On Cold Ground (Detective Karen Hart) Read online

  Karen didn’t answer his direct question straightaway. Instead, she asked a question of her own. ‘Was that the only disagreement you had with Mr Nelson while he was working for you?’

  Blundell’s forehead creased in a frown. ‘Um, I think so. I don’t recall us having any other issues.’ He shifted in his seat. He was no longer righteously indignant. He was starting to get nervous.

  Sophie glanced at Karen. She was wondering when they were going to put Blundell out of his misery, but Karen wasn’t quite ready yet.

  ‘Would you say you run a company with a pleasant working environment?’

  ‘Yes, I would. Why? Who’s been saying otherwise?’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘If it was the admin assistant I let go . . . She was terrible. She was employed for one month on a trial basis. Her dismissal was perfectly legal.’

  ‘As I said, sir, we’re here about Lloyd Nelson,’ Karen said.

  ‘Yes, I know, but why? If it’s not to do with the software, then what?’

  ‘Did any of your arguments turn physical?’

  He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head warily. ‘No. I am not a violent man, and neither is Lloyd.’

  Karen leaned forward, forearms resting on her knees, watching Blundell closely as she said, ‘Lloyd Nelson was murdered yesterday.’

  ‘Murdered? Good grief. Was it a mugging or . . .’ He trailed off, his assessing gaze on Karen. ‘No, it can’t have been a random killing. That’s why you’re here. You think he was killed by someone he knew. You think I was involved.’

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Where were you yesterday?’ Karen asked.

  ‘I was here at work. All day. Until about nine p.m. We’ve got a security system. You can check the cameras. I was logged into the network here too.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘I can’t believe this. Who would want to kill Lloyd?’

  ‘Can you tell us about him?’ Sophie asked.

  Blundell looked up. ‘You’d be better off talking to his wife. We work together, but we weren’t exactly mates.’

  ‘We’ve spoken to his wife,’ Sophie said. ‘But we’d like another perspective, if you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Right, well, he was generally rather quiet. Not exactly Mr Popular around here, but he got on okay with most people. An inoffensive kind of bloke, really. A bit geeky. Really into software, and he was good at his job. I have to give him that.’ Blundell looked down at the floor, his face pale. ‘I really can’t believe it.’

  He did seem shocked. Karen watched him closely, looking for signs he was acting. He was tall, muscular – easily strong enough to tighten a cord around Lloyd Nelson’s throat and hold it there until his employee’s life drained away. But what motive would he have for doing so? They’d had a disagreement over the rights to some software, but as he’d said, he held the rights – and if it was all in the signed contract, then he had nothing to worry about. He had no reason to kill Lloyd. Unless there was something they’d missed. Another reason Blundell wanted Lloyd out of the way.

  ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Blundell,’ Karen said. ‘We would like to take copies of your security footage and Lloyd’s personnel files.’

  He looked up, his eyes sharp again. ‘Do you have a warrant?’

  ‘We can get one if needed. It will save on paperwork if you cooperate without one.’

  Blundell hesitated for a moment, focusing on Karen with his cold, assessing gaze again, and then nodded. ‘All right. I’ll get what you need.’ He stood up and gestured to the kitchen area. ‘Feel free to help yourselves to tea or coffee.’

  After he left them, Sophie walked up to the shiny coffee machine. ‘Want one, Sarge?’

  ‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’ Karen stood up and wandered around the office, looking at the workstations. No family photos, no plants. Every desk was the same.

  ‘How on earth does this work?’ Sophie said, frowning as she grabbed a chrome handle.

  The machine let out a hissing puff of steam, and she quickly let go. Glancing over at Karen, she said, ‘I don’t think I’m thirsty, after all.’

  Blundell didn’t keep them waiting long. He returned with copies of Lloyd Nelson’s contract, as well as a memory stick containing security footage.

  Karen took them from him and wondered whether the footage could have been doctored. He’d probably have the skills to do so himself. But there were other security cameras along the street and the wharf, so she’d be able to look at those as well, to make sure his alibi checked out.

  He gave them a tight smile and a nod. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘For now,’ Karen said. ‘Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.’

  ‘I’ll show you out.’

  Karen thought he led them out of the building by a different route to the way they’d entered, but she couldn’t be sure as all the white corridors looked the same. ‘We may need to speak to other members of your staff this week. I take it that won’t be a problem.’

  He didn’t look happy, but his response was polite. ‘I’m sure we could arrange that.’

  ‘Was there anyone at Sparks who Lloyd was particularly close to? Someone who might be able to give us a bit more background?’

  Blundell shook his head. ‘Like I said, he wasn’t really popular. He didn’t mix with anyone outside of work, as far as I know.’

  They reached the main entrance, and he pressed the green button to release the door.

  He watched them leave, standing in the doorway, and they walked back towards Lucy Tower Street.

  ‘What was with all the white?’ Sophie said once they were out of earshot. ‘It made my eyes go funny with all the LED lights.’

  ‘Mine too,’ Karen said. ‘It felt sterile in there. Like a laboratory.’

  ‘Do you think he did it?’ Sophie asked.

  Karen shrugged, crossing her arms and tucking her hands in to keep them warm. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure what to make of Mr Blundell yet.’

  ‘He looked shocked when you told him Nelson was murdered.’

  ‘He did. Quite convincing.’

  ‘So what’s next? Check out Blundell and Wharton’s alibis?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that this afternoon and look at the security footage. You’d better call in on Beverley Nelson this afternoon. We need to keep her updated on progress.’

  ‘We’ve not made much yet,’ Sophie said. ‘What can I tell her?’

  ‘Tell her we’re working hard to track down Lloyd’s killer. While you’re there, try to get her talking. She might give us more to go on.’

  ‘So you do think she was holding something back yesterday?’

  ‘Yes, I do. Perhaps not intentionally, and it might not be relevant to Lloyd’s murder.’

  ‘I’ll do my best to get her to open up. Can we tell her how Lloyd was killed?’

  ‘As the post-mortem hasn’t been completed, we can’t say for certain, but you can tell Beverley we believe he was strangled. Don’t mention the cross on his forehead.’

  They got into the car, and Sophie began to type some notes on her phone. As Karen reversed out of the parking spot, she thought about the two suspects.

  Both claimed to have alibis. Blundell’s should be easy to check, but Wharton had claimed to be home with his girlfriend, Jacqui. There were no cameras to confirm his whereabouts. He had Jacqui to corroborate, but it wouldn’t be the first time a woman had lied to give her partner an alibi.

  Karen stopped behind a silver Volvo as she joined the queue to exit the car park, and drummed her fingers on the wheel. She’d wanted a quick resolution to this case so they could help Morgan with the hit-and-run investigation, but it was starting to look like this murder case wasn’t as straightforward as she’d hoped.

  Maybe Sophie would get something more from Beverley Nelson this afternoon.

  Karen made a mental checklist of things she needed to get done. She had to follow up on the choir members, check Rick’s work on the CCTV, and maybe run through
the witness statements again to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. But her first task would be looking into the alibis Wharton and Blundell had provided. She needed to make sure they were telling the truth.

  CHAPTER NINE

  DI Morgan got out of bed at five a.m. on Monday morning. The heating had only been on for half an hour, and the house was cold. He turned the shower on, twisting the thermostat to extra-hot, trying to get warm. He felt sluggish and slow. No surprise really, when he’d gone to bed after midnight.

  He had multiple cases on the go. A robbery, an assault in the city centre, a boy knocked off his bike in Waddington, and now Lloyd Nelson’s murder.

  The Nelson murder was an intriguing case, and Morgan didn’t want to let it go, but his team was stretched thin at the moment. He could get up at five a.m. every morning and put the hours in, but eventually something would have to give. The paperwork was piling up, and as a perfectionist, Morgan hated that. He couldn’t stand disorder.

  He’d been putting it off, but he’d have to talk to the superintendent today and admit it was too much. They’d have to pass some of the workload to another team – maybe the robbery. That was almost complete. A few final statements to sign off and a meeting with the CPS – and, of course, a multitude of forms to fill in.

  They’d been short-staffed since Freeman had been removed from duty. Despite the substantial evidence against the disgraced detective inspector, he was still on paid leave and hadn’t been fired. As such, that meant technically there wasn’t a vacancy to fill, so his work had to be spread over the other teams.

  Morgan got out of the shower and rubbed the steam from the mirror. His reflection made him cringe. He looked awful, with dark circles under his eyes and pale skin. He picked up his toothbrush and ignored his reflection. He didn’t have time to be tired.

  At twenty past five, he went downstairs to get a coffee, but paused in the hallway by the front door. There was an envelope, face down, on the doormat. Morgan looked through the circular window in his front door. It was still dark outside and far too early for the post. He was sure it hadn’t been there when he went to bed last night. So at some point between midnight and now, this letter had landed on the mat. Odd time to hand-deliver a letter.

  He crouched down and flicked the envelope over. His name and address were written in block capitals on the front, but there was no postmark or stamp.

  If he hadn’t been a police officer, he would have simply opened the envelope and read the contents. But his years as a detective made him cautious.

  He went into the kitchen, pulled out a box of gloves from under the sink, and put a pair on before returning to open the letter.

  The envelope was normal enough. White, rectangular. Morgan slid his finger along the seal, opening it, and quickly scanned the contents. He’d been right to be cautious.

  With the letter still clutched in his right hand, he opened the door and moved swiftly across the driveway and into the street, looking left and right, searching for whoever had delivered the letter. But the road was empty and quiet. The messenger must have visited in the early hours and was now long gone.

  He went back inside and stared at the handwritten letter for a long time before slipping it back into the envelope and searching for a plastic bag to put it in. It was evidence.

  He thought for a moment, wondering whether to call it in straightaway. But instead, he switched on the kettle, and as it boiled, he stared out at the garden. It was too dark to see more than the shadowy outlines of bare branches and stumpy shrubs. But he wasn’t looking at the plants. He was thinking, weighing up the options.

  His first instinct was to call Karen and talk it through with her, but it was very early. She’d still be asleep. Maybe she’d be with Mike Harrington. He frowned.

  After making the coffee, he put the gloves back on and reread the letter.

  Detective Inspector Morgan,

  How did you like my tribute in the cathedral?

  I wouldn’t try too hard to solve this case if I were you. The man was no innocent.

  Lloyd Nelson had lots of dirty secrets, but now he’s cleansed of his sins. What do you think about that, detective? Would you like to be cleansed of your sins?

  Lloyd was a thief. He stole from his employer. He embezzled money from the company for years.

  He beat his wife too.

  But if you were any good at your job, you’d know that by now.

  The Cleanser.

  Morgan put the letter back in the bag, removed his gloves and then took a sip of his coffee. His hand shook as he put the cup back on the counter. The letter addressed him directly. How did they have his name? Was it from the killer, or someone unstable who just wanted a bit of attention?

  A press release and police statement had been issued to the public on Sunday, but there had been no mention of Morgan’s name as lead on the investigation.

  Though they’d received letters and phone calls from individuals wanting to take the credit and fame for someone else’s gruesome crimes in the past, Morgan’s gut instinct told him that this was a genuine letter from the killer. A sick individual who’d picked out their own nickname. The Cleanser.

  He took another sip of coffee and then set the mug down on the counter. It tasted bitter.

  What did it mean by Would you like to be cleansed of your sins? It sounded like a threat. But why target him? Sins? Was The Cleanser someone he’d crossed in the past? Or a friend or family member of someone he’d put away?

  Was the cross on Lloyd Nelson’s forehead some sort of symbol that he’d been cleansed?

  Morgan emptied his mug in the sink and reached for his jacket. He had started the day planning to talk to the superintendent, to try to simplify his caseload. But things had just got a great deal more complicated.

  He didn’t have time to dissect this now, alone. He needed to go to the station, get the team on board and get their feedback. This was a significant piece of evidence. Perhaps the killer thought they were being clever by taunting the police, but Morgan hoped the boasting would reveal clues to the killer’s identity. The need to gloat could be the killer’s weakness.

  DI Morgan was already sitting behind his desk when Karen walked into the open-plan office. She felt a nip of guilt, then pushed it away. It was only just after seven. She’d worked late last night, fruitlessly trying to find a hole in one of the alibis. And then she’d helped Rick go through the recent contacts on Lloyd Nelson’s phone, trying to find a new lead.

  She crossed over and waved through the large glass door to Morgan’s office.

  He looked up but didn’t smile.

  She opened the door a crack. ‘Do you want a cup of coffee?’

  He didn’t respond to her question, but instead asked, ‘Would you mind coming into my office for a minute? Shut the door behind you.’

  Karen raised an eyebrow at that. ‘Sure.’

  After she shut the door, she took a seat in front of his desk. ‘What’s up? I’m warning you I haven’t had coffee yet, so if it’s something that requires concentration, I’m going to be useless.’ She smiled, but Morgan’s face remained stony.

  He pushed a sheet of paper in a plastic evidence bag across the desk. ‘I found this on my doormat this morning.’

  Karen picked it up, scanned it and then looked up sharply at Morgan. ‘This was delivered to your house?’

  He nodded.

  ‘They mention you by name. They know where you live.’ Karen ran a hand through her hair. ‘This is bad, Morgan. It’s really bad.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m in immediate danger.’

  ‘I disagree.’

  ‘I think Nelson’s killer is trying to taunt me with how clever they are.’

  Karen put the letter down on the desk and rubbed her hands over her face. ‘The Cleanser?’ She shivered. ‘What does it mean, cleansed of his sins? It seems to be implying Lloyd Nelson deserved to die because of something he did.’

  ‘Yes, I read it that way too.’

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nbsp; Karen pressed her fingertips against her temples, trying to process this new information. It was shocking, and her immediate reaction was one of fear – fear for Morgan.

  She read the note again, trying to decipher any hidden meanings. ‘It doesn’t make sense. They claim Lloyd was beating his wife. Beverley Nelson said nothing about that . . .’ Karen broke off, thinking hard. She’d had the impression the woman had been holding something back when they’d spoken, but Beverley hadn’t given them any indication Lloyd had been violent. Was she trying to protect his memory?

  ‘Nothing came up on the background searches, Morgan. We were thorough. There were no hospital visits by Bev, no complaints against Lloyd from any previous partners.’

  Morgan leaned forward and turned the letter around to face him again. Looking down at it, he asked, ‘What about the embezzlement? Did anything Ross Blundell say suggest Lloyd was stealing from the company?’

  ‘No. If anything, it was the other way round. Lloyd accused his boss of stealing his ideas.’

  ‘Do you think the so-called sins in the letter are incorrect, then?’

  Karen lifted her hands, palms up. ‘I really don’t know. We can go back and ask, make sure we haven’t missed anything.’

  ‘Yes. I think that should be first on the list of tasks today. Find out if he was violent. If he hit Beverley and her ex-husband found out, that gives him another motive. If he discovered Lloyd was hitting his ex-wife around his children . . .’

  Morgan didn’t need to finish his sentence. Karen knew exactly what he was implying.

  ‘I’ll speak to Beverley again this morning. Then I’ll get on to Lloyd’s boss again, ask him about the possible embezzlement and get him to check the company accounts.’ Karen frowned. ‘What I don’t understand is how does the killer know this stuff? If it’s true, then they must be quite close to Lloyd, don’t you think?’

  ‘If they are, that would be a good thing. It’ll make him or her easier to track down,’ Morgan said.

  ‘Do you have any idea what time the letter was delivered?’

  ‘Between midnight and five twenty, which is when I went downstairs this morning and discovered it on the doormat.’