Frozen Grave (25 page)

In the evening, Carter went to the men’s room in the pub in the centre of town – the Fat Pig was warm and cosy and served great food. They were waiting for their
food to arrive. Willis fiddled with her cutlery – she was starving and trying not to show it.

‘You worked with Dan long?’ Tucker asked, whilst drinking a bottle of real ale.

‘Just over a year.’

‘He’s a great bloke. You’re lucky – there’s a lot you can learn from him. Great detective.’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘I was made up when I heard he’d got promoted. It was too long coming.’

‘I know. He definitely deserved it.’

‘And some. Took him long enough.’

‘Yes. How do you know one another?’

Tucker took a few seconds as he waited for the waiter to finish setting down the condiments.

‘I used to work in the Met.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. We worked together. I went undercover on a job, a paedophile operation. It was messy. Kids traded for favours in the drug world. Kids taken out of children’s homes just to
entertain dignitaries. We uncovered someone really high up. I was told to lose files, to shut up. I was told I didn’t see what I know I did. I was told to make a false statement. Ultimately,
I was told to resign or face dismissal. I went to Dan. He was my superior. He was my sergeant. Dan took it as far as it could go and he took me off undercover. I decided to resign but Dan said we
should fight it. We did and it was a five-year battle; in the end, I took what was offered to me – a job with no hope of promotion. I came back here to my roots and have worked here ever
since.’

‘Any regrets?’ Willis asked as she looked at his face. He had the look of an angry man, disappointed in himself.

‘Yes.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘A few. I wish I’d taken it further – it never felt like justice. I never cleared my name.’

‘But if you’d been dismissed you would have messed up any career you tried to have after the force.’

‘Yes, and I love my job. I just wish I’d played ball.’

‘You’re not serious? You wish you’d falsified information? You acted really honourably.’

‘Yeah – and where did it get me? Perhaps I could have done so much more if I’d stayed in.’

‘Are the men still serving who you were on the team with?’

‘Oh, yes. Those are the fuckers I said were as guilty as shit . . . sorry . . .’

‘Don’t be.’

Carter returned. The food arrived at the same time.

‘Was thinking . . .’ said Carter. ‘Could Ellerman really be that clever?’

Wednesday early evening, Ellerman arrived to find Lisa outside the front of her place, putting out the rubbish; she lived on one of the roads near the station in a tiny
one-bedroom terraced house with a dark lounge and a minuscule kitchen.

She stopped and watched him park. She kept an eye on him as he opened his boot and took out his bag.

‘Trainers?’ she called out. ‘Hope you remembered them.’

Ellerman bent to look inside the boot. He moved his arms around and pretended to rummage. The cold air made him shiver. He longed to get in somewhere cosy and warm. For a few seconds he
contemplated closing the boot and getting back in the car and cranking up his music and his heater and driving away, anywhere. Then he ran through the list of possibilities and decided this was
probably the best option for now.

‘Damn and blast.’ He emerged from the boot and shook his head, disappointed. ‘I could have sworn I put them in there. Sorry, honey. I don’t mind waiting here while you go
out for a run.’

‘No, it’s okay, the weather is closing in anyway. I’m not keen on getting soaking wet.’

‘Really?’ He slipped his hands around her waist from behind and pulled her hard to him. She laughed.

‘Yeah, you’re right – better than a gym workout. Come on then.’ She took him by the hand up her front steps.

‘Whoa . . .’ Ellerman pulled back and stayed on the first step.

‘What? You used to rip my clothes off in the hallway. What happened? Thought you’d be gagging for it, seeing as you haven’t had it for over a week.’

‘I am, of course, honey, it’s just I’m feeling a bit coldy.’ He sniffed.

‘Then why did you come?’

‘I thought you said you weren’t feeling all that well. I thought I’d come and we could have a duvet day and snuggle under it and watch films and drink bottles of
wine.’

‘I don’t feel so bad now. I think it was inactivity.’ She screwed up her nose in disgust. ‘The last thing I need is to get drunk.’

‘Oh. Well, maybe I should go?’

‘It’s up to you. I know you explained about the letter but it doesn’t make me feel any better.’

‘Honey . . .’ Ellerman pulled her back down to him from the step above. ‘I’m sorry if someone’s upset you with that pack of lies. I don’t even know most of
the women on that list, I’ve never even met them.’

‘Where were you all week? You didn’t answer your phone. It’s impossible to get hold of you in the evenings. Your phone goes straight to voicemail.’

‘I have to switch it off, honey, I’m with clients.’ She sighed. ‘If you want me to go, honey, I will,’ he said, looking pathetic.

‘No. You’re here now. Let’s walk down to the seafront and get some fresh air. We can grab a drink on the way back and buy something for dinner. Unless you want to eat
out?’

‘Well . . . perhaps.’

‘I thought not.’

The Brighton seafront was bracing. As Ellerman walked along he turned his face from the bitter wind, and wondered if he really was getting a cold. He didn’t feel well.
His stomach was churning, his head pounding. He felt shivery. He reached out for Lisa’s hand. She was striding along as usual. She had to win at everything. She had to be the best. She wanted
a kiss. She stopped and held him back. She looked up at him and frowned.

‘Are you feeling okay? Your eyes are watery.’

‘It’s the cold.’

‘Athletes use it to recover all the time.’

‘Not sure I need a cryochamber at the mo. Probably prefer a hot toddy.’

‘You poor old thing. You’re falling apart on me!’

‘Not quite. I need to fly off to Spain, I think. I need to warm my bones.’ He turned to her. ‘You do believe the house exists, don’t you, honey?’

She didn’t answer. ‘Let’s go and eat somewhere and get out of this cold,’ she said.

‘Okay.’

She steered him to a pub that they’d eaten in a few times. She wanted to sit under the patio heater outside but he ignored that.

‘Open a tab,’ he said to the barman as he ordered a large single malt and a large glass of white wine for Lisa. He didn’t ask her if she wanted it; he was hoping she’d
soften a bit with alcohol. He took the menu from the counter.

‘Let’s sit over here.’ He picked up his coat and headed for a table that a group had just left. It was nearest to the fire. Lisa got there first and doubled up athletically as
she slid behind the long oak table and into the corner of the old church pew, the fire to her side and the rest of the pub to her front.

‘You okay? Come on, Granddad.’ She laughed. Her voice came out squeaky and sharp in the soft ambience of the pub.

Ellerman didn’t answer. He stood tall by the side of the pew and slid the scarf from around his neck, then carefully placed his gloves on it before folding his coat on the top.

‘There . . .’ He pulled out a chair for himself, a little way from the fire, and smoothed back his hair as he settled down to take his first sip of the deep amber liquid. He was
aware she was watching him. She knew she’d overstepped the mark. She’d been rude.

‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘Here’s to . . . us?’

Even as he faltered, hesitated, he knew by the look she shot him that she wasn’t thinking along those lines.

‘What are you having to eat?’ he asked her. He’d already looked at the menu. He was having a man-sized portion of something stodgy that she would hate. No salad tonight. He
needed potatoes or pastry and lumps of red meat. She would opt for the lentil pie, the beetroot salad. She wouldn’t have pudding. She wouldn’t have cheese. They ate their dinner in
silence. They glanced at the others in the pub. They smiled at one another occasionally. Lisa didn’t want another glass of wine. It made her tired, grumpy. Ellerman was flying after three
large whiskies. He finally felt ready to flirt. He didn’t want to go home. The thought of going back out into the bitter cold made him miserable. Lisa had become Lisa Long-face. She yawned
and fiddled with her glass and she still wasn’t talking.

They trudged back to her cold house and went to bed. Ellerman lay awake, listening to the sounds of people passing outside. The orange from the street lamp made the room light. They hadn’t
had sex. She hadn’t reached for him in bed. He was grateful. He hadn’t the stamina or the interest. She slipped out of bed in the morning and he sank into a deep sleep. He woke up in a
panic, throwing himself out of a deep sleep that had become a nightmare. He was trapped, he was in danger. He was about to be killed – someone was strangling him. He sat up and shook his head
to dispel the dream’s remnants. He pulled on his tracksuit bottoms and his socks and T-shirt and walked down the stairs. He could hear her in the kitchen.

‘Sorry – I was sleeping so soundly,’ he said as he poured himself a mug of coffee from the filter machine.

‘You were snoring constantly from two o’clock on.’

‘Must be the cold. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s over.’

He looked at Lisa and shook his head. He was just setting his coffee down on the table in the kitchen, just about to help himself to some cereal.

‘Sorry?’ He paused on the way to the cupboard. ‘You mean us? Our relationship?

‘Yes.’

She turned away from him and began tidying her breakfast things away.

‘Can I ask why?’

‘Do I need a reason?’

‘Well, I think you owe me one. We’ve been together for a while.’

She turned back from the sink. ‘Yes, and look how far we’ve progressed,’ she said sarcastically, her voice high-pitched. ‘Two years and we’ve got
nowhere.’

He hated it when her voice took on a shrieky edge to it.

They stared at one another for almost a minute before he shook his head, turned back to the table and picked up his coffee.

‘I thought you understood the situation – the fact that I can’t leave my wife just yet but I fully intend to . . . and then there’s the house in Spain . . .’ He
pulled out a chair to sit at the kitchen table. He was trying to stay calm. In truth, he was reeling a bit. He hadn’t expected it.

‘Yes.’ She went and picked up her trainers from their place beside the back door and sat down opposite him. ‘Let’s talk about that.’

‘Okay. Of course. What is it you want to talk about?’

‘When? I want to talk about
when
.’

‘As in?’ He swung his head from side to side and his expression screwed into an awkward smile.

‘There must be a timeline, a timescale? You? Me? This house I’ve invested in? When –
when
, for fuck’s sake?’

‘The internal walls are being plastered; the garden is being landscaped. The pool is in the process of being dug. It’s all happening now.’

‘You said that last time.’ She slipped her feet into her trainers and fastened them up.

‘I will ring my builder right now if you like and I can ask him what he’s working on today.’

‘You’re a master at sarcasm, JJ, but you are getting tangled in your own lies.’

He looked at her face. He had not seen this side of her. Where had his sweet little gym bunny gone? Where was the girl whose girlish looks, whose large black eyes were always filled with a sweet
dark passion, always anxious to please him, to see that he was happy? She looked demented today. She looked angry enough to kill him, but at the same time she looked terribly sad. When had he seen
that look before? So many times. Dee. It was Dee’s disappointment all over again.

‘I’m so sorry I’ve upset you, my darling. You mean the world to me. I can’t bear to lose you. Let’s not fall out. I promise you – absolutely
promise
you – that it won’t be long. Can you wait for me, darling, please?’ He reached out a hand and covered hers. She snatched it away.

‘It’s too late. I was waiting to see what you’d do when you arrived yesterday. I know you’ve been seeing someone else. You’ve lied about everything.’

‘I promise you, darling . . .’

‘Don’t bother. I’m sick of your promises. They don’t mean jack. I’m going for a run and I want you to leave while I’m out. I don’t want anything of
yours here when I get back.’

He watched her open the back door and she turned to look at him.

‘I actually feel sorry for you. You’re a sad fuck-up. You’re too old for me. You’ve got old since we met. Or maybe I never noticed it like I do now.’

Lisa rested her back against the door frame and looked at him with pity. She couldn’t do what had been asked. She hated him enough but her hot head got the better of her.

‘Give me my money back, JJ, and I’ll chalk it up to experience. I’ll know better next time. We had some good times but you’re a liar and a bad one. Money back in my
account by the end of the week or I am going to take legal action and I’m not alone.’

Carter and Willis were on the way back from Exeter to London. They stopped at Gordano Services outside Bristol and grabbed a Costa coffee to go.

‘What did you think of Scott?’ Carter asked as they walked back towards the car. ‘Not bad-looking? You could do worse?’ He winked her way and grinned.

She shook her head. Turned away, smiling. ‘You never give up, do you?’

‘Come on – I could see you liked him.’

‘He’s a nice man.’

‘Yes, nice. Single – tick. Doesn’t have a train set in his attic – double tick.’

‘I told you that in secret. Darren’s train set was high-speed.’

‘Look – I’m only saying your past boyfriends have been a little dull. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so interested in someone. Give it a go.’

She didn’t answer. She played with the lid of her coffee cup.

‘Eb, listen to me – I think sometimes you worry too much about your past – about your mum. She isn’t part of who you are. She is mentally ill. You’re not. You seem
to date nerdy normal guys as if you’re saying: “Look, this is me – normal!” But you don’t realize there is no such thing. You should use what you have to bring to the
table. Don’t fight it. Nothing will make you “normal”, thank God! Now take a chance on life and stop being so scared.’