Frozen Grave (Willis/Carter #3)(50)

‘Is that what you think my motive would be? A mere ten thousand pounds? That’s ridiculous.’

‘Maybe, but whoever set her up to go in that building may not have expected her to get killed. They may have aimed to just teach her a lesson, or give her the kind of thrill they thought she wanted – after all, she was a thrill seeker. Who’s to say someone didn’t just take it a step too far?’

‘Not me.’

‘Not your style, derelict buildings?’

‘No.’

Carter paused. The kitchen was still. ‘Where did you usually meet?’

‘We met in many places. I told you that before.’

‘No, you told me you’d only met her a few times. “We met in many places” sounds like more than a few.’

‘We met at her flat. We sometimes went away.’

‘Have you many investors in your Hacienda company, Mr Ellerman?’

‘A few.’

‘Women that you meet?’

He didn’t answer at first then he bristled. ‘You know I’ve been racking my brains to think where I’ve heard your voice before, Inspector, and I am pretty sure it was you who phoned me pretending to be from Naughties customer services. If that’s so – I’m not an expert in law but I know someone who is – and that is unethical to say the least.’

‘Was it a man with a cockney accent?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sorry, Mr Ellerman – you lost me there. That’s the trouble with the cockney accent – we all sound the same. Okay, thank you, Mr Ellerman. Have a good day.’

Carter turned on his heels and Willis followed. They reached the car and got in. Carter didn’t start the engine. He sat looking at Ellerman’s house.

‘I want to know every deal Ellerman has ever done.’

‘Yes, guv. But . . .’

‘What?’ He turned to Willis.

‘Is it because he’s a tosser or is it because he might have murdered Olivia Grantham?’

‘Point taken. I will not let my dislike of Mr Ryanair Jetsetter get in my way. Olivia Grantham must have drawn up some legal paperwork about the money she invested. We’ll find something.’

‘Hector has gone through her paperwork from her flat. There was nothing about Ellerman or Hacienda Renovations.’

‘Then we need to go into her office and see if she left it there somewhere.’

Willis’s phone rang. She looked at the caller number on her screen and declined the call.

‘Your mum?’ Carter looked across at her.

‘Yes. It’s the hospital again.’





Chapter 27


After they’d gone, Ellerman paced around the kitchen, thinking what he should do. He had to keep focused, positive. He went into his office, sat at his desk and logged on to his Internet bank account, bringing up his statements. He had to see exactly how much more he needed to cover expenses at home and abroad this month and then he would be able to make a plan to find the money from somewhere. He spent the next hour moving money around and jotting figures down – no matter how hard he tried, it didn’t add up. He spent the evening watching television with Dee. They ate pasta with a bought sauce. Ellerman picked at his. Neither of them spoke. Dee went to bed early. The next day they hardly saw one another: Ellerman worked in his office and Dee worked in the garden or watched television by herself. By Sunday they had begun to row. Dee had cried herself to sleep and Ellerman had drunk almost a whole bottle of brandy.

On Monday morning, Dee went out without telling him where. He got up, made himself some coffee and then paced about the kitchen.

He picked up his phone and wrote a text and sent it to several contacts:

Remember I love you.

And then he wrote another to Megan:

Coming down today. Be with you at three.

He knew what he should do now. He’d go to Megan’s first and charm her, push the idea of Spain again and show her the photos. Then he’d go and see Emily and get her to transfer ten thousand and that would see him through the next ten days and by that time he might have some results from the yacht deals.

He went and repacked his bag hastily, then he went into the bathroom and looked at his wife’s shelves and saw the bottles of perfume he’d brought her back from his travels abroad. Some of the bottles were still in their boxes, cellophane on. He slipped his hand into the back of the shelf and pulled out Angel. He particularly liked that smell but his wife never wore it. He also picked up a bottle of Chanel No. 5. He put his bag in the boot of the Range Rover, then headed out of London and took the scenic view down on the A303 towards Devon. The further he got from London the better he felt. He sang along to his music. By the time he turned into Megan’s courtyard he was in a great mood. He switched off Santana’s ‘Black Magic Woman’ and stretched as he got out of the car. The sun was glorious. The cold air – reviving.

Megan met him at the door. He kissed her.

‘Close your eyes and hold out your hands,’ he said as he placed the Chanel No. 5 in her outstretched palms.

‘How kind.’ She looked at it and he knew she would never wear it. Come to think about it – he would have been better off if he’d given that to Paula and chosen a book for Megan, one of those arty photography ones. Damn – he should have thought about that.