Frozen Grave (Willis/Carter #3)(48)

‘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.

He picked up the photo of Craig from the desk and held it in his hands. The room, the house, Dee, it all served to show him what a failure he was and he couldn’t bear it. He looked at his text messages. He had heard nothing from Paula. Lisa had texted him from the gym. It was her third text this morning. She wanted him to phone her. He texted her back: Sorry, honey – on the way to a client’s. Will ring you later.

The reply came straight back:

Don’t forget – you promised you’d come to my friend’s party tomorrow eve.

Shit . . . Ellerman hadn’t so much forgotten it as chosen not to remember it. He had intended to cry off at the last moment. Tomorrow was the start of the weekend, for Christ’s sake. Weekends were sacred. They were the time when reality kicked in, when Dee became his focus, when his struggle to make it financially through another week ended, for good or bad. He wanted to take Dee out somewhere nice this weekend. He wanted to force her to sit opposite him in a restaurant and to look into his eyes. He wanted to tell her she had the power to change everything. Only she could make things right. They’d drink wine and laugh and flirt and then they’d come back to this bed and make love like they used to. No other woman felt like she did. All the others were pale imitations of her. He sighed as he lay down on their bed and closed his eyes and his hands clenched the bedspread; he twisted it in his fists. The bed had become a place of torment to him – so close to her but so far away. He wanted to feel her body next to his whilst they slept but she seemed to manage to take up the smallest space, furthest away, and he heard her get up every night after she thought he’d fallen asleep. He heard her moving around. He was sure she slept in Craig’s room.

Lisa came back with another message:

Never mind. I don’t feel that well. I’m not going. But I just need to see you, please.

He replied, relieved:

Yes, I feel the same, honey. I’ll ring you later, I promise. Love you. xx





Chapter 26


Willis looked at the address she had in her hand for Ellerman.

‘Satnav says it’s on this street. I’ve got a name, not a number, guv. The house is called The Cherry Orchard.’

‘Must be extremely posh not to get a number. Look at the size of these houses.’

‘There it is, guv . . .’

Willis pointed across the road to a high hedge and a collection of storm-damaged trees behind. There was evidence of some recent tree surgery.

‘Someone’s been tidying up,’ Carter said.

‘We passed a van up the road.’

‘Yeah, could be – chances are, if they do one house they do a lot on the same street. We’ll go and talk to him after we talk to Ellerman. There’s one of the cars in the drive, Eb.’ Carter wound down his window to get a better look at the Range Rover. ‘Bet that costs a lot in fuel.’

‘Need to keep up appearances, I suppose, guv.’

‘Yeah, how much did Pam say Ellerman bought this house for?’

‘Four million, ten years ago.’

‘He bought right in the boom. Boom . . . bust . . . So he must have a fair mortgage on it.’