Dead And Buried

‘You can’t keep secrets from kids of that age,’ said Nancy. ‘They know something is wrong, and they can get hold of the wrong end of the stick and blow it out of proportion in their own minds. It’s not fair to them, and it can cause a lot of problems. I know, because it happened to me when I was in my teens. My parents tried to keep me in the dark, never told me anything. They said they thought it was for my own good. But you know what? By the time they split up, I’d come to the conclusion it was all my fault. I worked out in my own mind that if they weren’t talking to me, they must be talking about me. I know it doesn’t make sense. But everything is so confusing and stressful at that age. Maurice and me, we agreed a long time ago that we wouldn’t be like that with our two. So we were as open as we could be about the trouble that our business was in.’

‘And about what happened that night?’

Nancy looked at her then, not understanding the question. Fry opened her mouth to ask it again, but changed her mind. Instead, she sat and gazed at Nancy Wharton, watching the expression on her face alter. It was as good as an admission. But it was one Fry hadn’t been expecting.

‘You didn’t need to tell them,’ said Fry. ‘Because they were right there, weren’t they? They were there when the Pearsons were killed.’

Nancy’s mouth was shut like a trap, as if she was determined to prevent any words spilling out. But she couldn’t control her expression. She hadn’t learned to do that, not even after those two years of keeping her secret.

‘Your son, Eliot,’ said Fry. ‘He’d been drinking, like his father. But he wasn’t used to the alcohol, not the way Maurice was. A big lad, Eliot. And angry, too. But his father would do anything for him — anything, right down to taking the blame for the murder of two guests.’

‘You’ll never get the evidence,’ said Nancy, with a bitter smile.

Fry stared at her, trying to analyse the meaning of what she was saying.

‘But Nancy — I think we’ll find the blood on David Pearson’s clothing is Eliot’s, won’t we?’

Nancy shook her head — not in denial, but in confusion. She no longer knew what to say, or how she could protect her family. Her entire rationale was falling apart right there and then, and she couldn’t cope with it.

‘And where is he?’ asked Fry finally. ‘Nancy — where exactly is Eliot now?’

‘I’m saying no more.’

With Mrs Wharton safely housed in a cell in the custody suite, Fry and Hurst drove to the house on the Devonshire Estate

Despite them hammering on the door and peering through windows, there was no sign of anyone being home.

‘Blast. Where could they have gone?’

Hurst took a call from Luke Irvine at the office. ‘Forensics,’ she said. ‘They’ve processed the smaller blood trace on David Pearson’s clothing and got a DNA profile from it. There’s a match on the database.’

‘Eliot Wharton?’

‘No. He doesn’t have a record, so he’s not on the database. This is a match to Josh Lane, the former barman at the Light House.’

‘Lane has a record?’

‘A couple of convictions under the Misuse of Drugs Act. Fined for possession of class B substances.’

‘Cannabis, amphetamines?’

‘Correct. According to Luke, intelligence shows that he’s been investigated for supply, but never brought to court. He’s lucky there. That’s a maximum of fourteen years for dealing, even class B. There’s also an indication he might have been involved in a trade in ecstasy at the Light House. Personal intelligence, never substantiated.’

So Lane had been the fourth individual. And Fry felt sure that Eliot Wharton would be a match to the other DNA profile.

She tried to call Ben Cooper and got an unavailable message, so she sent him a text. It was quicker, and at least she knew it had been done. He would get the message and could call her when he was free. Cooper been meeting Josh Lane at the Light House, hadn’t he? So he might know where Lane was now.

‘Diane,’ said Hurst, ‘if they were involved in the death of the Pearsons, and they know there’s still some evidence at the pub, perhaps in the cellar …’

‘… they’ll be anxious to destroy it before anyone gets to it.’

‘Yes, that’s what I was thinking.’

Fry watched a response unit pull into the street. She could leave them at the Whartons’ house in case anyone returned.

‘Becky, who’s up there at the moment?’ she said.

‘At the Light House? Scenes of crime. And Ben went there with Carol Villiers. I don’t know if they’re still there or not.’

Fry experienced one of those moments when her heart lurched and her mind was filled with an irrational dread. She tried to fight it, but her skin had turned cold, and terrible images began to surge through her brain unbidden.

‘Why would DS Cooper’s phone be off network?’

Hurst turned in astonishment at the urgency of her tone. ‘I’ve no idea. He could be in a dead spot. He could still be …’

‘… in the cellars?’