On Cold Ground (Detective Karen Hart) Page 3

  ‘Surprised to see you here,’ Morgan said to Mike.

  ‘Karen asked me to stand on the door and make sure no new visitors came in.’

  ‘Right,’ Morgan said. ‘Well, we’ll handle it now, thanks. I’ll put a uniform on the door.’

  Mike glanced at Karen.

  ‘Thanks, Mike,’ she said. ‘I’ll give you a call later?’

  Mike gave a sharp nod and turned away, striding past the safety barriers – put up while the restoration work was ongoing – and heading in the direction of his apartment as the snow drifted down.

  ‘So, what have we got?’ Morgan asked, bringing her back to the scene.

  ‘A body in the Morning Chapel,’ Karen said. ‘Male, mid-forties. Lloyd Nelson. He has marks on his neck consistent with strangulation. Raj is in there with him now.’

  ‘Strangulation or hanging?’ Morgan asked, clearly thinking along the same lines as Karen when she’d first seen the body.

  ‘My money would be on strangulation,’ Karen said. ‘There was no cord above him to indicate he tried to hang himself. Plus, there are markings on his forehead. It looks like he has a symbol carved into his skin.’

  Morgan’s eyes widened slightly. ‘A symbol?’

  ‘I think so,’ Karen said. ‘It looks like a cross to me, but it’s hard to tell with all the blood on his forehead.’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ DI Morgan muttered.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you spoken to the dean?’

  ‘Not yet. Eunice Greene, the lady who found the body, is getting in touch with her. I’ve met Eunice before. Mike knows her. She helps to run a counselling group at the cathedral.’

  They walked slowly towards the hub of activity.

  ‘The body was found in this chapel. It’s open to the public. No charge,’ Karen said, pausing as they came close to the doorway. ‘There was a cleaning sign at the entrance, possibly placed deliberately to stop people entering the chapel and discovering the body.’

  The yellow sign was flat against the floor, and the chapel looked very different now with the crime scene technicians’ lights set up and illuminating every corner of the room. The smooth stone floor and historic stonework and carvings were exposed to the startling light. It seemed invasive and unnatural in the setting.

  ‘I happened to be passing when Eunice found the body,’ Karen said.

  ‘So you were first on the scene?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And you were out with Mike?’

  ‘Yes,’ Karen said slowly, not wanting to get into a conversation about Mike. ‘Eunice ID’d the body. He’s in her choir group, apparently. I’ve spoken to a few of the tourists who were making their way around the cathedral. I didn’t pick up on anything suspicious there, but PC Watts is taking their details just in case we need to get in touch with them.’

  ‘A bit of a shock to the end of your evening,’ Morgan said, his tone softening.

  Karen gave a wry smile. ‘You could say that. You took a while to get here tonight.’

  ‘Yes, the traffic was terrible.’

  ‘It always is with the Christmas market.’

  Karen introduced Morgan to Eunice, who told them the dean was on her way in. ‘It shouldn’t be more than ten minutes,’ Eunice explained, and she went again through the description of how she’d found the body, for Morgan’s benefit.

  It seemed cruel to have a witness repeat themselves, to go over it multiple times, describing what must have been a very distressing experience. But Karen had learned early on in her career that it was vital. Each time, the story changed just slightly, and there was a chance more information would be revealed.

  Not long after they’d finished talking to Eunice, Raj exited the chapel. His dark hair gleamed, and he smiled at them. The smile lifted his carefully styled moustache. ‘DI Morgan. Hello!’

  ‘Hello, Raj,’ Morgan said. ‘Does it look like murder?’

  ‘Yes,’ Raj said. ‘I’d say strangulation. I might be able to give you an idea about the ligature used once I get him back to the lab. There was ID on the body.’ Raj held out a wallet in an evidence bag.

  ‘Thanks.’ Karen pulled on gloves and went through the wallet. ‘His cards confirm it’s Lloyd Nelson,’ she said. ‘We’ve got bank cards, gym ID, store cards, but no driver’s licence.’

  Morgan asked, ‘Anything else you can tell us, Raj?’

  ‘Yes. It’s difficult to say for sure, but I think he was probably killed here. The marks on his forehead were made soon after death. There was still some bleeding. I’ll give you a more precise estimate for the time of death when I get him back, but I’d guess he was killed only a couple of hours ago.’

  ‘A couple of hours?’ Karen repeated, surprised. ‘He felt cold.’

  Raj nodded. ‘It’s cold in the chapel. The ambient temperature does make a difference, and he’s lying on the stone-cold floor.’

  ‘What do you think is carved into his forehead?’ Karen asked. ‘I thought it looked like a cross.’

  ‘I agree,’ Raj said. ‘Maybe not a deliberate carving, though. Once I clear the blood away from the wound, we’ll have a better idea. I’ll take more photographs.’

  ‘Any idea what was used to carve his skin?’ Morgan asked.

  ‘Not yet, no. No weapon has been found at the scene, at least not so far.’ Raj looked over his shoulder at the busy comings and goings in the chapel, as the crime scene techs went about their work. ‘I’d say probably a little knife. Something very sharp with a small blade, anyway.’

  Karen left Raj and Morgan talking and stepped closer to the chapel. Above the door was the carved face of a cherub. It must have seen some sights in its time, but surely it hadn’t witnessed many events as gruesome as this.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Karen left Morgan to speak to the dean. He had the simple job. She had the unenviable task of informing Lloyd Nelson’s family. It was never easy telling a family that a loved one had passed. But if anyone could shed light on who killed Lloyd Nelson, his family were a good bet.

  She called ahead before picking DC Sophie Jones up on the way. After her family liaison training, Sophie had been hoping for her first FLO job for a few months now, and Karen decided this would be a good case to start with.

  Sophie slid into the passenger seat of Karen’s Honda Civic. ‘Evening, Sarge. We’ve got a death message to deliver?’

  ‘Yes. A man called Lloyd Nelson. He was found in a small chapel within the cathedral. Looks to me like he’s been strangled. He also had something carved into his forehead.’

  Sophie twisted in her seat so she was fully facing Karen. ‘Something was carved into his forehead? That’s sick!’

  Karen indicated to turn off towards Coleby. ‘It is,’ she agreed.

  ‘And his body was left in the cathedral,’ Sophie mused. ‘Sounds to me like some kind of symbolic murder. Maybe a ritual killing. What was carved into his forehead?’

  Sophie spent her nights reading FBI manuals on serial killers and true crime accounts of unusual cases, so her immediate assumption that this was a ritualistic killing didn’t surprise Karen.

  ‘Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ Karen said. ‘We’re not really sure what’s on his forehead. It’s all a bit of a mess. We’ll have a better idea when Raj has cleaned up the body and wiped away the blood.’

  She didn’t add that she thought it had looked like a cross. That would add fuel to Sophie’s speculations, and as it had been dark in the chapel, she could have been mistaken. In her experience, murders were usually motivated by love, hate or greed. Ritual murders were few and far between.

  ‘Are there symbols anywhere else on his body?’

  Karen shook her head. ‘No. At least, Raj didn’t mention any. He might find more when he does a fuller examination at post-mortem.’

  ‘I went to lunch at The Bell with my parents a few weeks ago,’ Sophie said, pointing out the sign. ‘It was really nice.’

  Karen turned on t
o Coleby High Street. Houses lined both sides of the street. Terraces on one side, bungalows on the other. ‘Is this where the Nelsons live?’

  ‘Yes, number 32. If you feel up to it, you can take the lead on this.’

  Sophie looked surprised but pleased. ‘Absolutely, Sarge.’

  ‘Remember to give them some time to process the news. Be compassionate. Don’t rush into questions right away,’ Karen warned as she parked outside the Nelsons’ home – a small house, constructed from light bricks with a grey tile roof.

  It was more convenient for the senior officer to take the lead, but that didn’t help inexperienced officers learn. Observing wasn’t the same as doing. There was a different skill set involved.

  Karen had to admit it was unnerving letting Sophie handle a sensitive job. Families were unpredictable, and reactions to learning about the death of a loved one could vary. Stunned silence was a typical response. But at times, she’d witnessed hysterical ranting, sometimes even physical rage. You never knew what to expect.

  When two officers had turned up at her house with pity written all over their faces and delivered Karen’s own death message, her first response had been shock and disbelief. How could her husband and daughter be dead? It seemed impossible.

  Knowing how it felt to be on the receiving end didn’t make delivering the news any easier.

  After they rang the bell, the door was opened by a boy in his early teens. His hair was long and fell over his eyes.

  ‘About time,’ he said as the door was opening. ‘We’ve ordered pizza because . . .’ He trailed off. ‘Oh.’

  He’d been expecting to see someone else. His father?

  Karen and Sophie showed their ID. ‘DC Sophie Jones and DS Karen Hart of the Lincolnshire Police. Is your mum home?’

  He nodded but said nothing, stepping back and opening the door wide. Then he turned. ‘Mum, the police are here!’

  A woman entered the hallway, clutching a tea towel, a strange half-smile frozen on her face as though she were caught between wanting to be polite and wanting to tell them to go away. ‘Okay, Sebastian. Go back into the living room.’

  The boy pouted, looked at Karen and Sophie, then did as he was told.

  The drone of the TV got louder as he opened the door to the living room and slipped inside. The woman closed the door with a shaky hand.

  ‘It’s Mrs Nelson, isn’t it? Is it okay if we come in?’ Sophie asked.

  The woman nodded. ‘Yes, Beverley Nelson. Is everything all right?’

  They entered the hall, and as Karen shut the front door behind them, Sophie said, ‘Is there somewhere we could sit down, Mrs Nelson? I’m afraid we’ve got some bad news.’

  The woman reached out to brace herself against the wall, as though she were afraid her legs might buckle. ‘Bad news. What sort of bad news?’

  It always went like this. They hardly ever sat down before getting the news. Who could blame them? Karen certainly hadn’t wanted to. She’d wanted to know immediately what bad news they were there to deliver.

  ‘Is your husband Lloyd Nelson?’ Sophie asked.

  The woman raised a hand to her mouth and nodded.

  ‘Then I’m very sorry to tell you we believe Lloyd is dead. A body was found at Lincoln Cathedral this evening.’

  ‘No.’ She looked from Sophie to Karen and back again. ‘That can’t be right. I spoke to Lloyd a few hours ago. He was fine.’

  ‘Is it all right if we sit down, Mrs Nelson?’ Sophie said.

  Beverley headed into the kitchen at the back of the house. ‘You’ll have to come in here. I don’t want to upset the children.’

  ‘They’ll have to know eventually,’ Karen said softly.

  ‘I can’t just spring it on them.’ Beverley slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. ‘I’ll have to think of a way to make it easier—’ She stopped abruptly, as though suddenly realising there was nothing she could do to make the news easier.

  ‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Nelson,’ Karen said. She sat down opposite the woman.

  Beverley gripped the edge of the kitchen table, shaking her head. ‘Are you absolutely sure it’s him?’

  ‘He had his wallet on him, and his gym membership ID was inside,’ Sophie said gently. ‘We believe it is Lloyd. Though you will be able to identify his body.’

  Beverley swallowed hard and pressed her hands against her face. ‘Is this really happening? What was he doing at the cathedral?’ she muttered. She spoke to a spot on the ceiling rather than directly addressing Sophie or Karen.

  The doorbell rang before Sophie could answer, but Mrs Nelson sat still, staring blankly at the Artex pattern above.

  Karen got up and saw Sebastian at the front door. He grabbed money from the telephone table to pay a delivery driver. ‘Mum,’ he yelled. ‘Pizza’s here.’

  He brought it into the kitchen. He took one look at his mother’s face and asked, ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You’d better get Caitlin, Sebastian.’

  He slid the pizza on to the counter and went to get his sister.

  Caitlin was younger than Sebastian; Karen guessed her age to be around ten. She entered the kitchen nervously, sticking close to her brother’s side.

  When Beverley Nelson said nothing, Sophie frowned and looked perplexed. It was evident to Karen she was wondering whether Beverley wanted to tell the children herself or expected Sophie to do it. Karen almost took charge but held herself back. Sophie could handle it.

  ‘Would you like me to tell the children what’s happened, Mrs Nelson?’ Sophie asked.

  Beverley’s face crumpled. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she nodded.

  Sophie turned to Caitlin and Sebastian, and leaned down to their level. ‘I’m very sorry to tell you that your father has passed away. I know this must come as a terrible shock and—’

  Beverley interrupted. ‘He isn’t their father. I mean, Lloyd treated them as though he was. He loved them like they were his own, but he’s not their biological dad.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  The boy put his arm around his little sister’s shoulders when she began to cry. Then Beverley opened up her arms and Caitlin ran into them, sobbing as her mother wrapped her in a tight embrace. The boy moved closer to his mother and stood awkwardly beside her. He was at that age where he wanted to cry but was trying to act tough.

  ‘Are you okay, Sebastian? Do you want to sit down?’ Karen asked.

  He shook his head and blinked away his tears furiously. Then he grabbed the pizza, opened the box and started taking out slices and putting them on plates. Acting on autopilot, Karen thought. Trying not to think about what was happening.

  ‘Do the children still see their biological dad?’

  ‘Why do you want to know that?’

  ‘It helps us to understand the family history. Saves us time when we’re investigating.’

  ‘They see him now and then. When it suits him,’ Beverley said darkly. ‘Lloyd was more of a father to my kids than he ever was.’

  ‘Can I take your ex-husband’s details?’ Sophie prepared to make a note on her tablet.

  ‘Brett Wharton. He lives near Gainsborough. I’ve got his address on my phone. Sebastian, can you get it for me?’

  He left the kitchen to retrieve his mother’s phone. His shoulders were slumped, and he was clearly trying very hard not to cry.

  ‘How long have you and Lloyd been married?’

  ‘Almost a year. We got married in January. I thought that was it. I thought we would grow old together.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Beverley sniffed, and Sophie handed her a tissue and gave the family time to comfort each other, leaving a pause for the news to sink in before she began asking more questions. It was difficult. The family needed time to grieve, but the police required answers if they were to find out what had happened to Lloyd Nelson. Karen thought Sophie was handling the situation well.

  ‘Do you have any idea why Lloyd was at the cathedral this evening?’ Sophie asked
, after she made a note of Brett Wharton’s address and asked a few warm-up questions.

  ‘No. He said he’d gone out to do a bit of shopping, but he wouldn’t be long. We were expecting him back hours ago. He was supposed to be picking up a takeaway on his way home. The kids were hungry and didn’t want to wait. That’s why I said they could order pizza. I sent him a text. He didn’t reply . . . How did he die? Was it a heart attack?’

  Sebastian handed his sister a plate with a slice of pizza.

  ‘Thanks, love,’ Beverley said.

  The girl slid off her mother’s lap and took her plate to the other side of the table, and sat beside Karen. She picked the pizza apart with her fingers but didn’t eat it.

  ‘We don’t think it was a heart attack. Lloyd will need to have a post-mortem.’ Sophie glanced at the young girl, who was concentrating on ripping apart her pizza but was still clearly listening to every word.

  ‘Was Lloyd a religious man?’ Karen asked.

  ‘He goes to church occasionally. I mean, he’s a Christian, and he’s part of a choir who sing hymns and things, but he doesn’t always make it to church on Sundays.’

  ‘I know this is a tough question,’ Sophie said tentatively. ‘But is there anyone who might have wanted to hurt Lloyd?’

  Beverley looked up, her eyes wide. ‘No – nobody,’ she said with force. ‘He was a great man. He was kind, loving, sweet.’ She looked at Sebastian. ‘Wasn’t he?’

  The boy nodded obediently.

  ‘He was marvellous with the kids. Couldn’t do enough for them, and me. He was the loveliest man imaginable, and there’s no way anyone would have wanted to hurt him. I don’t understand how this could have happened.’

  Sophie made a note on her tablet, while Karen asked about Lloyd’s medical history. She suspected he’d had a cardiac problem, seeing as Beverley had assumed he’d died of a heart attack. Beverley confirmed he’d suffered from angina.

  ‘He was an amazing man, never moaned about his medical condition, though it left him breathless at times. He never said a bad word about anyone. Everyone loved him.’