A Body in the Lakes by Graham Smith (great books of all time .TXT) 📕

To Beth the outfit was overkill for the job she had. Claire’s clothing was chosen for a reason other than practicality. Both George and Pete had worn wedding rings; therefore unless she was trying to seduce one of them, she must be meeting someone else straight after work.

Even so, the length of her skirt and the amount of cleavage she was showing was more suitable to a night on the town than eight hours in a former barn.

Whatever the reason, Beth wished that Claire hadn’t been the last person she spoke to. If one of the others had followed her, she’d have been able to ask if this was how she usually turned up for work.

Regardless of what she thought of the woman and her choice of workwear, Beth had questions she needed answered.

‘How did you get on with Derek on a personal level? You’ve said he was generous and good to work for, but did you get on with him?’

‘You’ve met him right? You know what it feels like to have him turn on the charm for your benefit. He’s suave, charismatic and handsome as hell. I got on with him as well as I’ve got on with anyone in the workplace. He was my boss and that’s how it was between us. Him the employer, me the employee. We’d chat about shit that didn’t matter and then go our separate ways.’

Beth couldn’t help but notice the wistfulness that crept into Claire’s tone when she mentioned Forster’s looks. ‘Sounds like he was decent enough to you.’

‘Oh he was. To a point. He held the power and while he never abused it or even mentioned it, he’d just assert his authority with a quiet word or a look.’

‘Really? I’ve never seen that side of him.’

‘You won’t have. He’ll see a pretty young thing like you as a potential conquest; me, I was paid to do a job.’ Claire looked at her watch. ‘And on that note, the new owners aren’t as forgiving as Derek was in terms of missed deadlines; I’m afraid I need to get back to my desk soon.’

Beth put a few quick questions to Claire, but it was clear the older woman thought she’d crossed a line and had clammed up in case she said anything that might cause trouble for Forster.

As Beth laid her jacket on the passenger seat of her car, her entire focus was on what Claire had told her. She was sure the programmer had intimated something and then drawn back from it on purpose. She’d been given a riddle that she had to solve.

Thirty-Two 7 June

Dear Diary

Derek has only gone and been elected as mayor of Carlisle!!!

He was on his best form and insisted we join him for a celebratory dinner. I’ve told you how charming he is as a person, well tonight he just oozed charisma, and if I’m honest with you, more than a little sex appeal.

Don’t worry, Diary. Derek pays my wages and there will never be anything between us.

I’m nobody in comparison.

A girl can dream though.

Until tomorrow.

Thirty-Three

The Wall Park Hotel was an old building. Its sandstone walls shone bright in the noon sunshine and its tree-filled garden gave it the air of a country house hotel despite it being in the centre of Workington.

When Beth entered the reception there was a huge wooden desk behind which a young woman sat. She wore the kind of uniform that was standard to hotels the world over and her greeting was warm and friendly.

Beth explained who she was and why she was there.

The girl’s smile never slipped as she invited Beth to have a seat while she located the hotel owner.

As she waited, Beth took a quick look around the reception. A set of carpeted stairs led to what she assumed would be the guest rooms and off to one side a bar-cum-restaurant housed a dozen tables. Only two of the tables were empty, the rest were surrounded by what her mother described as ‘ladies who lunch’ or businessmen tapping away at laptops. In the far corner a fat bald man in jeans was reading a battered paperback with an intense concentration.

It was the scene she’d expected to see. Wall Park Hotel wasn’t the kind of place that welcomed those of a working-class disposition. It was aimed at the higher end of the market and this was reflected in the prices she’d seen when looking at the hotel’s website.

The receptionist returned with the owner: a tall man with a stoop and thinning hair.

‘Good day, Detective. My name is Ketteringham.’ The man’s accent was local to Workington, but refined, as if he’d sanded its rougher edges to better impress his guests. ‘If you’d be so kind as to follow me, I think my office is the best place for us to talk.’

While the man was cordial, Beth couldn’t help but pick up on his snooty condescension. The fact he’d introduced himself by surname only spoke of an inbuilt snobbery that was decades out of date. There was no welcoming handshake and he’d taken control of the situation in the way he had requested she come to his office.

As she followed him she had to bite down on her temper. Tempting as it was to play hardball with him, he could easily clam up and refuse to give her the information she needed from him. It’d be easy enough for her to get a warrant, but that would take time and she knew that the case was being closely monitored by not just the brass, but also the PSD. Therefore any errors of judgement she made would have greater repercussions than usual.

His stoop made him look as if he was scouring the ground for lost change, and as spic and span as he might be, the image that stuck with Beth was that of a drunk person bumbling their way home.

Ketteringham took a seat in the leather chair behind his desk and waved a hand towards a