House of Lies (Detective Karen Hart) Read online

  Twenty-seven-year-old Alison King had been in a positive frame of mind according to her family and friends, with no history of mental illness. The investigating team had found a few cigarette ends on the roof, and it looked like Alison may have sneaked up there to smoke and lost her footing in the dark, falling over the small parapet.

  That was only their working theory, though. Rick didn’t have much concrete information to report back to Karen.

  He jogged down the stairs. A trip up to the third floor was about all the excitement he got these days. Not exactly a thrill a minute, but it was nice to get out of the open-plan main office for a short time. Sitting at his desk doing paperwork made his mind drift to things he didn’t necessarily want to focus on.

  A few months back, he’d taken some time off work for a trip to Mablethorpe with his mum. She and his dad had taken Rick there with his sister, Lauren, when they were tots, and he had many fond memories of the place.

  Despite her dementia, she’d been particularly lucid in the weeks leading up to the holiday, so Rick had high hopes they would have a smashing time. But it hadn’t quite worked out the way he’d planned. In fact, his mother had been very disturbed at the change in her routine. She hadn’t understood where she was or who she was with, and on the second day of the holiday, she’d woken up bewildered and hadn’t even recognised Rick.

  She’d forgotten people before, of course. But never him. On a few occasions over the past year, she’d failed to recognise Lauren and had accused her of being an interloper or a fraud. So Rick had known it was coming. He had seen how it affected his sister, how it hurt her, but he’d never been on the receiving end. And though he’d been expecting it, knowing that eventually the day would come when his mother looked at his face and saw a stranger, he hadn’t expected the pain to be so intense. He thought he’d been prepared. So why, even now, did it feel like somebody had punched a hole in his stomach and clamped his guts in a vice when he remembered the blank look on his mum’s face?

  All the hopes Rick had held for the holiday evaporated on the second day. He hadn’t wanted to continue the holiday after that. His first reaction was to pack up the car and take his mum straight home, but Priya, his mum’s carer, had been there, and she’d persuaded Rick to stick it out for a little longer.

  The following day, his mother had seemed more settled and she hadn’t blanked on him again. She knew who he was, even though she thought he was still a kid. She’d got times and years mixed up a lot recently.

  They did the things he’d planned – visited the arcades, had fish and chips, walked along the beach, stopped for a cuppa at the same place they always used to stop for tea and toasted teacakes. But it felt like he was trying too hard, forcing it. His mother wasn’t laughing, enjoying the trip down memory lane as he’d hoped. Instead she wore a confused smile all the time, as though she didn’t know quite what was going on but wanted to make Rick happy, so she kept a smile on her face.

  Since they’d got back from the holiday, things had only got worse. The doctor had changed his mum’s medication, which hadn’t helped. There was always a bedding-in period as she got used to the new drugs, but Rick couldn’t help thinking that maybe this was it now. There wouldn’t be many more times when they could share a memory or a laugh. Soon those memories would be Rick’s alone.

  Before heading back to the office, Rick nipped to the canteen and bought himself a ham and cheese sandwich. He sat at a table near the window. The rain was still coming down steadily and the wind had picked up now, moving the branches of the trees opposite the car park.

  Patches of floodwater dotted the fields. There were flood warnings in force all over Lincolnshire and had been for the past two weeks. He hoped the two missing students hadn’t been caught up in the bad weather. In Derbyshire, a woman had been swept away by the floodwaters, but in Lincolnshire, thankfully, the damage had been to property and industry rather than a threat to life.

  There had been no reports of young women matching Natasha’s or Cressida’s description at any of the local hospitals.

  When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he hastily swallowed a mouthful of his sandwich and reached in his pocket to retrieve it. It was Karen.

  ‘Hello, Sarge.’

  ‘Rick, what did you find out about Alison King?’

  ‘Not a great deal I’m afraid. Harry reckons she went up to the roof for a cigarette and fell. No indication she was depressed or wanted to end her own life.’

  ‘Right. It’s probably got nothing to do with the students’ disappearance, but I thought it was worth checking out.’

  ‘Absolutely. Any news your end?’ Rick asked.

  ‘Nothing much, but I would like you to look into Graham Doyle’s company. I’d also like you to speak to all the teachers who were working here this week, and I’m particularly interested in Edward Chidlow’s background.’

  ‘Chidlow’s a person of interest, is he?’

  ‘Possibly,’ Karen said. ‘I’m not sure yet, but we need to look at him and anyone who’s been in contact with these students this week. Chidlow’s interesting because, according to Todd Layton – Natasha’s father – Chidlow has quite the reputation.’

  ‘What sort of reputation?’

  ‘Layton said, according to the local rumour mill, Chidlow likes younger women.’

  ‘How much younger?’

  ‘That’s what I need you to look into, Rick.’

  ‘All right, Sarge. I’ll see what I can find out.’

  After hanging up, Rick polished off his sandwich in two final bites, and took one last look out of the window. Yes, England was a green and pleasant land thanks to all the rain they had, but it could be really depressing. He could do with seeing the sun break through the clouds for a moment or two.

  He stood, and with a sigh he threw the sandwich wrapper in the bin before heading back to the office. The background work was important, but sometimes he found it difficult to connect to a case when he hadn’t actually met any of the suspects. But he had to admit it was easier to do the background searches here, with access to all the databases.

  Maybe later he’d go to Chidlow House and check in with Karen in person. But first he needed to do some digging into Edward Chidlow’s character.

  While DI Morgan took a call from Superintendent Murray, Karen stood in Doyle’s office, looking out at the lawns and the woods in the distance. The heavy rain had reduced to a fine drizzle, giving the grounds a misty, eerie feel.

  The search was underway. Grey figures fanned out across the Chidlow property. They’d started close to the house but were now slowly moving further afield.

  Lord Chidlow had not been happy when Karen informed him that they’d need to search the house too.

  He’d come close to throwing a tantrum, declaring he didn’t want police officers clomping around in his home. ‘The missing students are hardly likely to still be here, are they?’

  ‘We don’t know, sir. That’s why we need to look into all the rooms,’ Karen had said.

  He’d flung up his hands. ‘Fine. You can do the search but I’m not having anyone going through my personal possessions. Stay out of my study.’

  His unhelpful reaction was irritating, but he was well within his rights to refuse them access. They could get a warrant but that would take time. It made sense to humour him, for now. Karen agreed it was unlikely the girls were still in the house, but they might find something that indicated where they’d gone or who had taken them.

  When Morgan finished his call with the superintendent and put his mobile back in his pocket, Karen said, ‘Are you ready for the next student?’

  DI Morgan nodded. ‘Yes, I think we should probably talk to Stuart Blythe first. Doyle said his parents are making quite a fuss about getting him home.’

  Karen stood up. ‘I’ll go and get him.’

  ‘Thanks,’ DI Morgan said. ‘I think we’ll be able to cover more ground if I question the students alone and you start looking around the house.’
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  ‘You don’t think they could still be here, do you? It is a big house.’

  Morgan shook his head. ‘I doubt it. They could be trapped somewhere, but surely we’d have heard them calling for help. I think it’s more likely we’ll find out something from one of the students, but we still need to do the search.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll get Stuart and then make a start.’

  She left Doyle’s office and headed to the library. The dining room, where Doyle had wanted to keep the parents and students, had proved too uncomfortable. After a multitude of complaints about the hard chairs and canteen-like long table, he’d moved them to the large library.

  Karen stopped by the door. Though it was a big room, it seemed crowded with so many people inside. Everyone was talking at once and no one seemed to notice her standing there, which gave her time to watch and observe.

  Every student was sitting with at least one parent and looking at their mobiles, except Ella Seaton and Ethan Grayson.

  The chief constable had gone back to work, leaving his son alone. Karen wondered where Ethan’s mother was. She didn’t know much about the chief constable’s personal life. Why would she?

  Ethan sat on a high-backed chair and looked forlorn and isolated. Not that the other families were chatting happily. The tones of the voices in the room were angry and irritable.

  When Karen had commented on the obnoxious behaviour of some of the parents, who’d demanded to be seen first so they could get back to their important lives, Morgan had said it was only to be expected. They were rich and used to getting their own way. He believed they were only thinking of themselves and not the two missing students, but Karen wasn’t sure that was true. She thought they were concerned about Natasha and Cressida. They were disturbed by the girls’ disappearance and they were scared.

  They knew it could just as easily have been their child. Their pushy behaviour and rudeness stemmed from their fear.

  Natasha’s and Cressida’s parents had gone home. They’d be kept up to date by the family liaison officers but would be spared the stress of the investigation and the search.

  Karen started to approach Stuart Blythe and his parents when she noticed Ella was watching someone intently. Sat in the corner of the room alone, her wide pale eyes were focused on Ethan. Was there a romantic involvement there, at least on Ella’s part?

  But the way Ella was watching Ethan didn’t make Karen think she had a crush. It was more like Ella was looking at a specimen under a microscope. She wasn’t gazing adoringly at him. She was observing. The thought gave Karen a chill, but she wasn’t sure why.

  She forced her attention away from Ella and moved towards Stuart, who was sitting in the opposite corner of the room with his parents. As she approached him, she passed Ethan and took a moment to pause by his chair.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  Ethan jerked his chin up and glared at her. ‘Of course.’

  ‘You look a bit upset. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?’

  Now that Karen had walked into the centre of the library, the parents and other students noticed her. A hush fell over the room and most people turned to look. One lad sitting a few feet away straightened in his chair and pulled nervously at his collar.

  Colour rose in Ethan’s cheeks. ‘I’ve already told you everything,’ he said in a loud voice. ‘There’s nothing else. Why don’t you leave me alone?’ He thrust up from the chair and stormed out of the library.

  Karen watched him calmly. Was that a show for his fellow students or did the police presence here make him uneasy? If he was nervous, the question was: why? Was he scared he’d be caught out or was he simply upset about Natasha and Cressida’s disappearance?

  She headed over to Stuart. ‘We’d like to talk to you next, Stuart, if that’s okay?’ She smiled at Lord and Lady Blythe and was met with stony expressions.

  ‘About time,’ Stuart’s father grumbled. ‘We really need to get back before rush hour.’

  Karen didn’t respond but looked expectantly at Stuart, who got to his feet.

  His mother grabbed his hand. ‘Would you like us to come in with you, darling?’

  ‘No, thank you, Mother. I’ll be fine on my own.’ Stuart gave a stiff nod, which seemed an unusually formal way to respond to a parent.

  ‘Don’t worry, darling. We’re here if you need anything.’ She patted his hand.

  He followed Karen out of the library, and as soon as they were through the door and into the corridor, he turned to her. ‘I’m so glad you picked me next, Detective.’

  Karen nodded as she led him to Doyle’s office. ‘Yes, I know. Your parents are very eager to get you home.’

  ‘No, that’s not what I meant at all. I’m glad you picked me because I’ve got something to tell you about Cressida and Natasha.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Karen slowed and turned to look at Stuart Blythe. In the dim light, the shadows under his eyes and cheekbones made him look gaunt, older. ‘What do you have to tell us, Stuart?’

  Stuart looked over his shoulder, agitated. ‘I’d prefer to wait until we’re inside the office to talk if you don’t mind. I don’t want to be overheard.’

  Karen was intrigued. ‘All right. No problem.’

  She ushered him along to Doyle’s office, then shut the door behind them.

  Morgan looked up, surprised that Karen was staying for the interview and not going ahead and starting to search the house as they’d previously discussed. But the search could wait for now. Karen wanted to know what Stuart could tell them.

  She pulled out a chair for him in front of the desk and then sat down beside him. Morgan remained sitting behind the desk.

  ‘Stuart has some information for us,’ she said.

  ‘I see,’ Morgan said. ‘And what’s that, Stuart?’

  Stuart licked his lips and looked directly at Morgan. His freckled face flushed.

  ‘They were taking drugs,’ he said.

  Both Karen and Morgan paused while they digested this information. There had been no indication that either girl had been taking drugs, especially not Natasha. Her parents seemed very strict and kept an eye on her.

  ‘What sort of drugs?’ Karen asked.

  ‘I saw them smoking weed just this week,’ he said in a disapproving tone.

  ‘Was it only weed or something harder?’ Morgan asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I only saw them smoking weed.’

  ‘Do you know who they got it from? Was it another student on the course?’ Karen asked.

  Stuart folded his arms across his chest. ‘No; I’m not sure. They thought a lot of themselves though. They brought it down to the library and got some of the other students to go outside with them to smoke it. They thought it was funny, doing it under Doyle’s nose.’

  ‘Who were the other students with them?’ Karen asked.

  ‘I’d rather not say,’ Stuart said. ‘I mean, I’m only telling you this because it could be important, but I don’t want to get anyone else into trouble.’

  ‘This is a serious situation, Stuart. We need to know who the other students were, so we can speak to them and find out if they know where Cressida and Natasha got the weed.’

  Stuart thought about that for a minute.

  Neither Karen nor Morgan pushed. They needed him to feel like he was in control – that he was volunteering information. If they pressed too hard, he might clam up. Perhaps Natasha and Cressida had been selling the weed to others. Rich students were ideal customers. If they’d been supplying other drugs, perhaps they’d got mixed up in something. Maybe they’d crossed a dealer who wasn’t keen on two posh girls encroaching on his turf.

  But if they were just smoking some weed, it could be a false lead. It wasn’t unusual for teenagers to experiment. Still, they couldn’t ignore it.

  Finally, Stuart spoke again. ‘I think it was Robert Carthey and Ethan Grayson.’

  Morgan raised an eyebrow. ‘Ethan Grayson. The chief constable’s son?
’

  Well, that certainly complicated things.

  Stuart nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right. You won’t tell them I said anything, will you? I don’t approve of it, but I don’t want them to think I’m a snitch.’

  ‘We’ll do our best to keep your name out of it, Stuart,’ Karen said. ‘We’re going to search Chidlow House. Do I have your permission to search your room?’

  Stuart gave the same oddly formal, stiff nod he’d given to his mother earlier. ‘Of course, I have nothing to hide.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll leave you with DI Morgan now.’

  After Karen left the room she went in search of Doyle and the master keys. She had Stuart and Ella’s permission to search their rooms, so she’d start with them.

  She couldn’t find Doyle anywhere, but the master keys were lying on the reception desk. She picked them up and asked the PC on the door to let Doyle know she’d taken them when he returned.

  Heading up the sweeping wooden staircase, she noted how quiet it was on this side of the house, away from the hustle and bustle of the library and the angry voices. The steps creaked beneath her feet. The portraits on the walls made her feel as though she were being watched. Their beady eyes seemed to follow her.

  Chidlow House was the perfect setting for a ghost story. Karen understood why Alison King would have been spooked.

  She glanced at the portraits as she passed, trying to spot a family resemblance to Chidlow. Most of the male subjects in the paintings were bloated and overweight, probably due to an excess of good living. All had proud and haughty expressions, so she supposed they had that in common with Edward Chidlow. The women were different: slender to the point of illness. Hollow-cheeked and pale with dark circles beneath their eyes. Their faces looked haunted, not helped by the cold palette of colours used and the harsh brushstrokes. The painters could have displayed the females in a more flattering light.

  She made it up to the first floor and tried to remember which one was Ella Seaton’s room. She was pretty sure Doyle had said it was room seven, the one next to the shared bathroom. She found the bathroom easily enough because it had an image of a brass lady in old-fashioned clothes on the door.