by Anita Waller
Iain looked deep in thought. Suddenly he stood. ‘Where are the toilets?’
Harry pointed. ‘Through the door over there.’
Iain disappeared, and the others looked towards Harry. ‘What can you tell us, now he’s gone?’
‘Nothing. They asked me to say nothing.’
Iain returned, slipping his phone back into his pocket, and Harry knew he had been in contact with someone; maybe his family, maybe his employer. Either way, he knew very little and could cause no damage.
They sipped their drinks, waiting for something to happen, anything. When Frank came through the door, they stood as one.
‘Has Harry said anything?’ he asked, and he received a mass shaking of heads.
‘Then I can give you limited information. The dead woman is Olivia Fletcher.’
There was a gasp, an explosion of shock from everyone sat around the table.
‘Has Her Grace been informed?’ Harry asked.
‘Yes. They’re both away, don’t forget, until the week after next, but this will probably bring them back.’
‘And is it connected to the other death?’ Again it was Harry speaking.
‘Nobody has actually said it is, but if it isn’t, who the hell thinks it’s okay to keep dumping bodies at Chatsworth? And how the fuck are they doing it under our noses?’ Frank sounded angry. ‘I’m sorry for the swearing, ladies, but she was just a sweet twenty-one-year-old kid, and some bastard has snuffed the life out of her.’
12
Forensics spent a long time in Greenhouse B and when Tessa finally left the glass building, she felt she knew nothing further. The girl’s name was Olivia Fletcher, and she was on the staff of the Duchess, and that was basically it. It seemed she lived with her parents, but as yet the address hadn’t been handed to Tessa.
She felt tired; the chest infection she had been battling for a couple of days was wearing her down. The cough was keeping her awake at night, and it was starting to look as though a visit to a doctor was called for. She had no idea when that would be possible.
Hannah and the rest of the team were waiting for her in the control room. A second murder board had been set up, although as yet nothing had appeared on it. Tessa walked into the room and went straight to a radiator, leaning against it to try to warm herself. The temperature was dropping dramatically as the afternoon wore on.
‘Boss?’ Hannah said. ‘You want anything?’ She was aware that Tessa was under the weather.
‘I’ll take a couple of pills,’ Tessa said. ‘They’ll help a bit.’
‘What do we know?’ Ray Charlton moved to the board and picked up a marker pen.
‘Not a lot,’ Tessa said, and smiled gratefully at Hannah as she handed her two white tablets and a glass of water. ‘The deceased is Olivia Fletcher, aged twenty-one, believed to live in Bakewell. We need an address as soon as possible; we have to inform her parents. It’s looking as though it’s strangulation again, but no time of death yet. Martin Robinson will let us know as soon as he does. He thinks it was early this morning, but that’s not confirmed. Can someone find out what time she was due to start work today please. And do it without alerting the staff to what has happened to her. Frank Norman is probably the best one to ask. He knows he’s to say nothing yet.’
‘How was she strangled?’ Ray’s pen was poised ready to write on the board.
‘Ligature, and it looks to be the same as the earlier death.’
‘So we’re looking at a possible serial killer?’ Fiona Ainsworth asked what everyone was thinking.
‘I hope not, Fiona,’ Tessa said. ‘At the moment it’s a double murder. Three turns it into a serial killer, so be very careful how you phrase things. And now we have a bit of a problem. When forensics have finished, I want some of you in the greenhouse, going over it meticulously. There’s a walkway goes around the plant tables about a yard wide either side, so there’s not much room to manoeuvre. Bear that in mind, and try not to kill any plants.’ She coughed, struggling to breathe.
‘Boss,’ Hannah said. ‘Go home. Get an early night. Nothing’s going to happen before tomorrow morning, and I promise if it does, I’ll call you.’
Tessa slumped onto a chair and sat for a moment before lifting her head to look at Hannah. ‘You’re right. I’m going to raid the first chemist shop I come across and get enough medication to cure a carthorse. But, Hannah, you ring me if anything happens. I mean it.’
‘I will. Now go. As soon as we get the address, I’ll take Ray and we’ll go and do the notification. You’re not fit to do it anyway. You can talk to her parents in a couple of days when you’re feeling better.’
So Tessa went.
Hannah and Ray knocked tentatively at the house in Bakewell. The front garden was tidy, although at that time of year bare of colour. The net curtains moved slightly, and a woman called from the other side of the front door. ‘Who is it?’
‘Mrs Fletcher?’
‘Yes.’
‘Mrs Fletcher, it’s the police. Can you open the door, please?’
The door opened slightly, and then stopped, halted by the door chain. Hannah held up her ID. ‘DS Hannah Granger and this is DC Ray Charlton. Can we come in, please?’
The door closed, the chain was removed, and they were allowed over the threshold into the wide hallway.
‘Can’t be too careful,’ Alison Fletcher said, unsmiling. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Can we go in and sit down, please, Mrs Fletcher? Is your husband here?’
She hesitated. ‘Tony, can you come here a minute?’
The door at the end of the hall opened, and a heavyset man in a wheelchair came through. He stopped when he saw them, and waited.
‘It’s the police,’ his wife said.
‘Oh. And what can we do for you?’ His tone was bordering on belligerent.
Hannah was insistent. ‘Can we go and sit down please?’
Alison moved to the left and opened a door leading into a large lounge. They all went in, the wheelchair gliding smoothly on the laminate flooring.
‘Is this your daughter, Olivia?’ Hannah asked, picking up a photo frame from the mantelpiece.
‘It is. Is she in trouble? She’s at work. She works at Chatsworth.’ Alison was babbling. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
Tony Fletcher grabbed hold of his wife’s hand. ‘Come on, lovely. Calm down. She was fine when she went to work this morning. Don’t go upsetting yourself.’
‘Mrs Fletcher,’ Hannah said gently. ‘Come and sit down.’ She sat on the sofa and patted the seat by her side.
Ray stood by the fireplace, hating what they were about to do.
Alison Fletcher was clearly unnerved. She sat by Hannah’s side and listened to the detective tell her how she was very sorry, but her daughter was dead.
The wheelchair was almost silent in its movement and Tony pulled his wife against him. He held her tightly, almost as if he was trying to smother the moans coming from the depths of her.
‘No, no, no, not Olivia. She wouldn’t hurt a soul. Not our Olivia.’
Tony looked at Hannah. ‘How?’
‘I obviously can’t go into details. There hasn’t been time for that, she was found about two hours ago. We’ll know more tomorrow morning when we receive forensic reports…’
‘I said how,’ he repeated.
Hannah took a deep breath. ‘Olivia was unlawfully killed.’
A devastated Alison screamed, and she clung on tightly to her husband.
‘Oh God, Tony, she was murdered.’
The man’s belligerence had gone, now he looked grey and bewildered. ‘But who would want to kill our Liv? She was the world’s gentlest person.’
‘We have no answers yet. Ray, can you make tea for everybody, please.’
Ray disappeared to the kitchen, leaving Hannah to talk to the distraught parents. He hated having to do this job, had always admired Hannah and the boss for taking it on every time it was required.
He switched on the kettle and
reached up to the cupboard to take down some mugs. A box of tablets was to the left of the kettle on the work surface. They bore Tony Fletcher’s name and Ray quickly took photographs on his mobile while he waited for the kettle to switch off.
There was a quiet sobbing coming from Alison when he returned, and he handed round the drinks. He was grateful for the hot tea, his own nerves frazzled by the experience, and he couldn’t begin to imagine how the Fletchers must be feeling.
Hannah moved into the hall and quietly rang Tony’s sister, who said she would be over within quarter of an hour, and they eventually said goodbye and left, telling them someone would be in touch as soon as they had any information.
As they got in their car, a little Smart car pulled up, and a woman hurried along the path.
‘They’ll be okay,’ Ray mumbled to Hannah. ‘That was horrible, wasn’t it?’
‘Always is. Usually I’m in your position, because the boss takes the lead. I feel drained, but she was in no fit state to do it. We’ll go back in a couple of days and start with some questions, but we couldn’t do it today. Come on, let’s head to Chatsworth. See if anybody knows anything we don’t.’
Ray took out his phone and handed it to Hannah. ‘Go into the pictures. I took a photo of Tony Fletcher’s medication, in case we needed to know what we were dealing with. None of it rang any bells, but we can look it up when we get back.’
Hannah moved her fingers and enlarged the picture. Ocrelizumab. Avonex. She clicked off the picture and handed the phone back to him.
‘We don’t need to Google anything,’ she said with a deep sigh. ‘My mum has these. It’s multiple sclerosis. No wonder Mrs Fletcher seems to be in such a nervous state. It can’t be easy for them, and now their daughter’s been murdered.’
Tessa overdosed on everything and climbed the stairs wearily, hoping she would get a better sleep. The previous night had been horrendous, and had been spent mostly propped up into a sitting position by multiple pillows.
Her body felt worn out, tired enough to sleep the instant her head touched the pillow; her brain said differently. She went through everything so far, each of the murders, trying to find the link. She knew there was one, and recognised it may take some delving to track it down, but she trusted her team. They would find it.
One piece of commonality was Chatsworth. Whoever had killed the two girls clearly knew the estate, and knew how to move around it without fear of being discovered. Every member of staff would have to be interviewed, and questioned in depth, but so would previous staff members who had left the employ of the Duke and his wife. Maybe some had left under a cloud, or with bad feelings towards the Devonshires. She couldn’t imagine it, the Duke had been wonderfully helpful towards their investigation, but he was top of the line and grudges can rise pretty high.
Tomorrow, she thought as her eyes finally closed, tomorrow at the briefing I’ll relay all these thoughts…
Hannah spent half an hour on the phone with her mum. Talk of her illness with Ray had kick-started thoughts that they hadn’t chatted in a while. Oh, they’d had quick phone catch-ups, but no lengthy proper talk for months.
She came off the phone, feeling much better about things. She’d told her mum, against all instructions, about the day she’d had, culminating in the notification visit with Ray.
Joan Sharpe had sensed instantly the distress that Hannah was trying to hide, and had talked her through it. When Hannah’s tears came, her mum knew she would be okay.
Joan put down the phone and sighed. She had always held back from ringing her daughter because she didn’t like to intrude on the life she led, but it seemed as though she had been wrong. She needed to speak with her much more regularly, she needed to let Hannah talk about everything and anything, secure in the knowledge it would go no further.
She would text her in the morning, send her love and then ring in the evening, just to let her know she was there. Always.
13
Without knowing it, all three women opened the file sent to their hard drive within a minute of each other. Luke had already gone through it and made notes and observations, so he busied himself with the bits of post that had arrived, and updating the diary. He grinned when he saw that Kat was having a date afternoon with Carl Heaton and she’d put it into the physical diary, but done nothing with the online one. He entered it in and put a little red heart at the end of it.
He held a bottle of water to his lips and took a deep drink, then opened up his notepad. Computers were brilliant, but when you’re sat around a table discussing the contents of a file of multiple documents, the only thing you needed was a notepad and a pen. He had no doubt there would be a myriad of things he had missed that would be picked up by his ladies, particularly Kat, but for now he wanted to be au fait with the stuff he had noticed.
His notation of the broken arm and the writing on the back of the photo of Daniel with a cast on the arm were uppermost in his mind. What did she do to him? was written in red ink on the back, and it seemed that Debbie Carter had probably taken the picture of her nephew. But that needed checking… Luke ran a highlighter across his words to remind him to bring it up.
There was also a photo of a man’s back with huge welts across it, deep purple bruising that hadn’t begun to yellow. There was nothing written on the back of that picture, but Luke guessed it would be Adam Armstrong, the husband who had had enough.
Luke had written up a mini profile of both Adam and Daniel Armstrong, using whatever information he could find in the papers, but it was copies of their birth certificates that gave him the most.
Adam Armstrong was born on 3 June 1978, making him forty, which in turn meant he was around thirty when he’d disappeared. His mother was Yvette and his father John Armstrong, and the address at the time of his birth was 3 Jasmine Dell, Hathersage. Luke highlighted Yvette and John, and their address.
Daniel Armstrong was born on 30 May 2003, and his address at the time of his birth was the same Nicola Armstrong had still lived at until her death a few days earlier, 27 Linwood Cottages in Baslow. Danny’s birth certificate confirmed his mother and father as Nicola and Adam Armstrong. Danny, if he were still alive, would now be fifteen.
Luke flicked through the rest of the pages of notes, highlighting where he needed to make important points, then waited patiently for his ladies to summon him into the sanctuary of Kat’s office.
Kat’s new cupboard, with shelving from about halfway up and a large space at the bottom to house six extremely comfortable stacking chairs, had been an inspired idea by Stefan Patmore. Luke lifted out three of the chairs, and they sat around the beautiful oak desk Kat had chosen for her office. She threw them the coasters she kept in her top drawer for their mugs of coffee, and the meeting started.
Kat began. ‘First of all, I’m sure you’re all extremely grateful to me for putting this file together so quickly and so perfectly, without having to ask anybody for help…’ She looked around at the faces in front of her, and collapsed into giggles. Martha, playing in her pram with a rag doll, beamed at her mummy.
Kat held up a hand. ‘Okay, I give in. Luke, this was a magnificent effort. I hadn’t realised quite how much stuff was in that carrier bag, and you’ve put it all in separate places…’
‘Folders, Kat,’ Luke said.
‘Okay, clever clogs, folders, and even I can understand it. Can we give him a raise?’
‘No,’ said Doris.
Luke grinned. ‘That’s okay. Just give me a partnership.’
Martha’s beaming smile moved from her mummy to Luke. She and Luke had mutually fallen in love when Kat arrived with her two hours earlier, and he waved at the little girl and blew her a kiss.
‘So, who came up with what?’ Mouse asked. ‘And thank you, Kat, for all your hard work.’
Doris spoke first. ‘If she didn’t kill them, I think they’re alive. As soon as Daniel became seriously hurt – and remember, we don’t know if she hurt him prior to this breaking of his arm –
it looks as though his dad took him. He took him to keep him safe. It’s obvious Nicola Armstrong had serious anger issues, and for some people they never resolve them.’
Luke flicked through his comprehensive notes and drew a line through his own version.
‘Luke?’
‘I’d thought exactly the same thing,’ he explained, ‘and I’ve now crossed it out so that I can see if there’s anything left at the end when you’ve all finished talking.’
‘So tell us something in your notes.’
‘I made sort of mini profiles of both of them, dates of birth, where they were born, that sort of thing. I didn’t have time to delve any deeper last night because I had to go out and pick Mum up from her quilting group. I think there’ll be something in there that’s hidden at the moment, but won’t be when we get a proper picture of Adam and Danny. Like you ladies, I think they’re alive, but I also think Adam must have spent a lot of time planning the disappearance. It was very successful, and it’s been silence from both of them for ten years.
‘One other thing that occurred to me while I was dropping off to sleep was we maybe should try to track down a will Nicola Armstrong may have left. It seems she didn’t divorce, so technically she’s still married to Adam. Presumably he was co-owner of the house, so therefore it’s now his. And that’s where DI Marsden’s case and ours do a crossover, because wouldn’t that give him a motive for murder? Or even give Danny a motive for murder… If Adam has subsequently died, Danny would inherit.’ Luke stopped. ‘Tell me to shut up if I’ve overstepped the brief.’
Kat’s eyes were wide. ‘For goodness sake, give him the raise, Nan.’
‘He’s certainly taking over from you as our thinker,’ Nan said. ‘You thought of all of that as you were going to sleep?’
‘Yes, it’s why it’s not in my notes. It might all be absolute rubbish, because they might not have been co-owners, but even if Adam didn’t have a half-share in it, Danny presumably now inherits the lot if he turns up. If she owned it outright, Danny is her next of kin.’