House of Lies (Detective Karen Hart) Page 8

  Inside, the bathroom was huge and draughty. There were three toilet cubicles on the left of the room. The toilets had elevated cisterns and chain flushes. There was a separate shower enclosure, which looked more modern than the other fittings, and a large enamel bath in the centre of the room. On the right, there was an old-fashioned washstand with a large mirror attached to the wall tiles.

  A big free-standing cupboard stood near the window, but it was locked. None of the keys on Doyle’s set fitted the small lock. It was probably full of supplies: toilet rolls, cleaning products, nothing of any importance. But she’d need to find the key eventually if she wanted to complete a thorough search.

  Karen shut the door and prepared to move on to the next room. Number seven was on the left of the bathroom, but on the other side was a door with no number. It was the only one in the hallway without one. Karen was intrigued. She tested each and every key on the keyring, but none fitted. She gave a frustrated sigh. She really wasn’t having much luck with locks today.

  She moved on to room seven, Ella’s room. This time she found the key helpfully labelled and it turned smoothly in the lock.

  Ella’s room was neat and tidy. She had the same style of desk beneath the window as in Natasha and Cressida’s rooms. Her notebooks and textbooks were carefully stacked in piles, an elegant, silver fountain pen beside them. The pen and a red pencil case were the only personal things visible in the room. There was no jewellery or makeup.

  Karen put the large bunch of keys on top of the dresser, pulled on gloves and made her way around the room. She found a bible in the top drawer of the nightstand and flicked through it looking for hidden notes or receipts, but found nothing. The wardrobe contained only one pair of brown slip-on shoes, one long black coat and a variety of baggy jumpers and loose-fitting shirts. The lower drawers in the dresser contained folded jeans and a pair of fleece pyjamas decorated with penguins. The top drawer contained underwear and nothing else.

  Karen checked beneath the mattress and under the bed and pulled out a small suitcase and a carryall that had been stashed away from sight. Feeling hopeful, she opened them, but both were empty. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find but there was something about Ella Seaton that made Karen think there was more to the girl than met the eye. She came across as very shy and unassuming, but when they’d talked to her, she’d spoken confidently and formally, an unusual combination for a teenage girl.

  Karen stood up, brushed some fluff from her trousers and turned towards the window. A movement outside caught her eye. At first, she thought it was someone from the search party but then realised it was a man approaching the house. She moved closer, leaning on the desk to get a better view, and saw it was the groundsman again.

  She was about to pull back when he looked straight up, directly at her. The rain was only a fine mist, so she could see him clearly, and could have sworn he was scowling at her.

  ‘Not exactly a cheerful chap,’ she murmured, wondering whether Rick or Sophie had unearthed any information on the staff at Chidlow House.

  She was particularly interested to see what they dug up on Mike Harrington.

  As she shifted away from the window, her foot caught the dark pink velvet drape. The drapes were heavy, but this one seemed even weightier than usual and there was a clunk as it moved back. It wasn’t the sound of soft velvet brushing against the wall, but something hard, something solid.

  Karen kneeled down, feeling the bottom of the material. Her fingers located something thin, rectangular and hard. Turning the drape she saw the hem had been unpicked, leaving loose threads and a little pocket. She put her hand inside and located something cold and metallic.

  She pulled it from its hiding place. It was a phone. Karen frowned. How strange. Why would Ella hide her phone here? Why wouldn’t she have it on her like all the other students? They’d all had their electronic devices gripped in their hands when Karen had entered the library, as had most of the parents. But Ella hadn’t been holding a phone. She’d been sitting, hands in her lap, watching Ethan.

  And why did she tell Karen she didn’t have one? Had she gone behind her parents’ backs to get it? Or did the phone belong to someone else?

  Karen tapped the phone and the screen lit up. Ella’s face was on the home screen, but it was locked with a code so Karen couldn’t access anything.

  Ella was pulling a goofy face in the picture, and it made Karen smile and remember that though these students tried so hard to be seen as grown-ups, underneath it all they still had very childish tendencies.

  The snap reminded Karen of her own daughter. She’d had a tendency to pull faces when Karen tried to take a photo. She didn’t have many of Tilly just smiling. Most of them were shots of her with her tongue poking out or pulling a silly face. They were Karen’s favourite pictures, though. The ones that showed the true Tilly. Videos were even better. She had one stored on her phone, just a short clip of Tilly talking to her teddy bear. She’d read somewhere that one of the first memories to fade was the sound of a loved one’s voice. Karen couldn’t bear the thought of that.

  She realised she was gripping the phone so tightly the button on the side was digging into her palm. She relaxed her hand and put the phone back where she’d found it, still wondering why Ella had kept it there. Perhaps she was worried about the phone being stolen.

  She decided to ask Ella about it later and pushed to her feet. Then she froze. She could hear whispering, coming from outside. Karen moved swiftly, grabbing the key ring as she passed the dresser and heading out into the corridor. The noises were louder there – definite whispering, and was that the sound of dripping water?

  The whispers were unnerving enough, but the steady dripping noise made Karen’s throat grow dry. She pulled Ella’s door shut, locked it and then turned right.

  ‘Is anyone there?’

  At the end of the corridor, she saw a blur of colour. Someone was there, moving quickly towards the stairs.

  Karen followed, turning the corner, but when she reached the staircase it was empty. There was no one on this floor. Unless they’d gone into one of the bedrooms. She turned around in a circle, staring at the row of doors. She hadn’t heard a door open or shut.

  She was still staring back at the hallway when the sound of creaking on the stairs made her jump and whirl around. She peered over the banister.

  Her heart was thumping. She could easily see why the students referred to the house as haunted and why Alison King had found the place creepy.

  But there was no ghostly apparition, just the solid figure of Graham Doyle climbing the stairs from the ground floor.

  ‘Do you hear that?’ Karen asked, but the sounds had stopped.

  Doyle paused, cocked his head to one side, listening. ‘Hear what?’

  Karen let out a long breath. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Oh, don’t tell me you’re hearing the noises as well. That doesn’t bode well . . .’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Karen asked.

  ‘Well, Miss King heard the noises. Legend has it that Edward Chidlow’s great-great-grandmother drowned herself in the lake and her spirit haunts the house. If you hear or see her, it’s very bad luck. As poor Miss King discovered.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Karen eyed him with suspicion.

  He flushed. ‘I don’t believe it, of course. I was just telling you about how the ghost story came about.’

  Karen held up the bunch of keys. ‘I took the keys from the reception desk. I’m planning to search all the student rooms now. I’ve just done Ella Seaton’s. I’m going to head upstairs and do the boys’ floor next. Can you inform the parents and get their permission?’

  Doyle closed his eyes. ‘That’s just how I wanted to spend my afternoon,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I’m sure the parents will be thrilled.’

  ‘Just tell them it could help find Natasha and Cressida. That’s all that matters at the moment.’

  ‘I hope they see it like that,’ Doyle said, turning around
to go back downstairs.

  ‘Which number is Robert Carthey’s room?’

  ‘Oh.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Number twenty-two, I think.’

  ‘Thanks. Did I interrupt you?’ Karen asked.

  ‘What?’ He turned.

  ‘You were coming upstairs.’

  ‘Oh . . . I . . . I forgot what I was going upstairs for, actually. Can’t have been important.’

  He gave her a nervous smile before continuing his descent.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Karen wanted to check the room used by Robert Carthey, the lad who’d been smoking weed with Ethan, Natasha and Cressida, next. She suspected Robert was the young man who’d been nervously yanking his collar and sending worried glances her way when she’d spoken to Ethan earlier.

  She liked to think she was good at reading people, particularly picking up on the small signs people displayed when they were trying to hide something, but in this case, anyone would have picked up on his unease. Robert definitely wouldn’t make a good poker player.

  She waited by the locked door of room twenty-two, listening for more of the whispering, but the hallway was quiet. The only sound was the rasping and gurgling of the old heating system kicking in.

  Karen unlocked the door. It creaked open, and she was immediately greeted by the green, ripe smell of cannabis. It was faint but definitely noticeable, lingering in the air.

  She didn’t know if Robert had hidden the weed in his room, but someone had definitely been smoking in there recently. She put the set of keys down on the dresser, pulled on gloves and looked around.

  Now, if I was a teenage boy, where would I hide my stash? she wondered as she walked slowly around the bed.

  She checked the bedside cabinet first but found only a small red bible. Next, she turned her attention to the large chest of drawers. The top drawers contained underwear and T-shirts. The drawer beneath that contained wool jumpers and then . . . jackpot!

  Karen’s fingers closed around a small plastic bag. She pulled it out and smiled. One small bag of weed.

  She began to remove the jumpers one at a time from the drawer, to make sure she didn’t miss anything else. And there, right at the back, tucked under a green cashmere jumper, was a ready-rolled spliff. She plucked that out of the drawer and set it beside the bag of weed on top of the dresser.

  Before she could remove another item of clothing from the drawer, there was a knock at the door. She opened it to find Doyle standing there, along with the young lad and his parents. Robert looked terrified, his parents looked angry and Doyle looked distressed.

  ‘I’m sorry, Detective, but Robert’s parents aren’t happy for you to look through his belongings. They say it’s an invasion of his privacy, and you need to speak to their lawyer before you perform any kind of search.’

  Karen looked at Robert. ‘Worried I might find something?’

  Robert shook his head. ‘Um . . . no . . . nothing like that. I just . . . I don’t want you snooping.’

  ‘In case I find this?’ Karen enquired, gesturing and opening the door wider so they could all see the bag of weed and the spliff sitting on top of the dresser.

  ‘Stupid boy!’ Robert’s father yelled, and his mother covered her face with her hands and groaned.

  ‘It just helps me relax. Gets me in the zone to study,’ Robert protested. ‘It’s only for personal use. It should be legal anyway. It is in Amsterdam.’

  ‘But we’re not in Amsterdam at the moment, Robert,’ Karen said. ‘Tell me, did you share this with Cressida and Natasha?’

  Robert’s jaw dropped open. ‘Well, I—’

  ‘Don’t answer the question, you stupid boy,’ his father said, grabbing Robert by the shoulders and giving him a stern shake.

  ‘He didn’t mean it,’ Mrs Carthey said, looking at Karen pleadingly. ‘He’s easily led. Surely you can turn a blind eye just this once? This could ruin his future!’

  ‘The police won’t be taking this any further, will you?’ Mr Carthey said coldly, letting go of Robert. ‘He’s just a boy. Made a stupid mistake, of course, but I mean you can hardly press charges when he’s been smoking with the chief constable’s son, can you?’

  Mr Carthey stared at Karen with a nasty gleam in his eyes and a smug smile on his face.

  Karen understood parents would always try to protect their children, but this was going too far, and she particularly hated the point he made about the chief constable. She wanted John Grayson to be incorruptible. The fact that his son was involved shouldn’t matter. Both boys should be reprimanded, though their punishment would be little more than a black mark against their names for possession. It would serve as a warning for the future and teach them they couldn’t break the law and expect to get away with it.

  Robert looked miserably down at his feet.

  It would be easy to agree to forget about the drugs. It was only weed, and lots of kids dabbled in softer drugs and didn’t get hooked or end up on the streets. But could she live with herself if she did that? She wanted to root out corruption in the Lincolnshire force and yet here she was considering letting this lad off with a warning to save complications.

  There was also a chance this could have something to do with Cressida and Natasha’s disappearance. So Karen would have to include this in the official report, even if she made an enemy of the chief constable.

  ‘Can you tell me where you got the drugs from?’

  Robert turned to his father. ‘Do I have to tell her that?’

  ‘No, you don’t have to say anything.’

  ‘If you don’t, then perhaps I’ll have to look on you as the one who’s been supplying the drugs to your fellow students. Dealing drugs is seen very differently to possession in the eyes of the law.’

  Robert paled. ‘But I . . . I just let them have a smoke because we’re friends. I wasn’t selling it to them. I’m not a drug dealer.’

  ‘Well, it sounds to me like you are, unless you can tell me who supplied the drugs.’

  ‘It was my brother,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where he got them, just someone at his university.’

  His father bellowed in outrage and ordered Robert to keep quiet. The boy lowered his head.

  ‘Please, Detective,’ Robert’s mother said. ‘I know he’s been an idiot, but he’s not a bad lad really, and I know he hasn’t got anything to do with the girls’ disappearance. If he had he would tell you, wouldn’t you, Robert?’

  Robert nodded solemnly. ‘I would. I really don’t know what happened to them. I wish I did. They were nice. I liked them. We had a laugh.’

  ‘Did you know them before the course?’ Karen asked.

  He shook his head. ‘No, we met here.’

  ‘And Ethan?’

  ‘I met him here as well. I didn’t know anyone here before. I had to come because my grades have been so bad, and my mum wants me to go to the same university as my brother.’

  ‘Did you see them leave last night?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t. I was up here.’

  ‘What were you doing?’

  ‘Trying to study,’ he said. ‘None of this stuff makes sense to me. It seems like it takes me twice as long as everyone else to soak up the material. And that’s why I was smoking, you know. It helps me retain information.’

  ‘That’s odd. I think most scientific studies on cannabis show the opposite effect,’ Karen said.

  Robert flushed again. ‘All right. It’s just because it helps me relax. It’s so stressful feeling like an idiot all the time. Everybody else catches on much quicker than I do. I’m not really academic.’

  ‘Yes, you are, Robert. You just need to knuckle down and concentrate,’ his mother said.

  ‘Yeah, right.’ He rolled his eyes.

  ‘Let’s go downstairs and you can talk to Detective Inspector Morgan about this,’ Karen said.

  ‘Will that be the end of the incident?’ Mr Carthey asked hopefully.

  ‘I doubt it,’ Karen said.

  ‘Wel
l, if Robert is charged then I’m going to make sure the chief constable’s son is as well,’ he said irritably, and stomped out of Robert’s room.

  Morgan hung up the phone and frowned. He’d just been speaking to the superintendent.

  Usually she was content with phone updates from Morgan during an investigation, but she’d asked for Karen to return to the station as soon as possible to brief her on developments – and that was odd.

  In the past, they’d followed the normal chain of command, and Morgan liaised with the superintendent directly. He wondered why she wanted to speak to Karen in person. Was it simply that she wanted to be brought up to date, or was there more to it?

  Only a few minutes ago, he’d finished his interview with Robert Carthey. So far, he couldn’t see any links between Robert and Natasha or Cressida, other than the fact they’d shared a joint a couple of times during the study week. Robert insisted he’d got his weed from his brother, and neither girl had asked him where he’d got it from or met his brother or his brother’s dealer. It had seemed like a promising lead at first, but it was rapidly fizzling out.

  It amazed Morgan that someone with so much money, so many opportunities, would risk their future.

  People didn’t see cannabis as a serious drug. He knew a couple of his fellow officers had partaken in an occasional joint before joining the force. It had been shown to improve symptoms for a number of medical conditions, so it was understandable people took a lenient view.

  But when Robert had admitted his brother wasn’t only using weed, Morgan had warned Robert of the risks involved, the possibility that cannabis could lead to harder drugs and that a criminal record could ruin his prospects. He wasn’t sure if his well-worn speech had connected with Robert, but the boy did seem genuinely remorseful.

  Despite all his advantages and money, at the end of the day he was still a teenager, trying to find his way in life and more often than not messing things up.

  Morgan stood up and put his mobile in his pocket, intending to look for Karen. She’d returned to the second floor to carry on searching, so he should be able to find her up there. He walked towards the back of the house and the large staircase that led up to the students’ rooms.