On Cold Ground (Detective Karen Hart) Read online

  ‘All right. Thanks, Tim. If you could ask Raj to give me a ring when he has a chance, I’d appreciate it.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Karen hung up and pushed back from the desk. By keeping herself busy, she was avoiding dwelling on the fact that DCI Churchill would be here in a matter of hours.

  How could she work with him after what Alice had said? How could she trust him?

  But she didn’t have a choice. Besides, Alice was disturbed. She could have her facts confused. She’d admitted as much herself when Karen had asked more questions about the DCI.

  She glanced at the time. DCI Churchill and his team wouldn’t be here until lunchtime, and Karen didn’t want to sit around waiting for instructions for the next few hours. Not when she knew exactly what should be done.

  They needed to pay another visit to Beverley Nelson and ask about the domestic violence claim in the letter.

  Karen grabbed her handbag and jacket and walked over to Sophie, who had her head bent over her desk, scanning witness statements.

  ‘I was just checking for something we might have missed,’ Sophie said, lifting one of the sheets as Karen stopped beside her desk.

  ‘Get your coat,’ Karen said. ‘We’re going to talk to Beverley Nelson again.’

  Sophie’s mouth formed a small o, but she didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘But aren’t we supposed to wait for the new DCI?’

  ‘He won’t be here for a couple of hours yet. There’s no point sitting around twiddling our thumbs.’

  ‘But DI Morgan said—’

  ‘Right. I know Morgan technically is no longer in charge, DCI Churchill is, but we know we need to speak to Beverley Nelson about the letter. We don’t need a new DCI to tell us that, do we? I’ve got a copy of the note. DI Morgan has entered it into the evidence database. We need to find out if Lloyd Nelson was violent towards Beverley or the children.’

  Sophie nodded but didn’t seem convinced.

  ‘Look at it this way – by the time DCI Churchill arrives, we’ll have seen Beverley, and we’ll be able to tell him what we’ve found out. You want to impress the new DCI, don’t you?’

  Sophie brightened. ‘Good idea,’ she said, shutting down her computer and then snatching up her coat.

  As they were walking to the car, Karen told Sophie she’d been to see Harinder, and he’d offered to install a camera at Morgan’s house.

  ‘Oh, you should have told me,’ Sophie said. ‘I could have asked him.’

  ‘Well, it’s done now. Why did you want to ask him?’

  Sophie’s usually pink cheeks turned even pinker, and she busied herself doing up the buttons of her red coat. ‘I just thought it would save you a job. I don’t mind going to see him. I find him interesting.’

  ‘So do I. I don’t understand most of what he says when he gets going on his favourite tech subjects though.’

  Sophie smiled shyly. ‘He’s nice.’

  ‘He is,’ Karen agreed, pressing the fob and unlocking the car. ‘You sound like you’ve got a crush on him.’

  Sophie looked down, avoiding Karen’s gaze, and gave a little shrug. ‘Maybe a bit. Just like most of the female staff at the station.’

  ‘Probably some of the men as well,’ Karen said, as she got behind the wheel. Sophie sighed as she got in and buckled up. ‘Seriously, though, if you like him, I don’t think he’s seeing anyone. Why don’t you ask him out?’

  ‘A date?’ Sophie looked horrified.

  ‘Well, yes, why not?’

  ‘Like he’d say yes,’ she scoffed.

  ‘He might. You’ll never know if you don’t try.’

  ‘I do know.’

  ‘How?’

  Sophie gestured at herself. ‘Because I’m me and he’s him.’

  ‘That doesn’t make sense.’

  Sophie shifted to face Karen. ‘Harry’s clever, talented, and everyone likes him. I know what people think of me, Sarge. I’m annoying, a goody two shoes, the station swot.’

  Karen felt a pang of pity. ‘No one thinks that.’

  ‘They do,’ Sophie said as Karen reversed out of the parking spot. ‘Rick tells me so, frequently.’

  ‘That’s just Rick,’ Karen said gently. ‘He likes to tease. He doesn’t mean to hurt your feelings.’

  ‘I know. He just says what everyone else is thinking.’ Sophie stared forlornly out of the window.

  Karen wished they hadn’t drifted on to this topic, but Sophie needed reassurance. She worked hard and was eager to take on new tasks, but in many ways, she was still young and hadn’t yet developed the confidence she’d need to progress in her career.

  ‘We all have faults. Things that annoy other people. You have plenty of positive traits in your favour.’

  Sophie looked at her expectantly.

  Great. Now she was going to have to list them.

  ‘You’re one of the hardest workers I know. When it comes down to it, you’re loyal. They’re the two best traits a police officer can have.’

  Sophie glowed. ‘Thanks, Sarge.’

  Beverley Nelson opened the door. She wore no make-up, and her skin was blotchy, her eyes red.

  She didn’t speak when she saw them, just nodded and stood aside to let them enter.

  Like last time, she led them into the kitchen, and they sat at the table. After a few words of sympathy, Karen asked Beverley if she’d thought of anything that could help their investigation.

  ‘No. I would have called if I had.’ Beverley stared glumly down at the tabletop, picking at the skin around her nails.

  ‘We received some new information,’ Karen said carefully, not wanting to give Beverley false hope. Though at the moment, the woman didn’t seem concerned. She was lethargic, weary. It was almost as though she’d switched off the emotional part of her brain. Karen wondered if she had taken a sedative. ‘It’s information regarding you and Lloyd.’

  Beverley lifted her red-eyed gaze from the table. ‘What?’

  ‘A claim that Lloyd was violent towards you. Is that true?’ Karen asked.

  Beverley stared at her. ‘No, it is not.’ The lethargy was replaced by a sudden fit of anger. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘It was an anonymous tip-off.’

  ‘What a cowardly and despicable thing to say. Denigrating Lloyd’s memory in that way. He wasn’t violent ever.’

  ‘We understand it could be difficult to talk about,’ Sophie said. ‘It might not be something you want people to know.’

  Beverley’s eyes widened. ‘I am telling you, he never once raised his hand against me.’

  Karen took a deep breath before asking the next question. ‘What about the children?’

  Beverley looked at Sophie and then back at Karen, shaking her head. ‘I don’t believe this. You’re supposed to be catching Lloyd’s killer, and instead you’re spreading lies. Horrible lies. He’s a lovely man and would never hurt the children or me.’ She clenched her fists.

  ‘Are the children at school today?’ Karen asked, noticing that the house was quiet and there was no drone coming from the television in the living room, as it had been the last time she’d visited.

  ‘No, they’re upstairs. They’ve never seen me like this. I know it’s scaring them, but I can’t help it.’

  ‘They haven’t seen their father, Brett?’ Karen asked.

  ‘No – why? Do you think it’s a good idea to get them out of the house, away from this?’ She gestured around the kitchen and then at herself. ‘They don’t deserve this. Maybe I should call him.’

  The last thing Karen wanted was for Beverley to pack the kids off to Brett’s for a week and then not be able to get them back. The woman had been through enough. ‘It’s possible Brett might try to gain temporary custody.’

  It was hard to see children pushed and pulled between parents. Even normal, level-headed people could go crazy during custody disputes. The person they’d once cared about enough to have children with was suddenly seen as the enemy.

  Beverley’
s face paled. She swore under her breath. ‘He wouldn’t.’

  ‘He might not, but I thought you should know,’ Karen said.

  Beverley dissolved into tears. ‘It’s been awful since we divorced. We’ve constantly been arguing, always over the kids. And they don’t deserve it.’

  Sophie handed her a tissue, and Beverley dabbed away her tears.

  ‘I know this is incredibly difficult, and I’m going to do my best to protect your privacy,’ Karen said, though she knew if the press got hold of the fact a murder victim had been mutilated in the cathedral it would be splashed all over the local and national news. So far, she’d seen the death reported in one of the local papers, but it didn’t name the victim and suggested the cause of death was a heart attack. But things had a way of getting out. They wouldn’t be able to keep the press away for long.

  ‘I am going to ask again, and I know that you’re going to find it insulting, but it’s my job to ask.’

  Beverley held the tissue to her cheek. ‘All right.’

  ‘I need you to be completely honest with me,’ Karen said, meeting Beverley’s tearful gaze. ‘Was Lloyd ever abusive to you or your children, or anyone else?’

  Beverley’s lips pursed in a thin line, and she shook her head firmly. ‘No. Never. He was a gentleman. I promise you, I am telling you the truth. I’m not sure why anyone would say such a thing, but it’s not true.’

  ‘Thank you for being honest, and I’m sorry I have to ask these difficult questions. Unfortunately, I do have one more to ask. Was Lloyd in financial trouble? I specifically want to know if he’d taken any money from his employer?’

  Beverley looked blindsided by the question. She stared blankly at Karen for a moment and then said, ‘No. I mean, we did have a few money troubles. Nothing we couldn’t handle, but to be honest, it did cause a bit of tension between us.’ She began to pick at the raw red skin around her fingernails again. ‘Lloyd enjoyed betting. He wasn’t as bad as some. He didn’t place thousands on a bet in one go or anything like that, but it did put a dent in our monthly income. You probably saw the payments to the betting apps on the bank statements I gave you.’

  Bev looked at Sophie, who nodded.

  ‘Well, I didn’t like it, of course,’ Beverley continued. ‘And we did have words. But he wasn’t a thief. He wouldn’t have stolen money. If he had, I would have seen it going to the bank account. We were barely covering the mortgage and our bills.’ She looked beseechingly at Karen. ‘You have to believe me. He didn’t steal any money. He wouldn’t.’

  ‘Okay. When did you first realise Lloyd had a betting problem?’ Karen asked.

  ‘It was just after we got married,’ Beverley said. ‘It came as a bit of a shock. I thought he was Mr Perfect, but the gambling was an addiction. We talked about him going into a programme, but he would always back out and say he didn’t have a real problem, that it was all just a bit of fun.’

  She hesitated, and Karen got the sense she wanted to say more.

  Karen leaned forward and reached out to put a hand over Beverley’s. ‘I know this is really hard. But it’s helpful. It could help us find the person who killed Lloyd.’

  ‘You think he owed money to someone, don’t you? Some kind of violent loan shark?’

  ‘Did he?’

  Beverley’s eyes filled with tears again. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so.’ She sniffed. ‘We argued on Friday. He wanted to go and place a bet, and I was furious. He took my car to drive to a betting shop in Hykeham. If the kids hadn’t been here . . . I think I would have dragged him from the car.’ She pressed the tissue to her eyes. ‘I was so angry with him. I wouldn’t talk to him when he got home. Or the following morning when he said he was going into Lincoln, shopping. I ignored him. I wasn’t ready to forgive him yet. So we didn’t talk. And then you came to the door and . . . I knew he died thinking I was still angry . . .’

  She broke off and dissolved into more tears.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  By the time Karen and Sophie got back to the station, Churchill and his team had arrived. Sophie had stopped off at the canteen to grab a sandwich, so Karen walked into the open-plan office alone. She immediately noticed the new arrivals standing near her desk. Rather than step up and introduce herself, she stopped and observed.

  The three new detectives were talking to Morgan. She read their body language – all four were tense, though she was probably the only one who’d notice Morgan’s discomfort.

  She recognised DCI Churchill from his picture on the Boston Police website. Charles Churchill, aged thirty-nine, never married, no kids. He had dark hair and a sulky face. Perhaps that was unnecessarily harsh. Karen could be projecting her feelings on to him. A bit unfair, perhaps.

  He was tall, as tall as Morgan, and had his hair styled in a way that probably meant he spent a lot of money on styling products. She imagined him preening in front of the bathroom mirror every morning to make sure his hair looked just right.

  His navy suit fit his slim build well, and his shirt was so brilliantly white it had to be brand new. Obviously a man who cared about his appearance.

  The man standing on his left clearly didn’t. His brown suit was so crumpled it looked like he’d slept in it. The jacket didn’t quite close over his ample stomach, so he’d left it open. His trousers were an inch or so too short, exposing his scuffed brown shoes. He smiled at something Morgan said and pushed back his thinning grey hair.

  The third man was younger, fresh-faced. Short, tousled mousy-brown hair, and quieter than the other two. He wasn’t part of the conversation but was listening attentively. His grey suit was smart but looked lived-in.

  She approached them, smiling. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Ah, Karen, this is DCI Churchill,’ Morgan said, then turned to the old man in the scruffy suit. ‘This is DS Arnie Hodgson, and this,’ he said, turning to the youngest detective, ‘is DC Leo Clinton.’

  Churchill turned to Karen. ‘Nice to meet you, DS Hart.’ His smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Weren’t you told when we’d be arriving?’

  Ah, so it’s going to be like this, is it? Karen thought. The passive-aggressive approach. He wouldn’t just come out and ask why she hadn’t waited around for him.

  ‘We knew you’d be a couple of hours and didn’t think it would be a good idea to pause the investigation for that long.’ Karen matched his false smile.

  Churchill arched an eyebrow. ‘We should get the briefing underway. I take it you at least booked us a meeting room?’

  ‘Yes,’ Karen said. ‘Meeting room three. It’s just along the corridor. This way.’

  When Morgan went to follow them, Churchill stopped him. ‘I’m sure DS Hart can handle the handover. No need to take you from your work. Superintendent Murray said you were very busy.’

  Morgan glanced at Karen.

  ‘No problem,’ she said. ‘Can you send Sophie along when you see her?’

  Karen grabbed some paperwork from her desk, and they left Morgan behind and headed to the meeting room.

  When they were seated around the huge table, Churchill looked at Karen. ‘Why don’t you fill us in on what you know so far?’

  Karen did so. She told them about the murder, the markings on the victim’s forehead. She briefly described the suspects and their interviews, and then told them about the letter that had been pushed through Morgan’s letterbox that morning. The atmosphere changed when Karen mentioned the letter. One of their own had been singled out.

  After a brief pause, Churchill voiced the question they were all wondering about. ‘Why DI Morgan?’

  ‘We don’t know.’

  ‘He really has no idea?’

  Karen shook her head.

  Churchill tugged at his collar and leaned back in his chair. ‘I don’t like it.’

  ‘We thought going through his old files might provide some clues,’ Karen suggested. ‘Probably the best way forward.’ Then she said, ‘DC Jones and I went to visit Beverley Nelson again this morning, and asked
her about the claims of domestic violence in the letter. She vehemently denied Lloyd was ever violent to her or her children or anyone else she knows.’

  Churchill nodded thoughtfully, but before he could say anything, there was a knock.

  Sophie poked her head around the door.

  ‘Sorry I’m late.’ She slid into the chair beside Karen.

  ‘DC Sophie Jones?’ Churchill asked, fixing her with an unfriendly stare.

  Sophie nodded and put the file she’d brought with her on the table.

  ‘We haven’t worked together before, so I’ll give you a pass this time,’ he continued. ‘I do not appreciate lateness. And while you’re working in my team, you’ll be on time, understood?’

  Sophie’s cheeks flamed red. ‘But I didn’t even know you were having a meeting.’

  ‘You were late,’ Churchill said simply. ‘Don’t let it happen again.’

  ‘But technically I wasn’t late because I didn’t know—’

  ‘You apologised for being late. It was the first thing you said.’

  ‘Well, yes, but—’

  Churchill put up his hand. ‘Don’t make it worse, DC Jones.’ He turned back to Karen. ‘Please continue.’

  Sophie’s face was scarlet. She wanted to be liked, to impress her bosses. She was humiliated. Karen tried to swallow her anger and move on, but Sophie’s bowed head and her dejected expression made Karen say, ‘It wasn’t Sophie’s fault. Perhaps, in future, you should send a memo and make sure everyone is aware of the place and time of the meeting.’

  There was silence in the room. Yes, she was goading him. Yes, it would have been easier to let it go, but he was being unfair.

  ‘I’m not an admin assistant,’ Churchill said coldly. He turned to DC Clinton. ‘Leo, you’ll be in charge of arranging meetings in the future.’

  ‘Of course,’ Leo said smoothly.

  DS Arnie Hodgson looked very amused by the whole exchange.

  ‘I’ve told you everything we know so far,’ Karen said. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Time was ticking away. ‘I was planning to speak with Ross Blundell again and ask him whether the embezzlement claims against Lloyd were true. Perhaps you could go over the files and get up to date while DC Jones and I visit him.’