Killing in the Shadows

Book 4: DI Joe Plantagenet

by Kate Ellis

Genres: Police Procedurals; Traditional Mysteries

Synopsis

Detective Inspector Joe Plantagenet returns in the new book in Kate Ellis's gripping crime series set in Yorkshire.

The quaint Yorkshire village of Eaglethorpe was a sanctuary for famous TV personality, Lexi Verity, away from prying eyes and camera flashes. But a life led in the spotlight can create envy in its shadows.

When Lexi is found dead in her swimming pool, DI Joe Plantagenet and DCI Emily Thwaite are called to investigate. The murder of the celebrity is front-page news and the pressure is on the Eborby CID to find the killer.

As Joe and Emily unravel the last moments of Lexi's life, they discover various motives for murder - as well as events in Lexi's distant past that would horrify the public if the facts were ever revealed.

Sinister secrets are also haunting the residents of the ancient cathedral city of Eborby nearby and Joe must decide which lead to follow, before a killer strikes again.

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 90000

Sample

Freya Greengrass liked the girl who came to play in her bedroom at night. The girl wore pink pyjamas, rather like Freya’s own, and she had a smile that lit up her pale face and showed the gap where her front tooth was missing. The girl said her name was Anna.

Freya was glad she hadn’t seen Jack, who sometimes appeared in her brother Tom’s room and stood by the wardrobe saying nothing and looking sad. Each time Jack appeared Tom said he could smell burning, and Freya hoped she wouldn’t see him because she knew she’d be scared. Just like she’d been when Anna visited her for the first time.

Now Freya was used to Anna and she didn’t mind her new friend playing with her toys. Although she sometimes wished she’d go away and let her sleep.

But Tom said that you don’t need to sleep when you’re dead.

Lexi Verity was beautiful. Everybody knew that, including Lexi herself. Top TV presenter, actress, and friend to the rich and famous, she had achieved it all. She was a familiar face and there were few places she could go without being recognised. But success can bring with it envy and criticism. And sometimes it attracts attention of the unwanted, and even dangerous, kind.

Lexi was now in her late forties and she knew that one day the edifice of her career would start to crumble with her looks. But for the time being her star remained in the ascendant and she was determined to make the most of fame while it lasted. And she was careful to hide all the doubts and insecurities of her past behind a confident mask.

Just over two years ago, on her forty-seventh birthday, her second husband, Milo Pilton, had finalised the purchase of a Georgian rectory in the beautiful village of Eaglethorpe in the North Yorkshire countryside, and before moving in, Lexi had added touches that the respectable churchmen who’d once lived there could only have dreamed of; a thorough refurbishment including a large swimming pool extension and a state-of-the-art hand-made kitchen she rarely ventured into because her housekeeper, Margaret, did the cooking.

In spite of her initial misgivings, Eaglethorpe had become her refuge, the house where she felt safe. Her happy place, where she could go make-up-free and don jogging bottoms and a T-shirt as she relaxed, away from the public gaze and the obligations of fame.

She’d been grateful that the locals were thoughtful enough to allow her a modicum of privacy, which meant she was able to walk into the village without being mobbed by selfie-seekers. In days gone by, fans would ask for autographs, but now they seemed to want photos featuring themselves within embracing distance of their favourite stars. Lexi found it intrusive, although she forced herself to smile and play along because it was all part of the job.

Since being targeted by a stalker, she had guarded her privacy fiercely. But that was four years ago, and the man was now safely behind bars. Even so, the whole incident still made her imagine threats in every shifting shadow. It had felt like a loss of innocence; the realisation that peril might lurk in the most unexpected places and strike at any time. Yet she kept telling herself that Milo had been right. She was much safer here in the countryside than in the streets of the capital.

That particular September day, her husband was away in New York on business and Margaret was out, so Lexi found herself alone in the house, relishing the peace in the elegant company of her Siamese cat, Horatia. She’d endured a busy couple of months filming, so solitude was just what she needed, and only birdsong and the buzz of a distant hedge trimmer somewhere in the village broke the blessed silence.

Very few people realised how Nathan Corde had changed her life, and memories of that terrifying time continued to gnaw away at the back of her mind, uncomfortable as a stone in a shoe. She’d first encountered Corde when he’d asked meekly for a selfie with his favourite star; it was something she was used to, so she’d thought nothing of obliging. After that, things had escalated and he’d turned up most days, stationed nearby in a restaurant, walking a few paces behind her in the street or staring from the edge of a crowd. In the end she’d lived her life looking over her shoulder, her eyes searching every scene for that familiar, hated face. Back then she’d felt anything but safe. She’d been terrified.

She was well aware that her stalker wouldn’t stay behind bars for ever. He was bound to be freed from prison at some point soon, but this was something she couldn’t bear to think about. Milo had told her that at least her nightmare was on hold for the time being, and she knew he was right. She had to try to banish the dark thoughts that had begun to plague her as Corde’s inevitable release date drew nearer. If any threat arose in the future, she would let the police deal with it just like they had before.

She felt that a calming swim in the pure blue waters of her indoor pool would clear her head and provide a distraction, so after changing into a white swimsuit that showed off her gym-honed figure to perfection, she lowered herself into the water, taking deep relaxing breaths. She was about to begin her first length of the pool when she heard the sound of a door opening somewhere in the house. Suddenly alert, she stood up and listened.

There it was again. Definitely another door opening, closer this time. Lexi’s body tensed and she sank down into the water until it covered her shoulders. Somehow she felt less vulnerable that way. She could hear steady footsteps getting closer, so in the end she decided to call out.

‘Hello. Who’s there?’ she shouted as she climbed out of the pool and grabbed a fluffy white towel from a nearby sunlounger, wrapping it around her like a defensive shield.

But there was no reply. Just an ominous silence when even the birds seemed to stop singing. Then the door to the pool room opened very slowly.

It had been a quiet day in Eborby’s criminal investigations department. Until the call came in.

‘Lady by the name of Margaret Cramp,’ DS Sunny Porter announced loudly as he came to a halt by DI Joe Plantagenet’s desk. Sunny, in spite of his name, always managed to look miserable, even when he was the bearer of good news. Joe wondered whether someone had called him Sunny as a joke once and the name had stuck.

Joe looked up from his paperwork. ‘Margaret Cramp? What about her?’

‘She’s just called me. She’s the wife’s cousin, you see.’

The tentacles of Sunny’s large extended family seemed to reach all over the area. But Joe had never come across the name Margaret Cramp before. ‘So what did she have to say?’

‘She’s just found her employer dead. Drowned in her private indoor swimming pool, Margaret says.’

Joe took a deep breath. ‘Where is this?’

‘Eaglethorpe. It’s a village ten miles north of here. Very posh. Eborby’s stockbroker belt – not that you find many stockbrokers around these parts.’

‘Have uniform attended the scene?’

‘They’ve been notified and they’re on their way. Thought you and ma’am might want to go and see what’s happening.’

Joe rose from his seat and peered through the window into DCI Emily Thwaite’s office. It was empty, but his eyes were drawn to the colourful children’s paintings decorating the walls, giving the space a comfortable family look.

At that moment Emily appeared, sweeping through the main office. She was a small, plump woman in her forties with wild fair curls and a pretty face. She’d transferred to Eborby from Leeds some years ago when her history teacher husband, Jeff Timmons, took up a new post in the city, and from the start, Joe had got on a lot better with her than he had with her predecessor, DCI Miller. Miller had been ‘one of the boys’ and Joe had never felt he’d fitted in, so Emily’s arrival had come as a refreshing change. And he admired the way she somehow managed to combine her domestic life with Jeff and their three children with her career as detective chief inspector in Eborby CID. He never ceased to wonder how she managed to do it so successfully.

Emily looked from Joe to Sunny. ‘What’s up? Something happened?’

It was Joe who answered. ‘Sunny’s just taken a call. A woman’s been found dead in a private swimming pool in Eaglethorpe.’

Emily raised her eyebrows. ‘Eaglethorpe. Don’t they call it the Yorkshire Cotswolds, where the celebs live? Suspicious?’

‘Not sure yet.’

‘OK, let’s get over there.’ Things had been quiet in Eborby over the past few months, with all the crime seeming to be of the petty variety, and she sounded eager for a challenge.

‘It might be an accidental death,’ said Joe.

Sunny chipped in. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Margaret said there are signs of violence. Blood.’

‘Who’s Margaret?’ Emily asked.

‘The wife’s cousin. She’s the dead woman’s housekeeper. She got back from visiting her friend in hospital and found—’

‘OK,’ said Emily, tossing Joe her car keys. ‘You drive, Joe. I had two glasses of Pinot Grigio with my lunch.’

Nathan Corde had done his homework while he was inside. He’d already found out that she’d moved up north to a village near Eborby. He’d got a place in a hostel in the city, but even there he hadn’t felt near enough to her, so he’d made his own arrangements.

While he’d been inside he’d read everything he could about survival, and he was now confident about living off the land. This meant he could watch from the bushes outside the large and luxurious pool room as she’d swum length after length in that white swimsuit of hers. Perfect.

Some of the lads inside said Lexi Verity was past her best. But to Nathan she’d be for ever young. For ever beautiful. For ever his.

Joe and Emily sat down on the pristine white leather sofa opposite Margaret Cramp. The housekeeper was nursing a cup of tea provided by one of the uniformed officers who’d been first on the scene. She looked as though she was in shock – and she didn’t appear to be the type who’d shock easily. A sturdy Yorkshirewoman with steel-grey hair and shoes that could only be described as sensible.

She had already been through what happened. She’d left the house at one o’clock and returned from the hospital around half past four, the time she’d specified to her employer.

‘I panicked and called Sunny because I thought he’d know what to do.’ She took a tissue from her sleeve and blew her nose. ‘Ms Verity was a lovely woman. And really down to earth for someone that famous. When I asked for time off to visit my friend, she told me to take as long as I liked and she gave me some money to buy chocolates. I’ve heard that she didn’t hesitate to sack people who worked for her if they weren’t pulling their weight, but she’s always been very good to me.’

Joe made a note of her last statement. If the dead woman had made an enemy of a former employee, that might be a good place to begin the investigation.

‘What about her husband?’ Emily asked.

‘Lord Pilton’s gone to New York on business. He’s in the antiques trade.’

‘Lord Pilton?’ said Emily.

‘He’s the fourth Baron Pilton. But Ms Verity, or rather her ladyship, doesn’t use her title or her married name in her professional life.’

Joe noted the use of the present tense. The reality of Lexi Verity’s death hadn’t yet sunk in. ‘When did he go?’

‘Last week. He’s due back in a few days.’ Margaret put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh dear. Someone ought to let him know.’ She sounded nervous, as though she imagined that making the painful phone call would be her responsibility.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Emily quickly. ‘We’ll see to that. Who else works here?’

‘There’s Andrei and Maria. He drives for her ladyship because she lost her licence last year, and Maria helps with the cleaning. They’re from Romania but they speak good English.’

‘How did they get on with Ms Verity?’

Margaret hesitated. ‘All right, I think.’

‘You don’t seem too sure,’ said Emily sharply.

‘Well, I did overhear Andrei asking Ms Verity for a pay rise. She said she’d think about it.’

‘When was this?’

Margaret frowned. ‘It was last week. Between you and me, I think Maria’s keen to get back to Romania. She said they want to open a business there.’

Emily caught Joe’s eye. The last thing they wanted was a pair of potential suspects fleeing the country.

‘Where are they now?’ Joe asked, trying to sound casual.

‘They’ve gone to Eborby. It’s their day off and Andrei took the Merc in for a service this morning. He said they’d be spending the rest of the day in town. Shopping, I suppose.’ Margaret sniffed. ‘Maria likes shopping. Andrei moans about how much she spends.’

‘So you know Andrei quite well?’ said Emily.

‘Not that well, but he’s always ready to chat. He likes to practise his English.’

‘We’ll need to speak to them. What time are they expected back?’

‘Not until this evening. Andrei told me they were planning to go for a meal.’

‘So Ms Verity pays her staff quite well?’

Margaret’s cheeks turned red. ‘I suppose … I’ve no complaints.’

‘But Maria wanted more?’ Emily watched Margaret’s expression closely.

‘I think Andrei was embarrassed to ask for more money, but Maria rules the roost in that house.’

Joe could tell that Margaret liked Andrei but she didn’t feel the same about his wife. But he knew it would be unwise to form any opinion until he’d actually met the couple.

Emily gave him a small nod. It was time to move on. ‘Does anyone else work here apart from yourself, Andrei and Maria?’

‘A company comes in to see to the gardens twice a week. Coming Up Roses, they’re called. They seem very good,’ Margaret added.

Joe made a note. Anybody who’d had dealings with the victim had to be interviewed and eliminated from their enquiries.

‘What about recent visitors to the house? Someone new, perhaps?’ said Emily.

Margaret pressed her lips together in a disapproving line, and Joe suspected they were about to learn something interesting.

‘If I’m in my flat or out of the house her ladyship sometimes answers the door herself. The only visitor I’ve actually seen is that man who calls himself a psychic. But if you ask me, he’s just a con man.’

Joe saw Emily nod eagerly. He knew she was a sceptic. Joe would never have considered himself gullible or easily taken in, but he did prefer to keep an open mind, to allow for the possibility that some things people couldn’t explain or understand might still be real.

Emily leaned forward, a hungry look in her eyes. ‘What’s this psychic’s name?’

‘I believe this building used to be a pub.’

‘So we’ve been told,’ said Elspeth Greengrass, trying to hide her impatience. Her neighbour, Penny, had done her a favour by taking in her parcel, so it had seemed churlish not to invite her over the threshold. But she wished she’d hurry up and leave.

Penny was still clutching the parcel, as though she was unwilling to relinquish her excuse for calling round. Elspeth saw her gaze wandering around the room, taking in the improvements the builders had made before the family had moved in three weeks before.

‘I’ve heard the pub shut years ago, long before I moved in next door,’ Penny said with a faraway look in her eyes. ‘I can’t help thinking of all the good times people must have had in this room.’ She sounded as though she was eager to keep the conversation going, but Elspeth had things to do.

‘Hopefully we’ll be able to keep up the tradition.’ Elspeth’s husband, Ben, was standing near the new wood-burning stove, enjoying the warmth on his legs. It was a warm mid-September day, but there always seemed to be a chill inside Church Cottage. ‘In fact we wondered whether we should have a housewarming.’ He looked at Elspeth, but her expression gave nothing away.

Ben and Elspeth Greengrass had sold their box-like modern house outside London and moved north when Ben was offered a new job at Eborby University. The seventeenth-century former pub in a quiet street near the city centre, situated opposite a small, picturesque medieval church, had seemed a dream come true. The price had been ridiculously low for such a substantial building, and at first they’d assumed this was because of the dilapidated state of the place coupled with the fact that property was a lot more affordable up north. However, since moving in, Ben had begun to suspect that there were things about the house that hadn’t been mentioned in the estate agent’s details. It had been a busy time for them, so the whole transaction had been done online. Now he was angry with himself for not visiting before they made their offer.

‘Well I must say, you’ve done wonders with the place,’ said Penny.

‘Thanks,’ said Ben. ‘But we can’t claim all the credit. Our architect had most of the ideas. Wish he’d managed to keep some more of the original features, though,’ he added softly, earning himself an admonishing glance from his wife.

There was no trace now of the building’s origins – the builders had seen to that – but Elspeth visualised a gleaming mahogany bar where their new three-seater leather sofa now stood. The estate agent had emphasised the generous size of the living room in the sales literature, along with the historic nature of the building. That was what had attracted them to the property in the first place. Although the fact that it was Grade II listed had scuppered some of Elspeth’s more ambitious interior design plans.

‘Your builders were here a long time, but I expect there was a lot to do,’ Penny said as she finally handed the parcel over with a nervous smile. ‘I only moved here five years ago and the house was empty then. I was told it had been that way for years.’ Her smile vanished. ‘I was never really comfortable living next door to an empty building.’

Elspeth caught Ben’s eye. ‘Any particular reason?’

‘Oh, er, just that empty buildings tend to attract vandals and drug users … that sort of thing.’

‘Is there much of that kind of thing around here?’ Elspeth asked, a challenge in her voice.

‘Well, er … it’s everywhere nowadays, isn’t it? But you’re here now, so …’ Penny took a deep breath. ‘How do the children like their new home?’ she asked, as though she was desperate to prolong her visit in the hope of being granted the guided tour.

‘They’re fine,’ said Ben, although the statement didn’t sound very convincing.

‘I expect they’ll enjoy the little garden at the back.’

‘Once we’re cleared all the rubbish away,’ said Elspeth. ‘Well, thanks for bringing the parcel over.’ She took a step towards the door in the hope that their visitor would take the hint.

Penny was all smiles as she said her goodbyes, assuring her new neighbours that if they needed anything they shouldn’t hesitate to knock on her door. She managed to hide her disappointment well, but Elspeth suspected she was smarting at the curt dismissal.

Once she’d gone, Ben turned to his wife. ‘You made it pretty obvious that you were keen to get rid of her. I think you hurt her feelings.’

Elspeth shrugged. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage a nosy neighbour.

‘We could have mentioned the—’

‘Why? It’s none of her business.’

‘But she’s lived here longer than we have. And did you notice the way she asked about the children? I wonder whether we should have told her what’s been going on.’

‘I don’t want people poking their noses into our business.’

Ben shook his head. ‘Well, if you’re not worried about what’s been happening, I am.’

Elspeth sighed and sat down heavily on the new sofa. The children, Tom and Freya, were at their after-school club, but it would soon be time to pick them up. Then they’d have to start dealing with the problem all over again.

‘Freya said the girl kept her awake all last night wanting to play. She was exhausted this morning. And Tom refuses to stay in his bedroom.’

‘So he came into our bed. Kids do that sometimes,’ Elspeth said, turning her head away. ‘They’ve been unsettled by the move. And Freya’s always had an overactive imagination.’

‘You can’t wish this away, Elspeth. There’s definitely something odd going on in this house.’

Elspeth knew that her ability to ignore the problem was starting to irritate Ben. Ever since they’d moved into Church Cottage she’d felt a barrier forming between them. And she knew in her heart of hearts that their new home was responsible.

‘Nice,’ Emily whispered to Joe as they made their way through the thickly carpeted hall to a large swimming pool extension that resembled the sort of orangery Joe had only seen in glossy magazines and the grounds of stately homes.

A cat appeared, an elegant creature with a lithe body and smooth creamy fur. Pedigree Siamese. Joe thought he spotted a smudge of dried blood on its flank, but the creature disappeared so quickly he couldn’t be sure.

‘Bit flashy for my taste,’ he said. ‘I think I would have preferred it when it was a shabby old rectory with a bit of character.’

‘Yes, it is a bit bling. All that white and gold.’ Emily grinned. ‘Rather Footballers’ Wives. Not that I’ve ever met a footballer’s wife as far as I know.’

Joe took a deep breath as they entered the pool room, now buzzing with activity as the CSIs in white overalls busied themselves around the scene of Lexi Verity’s death. Large arched windows took up the entire far wall and afforded a magnificent view of the manicured garden. The pool was surrounded with sunloungers and large, healthy-looking plants. There was a round spa at the far end, still bubbling. Nobody had bothered to turn it off. But the main space was occupied by a rectangle of discoloured blue water; the pool where Lexi Verity had met her death.

One surprising feature of the pool room was the huge mirror that occupied the entire wall opposite the window, at first glance doubling the size of the space. Joe wasn’t a particularly vain individual – his short time in the seminary training for the priesthood had drilled into him that pride and vanity were sins – but even so his eyes were drawn to his reflection.

In his late thirties, he had wavy black hair, blue eyes and a pale freckled complexion inherited from his Irish mother. In his youth he’d never had any trouble attracting women in his native Liverpool, and it was a woman who’d put paid to his priestly career. He’d met his wife, Kaitlin, when she’d sung at the church where he’d been posted during his training. Shortly afterwards they were married. The life of a priest being closed to him, he’d chosen to join Merseyside Police. But when Kaitlin died in tragic circumstances not long after their wedding, he’d decided to make a new start by moving to Eborby, where his father had his roots. There had been relationships since Kaitlin, but experience had taught him to be wary. Sometimes he envied Emily her chaotic but happy family life. Although he knew she’d had problems of her own in the past.

As he looked at his reflection, he noticed streaks of d. . .