Frozen Grave (Willis/Carter #3)(74)

‘I got a text from the Dogger last night,’ Harding said.

‘What did he say?’

‘Just that he was still waiting.’

‘What did you take that to mean?

‘I messaged him on Naughties and said I’d be in touch but I haven’t yet. Could be that.’

‘Then send a message now, please – we may catch him before he starts work. Ask him if he’s all right and tell him you’re sorry for not making it but you were attacked by persons unknown in the car park. Let me know what you get in response. Did you ring the Audi garage yet about your car?’

‘Yes. I said someone will be along to pick it up.’

‘I’ll get that organized now with Sandford. Keep me informed and I’ll do the same. I will need to look into your Naughties account, if that’s okay? I’ll make sure it’s just me and Willis.’

‘Yes, okay. When you looked at the Naughties website, did you see my profile?’ she asked.

‘Hard to tell.’ Carter was lying. He had looked for it and he had found it. He knew Harding’s body very well. He’d been near it many times. He’d imagined her naked more than once. But when it came down to it, it had been her hands that had given her away. He’d watched them work countless times. She had old hands for her age. She had short fingernails, except when she had acrylics put on for something special, and this had been such a time. Harding always went for the same colour on her nails: dark burgundy. Yeah, the hands had definitely given her away, even when they were parting her labia for the camera.

‘That means, yes – then, okay. I have nothing left to hide, as it were. It doesn’t bother me anyway – I just don’t want to see T-shirts with photos of my bits on the front.’

‘Of course.’

‘I mean it, Carter – I’m holding you personally responsible.’

‘Can we have your laptop?’

‘No, you can’t. Don’t push your luck.’

‘Do you always send messages from your laptop? Carter asked.

‘Yes, I do.’

‘If we send a message and he checks the IP address, he’s going to know it’s not you.’

‘Then I’m going to have to do this with you. I’m not having technicians dismantle the hard drive in my laptop.’

‘Okay, I understand. Go online at your usual times and reply to any messages you have. We’ll be over to see you later. Did you reply to the Dogger?’

‘Not yet.’

‘When you do, keep it interested but vague.’

He finished up his conversation and stood and picked up his coat.

‘Don’t get comfortable, Willis – we’re off to talk to Mrs Ellerman.’

They parked up and walked across the road to the house. Carter was watching the movement at the kitchen window. A shadow passed there. They stood and waited after ringing the bell. Dee Ellerman was dressed in black leggings and a dark tunic top. Her dark hair was scraped back into a ponytail. She had large dark eyes that looked tired and slightly dazed as she came to the door. Carter wondered if she was on medication.

‘Sorry to bother you. Mrs Ellerman?’

‘Yes?’

They showed their warrant cards. ‘Can we come in for a chat?’

She looked from one to the other, before stepping back into the house.

‘My husband isn’t home.’

‘It’s you we’d like to speak to.’

They followed her as her slippered feet shuffled across the parquet floor and into the living room. The parquet floor gave way to green-flecked carpet.

‘Would you like us to take off our shoes?’ He could see by her face that she wanted to say yes but instead, her eyes flicked towards the kitchen entrance. ‘We’re happy to sit in the kitchen, if that suits you better?’

She led them into the kitchen, which was L-shaped with a living area at one end.

‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked.

‘No, thanks.’ Willis couldn’t risk spilling anything. She was clumsy to the extreme.

‘Love a coffee, please,’ said Carter. ‘We won’t keep you long, Mrs Ellerman. Thank you . . .’ he said when she handed him a cup. He took a sip of the coffee and tried not to grimace. ‘We wanted to have a chat with you about your husband. He seems to have got himself in a spot of trouble with complications in his life.’

‘The letter, you mean?’ She sat opposite Carter and Willis.

‘Yes. You’ve seen it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did your husband show it to you?’

‘God, no! I got a copy in the post.’

‘What did you make of it?’

She sat with her elbows on the table, her hands clasped. She stared at her hands. ‘I was expecting it.’

‘How do you mean?’ asked Carter.

‘It’s not the first time women have got in touch with me.’ She glanced up at them both.

‘This has happened often?’ Carter said, smiling sympathetically.

‘It has increased in the last five years.’

‘Since your son died?’ asked Willis.

‘Yes.’ She looked from Willis to Carter. ‘Craig. My son was called Craig. My husband was responsible for his death.’