Frozen Grave

by Lee Weeks

  ‘I would accept any treatment they wanted to give me if it meant I was cured. You could make sure of it.’

  ‘Don’t get your hopes up – you were convicted of murder and sentenced to stay here indefinitely,’ Willis reminded her.

  ‘But – there are court cases coming up, challenging that ruling. The European Parliament. They might order a review of that.’

  ‘Not likely to change anything for you.’

  ‘I’m just saying I need hope, Ebony, for Christ’s sake. I am a human being and I need hope. Don’t you understand that, in all the books you’ve read, all the studying you’ve done, don’t you understand the most basic of human values and emotions?’ asked Bella.

  ‘I understand that you don’t really know the impact you have on people. You are manipulative and ruthless and you only think about yourself. Yes – I accept you’re sick but don’t accept that you didn’t know what you were doing when you killed your lover. I will never help you get out.’

  ‘So you won’t even help your own mother?’

  ‘I am helping you by leaving you to get the treatment you need and serve the punishment you deserve.’

  ‘You cold fish, Ebony Willis. I gave birth to a lump of ice.’

  Willis picked up her coat and the envelope containing her father’s photo and details.

  ‘Cold-hearted bitch,’ Bella said. ‘That’s what you are. Ebony?’

  Willis turned and walked away from her mother’s bed.

  Her mother screamed at her. ‘Ebony, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Ebony – please. Please don’t write me off. Tell your father that I will always love him.’

  Willis stopped and turned to face her mother. ‘That’s the trouble, mum, you destroy the things you love. I’m not sure I’m ready to see that again.’

  On her way out, Willis stopped at the nurses’ station and asked to see the sister-in-charge.

  ‘Miss Willis, how can I help?’

  ‘Something’s going on in there with my mother and the pregnant woman.’

  ‘It’s no concern of yours, or ours – merely interplay between your mother and the woman opposite. They seem to have a fair amount of animosity between them.’

  ‘No.’ Willis held up her hand for the sister to take a breath. ‘Let me tell you – my mother is a pressure cooker and she’s set to burst. You need to move that woman opposite.’

  The sister was irritated. ‘We don’t have any more private wards available. They will have to share. When high-security patients come into us from Rampton, they just have to accept what we have to offer. We can’t be giving your mother her own private suite.’

  ‘Then move the pregnant woman to a maternity ward.’

  ‘She isn’t due to give birth yet. She has a month to go. She has come in with high blood pressure. When it goes down, she will go back to Rampton. I would appreciate it if you would let us deal with things. We are used to patients from Rampton.’

  ‘But you haven’t met my mother before, have you?’

  Chapter 30

  Emily finished unloading her carrier bags and put the steak in a black-pepper marinade. She made the salad and went into her kitchen cupboard to choose some wine for the evening. She belonged to a wine club and she got it by the case. She knew she drank a little too much wine, especially when Ellerman was staying. They seemed to bring out the worst in each other – that was why it worked between them. That was one of the reasons she knew they were meant for one another. No one else had ever freed her to be herself. No one had made her feel so passionate, so alive.

  Ellerman arrived at three. He rang her to make sure she was in.

  ‘Come on up.’

  He carried his bag up the sweeping staircase to her flat on the first floor. Emily lived in Taunton town centre. Her parents had bought the house for her after her first husband was paid off, after her breakdown. After the school had agreed to give her a job because she used to be a pupil and her parents had paid for the new library.

  She clung to him as he got inside the door.

  ‘Lucky you were home,’ Ellerman said, stepping inside.

  ‘I should get you a key, then you can come whenever you like.’ She held on to him.

  ‘Yes. Good idea. What’s for dinner?’

  ‘The usual: steak and a lovely bottle of wine; I hope that’s okay?’

  ‘Marvellous. I look forward to it.’

  ‘Did you like the case I gave you last time?’

  ‘Wonderful. Much appreciated.’ He kissed her forehead. It was the case of wine he’d taken to Megan’s last week. ‘And I have something for you.’

  He brought out the bottle of Angel perfume and gave it to her.

  She kissed him, unwrapped it straight away and daintily dotted it behind her ears. She was happy. Ellerman was pleased with himself.

  Emily opened a bottle of French white and gave him a glass.

  Ellerman took it from her and sat down in one of the tapestry-covered armchairs; he leant his weary head back onto the chair as he closed his eyes and drank the cool crisp Sauvignon Blanc. He loved staying at Emily’s. There was a reliability about it all. Even her house was just as he knew it would be – every time. Emily had traditional taste in furnishings. The house was neat. The rooms were high-celinged with original Edwardian features: dado rails and architraves. There were heavy-framed portraits of moody-faced children and hunting scenes on the walls. It suited Emily because she looked like she belonged in a period drama. She was small-mouthed and large-eyed. Wiry and tall with a quiet elegance and strength.

  ‘Ah, it’s good to be here,’ he said.

  She sat down opposite him. ‘I’ve gone part-time at work now.’

  ‘Don’t the school object?’

  ‘I’ve given in my notice anyway. My parents have offered me a chance to set up something for myself.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  She shrugged. ‘I was hoping you might have some ideas.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes. Something we can do together, maybe? Craig will be leaving for uni and we can move on to the next phase in our relationship. That was always the plan, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. Absolutely. A business together? That would be great. Let me think about it. Meanwhile, I’m really stuck for cash at the moment in Spain. The architect miscalculated something major. The idiot. He put the dining room over a bore-hole – stupid. That all needs sorting.’

  ‘How much do you need?’

  ‘Ten? Would that be possible?’

  ‘Ten thousand?’

  ‘Yes. Think of it as a loan.’

  ‘Or I could become your business partner?’

  ‘I’m not sure the Spanish business is the one to start with.’

  ‘Why not? I have put quite a lot of money into it already. My book-keeping skills could come in handy. Maybe it’s time you let me handle the financial side of it?’

  ‘People have different ways of doing things, don’t they? I’m not sure you’d approve of mine.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I might do things differently than you. I’m self-taught – I do things my way. It may be too difficult to come in on the Spanish business, that’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘Nonsense! Good business sense exists or it doesn’t. It starts with good housekeeping. I think you could benefit enormously from my help. Cash-flow problems seem to plague you.’

  Ellerman shook his head and sighed irritably. ‘It’s all so much more complicated than you think.’

  ‘I can make it simple for you.’ She smiled.

  He reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you, darling.’

  Mason woke intermittently and called for Sandy. She was never far away. She came back from her scavenging and wagged her tail as she sniffed Mason’s face. She whined and nudged him with her head. He knew what the nudge meant. It meant she was hungry and she needed him to get food for her. She had found water in the puddles in the car park but no food. It had been days since she’d had proper f
ood and she was frantic. Mason drifted back to sleep; Sandy was uneasy.

  In the evening she sniffed the air as she heard the sound of people passing on the road that ran beneath the adjacent arch. She smelt takeaway kebab. Laughter echoed beneath the arch.

  Sandy stood upright and walked nearer – she peered through the fence. Sandy never went near people without Mason. The streets had taught her to trust only those that Mason trusted and even then to be cautious. Her face pressed against the fence as she watched them pass. The smell of food made her whimper, her mouth drool. She looked back at her master and her loyalty was tested. She needed food to live. One of the three lads picked up a stone and aimed it at her. She yelped as it rattled across the fence and hit her on the nose. She backed away, whimpering.

  ‘Sandy?’

  Mason tried to move. He forced himself to sit upright but he could not stand. He slumped down again, he was too tired. She went back to him and lay down next to him. She smelt the infection rising in his body. She couldn’t sleep from hunger.

  In the morning she heard cars come into the car park. She heard the car door slam and she knew it would be the woman who put on her coat and had food in her bag. She crawled out and watched the woman. She saw the woman open her bag and look at Sandy. She smelt food so strongly now that she began to whine.

  The woman threw half a sandwich across to Sandy before she walked quickly away across the car park.

  Sandy picked up the sandwich in her mouth and took it back to Mason. She placed it next to him on the blue coat. She nudged his head. He stirred at the smell of food. He reached out a hand and she licked his palm. Mason took a bite of the sandwich as Sandy watched him and then he placed it in front of her and nodded; she finished it.

  Chapter 31

  Ellerman awoke to see Emily getting dressed. It was Wednesday morning and a school day for her.

  The room was so dark that he could only just make out what she was doing, reaching behind, zipping up her skirt. He heard the slide of her underskirt against her legs.

  ‘You should have woken me, what time is it?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s seven. We’re going to have an archery tournament today. I can’t afford to be late.’

  ‘But you’re a maths teacher—’

  ‘Not according to my head of department – now I’m apparently the archery expert. Especially since we have an Open Day coming up.’

  ‘Come back to bed; I have something I need your help with.’ She giggled but it was a polite giggle rather than a heartfelt one.

  ‘Have to be a one-man job, sorry; they will be beginning breakfast in a min and then my duties start.’

  ‘Come on, miss. What about your duty to me? I need you to demonstrate square roots and top-heavy fractions to me again.’

  She smiled as she came across to the side of the bed. He reached out and pulled her down on it and wrapped her in the duvet as he held her tightly and snuggled into her.

  ‘Same time next week?’

  She didn’t answer straight away. She tried to move but he held her tightly and she relaxed again in his arms.

  ‘What is it, Emily? Are we okay?’

  ‘Yes, but . . . I like being with you. I like the fact that we both share a Christian faith. I don’t like the fact that you are still living in the family home when you told me that was just a formality. Sometimes I feel like you’re not really with me. You’re always looking at your phone, checking your texts. You’re always leaving the next morning. You could stay around, you know?’

  ‘I will next time – I promise. You’re busy anyway – Miss Archery Expert.’ He gave her a squeeze and tried to see past her curly hair to kiss her cheek but he couldn’t quite make it. ‘I’d stay but you’re working anyway.’

  ‘I’m only working three days a week now.’

  ‘I know. Well, I promise to make a special effort from now on and come and see you more.’

  ‘Saturday evening. You could come Saturday. We could meet some of my friends maybe – to make it worthwhile – then we could go out for a drink and grab something to eat. As much as I like seeing you, we always seem to do the same thing. I cook and we go to bed.’

  ‘You’re right, as always. You’re right and I’m sorry. I’ve been so bogged down with work that I just haven’t given you enough consideration; but I will, I promise. Just bear with me. This winter is tough for me. It’s the worst time to try and sell yachts and the weather is interfering with the Spanish renovations. You know I really love you, Emily. I will try to keep you happy, I promise. When the spring comes, we’ll fly over to Spain and lie in the sun. You tell me the dates of your holidays and I’ll work it all out.’

  ‘I gave them to you already.’

  ‘Are you sure you did? Well, just give them to me again and I’ll get straight on it.’

  She slipped out of his reach and stood to smooth her skirt down and make herself presentable. She reached down and kissed him.

  ‘You wouldn’t hurt me, would you, JJ?’

  ‘No. Never.’

  ‘You know I will never let you down? I know we were meant for one another. I would do anything for you. I just want it to work between us. I want us to live happily ever after, just us. I’ve been waiting for so long now.’

  He sat up in bed and held on to her hands.

  ‘And that’s what I want too. Have faith in me, in us. I promise you it will all be okay. You mean the world to me. You know me better than I know myself.’

  ‘Yes – perhaps that’s the trouble.’

  Emily left for work and Ellerman looked for his phone. He reached down and patted the carpet, looking for it. He usually kept it next to him whilst he slept. He couldn’t feel it. He had been so tired the previous evening he didn’t remember coming to bed. Too many brandies had left him making mistakes. He reprimanded himself. That was sloppy. And it wasn’t the first time recently that he’d put his phone down and forgotten where.

  He got out of bed and put the light on, looked through the pockets in his jeans, his jacket; he couldn’t find it. He looked under the bed, in case he had kicked it there by accident. He went out into the hallway and into the lounge and he saw it on the coffee table. He picked it up and looked at it. Across the cover was an alert that he had three messages and one missed call. He was running things through his brain – what could she have seen? Anything? He was reassured. Nothing. There was nothing she could have seen. If she had read his messages he would know, unless she’d marked them as unread. Not likely. She was a technophobe. She could barely use her own phone. That’s what she always said.

  He put in his code. He must alter it again. He couldn’t be too careful. He smiled, curious, when he saw a new message from Jo Harding:

  Hello, stranger.

  He made himself a coffee and sat down at the kitchen table to text her back:

  If I remember rightly you’re an early riser; and if you remember – so am I. Fancy meeting up? Why don’t I just come straight to you? I still have your address in my satnav.

  Her text came back:

  Tempting, but I’m just leaving for work. Call me later and we’ll discuss.

  Ellerman didn’t reply. Today it was only Wednesday. He had two more days before he’d be heading home for the weekend. The thought didn’t fill him with joy. He preferred it on the road now. He liked to hit the floor running.

  Ellerman put his phone down on the kitchen table, turning the phone over and over as he thought about the texts. He had always seen Harding as out of his league. She was more merciless than he was and she had a sex drive that far surpassed his own. Maybe when he had enjoyed life at a more relaxed pace, she would have been a good match for him but, right now, he needed to keep it simple. He needed to find himself a woman of simple character with a lot of money. He needed to up his game and forget the ten thousand here, five there. He needed to find women who didn’t question everything he did, who were grateful and kind and loaded. Harding had money. It might be worth another go. She had a brittle si
de to her that he might just be able to tap into. Did she know about Olivia? Was that why she was back in touch? Ellerman began to feel the heat coming to his face. He felt the sweat start to trickle down his back. What if that was it? A trick. Harding worked for the police pathology department. Was she trying to trap him? He needed to stay calm. He needed to use his wits. He logged on to his emails. He had several new messages from dating sites. He didn’t put his photo up, or if he did it was one he really couldn’t be recognized in. On one site he had a full-length shot of him standing by a river, one foot up on a rock, in shorts, backpack, hiking mode. His shoulders side-on to the camera. There was another of him skiing, his face partially obscured by goggles, wearing a hat. He stood tall and strong, ski poles in hand, squinting in the Alpine sun as he grinned into the camera. A third was an action shot of him racing down rapids in a canoe. None of the images could be made any bigger before they turned too grainy. They had served him well – Mr Action-packed. Mr Hunter-gatherer. I can afford to ski every year. He was anything between thirty-eight and forty-eight. His height ranged from five ten to six one. His preference for red wine over white stayed constant. His like of action thrillers sometimes gave way to romcoms and documentaries. He was loyal and charming and as faithful as a Labrador puppy. He always had an Aston Martin.

  Chapter 32

  Harding looked at her schedule for the day – she had taken her car into the Audi body-repair garage but they had said it would take two more days: they had to order a new roof from Germany. They weren’t even starting the body work until that came. That was annoying. She was sick of waiting. But it meant that she could get more work done if she didn’t have to pick up her car.

  She looked at her list and Lorraine Chance’s name was top. She opened the door to her office and went to find Mark, who was preparing Olivia Grantham’s brain for further dissection – cutting it into centimetre slices – the task made easier now that it had hardened.

  ‘Mark – I want to reschedule Lorraine Chance. Let’s do it now whilst we have a few hours. Ready in ten?’

  ‘Yes.’ Mark smiled at her enthusiasm. He knew that the study of how the homeless die on UK streets was something that Harding had written a paper about.