The Dungeon House (Lake District Mysteries)

by Martin Edwards

  ‘All right, Chief Inspector. You win. Josh did have a fleeting acquaintance with Lily, but categorically, that’s as far as it went.’

  ‘How can you be certain?’

  ‘He told me about the panto at the time, just as a matter of interest, because I knew Gray. He had nothing to hide.’

  You’re wriggling. ‘What did he say about Lily?’

  ‘Oh, that she was a sweet kid. He felt sorry for her, because her mother was a nightmare. Totally controlling, couldn’t stop interfering. She made herself deeply unpopular with everyone playing in the concert. He told me Lily loathed her mum, and dreamt that one day she’d be able to live with Gray.’

  ‘So Lily confided in your son?’

  ‘Please don’t try to trap me into making admissions I don’t intend, Chief Inspector.’ He wanted to sound dignified, but the brandy – plus whatever he’d drunk earlier – meant that admissions was hopelessly slurred. ‘She said the same to anyone she spoke to, as I understand it.’

  This chimed with evidence from Lily’s friends. More than one girl had reported that she hated Anya, and this level of undisguised hostility – along with experience of meeting the appalling woman – had encouraged detectives on the original enquiry to suspect Lily of running away. But why escape from Gray, not Anya, and why leave without her passport or money? No, the voluntary disappearance theory didn’t stack up. Especially after three years without a confirmed sighting. She’d been abducted; no other explanation made sense.

  ‘Did you discuss Lily’s disappearance?’

  ‘Yes, the day the news broke. I was with him that evening.’

  For the first time, a glimmer of satisfaction lit the blue eyes. He looked like a man about to score a point.

  ‘You remember it clearly?’

  ‘I certainly do. As it happens, I was visiting Josh in hospital.’ He sounded almost triumphant. ‘He’d broken his leg, falling off a concert platform a couple of days earlier. His leg was in plaster, and he’d also chipped his vertebrae. At one time, the medics were seriously worried. It took a lot of hard work and physio to get him back on his feet again, but thank goodness, he made a full recovery.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I hope so, Chief Inspector. My boy may have made mistakes, but he’d never physically harm a young girl, or do anything against her will. I’d stake my life on it. If you think he kidnapped poor Lily Elstone, you couldn’t be more wrong.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ‘Win a few, lose a few, huh?’ Les said.

  They’d turned right out of the artist’s cottage, heading through the flood gates and on to the beach. Now they were walking into a stiff breeze as they made their way back toward the guest house. The rain had eased off for the moment, but sepia clouds promised an imminent downpour.

  ‘I’d have laid good money on Josh Durham being responsible for Lily’s disappearance as well as Shona’s.’

  ‘Just as well you’re not a gambler, eh?’

  ‘Did you believe him?’

  ‘Why lie about his son’s accident, when we can check? He’s not that stupid. Refusing to admit he had an affair with Lysette Whiteley is different. He’s banking on the fact that nothing can be proved after all this time.’

  ‘Everyone assumed he and Lysette were lovers, so what does he have to gain by claiming otherwise?’

  ‘He’s in denial. He can’t bear to face the fact that, indirectly, the affair provoked Malcolm Whiteley’s killing spree.’ Les kicked at a pebble. ‘Weak as dishwater, that’s Durham.’

  They clambered over the rocks, and toward the Green. ‘I’ll call the office and ask for a check on hospital records,’ Hannah said. ‘Let’s see if Josh does have an alibi for Lily’s abduction. And we may have an update on his current whereabouts.’

  Billie greeted Hannah with the glee of a hunter who has scented her prey. ‘Things are really coming together. A neighbour saw Josh leaving home in his car half an hour before Shona said goodbye to her old man. The timings fit, he’d have taken twenty minutes plus to reach the Dungeon House. And his car’s been found abandoned in a back street near Liverpool Lime Street station. Chances are, he and Shona caught a train to London.’

  ‘The location may be a blind,’ Hannah said. ‘Lime Street is walking distance from the ferry terminal. They might have headed for Ireland or the Isle of Man. Keep me posted?’

  ‘You bet.’

  Hannah turned to Les. ‘Shall we see if there’s any sign of Joanna yet? I can’t imagine what she’s playing at.’

  ‘Perhaps she nipped off for a quick leg-over with Nigel Whiteley.’

  ‘His daughter’s missing. Surely he’s got enough on his plate.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not. An old flame turns up on his doorstep, and she’s still got the hots for him. It’s one way to take his mind off things.’

  ‘That’s how men’s minds work, is it?’

  ‘Thought you’d been around long enough to realise.’

  ‘Thank God I’m a woman.’

  ‘I guess Ben Kind’s boy is glad, too.’

  She rang the bell at the guest house. Alvaro Quiggin greeted them with gloomy resignation, and waved them into the cluttered cubby-hole that served as his office.

  ‘This is just a quick call,’ Hannah said. ‘We wondered if …’

  ‘Joanna isn’t back, and she hasn’t been in touch.’ Quiggin glanced at the wall clock. ‘It’s still early afternoon. No need to send out a search party just yet.’

  ‘Would you mind if we had a quick look in her room?’

  ‘I suppose I could object, but what’s the point?’ He sighed heavily, and turned to Les. ‘Something wrong?’

  Les was staring at a photograph stuffed behind a box labelled Invoices. ‘Who’s that?’

  A flush came to Quiggin’s sallow cheeks. ‘My daughter, Carina.’

  ‘Carrie North?’ Les sounded incredulous.

  ‘To me, she’ll always be Carina Quiggin.’

  The moment Hannah took a proper look at the photo, light dawned. Les had been struck by a startling resemblance between Carrie North and Lily Elstone. Or at least between Carrie and Lily as she appeared in her last known picture. The shoulder-length blonde hair, the big grey eyes, and the rosebud mouth were almost identical. At first glance, the two teenage girls might have been sisters. Even twins.

  ‘Well spotted,’ Hannah said, as they returned to the station car park. A cursory search of Joanna’s room had proved fruitless; her suitcase and plenty of clothes were there, but nothing to indicate where she might be. The discovery that Quiggin’s daughter was a dead ringer for Gray Elstone’s girl, however, gave them plenty to chew over.

  ‘Like I said, it’s about being in the right place at the right time.’ Les fastened his seat belt. ‘What do you make of it?’

  ‘When you look closely, the girls’ appearance is only superficially similar,’ Hannah said. ‘Carrie North had a bigger nose, and her jaw wasn’t so pointed. It’s not a family resemblance.’

  Les said drily, ‘So we can rule out the possibility of Quiggin being Lily’s real father?’

  Hannah couldn’t help laughing. ‘I reckon so. Anya Jovetic married Gray Elstone because he was rich and desperate. Quiggin might be desperate, but that wouldn’t be enough for her. The girls’ hair is done in the same style, and that counts for a lot.’

  Her phone trilled. Billie Frederick could scarcely manage to contain her excitement. ‘Got the bastard!’

  ‘Jesus, that was quick.’

  ‘Good work, eh? You were right. Well, close enough. He and Shona are in Northern Ireland, not the Republic. Holed up in a B&B not far from the Giant’s Causeway. The owner has been in touch. Sounds as if she loves playing the detective. Certainly, she’s mastered the art of covert surveillance. She’s even managed to photograph the pair of them with her mobile, and email the pictures to the PSNI. No question, it’s Shona. Gazing into Durham’s eyes as though the sun shines out of his arse.’

  ‘She looks okay?’
>
  ‘Blooming. They are posing as a married couple, very lovey-dovey. They booked in with false ID, and Shona’s claiming to be twenty-one. She has the figure to get away with it. Seems they planned their getaway carefully, not that it had a prayer of working out for them in the long run. Since they arrived, they’ve not bothered much with the scenery. They spend most of their time shagging, according to the owner. A woman in the room next door complained about the noise. Even at this time of day, they’re tucked up in bed together.’

  Hannah breathed out. Scott Durham hadn’t been so wide of the mark; Josh hadn’t killed the girl, thank God. But he’d finish up in prison, beyond a doubt.

  ‘So they can’t sneak off?’

  ‘The landlady’s on guard downstairs, and the PSNI are due to arrive mob-handed any minute now. Lucky for us that the runaways are still in the UK, there’s much less red tape to fret about. Shona and Durham will be separated straight away, and DI Borthwick and another colleague will get over there on the next available flight. If only every misper enquiry had such a positive outcome, eh?’

  ‘If only, yes.’ Hannah pictured Lily Elstone in her mind. ‘Does Nigel Whiteley know?’

  ‘Not yet, it’s next job on the list. Unfortunately, Grizzly is stuck in the magistrates’ in Barrow, and I’m not sure when—’

  ‘If it helps,’ Hannah broke in, ‘Les and I can see him. Ravenglass Knoll is only down the road, and we wanted to speak to Nigel anyway.’

  ‘Terrific,’ Billie said. ‘Always good to kill two birds with one stone.’

  Tears glistened in Nigel Whiteley’s eyes as he absorbed the news that his daughter was safe. He’d invited Hannah and Les into the living room, and they sat together while the rain poured down outside, and Hannah explained what would happen next. Standard practice was for Shona to be detained for her own protection, while the medics made sure she was okay. Life would become more complicated if the girl declined to answer questions for fear of incriminating her boyfriend, or proved reluctant to return home, but Nigel didn’t fall into the trap of ranting about bureaucracy or making wild threats against the man who had stolen his daughter.

  ‘I blame myself.’ He’d poured himself a generous measure of whisky, and tried in vain to persuade his visitors to join him. ‘Let’s be honest, I’m her Dad. I should have paid more attention to what was going on. How did I not realise, how come I didn’t pick up the signs?’

  ‘There weren’t many signs,’ Les said. ‘The two of them were much more discreet and careful than the vast majority of couples in cases like this.’

  ‘It never crossed my mind that she’d do anything so … so crazy, and not say a word. As if she didn’t care about me.’ He sounded dazed, still coming to terms with the news. ‘I’ll have to think about whether she should move to a new school. Perhaps it won’t be necessary, with Josh Durham out of the way. She has to understand the game is over.’

  ‘Teenage girls sometimes live in a fantasy world.’

  ‘Shona isn’t a fantasist.’ He was speaking almost to himself. ‘She just knows what she wants, and sets about getting it. Ironic, huh? It’s in her genes, it’s the one lesson in life I’ve taught her, and now it’s come back to haunt me.’

  ‘Don’t blame yourself,’ Hannah said. ‘Josh Durham is the criminal, not you. A schoolgirl ought to be safe with a teacher.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ He let out a sigh. ‘Oh well, we’ll survive, and I’m not sure Josh Durham will. Presumably he’s finished? No job, years in the nick?’

  ‘Racing certainty,’ Les said.

  ‘Tough on his father,’ Nigel said. ‘I never cared for Scott, to be truthful, but it’s no joke, losing your only child. There’s a special bond between a parent and an only one, believe me. I’ve coped with plenty of shit in my life – my Dad’s illness, my uncle committing murder, my wife being slowly destroyed by pancreatic cancer. But this past week has been as tough as any. Not knowing if I’d ever clap eyes on Shona again. Not having any control.’

  Hannah had met plenty of rich businessmen – and quite a few senior police officers, come to that – who thrived on exerting control. To her, it seemed like the last word in futility. Sooner or later they all discovered that some things in life simply couldn’t be controlled.

  ‘Griselda will be here as soon as she can. Of course she’ll keep you updated on developments. In case you were wondering, there’s really no point in your dashing off to Northern Ireland. All being well, Shona will be back in England soon.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he murmured. ‘There are bound to be procedures you need to follow. I’ll curb my impatience. I just can’t wait to see her home again.’

  Hannah made a non-committal noise. In all likelihood, Shona would return to Ravenglass Knoll soon, but it was too early to give assurances.

  Nigel Whiteley stood up, and offered his hand. ‘All’s well that ends well, eh? I’m very grateful to you for coming here to tell me in person, Chief Inspector. I’m sure your time’s very valuable.’

  As Hannah and Les followed him out into the hall, she said, ‘There was something else.’

  Nigel Whiteley stopped in his tracks. ‘What was that?’

  ‘It’s about Joanna Footit. A name from your past, I gather.’

  He stared at her. ‘Joanna? What about her?’

  ‘Have you seen her?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, she came to see me.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Only yesterday. The first time we’d met in twenty years.’

  ‘Since the shootings?’

  ‘Yes. Joanna is staying nearby, and she wanted to catch up.’ He hesitated. ‘She’d seen the news about Shona, and … well, I wish I’d been more hospitable, but the worry about Shona left me distracted. I must let Jo know the good news.’

  ‘You know where she is?’

  ‘Staying in Ravenglass, at a local guest house. Why do you ask?’

  ‘It’s only that she didn’t spend last night there, and her whereabouts aren’t clear.’

  He screwed up his face. ‘I don’t understand. What has Joanna got to do with anything?’

  ‘We’re anxious to ask her one or two questions, that’s all.’

  ‘Questions?’

  ‘Routine,’ Les said, contriving to make it sound anything but routine.

  ‘I’m completely baffled.’ He scratched his head, to emphasise the point. ‘I can’t imagine what you would want to ask Jo, or where she might be, if she isn’t at the guest house. Unless.’

  ‘Unless?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘Unless it’s something to do with … what my uncle did.’

  ‘Go on.’

  Nigel groaned. ‘Christ, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be allowed to forget that this lovely house was a murder scene.’

  Hannah gave him a moment to collect his thoughts before prompting him. ‘You were saying?’

  ‘I was startled to hear from Joanna after all this time, but it was good to see her again. I’ve often wondered how she was coping. We went out together briefly at one time.’

  ‘You were both in that fatal crash. In the car driven by Robbie Dean.’

  He gave her a penetrating look. ‘You have done your homework, Chief Inspector. Why in God’s name are you dredging up such a painful episode from the past?’

  ‘It’s my job, Mr Whiteley. I’m in charge of the Cold Case Review Unit.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ He mulled this over, like a barrister in court, processing new evidence. She suspected he could think on his feet as fast as any legal eagle. Years of working as a claims farmer must have given him plenty of practice. ‘But the car crash isn’t a ‘cold case’, is it? Nor is what my uncle did. Everyone knows what happened here all those years ago.’

  ‘Do they?’ Time to detonate a grenade? Hannah made a snap decision. ‘Not everyone knows that Joanna Footit was here that night.’

  Nigel Whiteley’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.

  ‘Did you know that, Mr Whiteley?’

  ‘Tell you what.�
�� he said, giving a humourless smile. ‘Let’s go back into the living room. I could do with another drink, if you don’t mind.’

  Without waiting for a reply, he led them back, and gulped down some more whisky. Hannah couldn’t blame him for wanting to fortify his nerves, but she could recognise a strong character when she saw one. Nigel Whiteley wouldn’t shoot his mouth off without taking time to think. He’d never blurt out a stupid, blatant lie, as Alvaro Quiggin had, when asked if he’d realised Joanna was one of the survivors of the car crash. Easy to see why Whiteley was so much richer.

  Better give him a shove. ‘When did you find out?’

  ‘Not until yesterday,’ he said. ‘It came as a bolt from the blue.’

  Yes! She’d been right. Joanna Footit was the person Anton Friend had seen on the night of the shootings.

  ‘I can imagine,’ she said. ‘What did she tell you?’

  ‘Very little.’ He seemed unsure what to say. ‘Are you sure you won’t have a drink? Tea, coffee?’

  ‘No, thank you. About Joanna …’

  ‘Yes, yes. She became flustered, a bit hyper. I think … she was trying to explain why she’d run away from the Lake District. Not that she owed me an explanation.’

  ‘She thought you deserved to know?’

  He gave a helpless smile. ‘Jo was a sweet girl, Chief Inspector, but her moods swung rapidly. I felt sorry for her, just like I did in the old days, but pity isn’t conducive to romance. The truth is … Joanna never had much luck. The car crash put paid to our brief romance. She had a breakdown, and turned into a stranger. Edgy, frightened of her own shadow. I was only a lad, and to be honest, I couldn’t handle it.’

  ‘Her health improved, eventually.’

  ‘Yes.’ He hesitated. ‘She became more like the old Jo. The day of the barbecue, we spent time together.’

  ‘You had a meal that evening, along with Lysette Whiteley and her daughter.’

  ‘Along with several others, yes. Afterwards, Jo and I went for a walk in the moonlight. Quite romantic, but we did nothing more than hold hands.’