Frozen Grave

by Lee Weeks

  ‘When was the last time?’

  ‘Probably three weeks ago.’

  ‘And how was that?’

  He shrugged. ‘Fine. She seemed okay – same as usual.’

  ‘Usual?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What was usual for her?’

  ‘Well – you know . . . maybe a little obsessed with work, but not depressed or anything.’

  ‘Where did you meet that last time?’

  ‘I think it was at her flat.’

  ‘Which is where?’

  ‘Brockley. I think.’

  ‘What was your relationship with Olivia, Mr Ellerman?’

  ‘We were friends. I told you.’

  ‘Was it a platonic freindship?’

  ‘We had a physical friendship.’

  ‘You were lovers?’

  ‘On a casual basis, I suppose so.’

  ‘How did you meet?’

  ‘We met online.’

  ‘Where online?’

  ‘An adult-friend-finder service called Naughties. It’s a site for finding sexual partners. It’s an honest way of hooking up with a stranger for sex.’

  He looked across at Carter. Carter sat opposite him and smiled politely but still said nothing.

  ‘Would you say your relationship with Olivia was just sexual?’ asked Willis.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You never went to dinner? You didn’t spend time with one another? You didn’t ring her for a chat – ask her how her day was?’

  ‘We may have had dinner. We liked the friendship we had. It was enough.’

  ‘Is that unusual for someone meeting on this type of site, to have dinner, to form a relationship? To become friends outside the bedroom? Isn’t it dangerous to become attached? I thought the whole idea was that you meet, have sex and then walk away without forming a bond.’

  ‘No, not necessarily. It’s a starting point sometimes.’

  ‘So you formed a bond with Olivia?’ Willis asked.

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘I want you to think clearly, Mr Ellerman,’ she continued. ‘We have phone records of Olivia’s dating back five years. Your messages appear on them in the last two years . . .’ She opened the file on the table and took out the page so that Ellerman could see the heading: Messages sent and received between Olivia Grantham and JJ Ellerman.

  ‘There are many times that it appears you met one another. You talked to one another for nearly an hour sometimes. And you know what strikes me, Mr Ellerman? There seems to be a proper relationship between you.’

  ‘Nonsense. It was just phone sex.’

  ‘In one text message she mentions her investment. What does she mean by that?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Could it have something to do with your Spanish company – Hacienda Renovations?’ asked Carter, speaking for the first time.

  Ellerman looked from one detective to the other. He watched Carter turn the page in the file and pull out the printout from Companies House.

  ‘Am I under investigation? I was told this was an informal interview. I want a lawyer here if you persist in cross-examining me.’

  ‘We only want to build up a better idea of her life, Mr Ellerman. I’m sure you will want to find out what happened to Olivia,’ Willis said. ‘After all, she was a friend at least, wasn’t she?’

  ‘I told you, she was just someone I met for sex.’

  ‘Did you tell her about your Spanish renovations company?’ asked Carter.

  ‘I might have done.’

  Ellerman shifted in his seat. He was sweating. A bead had begun to trickle down his temple.

  ‘Did she invest in any of your businesses?’

  ‘I can’t remember. I don’t think so. What does that matter, anyway?’

  ‘Everything matters, Mr Ellerman. Everything helps us to build a picture of her life.’

  ‘Did Olivia know you were married?’ asked Willis.

  ‘Yes, of course. I don’t lie about things like that. Look, I have absolutely had enough. I demand to be allowed to leave now. You’ve had quite enough from me and I feel very threatened by your line of questioning.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Carter. He looked up at Ellerman and smiled politely.

  ‘We’re really hoping that we don’t have to ask you to come in again, so we are being as thorough as we can be this time.’ He turned to Willis: ‘Detective Willis, is there anything else you’d like to ask Mr Ellerman before we thank him for his cooperation and send him on his way?’

  ‘There is one more question.’ She scanned down her notes. ‘Did Olivia mention that she was seeing someone else or had just begun a new friendship?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you any idea who she might have been meeting on Sunday evening?’

  ‘No. I’ve said – I don’t have any idea. Can I go?’

  Ellerman got up. Willis was scanning through the phone records again; she stopped halfway down the second page.

  ‘Sit down, please. Do you have another mobile number that you use?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Not even a back-up one that you keep for emergencies?’

  Ellerman shook his head, annoyed. ‘I said – no.’ He sat back down heavily in his chair. ‘I’ve told you all I want to say.’ He stared straight ahead, his arms folded across his chest.

  ‘Okay. Thank you for your cooperation,’ Willis said, closing the file. ‘I have to ask you not to leave the country and to be available for us to talk to you again if necessary. Is this the best number to get you on?’ Willis read the number from the sheet pinned to the file.

  ‘Yes. I don’t want my wife bothered.’

  ‘I am sure you don’t,’ said Carter.

  ‘It’s not like that – it’s just that she has been depressed. I want some reassurance from you that she won’t be bothered.’

  ‘No guarantee – as Detective Willis said, Mr Ellerman, please keep yourself available and make sure that we can locate you easily enough and then that shouldn’t be a problem.’

  After the first set of interviews, Willis and Carter headed back to the Dark Side.

  Robbo was at his desk, engrossed in sorting the images from the crime scene. Pam was at hers. Hector was out of the office. ‘How did the interviews go?’ Robbo looked back and forth between Carter and Willis for an answer.

  ‘We interviewed four men who had some kind of encounter with Olivia Grantham. Only JJ Ellerman is of serious interest. The other three have watertight alibis. They only saw her once each.’

  Willis went to sign in to Hector’s empty workstation.

  ‘What was Ellerman like?’ asked Robbo. Pam stopped her work to listen to the reply.

  ‘He’s a smart-looking man.’ Carter looked towards Willis to confirm.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘He cares a lot about his appearance. He keeps himself in good shape but he looks frayed around the edges. He sweats a lot. He is arrogant and thinks he’s cleverer than he actually is.’

  Carter smiled.

  ‘Exactly – couldn’t have put it better myself. He looks down his nose at the world. He is Mr In Control. Selfish, self-absorbed and ruthless.’

  ‘Nice guy then; can see you two warmed to him.’ Robbo smiled. ‘What did he say about his relationship with Olivia Grantham?’

  ‘He said as little as he could get away with,’ answered Carter. ‘He definitely didn’t want to talk about the fact that he might have been fond of her. But he admits they went to dinner, they had a friendship besides just sex. But he didn’t seem to really care that she was dead. He certainly wasn’t that shocked by it. Do we know any more about him, Pam?’

  ‘I think I’ve found him on seven dating sites so far,’ said Pam. ‘On three of them he has his photograph; it’s a version of the photo on his website, taken at the same time by the look of it. He describes himself as someone slightly different each time – his age is always between forty and fifty. His height varies, interests always include classic
cars and his income is always huge. That seems to be the key for him – he is how much he earns. He wants everyone to know. In each of the adverts, he uses the same line: self-made man, used to luxury.’

  ‘Except he doesn’t earn it any more,’ said Carter. ‘What about the classic cars?’

  ‘He still has those. He has four altogether. A Porsche is amongst them. That’s been SORNed as has a Ferrari. Two cars are taxed and on the road. They are registered to his address. He must keep the Porsche and Ferrari somewhere else.’

  ‘It costs a lot of money to keep a car in perfect condition,’ said Robbo.

  ‘What about the Spanish Hacienda company, Pam?’ asked Carter. ‘Have you found anything else on it?’

  ‘Not yet. Do you want me to contact the Spanish police in the area?’

  ‘Hold fire with that. I think we’ll follow up the interview with a home visit, just to keep the pressure on Mr Ellerman.’

  Chapter 25

  Dee Ellerman stared down onto the garden below her. The gardener was tidying up after the storm the previous week. She wondered that he didn’t feel the cold. He had just a T-shirt on and the temperature had dropped to below freezing.

  She opened the window. ‘Mike, do you want tea?’

  He stopped on his way towards his van, dragging a large fallen branch behind him.

  ‘Lovely.’ He smiled.

  ‘Come in for it.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll just put this in the van and I’ll be there.’

  He came back and hovered in the doorway, afraid to step into the clean kitchen. ‘I’d be better off outside. I’m going to drop bits all over your floor.’

  ‘It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.’

  He started unstrapping his boots. He didn’t like to appear rude and his hands were blocks of ice, even though he’d managed to work up a sweat moving all the wood.

  ‘Biscuit?’

  He sat where she pulled out a chair for him at the table. ‘Never say no to one of those.’

  She opened a new packet of chocolate digestives, having been out to buy them that morning.

  She placed a plate with biscuits down in front of him and sat opposite.

  He took a slurp of tea and it burnt his mouth but he didn’t want to show it. ‘That hits the spot.’ He snapped a biscuit in half and put one half in his mouth. He looked around the kitchen, trying to think of something to say. He saw her open laptop on the worktop.

  ‘You studying? How’s your car-maintenance classes going?’

  ‘Good, thanks.’

  ‘And what are the other classes you’re taking?’

  ‘Spanish and IT, website design.’

  ‘God, I could do with that – I’m rubbish at creating a website.’

  ‘I could help you.’

  ‘That’s kind but I think you’d soon realize you’d have your work cut out. I’m next to useless. You must be quite good.’

  She nodded towards the laptop. ‘I enjoy it.’

  ‘You used to be a hairdresser, didn’t you? I remember your husband mentioning it once.’

  ‘Yes. When I was young.’

  ‘You’re not old now.’ He smiled.

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘You could start it up again.’

  ‘Maybe – I’d have to retrain – everything’s moved on since I learnt. What about you? How’s the gardening business?’

  ‘It’s good. It’s difficult to work through the winter but I manage. I need to find something else to do really. I’ve lost my way a bit, I think. I used to be good at building stuff; loved designing things. I might give that a go again one day. It’s hard sometimes to get yourself moving, isn’t it? I was thinking of asking Mr Ellerman if he might have any work for me in Spain – you know, on the houses he mentioned to me?’ He looked up at Dee, hopefully.

  Dee smiled and nodded. ‘You’ll have to ask him. You have children, don’t you Mike?’

  ‘I have two, yes. I get to see them every weekend.’ He looked across the table and held her gaze. ‘My wife and I are separated.’

  She looked down at her tea and held the mug with both hands. ‘How lovely for you to spend time with your kids.’

  ‘Yes, I wish it was more. I wish they could live with me but – you know how it is – there’s no way you can make a break-up any different than it is. It’s a painful process for everyone involved.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mrs Ellerman – if you don’t mind me asking – are you okay? You seem a little upset today.’

  ‘Thank you for asking, Mike, but I’ve just got a lot on my mind.’

  ‘Mr Ellerman’s away a lot, isn’t he? It’s a big house to be rattling around in all week on your own.’

  ‘Yes. But I don’t mind. You get used to being on your own, don’t you? Sometimes it’s much harder being with someone than being alone.’

  ‘I know all about that. I never thought I could live alone – but you get so used to it. I think I’d have a hard job finding someone now.’

  ‘You don’t have a girlfriend?’

  ‘No. I have the occasional date. You know – I’m on a couple of dating sites.’

  ‘Meet anyone nice?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve also met a lot of women who scare me.’

  Dee laughed. The sound even surprised her. She hadn’t heard it for so long.

  He finished his tea and stood. ‘Better get back to work.’

  Dee tidied up and then went upstairs armed with clean washing to put away. She went to stand at the window overlooking the front of the house.

  Mike was putting on his protective helmet and doing up the strap beneath his chin. He stopped and looked up to the bedroom window; he smiled at her and then his eyes went towards the driveway. She knew who it was by the way Mike reacted. But today was only Thursday: JJ usually made his way home on Friday.

  Dee heard her husband’s key in the front door.

  ‘Dee?’ Ellerman closed the door and threw his keys on the table in the hall. He went to see if she was in the kitchen.

  ‘Dee?’ He climbed the stairs, then stood watching her from the doorway. She was staring down towards the garden still. Mike was busy slicing through a fallen trunk with his chainsaw.

  ‘We should sort this room out.’ Ellerman walked in and stood behind her, breathed in her smell. Her long dark hair was plaited down her back; from behind she still looked like the schoolgirl he’d met. From the front she was just the ghost of her. ‘We can’t keep it as a shrine to Craig. Dee? Come on, let’s go downstairs.’

  ‘I like being in here.’

  ‘I can see it’s upsetting you.’

  ‘It’s not being in here that upsets me. Being close to Craig could never make me cry. Only missing him every day does that.’

  Ellerman went down the stairs and out to talk with Mike outside. He looked up, to see Dee watching them from the bedroom window. She had one of Craig’s T-shirts in her hand. She lifted it to her face and he saw her breathe in the smell of their son. Then she was gone from the window and Ellerman talked through the plans for the garden with Mike for ten minutes whilst he packed up. Dee opened the front door and came out of the house, pulling her hat down over her ears. Mike stopped talking as she walked towards them; he was packing his tools away in his van.

  ‘Which class is it today then?’ he asked.

  Dee smiled at him and Ellerman thought how she seemed coy; she and the gardener seemed to know one another on a personal level. They must have chatted before, properly chatted.

  ‘Car maintenance.’

  ‘Can you have a look at my van for me – there’s a funny sound coming from the engine.’ He grinned.

  Dee smiled. ‘I’m not that good yet.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Ellerman asked, feeling like the stranger.

  ‘I always go to my car-maintenance class on a Thursday.’

  ‘What are you going to be doing today?’ asked Mike. ‘Is it an oil change again?’

  ‘No. The teacher is taki
ng us to a working garage to show us how to do a full service.’

  Mike looked impressed. Ellerman looked bemused.

  ‘Your wife will be able to save you a fortune, Mr Ellerman.’

  ‘You must be kidding – she’s not going near my cars. See you later, darling . . .’ Ellerman turned back to Mike, who was still busy packing up his van. ‘How much do I owe you?’

  ‘It’s three weeks – so that’s three hundred.’

  ‘What about the logs?’

  Mike stopped loading his van and turned to face Ellerman. ‘Sorry – I don’t get what you mean?’

  ‘Can’t you take them and sell them? Take it off the money I owe you?’

  ‘Uh, no. They’re not seasoned, I’m not sure who’d want them.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter – I just hate waste, that’s all. I’ll have to pay you next time. I’m sorry, I don’t have any cash on me.’

  ‘You still have my Internet banking details? Can you put some money over as soon as possible, Mr Ellerman?’

  ‘Run out of beer money, have you?’

  ‘I don’t drink.’ Mike continued loading his tools.

  Ellerman opened the boot of his car and took out his bag. Then he went back into the house and into the utility room, past the kitchen. As he emptied his bag on the floor something dropped out. Ellerman stared at the sprig of Dartmoor gorse in his hand; its bright yellow flowers seemed garish now and out of place in the stark white of the utility room. He turned it over in his hand. It meant Megan liked him, he supposed. He wasn’t sure what it meant. She was showing that she was already feeling an attachment to him – he hadn’t lost his touch – that was reassuring. He still had the charm and the wherewithal down the business end to hold his women’s attention. He didn’t know why he worried so much. Sure, he had good and bad days. Sure, he had problems maintaining interest and an erection sometimes, but basically – yeah . . . basically, they all wanted something that he could promise.

  He placed the sprig of gorse on the shelf next to the washing powder. He might think about giving it to Dee as a present. He put the first load of his clothes into the machine, before picking up the empty bag and taking it upstairs. As he went into the bedroom he ran his finger along the top of the door and looked at the thin layer of dust on it. He mumbled to himself as he threw his bag on the bed. Was it too much to ask to keep the fucking house clean, for fuck’s sake? He kicked his shoes across the floor and walked into Craig’s room. Dee had left the door open as she always did. He knew why – she wanted Craig to be with them all the time, part of their every day. He wanted to let go.