Death on the Lake, Jo Allen [e reader TXT] 📗

Tyrone had been in the force for less than a year and already she’d heard people muttering, not completely in jest, about how long it would take him to rise to the rank of Chief Constable.

Still, whatever was going on behind the scenes, she was there to be a presence. She was there to look official and — she guessed — show a rich local family there was nothing to worry about. Fine. She could spend the morning sitting drinking coffee and looking at the view while Charlie and Tyrone took statements. It was a rare opportunity to do something more interesting than paperwork.

She got out of the car and crossed to the door, which opened before she had a chance to ring the bell. A woman whose shoulder-length brown hair rang with copper highlights, chic in a creaseless sky-blue linen frock that skimmed her knees, stood in front of her. A diamond the size of a pea hung, round and fat, on a gold chain around her neck and her perfectly made-up face bore an expression somewhere between sorrow and irritation. ‘Good morning. I’m Miranda Neilson. You must be the detective they said they were sending along. I do hope something terrible hasn’t happened to that poor girl. But do come in. I’m afraid my poor stepsons may have been the last to see her.’

Ashleigh introduced herself, then followed Miranda Neilson through the house into the huge kitchen. ‘One of your men is talking to Will in the lounge. The other is with Ollie in here.’

There were voices from the living room — Charlie’s deep, local one, and the high-pitched, slightly nervous tones of a youth. In the kitchen, sitting opposite a young man with floppy hair, a pale face and dark rings under the eyes that the beginnings of a summer tan couldn’t erase, Tyrone paused in his note-taking and gave her a reassuring smile.

‘This is my stepson, Ollie.’ Miranda waved a hand in his direction. ‘Ollie, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, but Sergeant O’Halloran is here to supervise the search for Summer. Though of course I’ve every confidence she’ll be found safe and well. Coffee, Sergeant?’ She turned away to the coffee machine at Ashleigh’s nod.

Ollie Neilson, with the manners drilled into him by a good education, bounced to his feet and offered Ashleigh a hand, but he didn’t meet her eye. Guilt, she recognised, was all over his face. The previous night must have been a sleepless one for him. ‘Ollie, nice to meet you. There’s nothing to worry about, just routine. Carry on talking to PC Garner, and I’ll listen in.’

Tyrone waited a polite moment while Miranda brought coffee and Ashleigh took her seat, then coughed politely. ‘No need to wait, Mrs Neilson.’

‘Of course.’ She backed away. ‘PC Garner has already spoken to me,’ she said. ‘I was away yesterday afternoon, with friends in Kendal.’

The door closed behind her and the heels of her sandals clicked down a stone-floored corridor. A moment later she appeared in the garden that sloped down towards the lake.

Turning back to Ollie, who was folding his fingers endlessly together like a nervous bride, Ashleigh was struck by the woman’s self-confidence. What kind of a relationship did Miranda have with her stepsons? A good one, judging by the way Ollie had looked after her when she left, as if he was desperate for her not to go. Or maybe she was the only person there he thought would support him.

‘So, Mr Neilson.’ Tyrone was barely three years older than Ollie, but the difference in maturity was palpable. ‘Let’s just go over it again for Sergeant O’Halloran. You said you spent yesterday afternoon with Summer.’

Ollie Neilson, catching his breath, gave Ashleigh a sidelong look that rather too obviously took in her assets, and allowed himself the kind of snigger that young men with one thing on their mind never quite realise anyone else can hear and interpret. ‘Yes. Will and I are up here for the summer. We’ve both taken a year out before we go to uni and we got back last week.’

‘You’re eighteen?’ Tyrone asked, surely for Ashleigh’s benefit because he must already have gone over that.

‘Nearly nineteen. We went to school young. Ahead of most of our year.’ Ollie sounded like a man not short of self-belief. ‘Last year we bummed around in Australia for a bit, went to South America, the Far East. That sort of thing.’

‘And you knew Summer,’ insisted Tyrone, politely.

‘Yeah. We met her last year. She taught — teaches — watersports at the marina and Will and I like a bit of that. We went down there last week when the weather was good. Sunday was her day off, and her boyfriend was working, so we said she could come up and we’d have the afternoon on the boat. Miranda was away, and Dad’s in Frankfurt.’

‘Do you know her boyfriend?’ Ashleigh asked, watching Miranda as she stood and stared across the water.

‘No, only that he lives along in Howtown and works on one of the farms down there. But if he’d been free we’d have asked him to come along, too.’ The way he shifted in his seat clearly indicated that Luke Helmsley was never intended to have any part in what the twins might have planned for Sunday afternoon.

‘And so Summer came along at…what time?’ Tyrone made rapid notes at the side of his pad, reminding himself of things to ask.

‘About noon. We went out on the Seven of Swords and had some lunch and…stuff.’

‘The Seven of Swords?’ Despite her intention to leave the questions to Tyrone, Ashleigh intervened. The constable had missed that little detail, but then again, he would. As far as she knew he was a man for intense practicalities, and he couldn’t possibly know the card she’d drawn that morning.

‘Yeah, that’s our boat.’ He jerked a head towards the lake where a sleek, white vessel sat fifty yards or so off the lake in front of the house.