The Whitby Murders (A Yorkshire Murder Mystery) - J. Ellis (ebook reader with internet browser TXT) 📗

if a little dusty and untidy in places. There was a high-ceilinged corridor with a polished parquet floor. The walls were lined with sketches and paintings, including some by the local nineteenth-century artist Atkinson Grimshaw. The large living room had chintzy sofas, a thick-pile carpet and ornamental mirrors over an elaborate fireplace. There were more pictures on the walls. There was also an uncanny silence everywhere, which unsettled Louise. She kept expecting Andrea to walk into the room at any moment.

‘Was your friend’s aunt an artist or a collector?’ asked Oldroyd as they gazed at the opulent surroundings. ‘It’s a very impressive display.’

‘She did some of her own work. That’s one of hers over the fireplace.’ Louise pointed to a dales landscape in watercolour. ‘She wasn’t an expert or anything, according to Andrea. She never studied art; she was a civil servant in the tax office, I think. She acquired everything gradually throughout her life; just bought what took her fancy. She lived here for over forty years and then she passed it all on to Andrea. I don’t think Andrea knew what to do with it. She didn’t know much about fine art either, but she liked the flat. It had a lot of memories for her. I think she felt bad about changing anything, although the decorations and the furniture are not her style. She said she felt her aunt wouldn’t like it.’

‘I see. Well, let’s have a good look round, though I don’t know what we’re looking for. Are you okay to do this?’

‘Yes. With Steph’s help.’ She smiled at the detective sergeant.

‘Okay, Let’s get going then.’ They all put on plastic gloves. Oldroyd and Steph began a painstaking examination of each room while Louise watched and answered questions. In the living room she noticed a framed photograph of Andrea and Dominic; they were laughing and seemed to be having a great time at some party or other. It caused grief to well up inside Louise again. How could everything have changed so quickly and so dramatically?

Unfortunately, the flat, like the bedroom in the Airbnb, yielded little of interest. There was nothing in Andrea’s possessions or in any letter or document that gave any hint of what had been going to happen in Whitby. There was some more jewellery made with Whitby jet: a pair of earrings and a gothic-looking piece with a black spider on a silvery web.

‘She certainly liked this Whitby jet stuff, didn’t she?’ asked Steph.

‘Yes. I think the blackness of the gemstone appealed to her. She’d been a bit of a goth when she was a teenager, and I guess she never quite grew out of the love of black.’

‘I see. Did she go to Whitby quite a bit then?’

‘I think she might have. She once mentioned an uncle who lives there but you don’t need to travel to places to buy local stuff anymore, do you?’

‘True.’

Having searched everything as thoroughly as he could, Oldroyd glanced around the flat in frustration. It seemed as if the visit was fruitless. Then, as they were about to leave and he walked into the hallway, he finally noticed something and stopped.

‘It looks as if there was something hanging there until quite recently,’ he said, pointing to a gap at the end of a row of pictures. He examined the walls. ‘There’re still some remnants of the dust that would have collected behind it. You said she was reluctant to change things in here. Did she ever say anything about taking a picture down? Or maybe even selling one?’

‘No, she didn’t. I can’t see why she would do that; her aunt’s legacy was very important to her.’

Oldroyd looked again at the space. He could see no obvious significance in the absence of whatever it was that had hung there. But, like any little detail which had no immediate explanation, it made him think.

Oldroyd dropped Steph off in the centre of Leeds near the flat she shared with Andy overlooking the river. Then he drove out to Chapel Allerton to take Louise to her mother’s house. As they drew up outside the house in the terraced row, Julia, seeing the car, came quickly out of the door and embraced Louise as soon as she got out of the car.

‘Oh, come here! How are you?’ she said anxiously.

‘I’m okay, Mum. I’m coping. Don’t worry.’

‘But it’s such a terrible thing to happen. Poor Andrea; I remember her well. She used to come here quite a bit when you were at the sixth-form college, didn’t she? Dark-haired girl. Oh, I just hate to think about it! What about her poor parents?’ Julia was starting to cry herself. ‘Come on inside and I’ll make a cup of tea.’ She put her arm round Louise’s shoulders and then seemed to notice Oldroyd for the first time. ‘Oh, Jim! Hello. Won’t you come in, too?’

Reluctantly, Oldroyd followed them through the door and down the narrow hallway to the dining area at the back of the house. A one-storey kitchen extension led from this out across the yard to the back alleyway. Julia had lived alone here since the family house had been sold when she and Oldroyd had split up. It was immaculate and very artfully decorated and furnished. She had made a big effort to make it into her space.

Oldroyd sat down on a bouncy bentwood chair from IKEA. It would be better if he stayed out of things as much as possible. He was never sure whether Julia’s attitude towards him would be friendly or hostile. Louise and her mother sat at the table.

‘I can’t imagine what you’ve been through,’ Julia went on as she brought the mugs of tea over.

She seems more upset than Louise at the moment, thought Oldroyd, as he wondered what effect staying here would have on his daughter. He hoped her mother’s presence would be helpful and would not amplify Louise’s feelings. ‘You must stay here for a while until you feel better.’

‘Well,