Frozen Grave (17 page)

‘We heard about a Martine when we went to the hostel – we need to find her – she’s one of Toffee’s protégés. She could be just scared without Toffee
but instinct tells me she must have something to hide if she scarpered.’

The next morning Zoe made sure she was called when Simon came into the hospital. She was there within twenty minutes. Simon looked up at her and smiled as she approached.

‘Fancy a home-made brownie?’

Simon stood and picked up his jacket. ‘Lead the way. You said the magic word: brownie.’

Zoe quickly tidied up the front seat of the Corsa and got rid of the crumbs on the seat.

‘Sorry, I never meant to let the kids eat in the car but there we go – rules, huh?’

‘I know – to be broken. Please don’t worry,’ Simon said as he got in and buckled up.

‘Okay. Hold tight . . . only kidding.’ She smiled across at him and thought how, out of the hospital environment, he looked so much more calm.

‘Your mum won’t mind us invading her like this?’

‘No, she needs something to do in the day when the kids are at school. I’m always telling her she should get a job or do some charity work or something.’

A ten-minute drive and they were outside Zoe’s house. Her mum walked past the window and saw her car pull up. She waved. Zoe could see her eyes go towards the passenger seat, checking
Simon out.

At the front door she made the introductions: ‘Simon, this is my mum, Diane. Mum, I’ve been bragging about your brownies.’

‘They’d better be good then.’ Diane held the door open to let them in. ‘Come in and I’ll get some tea on. Tea or coffee, Simon?’

‘Has to be tea with brownies.’

‘Absolutely, I agree.’ Diane watched him walk past and then smiled at her daughter. Zoe gave her mum a look that said: ‘Don’t be silly – don’t even think it.
I am not becoming a vicar’s wife.’

‘Please, Simon, have a seat.’ Diane put the kettle on as she watched Simon looking around the kitchen. ‘Do you mind sitting in here? It’s the warmest room.’

‘Of course not. Thanks so much for inviting me.’

‘You run the Faith and Light hostel, Zoe tells me.’

‘I do, yes. I don’t cook unless I have to but I’m a mean washer-upper.’

‘And you take the services at the multi-denominational church there?’

‘I do, sometimes. Do you go to the church near here?’

‘Yes. Or rather I did. I haven’t been for a few weeks.’

‘Months,’ corrected Zoe as she walked around the kitchen, folding her son’s clothes from the drying rail.

Diane looked embarrassed.

‘Zoe told me that your husband passed away. I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Yes. Thank you.’ Diane poured the tea and took a plate of brownies across to the kitchen table. ‘Please help yourself, Simon.’

‘Will you join me?’

Diane went back across to the sink. ‘Yes. Of course.’ She glanced at Zoe.

‘Mum – I’m going to check on the kids’ rooms while I’m here. Josh is missing some of his sports kit.’

‘Okay, love. As long as Simon doesn’t mind you deserting him.’

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I’m looking forward to chatting with you, Diane – can I call you Diane?’

‘Please do.’

Zoe took the piles of clothes and walked up the stairs with them.

‘Can I see a photo of your husband, Diane?’

‘Of course.’ She went into the front room and came back with a shot of them together.

‘This was before he got ill. On holiday in Palma. We used to go away often. Always tended to go back to the same places but you know what you’re getting then, don’t
you?’

‘Absolutely.’ He held the photo in his hands. ‘You look a lovely couple. You obviously made one another very happy. That’s a precious thing in this world.’

‘Yes. It’s even more difficult then, isn’t it? To lose your soulmate?’

‘Not lost. Still with you in spirit.’

‘I feel he’s lost. I worry that I’ve been living a lie and that we will never be reunited in any form. I try not to think like that. I’ve tried very hard to keep
believing but something’s missing in me now.’

‘Have you got new challenges in your life? We all need daily challenges.’

‘I think I have enough. I come here most days and help so that Zoe can pursue her career. I am always busy.’

‘Because if you felt you had any time, just whenever you could – we could always do with a hand in the hostel.’

‘I don’t know what use I’d be . . .’

‘You’re kidding! You’d be a godsend. You could teach the clients to cook basic food for themselves. You could listen to their troubles, sit and talk to them. It’s that I
wish I had more time to do things . . . and you could make us brownies as good as these.’

‘Okay.’ She brightened up. ‘I will certainly think about it.’

‘And Diane – I understand how you must be angry. It never seems fair. I can promise you, you will find your faith again. Don’t punish yourself, don’t go to church if you
don’t want to, but don’t block your faith out. It’s okay to question. We all have our faith tested now and again.’

‘Mr Ellerman?’ Willis walked in first, followed by Carter. ‘I am Detective Constable Willis and this is Detective Inspector Carter.’

‘I’ve been sitting here for half an hour. I understood this was just an informal interview?’ He was irritated.

‘It is, Mr Ellerman,’ answered Willis. ‘We thought you’d want to keep this as discreet and private as possible. So, in here is the best place to take a statement from
you. We won’t keep you longer than necessary.’

Ellerman shifted in his seat, impatient. Carter stayed quiet.

‘Okay, well let’s get on with it. What do you want to ask me? The officer who asked me to come in said it concerned Olivia Grantham.’

‘Yes – I’m sorry to inform you that Olivia Grantham was killed – we think she was murdered.’

‘No . . . how terrible . . . How did it happen?’

‘We don’t know why but she walked into a derelict building in Shadwell, where she was attacked. Where were you last Sunday evening?’

‘Sunday? I already told the officer on the phone; I was at home in Richmond. Poor Olivia.’ He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips.

‘Have you got someone who can verify your whereabouts?’

‘Yes. My wife; but I’d rather not involve her.’

‘Were you close to Olivia?’ asked Willis.

‘I wouldn’t say we were close.’

‘How long had you known her?’

‘We met a few months ago, I think it was. Maybe even as much as twelve months. We didn’t see one another often.’

‘When was the last time?’

‘Probably three weeks ago.’

‘And how was that?’

He shrugged. ‘Fine. She seemed okay – same as usual.’

‘Usual?’

‘Yes.’

‘What was usual for her?’

‘Well – you know . . . maybe a little obsessed with work, but not depressed or anything.’

‘Where did you meet that last time?’

‘I think it was at her flat.’

‘Which is where?’

‘Brockley. I think.’

‘What was your relationship with Olivia, Mr Ellerman?’

‘We were friends. I told you.’

‘Was it a platonic freindship?’

‘We had a physical friendship.’

‘You were lovers?’

‘On a casual basis, I suppose so.’

‘How did you meet?’

‘We met online.’

‘Where online?’

‘An adult-friend-finder service called Naughties. It’s a site for finding sexual partners. It’s an honest way of hooking up with a stranger for sex.’

He looked across at Carter. Carter sat opposite him and smiled politely but still said nothing.

‘Would you say your relationship with Olivia was just sexual?’ asked Willis.

‘Yes.’

‘You never went to dinner? You didn’t spend time with one another? You didn’t ring her for a chat – ask her how her day was?’

‘We may have had dinner. We liked the friendship we had. It was enough.’

‘Is that unusual for someone meeting on this type of site, to have dinner, to form a relationship? To become friends outside the bedroom? Isn’t it dangerous to become attached? I
thought the whole idea was that you meet, have sex and then walk away without forming a bond.’

‘No, not necessarily. It’s a starting point sometimes.’

‘So you formed a bond with Olivia?’ Willis asked.

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘I want you to think clearly, Mr Ellerman,’ she continued. ‘We have phone records of Olivia’s dating back five years. Your messages appear on them in the last two years .
. .’ She opened the file on the table and took out the page so that Ellerman could see the heading:
Messages sent and received between Olivia Grantham and JJ Ellerman.

‘There are many times that it appears you met one another. You talked to one another for nearly an hour sometimes. And you know what strikes me, Mr Ellerman? There seems to be a proper
relationship between you.’

‘Nonsense. It was just phone sex.’

‘In one text message she mentions her investment. What does she mean by that?’

‘No idea.’

‘Could it have something to do with your Spanish company – Hacienda Renovations?’ asked Carter, speaking for the first time.

Ellerman looked from one detective to the other. He watched Carter turn the page in the file and pull out the printout from Companies House.

‘Am I under investigation? I was told this was an informal interview. I want a lawyer here if you persist in cross-examining me.’

‘We only want to build up a better idea of her life, Mr Ellerman. I’m sure you will want to find out what happened to Olivia,’ Willis said. ‘After all, she was a friend
at least, wasn’t she?’

‘I told you, she was just someone I met for sex.’

‘Did you tell her about your Spanish renovations company?’ asked Carter.

‘I might have done.’

Ellerman shifted in his seat. He was sweating. A bead had begun to trickle down his temple.

‘Did she invest in any of your businesses?’

‘I can’t remember. I don’t think so. What does that matter, anyway?’

‘Everything matters, Mr Ellerman. Everything helps us to build a picture of her life.’

‘Did Olivia know you were married?’ asked Willis.

‘Yes, of course. I don’t lie about things like that. Look, I have absolutely had enough. I demand to be allowed to leave now. You’ve had quite enough from me and I feel very
threatened by your line of questioning.’

‘I understand,’ said Carter. He looked up at Ellerman and smiled politely.

‘We’re really hoping that we don’t have to ask you to come in again, so we are being as thorough as we can be this time.’ He turned to Willis: ‘Detective Willis, is
there anything else you’d like to ask Mr Ellerman before we thank him for his cooperation and send him on his way?’

‘There is one more question.’ She scanned down her notes. ‘Did Olivia mention that she was seeing someone else or had just begun a new
friendship
?’

‘No.’

‘Have you any idea who she might have been meeting on Sunday evening?’

‘No. I’ve said – I don’t have any idea. Can I go?’

Ellerman got up. Willis was scanning through the phone records again; she stopped halfway down the second page.

‘Sit down, please. Do you have another mobile number that you use?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Not even a back-up one that you keep for emergencies?’

Ellerman shook his head, annoyed. ‘I said – no.’ He sat back down heavily in his chair. ‘I’ve told you all I want to say.’ He stared straight ahead, his arms
folded across his chest.

‘Okay. Thank you for your cooperation,’ Willis said, closing the file. ‘I have to ask you not to leave the country and to be available for us to talk to you again if necessary.
Is this the best number to get you on?’ Willis read the number from the sheet pinned to the file.

‘Yes. I don’t want my wife bothered.’

‘I am sure you don’t,’ said Carter.

‘It’s not like that – it’s just that she has been depressed. I want some reassurance from you that she won’t be bothered.’

‘No guarantee – as Detective Willis said, Mr Ellerman, please keep yourself available and make sure that we can locate you easily enough and then that shouldn’t be a
problem.’

After the first set of interviews, Willis and Carter headed back to the Dark Side.

Robbo was at his desk, engrossed in sorting the images from the crime scene. Pam was at hers. Hector was out of the office. ‘How did the interviews go?’ Robbo looked back and forth
between Carter and Willis for an answer.

‘We interviewed four men who had some kind of encounter with Olivia Grantham. Only JJ Ellerman is of serious interest. The other three have watertight alibis. They only saw her once
each.’

Willis went to sign in to Hector’s empty workstation.

‘What was Ellerman like?’ asked Robbo. Pam stopped her work to listen to the reply.

‘He’s a smart-looking man.’ Carter looked towards Willis to confirm.

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘He cares a lot about his appearance. He keeps himself in good shape but he looks frayed around the edges. He sweats a lot. He is arrogant and thinks
he’s cleverer than he actually is.’

Carter smiled.

‘Exactly – couldn’t have put it better myself. He looks down his nose at the world. He is Mr In Control. Selfish, self-absorbed and ruthless.’

‘Nice guy then; can see you two warmed to him.’ Robbo smiled. ‘What did he say about his relationship with Olivia Grantham?’

‘He said as little as he could get away with,’ answered Carter. ‘He definitely didn’t want to talk about the fact that he might have been fond of her. But he admits they
went to dinner, they had a friendship besides just sex. But he didn’t seem to really care that she was dead. He certainly wasn’t that shocked by it. Do we know any more about him,
Pam?’

‘I think I’ve found him on seven dating sites so far,’ said Pam. ‘On three of them he has his photograph; it’s a version of the photo on his website, taken at the
same time by the look of it. He describes himself as someone slightly different each time – his age is always between forty and fifty. His height varies, interests always include classic cars
and his income is always huge. That seems to be the key for him – he is how much he earns. He wants everyone to know. In each of the adverts, he uses the same line: self-made man, used to
luxury.’