The Girl in the Grave: An unputdownable crime thriller with nail-biting suspense

by Helen Phifer

  Tipping the contents of her tea onto a plate, she took a fork from the drawer and refilled her wine glass. Why on earth would she ring him? She wasn’t that bloody needy. The voice in her head whispered back, are you sure about that?

  Sixteen

  Estelle Carter drank champagne as if it was going out of fashion. She was on the third bottle and knew she could manage at least another four glasses before passing out. Daddy had taught her well; he’d always thrown lavish parties with never-ending supplies of alcohol. He’d always encouraged her to drink, told her he didn’t think it would hurt her to get used to it. She had never complained. The only thing now was it took an astounding volume of the stuff to actually get her drunk. She looked around at her friends; they were definitely drunk and being very loud. If it wasn’t for the fact that her dad owned the hotel and the adjoining nightclub they were now sitting in, the bouncers would have thrown them out hours ago. They didn’t dare: she would have them sacked before they’d made it home. When her dad had suggested she learn how to run the hotel she had told him absolutely not, and that had been the only time they’d ever had a serious argument; so serious that he’d threatened to cut her out of his will and stop supplying her with endless cash to spend on anything she wanted. In the words of her friend Annie, Estelle had to suck it up and do as she was told.

  Estelle loved Annie; she was so down to earth and very funny. She didn’t care that Estelle had more money than she knew what to do with, even though she had very little herself. Annie worked as a general assistant in the hotel and lived in one of the poky staff bedrooms down in the basement. The first time they met, Estelle was mid-rant with the housekeeping staff about a complaint that there was dust under the beds, and Annie had interrupted Estelle’s tirade with a clever quip about needing to feed the staff spinach every morning if she wanted them to have the strength to move four-poster beds. Estelle, not used to being talked back to, had relished the confrontation. They’d been inseparable ever since, much to her daddy’s dislike.

  Estelle looked over at Annie now to see her face had turned a strange shade of grey. ‘Are you okay?’

  Annie shook her head; trying to stand up, she managed to lurch forward and knock the ice bucket, champagne and glasses flying. The bouncers came rushing over to help Estelle hold her up.

  ‘We need to get her to her room,’ she shouted across at the man who’d left his drink on the bar and rushed over to assist.

  He smiled, nodding his head.

  ‘Of course, is it far?’

  ‘No, just downstairs. Can you help me? She’s too drunk to walk herself.’

  ‘Lead the way.’

  Between them they managed to get Annie out of the busy nightclub. As they stepped outside into the fresh air, Annie began to heave. Estelle looked horrified.

  ‘Shit, don’t you dare be sick on us. We’ll get you down to your room and you can puke in the toilet. OK?’

  Annie’s eyes rolled back. She opened her mouth to speak but was unable to form any intelligible words. All that came out was a mumbled mess of sound.

  ‘I’m really sorry about this.’ Estelle looked at the guy, who was doing a great job of holding her friend up. He was a lot older than the pair of them but good-looking in a Colin Firth kind of way. She wouldn’t say no, she thought, as she led them around the back of the hotel to the small set of steps down to the basement. It was a work of art getting Annie down there without letting go of her, and by the time they reached the bottom step both of them were out of breath.

  ‘I’m so sorry, this is my fault. I let her drink too much champagne. She’s going to kill me tomorrow.’

  He smiled. ‘I kind of think this is all her fault, not yours. I’m guessing you didn’t force her to drink?’

  She shook her head. ‘Of course not, she drank it herself. I just paid for it.’

  ‘Ah, the if-it’s-free-I’m-going-to-drink-it friend. We all have one of those. They just don’t know when to say stop, especially if they’re not paying for it. Do you often buy your friend’s champagne?’

  Her cheeks began to burn. ‘Not really; she’s worked really hard this week and I wanted to say thank you.’

  ‘Well it doesn’t look as if she’ll be working really hard tomorrow!’

  Estelle smiled as she opened the door, and they dragged Annie along the narrow corridor to her room. She rifled through her friend’s pockets until she found the key and unlocked the door. Between them they managed to get her onto the bed. Rolling Annie onto her side and propping pillows behind her back, Estelle disappeared then came back with a bucket which she placed by the side of the bed. Then they left her to it.

  Once they were back outside she thanked her helper again for coming to their rescue without a second thought.

  ‘It was no problem. Are you going to bed as well now?’

  Laughing, she shook her head. ‘No, I’m not tired.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good. Would you like to come and drink some champagne with me then?’

  Hesitating, she thought about it. She didn’t really want to go back inside the club: she was going to be in for a bollocking when the bouncers told her dad what had happened. She looked at him again; she’d always had a bit of a thing for heroes. Pushing her arm through his, she whispered, ‘I know a nice place we can go for a glass of champagne that’s a bit more private.’

  He bent down, his lips brushing the side of her cheek. ‘Lead the way, beautiful…’

  Seventeen

  Beth slept surprisingly well once she’d managed to actually switch her mind off and let it all go. When she opened her eyes it was hard to believe it was morning already. After a quick breakfast of toast and jam she set off on the drive to Barrow with a clear head.

  Abe was already in the mortuary by the time she had washed and scrubbed-up. The coffin was on the table and Beth had to admit it was a strange sight to see. An exhumation wasn’t something she dealt with very often; in fact, this was only her second in the seven years since she’d begun her training to be a forensic pathologist. Abe had a cordless drill ready to unscrew the coffin lid, but the moment the drill made contact with the wood, the door burst open and in rushed Carl from CSI.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, but Josh asked me to come and take photos. Just in case.’

  ‘Just in case, what?’

  ‘Well, I suppose in case there’s any connection to the body found underneath the coffin.’

  It hadn’t even crossed Beth’s mind that the two might be connected. She looked at Abe as a wave of terrible foreboding washed over her. What if he unscrewed the lid of the coffin to find no body in there? What if there were two bodies inside? Butterflies raced around in her stomach. It didn’t matter what was inside the coffin, it needed to be opened. If there were three, or even four bodies in there she would deal with them, one by one, methodically and with precision, because that was what she did.

  Abe patted her arm. ‘Beth, is everything okay? You look kind of…’

  She smiled at him. ‘I’m fine, thank you, Abe. I was just wondering what was going to happen if there was something in there that we weren’t anticipating.’

  He smiled at her. ‘I hope not.’

  ‘Right, then. Shall we begin?’ She looked at Carl, who was fiddling with his camera. Waiting for his reply.

  He looked up at her, flustered.

  ‘Sorry, Doc. What a morning. I hate having surprises sprung on me. I’m good to go when you are.’

  For a moment she wondered how he coped with his job if he didn’t like surprises; more often than not crimes occurred on the spur of the moment. She nodded at Abe, who began to remove the screws, while she did her best not to hold her breath. When the last screw came free she helped him to lift the lid.

  A sweet, sickly smell filled the room as she looked down at the body of Florence Wright; her face and hands were covered in mould, a natural occurrence in some bodies that had been buried. Carl gasped beside her, his camera poised.

  ‘What is that?’
<
br />   Beth said, ‘It’s because of the dampness in the soil. The amount of rain we’ve had the last few weeks makes it the perfect environment. If we lived in a much hotter, drier climate then there would be more slippage of the skin or even mummification. Eventually.’

  She wheeled the hoist over and between her and Abe they managed to roll Florence from side to side enough to wrap a sheet around her and slide the sling under her. They then hoisted her out of the coffin onto a waiting steel gurney. Thankfully, the body was fresh so it stayed in one piece: a few more weeks and it would have been a different story. God knows what they’d have done if her arm or leg had dropped off and gone sliding across the floor; poor Carl would have had a full-blown meltdown. Once the body was safely on the gurney, Beth wheeled her across to the X-ray machine. She wanted a full post-mortem examination: every single thing checked.

  Eighteen

  Estelle rushed into the hotel flushed and more than a little late; thankfully, she wasn’t duty manager today. At least not until twelve; she had a meeting at ten. Checking her watch, she realised she had nine minutes to grab a coffee and go up to the conference room to take some deep breaths. Up to now she’d managed to avoid answering the influx of angry text messages and calls from her dad. Last night, she’d taken the Mr Darcy lookalike back to her apartment which overlooked the marina, and what a night it had been. She was beyond exhausted and hungover this morning. At some point the champagne and tiredness had kicked in and she’d woken up thirty minutes ago, alone. Though relieved he’d left her without having to be shown the door, she wondered if she’d ever see him again. It didn’t matter to her one way or the other because she wasn’t looking for a serious relationship: what she was looking for was fun.

  Taking her coffee, she made it to the conference room just as the other attendees arrived and breathed a sigh of relief – she’d made it. Now all she had to do was sit through two hours of listening to the finance committee drone on and she was free. What it had to do with her was beyond her, but her dad had asked her to go and she needed to get on his good side after last night’s fiasco. As soon as this was over, she’d go and see how Annie was, make sure she was okay. That was what friends did, wasn’t it? It had been quite some time since she’d had one so close.

  Ninety minutes later, Estelle had lost the will to live. She finished her second cup of strong coffee then slid her phone under the table to text Annie for the fifth time:

  Hey, at least let me know you’re alive and didn’t choke on your vomit in your sleep.

  She put a row of laughing faces on the end of it, but deep down she was worried; normally Annie would text back within minutes, this wasn’t like her. Estelle was trying not to panic with all the different scenarios playing through her mind. What if she had choked and was lying there dead?

  Unable to take any more, she pushed her chair back and stood up. She had no idea what these suits were all talking about anyway.

  ‘I’m sorry. Please excuse me, I have to leave. I don’t feel very well.’

  She walked out of the room and didn’t look back. In all honesty she didn’t give a stuff what they were talking about. It meant nothing to her. All she cared about was making sure Annie was okay. Jogging towards the lift, Estelle jabbed the call button continuously until finally the lift doors slid open to reveal at least twenty Japanese tourists all chattering so loud she wanted to plug her ears with her fingers and shout at them to shut up. Squeezing in next to an elderly couple, the lift took an eternity to reach the ground floor. The doors opened and she stepped out first and spotted her dad hovering around by the reception desk. Ignoring his shouts, she headed out of the front door so she could run around to the rear of the hotel, where the main staff entrance was, knowing he wouldn’t follow her.

  Running down the concrete steps, she let herself in. Her heart was hammering so hard against her ribcage it occurred to her there was a chance she would either have a heart attack or throw up. As she reached the door to Annie’s room at the end of the corridor, she saw that it was ever so slightly ajar. Hammering on the wood, she pushed it open.

  ‘Sorry, but if you’re in no fit state to reply to a text message then I don’t care if you’re lying there stark naked.’

  She stepped into the darkened room and searched for the light switch, her fingers brushing against it as she pressed it down. Breathing out a sigh of relief at the empty bed in front of her, she noticed Annie’s phone was lying on it. No wonder she wasn’t answering her messages. The room had an ensuite, so she strode across to the door, knocked once then threw that open. But it was empty as well. The feeling of relief which engulfed her entire body was so overwhelming she felt her legs give way underneath her and she ended up collapsing to the floor. She had been so convinced something terrible had happened to her friend. Estelle hated being wrong, but on this occasion, she was happy to take it lying down. Annie must have made it into work.

  After a few minutes, when her legs felt as if they belonged to her again, she pulled herself up from the floor and left Annie’s room, pulling the door shut behind her. Now she was ready to face her dad and the rest of her shift.

  Nineteen

  Josh knew he had to be at the hospital mortuary by midday. Beth had texted him to say she thought the post-mortem on Florence Wright would be over and done by then. He looked at his watch; he was running late. It didn’t matter, she wouldn’t start their Jane Doe’s PM without him. They were no nearer to finding a name for her even though Bell and Sykes had been working tirelessly overnight to find it.

  He’d been up all night himself, concerned that he was missing something from Jason Thompson’s statement; there was just something about it that made Josh feel as if he was hiding something. According to the officer who’d taken it, Jason had been cagey, on edge and not very cooperative throughout the interview. An intelligence check on his background had brought up that he had previous for dealing class B drugs and he’d been questioned twice in relation to sexual relations with a person under the age of sixteen. There had been no concrete evidence and both times he’d been released without charge, which didn’t sit well with Josh. It looked as if Thompson could be a person of interest and he wanted to speak to him. This time, it would be him who did the questioning, and at the morning briefing he’d asked DC Paton to track him down and bring him in for a formal interview.

  Looking around his team, he wondered who to choose to attend the PM with him. He didn’t really need anyone else, but it was always better to have two pairs of eyes and ears. His first choice would have been Paton, a seasoned detective with lots of experience and not one likely to complain if he felt sick at the sight of the Jane Doe’s face being peeled back from her skull. But he’d already tasked him with finding Jason Thompson. He looked over at Sam and smiled, wondering what colour her hair was today. Yesterday it had been bright red, today it looked much darker. Tomorrow? Who knew! Sam was as reliable as Paton, less experienced, but keen and an excellent detective, even if she was a little green.

  ‘Sam, are you busy this afternoon?’

  She looked up from her phone. ‘Not particularly, what did you need?’

  ‘Your company for a couple of hours.’ He smiled at her and enjoyed the expression on her face as she realised why he wanted her for a couple of hours. To give her credit, she didn’t flinch.

  ‘As long as you buy the coffee on the way to the hospital, I’m in.’

  He laughed. ‘Deal.’

  The others turned around and Sykes piped up. ‘Erm. That’s favouritism, you know.’

  ‘No, it’s bribery. And seeing as how you’re going to be spending all day visiting local authority care homes, you’ll no doubt have time to fit in your own coffee run.’

  She opened her mouth then shut it again: she knew better than to piss him off. Sam grabbed her coat off the back of her chair and her bag from underneath the desk. She followed Josh out. He already had a set of car keys in his hand, his collar number written next to the car registration on the
huge whiteboard on the wall in the corridor.

  ‘Where’s the PM, Josh?’

  ‘Barrow, so we’ll go to Costa in town. I’ll park up and you can nip in.’

  She smiled at him. ‘Deal, do you think we’ll have an ID for her after it? It would be good if she was on the system.’

  ‘It would be a bloody miracle and yes, it would be amazing. I sent Carl to evidence the PM on Florence Wright, the body that was exhumed, just in case something wasn’t right. Claire is going to be joining him for the next one because we’ll need a wet and a dry exhibits officer. Please will you take notes so I can concentrate on what the doc is doing and saying?’ He knew she wouldn’t object, and at least that way she didn’t have to watch the entire procedure and could focus on writing.

  Twenty

  Estelle let herself out of the staff entrance: it was too stuffy down there. It was a shame there were no windows to throw open and let some fresh air in. She wrinkled her nose; there was a distinct odour of sweaty feet lingering in the air. She made a mental note to get some of those plug-in air fresheners – it wasn’t the nicest smell to inhale every time you set foot into the corridor. She took out her phone and texted Annie, hoping her friend had been back to her room to collect it.

  On a scale of one to ten, how dead do you feel this morning? Where are you, I’ll bring coffee? x

  She realised she’d better go and see her father, to sweeten him up and apologise for being silly last night, for drinking too much and letting her friends get too drunk. He liked apologies, always said it showed the true inner strength of a person if they could admit when they were wrong. What a load of crap. She was only doing it so he wouldn’t spend the next three days in a mood with her and send her to every shitty meeting and event that was booked in. She really hated working here and wondered if Annie fancied going backpacking with her. She had quite a bit of money stashed in her rainy-day fund that Daddy didn’t know about. More than enough that they wouldn’t have to slum it whilst travelling the world. In fact, this was the best idea she’d ever had; if she could convince Annie to go with her it would be amazing. They could face the music when they got home: Daddy would only be angry with her for a short time. He’d forgive her and give her a job, then she could give Annie her job back. It was perfect, they couldn’t lose: it would be like a Willy Wonka golden ticket if they could escape for six months and see the world. As soon as she’d grovelled enough she was going to hunt Annie down and surprise her.