Page 23 of Her Lips Are Sealed

Remembering the crime scene she’d driven past, she took out her phone and typed ‘Brade Street Coniston’ into the search bar to see what was going on. She felt bad when she read a post someone had written saying a body had been discovered inside a house. There wasn’t much more except a couple of headlines by the police saying they were attending a sudden death in the area of Brade Street. Lisa sighed, it was probably some old person who had no family and lived on their own. She didn’t know anyone who lived in that street, to be honest, apart from Mike, Sally, who lived in the flat across from Mike, and Isaac who worked in the Bluebird Café down by the lake. She didn’t actually socialise with anyone.

Lisa was a bookworm, always had been, she preferred her own company to boozy nights out. Her dream job had been to work in a library, granted The British Library in London or The Public Library in New York were her top choices, but failing that any library would do and she’d started her working life in the beautiful library in her home town of Barrow-in-Furness, situated on Ramsden Square. Then she’d split up with Jake, who also worked there, and the opportunity had come up to work at the tiny Rydal Falls library. She had jumped at the chance, moving to Coniston to be a bit nearer to it.

Rent in Rydal Falls, Ambleside or Windermere was way out of her price range. She was broke, but she knew her neighbours and was as happy as she could be and for that she was always thankful.

Which was the reason that guy who kept hanging around was freaking her out so much… He didn’t fit. Lisa liked everyone and everything to fit. He looked like a loose end, nervous even. Maybe he was a burglar. She thought about her open second floor window, then looked around. She had nothing of value except for her books and iPhone 14 which no self-respecting burglar would want; her laptop was almost as old as she was and the TV was as old as her dad. She didn’t ever use it; she couldn’t stand the wavy blue-and-white lines that filled the top half of the screen covering everyone’s faces. Books didn’t do that, books were always the same, constant entertainment with no fuss.

She sighed and sipped at her tea, maybe she should keep her window closed until she knew what the weird guy was hanging around for. Then she picked up her book and began reading, forgetting about everything she’d just been thinking about as she found herself back in the 1850s and living in a mansion by the sea.

SIXTEEN

Marc was standing next to Ben arguing with someone on his phone. Morgan curled her finger and beckoned Ben towards her.

‘Did you find a note?’ His voice was shaky.

For a split second Morgan wanted to shield him from the horror, protect him the way he often tried to protect her, but she couldn’t. How could she not tell him what she’d found? The note was their key piece of evidence. She gave a curt nod.

‘Christ, where?’

‘Same place, tucked under her pillow.’

‘What did it say?’

She tugged the glove off her right hand and opened the photo so it filled the screen of her phone.

He bent his head towards it, squinting. Then he straightened up, scrubbed his hand across his cheek and whispered, ‘Now what do we do?’

‘I was kind of hoping you were going to tell me, boss. Do we issue a warning to every single woman who lives alone in a tiny street to be extra vigilant?’

‘We can’t do that, can we?’

‘Why not, it’s not as if we have a clue what we’re dealing with, is it? Wouldn’t it be better to forewarn people to be cautious?’

‘I’ll have to speak to HQ and the press office first, don’t do anything before I do.’

‘I wouldn’t.’

He rolled his eyes at her. ‘We won’t go there right now, Morgan. Can you join in with the H2H? Cain and Amy are door knocking along those two streets. Do you want to take the one with the church on, please?’

She nodded and went to get an evidence bag out of the CSI van to put her protective clothing in. Once she’d stripped out of it she felt her skin breathe with relief. Her black shirt was stuck to her back, and she hadn’t realised how stressed she’d been inside of Ash’s house. Goosebumps broke out on her arms and an icy chill settled across the back of her neck, and she wished she had a thick jumper or one of her trusty Blackcraft hoodies to pull on and keep her warm.

Morgan headed for the gate to the church. It was possibly the smallest church she’d ever seen and realised as she stared at the pretty pots filled with geraniums and pansies that it had been converted into a house. She knocked on the door and it was opened immediately by a teenage girl. Yungblud was singing about ghosts through them, and Morgan smiled; she had great taste in music.

‘What is happening?’ Pushing her headphones around her neck, the girl stared at Morgan intently. ‘I rang my mum to tell her it was all kicking off, and she told me if I went outside she’d ground me for a month, and I’ve got too much stuff to do.’

Morgan was a little taken back by her chattiness. In her experience a lot of teenagers were surly or very shy. There was no way to sugar-coat it, as she only had to watch out of the window when Ash’s body was finally taken away in a body bag to know.

‘There’s been a murder.’

‘No fucking way, here, in this street? Sorry, I didn’t mean to swear.’

She smiled at her. ‘Apology accepted, how old are you?’

The girl put her hands on her hips. ‘Old enough to swear, seventeen, why?’

‘I’m just checking you’re old enough to have this conversation with me if your mum isn’t present. The swearing is not a problem.’

The girl arched an eyebrow at her. ‘Am I old enough?’