Free Dead of Winter Tr by Lee Weeks Page A

refurbishment.’
    ‘I no longer have them – I’m sorry. As I said, I can’t keep everything.’
    ‘Can I see Chichester’s original emails to you?’
    ‘Again I’m sorry. It’s eighteen months since I first received them from him. They are no longer on my computer.’
    ‘You seem really sure about that. What about in your Sent Items or Trash folder? Do you need me to wait whilst you check?’
    ‘I can assure you there’s no need to check. They are definitely not on my computer.’
    ‘Do you remember anything about the way he worded them that might help us find out what kind of a person he was? What about his spelling?’
    ‘Good.’
    ‘What about the way he wrote things, could he have been foreign?’
    ‘I have no idea.’
    Ebony looked at the photos again. ‘Did you oversee these works yourself? Did you have this lino floor laid?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Did you make a private financial arrangement with him?’
    His face reddened some more. ‘I had a lot of extra work.’
    ‘Is that normal practice to make a private financial arrangement with clients without informing the owner of the house?’
    ‘I wouldn’t say it was an arrangement. There were costs incurred. The family are more than happy with the rent they received from Mr Chichester. I don’t see why I should have
to answer any more of your questions.’
    ‘I suppose the thing is, Mr Simpson, at the moment you are the nearest thing we have to a friend of Mr Chichester. You got the house ready for him and a woman and her baby were murdered
there. You don’t seem overly eager to help me with this. It’s an offence to withhold information and this is a murder investigation. We can talk here or I can take you in with me now
and you can make a formal statement. I can also ask for these premises to be closed down while we conduct a search for the missing invoices. It’s up to you.’
    He paled. ‘Of course. I will be happy to answer any questions.’
    ‘Let’s take another look at these photos and you can run through each one with me and tell me what he said he wanted to keep and what he didn’t.’
    Ebony stopped off to see Harding afterwards. She looked up as Ebony came in; she was studying the diagrams from the original crime scene at Rose Cottage. She closed the file,
opened a drawer, and pulled out three autopsy reports from the victims at Rose Cottage before handing them over to Ebony.
    ‘On no account share this information with anyone. I trust you to be discreet. Now is not the time to make things worse. We all did the best we could; that includes me.’
    Ebony looked at Harding’s face as she handed over the reports and thought she looked almost vulnerable: brittle under the hard shell. But Ebony knew very well that Harding had got to where
she was in life by destroying marriages and people and if she was attempting to show Ebony her vulnerable side there was probably a plan.
    ‘Of course, Doctor.’
    ‘Are you going to see Carmichael tomorrow?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Come and see me when you get back.’ Harding turned back to studying the file on her desk.
    Ebony headed home on the number seventy-three. Four stops from home she managed to get a seat. She looked out of the window and watched the snow coming down. When it had first
hit it was fun – now it was a pain in the arse. The bus smelt like a wet dog basket. Outside, Christmas lights fought hard to colour up the sleet and snow.
    She heard her housemate Tina’s heavy metal music as soon as she put the key in the door.
    Tina’s voice came from the kitchen. ‘Ebb?’
    ‘Yeah, it’s me . . .’ Ebony put her coat over the banister, took off her shoes and put them by the front door.
    Tina emerged stuffing toast into her mouth and wearing the maroon dressing gown that her nan had given her for last Christmas. Everyone in the house walked around in duvets and dressing gowns.
It was impossible to keep warm. The house was old and draughty and the radiators were too small and