Helen Phifer - The Lake House

She showered, dressed and made breakfast, leaving a plate of bacon, eggs, mushrooms and tomatoes in the microwave for Will, and then she set off for work. It was her last shift and then her long weekend off. After yesterday she was ready for it. There would be mountains of house-to-house and CCTV inquiries to do today because of the head yesterday. She hoped to God that someone had found the body and that it and the head had been reunited. Otherwise their tasks would also include searching every boat, boathouse, shed and garden to see if the body could be located. She drove to the car ferry, which would take her across the lake in a fraction of the time it would take her to drive around. There were only four cars in front of her so she might even be able to pop into the café for a skinny latte to take to the station with her. Gustav, the manager, still had a bit of a thing for her even though she had shown him her wedding ring, much to her inspector’s amusement. He would sense Annie walk through the door and within minutes he would be passing her a hot drink and begging her for a date. Will didn’t find it quite so amusing as Cathy did, but he knew Annie wasn’t about to go running off with an Italian barista because he gave her free coffee.

She parked her brand-new Mercedes outside the café and stuck the hazard lights on. The car had been a wedding present from Will to replace the beloved Mini Cooper she had managed to write off. She had been gutted when she’d woken from her coma in the hospital to find out she’d completely wrecked it. Will had offered to replace the Mini with an identical one, but somehow, as much as Annie loved it, she couldn’t face driving one again – at least not for a while. It would always remind her of Betsy Baker and the crash that could have killed her. There. She could say the woman’s name now that she was outside her house. She just wouldn’t have it spoken inside. Before she’d even got inside the café Gustav was walking towards her with a large takeaway coffee in his hand.

‘So, my lovely police lady, what’s been happening down by the pier? Is it true you found a severed head?’

He made a swiping motion across his throat with his hand. ‘This is bad news, very bad news. I want you to take care, Annie. I have a bad feeling about this. In my country severed heads mean you have pissed off someone in the Family.’ He leant closer and whispered, ‘You know who the Family are? The Mafia. Or it means there is a crazy person running around. Either way you should not get involved. Why don’t you come and work for me? I will train you to make the best coffee in town and you can work with me all day and drink as much coffee as you like.’

Annie laughed. ‘I know who the Family are and somehow I don’t think they have any reason to be leaving heads under boathouses around here, but thank you for your concern. You are such a sweetie. And thank you for the job offer. You know I may take you up on that one day when catching criminals becomes too much.’

He bent towards her and kissed her cheek. ‘That would make my life complete. I hope Mr Annie realises how lucky he is.’

He winked at her and went back to work, and although she was touched Annie wondered exactly how much Gustav knew about her life and why he would be worried about her.

Annie didn’t take any notice of the new girl who was working on the till and listening to every word of their exchange. There were new staff in the shop on a weekly basis. The only constant was Gustav, but the girl on the till never took her eyes off Annie because she knew exactly who she was. She had just never actually seen her in person.

Megan Tyler hated this job. She was a fully trained psychiatric nurse. She hadn’t spent three years of her life writing the most boring essays to end up making coffee, but then she had to remind herself that it had been her choice. She had thrown away a perfectly good career because she had become infatuated with one of England’s worst serial killers. Henry Smith had almost died at the hands of Annie Graham when it should have been the other way around. When the story had broken and the headlines on all the tabloids screamed about what a monster he was, Megan had found that she admired him a little. Then he’d been sent to the ward that she worked on. When he was well enough after a long time in intensive care, she had got to know the well-spoken, gentle, polite older man. She had become infatuated with him. She had read every article and a book about his crimes but was unable to connect the man she was reading about with the man she took breakfast to and chatted about the weather with every morning.

Megan had lost her own father when she was nine years old. He had been killed in a hit-and-run accident. In the early days she had asked herself if she wasn’t looking to Henry to become a father figure to her, but the more she got to know him the more she realised it wasn’t a father she needed. She had become deeply attached to him and had developed just as much of a secret crush on him as he had on this bloody Annie Graham. It had been Megan’s choice to help him escape and she realised that she’d thrown her whole life away to be with him, but she admired him and wanted to be just like him so it would all be worth it in the end.

They needed the money working in the coffee shop brought in – plus it was a perfect excuse for her to get to know Henry’s little crush, who was a regular customer. Megan couldn’t help but wonder why so many men were besotted with this Annie Graham. She supposed she was pretty and she did have lovely, thick, black curls, but she wasn’t dead skinny and drop-dead gorgeous. She was just normal. It must be her personality, or then again it could be the shiny black sports car that was parked outside on the double yellow lines with the hazard lights flashing – Megan hadn’t told Henry about the car yet. Whatever it was, Megan would like to get to know her better before they killed her.

***

Ninety-year-old Miss Martha Beckett had noticed the bad smell that was lingering in the downstairs corridor three days ago. Ignoring it at first she had then asked her cleaner to clear out all the kitchen cupboards and bleach the fridge in case something had gone off, but today the smell was still there and her cleaner was now on her days off. She had to do something about it. In fact it was even worse than yesterday. The horror she had felt at the realisation of where it was coming from had made her knees go weak and her heart race. It was emanating from…the cellar.

She hated it down in the huge, stark cavern that smelt of damp. It would for ever remind her of her nine-year-old brother, Joseph, who had gone down there during a game of hide-and-seek a long, long time ago and never been seen since. She forced herself to shuffle down to the big, oak door, which had been sealed shut since the day after Joseph’s disappearance. She tried to count back the years; it had been 1930 the last time anyone had any call to go down there – too damn long.

She felt her heart beat faster as she approached it, always with the same feeling of dread in the base of her spine, but she couldn’t live in a house that smelt this bad. The drains must be blocked. She reached the door and sniffed, then gagged. The smell was much stronger here. In fact it was dreadful. She moved away from the door, too afraid to even consider opening it to go down and investigate. No, she would call in a professional plumber and warn him not to go down there on his own. After Joe had gone her father had made it a rule that no one went down there alone. They must always be in a pair or group.

She went back into the kitchen and opened the drawer where kept a tatty copy of the Yellow Pages. It was four years old and she wondered if any of the plumbers were still in business, but she had to try something. She didn’t own a computer or a mobile phone. She hated technology. Her television was ancient and she rarely watched it, instead preferring to spend her time upstairs in her bedroom, which was at the opposite end of the house to the cellar. She would listen to her records and read her books, but most of the time was spent looking out of her window at the lake, watching the boats and wondering if Joseph would ever come home.