The Forgotten Room: a gripping, chilling thriller that will have you hooked. Ann Troup

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СКАЧАТЬ to the casual introduction.

      Maura was already aware that the colour had drained from her face when DS Poole spoke. ‘Hello, Miss Lyle. Take a seat – you’re looking a bit pale.’

      Cheryl didn’t notice that he already knew Maura’s name and carried on regardless. ‘There’s been an awful discovery on the building site. They’ve dug up human remains!’

      Maura looked at Poole. ‘I didn’t imagine for one minute that you’d come about the broken window.’ This place just got worse and worse, rocks through windows, dead bodies – the bloody place was a cornucopia of crap. At the realisation that her words were a mite callous, Maura had the grace to blush. Had she become that hard?

      Poole frowned at her. ‘Indeed, though we do take all such incidents seriously, I don’t feel there’s a connection with our current enquiry.’

      ‘I don’t see that I can be of much help then. I only arrived yesterday and know absolutely nothing about anything to do with Essen Grange.’

      Poole’s frown didn’t alter. ‘I don’t expect you do. However, I do need to talk to Mr Gordon Henderson and I’m led to believe he’s in a somewhat vulnerable state. Consequently, we will need you to be present.’

      ‘I said I’d do it, but they said I had to be interviewed too, so I can’t be the responsible adult for Mr Henderson,’ Cheryl said by way of explanation, as if not wanting anyone to think she might have been overlooked for the role. There was a thin sheen of sweat slicked across her brow. She looked profoundly nervous about the police presence and seemed to be silently pleading for something. Maura didn’t have a clue what, so turned her attention to Poole.

      She could feel Poole’s gaze boring into her, going past her crumpled clothes and her tousled hair. It was as if he was trying to find out what made her tick just by staring and it made her feel brutally exposed. ‘Fair enough, but he’s asleep – I just checked so it might be better to talk to Cheryl first. I’ll try and wake him, though he might be a bit reluctant to talk to you if his routine has been disturbed.’

      Poole nodded. ‘I understand he suffers from dementia.’

      ‘So I’m led to believe, yes.’

      Maura noticed the slight rise of Poole’s eyebrows at that.

      ‘I’ll need to speak to the odd-job man too, and anyone else connected to the house and the land. I understand that Miss Estelle Hall is currently in hospital having suffered a serious fall, is that correct?’ He addressed his question to Cheryl, much to Maura’s relief. Just being in the same room as him was making her feel nauseous, and to think she had come here to escape reminders of the past.

      ‘Yes, she fell down the stairs and broke her hip. She also broke her jaw, like I said, so she won’t be able to talk to you.’ Cheryl’s voice was high and thin, a reedy note of panic wheezing through her words.

      ‘What happened? Which hospital?’ Poole was jotting things down.

      Cheryl gave him an impatient look and spoke clearly, as if she was talking to someone who had a hard time understanding plain English. ‘She fell, down the stairs. I don’t know how it happened. I wasn’t here. You’ll have to talk to Dr Moss. I don’t know which hospital; the General, I assume.’

      Poole peered at the woman, a quizzical look on his face. ‘Surely you know which hospital your employer was admitted to?’

      Glad that the attention was momentarily off her, Maura fought to hide a smirk as Cheryl treated Poole to a dose of her customary charm. ‘Hardly. I’m their cleaner, not their confidante. You’d best speak to her doctor. I’m just here to keep my nose and the house clean and cook for the old man – what they get up to is none of my business. It’s an old house, they’re old people, shit happens.’

      Poole’s eyebrows rose sharply this time, then he frowned and scribbled something further in his notebook. Maura would have loved to know what it said.

      He snapped the book shut, a move that made his colleague start a little. Maura had suspected that Detective Constable Gallan wasn’t giving the meeting his full attention.

      ‘Ladies, human remains have been discovered on land that until very recently belonged to Mr Gordon Henderson. We need to know what happened and why the remains were placed there. I need to speak to people who know the area and the people, and I need to speak to the owner of this house, and anyone else who has long-standing connections with it. I would very much appreciate your help in giving me the name of anyone who fits that category.’

      That he’d need to know that was patently obvious to anyone in the room with half a brain, or who had ever watched a police drama on TV. Although Maura felt that, after the previous night and just a few hours of snatched sleep, she might be functioning on less than a quarter of her own brain. ‘Isn’t it likely that the remains are old? I mean, this area is well-known as an ancient burial site. Surely the most likely explanation is that they’ve dug up some dead Roman or Anglo-Saxon or whatever.’

      Poole sighed and shifted on the edge of the couch to turn towards her. ‘As an officer of the law, I assume nothing, but like you I would have preferred to think the remains were ancient. However, unless the likes of Boudicca were serving cans of coke with their spit-roast boar, I think what we can assume is that these particular remains are very modern indeed.’

      Cheryl look entirely confounded. ‘Boudicca? Coke? You’ve lost me, Sergeant.’

      ‘It’s Detective Sergeant. A preliminary examination of the site revealed the pull-ring of a soft-drink can and a partially degraded crisp packet in a layer of soil beneath the body. It’s fair indicator that these particular remains have not been there for any significant length of time.’

      Maura’s breath caught in her throat just as Cheryl allowed a horrified “Oh” to escape her thin lips.

      Gordon was not happy and utterly refused to play ball with Poole. His only concern was that his lunch was due at one o’clock, it was Friday, and that it would therefore be tinned tomato soup and white bread with the crusts cut off and served in equally divided triangles. Poole shot a despairing glance at Maura, who shrugged and said, ‘Mr Henderson, would it be all right if we talked to you about this after your lunch? It is extremely important.’

      ‘I shall be taking my afternoon nap and will require my pills. You’ll have to come another time,’ he said, setting his mouth in a determined line while eyeing the clock. It was five to one and he was eager for his meal.

      ‘I’m not sure that’s going to be possible, Gordon. Is it OK if I call you Gordon?’ Maura said in a desperate effort to get the old man to comply. She wanted Poole out of the house and with no cause to return.

      ‘Young lady, you may not. You are expected to know your place.’ He pointed to the clock where the hands were creeping towards one.

      ‘Cheryl will bring it right on time, just as she always does. Mr Henderson, do you understand the seriousness of the situation? A body has been found on land that used to belong to you,’ Maura pleaded.

      He looked away and a petulant, whining ring entered his voice. ‘I don’t deal with the estate. I don’t know anything about it. Talk to Estelle.’ At that point Cheryl backed through the door carrying a tray precisely as the clock struck one. There was no distracting him from it after that. Maura had seen people fixated like this before, but they hadn’t been suffering from dementia. СКАЧАТЬ