Page 21 of The Girl in the Grave
She stood up; her linen trousers were a lot more wrinkled than when she’d first put them on this morning. Grabbing her jacket off the coat hook near the door, she threw it over her arm and picking up her bag she followed Abe outside.
The drive home had been glorious, the air con blasting her full in the face, and the roads relatively quiet for a Monday night in the Lake District. She was excited to get home, had even stopped off at the supermarket for a piece of salmon and some fresh salad for her supper; there was no way she could eat red meat after today.
Despite the exhaustion, she took time to take a cursory check of the area before driving through the gates to her house. She wondered if the camera guy had managed to get the spare part for her. As she turned to get out, she noticed the letter she’d thrown into the footwell of the passenger seat, and sighed. Snatching it up, she decided to put it with the rest of them inside the house; there was no way she was givinghimthe pleasure of reading them.
Grabbing her bag of shopping, she climbed out of the car and let herself into her house. No dead birds today, thankfully. Setting the alarm again behind her, she headed to the kitchen where she opened a drawer and threw in the envelope, slamming it shut with her hip without even looking inside. Next, she unwrapped the piece of fish, placing it onto a baking tray with some freshly ground salt, pepper and a sliver of garlic butter. Sealing it in foil, she placed it in the oven, poured herself a large glass of chilled White Zinfandel and went upstairs to shower.
Back downstairs in a pair of cotton pyjamas, she took the salmon out of the oven, added a large heap of salad which she then smothered in full-fat mayonnaise. Tucking a knife and fork under her arm, she grabbed her wine and plate and let herself out of the sliding glass kitchen doors and took a seat at the wicker table on the patio which faced the lake. She could hear voices in the distance and focused on the water, searching them out. A loud splash followed by a high-pitched screech made her pick out the boat nearest to the shore. There was a group of teenagers messing around on it, drinking bottles of beer and jumping into the icy cold waters of Windermere. It didn’t matter how brightly the sun had shone on the water all day, it would still be freezing cold. The boat was quite some distance away, but the noise carried because it was so peaceful and there wasn’t any breeze. She smiled at them, just kids having fun.
She wondered if Chantel Price had ever known what it was to be carefree. Can’t have been much fun living in care with no family. A lump formed in her throat and she had difficulty swallowing the mouthful of food she’d forked in. Washing it down with a large gulp of wine, she made a silent promise that she wouldn’t forget the girl that no one had even noticed had gone missing. Would anyone even care that she’d been murdered? Beth was determined to find out. Although it was going against her best interests, she decided she would be paying Dalton View a visit tomorrow. She wanted to speak to the staff, find out as much about Chantel as she could. Beth owed her that, at least; someone had to fight her corner and she was more than happy to do it.
Thirty-Three
Sam drove them down the narrow street to reach the hotel, where several police vans and the dog handler were already parked up. A large group of tourists who had just disembarked from a coach hovered round with their cameras taking photos.
‘What the hell is going on?’
Josh jumped out of the car and jogged towards the flustered PCSO standing at the entrance to the Windermere Lake Hotel trying to move them on. He saw a look of fear cross her face when she recognised him and smiled back reassuringly; he didn’t want her to think he was angry with her: he knew how difficult big crowds could be. He heard a woman’s voice shout so loud behind him everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look back.
‘Move on now, please.’ Sam had her hands outspread, preventing the group from getting any closer to the hotel. Josh joined in and between the pair of them they managed to push them back some distance.
‘You can’t come closer, I’m afraid. No photographs, please.’
Sam pointed to their cameras and shook her head.
The PCSO whispered, ‘The bad news is they’re all guests at the hotel. The good news is that another coach should be picking them up any minute to take them on a sightseeing tour.’
‘Thank Christ for that. If there was any evidence out here, we can kissthatgoodbye.’
‘Sorry, Sarge. There was nothing I could do.’
‘It’s not your fault. Are they sending more officers to help out?’
‘I asked thirty minutes ago but there’s been an accident in Kendal that a couple of them got diverted to.’
‘Walker.’
Josh turned around to see that the dog handler, Jack, had joined them, leaving his dog in the car for now.
‘Jack. Good to see you.’
‘This is a bit of a cock-up. I doubt the dog’s going to be able to pick up much after they’ve been through.’ He nodded his head in the direction of the group of tourists.
Ashley, the PCSO, smiled. ‘Actually, they think the main scene is around the back of the hotel, at the staff entrance, and no one has been around there since Helen sealed the area off. Staff have checked the main entrance CCTV and there is no sign of the girl leaving that way. The manager said she had to have gone out of the staff exit, but there are no cameras around there.’
‘That’s something. Shame it’s in a blind spot.’
Josh, Sam and Jack all headed inside the hotel entrance, where they were met by a very attractive woman. Josh and Jack both stared a little longer than necessary. Sam coughed and smiled apologetically at the woman, who was pale and seemed visibly upset.
Josh held out his hand. ‘DS Joshua Walker, this is DC Sam Thomas and PC Jack Booth, one of the force’s dog handlers. Could you show us where the staff exit is and where it can be accessed both inside and outside of the hotel?’
She took his hand, shaking it firmly. ‘Of course. Estelle Carter, hotel manager. I’m so worried, the officer wouldn’t tell me what he’d found in Annie’s room. Will someone be able to talk to me properly about it?’
‘I’m sorry, of course. He’s just following procedure, which can be a little cold at times. As soon as I’ve taken a look at what he’s found for myself I’ll come and have a chat with you about it. Is that okay with you?’
This wasn’t strictly true. Even if she owned the hotel, it was a police investigation and he would only tell her what he needed to. The less people knew about the details of the case, the better. He couldn’t afford for it to be leaked out to the press. And he wanted to keep it between him and the killer; that way they could weed out the crackpots from the real thing and narrow down the suspect pool.
He followed as she led them through the hotel to a corridor and a wooden door with two frosted glass panels which had a big sign saying ‘Staff Only’ screwed to the front of it. She pushed open the door and they followed her through.
