The Dungeon House (Lake District Mysteries) by Martin Edwards Page A

HR. To everyone’s surprise, he hadn’t even committed career suicide by saying something utterly inappropriate when Hannah and her team were summoned to a photo opportunity with the Police and Crime Commissioner.
    ‘You’d be amazed how much fitter I feel since I went on the veggie detox.’ Her aim was to show solidarity with her friend and colleague Fern Larter, after Fern was placed on a strict diet following a diagnosis of hypertension. The sight of a juicy steak still provoked feelings of lust, but she had no intention of confessing to Les. ‘Seriously, you ought to try it.’
    ‘I’d sooner stick pins in my eyes. To be fair, you’re not looking terrible on it.’ Les gave her slim figure the sort of appraising gaze nobody else would dare. ‘Take it from me, the feel-good factor is nothing to do with the crap you’re eating. It’s Daniel Kind who’s put a smile on your face. How is he, these days?’
    Hannah glared, while Maggie tried to suppress a grin. ‘Fine, thanks. Now, what about this breaking news? I’m all ears.’
    Typically, Les strung out the tension, gnawing at his bap, and wondering out loud why no slick marketing man had rebranded long sausages rolled into circular coils. Why not call them Cumbria sausages? The historic county of Cumberland had vanished forty years back, when all was said and done.
    ‘The name’s a reminder of the good old Cumberland pig.’ Maggie’s family had farmed for generations. ‘The boars died out in the Fifties. My granddad owned one of the last in the county. So sad the breed disappeared.’
    ‘Tragic.’ Les finished his hot dog, and burped shamelessly. ‘All right, then. Another teenage girl has gone missing. She set off from her home, just outside Ravenglass, on Saturday morning, and nobody’s seen her since. Name of Shona Whiteley.’
    Maggie leant forward. ‘You’re not suggesting there’s a link with the Lily Elstone case?’
    ‘Who knows?’ Les sucked in his cheeks. ‘Admittedly, the circumstances aren’t one hundred per cent identical. Young Lily was knocked off her bike, wasn’t she? Shona said she was catching the bus on Saturday morning, forty-eight hours ago. She was supposed to be spending the night at a sleepover with a friend in Eskdale Green, and the alarm wasn’t raised until yesterday evening when she was due back. But the girls are much the same age. Lily was fourteen, Shona’s fifteen, and the places they were last seen are only a few miles apart in west Cumbria.’
    ‘Is that all?’ Maggie had never mastered the art of hiding disappointment. She was desperate to come up with something fresh, but it was hardly unknown for teenagers to go missing. Even in the Western Lakes, it had happened several times since Lily vanished without trace. Each time the kid had turned up safe and sound. Usually the explanation was a row with the parents.
    ‘He’s just ratcheting up the suspense,’ Hannah told her. ‘Our Mr Bryant is more of an old ham than any of your granddad’s Cumberland pigs. Come on, Les, spit it out.And I don’t mean that bloody sausage. Did the two girls come from the same village, or attend the same school?’
    ‘Not as far as I know. But there is a link between their fathers.’
    Maggie’s eyes widened. ‘You’re talking about the accountant, Gray Elstone?’
    ‘And Shona’s dad, yes. Name of Nigel Whiteley. Ring a bell, Hannah?’
    ‘Uh-huh.’ He peered at her across the little table, smug as a quizmaster when an answer teases the tip of a contestant’s tongue. ‘Whiteley, Whiteley …’
    ‘You’ll kick yourself when I tell you.’
    ‘Was he …?’
    ‘The Dungeon House killer?’ Les’ bleak smile resembled a ‘before’ picture in a commercial for cosmetic dentistry. ‘You’re getting warm.’
    ‘But his name wasn’t …’
    ‘Nigel? No, you’re right. The man responsible for the murders at the Dungeon House was Malcolm Whiteley. He was the uncle of this Nigel Whiteley.’
    ‘Ah.’ Hannah