by Michael Wood
‘DS Mills. CID,’ Sian said, answering her phone.
‘Sian, it’s Matilda. Don’t look up. Don’t move.’
Sian sat frozen at her desk. Around her, colleagues and friends, went about their business. Sian took a risk and glanced up. Straight ahead, Matilda sat at her desk in her office with the door closed. They made eye contact.
‘What’s going on?’ Sian said quietly.
‘You need to act like you’re having a normal conversation. Just carry on doing whatever it is you were doing before I rang.’
Sian leaned down and picked out a packet of Maltesers from her desk. She opened them and shovelled a few into her mouth.
‘Really? That’s what you were doing?’
‘What? I’m hungry.’
Matilda rolled her eyes. ‘Fair enough. Now, Sian, when Karen Lacey came to see you, who was around?’
‘Everyone. I was in the incident room when the call came through. Rory and Scott were talking about their flat. Faith and Kesinka were discussing their boyfriends. Christian was in his office.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘Ranjeet was doing something with the photocopier.’
‘Who called you to say Karen had come to see you?’
‘Oh, nobody. Steve came in and asked if anyone was available to talk to her. She hadn’t come to see me specifically.’
‘OK. Was there anyone who could have overheard your conversation with Karen?’
‘No. We went into an interview room.’
‘Which one?’
‘Three I think. Why?’
‘And three doesn’t have an observation room overlooking it, so you couldn’t have been overheard that way.’
‘No. What’s going on?’ Sian asked, concerned. Despite trying to appear nonchalant, she was looking straight at Matilda now.
‘I think you’ve just confirmed who our killer is.’
Matilda came off the phone to Sian and was about to make another call, when Sian came into the office with a black coffee and a Bounty.
‘Are you going to tell me who it is?’ Sian asked.
Matilda handed her the photograph and the magnifying glass. ‘Don’t look at the fuzzy man, look at the desk. What’s on top of the red folder?’
Sian squeezed her eyes together as she tried to focus. The penny suddenly dropped. ‘Jesus Christ! You can’t be serious, surely?’
‘I’m afraid I am,’ Matilda said. She had a similar expression to Sian.
‘Should we be scared?’
‘I’m doing everything possible to keep everyone safe. I need to get the killer away from the station, so I can confront them.’
‘How are you going to do that?’
‘Right now, I’ve absolutely no idea.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I know it’s difficult, but you need to be as normal as possible. Act like nothing has changed.’
‘Shit,’ she said under her breath. ‘I’m going to need a deeper snack drawer.’
Matilda watched Sian leave and go back to her desk. Kesinka called her over. She went, but she wasn’t the usual chatty Sian everyone knew and loved. She stood by Kesinka’s desk, arms folded firmly across her chest. While Kes was talking, Sian’s eyes wandered suspiciously around the room, watching the people she had worked alongside for years. Suddenly, they didn’t look so friendly anymore.
It didn’t seem to matter what subterfuge Matilda tried to put into place, she couldn’t seem to get her chief suspect out of the station without raising suspicion. In the end, she made the decision to wait until the end of the day and everybody started to go home. It was a long and agonizing wait. It was tempting to storm out of her office and slap the cuffs on him, drag him into an interview room and beat him into submission. For practical reasons, that wasn’t possible. She kept going back to the statements James Dalziel and the other criminal psychologists she’d been in touch with had given her. A killer of this kind, a man suffering with such delusions, a narcissist, wouldn’t come quietly. He’d want to go out in a blaze of glory, and he’d take as many people with him as he could.
There was no chance Matilda was going to risk her team, or anyone in the station for that matter. It had to be her, and the Hangman, nobody else. If she was cornered and he decided on a murder/suicide, then so be it. All she had left was her house, and Ben Hales had destroyed that for her.
‘Sian, have you heard from Aaron?’ Matilda asked from the doorway of her office as people were leaving for the day.
‘Yes. Katrina’s back home. Mother and baby are doing fine.’
‘Good. Before you rush off, do you want to talk about having a whip-round or something?’
‘Sure.’
Matilda waited until Sian had closed the door behind her before informing her of the real reason for getting her in the office.
‘So are you clear on what I want you to do?’
‘Unfortunately, yes I am.’
‘I know it’s not going to be easy, but it’s the only way. Take Scott with you. I’ve got Rory heading for Batemoor.’
‘What are you going to do?’
Matilda thought for a while. ‘I think I’m going to be winging it.’
Sian and Scott drove in silence through rush-hour traffic. The atmosphere was heavy, as they knew what task lay ahead once they had reached their destination. With every red light they reached, they simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief. An extra few seconds added to their journey was most welcome.
‘Shit!’ Scott suddenly said. ‘I’ve just remembered something.’
‘What?’ Sian snapped.
‘Faith isn’t staying at home at the moment. She mentioned something about house-sitting for a relative.’
‘Oh bloody hell, Scott,’ Sian said, fishing out her mobile phone. ‘Why didn’t you say so earlier?’
‘I forgot.’
‘Boss, it’s me,’ Sian said into her phone. ‘Scott has remembered that Faith isn’t staying at home. She’s house-sitting.’
The realization dawned on Matilda too. ‘Of course she is. She told me too. I was only half listening. Ask Scott if he can remember where.’
Sian relayed the message. ‘He says not, but it’s a big townhouse just outside the city centre.’
‘That doesn’t exactly narrow it down. Hang on.’ There was a pause. ‘Yes … I … Rocks Road. I remember because I thought she was talking about Rocky Road,’ Matilda gave a nervous laugh. ‘I’m not far. I’ll divert. You two double-back and meet me there.’
‘Will do.’ Sian hung up. ‘Turn around when you can and head for Rocks Road.’
‘Sorry,’ Scott said. He wore a heavy frown of guilt.
‘Not a good start, is it? I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’
Rory drove at speed up Meadowhead. He’d finally broken free of the evening traffic on Chesterfield Road. He wished he was in a squad car; he could have used the blues and twos.
He went straight ahead at Meadowhead roundabout, causing three cars to beep at him and a white van to swerve. In Rory’s defence, he was in the right in the tussle with the white van man. He didn’t slow down when he reached the turn-off to Batemoor and entered the housing estate at fifty miles per hour.
As he approached his destination, he slowed down. Matilda had told him not to draw attention to himself, to make it look like he was visiting a friend or a relative, like this wasn’t an ambush. He slowed to twenty miles per hour and felt like a kerb crawler as he crept along the roads at a snail’s pace.
Up ahead, he saw the house and quickly found a suitable place to park. He climbed out of the car and took his time straightening his jacket, as if people’s lives weren’t in any danger.
He knocked on the green door and waited. Took a step back and looked up at the ground-floor maisonette. It was in complete darkness. He knocked again, more urgently now.
‘He’s not in.’ A woman approached the block pushing a double buggy with a further two small children either side of her.
‘No. He left over a week ago carrying a few bags. He told my Roger he was going away for a bit. House-sitting, I think he said.’
‘Did he say where?’
‘No.’ She unlocked her door and went into her own home, slamming it closed behind her.
‘Bollocks,’ Rory said to himself. He headed to his car, mobile phone clamped to his ear.
Matilda pulled up outside a row of new-builds. Townhouses on three floors. They looked smart, welcoming, and homely.
It was dark. The solar-powered street lights weren’t very powerful and didn’t provide much light for the road. There was a fine drizzle falling and the breeze had picked up too. As Matilda stepped out of her car she looked around her. An elderly woman was walking an elderly dog, both wrapped up against the elements. She stared up at the houses. Most had lights on. Families sitting down to an evening meal or watching television. Children doing their homework. Behind each of these front doors, lives were continuing as normal. Behind one of them, Matilda had no idea what to expect.
Matilda recognized the car parked outside number 9 and walked slowly towards the house. The windows were dark. Despite the car on the drive, it appeared nobody was home.
She rang the bell and waited. There was no reply. She leaned into the doorway and rang again, listening for any sound of movement from within. There was nothing. She tried the handle and found the door was unlocked.
‘Shit,’ she mumbled. She remembered when she knocked on Gordon Berry’s door and it opened. She hoped there wasn’t going to be a similar scene of carnage here.
Matilda pushed the door slowly open and stepped into the hallway. It was cold and dark. She closed the door behind her. She didn’t want to turn on the light for fear of alerting someone. There were three doors ahead of her, all closed. She noticed an underlying smell of newness – new carpet, new decorating. Then she heard something.
Matilda stopped in her tracks. It was faint, but definitely there. Breathing. Shallow breaths. Whimpering.
A light was switched on. The hallway and staircase were suddenly illuminated. Matilda looked up and saw Faith Easter standing at the top of the stairs. Crying. Her hands tied at the wrists, her legs at the ankles. She had a gag around her mouth, breathing was difficult. Attached to the bannister in front of her was a rope. The other end had been tied into a noose tightened around Faith’s neck.
‘Faith?’ Matilda asked quietly. ‘Oh my God. Don’t move.’
‘I’m sorry, boss,’ she struggled to speak through the gag. Her words were barely audible.
‘Stay calm.’
Faith’s eyes kept darting to the left then back on Matilda. She was signalling. He was beside her, out of view.
‘Why don’t you come out into the open, Steve,’ Matilda said aloud.
There was the sound of slow, sarcastic applauding as PC Steve Harrison stepped out from the shadows behind Faith and rested his arms on the bannister. He was still dressed in uniform.
‘You finally twigged on, did you?’ he asked. ‘It took you bloody long enough. DCI Matilda Darke, head of the Murder Investigation Team, in charge of the entire CID. Talk about punching above your weight. I thought I was going to have to go on killing people forever.’
‘Why are you doing this, Steve?’
‘Why? You mean the great DCI Darke doesn’t know?’
‘I know you’ve tried to get into CID twice. You’ve failed the National Investigators’ Exam twice. I know you’ve had several run-ins with your sergeants. Been called up on your lack of commitment on many occasions.’
Steve was shaking his head. ‘No. You’ve got it all wrong. I am committed. Fully committed to my job. It’s people like you who don’t want me to succeed. If your face doesn’t fit, if you’re not prepared to brown-nose, if you show evidence of using your own initiative, you’re not welcome.’
‘That is rubbish, Steve,’ Matilda said, glancing from Steve to a petrified Faith beside him.
‘Oh come on. I’ve seen you being all pally with the ACC. There isn’t a day goes by but you’re not in her office having coffee. And what about DI Brady and DS Mills? Talk about suck-ups. And don’t get me started on Scott and Rory. What the fuck are they even doing in CID?’ With each name he spat out, his anger grew. This was a long campaign he had been waging. He’d been full of resentment and hatred for so long that it was finally bubbling to the surface. Just like it did with Ben Hales.
‘Steve, if you’re feeling disillusioned about the police force, there are people you can talk to.’
He laughed bitterly.
‘Tell me about Brian Appleby,’ Matilda asked. She wanted to keep Steve talking for as long as possible, at least until Sian and Scott turned up. If Steve Harrison really was a narcissist he would welcome relishing in his crimes.
He smirked. ‘You’ve seen the CCTV footage?’
‘We have.’
‘I had the desk to myself. In walks Brian Appleby, all confidence and swagger, designer clothes, then he just comes straight out with it: “I’m a paedophile from Essex”, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I went through the motions but didn’t log his information. I kept it up here,’ he said, tapping his temple. ‘Then I had an idea.’
‘You decided to execute him.’
‘I was doing the world a favour. Getting rid of a pervert. You know, I was only planning to kill him. It was the way the filthy nonce came into the station like he didn’t have a care in the world.’
‘So why did you kill the others?’
‘You,’ he replied, his voice lowered.
‘Me?’
‘When you arrived at Brian Appleby’s house I’d found out that morning that I failed my National Investigators’ Exam. I was feeling pretty pissed off. Then you turned up. You showed me your warrant card, you took the forensic suit from me and you just walked inside. You didn’t give me a second glance. I was nobody, a nothing. Then the way you spoke to that journalist, Danny Hanson, everything seemed to fall into place. He was another one, just like me, a lowly on the first rung of the career ladder, doing everything he could to catch a break and you swotted him like a fly. Once you’re at the top, you don’t give a fuck about the people on the bottom.’
‘So you continued killing because I ignored you?’
‘It wasn’t just then. You’ve ignored me every time you’ve seen me. Outside the hospital room, where that paedo got beaten up. I even mentioned it was my birthday. At Joe Lacey’s house. Did you even know I was there?’
Matilda looked at the ground.
‘You didn’t, did you? It’s us in uniform that do all the legwork, the shit nobody else wants to do and you don’t even acknowledge it. When you bumped into me on the stairs and I dropped some files, you didn’t apologize. If it’s not affecting Matilda then Matilda doesn’t want to know,’ he spat.
‘Steve, you’re reading far too much into this,’ Matilda tried to assuage his anger.
‘Am I?’ he shouted.
Matilda listened for the sound of a speeding car, for Sian and Scott to come bounding into the house, but there was nothing. How much longer could she keep him talking?
‘How did you know Katie Reaney was going to be in the house on her own that night?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t. I’d been watching her for months. She should really have been victim number two, but I could never find a time to catch her alone. I think she was my favourite kill.’ He gave a warm smile that lit up his whole face. He may blame Matilda for starting him off on his murder spree, but, at the end of the day, he’d enjoyed every single moment.
‘How did you put the noose into my bag at the half-marathon?’ Matilda asked. She edged herself closer to the stairs.
‘Really? You’re asking me that? It was me who handed you your fucking pack,’ he said, venom in his voice. ‘You didn’t see me? You didn’t fucking see me? You really are the most self-centred woman I’ve ever met.’
‘Steve, I
understand that you’re pissed off, but your argument is with me, not Faith. Why does she have to be here? I thought you two were in a relationship.’
‘She thinks we are,’ he said, nodding in her direction. ‘I wanted information about the case and she was happy to give it, providing I shagged her every once in a while. Still, we have to suffer to get what we want, don’t we?’
Faith’s tears were uncontrollable.
‘She loves you, Steve,’ Matilda said softly, hoping the prospect of a positive in all this would win him over.
‘Does she?’ He shrugged. ‘You see, she’s another one. She was hand-picked by DI Hales to go into the MIT when you were off boo-hooing over your husband. She had the prime opportunity to make something of herself, of her career, and what happened? She couldn’t handle the pressure. Like Scott and Rory, she doesn’t deserve to be in CID. All three of them should be in uniform.’
‘How did you find out about Joe Lacey, Gordon Berry, and Katie Reaney?’
‘When you’re ignored it’s easy to do research on the PNC and Internet forums when you should be working.’
‘You made a mistake with Joe Lacey though.’
‘Yes I did. When Karen was confessing to Sian I couldn’t believe it. You see, Sian’s another one. She likes to think she’s everybody’s friend, but when you wear a uniform, you’re easily overlooked. I walked into that interview room with a tray of coffee and she didn’t notice the recording device. Completely oblivious.’
‘Did you really have to kill Karen Lacey?’
‘What kind of a question is that? Of course I did. She allowed someone to serve her sentence for her. When I went to see her I think she was actually pleased. She didn’t struggle at all. I’m sure she would have thanked me if she could.’
‘Gordon Berry overpowered you though, didn’t he?’
Steve shrugged it off. ‘I think being pissed probably gave him more confidence. You should have seen his face when he came into the station.’ He grinned. ‘He nearly shat himself.’
‘How did you find Gordon again after he’d done a runner?’
‘It was easier than you think. I phoned him. I put on an accent. Told him we knew who he was from CCTV and asked if he wanted protection. He jumped at the chance. I arranged to meet him. Unfortunately, he clocked me and did a runner. I soon caught up with him though, at the bus station. I enjoyed the chase, actually. You see, that’s another example, when Gordon sent you flying, it was me who picked you up. Did you thank me? No. Did you notice it was me?’
