Frozen Grave (Willis/Carter #3)(60)

‘One night, one woman,’ said Carter. ‘A woman in every town. It must save on the bed-and-breakfast bills.’

‘And it seems it creates income for his schemes,’ added Willis.

‘It’s not signed.’ Willis turned the pages over in her hand. ‘But Olivia Grantham’s name is here,’ said Willis as she handed Carter back the letter.

‘You know, I got back in touch with him,’ Harding said as she offered Willis a seat. ‘I was contemplating meeting up with him.’

‘Did he ask you to?’

‘Yes. He was keen to come and see me but it seemed like it had to be right then and I couldn’t. He was on the road. He lives a very strange life, travelling all week, literally on the road – coming home just at weekends. Did you interview him yet?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you think?’

‘I thought he looked like he drank too much,’ said Willis. ‘He was puffy and red-faced. He was sweating buckets.’ Carter nodded his agreement. ‘His clothes were immaculate: expensive shirts, shoes; he didn’t have a hair out of place but, behind the fa?ade, he looked frazzled.’

‘Really? When I met him, he was very slick, very ice-cool and in control. He was great in bed. Just needy outside it, I thought. Of course, if I’d known what I know now about him, I might have enjoyed stringing him along for a bit longer. Just to see how far he would go to con me out of money for his Spanish home.’

‘Money gained by fraudulent means,’ said Carter. ‘We need some concrete evidence of that.’

Willis was looking at the names on the letter again.

‘I can’t believe that these women will part with money that easily.’

‘I can,’ said Harding. ‘You fall in love with a man who seems like Prince Charming and you lose your grip on reality. That’s the reality, Ebony: if he seems too good, he probably is.’ Harding laughed.

‘He’s been lying about everything,’ said Carter. ‘His life hangs on a lie – he told you he had a son, didn’t he?’

‘Yes. He even spoke about his son going to university.’

‘Five years ago, he was killed in a car crash,’ Willis said, looking at the letter. ‘Our files show it was a car crash. Ellerman was driving the car he was killed in.’

‘Strange. Why would he bullshit about that? Especially to someone like me, who’s not interested?’

‘He has created a world for himself,’ said Willis. ‘He has to keep control of it. He has to be sure to always tell the same lie to everyone, otherwise it’s too hard to remember.’

‘So does someone hate him enough to want to set him up? Is it about the money or the other women?’ Carter asked.

‘What about his wife, Doctor?’ asked Willis. ‘Did he give anything away about his wife?’

‘No, but if she was anything like me, she wouldn’t have stayed with him. She can’t possibly stay after this.’ She tapped the letter with her forefinger. Harding had the remnants of burgundy nail polish on her nails.

‘Unless she already knows and she doesn’t care,’ said Willis.

‘I think we need to go to his house and have a chat with her,’ Carter said.

‘I’d love to be a fly on the wall.’ Harding laughed. ‘Strangely enough, his discomfort is doing something for me. I can still meet him if you like.’

‘I think it would serve no purpose, Doctor . . . but thank you,’ Willis said – she could see that Harding would love to push it. ‘It will smell of entrapment if we aren’t careful.’

‘Okay.’ She smiled. ‘Spoilsport. But what if one of these women rings me?’

‘Find out as much as you can but tell her that you only met him the once,’ answered Carter. ‘Don’t give anything away.’

‘Can I take a copy of this now?’ He held up the letter.

‘Be my guest.’

Carter copied it on the photocopier in his office.

‘It did make me laugh.’ Harding took back the original letter from Carter. ‘It’s a hell of a list. Even for Ellerman – he’d have to be superhuman to get round all these women. God bless the great God, Viagra.’





Chapter 34


‘Who are the women on his list and what kind of women are they, Pam?’ Harding had returned to the Whittington, and Carter and Willis were now in Robbo’s office.

‘Here’s one of his ladies: Lisa Tompkins, she runs a gym in Brighton,’ Pam answered Carter. ‘Here’s another: Emily Porter,’ Pam read from her notes. Willis and Carter came round to her desk, to look at her screen. ‘She’s a schoolteacher in a private school in Taunton.’ Pam brought up the cover photo from the school’s brochure and pointed to a photo of a tall, slim, smiling woman in a tracksuit, standing erect, hands at her sides; she was flanked either side by a class of teenage girls with archery bows. ‘That’s her.’

‘Have you managed to get hold of her?’ asked Robbo.

‘I’ve left a message on her phone for her to call me but I’ll try again this evening.’

‘We mustn’t panic these women. Keep it casual in your questions when you ring.’