On Cold Ground (Detective Karen Hart) Read online

  He shrugged. ‘Didn’t really know him.’

  ‘But you must’ve had an opinion. After all, he was living with your children.’

  Brett clenched his teeth. ‘All right. I didn’t think much of him. But it was Bev keeping me from the kids, not him. She’s the one I have an issue with.’

  ‘Any arguments? Disputes with Lloyd?’

  He paused before he shook his head.

  ‘It’s easier if you tell us now,’ Karen said. ‘If we later find out you were hiding things, it looks bad.’

  He stayed quiet, thinking. He was deciding whether to let the skeletons out or to keep quiet and hope they never came to light.

  ‘Where were you yesterday, Mr Wharton?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘I was here.’

  ‘All day?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Jacqui brought the coffee over to the table. ‘You don’t seriously think Brett was involved?’

  ‘Of course they do. Why else do you think they’re here?’ he snapped. ‘I’m probably top of their list. Jealous ex-husband. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ Jacqui said before Karen or Sophie could answer. She slid into the seat beside Brett. ‘He was here with me all day.’

  ‘Did you go out at all?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘We went for a walk along the river in the afternoon.’ He swore, a vein pulsing at his temple.

  ‘What time?’

  Jacqui put a hand on Brett’s arm. ‘Keep calm. Remember your breathing.’

  ‘I don’t know exactly. About three o’clock.’ Brett put his hands flat on the table and took a deep breath.

  ‘But you were together all day?’ Karen asked.

  ‘Yes, we were,’ Jacqui said firmly, and she pushed two mugs of coffee towards Karen and Sophie.

  ‘When was the last time either of you saw Lloyd Nelson?’ Karen asked.

  ‘I’ve never met him,’ Jacqui said.

  Brett sighed. ‘A couple of weeks ago, I guess. I’d gone to pick up the kids. Bev told me I couldn’t see them because I was late. Five minutes! I couldn’t help the traffic. She was being thoroughly unreasonable. Lloyd came outside to stick his oar in, as usual.’

  ‘Was there an altercation?’ Karen asked.

  ‘A fight, you mean?’ Brett’s cheeks were pink.

  ‘You’ve attended an anger management course, haven’t you?’

  ‘I hardly think it’s fair to hold that against him.’ Jacqui sniffed and reached for her coffee. ‘He went on that course because he was trying to control his temper.’

  ‘He went on that course because he was asked to do so by the family court, in order to see his children,’ Karen clarified.

  Jacqui blinked and then looked at Brett. She hadn’t known about that, then. Karen wondered what else Brett hadn’t told his new partner.

  ‘There was no fight – at least, not physical. We exchanged a few heated words, and I left. Came back here. I don’t think I’m the unreasonable one. I haven’t seen Seb and Caitlin for weeks.’ He let out a deep sigh. ‘I’m sure you have preconceived notions about me. And I probably deserve them. I’ve been hot-headed in the past and made poor decisions, but I’m working on improving myself. Since I’ve started meditating, I feel a sense of inner calm.’

  The music shifted from panpipes to a light tinkling tune.

  ‘He really has made big changes,’ Jacqui said earnestly.

  ‘Don’t bother, Jacqui, love. They’ve already made up their minds about me.’

  ‘Pretty crystals,’ Sophie said, nodding at the multifaceted stones on the windowsill, shifting away from the main conversation to defuse the tension.

  Jacqui smiled. ‘They help process negative energy. The amethysts are healing stones.’

  ‘How interesting. You’re both into this New Age stuff then?’

  ‘It’s mainly me,’ Jacqui said, as Brett took a sip of his coffee. ‘But Brett has been getting more involved, haven’t you?’

  Brett was still glowering at Karen and Sophie. ‘There’s got to be something in it. The ideas are ancient. The philosophy still makes sense.’ He sounded defensive.

  ‘What philosophy is that?’ Karen asked.

  ‘Being at one with the earth. Allowing energy to flow through you instead of fighting it. Some things are meant to be, and you have to accept them.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Sophie said. ‘Is there a religious aspect? A deity?’

  ‘We’re not really following any religion,’ Jacqui said. ‘It’s more about being in tune with your feelings and at one with the earth.’

  ‘And how exactly do you do that?’ Karen asked.

  ‘Meditation.’ Jacqui smiled. ‘We use candles and incense to help us relax as we try to access a higher plane, so we can look back on our earthly bodies and see how small everyday problems really are in the scheme of things, you know?’

  Sophie made notes as Karen asked more questions. Jacqui seemed open and transparent, but Brett was guarded. Perhaps that was understandable. He knew they were looking at him as a suspect.

  ‘Any other rituals?’ Sophie asked.

  Karen sent her a meaningful look. She knew what Sophie was edging towards in her questioning, but they hadn’t disclosed how Lloyd had died yet, and she certainly didn’t want Brett to know about the mark on Lloyd Nelson’s forehead.

  ‘I do a cleansing ritual,’ Jacqui said, warming to what was clearly a favourite subject. ‘We use sage and incense to clear the space of any negative forces before we start meditating. You should give it a try – meditating, I mean. It might help release the tension.’ Jacqui focused on Karen.

  ‘Maybe,’ Karen said, and finished the last of her coffee.

  ‘How did he die?’ Brett asked suddenly.

  ‘We’re awaiting the results of the post-mortem,’ Karen said.

  Brett exhaled slowly. ‘Right. I’d better call the kids, see how they’re handling it.’ He lifted his gaze. ‘Did you see them? How did they seem to you?’

  ‘They were shocked by the news, and upset,’ Karen said.

  Brett rubbed a hand over his face. ‘Yeah, I’d better give them a ring. That’s if Bev lets me talk to them.’

  ‘Do they have their own phones?’ Karen asked, expecting Sebastian would, at least. She didn’t meet many teens without their own mobile these days.

  ‘They do. But Bev doesn’t like me calling them. She likes to know when I’m speaking to them.’

  ‘She’s so unreasonable,’ Jacqui said, flicking her long red hair.

  Karen didn’t comment. ‘We’ll be in touch. If you think of anything that could be relevant to Lloyd’s murder, you can call me direct.’ She handed Brett her card.

  He took it and turned it over in his fingers thoughtfully, then he looked up. ‘You don’t think the kids could be in any danger, do you?’

  ‘I think it’s unlikely.’

  ‘But it’s possible? Maybe I should try for temporary custody?’ He was talking to Karen, but his gaze roamed the room. He was thinking, planning.

  ‘That would add extra pressure to an already stressful situation, Mr Wharton. I’d advise against it.’

  Brett pushed up from the table and crossed the room to pick up his phone from the kitchen counter. ‘No offence, but I’d prefer to take advice from my lawyer rather than you.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘Do you think we’ve inadvertently started a custody battle, Sarge?’ Sophie asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

  ‘I think Brett Wharton was just looking for an excuse. Let’s hope his solicitor talks him out of it. What did you think of Brett and Jacqui?’

  ‘Bit odd,’ Sophie mused. ‘I thought Jacqui was harmless enough, but Brett . . . I wouldn’t be surprised if he still has anger issues.’

  ‘I agree,’ Karen said. ‘He was struggling to keep his temper in check. Whether that’s because he’s upset over his children—’

  ‘Or because he’s a killer?’ Sophie suggested, finishing Karen’s
sentence.

  ‘From his point of view, Beverley is keeping him from his children. That has to be difficult for any father,’ Karen said as she drove away from Wharton’s house. ‘It doesn’t mean he’d be driven to kill Lloyd.’

  ‘Unless Lloyd stepped in to protect Bev when they were arguing, and tempers ran high . . .’ Sophie trailed off.

  ‘But we think Lloyd was killed in the cathedral. It wasn’t during an argument over custody. And you saw how Bev reacted when we gave her the death message. She was horrified, genuinely shocked by the news.’

  ‘She was. What if Brett Wharton had been so infuriated by Lloyd sticking his oar in, as he described it, that he followed him to the cathedral and killed him when Bev and the kids weren’t around?’

  ‘Then that would have been a cold-blooded murder. He’d have planned it. Two weeks between the argument and Lloyd’s murder. Brett would’ve had time to calm down and think things through.’

  ‘Unless Brett was lying,’ Sophie suggested. ‘Maybe they met up again, had another argument?’

  ‘Possible.’

  ‘And that New Age stuff was weird. Suspicious.’

  ‘Lots of people meditate these days. Makes sense if he’s trying to keep his anger in check.’

  ‘But the symbol, Sarge. Maybe it’s part of a ritual. Brett and Jacqui could be members of a wacky cult. Lloyd could have been a sacrifice.’

  ‘Going from meditation to human sacrifice is a bit of a jump, Sophie.’

  Sophie deflated with a sigh. ‘I suppose. Though I do think there’s a ritual aspect to this killing.’

  Karen hoped Sophie was wrong. If the killing was ritual in nature then it was unlikely Brett was the killer. Why pick someone you knew for a sacrifice when it was bound to lead the police straight to your door?

  Karen drove out of Morton and headed towards Lincoln on the A156, planning to call in on Ross Blundell’s home in Saxilby.

  ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you,’ Sophie said, searching through her handbag. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you.’

  ‘You have?’ Karen asked with a certain amount of trepidation.

  ‘Yes.’ Sophie produced two paper tickets from the bag. ‘Ta-da!’

  ‘What are those?’

  ‘Tickets to see Dr Michaels on Thursday night! For you and me. My treat.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Sophie’s face fell. ‘I mean, I know it’s late notice. If you’ve got other plans, I’d understand.’

  ‘Dr Michaels is the author of the book you’ve been reading?’

  ‘Yes, he’s come over from America for a book tour. He’s amazing.’

  ‘He’s a doctor, then? I thought he was a police officer.’

  ‘He’s both. He has a doctorate in criminology. There’s not much he doesn’t know about ritual murders. Consider it research.’

  Karen searched for the words to let her down gently. She could make something up, tell Sophie she had plans with Mike that evening, but when she looked at the younger officer’s hopeful face, she found herself smiling and saying, ‘It sounds interesting.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so glad you think so. I know you’re sceptical, but once you see him in person and listen to him talk, you’ll be blown away.’

  Karen parked up outside Ross Blundell’s residence, a bungalow on Willow Close that backed on to the primary school. It was a pleasant area. All the homes had neat and tidy frontages, but Karen was surprised. She’d expected Blundell to have a flashier place, with his background.

  She reached over to grab her handbag from the back seat, then pulled out her mobile phone. ‘I’m going to call the DI and let him know we’re about to speak to Blundell. Morgan might have some specific questions for him.’

  But once again, Karen’s phone was frozen. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she muttered. ‘You’ll have to ring him, Sophie.’

  As Sophie placed the call, Karen got out of the car and took a look around.

  It was a quiet, residential area. The weak sunlight had managed to melt the frost. The bungalows all looked very similar, though some – Blundell’s included – had been extended by converting the garages. The driveways were all alike too, tarmac rather than paved, but unlike most of the other bungalows, there were no cars parked outside Blundell’s home.

  Karen felt a spike of alarm. Had he done a runner? Maybe they should have questioned him last night. She ran a hand through her short, spiky hair as Sophie climbed out of the car.

  ‘Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,’ Karen said, and she walked towards the bungalow.

  The door was white uPVC, and the house number was on an oval picture of a cheeky-looking squirrel beside the doorbell. It was something Karen might expect her mum to buy, not a geeky tech wizard.

  She rang the bell, but as she’d feared, there was no answer.

  Sophie waited beside her. ‘Maybe he’s gone shopping?’

  ‘It’s Sunday morning. Nothing’s open yet.’

  Sophie shrugged. ‘Maybe the gym.’

  Karen hadn’t considered that. Why anyone would want to spend a Sunday morning at the gym was beyond her. ‘As long as he hasn’t tried to leg it.’

  Sophie looked up sharply. ‘Do you think he would?’

  A shrill voice behind them called, ‘He’s not in!’

  ‘We’d noticed,’ Sophie murmured sarcastically, as they turned to see an elderly woman poking her head out of a window of the bungalow opposite. The net curtains covered half her face, like a veil.

  They walked across the road. ‘I don’t suppose you know where he is?’ Karen asked, smiling.

  ‘Friends of his, are you?’ the woman asked doubtfully.

  ‘That’s right,’ Karen said, before Sophie could say any different.

  ‘I expect he’ll be at work. He’s there all hours.’

  Karen thanked the woman, and turned to Sophie as they walked back to the car.

  ‘Let’s hope she’s right.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sparks Software Design was located in a building just off Brayford Wharf, so they parked at Lucy Tower Street. Karen jammed her hands in her pockets as they walked along the wharf, which was busy now as the shops and restaurants were opening. She’d left her gloves in the car. The sun sparkled on the water, but it was bitterly cold.

  Sophie pressed the intercom button, and as they waited, they looked at the outside of the building, which had been done up in white cladding with gold-coloured blockwork. The exterior gave it a modern appearance that didn’t quite fit with the buildings around it.

  ‘Shall I try again, Sarge?’ Sophie asked, after they’d been waiting for a minute without an answer.

  Karen nodded, but before Sophie could press the button again, the door opened.

  They both stepped back in surprise, as they’d been expecting a response from the intercom.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  Karen recognised Ross Blundell from the photograph on his website. He didn’t look quite as smug today, more irritated.

  ‘Ross Blundell?’ Karen asked, holding out her ID. ‘We’d like a quick chat with you about one of your employees.’

  Blundell took Karen’s ID and studied it. His eyes narrowed.

  ‘Who?’ He crossed his arms over his chest, looking at Karen with suspicion.

  He stood blocking the doorway, clearly not willing to invite them into the office. ‘Lloyd Nelson,’ Sophie said.

  Blundell huffed out a laugh. ‘Seriously? I don’t believe this. You should be out there working on real crimes.’

  Karen raised an eyebrow. ‘Perhaps we could come in, sir? So we can discuss the matter privately.’

  ‘Fine,’ he said, standing aside for them to enter. ‘But I want it on record that I consider this a complete waste of police time – and mine, for that matter. I’m a busy man. I don’t spend my days working on Sundays for fun, you know.’

  ‘Neither do we, sir,’ Karen replied dryly.

  Karen and Sophie exchanged a look as he marched ahead of them along the corrid
or, then he opened another door that led to a stairwell.

  They followed him upstairs. He was young, tall, good-looking and had a definite touch of arrogance, Karen thought.

  The floor, ceilings and walls were all white. Very slick, modern and cold. The whiteness was disorientating after a while. All the doors looked the same.

  He had no idea why they were really there. Karen decided not to deliver the news too early. He might be more talkative if he didn’t realise he was a suspect in a murder enquiry.

  He led them into an open-plan office, which had a large kitchen with a comfortable seating area on one side. It was nicely done, even if everything – from the kettle to the armchairs – was white. It was nicer than their office back at the station. A fancy white-and-chrome coffee machine gleamed on the kitchen counter. Sophie eyed it hopefully, but Ross Blundell didn’t offer them a drink.

  ‘We can sit here,’ he said, motioning to the plush white armchairs set around the coffee table beside the kitchen.

  ‘We understand Lloyd Nelson worked for you, Mr Blundell,’ Karen said as they sat down.

  Ross gave a weary sigh. ‘Yes, he’s worked with me for five years. The stupid man.’

  ‘Why do you say that, Mr Blundell?’

  ‘Well, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Look, everything is above board. It was in his contract. I can go into the admin files and dig it out for you, if you like?’

  When neither Karen nor Sophie replied, he continued. ‘Every part of the software that Lloyd designed was legally owned by me. My company. It’s all there in black and white. He signed it, for goodness’ sake. I can’t believe he actually went to the police over this. I thought he was kidding when he said he’d sue me. It’s just unbelievable.’

  ‘Lloyd Nelson was going to sue you, sir?’ Sophie said, pulling out her tablet and balancing it on her knee.

  ‘Yes. He claimed I was passing off his designs as my own. Ridiculous. The software design belongs to the company. I own the company, so the software is mine, no matter who designed it.’

  This was the argument that Beverley Nelson had mentioned. ‘I’m afraid we’re not here about that, sir.’

  Blundell blinked. ‘You’re not? Then why are you here?’