THE ASH LAKE MURDERS an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist (Detective Alice Rossi Mystery Book 1) Read online

  THE

  ASH LAKE

  MURDERS

  An absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist

  HELEN H. DURRANT

  Detective Alice Rossi Book 1

  Joffe Books, London

  www.joffebooks.com

  First published in Great Britain in 2022

  © Helen H. Durrant 2022

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling used is British English except where fidelity to the author’s rendering of accent or dialect supersedes this. The right of Helen H. Durrant to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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  ISBN: 978-1-80405-150-4

  For Margaret, sadly no longer with us but who spent many happy times with her daughter and son-in-law at their holiday home on a particular country retreat in middle England.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Epilogue

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  Prologue

  Friday Night

  The sound of water dripping on stone echoed through his head, unremitting, finally dragging Callum Hilton from his semi-conscious state. He opened his eyes to total darkness, strained to see the faintest chink of light but there was nothing. Logic told him he was in the old boathouse. He had to be, it was the only building around and she couldn’t have dragged him any distance.

  He’d been fishing from the jetty just in front of it when he’d heard a voice, turned and seen her behind him. Without a word she hit him across the side of the head and felled him with a single blow. He couldn’t understand why she’d do something like that. He’d thought they were friends.

  He called out into the darkness, “Anyone there?” But there was no answer. It was late and all the fishermen would have left. Of the three fishing lakes on the Still Waters country retreat, Ash was furthest from the lodges. No one ventured up here after sunset. Even if he could get free there would be no one around to help him, he was on his own.

  Callum Hilton closed his eyes and rested his head against the stone wall. He was soaking wet from the leaking roof above him and could barely feel his arms and legs, which were bound together with tape and numb with cold.

  He couldn’t make sense of what had happened. The images in his head were confused. He recalled watching the night gather around Needle Crag and waving to the other fishermen packing up. He’d been about to call it a day himself, make his way back to his parents’ lodge before it got too late. But he’d lagged behind, wanting one more go at that elusive carp, which had been playing cat and mouse with him all day.

  His mother had arranged a get-together for the neighbours, and had specifically asked him to be back on time. Would she even notice his absence? By now it would be in full swing and everyone would be too drunk to bother about him. So no one would miss him and he couldn’t expect anyone to come looking.

  The woman’s voice came out of the blackness. “Sorry, Callum, nothing personal, but on reflection I’m glad it’s you.”

  Her words made no sense. She liked him, she’d asked him out for a drink a couple of times. They got on. “Let me go, please, I’m not a threat.”

  “Agreed, you’re no threat to anyone, Callum. You’re a thoroughly nice lad and that’s what makes you perfect for what I have in mind.”

  “My mum’s got folk round, I should be there. They’ll come looking,” he said.

  She laughed. “Sure about that, are you? If there’s one thing I know about the residents of Still Waters, a drinking session wins hands down every time.”

  Her soft fingers stroked his cheek. “You don’t really want to go to a boring party with a load of drunken pensioners, do you?”

  “Please, I won’t say anything.”

  “You don’t like it here at the retreat much, do you, Callum?”

  That wasn’t strictly true, he liked the fishing. But most of the people who bought lodges at Still Waters were retired, had time to spare. They appreciated the beauty of this country retreat in the Pennine foothills and made full use of the fishing, the golf, the walking. He’d have liked it more if there were others his own age here but the few he’d met worked on the site and had little time off.

  He felt a sharp kick to the guts and howled with pain. “What did you do that for?”

  “I like an answer when I ask a question,” she said, kicking him again.

  “Okay, it’s too quiet and the people here aren’t my sort. That do you?”

  She laughed. “My thoughts exactly. Brain dead most of them, particularly your mother.”

  “My mother’s okay.”

  “She’s an interesting watch, I’ll give her that. Were you aware that she’s making a play for Neil Lewis? They’re always walking about together and whispering. Wonder if his wife Gemma knows.”

  Callum felt her warm breath on his face. “Shall I tell her, Callum? Cause a right stink that would. Gemma is a right jealous cow — who knows what she’d do?”

  He didn’t like her criticism of his mother. It was unfair, all she was guilty of was having a good time. “I can’t feel my legs.”

  “That’ll be the cold. You’re sitting on a wet floor and rain is pouring through the roof.”

  “I’ll get pneumonia.”

  “No, you won’t, Callum. You won’t live that long.”

  He felt sick. The kicking, the confusion from the bang on the head, were taking their toll.

  “There’s a wind getting up but at least the rain’s stopped,” she said conversationally. “Hear that squawk? It’s one of the ravens heading to the trees to roost with the others before he gets caught out.”

  The moon had risen and was bright enough now to illuminate parts of the boathouse through the gaps in the rotting main doors. The woman stood over him, he could just make out her shape.

  “Don’t worry, you won’t suffer, Callum. I’ll make it quick. And don’t think I’m not grateful. I am. You don’t know it but you’re an important part of my plan. To use the fishing vernacular, you’re my sprat — you know, like in the saying, a sprat to catch a mackerel.”

  “I can’t stay here all night, I’ll freeze.”

  “You’re right. Even I’m not that heartless.”

  He was too woozy to realise what she meant by this. “You’re releasing me then?”

  “No, Callum, I’m putting you out of your misery.”

  Chapter One

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  Saturday

  The lashing rain and high winds of last night’s storm had given way to still air and brilliant sunshine. Clare Hilton stood on the veranda of her lodge at Still Waters, a country retreat in the hills above Glossop, with a mug of tea in her hand, admiring the view. She turned to her friend and neighbour, Liz Webb, who was busy checking her mobile. “That was a damn good night. D’you rea
lise, we got through a dozen bottles of prosecco and two bottles of gin and that was just us girls.” Clare laughed.

  “Shame you upset Gemma though,” said Liz. “Went off early in a right strop, she did. Did you hear the names she called you?”

  Clare pulled a face. “Gemma can’t take a joke, that’s her problem.”

  “What was she supposed to do?” Liz said. “I mean, you did come on a bit strong. You were all over her husband. You and Neil spent most of the night curled round each other on your sofa.”

  “I like Neil, he’s good company. He’s the best looking bloke here and he’s got plenty of money to spend.”

  Liz grinned. “You’ve got no shame, Clare Hilton.”

  Clare laughed. “She’s too young for him anyway. I’m more his age, we understand each other. What’s Gemma, forty at the most? Neil is drawing his pension.”

  “That’s not the point. He’s her husband, not yours.”

  “More’s the pity.”

  “No signal again.” Liz tossed her phone onto the table. “What about Wi-Fi?”

  “There’s that hotspot on the other side of the site,” Clare said. “Better still, why not give it a rest? That’s what we’re here for, to get away from all that.”

  “I know, but work will still email me and I don’t want to be out of the loop.”

  “What loop?” Clare scoffed. “You overestimate your importance. You’re only there part-time, so the place isn’t likely to go to rack and ruin because you take a week off. Anyway, you were supposed to retire last year. I don’t know what you’re still doing there.”

  “Damien relies on me,” Liz said. “That new girl he’s got in doesn’t know the ropes yet.”

  “Given how young and pretty she is, I doubt Damien gives a toss. I don’t know about you, but I intend to have some fun this week. Gemma’s off home tomorrow and Neil’s already said he’s up for a few trips out. He’s got a mate arriving to stay with him any day. Our pair,” she said, referring to their husbands, “will spend all their time either fishing or playing golf. What sort of break is that for us?”

  “We have any sort of day out with Neil and his mate, Gemma will be on the warpath next weekend. It won’t stay a secret — you know what this place is like. After last night she’s got you on her radar. Take my advice, leave the man alone.”

  Clare laughed. “I’m not afraid of her. She makes it obvious the retreat isn’t her thing.”

  “Give her time.”

  “If she wants to fit in she needs to lighten up,” Clare said firmly.

  “Gemma’s got a vicious temper. Minty told me she has a brother who’s done time.”

  Gemma’s brother a jailbird, that was interesting. Minty was the manager at Still Waters and a seasoned gossip. “What exactly did she tell you?” Clare asked.

  “That this has happened before, there’ve been other women chasing after Neil. She sorted the last one by keying her new car and having her son beaten up. The lad spent a week in hospital and it cost a fortune for the car to get a respray. A few choice words in the woman’s ear and she didn’t go near Neil again.”

  Clare shrugged. “So Gemma’s a nutter. I’ll bear it in mind. Pity.”

  “Dave didn’t look happy with your behaviour either. He’s not daft, you know. He’ll be keeping an eye on the pair of you.”

  “Might wake the bugger up. He’s become a right bore these last years, no fun at all.”

  “He’s not that bad,” Liz said. “Come on, you love him really.”

  The women fell silent, Dave had joined them — a balding man in his late sixties who could do with losing a few pounds. “Either of you seen our Cal? His bed’s not been slept in. Today’s match day and it’s nearly time to draw the pegs.”

  The same old ritual. The fishermen would meet by Oak Lake and draw lots to see who would fish where. There were favourite spots around the water — pegs as they were called — where a good catch was practically guaranteed.

  Clare shook her head. “See what I mean? The match is everything. That means another day given over to fishing. Cal will have bunked down with one of his mates. Liam Purvis, the odd job man around here, is my best bet. They’ll have drunk themselves stupid and talked fishing until the small hours.”

  Satisfied with the explanation, Dave nodded, yawned, and went back inside. “Bloody hard work this relaxing.”

  “There’s plenty wants doing,” Clare called after him. “After the match the grass wants cutting and the spare bedroom needs sorting. It’s full of your junk.” Dave swore in response.

  Liz grinned. “You are hard on him at times, you know.”

  “Don’t start feeling sorry for him,” Clare said. “I was, and look where it got me. Holidays are out because we’ve got this place. As far as Dave’s concerned, we come here or go nowhere.”

  “You could have said no,” Liz said.

  “I was too soft. I gave in to that stupid smile of his, didn’t I? That’s me all over.”

  “Yes, but you like coming here too.”

  “When the weather’s good. The problem is it’s nothing but fishing and golf. That doesn’t suit me.”

  Clare caught sight of Liam strolling past the lodge and waved him over.

  “What happened to your Cal last night?” he said. “He was coming back to yours for an hour then meeting me later on in the pub.”

  Clare leaned over the veranda to speak to him. “We’ve not seen him. We thought he’d stayed over with you?”

  “No. I waited in the pub but he didn’t turn up. I gave him a ring but no joy.”

  “Dave!” she shouted at her husband. “Cal’s not at Liam’s. Never was.”

  Dave came out onto the veranda bare-chested, a towel draped round his neck. “Is he with some girl?”

  “Nope, he’s got someone back home,” Liam said.

  “So where is he?” Clare asked.

  Dave didn’t seem concerned. “He’s a grown man, he can take care of himself.”

  But Clare was worried. Her fingers shook slightly as she tapped on his number in her contacts. “No bloody signal as usual.” She turned to Dave. “Cal doesn’t do missing. Liam hasn’t seen him, he hasn’t phoned and no way would he dodge the match. Come on, Dave, move your arse and get him found.”

  Chapter Two

  Callum Hilton had been a good-looking boy, tall, fair and well built. She ran her fingers gently down his naked chest. Pity she’d had to spoil him. She had a soft spot for men with blond hair, especially this one. He was nice, always spoke to her politely, flirted a little too. She recalled the time she’d given him a lift back from the bus stop. They’d gone out for a drink and ended up going back to hers for the night.

  Shame it had to end like this, but he was the best choice. She’d kept her ears open, and found that despite coming across as such a nice, clean- living boy, Callum had enemies. He had a gambling problem and owed money. The police would have plenty to unravel before they got anywhere with this one. Then there was that toxic family of his. They’d panic, particularly the mother — a spectacle she’d enjoy watching.

  She’d brought him to Ash Lake because it was usually deserted. The boathouse was only there because they occasionally had to row out to check over the aerators in each of the lakes. A moorhen had made her nest on top of the one on Ash Lake, and until her brood fledged, no work would be done there. Oak and Birch were some distance away, and dragging the boat over to them was a chore.

  She laid the naked Callum out on the cold flagstones and placed two black bags of the type used to hold builders’ rubble beside him. Callum was to be divided up and put inside them. She didn’t want all of his body being found at the same time, which meant taking him apart limb from limb like a beast being butchered. Messy, but there was no other way. His arms, minus hands, lower torso and legs would go in one bag, the one to be ditched in the lake and found first. All body parts that could identify him, including his upper torso which had a distinctive tattoo across the chest, would go in the other. She’d hang onto this second bag until she was ready. Eventually it would go in one of the skips around the retreat and make its way to landfill.

  She went about the gruesome work of cutting him up calmly and methodically, completely unperturbed. She’d done it before, it was part of the ritual. Besides, it was the most enjoyable part of the kill.