On Cold Ground (Detective Karen Hart) Page 17

  ‘I’m doing some private training, just down the road. A new dog, severe behavioural problems.’

  ‘Sounds like a challenge.’

  ‘They’re always the most rewarding.’ He smiled. ‘Still on for dinner tonight?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I wouldn’t be the best company, to be honest.’

  ‘I’m a good listener.’

  ‘Maybe later in the week?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘There aren’t any other surprises in here, are there?’ Karen asked, lifting the paper bag.

  Mike’s forehead creased in confusion. ‘Like what?’

  ‘I half expected you to have hidden a leaflet about that grief counselling group behind the chocolate twist.’

  He smiled, shaking his head. ‘I’m not that devious. If you don’t want to go, that’s fine. I’ll not mention it again.’ He made a zipping motion across his mouth. ‘I’d better not keep my new client waiting.’ He handed Karen the coffee and turned to leave.

  She watched him exit the building and walk across the car park.

  She could finish at a reasonable time this evening, have dinner with Mike, have a social life for once. But she wouldn’t. Not with this case hanging over her head. She sipped the coffee and smiled at his thoughtfulness. Surprises weren’t always a bad thing. She might not meet him for dinner tonight, but she’d make it up to him later.

  She turned back to the desk sergeant. ‘There haven’t been any deliveries for me, have there?’

  He lifted his eyebrows. ‘Nothing this morning.’ He looked under the desk. ‘Doesn’t look like anything was stashed under here yesterday. It could have been taken to the post room. What are you expecting?’

  ‘A new mobile. Mine’s gone on the blink. It was supposed to be here yesterday.’

  He spread his hands. ‘As far as I know, it hasn’t arrived. I’ll keep an eye out for it.’

  ‘Cheers, Todd.’

  On her way back to the office, Karen popped into the post room, but there was no sign of her new phone there either. She spotted PC Ray Watts at the end of the corridor, raised a hand and was about to say hello, but he blanked her. He seemed lost in thought, and he yanked the door to the stairwell open and disappeared.

  Karen guessed she was no longer flavour of the month. What was the point in getting career advice from a detective sergeant when he could get it from a detective chief inspector? She’d been trumped by Churchill. She thought back to that odd exchange after the corruption meeting. She still felt uneasy about finding PC Watts lingering so close to the meeting room, when he had no real reason to be on that floor of the station. And Churchill had denied knowing who Watts was.

  Arnie was at his desk, and when Karen walked past, he gave a dramatic groan. ‘Save me.’

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘This CCTV.’ He waved a hand at the computer screen. ‘It’s sending me to sleep. And it’s making my eyes go funny.’

  Karen looked at the footage on the screen. ‘This is the outside of Laurel’s apartment building?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve watched hours and hours of it already.’ He pulled a face. ‘Tracked down the jogger the sister said let her into the apartment building. He’s in the clear. Lives in the building but was staying in Leicester with his girlfriend when we believe the murder took place.’

  ‘Anything else suspicious so far?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Arnie said, throwing up his hands dramatically. ‘The only thing I’ve got from the recordings is a headache!’

  Karen frowned at him. ‘Maybe you need glasses?’

  Arnie grunted. ‘Maybe I need a break.’ He paused, cocked his head. ‘I don’t suppose you’d take over for a few minutes? I missed breakfast, and there’s a sausage sandwich in the canteen with my name on it.’

  ‘Go on then.’ Karen sat in Arnie’s still-warm seat after he leapt up and swaggered off, whistling.

  ‘You walked into that one, Sarge.’ Rick was laughing. ‘He won’t be back for ages.’

  Karen angled the screen so she could see better. ‘I’m sure you have work to do, Rick.’

  Rick lowered his head, still chuckling.

  Sparrow finished eating and dabbed his mouth with a napkin before glancing around the canteen. He was hiding in plain sight; no one bothered to look his way. Everything was coming together. Morgan was off the case and the team was divided. That should have put a smile on the boss’s face, but Sparrow couldn’t do a thing right in his eyes. He’d taken a call from Eagle earlier, who’d been spitting with rage. That was satisfying. Sparrow enjoyed getting under his skin, especially when Eagle knew he couldn’t do anything to stop him – not yet, anyway. Sparrow held some power now, and that made a welcome change.

  Sparrow stood and carried his tray over to the rack. There would come a time in the future when he would have to watch his back. Eagle was not someone you could upset and expect to get away with it or escape pushback. For now, Sparrow was safe, but that wouldn’t last.

  It didn’t matter, though, because he had another plan.

  Rick was right. Arnie took forever to get back from the canteen and then spluttered excuses. ‘It’s not my fault, DCI Churchill collared me, asked me to do a job for him.’

  ‘Really? What was that?’ Karen pressed pause on the video and rubbed her eyes. Maybe she was the one who needed glasses.

  Arnie tapped the side of his nose. ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to—’

  ‘Yeah, very good. Well, you can take over now you’re back.’ She stood up. ‘Any news on Laurel Monroe’s computer yet?’

  Arnie took his seat. ‘Not as far as I know. I do know they’re analysing her phone too. Might take a while.’

  Karen stretched her arms over her head. Sitting hunched over in front of the computer screen had given her an ache between her shoulder blades. ‘We could use some more comfortable chairs,’ Karen said, thinking of the fancy padded chairs they had in the meeting room upstairs, reserved for the top brass.

  Arnie turned, watched her stretch out the kink in her neck. ‘You think you ache now. Wait until you get to my age.’

  ‘Think I’ll go and talk to Harinder. He might be able to give us preliminary findings on Laurel’s phone and computer.’

  ‘I can do that.’ Sophie’s head appeared over the top of her monitor. ‘I’m free. I’ll go now.’

  ‘Ha! You sound a bit keen,’ Arnie said, and Sophie’s cheeks burned.

  ‘All right,’ Karen said, walking over to Sophie’s desk. ‘Ask him if they’ve uncovered any communications between Lloyd Nelson and Laurel Monroe, and if there’s any evidence Laurel worked as a sex-cam girl.’

  ‘If the evidence is there, Harinder will find it,’ Sophie said confidently.

  ‘Yes, but I’m wondering if the evidence exists.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sophie tucked her curly hair behind her ears.

  ‘The allegations against Lloyd – violence towards his wife, embezzlement – have turned out to be dead ends so far. I’m wondering if we’ll find the same is true of the allegations against Laurel.’

  ‘You think the sex-cam stuff is made up?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘But why?’

  Karen shrugged. ‘Smoke and mirrors. A distraction. An attempt to lead us away from the real motive behind their murders.’

  Sophie’s eyes widened. ‘What was the real motive?’

  Karen said, ‘That’s what we still need to find out.’

  Sophie hurried down to the technical department. Many of the forensic tests were now carried out off-site, and some more unusual work was contracted out to private companies, but they relied on Harinder to analyse the results.

  They really would be lost without him; he seemed to know everything about everything. Sophie admired his intelligence, but his best trait was his ability to explain things to his colleagues in plain English and not make them feel like fools.

  She knocked on the half-open door and poked her head into the lab.

 
; Harinder turned, spinning on his wheeled chair to face her. ‘Sophie, what brings you down here?’

  He was smiling. He did look pleased to see her, which gave her confidence a boost.

  ‘Karen asked me to come down and see if you have anything for us on Laurel Monroe’s computer yet. I know, the team haven’t had it long, and I don’t mean to put extra pressure on you. I’m sure you’re very busy, but . . .’ She hesitated. ‘Well, we don’t have much else to go on.’

  Harinder wheeled over another chair. ‘Have a seat.’

  Sophie sat beside him and watched the scrolling data on his screen for a moment, mesmerised.

  ‘It’s just running a search.’ Harinder ran a hand through his dark hair. ‘I wish I could give you better news, but we’ve not found anything that would interest you yet.’

  ‘Oh, so there’s nothing to indicate that Laurel worked as a . . .’ She swallowed. Her cheeks felt hot. Just say it, Sophie. Don’t be ridiculous. This is your job. Be professional. ‘A . . . er . . . sex-cam worker?’

  ‘Nothing yet. Is it possible she had another computer?’

  Sophie sighed. ‘We haven’t found one.’

  ‘There’s no videos stored on the laptop or her phone,’ Harinder continued. ‘Nothing in her browser history to suggest she visited sites that host the online stripper videos, or that she uploaded files.’

  ‘Karen thought the allegations could be false.’

  ‘Well, I can’t say that for sure. Some more entrepreneurial online sex-cam workers take payments through websites they own and maintain themselves. But I can’t find any evidence she visited any such site on her computer either. Sorry, Sophie.’

  Sophie stood up with a sigh. ‘Thanks for trying, Harry.’

  ‘No problem.’

  When she reached the doorway, she hesitated, tucked her hair behind her ears and turned back. ‘Um, Harry, I just wondered . . . I mean . . . I hoped . . . What I wanted to ask is . . . would you be free for a drink sometime?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  At eight thirty, the office was quiet. Karen yawned and stretched. She’d been going through video footage, files and witness statements for hours, and her eyes were sore. Depressingly, she hadn’t made much progress. There had been no breakthroughs, no links.

  Morgan was still in his office, but the others had left. Rick needed to get home because his mother’s carer left at six, and his sister was unable to help tonight. Sophie had left the station an hour ago to go for a drink with Harinder, after shrugging off some good-natured teasing from Arnie and Rick. Karen smiled. Sophie had been buzzing with energy and glowing with happiness.

  Arnie and Leo had disappeared too, and she hadn’t seen DCI Churchill for hours.

  She needed a change of scenery. Perhaps fresh air would get her brain working. She grabbed her bag and coat and told Morgan she’d see him later.

  The air outside was so cold it took her breath away. She clutched her coat closed and jogged over to her car. The drive to Lincoln Cathedral took her ten minutes. She parked uphill and walked the short distance to the cathedral’s west front.

  People were filing out through the large door below the Gallery of Kings. A service must have just finished, Karen thought as she walked against the tide, entered the building and looked up at the vaulted ceilings. A group of choir boys and girls stood to one side, dressed in formal white choral robes, talking excitedly.

  Karen looked around furtively. She didn’t want to run into Eunice and give the woman a chance to bring up the counselling group again. The thought of talking through her feelings with strangers made her skin crawl. Thankfully, there was no sign of Eunice.

  Karen meandered, taking in the beautifully carved stonework, the elegant columns and hidden alcoves. Had the scene been important to the killer? Or had they simply taken advantage of the fact Lloyd had been here and alone in the Morning Chapel. Cleansed of sin. That certainly suggested a religious significance. Though Laurel had been killed at home, she lived alone, unlike Lloyd . . .

  Karen turned in a slow circle, looking up at the galleried area and then across at the huge stained-glass rose window.

  It was cold in the cathedral, but much more comfortable than being outside in the biting wind.

  She carried on walking as she thought over the details of the case, then paused beside a pillar. She’d brought her daughter here a short time before Tilly died, and had pointed out the mischievous Lincoln Imp. The cross-legged stone grotesque looked down at Karen, a taunting grin on its face.

  According to the legend, two mischievous imps were creating havoc in the cathedral when an angel threatened to turn them to stone. When one of the pair carried on misbehaving, the angel did so, and since that day the imp had looked over Lincoln Cathedral. The carving was centuries old.

  Karen turned away from the memory and continued to walk. She headed back towards the huge west door and hesitated at the opening to the Morning Chapel. There was no sign any crime had been committed. The crime scene tape had been removed.

  She entered the chapel, and it was like stepping back in time. She imagined the chapel looked much the same as it had five hundred years ago. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out some change. After dropping some coins into the collection pot, she selected a candle.

  For Josh and Tilly.

  She watched it burn brightly in the sandbox for a few minutes, alongside candles others had lit. If only . . .

  She turned away, looked up at the high ceiling. There was no point thinking that way. The past couldn’t be changed.

  She sat in the nearest pew and closed her eyes. They just needed a break in the case, just a link – even a small one would help.

  Minutes passed. Karen was lost in thought. Then the skin on the back of her neck prickled. She was the only one in the chapel, but she felt the definite sensation of being watched. Her eyes snapped open, but she didn’t turn.

  Her scalp tightened, and a frisson of fear rippled along her spine.

  Someone was behind her.

  She stood and turned in one smooth movement. Behind her stood PC Ray Watts.

  He wore a scarf and a hat, so most of his face was hidden, but he was easy enough to recognise.

  Karen couldn’t hear anyone close by. There had to be other people around. The cathedral hadn’t been closed for the night yet.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Karen asked, looking over his shoulder towards the exit.

  ‘Sorry, I thought I recognised you. I attended the service and spotted you as I was leaving, so I followed you in here.’

  ‘Right.’

  He put his hands up. ‘That sounded creepy. I was only going to say hello, but when I saw you light a candle then sit there with your eyes closed.’ He gestured at the pew where Karen had been sitting. ‘I thought you were praying and didn’t want to disturb you.’

  Karen moved towards the exit. ‘How was the service?’

  ‘Great. I don’t come often, but Christmas time is special.’

  He stepped aside for her, and Karen managed a smile. This case had her on edge, and seeing him lingering close by after the corruption briefing update had made her wary.

  She was overreacting. It was PC Ray Watts, a fresh-faced enthusiastic young constable who was probably about as much of a threat as Sophie, who didn’t even like killing flies.

  They walked out together, heading towards the Magna Carta. ‘I’ve got my car. Do you need a lift?’ Karen asked.

  ‘No, I’m all right on the bus, thanks. Going to grab a bite to eat first. Don’t suppose you fancy . . . ?’

  Karen shook her head. ‘No, I’ve got stuff to do tonight.’

  She didn’t. She had nothing planned but sitting with a glass of wine and going over and over the case in her mind.

  Although . . . it would take her less than two minutes to walk to Mike’s apartment from here. It was a tempting idea.

  Her mobile vibrated in her coat pocket. She pulled it out as they walked over the slippery cobblestones.
A voice message had been left on the answering service, but when she tried to tap the phone screen, it was unresponsive.

  ‘I don’t believe this.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Ray craned his neck to look.

  ‘My phone keeps playing up.’

  ‘It is a bit old.’

  Karen gave him a pointed look. He sounded just like Sophie. ‘I’ve ordered a new one, but it hasn’t arrived yet. I’ve got an answerphone message but can’t access it.’

  ‘Don’t you have a number you can dial from another phone to get your messages?’

  Karen smiled. He was right. She did, though she hadn’t used it for a while.

  He offered his phone. ‘Use mine.’

  She dialled the messaging service, then took a step away from Ray. She was expecting the message to be from Morgan, telling her he was heading home and asking if she wanted dinner, but it wasn’t. It was Anthony.

  He sounded tense.

  ‘Karen, can you give me a ring when you get this message? I really need to talk to you. It’s about . . . Well, it concerns the matter we discussed on Monday. It’s important. Call me.’

  Karen turned to Ray, who was looking at the pub menu outside the Magna Carta. ‘Can I make another call? I’ll be quick.’

  ‘Sure.’

  She dialled Anthony’s mobile number, but he didn’t answer. The phone rang and rang. She tried again, but the same thing happened. She couldn’t remember his landline number, and thanks to her stupid phone, she couldn’t look it up in her contacts list either.

  Her chest felt tight. Anthony had sounded worried. Concerns the matter we discussed on Monday.

  What matter? They’d talked about Mike, Morgan, Christmas . . . and Churchill. Karen tightened her grip on the phone. Had Anthony uncovered some dirt on Churchill? He had lots of connections from his many years on the force.

  She gave Ray back his phone. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Any time.’ He waved as Karen walked off, but she didn’t look back.

  It took Karen less than ten minutes to reach her old boss’s bungalow in Canwick. She parked up on the drive and was relieved to see the lights were on. Montagu Road was quiet and dark, and there was only one street light visible from Anthony’s property.