Death by Indulgence Read online

  ‘Oh, my God…’ she heard Marcus mutter in disbelief as she forced open the doors with a sideways heave of her hips, catching a breath in her throat at the bitterness of the freezing air. He made no further objections once she had flung her knickers, with the accuracy of an international netball player, at the camera where they landed perfectly, obscuring the view from the lens.

  Stuck in the tree, fifty-three.

  She was cock-a-hoop and gave herself another round of applause. ‘Yay!’

  ‘Shut the fuck up!’ Marcus whispered, frowning with urgency.

  Ella stopped immediately and raced back to where he was pulling at Harry’s wrapped feet, sliding the body bag from the lift and across the concrete floor to the doorway. Ella helped him to drag Harry to the base of the large yellow waste bins at the rear of the bar area. They made some much-needed space by removing three similar shaped parcels from the bin. Then, using empty bottle crates, they managed a two-stage manoeuvre to raise the bundled Harry high enough to roll him over the rim. Ella, teetering in court shoes, saw Marcus wince as the body landed with a gentle bounce on top of kitchen waste and broken Christmas decorations. Silently and speedily they replaced the Christmas tree parcels on top. Ella had the final one in her hand when she stopped in mid flow. ‘Wait.’

  They consulted with each other in hushed tones, avoiding their voices travelling upwards to wake any staff member or resident from their slumbers.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We need to prove that he has left the building, otherwise they’ll search everywhere for him when he doesn’t appear in the morning.’

  ‘How the hell do you suggest we do that, Miss Know It All?’

  ‘You’re a surgeon, aren’t you?’ she asked quietly, knowingly. ‘We need a fingerprint to use on the security pad when we leave with his bags.’

  ‘We?’

  Thee and me, twenty-three.

  ‘Yes. We.’ Ella was buzzing with the intoxication of the deception she had devised. ‘Come on back to the lift. I’ll explain on the way.’

  Ella pulled the fire escape doors closed behind her and, in order to enable an easy return, she deliberately failed to secure them properly. In sharp contrast to Ella’s liveliness, Marcus was pale and shaking. ‘You want me to do what?’ he asked, eyes-bulging, mouth agape.

  ‘Would secateurs be the right sort of implement to do the job? That’s all you need to answer. Yes or no?’

  Ella let Marcus back into room eleven with the swipe card she had tucked into a deep pocket of her borrowed cardigan. He seemed drained of an ability to act, so Ella gave instructions to him as if he were a toddler.

  ‘Answer the question please.’

  ‘Well, yes… probably.’

  ‘Good. Sit down. Eat something sweet. I’ll be back just as soon as I’ve broken into housekeeping. Actually, I’ll have one of those Danish pastries if you don’t mind. Keep my strength up.’

  Baker’s bun, sixty-one.

  She reached across the dessert trolley that she guessed had been used earlier by Leonora and Trudy and grabbed the nearest pastry. ‘Yummy.’

  In the main housekeeping department on the ground floor, they stored vases, ribbon, oasis, mesh, and many other items necessary for the floral arrangements throughout the club. Ella could access these without alerting reception as long as she wasn’t seen by anyone else. Instead of creeping along the corridors like a seasoned cat burglar, listening for signs of life, watching for movement, she walked purposefully and with absolute confidence.

  Straight on through, eighty-two.

  After several minutes she returned and knocked gently on the door to Harry’s suite. Marcus must have been standing just the other side waiting impatiently because there was no delay before he opened the door wide enough for her to slip back into the room. She held aloft a pair of sturdy secateurs.

  ‘Grubby but good quality,’ Ella announced.

  Dirty Gerty, thirty.

  ‘I debated whether to clean them, but then realised that as he’s already dead, he can’t die of an infection.’ Ella laughed at herself. ‘Don’t look so appalled Dr Carver, I nicked some surgical gloves too. Thought they might come in handy. We go back to the bin, I jump in, rummage around and free an arm, you cut off the digit and we wrap him back up again. Oui?’

  ‘It’s such a bloody risk going back a second time.’

  ‘Well, we can leave it and hope the rubbish collections haven’t changed again this week. Christmas and New Year cause such a lot of disruption to normal schedules.’

  ‘No, you’re right. We take a finger and use that to open the side entrance when we leave together with the cases I’ve packed.’

  ‘Have you left some of Harry’s clothes out for me?’

  Marcus crumpled. ‘No. I didn’t think.’

  Ella let loose a disdainful laugh. ‘No. Clearly not, monsieur. Best leave the thinking to me. I have a superior brain and a mind for problem solving you can only dream of.’

  She bounded towards the open suitcase and extracted some items. A shirt, black trousers, a blue baseball cap with a white Ping logo on it. ‘I never knew he was into golf. How odd,’ she said placing the hat backwards on her head. It perched on top of her hair. ‘I need a coat and a scarf to tuck my hair into. Oh dear. Shoes. What size are his feet?’

  Buckle my shoe, thirty-two.

  Holding the trousers up Ella released a long groan. ‘So much for that idea. I’ll never fit into these.’ Discarding them she reached for the shirt. ‘Nor this. Go and get me some of your clothes to wear. I might stand a chance of doing the buttons up.’

  Waiting for Marcus to make his way to and from his suite two doors away, Ella returned to the issue of footwear. Using three pairs of socks she managed to make use of black ankle boots belonging to Harry Drysdale, they had a Cuban heel, to add height. ‘How do I look?’ she asked as Marcus stepped through the door, overcoat slung in the crook of one arm, suitcase pulled behind him. He glanced down at her feet.

  ‘Disturbing.’

  He opened his suitcase and handed her a pair of suit trousers, the jacket to match and a navy-blue roll-neck sweater. ‘This may stretch enough to accommodate your…’

  ‘Breasts, Dr Carver. Big fat mammary glands. Bags of fat. That is what they are. Not so thrilling now we have to disguise them, are they?’

  Marcus turned to face the opposite direction as she stripped off her dress and forced her way into the jumper. It appeared he could not trust himself to look at her. Once on, the trousers were held together by the hook and top button alone and were a little long in the leg, but once the jacket was in place Ella became an entirely different shape.

  ‘Now, can we go and harvest a finger then leave?’

  ‘We can’t leave too early. That would be suspicious,’ Ella responded, slipping on Marcus’s long tweed overcoat and pulling the collar to make it stand upright at the neck. She posed in front of a large mirror.

  Marcus was pacing again. ‘Oh, God. I have to get out of here. The stress is too much to bear and my wife is ill. I have to get home.’ He was forcing the words out.

  Something clicked within Ella’s mind and she rounded on him. ‘Why were you here if your wife is ill?’ She took the back-to-front cap from her head, remembering that she was still miraculously in possession of the hairpiece welded onto her head with hairspray, several pins and the length of tinsel.

  ‘Come off it. You know damn well that I come every fucking week to get my rocks off with a big woman.’

  Two fat ladies, eighty-eight.

  ‘Like an addiction is it?’ Ella asked, pushing for the elusive confession.

  Marcus looked to the floor. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Would you have raped me?’

  ‘Rape?’ Surprised, Marcus stood wide-eyed. ‘Good God! No. I wanted to make Harry jealous. He likes to indulge in his passion for art, especially naked women. The flesh as it moves excites him, so I was going to treat him to yours.’

  ‘I don’t under
stand. Don’t you have sex with Leonora?’

  ‘Yes, but not necessarily… look, Ella, not now, okay? We can discuss this later. Let’s get that finger and get out of this place before we get caught. There’s a good girl.’

  35

  The Search

  Tuesday 30th January

  ‘Cousin Dinesh runs a legitimate taxi,’ Lorna confirmed, looking up from her iPad and across at Konrad, who was making scribbled notes as she spoke. The kitchen table was awash with printed pages, the result of the morning’s searches into Malik Khan and his connection with Ella Fitzwilliam.

  ‘At least one of the family is kosher then.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s an appropriate turn of phrase when referring to a Muslim. I take your meaning though. On the surface, the Mal we see is a flashy git, who says he works in cyber security, prefers to be seen in designer gear, driving sports cars and playing fast and loose at the casino. Now and again he reverts to type, becomes an invisible Asian man and does some other security work for a previous colleague in her fledgling investigations firm. He collects debts for her, scouts out places, follows the odd mark and has been babysitting Ella Fitzwilliam at Buxham’s club by pretending to be her brother.’

  Konrad drummed his fingers on the pine table. ‘Yeah. What the hell is that all about? Tell me about her.’

  ‘Valerie Royal? She’s a dyed in the wool lesbian, hard faced, bitter and resourceful. Unfortunately, she’s also terminally ill. Strangely there is a strong link between her and Ella. Val employed her less than a year ago and she recently started paying the rent on Ella’s bedsit, keeping it going despite the fact that Ella got a live-in position at Buxham’s.’

  ‘Lovers?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Shall we pay Val a visit?’

  ‘In hospital?’

  ‘Well, if she’s that bad we’d better go soon before she pops her clogs. Don’t you think?’

  ‘Kon, where is your humanity? Let me phone the hospital and ask if she’ll agree to meet us.’

  ‘On what grounds is she likely to do that? Forget calling ahead. We’ll take Malik Khan along for the ride. He’s not daft. He knows Val hasn’t been truthful with him and something has gone hideously wrong for young Ella wherever she is.’

  Mal had been most helpful when Annette had grilled him about his part in supervising Ella’s first real foray into the world of private investigations. He had caved in and divulged much needed information about his involvement.

  ‘He was told to follow Harry,’ Konrad said aiming a finger at Lorna, ‘but my money is on Marcus Carver being the real target. So what have Val and Ella got in connection with him? Were either of them on his patient list, past or present? I wonder.’

  ‘I can answer that. Neither of them have any connection with Harry, none whatsoever, but Valerie Royal was a patient of a certain Marcus Carver back in 2012.’

  ‘Don’t tell me, she was one of the three women in the case against him who were discredited and vilified in court. Curious then that she should be stalking him now, never mind that she’s about to die; at last knockings.’

  ‘Maybe that’s exactly why.’

  Two hours later Malik Khan phoned Lorna’s mobile number. ‘I got your message asking me to call. What do you want, luv?’

  She cringed. Annette had been correct. It was bloody annoying being referred to as ‘luv’.

  ‘Konrad and I wondered if you would arrange for us to go with you as visitors to the hospital.’

  ‘Strike a bleedin’ light! How did you find out so quickly? She’s only just this minute spoken to me.’

  Lorna shot a look across at her husband who was sifting through information and pretending that he didn’t need glasses. His remaining eye was getting old with him and reading was becoming more of a challenge when the print was small. Konrad had a sheet of paper at arm’s length and was squinting when Lorna’s change of tone alerted him.

  ‘Oh, it was an educated guess,’ Lorna said, hesitantly. She had no idea whether Val’s health had nose-dived or whether Mal was referring to something else entirely.

  ‘You must have one hell of an education to work that out, luv. I’ve been phoning all the psychiatric units this side of Watford. I’d never even heard of Flemenswick. It’s bleedin’ miles away from here, luv. Miles away.’

  Lorna removed the mobile phone from her ear to silently mouth the words, ‘Malik Khan has found Ella,’ towards her husband whose head had popped upright. She grabbed a pen and scribbled the details down, trying to convince Mal she already knew the facts. Konrad stood to look over her shoulder as she responded, ‘Yes, Flemenswick, we’d never come across it either…’

  Konrad stepped to his left, tapped the name into Google and slid the iPad to his wife. ‘Derbyshire is a long way for her to have been admitted… unless she’s on a section and the local beds were full.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what the nurse on the ward just said. I’m the only family member they had details for and I’m not even her real brother.’ There was a lull. Lorna could hear Mal breathing and determined that he was buying thinking time. He sounded uncertain, softer. ‘Do you really want to come with me to see her?’

  Lorna shot an enquiring glance at Konrad before pushing the advantage. ‘Erm, well, we were wondering whether it might be best to speak to Valerie first and find out exactly what Ella had been doing while she worked at Buxham’s. We think Valerie may have a connection with Marcus Carver.’

  Mal’s unexpected reply caught Lorna by surprise. ‘Not just Val, luv. They both knew him - for all the wrong reasons by the sounds of it.’

  ‘Ella too?’

  36

  The Search

  Tuesday 30th January

  ‘What was your great scheme to bring about the professional destruction of Marcus Carver? And why has Harry Drysdale done a disappearing act?’ Lorna asked.

  Valerie Royal, face painfully drawn, pallid and debilitated, rested her head against the hospital pillow, eyes darting between Lorna and Mal, seeking assurances. ‘Is she okay? Did he hurt her?’

  ‘We dunno, mate,’ Mal replied. ‘We’re going to see her tomorrow. The Old Bill are on their way to pull in Marcus Carver for questioning about the other bloke’s disappearance. Harry Drysdale. They don’t know anything about Ella’s connection. Not yet. They will though, cos they’re asking all the staff at Buxham’s about the two fellas and the fat birds.’

  Lorna wrapped her slender fingers around what she could of Mal’s muscular arm and, taking the hint by moving away from the bedside, he allowed her room to question his friend in more detail.

  ‘Please, Val, try to be very accurate. What was Ella asked to do and what were your ultimate aims?’ Lorna asked.

  ‘Incriminating photos or video footage of him engaging in sexual deviancy with obese women. That was the assignment.’

  ‘By “him” do you mean Marcus Carver or Harry Drysdale?’

  ‘Both if we could, but it was Marcus Carver I was after. I couldn’t prove what he was doing in his professional life, so the aim was to show his wife and destroy his private life, but, as it turns out, she already suspected. Instead, with Ella’s help, I was going direct to the press to prove I was right all along and to stop him from doing more harm to his patients.’ The effort of explaining was too much. Val closed her sunken eyes.

  ‘Did you meet his wife then?’

  Val spoke quietly and her breathing became increasingly laboured as she tried to explain to Lorna the chain of events. ‘Yeah. The poor cow was completely taken in by her husband - the tosser. After their sham marriage I watched her getting fatter and fatter until she barely had enough strength to walk her own children to school.’

  ‘Were you stalking her?’ The familiar sound of Mal’s voice roused Val into opening her eyes again. She gave a weak smile.

  ‘I was observing. Not stalking. Eventually I introduced myself and told her my story. At first she was fuckin’ outraged. Not with the truth, but that I’d dared to
accuse her husband of such terrible things. She said he’d been cleared of any such wrongdoings and she threatened to report me to the police.’

  ‘Did she?’ Mal asked.

  ‘No. Don’t be dappy. It was all bluff. She knew deep down he was a perv, so I didn’t badger her. I didn’t even need to follow her anymore. As she wasn’t the type to respond to an aggressive approach, I just gave her a card with my therapist’s name and details, and suggested she make some changes for her health and the future of her children. I never saw her again after that.’

  ‘A generous act,’ Lorna said.

  ‘It wasn’t. Not really. She went the whole hog and lost huge amounts of weight. I knew he’d go astray if he couldn’t get it at home and then he’d help himself at work. Which he may well have done, I don’t know. Assuming that he was being true to form, I followed him and discovered how often he met with his lawyer, Harry Drysdale. Then I sent Mal on a mission to keep tabs on Mr Drysdale and that was when we found out about Marcus Carver’s weekly fat feasts at Buxham’s.’

  Mal stood by the window, staring out into the bleak winter sun that bounced from the metal of a smoking shelter in the car park below. He breathed heavily against the window causing condensation, obscuring his view. ‘You could have told me about him.’

  ‘I didn’t want you to treat me, or the job, any differently to what you normally would. It was better that you didn’t know.’

  The door opened gently accompanied by a knocking. Konrad poked his head into the room apologising for the interruption. He held his mobile phone aloft, waggled it and beckoned to Lorna, indicating for her to join him outside in the corridor by tipping his head in that direction.