The Girls in the Lake: An addictive and gripping crime thriller (Beth Adams Book 2)

by Helen Phifer

  The young lad looked at them. ‘Show me your ID. You could be anyone; might be reporters for all I know.’

  They both pulled out their warrant cards and held them up.

  Pulling himself through the hatch, he moved closer to study them, then nodded and stepped back.

  ‘Sorry, officers, you can’t be too sure.’

  Josh found his attitude more annoying than he let on.

  ‘Very wise, you can’t be too careful at all. Let’s start again. I’m Detective Sergeant Josh Walker and this is my colleague Detective Constable Sam Thomas. We’d like to talk to you about Leah Burton.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘How well did you know her? How much alcohol did you all consume? Where were you when she went into the water? How about that for starters?’

  ‘Come down below, it’s cold up here.’

  As they followed him downstairs and out of the biting wind, Josh looked around. It was a very nicely fitted out boat with a surprisingly big galley kitchen, a plush seating area and a couple of doors which he assumed led to bedrooms.

  ‘Nice boat.’

  ‘Thanks, have a seat.’

  Sam and Josh slid into the seated booth behind the table; James sat on a chair opposite them.

  ‘Do you have parties on here much?’

  ‘I hire it out for private parties, and occasionally use it myself.’

  ‘I take it you have all the legal documents and licences for that side of the business?’

  James glared at him. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t be able to conduct business without them. The insurance alone probably costs more than your yearly wage.’

  Josh didn’t bite. ‘So, where were you when Leah went overboard?’

  ‘I don’t know when she went into the water. I left around eleven with her friend. We went back to my apartment. Everyone was drunk and I didn’t want to sleep with her on the boat. I wanted some privacy, so we left.’ James ran his fingers through his fringe unnecessarily for the third time in as many minutes.

  Josh wondered if it was a nervous twitch, or if he was just that vain – perhaps it was both.

  ‘Did you sleep with her at your apartment?’

  ‘What has that got to do with anything? Yes, we did. She was with me until the next morning.’

  ‘Who was left on the boat?’

  ‘Ethan and Leah, though I didn’t even know her name until today. They were just a couple of girls we picked up, took for a sail on the lake then slept with.’

  ‘Ethan said he didn’t sleep with Leah, and the post-mortem confirms there was no sexual activity prior to her death.’

  ‘Well that’s his loss; he was probably too drunk. He really can’t handle his drink.’

  ‘Are you in the habit of letting drunk people sleep on your boat – your very expensive boat – unsupervised?’

  ‘Ethan is my best friend, of course I would. Look, I don’t understand what all of this is about. I’m sorry that girl was found dead, but it’s no one’s fault except her own. Who in their right mind wants to jump into the water at this time of year?’

  ‘I’m just doing my job. Why are you so upset?’

  ‘I’m not, I just don’t like your questions. I have nothing further to say to you. If you want to speak to me again please make an appointment. I’ll have a solicitor with me.’

  James stood up, signalling the interview was over. Josh and Sam did the same, and James led them back up onto the deck and watched them disembark with his hands folded across his chest.

  Turning back, Sam said, ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Marshall. I’m sure you understand how difficult it is trying to find out the answers to questions we don’t know in order to help Leah’s family cope with their grief.’

  James’s shoulders relaxed and he uncrossed his arms. ‘Yes, I do. I’m sorry about this whole mess, but all we did was have a good time. I never meant for anyone to come to any harm. I hope you can understand that.’

  Josh nodded. ‘We do, that’s why we do this difficult, underpaid job. To help grieving families come to terms with the loss of their loved ones. We also make sure that if anyone is to blame for their deaths that we take the appropriate course of action.’

  They left him standing there. It had started to drizzle while they’d been below deck but James didn’t turn back inside until they were off the jetty and back on dry land. Josh could feel his eyes on them all the way to the shoreline.

  Twenty-Eight

  ‘What did you think of him?’ Josh asked once they were inside the warmth of the car out of the rain which was coming down in sheets.

  ‘I don’t like him, he’s a rich arsehole.’

  Josh laughed. ‘Me neither. I don’t think he gives a shit about Leah.’

  ‘I don’t think he gives a shit about anyone. How many times did he have to run his hand through his quiff?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s odd that he clammed up and threatened us with a brief. If he wasn’t there when it happened, what’s he got to hide?’

  ‘Maybe he’s worried about bad publicity. It won’t do his party boat any favours if it gets out someone died on his boat. There’s no way I’m letting Grace go anywhere near that boat now, especially if he’s on it. I bet he sleeps with all the punters.’

  ‘You need to find a way to talk her out of it then.’

  ‘That’s great advice, Josh, really it is.’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t have kids. I don’t know anything about them. I suppose the more you tell her to stay away, the more likely she is to go.’

  ‘Absolutely right, Detective.’

  Defeated, Josh took out his phone and rang Paton. ‘Have you found me any missing persons that could be the body pulled from the lake yet?’

  ‘Morning, boss. There are two possibilities. First is thirty-eight-year-old Melanie Thorp who was reported missing six days ago by her husband. There was activity on her bank account in Manchester three days ago, but nothing since.’

  ‘Who’s the other?’

  ‘Twenty-four-year-old Julia Bach. She was reported missing by her roommate at The Hounds Inn on the eleventh of October. According to the report she’d been talking about going home to Poland or looking for another job before she disappeared.’

  ‘Was she down as a high-risk mis per?’

  ‘No, medium. There was no immediate concern and she already had most of her stuff packed in a case ready to leave. According to her file she disappeared after an argument with the supervisor. Her co-workers all assumed she’d left, all except for the one who reported her missing.’

  ‘I’m in Bowness now. Sam and I will go and speak to the staff, see if her belongings are still there. We might be able to get some DNA from her toothbrush or hairbrush.’

  ‘If they still have it. They might have binned it if they thought she wasn’t coming back.’

  ‘Hopefully not.’ He ended the call. Paton was right, they might have got rid of it all, but fate might be on their side. It wasn’t as if they could ask her roommate to do a formal identification, because right now whoever was lying in the mortuary no longer resembled a human. Still, a weak lead was better than no leads at all.

  Twenty-Nine

  Beth studied the body of the unidentified female lying on the mortuary table. Bodies submerged under water for any length of time become bloated and unrecognisable. Maceration occurs when the skin changes due to water absorption. It first appears on the fingertips, then palms of the hands, same with toes and feet; the skin becomes whitened, sodden, thickened and wrinkly. Beth loved nothing more than a long soak in a hot bath to wash away the stresses of the day. How often had she got out of the tub with wrinkled hands and feet like an old washerwoman? But when skin is submerged for a long period, over time the surface becomes loose and peels off, followed by the hair and nails. Beth knew from her studies that maceration is accelerated in warm water, but the water in Windermere was only about six Celsius in October. At that temperature, it should take around eight to twenty-four hours for th
e changes to become apparent. In seven to ten days epidermal separation may have started, and in around three to four weeks skin and nails may be sufficiently loose to fall off. Of course, temperature was one of many environmental factors that could increase or decrease maceration, so looking at the loose skin in front of her, Beth estimated that this body had been in the water at least two weeks.

  Stirring herself into action, she began to speak into the Dictaphone as Abe finished washing away the last of the tiny marine life that were clinging to the body. ‘This is the unidentified body of an adult female in moderate decomposition. The body weighs one hundred and fifty-six pounds and measures 157.46 centimetres. The head appears to be normocephalic and is covered by blonde hair. There is no balding and the hair can be described as shoulder length, straight.’ Bending over the head, she used a gloved finger to lift up each eyelid. ‘Examination of the eyes reveals irides that appear to be blue in colour and sclera that are white. There are no petechial haemorrhages of the conjunctivae of the lids. Oronasal passages are unobstructed. Upper and lower teeth are present. Dentures are absent. The neck is unremarkable. There is bloating to the torso due to prolonged submersion in the water. The body, legs and feet all show greening with marbling on the upper thighs. The hair and scalp easily slough with slight pulling. The head and face are bloated with bulging eyes; the face shows skin slippage on the forehead. Skin slippage is also present on the chest, back, arms, hands and both lower legs. The skin on the palms, fingers, soles of the feet and toes all show marked wrinkling.’

  Beth gently picked up an arm to look at the fingers. ‘I’m going to have to try to get some prints from the fingers of the left hand. It looks in slightly better condition for some reason.’ What Beth meant was she was going to remove the top layer of skin and lay it over her own gloved hand to fingerprint. Not her favourite part of the job, but thankfully a task she seldom had to perform. It was very efficient in getting results, however, and the sooner they could identify their Jane Doe the better. She heard Abe’s teeth grind as she carefully slid the loose skin over her own fingers; he hated this part. Satisfied the skin was wrapped as tight as could be, she lifted her hand up to the light; all except two of the fingernails were attached. They were loose and holding on by a thin layer of skin, but still intact.

  ‘There’s something under two of these nails; Abe, can you get a pair of nail clippers and tweezers?’

  Despite the grimace on his face he did as he was asked. He also spread some paper towels onto the other table to catch any trace evidence when she trimmed the nails above it. Abe sifted through the detritus as she worked. Grabbing a pair of tweezers, he prodded at some silt that has fallen from the sheet and pulled out two flakes of blue paint, holding it under the light so Beth could see. Beth’s heart skipped a beat at the sudden realisation that, perhaps, both bodies retrieved from the lake could be connected.

  ‘Put them on separate slides, please, I want to take a closer look once we’ve printed,’ she said, trying to suppress the anxiety in her voice. As much as she didn’t want these two drownings to be connected, she knew instantly and instinctively that they were. It was too much to be a coincidence. If the samples were paint flakes and of similar property to the sample from Leah Burton’s fingernail then it meant that both women had either crossed paths or been in the same vicinity before they went into the water.

  Thirty

  Josh parked in the almost empty car park of The Hounds Inn. The only other car was a rusted old Mondeo. It had been years since he’d seen one of those. He’d driven one himself not long after he first passed his test.

  ‘Earth to Josh.’ Sam’s voice startled him. He turned to look at her. She waved a hand in front of his eyes and he blinked.

  ‘I’m reminiscing about my misspent youth.’

  She looked from the car to him. ‘I don’t want to know! The car park is empty, business can’t be good; even at this time of year there’s normally some tourists still knocking about.’

  ‘Or the food is crap.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  They walked to the front door and Josh pushed it hard, only to find it locked. There was a sign on the wall next to it with the opening times. It didn’t open until six thirty on a Friday. He frowned; what a peculiar day to close. Lifting his hand, he rapped loudly on the peeling black painted door with his knuckles. The sound echoed inside. They waited, but no one came.

  ‘Surely there’s someone in? Is this the only pub that doesn’t open on a weekend? It can’t be right.’

  He knocked again, and they were about to give up when they heard footsteps dragging from inside.

  Sam whispered, ‘I’m scared; who do you think is going to open that door, Bela Lugosi?’

  Josh chuckled as the door was unbolted from the inside and drawn back. A pair of eyes peered out of the gloom at them.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Police, we’d like a word about one of your members of staff. Can we come in?’

  The woman on the other side tutted loudly. ‘If you must.’

  She opened the door wide enough for them to step through. Josh went first. The smell of stale beer lingered in the air, along with the aroma of fried onion rings and burgers, which made his stomach groan. His type of food: hot, greasy and fried. The woman, who wasn’t as old as he’d first thought, sought shelter behind the bar, putting some distance between them. He looked around; it was actually much nicer inside than he’d imagined. It was modern and looked as if it had recently been refurbished.

  ‘It’s nice in here. I’ve never been in before.’

  ‘It looks like a dump from the outside, but it won’t when the lazy-arse painting contractor finally turns up to give it a coat of paint.’

  ‘Are you not busy on a Friday? I would have thought it was a good day for trade.’

  She shrugged. ‘In the summer yes, not so much this time of year. The owner likes to go out with his mates on a Friday. He won’t pay for extra staff when it’s quiet, so he’d rather shut the pub and open up later.’

  ‘Have you worked here long?’

  ‘Long enough. What is this, twenty questions? What do you want?’

  Sam spoke. ‘I’m DC Thomas and he’s DS Walker from Kendal CID. We need to speak to you about Julia Bach; when was the last time you saw her?’

  The woman sighed. ‘I’m Andrea Smile.’ Josh suppressed a smirk; Smile was quite the surname for someone with such a sour-looking face. She pointed at the bar stools, and they both sat down. ‘I couldn’t say for definite, but around a fortnight ago. Has she filed a complaint?’

  Sam answered. ‘About what?’

  ‘About our idiot of an employer, that’s what.’ She looked around as if to make sure there was no one else with them then continued. ‘He’s okay, most of the time. But he’s also an arrogant pig. He had a bit of a thing for Julia, but she wasn’t interested in him at all. Men aren’t her type, if you get my drift.’

  Josh was a little bit slower on the uptake, so Sam stepped in with the next question.

  ‘Do you know where she went? We’re trying to locate her.’

  Andrea shook her head. ‘I thought she’d had enough and left. We spoke a little but she didn’t speak very good English. Her roommate was better friends with her, she would know.’

  ‘Is she here?’

  ‘No, it’s her day off. She disappears to her boyfriend’s; he works at a hotel in Newby Bridge.’

  Josh wondered if the person they’d pulled out of the lake was Julia and felt a chill run down his spine.

  ‘Can you tell me your boss’s name and phone number? We need to speak to him. Also, the name of the hotel in Newby Bridge so we can go and find Julia’s roommate?’

  ‘Stacey Jefferson is her roommate, and her boyfriend is called Jack. He works at The Swan. Our esteemed employer is Marcus Johnson.’ She walked over to the cash register and opened a black book next to it. Picking up an orange sticky note, she wrote his mobile number down then passed it to Josh.

  ‘
One last thing: on the missing person’s report Stacey submitted she said that Julia had been talking about going home to Poland; do you have her home address?’

  ‘I don’t. Marcus keeps all the employee files locked up in his office. You’ll have to speak to him.’

  ‘Stacey also said that Julia had packed her suitcase and has never come back for it; do you know where it is?’

  ‘Yes, it’s in the storeroom. I’ll go and get it for you. Marcus said if Julia wasn’t coming back to clean out her stuff from the room and put it all in storage… he said he’d give her a month and if she didn’t collect it, he was chucking it into the skip out the back.’

  She disappeared, and Josh asked Sam, ‘What do you think?’

  ‘All a bit suspicious really, isn’t it? We need to speak to Marcus and find out what the situation was, how much he liked her and whether he believes she upped and left out of the blue.’

  They heard Andrea before she came back into sight, the wheels on the suitcase clattering along the uneven slate flooring. She came into the bar area dragging the case behind and with a small box tucked under her arm.

  ‘This is everything that Julia left behind; at least he can’t moan her stuff is taking up valuable space. You might as well take it with you. It’s a bit strange, I’m sure Stacey said her passport is in there. She can’t leave the country without it, surely; she’d want to collect that and her purse. But there is nothing as funny as folk. You wouldn’t believe what guests leave behind: brand-new walking boots because they have a bit of mud on them, North Face jackets galore, make-up, perfume. It never fails to amaze me.’

  Josh took the box from her, Sam the case.

  ‘Thank you, if we need anything else we’ll be in touch.’

  He was hoping that if she’d left behind her passport, she’d definitely have left a hairbrush or toothbrush, too, something they could extract DNA from to help identify her. He didn’t think things were looking hopeful they would find Julia alive. They loaded the stuff into the back of the car and headed back to the station, where he would hand the box and case over to the duty CSI, who could then go through it and send off the relevant stuff to the forensic science service labs. Hopefully, they’d have a positive ID for their Jane Doe soon.