by Michael Wood
Ben didn’t look convinced. He started to say something then changed his mind, sighing instead.
‘Is something wrong?’ Sian asked.
‘What?’
‘You look like you’re sat on a knife-edge. What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Well I know that’s not true. Come on Ben, there’s only us two here, spit it out. It’s because Matilda’s back isn’t it?’
He flinched at the mere mention of her name. ‘I can’t help it. I know I shouldn’t be so angry towards her but it’s like she can do no wrong. I don’t care what that review panel concluded, she ballsed up the Carl Meagan case and she should have been fired, at the very least demoted. What happens? She’s still heading MIT and I’m still a fucking DI arresting scummy drug dealers and abusive husbands.’
Sian stared deep into her coffee cup. Ben looked up and remembered how close Sian and Matilda were. Would she tell her what he had just said?
‘Did you talk to her yesterday?’ Sian asked.
‘No. I didn’t even see her.’
‘What? Why not? Look, make the first move. Go and see her, welcome her back. Whether you mean it or not it will help.’
He shrugged. He wasn’t convinced. ‘I need some air. Thanks for the biscuits,’ he muttered, leaving the room before she could stop him.
Matilda came down the stairs feeling like she had undergone a make-over. Her hair was still damp from the shower but neatly combed. Her face was red from the heat but it was clean and her eyes were bright.
She entered the kitchen and Adele looked up at her. Matilda held her arms out to show the new and improved Matilda Darke. She was dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, crisp, clean and professional.
‘How do I look?’
‘Like a poorly poured pint of Guinness with a load of froth.’
‘Excellent. That’s the look I’m going for.’
Adele pushed the plunger down on a cafetière. Under the grill were two bagels slowly toasting. ‘Right, the bagels are a couple of days past their sell-by date but they’ll be fine toasted. You really need to do a shop.’
‘I know. I can’t remember the last time I did one.’
‘I tell you what; I’ll order you some stuff from the Internet, just the basics and I’ll have Chris come round and sit in when it’s due to arrive.’
‘You don’t need to do that. I’ll go to Tesco this weekend.’
‘No you won’t. Besides, Chris won’t mind. He’s very easily bribed.’
‘Thank you,’ Matilda said, bowing her head, embarrassed about needing to be looked after like this.
‘Now, what do you want on your bagels? I’ve thrown the cream cheese away. For some reason, grey cheese didn’t look appealing. All you’ve got is apricot jam and butter.’
‘Butter’s fine.’
‘Good, because apricots shouldn’t smell like feet; I think I’ll chuck this out too.’
Adele set about finishing off the breakfast while Matilda sat down at the table in the corner of the kitchen. She looked out of the window for the first time this morning and saw her abandoned back garden. The trees needed pruning; the bushes were wild and the grass almost knee-high. It was a mess but under a thick layer of frost from a night of freezing temperatures it looked lovely.
‘This winter seems to be dragging on.’
‘It’s only December,’ Adele said, bringing the coffee and bagels to the table. She sat opposite her and took a lingering sniff from her own mug of coffee. ‘We’ve got a few more months of this to come.’
‘I thought we’d have had snow by now. It’s cold enough.’
‘I love this time of year. I spent a fortune on my winter coat so I don’t mind a long cold winter. Eat your breakfast.’
Matilda began to eat slowly. With each tiny bite she took she spent time chewing before swallowing. She looked straight ahead, straight through Adele, and seemingly into another dimension.
‘What are you thinking about?’
‘Nothing,’ Matilda said.
‘You’re thinking about Jonathan Harkness aren’t you?’
‘Are you telepathic?’
‘I am. Why do you think Chris stays out of my way?’ She smiled. ‘So go on, why has Jonathan Harkness got under your skin?’
‘I don’t know. He’s just so sad. You can actually see it on his face.’
‘I can see it on your face too sometimes. You get a look. It’s like you’re here but you’re not here.’
‘He has the same look.’
‘That’s why you’re thinking about him a lot. He’s been like this for twenty years. You’ve been like this for almost one. You think you’re going to end up like him.’
‘Maybe.’
‘You’re not though. You have me and you have Chris, and your parents and your sister, when she remembers to call.’
‘Jonathan’s in his early thirties, right, and I don’t think he’s been happy for one single day in his life.’
‘That can’t be true,’ she scoffed. ‘He’ll have had some happy times as a child. He’s lived through a traumatic experience; he’s just blocked it out.’
They fell silent while Matilda took small bites of the stale bagel and struggled to swallow them. Adele drank her coffee, analysing her friend from the top of the mug. ‘You can’t save him, you know.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Jonathan Harkness. You can’t save him.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I knew this would happen. You blame yourself for Carl Meagan so you’re latching on to Jonathan Harkness as some form of redemption.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Is it?’
She relented. ‘Well can you blame me? Everywhere I look I see Carl Meagan. I killed him.’
‘Carl Meagan is not dead. He’s just missing.’
‘I should have found him.’
‘And Scotland Yard should have found Jack the Ripper but they didn’t. You cannot blame yourself for what happened. He was kidnapped, the ransom didn’t go to plan, and they fled with the child. Until a body is found he is still alive and could turn up at any time.’ She paused, allowing Matilda to take it all in. ‘Jonathan Harkness is a completely different person. This is a different case. So stop trying to save a lost cause.’
‘Jonathan’s brother used to abuse him. I get the feeling his parents knew and were too busy or just couldn’t be bothered to stop it.’
‘That is sad but it’s just a case you’re working on,’ Adele said, looking down. ‘What happened to the brother after they were split up?’
‘I’ve no idea. Jonathan seems to think he went to university in Manchester, after that he doesn’t know.’
‘So they lost contact?’
‘I think Jonathan would have been happy to get away from Matthew after everything he put him through. There’s nothing in the files that says where he is now.’
‘Maybe he’s left the country.’
‘Maybe. Listen, can you track people down through the medical archives?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, if you’ve had an operation or whatever, it stays on your medical records doesn’t it, for future reference?’
‘Yes.’
‘So we could track Matthew down through his medical history?’
‘It’s possible I suppose. Though if you’re talking about a guy who’s had his appendix out, that’s going to be a bloody long list.’
‘It’s more than that. When their parents died, Matthew went missing for a few days. It turned out he’d been hiding in the local woods in a den he’d built. By the time he turned up he was suffering from severe frostbite. He had to have a couple of toes removed.’
‘You’re joking?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Yesterday, a body was found in the city centre, on Holly Lane. I went to the scene and you’re Acting DCI Hales was there. It was a man in his mid-thirties who had been beaten to death. He was unrecogni
zable. His liver had actually exploded inside him. He was also missing a couple of toes from his left foot.’
‘Matthew Harkness?’
‘As of yesterday afternoon they hadn’t yet identified him.’
‘It’s got to be him. Surely.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Oh come on Adele, how many people do you know have toes missing?’
‘It certainly is a coincidence.’
‘The police don’t believe in the c-word. It’s got to be him.’
Suddenly Matilda came alive. The tiredness left her eyes and she was filled with the energy needed to get through another day. If Matthew was dead, murdered, then whoever killed him could be linked to the cold case of the Harkness killings.
Chapter 18
Matilda was happy to be stuck in traffic. For the first time since her return to work she had an energy that could see her pick up Ben Hales’s sodding Audi and throw it to the other side of the car park leaving her space free.
The news from Adele that her latest lodger in the mortuary was missing toes, just like Jonathan’s brother, gave her a smile on her face, and an eagerness to get to work. If it was the same person, could it be that the reopening of the Harkness case had brought the original murderer out of hiding? If so, why kill Matthew? He wasn’t even at home on the night his parents were killed. However, did he know something about who was responsible?
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. It had been five minutes since she’d moved. Chesterfield Road’s traffic problems seemed to be getting worse by the day. The council had spent thousands of pounds putting in parking bays and new traffic light systems, but the flow of traffic had not eased.
She bit her lower lip in anticipation of a productive day’s work ahead. She could feel the prickly heat of anxiety rising up her back but it wasn’t a worrying feeling; she was anxious because she wanted to get to work. She was almost excited.
By the time she kicked open the door to her claustrophobic office-cum-cupboard, DC Rory Fleming was already waiting for her. He was dressed in a light grey suit, white shirt, and grey tie. He looked smart, fresh, and raring to go. Matilda was hot, flushed, and sweating.
‘How long have you been here?’ she asked, trying to get her breath back.
‘About half an hour or so.’
‘You come the same way as I do. Didn’t you hit the traffic on Chesterfield Road?’
‘No,’ he shrugged, turning in his seat and getting back to the sports section in The Sun.
‘You can put that away. There’s been a development.’ She sat down and looked at him with wide eyes. She couldn’t wait to get started. ‘Have you heard about the case the murder team are working on?’
Rory rolled his eyes. ‘No. I’ve been left out of all the excitement. It’s like I’ve been ostracized since working this cold case. I said hello to Sian this morning and she looked at me as if she was trying to remember who I was.’
Matilda couldn’t help but smile. ‘Well, you may be back in the Murder Room sooner than you think.’
‘Really?’
‘Yesterday morning a body was found in Holly Lane, in the city centre, next to an 80s themed nightclub.’
‘I know it,’ Rory said, interrupting. ‘It’s just off West Street. I’ve had some great nights out around there.’
‘Anyway,’ she continued, ignoring him, ‘the body was missing a couple of toes on his left foot. Last night when I went to visit Jonathan Harkness…’
‘You visited Jonathan Harkness last night? I thought you had a curfew?’
Matilda sighed. ‘Do you want to hear this or not?’
‘Go on.’
‘I was talking to Jonathan about his brother. Just after their parents were killed Matthew went missing for a few days. Now, it was December and freezing cold and he was hiding out in a den he’d made in the woods. When he was found he was suffering from mild hypothermia, and, get this, he had to have a couple of toes removed from his left foot.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yep,’ she said, sitting back in her chair and smiling.
‘So the dead body is Matthew Harkness?’
‘He’ll have to be identified, but it’s a bit of a coincidence don’t you think? How many people do you know have missing toes?’
‘Have you shared this with the Acting DCI?’
Matilda’s smile suddenly dropped and she felt her blood run cold. Just because the man had nicked her parking space did not make him evil. Why was she feeling such animosity towards him?
‘Not yet. I just wanted to sound it out, make sure I’m not jumping the gun or anything.’
‘Well, like you said, it’s a mighty coincidence, and, as you know, rule number one of the police handbook: there is no such thing as coincidences.’
‘I should probably go and see him then.’
‘Probably.’
They both remained motionless in their seats.
‘Did Sheffield United win last night?’ She nodded at his open newspaper.
The walk from her small office to the Murder Room felt endless. Every tap her shoes made on the plastic tiled flooring seemed to get louder as if announcing her journey. As she turned the corner and saw the double doors up ahead she felt a heavy weight upon her. She felt as if she didn’t belong here.
At the glass doors to the Murder Room Matilda stood looking in. This was no longer her domain. Standing on the threshold she felt like a stranger. As she opened the doors everyone stopped in their task to look at their visitor. Suddenly the ticking clock was the loudest noise. If there had been a man in the corner playing the piano he would have stopped and headed for the safety of his seat by the bar.
Sian moved first and gave her a little wave. The smile on her face was beaming. Ben looked up from his laptop and their eyes met. Who would blink first? Matilda was frozen to the spot. Her hand was gripped firmly on the door handle and the whiteness of her knuckles suggested she was not going to let go. The silence lengthened.
The two cowboys were at a stalemate, both waiting for the other to make the first move.
Walpole, Compton, Pelham, Pelham-Holles, Cavendish.
From out of nowhere, Rory Fleming squeezed past Matilda and entered the room. ‘Aaron, you owe me a fiver you loser.’
His outburst broke the silence and the mannequins of detectives felt they were able to move again and return to their duties.
‘Don’t think so,’ DS Aaron Connolly said. ‘It was a draw. The goal was disallowed.’
‘The ball was way over the line. It was obvious.’
‘That’s not what the referee said,’ Aaron said.
‘The ref and the linesmen were tossers. The ball was definitely over the line, everyone says so. You owe me a fiver.’
‘Officially, the ball didn’t make it into the goal. Therefore the fiver stays in my pocket. Better luck next time,’ he said. His grin was wide and cheeky.
Matilda made her way gingerly over to Ben’s desk.
‘Hello Ben,’ she said in a quiet, pathetic, voice.
‘Matilda. Good to see you back.’ His lie was obvious.
She tried to remember if Hales had used her Christian name before, but her mind was a thick mist. It felt strange hearing him drop rank.
‘It’s good to be back. How’s everything going in here?’ she asked, looking around the room and seeing nothing had changed. The room did look smaller for some reason.
‘It’s going well.’
‘Good. I hear you’ve got a dead man who is missing a few toes,’ she began, eager to drive the conversation forward so she could get out of here. She suddenly had the urge to vomit and she didn’t know why.
‘That’s right.’ He looked over at Sian and his frown deepened.
Matilda wondered whether he thought Sian was feeding her information. Even if Hales did accuse her, Sian could take care of herself. ‘Have you managed to identify him yet?’
‘Not yet, no, but it’s early days.’
‘I�
��m sure you know that I’m working on the Harkness cold case.’ Ben nodded and his lips moved as if to smile. Matilda pushed on. ‘I was talking to Jonathan Harkness yesterday and he happened to mention that his brother’s left foot is minus a couple of toes.’
‘Really?’ He folded his arms in defence.
‘Yes. I’m wondering if I could get Jonathan Harkness to have a look at the body; see if he can ID him.’
Ben bit his bottom lip. ‘I think perhaps we should go and have a chat with the ACC.’
‘Surely we don’t need to involve the ACC. If it turns out not to be Matthew then we’ve wasted everyone’s time.’
‘This is my case Matilda. I want the ACC to know everything that is going on.’
Chapter 19
Maun Barrington was wrapped up against the elements. It was the sixth day in a row that daytime temperatures had barely scraped zero degrees and forecasters were not optimistic of a respite in the cold weather. Snow was on its way, apparently. When, the forecasters couldn’t say, but Sheffield was in a prime position as it was sheltered by the Pennines that bore the brunt of any heavy snowfall coming in from the west.
Maun, however, was not taking any risks. The heavy snowfall of 2010 had caused her to be housebound for several days, unable to get out and restock her cupboards of the most basic provisions.
Her Morrison’s trolley was stocked with everyday needs. Reluctantly, she added several tubs of powdered milk. She hated the taste of the stuff and it didn’t matter how many times she stirred her coffee, little flakes of powder floated to the top, but needs must when the devil drives.
As she made her way to the cashier to pay, she stopped at the newspaper stand and added several dailies to her shopping along with the locals; the Sheffield Star, the Sheffield Telegraph, and the Yorkshire Post.
It took three trips from her car to her flat to unload her provisions. On the final leg she came across two of her neighbours in the foyer. They both turned their back to her as she came through the door. They lowered their voices and waited until Maun had disappeared up the stairs and around the corner before they returned to their normal speaking voices.
It no longer bothered Maun that she was being shunned in such a way by her childish neighbours. She had been ostracized for the best part of twenty-five years, she was used to it. She had Jonathan to chat to and keep her company, which was enough for her. Things seemed to be changing though. Jonathan was reluctant to engage Maun in conversation. He didn’t want her with him when his childhood home was being demolished, and she guessed he wouldn’t want to talk about events in the newspaper. He had also been dropping Stephen Egan’s name into conversation. She guessed he was someone from work, but who, and why did he seem to have such an effect on Jonathan?
