panic?’

  Cressida shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘The dog barking?’

  Cressida pushed her light blonde hair out of her eyes with a trembling hand.

  ‘The light was on in one of the rooms in the house.’

  Cressida stiffened.

  ‘Did you see someone? Was that what upset you?’

  She let out a sob.

  ‘All right. No more,’ Ryan Blake said. ‘She’s obviously very distressed now.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Cressida said tearfully. ‘I don’t know why I reacted like that, but I suddenly felt really scared and my heart was beating too fast. I couldn’t breathe.’

  ‘It was probably a panic attack, darling,’ Jasmine said, wrapping her arm around her daughter and giving her a squeeze. ‘We’ve booked Cressida an appointment with a psychologist this afternoon, to help her get over this trauma.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ Karen said.

  ‘Well, I think that’s enough now. Come on.’ Ryan Blake stood up and held out his hand before helping his daughter to her feet.

  As the Blake family were leaving the room, Cressida turned and said, ‘I’m really sorry I can’t help.’

  ‘You’re doing your best,’ Karen said. ‘I know this is really difficult.’

  When Cressida and her parents had left the room, Karen looked out of the window. It wasn’t raining anymore, but the wind had picked up, sending yellow and gold leaves twirling over the patio.

  The grey October sky was heavy with threatened showers. In the distance, the trees shook violently. Karen let out a frustrated sigh. She’d been holding out hope that Cressida would have remembered something today, something that could have led them to Natasha. There was still a slim chance they’d find her, but time was running out.

  Morgan stared across the table at Mike Harrington.

  There were piles of paperwork neatly stacked on the desk. Morgan had cleared an area for his own notes. He kept Harrington waiting for a few minutes, noticing how the man fidgeted. He clearly didn’t like sitting still.

  The dog was happy enough by the fire.

  ‘How long have you worked here?’ he asked Harrington.

  ‘Isn’t that in the file?’ The groundskeeper nodded at the foolscap folder on the desk.

  Morgan didn’t respond, but waited patiently for an answer.

  ‘Two years,’ Harrington said.

  ‘And before that?’

  Harrington’s mouth twisted in a grim smile. ‘Why are we playing this game? You know what I did before.’

  ‘I’d like you to tell me,’ Morgan said.

  ‘I had a “career break”.’ He made quote marks with his fingers. ‘For eighteen months, before I started working here, I did nothing. Before that I worked for the Lincolnshire Police as a dog handler.’

  ‘And Sandy was your dog?’ Morgan nodded at the sleeping English Springer Spaniel.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You left the force early. Any reason for that?’

  ‘I was sick of it,’ he said. ‘There didn’t seem to be any point anymore.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Well, you have to admit it gets tiring seeing the bad side of life all the time. Depressing.’

  ‘It’s not easy at times,’ Morgan replied.

  ‘That’s the understatement of the year,’ Harrington said under his breath.

  ‘You suffered a personal loss around the time you left the police service.’

  Harrington’s features tightened. ‘I did,’ he agreed, but didn’t elaborate.

  ‘Your son died.’

  Harrington’s hands tightened on the armrests of the chair. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ Morgan said. ‘It must have been incredibly difficult.’

  ‘It was. It is,’ the groundskeeper said, clarifying. ‘I almost didn’t get through it.’

  ‘Do you mind me asking what happened to your leg?’ Morgan looked at Harrington’s stick, which rested against the side of the armchair.

  ‘I’m sure you could find out if you wanted to.’

  ‘I’m sure I could, but I’m asking you.’

  Harrington stared down at the floor for a moment, then sighed. ‘I was in a pretty dark place when my son died. One night I’d had too much to drink and decided I’d had enough. I got in my car, drove it straight at a wall. I woke up in hospital with both legs broken. This one,’ he tapped his left leg, ‘came off worse. Needed metal plates and screws.’

  Morgan waited a beat and then said, ‘We’re going to have to search your cottage.’

  ‘Fine,’ Harrington said. ‘I don’t have anything to hide.’

  ‘Good,’ Morgan said, making a note. ‘Did you see Natasha Layton and Cressida Blake while they were staying at Chidlow House?’

  ‘I saw them around.’

  ‘On how many occasions?’

  ‘I really don’t remember. It may have been more than once, but I couldn’t say for sure. I remember seeing them near the start of the week with a group of other kids. They were laughing and
joking. The lads were leaning back against the wall near Chidlow’s study, trying to look tough, smoking spliffs and then trying to hide them when I walked past,’ he said, rolling his eyes.

  ‘You didn’t report it to Doyle or Chidlow though?’

  ‘Why should I? For all I knew, they were complicit. These kids aren’t normal. Their parents are beyond wealthy and influential. They live by a different set of rules to everyone else.’

  ‘They might think they do, Mr Harrington,’ Morgan said, ‘but if I have anything to do with it, they’ll be held accountable to the law.’ Harrington didn’t look impressed. ‘So when you saw the students, they were always outside? You never saw them in the house?’

  ‘No. I’m hardly ever in the house. The place was full of teenagers this week. That’s not my idea of fun, so I’d been making myself even more scarce than usual.’

  ‘Did you hear anything on Thursday night? Any noises?’

  ‘What sort of noises?’

  ‘Screams, shouts, people talking. See any lights? Anything at all?’ Morgan asked.

  ‘No, I didn’t hear anyone. You think they were by the lake?’

  ‘Possibly,’ Morgan said.

  ‘I thought DS Hart was going to be interviewing me,’ he said after Morgan thanked him for his time.

  ‘She was, but she had to do something else this morning.’

  Harrington stood up, called Sandy to his side, then turned and said over his shoulder, ‘She’s lost someone too, hasn’t she?’

  Morgan looked up.

  ‘DS Hart, I mean,’ Harrington continued. ‘I can tell. She’s got that look.’

  Morgan said nothing, and Harrington turned to leave.

  Then he paused again, this time with his hand on the door, and said, ‘I hope the student turns up. I know people look on me as odd, but I’m not a monster. I can’t imagine what her parents are going through.’

  ‘I would have thought you could,’ Morgan said, ‘after what happened to your son.’

  ‘It was different in my case. There was no waiting, wondering or hoping. Nathan died by drowning,’ he said, but he wasn’t looking at Morgan. He was staring out the window. ‘We were visiting friends. They had a swimming pool – it was all fenced off. Everything should have been safe. The gate was locked. But Nathan liked climbing things, you see. And he scaled the fence and went into the pool. I found him, face down in the water.’