The Dungeon House (Lake District Mysteries)

by Martin Edwards

  Without intending to, he’d struck a nerve. The killings had gnawed at Ben Kind. Hannah knew he’d beaten himself up, wondering if anything he might have done would have made a difference; he was that sort of man. Yet Whiteley’s rampage had come out of the blue – hadn’t it?

  ‘Mrs Whiteley didn’t have an inkling of what her husband was capable of?’

  ‘Obviously not. Otherwise, she and her daughter would never have gone back home that night, would they?’

  His reply verged on condescending. Time to regain the initiative.

  ‘Surely she confided in you?’

  The blue eyes were chilly with disdain. ‘We were friends, but she wasn’t likely to discuss her marriage with me.’

  ‘You painted together, didn’t you? She attended your art group, and you gave her personal tuition. I understood you were … close.’

  ‘Then you understood wrong.’ He folded his arms. ‘Don’t think I wasn’t aware of the rumours swirling around after that bastard shot Lysette. Let me tell you this, Chief Inspector. There wasn’t an iota of truth in any of them. That’s all I intend to say about her. In my opinion, she and Amber should be left to rest in peace.’

  Quiggin made a performance of consulting his wrist watch, and then stood up. ‘I have to go. A family of guests will be arriving any minute.’

  ‘Thanks for your time.’ Hannah handed him a card. ‘Perhaps Joanna Footit will turn up as well. If she does, could you let me know, and ask her to give me a ring?’

  He gave her a curt nod, and said, ‘I’ll see you later, Scott. And don’t worry, eh?’

  Hannah expected that Scott Durham would seize the opportunity to follow him out of the door, but he stayed put. Studying his fingernails, as if trying to come to a decision.

  Les said, ‘Something worrying you, Mr Durham?’

  He shot them a furtive glance. ‘I wonder … perhaps we could go to my cottage? It’s only a few doors down the road. I’d prefer to continue this conversation in private, if you don’t mind.’

  They told him they’d be round in ten minutes. The rain had eased off, and they walked along the Green so that Hannah could call Divisional HQ to learn the latest about Josh Durham without being overheard.

  ‘What do you reckon?’ she asked as she dialled.

  ‘He’s hiding something,’ Les diagnosed. ‘About the son, rather than the Dungeon House.’

  ‘And Quiggin?’ Hannah asked as she dialled.

  ‘Would he hate Joanna because she survived that car crash, while his darling daughter died?’ He shrugged. ‘Funny bugger, that one.’

  Hannah asked to be put through to Billie Frederick, who sounded cock-a-hoop.

  ‘We’ve struck oil! The Jovetic woman has remembered that Lily took part in a pantomime the Christmas before she disappeared. Two of her school teachers were in the cast, along with several pupils, but the show was organised by a charity, and guess who was on the committee?’

  ‘Not Josh Durham?’ Hannah squeezed the required amount of wonder into her question, and was rewarded by a hoot of glee.

  ‘Bull’s eye! So they did know each other, after all.’

  ‘Les and I have just met Josh’s Dad, and he wants to talk to us in private.’

  ‘Fantastic!’

  ‘Let’s see how much he knows about his son’s interest in young girls. As soon as we’re done, I’ll ring you back.’

  She stuffed her phone into her bag, and they strolled down Main Street to Scott Durham’s cottage. Pretty at a distance, but on closer inspection, like its owner, it was showing its age. Grubby windows, peeling paint. Making money as an artist in the Lakes wasn’t easy, with so much competition. It didn’t help if you drank away a large chunk of your earnings.

  ‘This way.’

  Durham motioned them into the studio. Jazz music was playing in the background. Mood Indigo. She and Les sat on a sofa facing the estuary. On an easel was a not-quite-finished view of Buttermere at sunset. Paintbrushes were everywhere, and half a dozen folders of pictures lay on a vast rectangular table in the middle of the room. All around was the paraphernalia of the modern commercial artist’s trade, a computer, scanner and printer, and a sophisticated-looking camera on a tripod.

  ‘I photograph the views I want to paint.’ Scott Durham’s haggard expression lightened; he was talking about his passion in life. ‘It’s vital to capture what I’ve seen, before subtle changes creep in. The quality of light alters so quickly, it can change in a few minutes, especially during that magical hour before sunset.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Time passes, and it makes a difference. Which is why we like to review investigations. Take a look with fresh eyes.’

  He grimaced. ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you here,’

  ‘We’re all ears, Mr Durham.’

  ‘It’s about my son, Josh.’

  Her calm nod made clear this was no surprise.

  ‘You’re … aware of him, then?’

  ‘Yes, we are.’

  ‘What – what do you know?’

  ‘We’ll make quicker progress,’ she said, ‘if the two of us ask the questions, and you answer them. Why don’t you tell us about Josh? Start at the beginning.’

  Durham sighed. An intelligent man, Hannah surmised, brought low by melancholy and resentment. As if he’d failed to play a good hand of cards to his best advantage. Life’s mishaps had defeated him, and he didn’t think it was fair.

  ‘Josh was always a solitary lad. I suppose his upbringing didn’t help. His mother was diagnosed with cancer when he was young, and she struggled with the disease for an eternity until it finally beat her. Once she was gone, Josh was all I had left. Along with my art, of course. That helped, but I was miserable as sin, and I wasn’t the best father. His refuge was the guitar, mine was painting.’

  ‘You never remarried?’

  ‘I’m coming to that,’ he said. ‘I was sure that it would do Josh good if the two of us had female company. I wasn’t looking for someone to replace his mother, that would be crass. Just someone to help create a normal family environment for him. And I won’t lie, I also wanted a lover, someone to keep my mind off what I lost when Trish died, a woman as different from her as possible. Preferably, to be blunt, someone who was gagging for it in bed.’

  Hannah tried to look non-judgmental, and failed. He said, ‘I know what you’re thinking.’

  ‘I doubt it, Mr Durham.’

  ‘You’re thinking Lysette Whiteley fitted the bill, but you’re way off beam. I don’t mind admitting, I slept with a dozen or more women who were members of my art group, or came to me for lessons in watercolour technique. Lysette wasn’t one of them. I fancied her, and we got on like a house on fire, but she always stayed out of reach. With hindsight, I suspect the idea of illicit romance turned her on, but she baulked at the prospect of turning fantasy into reality. I don’t think morality had much to do with it. More likely, she was frightened of Malcolm, and guessed what he was capable of, if he discovered she’d been unfaithful. I was wary of him myself. Not that I expected him to go on a shooting spree, I hasten to add. But he had a lot of money, and a vicious streak, and he could have made life difficult for me if he’d wanted.’

  ‘You and Lysette Whiteley were Just Good Friends?’ Les asked.

  ‘Please, there’s no need for cynicism. It was a long time ago, why would I lie?’

  ‘Okay, keep talking.’

  ‘The shootings came as a bolt from the blue. Utterly shocking. It was such an extraordinary experience. To know that people were pointing the finger at me … the atmosphere in the local community was dreadful, the whole business was quite surreal.’

  He turned his back on them, and stared out at the little boats on the water, while I Ain’t Got Nothing But the Blues filled the silence. Hannah leant forward, about to fire another question, but Les laid a restraining hand on her arm.

  ‘Nobody said it to my face,’ Scott Durham said, ‘but I knew what everyone was saying behind my back.
Because I’d been screwing Lysette, I was indirectly responsible for three deaths. That’s life in a small community for you. People I’d known all my life crossed the street to avoid me. Worst of all, Josh suffered. Kids at school made fun of him, they can be so cruel at that age. It was so fucking unfair.’

  Hannah couldn’t keep the scepticism out of her voice. ‘You gave Malcolm Whiteley no reason to be jealous?’

  ‘None.’ He pushed a weary hand through his hair. A gesture, Hannah guessed, that had made plenty of hearts flutter in his younger days. ‘Well, no real reason. Lysette was a passionate woman, and there was always a frisson between us. I suppose she enjoyed keeping me interested.’

  ‘And you were interested?’

  ‘Perhaps I made my enthusiasm for her too obvious, and it was my fault that tongues wagged. No smoke without fire, that old lie. But there was no fire. I swear it.’

  Hannah shrugged. ‘Tell us more about Josh.’

  ‘Sorry, yes.’ He exhaled. ‘I simply must get this off my chest, or I’ll go crazy. Eighteen months after the Dungeon House, I met someone. Her name was Wendy, and she worked as a classroom assistant. A divorcee, with two daughters. One girl was twelve, the other fourteen. I saw the chance of building a proper family life for Josh. Wendy and I took it slowly at first, but eventually she and her kids moved into the cottage. It seemed like a dream come true.’

  Dreams-come-true and real life didn’t mix, in Hannah’s opinion. ‘And then?’

  ‘The younger girl was difficult. She’d been very close to her father, even though he was a loser, a redundant computer programmer who proved his manliness by blacking Wendy’s eye every time he was turned down for a job. Though he took care never to hit her in front of the children. I did my best with the kid, but she never took to me. Or Josh. Whereas the older girl, Millie, was lovely. Angelic to look at, with a sweet personality, like her mother. I was so glad that she and Josh got on well. Then her sister spilt the beans. She’d caught the two of them in bed together one afternoon while Wendy and I went out for a walk.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘They insisted nothing really happened, and they were just mucking about. Teenage experimentation, it’s common enough. We managed to sweep it under the carpet, but a few weeks later, we found the younger kid in tears. She said Josh had put his hand up her skirt. He denied it, but Millie turned against him. Was there some jealousy between the two girls, were they competing for his attention? If I say it myself, he was a very handsome boy. I was never sure where the truth lay, but it all became too much for Wendy. She and her kids moved out, and Josh and I found ourselves back at square one. I assumed he was just going through a phase, and that I was to blame for any problems he had in relationships with girls.’

  ‘Were there other … incidents?’

  ‘With young girls, you mean? One or two, yes. Same pattern, they were daughters of women I was seeing. Thankfully, no harm was done.’

  How can you be so sure? Hannah wondered. She was conscious of Les simmering with anger by her side. But this wasn’t the moment for a debate about the trauma caused by abuse, or the damage done by turning a blind eye.

  ‘At university, Josh never lacked girlfriends, but none lasted. The only career he ever wanted was teaching, and he showed a gift for bringing the best out of his pupils.’

  ‘It didn’t cross your mind that he had an ulterior motive?’

  ‘To get closer to young girls? No, that’s horribly unfair. The best teachers are born, not trained. Josh is brilliant with kids of both sexes, and believe me, he’s never had any sexual interest in boys. He’s not like that. He just … seems to feel more comfortable around young people.’

  Hannah and Les exchanged glances. Better tread carefully. Say the wrong thing, and doting Dad would clam up in an instant. If he suspected Josh of kidnapping and killing Lily, he must be going through hell. As for Shona, was she alive or dead? The first priority was to focus on the living. If there was the faintest chance of saving the girl, Hannah couldn’t risk blowing it.

  ‘There was,’ she groped for an anodyne term, ‘… an incident at his last school.’

  ‘You’ve heard about that? Inevitable, I suppose, it was only a question of time before it came out. That’s the trouble, stories are so easily exaggerated in the telling. That business was nothing like as bad as it seemed. Six of one and half a dozen of the other. Yes, a teacher is in a position of trust, but these things are never as simple as they seem, or as the tabloids would have you believe.’

  ‘No?’ Les asked.

  ‘The girl was bonkers about him. He did his best, but she wouldn’t leave him alone.’ He added defiantly, ‘It’s not as if Josh is on the sex offenders’ register.’

  Only a question of time. Hannah said, ‘He resigned from his job.’

  ‘It was the right thing to do. For the girl, for the school, for him. Not an admission of guilt, but a chance to make a fresh start.’

  ‘So he moved schools, and met Shona Whiteley.’

  ‘He’s only been teaching her since the autumn term. Their paths didn’t cross before that.’

  ‘You don’t socialise with Nigel Whiteley?’

  ‘God, no. He’s given me a wide berth ever since … Lysette and Amber died. I lost no sleep over that, we never knew each other well. The truth is, we’ve nothing in common. Nigel is a cold fish, and I doubt if he’s got an artistic bone in his body. He just has pots of money.’ He coughed. ‘Sorry, I sound envious, and I suppose I am. Nigel is probably as ruthless a businessman as Malcolm, just more effective. Saying that, we do share one or two things. Each of us lost a wife we cared for deeply, and we’re both devoted to our children.’

  ‘I hear he’s distraught about Shona,’ Hannah said. ‘Naturally.’

  Scott Durham shut his eyes for a moment. ‘I can imagine. What father wouldn’t be heartbroken if his daughter went missing?’

  ‘When did you become aware that your son was … interested in Shona?’

  Anguish was scrawled in the lines on his face. ‘You make it sound as though I figured it all out ages ago. Far from it. Even now, I’m not certain. There’s no proof …’

  ‘Tell us about Josh and Shona.’

  ‘I need a drink.’ He stood up. ‘Would either of you like one?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  Opening a cupboard crammed with watercolour paper, pens and paints, he pulled out a half bottle of brandy and tumbler hidden behind them, and poured himself a generous measure.

  ‘Josh mentioned her to me casually. He didn’t know Nigel before they met at a parents’ evening. Josh played guitar at the barbecue that terrible day, but I doubt Nigel recognised him. Josh told me Shona was very talented, and I didn’t think any more about it until her name started cropping up in conversation. I was worried that … he might be taking too close an interest in her. He reassured me, and I believed him.’

  Yes, Hannah thought, people believe what they want to believe. Especially when it comes to their children. She wondered, as she’d wondered a hundred times before, what it was like to be a parent, and whether she’d ever find out. She’d fallen pregnant once, while she was living with Marc Amos, but a miscarriage had put paid to the prospect of motherhood, although not, she hoped, forever. Some might say her split from Marc meant that losing the child was a blessing in disguise. Not for Hannah. Every now and then, her dreams were haunted by the child-who-never-was.

  ‘When did you suspect something was wrong?’

  ‘Not until news broke that Shona was missing. The instant I heard, I rang Josh on his mobile. He’d told me he’d be away over Easter, and would be out of contact. Later, it dawned on me that he’d been unusually vague about his itinerary. I began to worry myself sick, and left two or three increasingly frantic messages, asking him to ring me, the minute he had a chance.’

  ‘No response?’

  ‘Eventually, he did phone back, though the mobile number that came up was different.’ Hannah’s stomach knotted. A new pay-as-you-go
was the phone of choice for people with something to hide. ‘He sounded breathless, but happy. Told me not to worry, and that everything would work out fine. I asked him if he was with Shona, and he pretended he hadn’t heard. Just repeated that he was having the time of his life, and he’d get in touch again as soon as he could. He rang off before I could utter another word, and I haven’t heard from him since. Of course, it’s entirely possible he and Shona may not be together.’

  ‘You don’t really believe that, do you, Mr Durham?’

  He groaned. ‘I don’t know what to believe.’

  Les said, ‘You’re seriously suggesting that you don’t know his present whereabouts?’

  ‘I don’t have a clue. If I did, I’d tell you. Honestly, I can see it’s for the best. If he has … gone somewhere with this girl, he’s just living out some fantasy. It’s a bad mistake, and he’ll get into trouble, but there will be a way through. He’s misguided, not wicked.’ He paused, as if scratching round in search of reassurance. ‘Nobody’s been hurt. Nobody has died.’

  ‘Let’s hope not,’ Hannah said.

  He crouched in front of them, his expression that of a man begging for mercy. ‘You don’t know Josh. He’s a gentle soul. He’d never harm anyone, far less a kid like Shona. I suppose she flattered his ego, that’s the way teenage girls …’

  ‘And Lily Elstone?’ Les demanded. ‘Are you saying he didn’t hurt her?’

  ‘My son had nothing to do with Lily’s disappearance.’

  ‘He knew her, didn’t he?’

  Scott Durham finished the brandy, and refilled his tumbler. ‘Josh never taught at her school.’

  ‘Lily’s father is your accountant, isn’t he?’ Les asked.

  ‘Totally irrelevant. Gray and I don’t mix socially. Ours is a purely business relationship, always has been. We have nothing in common. I’m not sure Josh has even been in his company since … well, possibly not since the afternoon of the barbecue.’

  Hannah played her ace. ‘You knew Josh and Lily were both involved with a charity pantomime?’

  Durham deflated like a punctured balloon. So he did know, and was probably just praying they hadn’t done their research thoroughly.