by Michael Wood
‘I know, but, how are you doing?’
‘I’m OK. You?’
‘Dying for a latte.’
Further up the road, Matilda registered the sound of applauding from the public on both sides of the road. She looked at them, complete strangers, cheering her on. It made her smile. People had given up their Sunday morning to stand in the cold for several hours to support people they didn’t know. Matilda smiled at an elderly couple as the man poured the woman a cup of tea from a flask. Two young children waved Union Jacks. One child had an annoying vuvuzela, and on his own, just aside from the crowd, was Danny Hanson. He took her photo with his mobile.
What was he doing here?
Matilda spotted him, and their eyes met. She was soon past him but she couldn’t tear herself away from him. She continued running but looked back. She almost collided with a runner, but Adele managed to keep her friend on her feet.
‘You OK?’ Adele panted.
‘Yes. Fine.’
Was he smirking?
***
Ecclesall Road was a very long road on a steady incline. It took the runners right to the edge of the city and onto the famous ‘King of the Hill’ known as Ringinglow Road. Ahead of Matilda and Adele, was Scott with Chris a few paces behind. This was Chris’s first race and although Scott wanted to keep checking up on him, he couldn’t take his eyes off PC Steve Harrison ahead of him. He was way out in front and didn’t seem to have broken a sweat at all. There were a couple of times Scott had tried to catch up with him, but it was as if Steve had sensed Scott approaching and had increased his speed. This seemed like a race between uniform and plain-clothed officers. Scott needed to beat him.
One hour, nineteen minutes, and twelve seconds later, Scott crossed the finishing line. He stopped the watch on his wrist and fell to the floor beside the road. A woman came over to him and gave him a bottle of water, which he took a long drink from and then poured the rest over his head. He leaned back against the railings and looked up to see Steve across the way, smiling at him. If Scott hadn’t been watching him all the way, he wouldn’t have guessed he had run just over thirteen miles. He was fresh. Not a hair out of place and only slightly panting. Scott smiled.
‘How are you feeling?’ Steve asked, coming over and squatting by Scott. He handed him his race finisher’s pack which contained a T-shirt, medal and a few energy treats.
‘I’m OK,’ he panted. ‘You?’
‘I’m good. Beat last year’s time by more than thirty seconds.’
‘Good for you,’ he said between breaths. ‘I didn’t know you ran.’
‘I used to do it competitively, but just for fun now.’
‘You wouldn’t think this was fun, would you?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I love it.’
Steve strolled away, hands on hips. Scott watched him as he headed into the crowd and was greeted by Faith, who threw her arms around him and planted a huge kiss on his lips. He didn’t notice Chris Kean fall at his feet.
‘You all right?’ Scott asked, looking down. Chris was red-faced and breathing heavily, sweat was pouring off him.
‘I think I’ve died.’
Scott laughed. ‘Sit up. Have a drink.’
‘I don’t think I can.’
Scott grabbed Chris and pulled him into his lap. He held his head while he fed him water from a bottle. ‘Take small sips.’
‘Just leave me. Save yourself.’
Two hours, forty-three minutes and nine seconds after leaving the Winter Gardens, Matilda and Adele crossed the finishing line together, arm in arm. They immediately collapsed to the ground in a heap by the side of the road.
‘Are we mad?’ Adele asked.
‘I think so.’
‘Never again.’
‘Agreed.’
‘We’ve done it though.’
‘Have we? Now I know how people feel on the mortuary slab.’
They both laughed, but it was weak and bordering on hysterical.
Matilda opened her eyes to see Sian, Rory, Scott and Chris standing over her. Their faces were blank as they looked down on a worn-out wreck of a human.
‘Congratulations,’ Sian said. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
Sitting at the side of the road, Steve handed Matilda and Adele their finisher’s packs.
‘There’d better be some alcohol in here,’ Adele said as she tore into it.
Matilda pulled open the drawstring bag, put her hand in and pulled out a hangman’s noose. She held it aloft. Everyone turned to look at her, yet nobody knew what to say.
Chapter Forty-Five
‘Are you sure about this?’
‘Perfectly.’
‘But the doctor signed you off for a couple of weeks. And he said if you still didn’t feel up to it, you could have a sick note for a bit longer.’
Adele was perched on the end of the double bed in the room Matilda had moved in to. Matilda sat at the table in her best working suit, applying a small amount of eye make-up.
‘I don’t want to take any more time off. I’m fine.’
‘You know, you really should have that tattooed on your forehead.’
‘What?’
‘I’m fine. It’s your reply to everything.’
‘That’s because it’s true.’
‘Really? So you were fine when you found Ben Hales hanging in your hallway?’
‘Well, no, not then, but you didn’t ask.’ She grinned at her through the mirror. ‘Now, however, I’m fine.’
‘Aren’t you still knackered from the half-marathon? I am,’ she said, rubbing her left calf.
‘Nope. I’m fine.’
‘There’s that f-word again.’
‘Adele.’ Matilda turned in the seat to face her best friend. ‘Do you want to know why I’m fine? It’s because of you. If it hadn’t been for you welcoming me into your home and looking after me I would have probably joined Ben Hales on the end of his rope. However, I’m still here. I’m alive, and that’s thanks to you.’
Adele was just about to smile when suspicion took over. ‘Flattery isn’t going to convince me, you know.’
‘Blimey, I can’t say anything, can I?’
‘Matilda, take the rest of the week off, at least.’
‘And do what? No offence but staring at your living room walls all day isn’t exactly stimulating.’
‘Go out.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know. Into town. Shopping at Meadowhall. Go and see your parents.’
Matilda rolled her eyes. ‘You’ve just given me three perfectly good reasons for returning to work.’
‘What about that noose in your runner’s pack?’
‘Probably a sick joke. You know what people are like.’
‘Matilda,’ Adele called out as Matilda passed her friend and headed out of the room. ‘I doubt Valerie will allow you back on the case.’
‘I called her last night and we’re going to have a chat when I get in. I need to see this through, Adele,’ Matilda said as she made her way down the stairs.
‘But what about this business with Ben Hales? Won’t you need to be questioned? That’s not going to do you any good.’
‘You said yourself it was a suicide. There’s not going to be a hearing or anything.’
‘Matilda—’
‘Look, Adele.’ Matilda stopped in the hallway and turned to her worried friend. ‘I have so many questions running around my head and I need to get them answered before I go completely insane. The only way I can do that is by returning to work.’
‘Can’t you do it over the phone? Give Sian a ring, or Christian. They’re more than capable. Ask them what you want, and they’ll look into it for you.’
‘I know you’re thinking of me, but trust me, I’m absolutely fine.’
Matilda could feel Adele studying her, glaring into her eyes trying to find evidence that she was far from fine. Matilda quickly turned away. ‘Besides, Rory texted yesterday telling me Faith and Kesinka went o
n a double date with their boyfriends. I need all the gossip.’ She gave an exaggerated laugh.
‘You hate station gossip.’
Matilda sighed.
‘OK,’ Adele conceded. ‘Personally, I think you should take more time off, but I know it doesn’t matter what I, or anyone else, says. Just, take care, won’t you?’
‘You make it sound like I go running around with guns. I’m not in the Counter Terrorism Unit.’
‘Just promise me you won’t work too hard.’
‘I have no intention of working too hard.’
‘Are you limping?’ Valerie asked as Matilda entered the office.
‘I think I’ve got a blister on my right foot from the half-marathon.’
‘Oh yes. Congratulations,’ she said, though the tone of her voice suggested she didn’t mean it. ‘Scott said you made good time.’
Matilda smiled. ‘He has to say that, doesn’t he?’
‘Did you know you made the newspaper?’ Valerie slapped down a copy on the desk.
The front page had a picture of Matilda running. It wasn’t a flattering picture; her hair was stuck to her red face and sweat was dripping down her forehead. The headline next to it wasn’t flattering either:
‘DARKE RUNS FROM SERIAL KILLER DUTIES.’
‘I expected something like this. Danny Hanson was at the race. He took this picture on his phone.’
‘I’ve called Kate. I told her you were running for charity. I mentioned your husband. She’s going to run an article in this evening’s edition stating that. A quote from you will go a long way to appease the people of Sheffield.’
‘What?’ Matilda’s face went as red as when she was running. ‘You want me to give an interview about my dead husband? No bloody way.’
‘Just a few lines. It won’t take five minutes.’
‘Absolutely not. I’m proud of running the half-marathon. I trained long and hard for it. We all did. I’m not justifying my actions to anyone.’
‘Matilda, public trust in us is at an all-time low at present. If they see you as some kind of charity runner that will help.’
‘No. You can tell Kate anything you want, but I’m not giving an interview. She can piss off. Let her write whatever she likes. We’re not on duty 24/7, you know. We’re entitled to some time off.’
Matilda stood up and left the room before she said something to her boss she would definitely regret.
Before Matilda could be welcomed by everyone in the briefing room, Christian ushered her into her tiny office and closed the door behind them.
‘You look like you’ve aged five years,’ Matilda said with a smile. ‘In-laws still with you?’
‘What? No, they went home last weekend, thank God. It’s about the case. It’s something James Dalziel said while you were away. I was going to call you but decided not to. Unfortunately, my mind has been thinking of nothing else and the thought’s mutated and I just …’
‘Christian, try breathing,’ she said, calming him down.
He took a deep breath and slowly lowered himself into the chair opposite Matilda’s desk. ‘We got talking about Danny Hanson and we wondered if he was the killer. I mean, nobody could understand why a junior reporter was being contacted when there are so many other journalists he could call. Then, James Dalziel said due to how the killer was able to locate Brian Appleby and Katie Reaney that maybe the killer was a police officer, maybe even someone on this team,’ he said quietly.
‘Blimey, he’s certainly hedging his bets, isn’t he?’ Matilda smiled. ‘One minute it’s a journalist, the other it’s a police officer. What do you believe?’
‘I don’t know,’ Christian said, scratching the worry on his forehead. ‘I honestly can’t see it being Danny Hanson, but the alternative is one of us, or worse, both. I’ve been going out of my mind.’
‘You should have called me.’
‘I know. It’s like when you thought one of the team was talking to the press. You didn’t want to believe it, but you couldn’t help it. I was the same. Is one of them, out there, a serial killer?’ he whispered.
‘You know more of the team better than I do. What do you think?’ Matilda asked.
‘I really don’t know. I mean, look at Rory, look at Scott. Can you honestly see one of them killing someone? I certainly can’t.’
‘No. Me neither,’ Matilda mused.
They both fell silent.
‘You know I said my mind has mutated things?’ Christian broke the silence.
‘Yes.’
‘What if the killer isn’t someone on the team. What if the killer is James Dalziel?’
‘What?’
‘He could be saying all this to detract suspicion from himself. We’ve only got him telling us what to look for and we’re taking what he says as gospel.’
‘Jesus, Christian.’ Matilda blew out her cheeks. ‘Maybe you should take some time off.’
‘I know. What are we going to do?’
‘We need to bring someone else on board with this; someone a bit more level-headed.’
At the same time, Matilda and Christian both said, ‘Sian.’
Chapter Forty-Six
Day Thirty-Four
Tuesday, 11 April 2017
The second the clock struck six, the workers of KKE Engineering downed tools and headed for the changing rooms. Overalls were removed, coats and bags collected, and they were out of the door before five past the hour.
There was a reason most of them were in a hurry to leave tonight and that was to celebrate Gordon Berry’s forty-seventh birthday.
‘God, I need a drink,’ Suzanne Marr said. ‘I purposely came on the bus today, so I could have a few drinks tonight. I know it’s a week night but screw it, I’m getting pissed.’
‘As if you need an excuse to drink,’ teased Alicia Richardson, who worked on the same bench as her. ‘Will you be buying the birthday boy a drink?’
‘Of course, it’s only fair.’
‘I bet you’d like to be doing other things to him, as well.’ She smiled.
‘Bugger off, Alicia. He’s in the middle of a divorce and it’s not that long since his mother died. The last thing on his mind is going to be finding someone new.’
‘He’s a bloke, Suze. Undo your top couple of buttons, get a few lagers down him and invite him back to your place.’
‘Alicia, don’t be filthy. I’m in my forties for crying out loud. That kind of behaviour may be acceptable to people like you in your twenties, but when you get older you’re a bit more refined.’
‘Refined? Do I have to remind you of the Christmas party 2015?’
‘Shut up, he’s coming.’
Gordon Berry, tall and slim, with dark hair greying slightly at the temples and a rugged face, trotted across the car park to catch them up. ‘Good evening, ladies. Have you had a good day at work?’
‘Yes, fine thanks, Gordon.’
‘Good. Well, that’s work chatter out of the way. Let’s get to the pub and get seriously slammed.’ He placed both arms around Suzanne’s and Alicia’s shoulders and frog-marched them in the direction of the pub.
By the time Gordon, Suzanne and Alicia were on their second drink, the rest of their friends from KKE had arrived. There were around fifteen of them in total, either at the bar or sitting around three tables pushed together in the Banker’s Draft pub in Sheffield city centre. It was a large, dark pub in urgent need of a revamp. It didn’t give out a welcoming vibe, but the birthday well-wishers were doing their best to lighten the dank atmosphere with their loud talking and exaggerated laughter.
‘Gordon, have you heard from the wife on your birthday?’ Rupert Molone, the line manager asked.
‘You’re joking, surely,’ he scoffed. ‘For the last three years I barely got a word out of her, let alone a birthday card. Anyway, she’s in Malta with her new fella at the moment. Good luck to him, I say.’
‘You’re not bitter then?’
‘No. Best thing that could have happened t
o us was splitting up. We’ll still see each other. I mean, our Tony’s getting married later this year, but we just drifted apart.’
‘You’re on the prowl again, then?’ Rupert smiled, nodding in Suzanne’s direction who was playing on the quiz machine with Alicia.
‘If the right woman came along, I wouldn’t turn her down.’
‘Who’s the right woman for you then, Gordon?’ Alicia shouted out without turning away from the screen.
‘Well it would have been you, Alicia, if that Ryan of yours hadn’t put a ring on your finger.’
‘Rings can come off, Gordon,’ she said as she slowly began to ease the engagement ring up her finger. It was almost off, before she pushed it back down. ‘On second thoughts, my Ryan’s ripped and has a bum you could sink your teeth into.’
‘The only thing that’s ripped about Gordon are his kecks.’ Rupert laughed.
‘Why don’t you ask our Suzanne out?’ Alicia said.
‘Alicia!’ Suzanne hissed.
‘What? I want everyone to be happy.’
‘If Suzanne was up for it, I’d be happy to take her out for a meal one night.’
The group quietened while they waited for Suzanne’s reaction. Her back was to the majority of them, still facing the quiz machine. Alicia nudged her and eventually she turned around. She was red with embarrassment and a sweet smile spread across her face.
‘Well, if you asked, I wouldn’t say no.’
‘You fancy it then? This Friday?’ Gordon asked.
‘All right,’ she replied, coyly.
Gordon was on cloud nine as he walked home. It was close to midnight when he left the pub and headed for Attercliffe. It took him longer than usual because he was staggering and zig-zagging from one side of the road to the other. He didn’t care how long it took him though. Today was his birthday (well, for the next six minutes), and on Friday night he was going out for a meal with Suzanne Marr.
The house was cold when he opened the front door. He slammed the door behind him and placed his hand on the radiator. He made a mental note to have a word with one of the engineers at work tomorrow. He emptied his pockets and placed the detritus of coins, screwed-up notes, mobile phone and keys on the hall table with an echoing clatter.
