Outside Looking In

by Michael Wood

  ‘Next time we go out, you’ve got to come with us. We’ll have a laugh.’

  ‘Thanks Joe, but like I said, I’m not into clubbing.’

  ‘Come to the pubs then; have a few drinks, game of pool.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ he was already trying to think of an excuse to get out of it.

  ‘Just you and me then. We’ll have a couple of drinks after work one night.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, sure.’

  ‘OK,’ Scott could cope with a one-on-one night out. It was groups, especially groups of people he didn’t know, that scared him.

  ‘On Friday, The Showroom are showing The Towering Inferno. It’s one of my favourite films. Have you seen it?’

  ‘Of course. It’s a classic.’

  ‘Fancy going? We could go for a curry afterwards, have a discussion about disaster films. Sorry, I’m a bit of a film geek, especially when it comes to the classics.’

  ‘So am I,’ Scott’s face lit up. ‘I’m a huge Hitchcock fan. Is there anything creepier than The Birds?’

  ‘I’ve seen that film hundreds of times and it still scares the crap out of me. You up for it then; Friday night?’

  ‘Yes. Definitely.’ Scott genuinely meant it, too.

  They pulled up outside Anderson’s Garage. Scott looked at his watch; it was almost nine o’clock.

  Lucas Branning was the closest person to Alice Hardaker yet to provide an alibi for his whereabouts on the night of the shooting. The PNC confirmed his address and registered place of work. They had tried his grubby flat above a long since closed shop but there had been no reply. Fingers crossed he was at work.

  ‘They’re obviously open; the shutters are up,’ Joseph said, stifling a yawn.

  ‘No sign of life though. Come on, the fresh air might wake you up.’

  The air was extremely fresh. A strong breeze had picked up bringing in an easterly wind. They both closed their jackets tight and made their way over to the garage. There was still no sign of life.

  ‘Hello?’ Scott called out. His voice echoed around the empty yard.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ came the eventual reply followed by the sound of a flushing toilet.

  Scott and Joseph exchanged glances and smiled.

  ‘Typical. I can’t even have a shite in peace.’ The man came through the doors fastening the belt on his jeans. He was short and stocky and had a shaved head.

  Scott put his hand in his inside pocket for his warrant card. ‘Lucas Branning?’

  ‘The one and only.’

  ‘I’m DC Scott Andrews and this is—’

  He didn’t get time to finish his introduction before Lucas Branning turned heel and headed back through the door. Joseph followed with Scott bringing up the rear.

  The inside of the garage was dark, cold, wet, and filthy. They couldn’t see much but they could certainly hear the overweight Branning making his way through the maze. He came out into a yard with abandoned cars and mounds of tyres. There was an eight-foot fence at the back, which would slow him down as he struggled to heave his heavy frame over. Joseph was well over six foot and lean. He’d be on him in no time.

  At the fence, Branning turned around. He picked up a discarded carjack and hurled it at Joseph without a second thought. It caught him a glancing blow on his head and the young DC dropped like a stone. Using the piles of tyres as steps Branning hopped up and over the fence, jumped the eight feet to the ground on the other side, and away into the distance without looking back.

  Scott stopped to tend to his colleague. The head wound looked bad and the whole left side of his face was covered in blood. Joseph Glass was unconscious.

  TWENTY-TWO

  ‘Rory, with me.’

  Matilda didn’t even enter the Murder Room. She opened the door just wide enough to stick her head through, gave her command, then left again.

  Matilda hadn’t slept much last night. The phone call had been repeating itself over and over in her mind, refusing her sleep. Earlier in the car park near John Lewis she thought it was strange – the dark-coloured BMW opposite her own, not moving. The bright headlights were focused on her, blinding her, so she couldn’t see into the car and identify the driver. At the time she thought it was a potential mugger waiting to pounce. However, in the depths of night, as she lay in the dark, her mind tormenting her, she remembered the car from before. It had been following her for days. But who would follow her and why? Was it the same person who had sent the newspaper clipping and the cruel note? Was it the same person who made the phone call? If so, why were they doing this? Who was targeting her?

  She wondered if she should report it. The sensible answer was yes but with the way she had been acting lately would anyone believe her? Valerie might do, but then she might think Matilda’s paranoid mind was in overdrive and force her to take some time off, or at least hand the case over to someone else. Matilda couldn’t have that. For now, she would keep it to herself.

  Matilda eventually fell asleep around three o’clock. It wasn’t a natural sleep; it was mere exhaustion. Her mind had worn itself out and it needed a couple of hours to rest. Over a forced breakfast of toasted stale bread and a black coffee strong enough to sit up and smack her in the mouth she received a text message from Sian telling her Lois Craven was well enough to be interviewed. She sent a reply asking Sian to make the arrangements for late morning, giving herself time to inject plenty of caffeine inside her.

  As she left the house she had a good look around before getting into the car. The caller last night had known about the books being delivered. When they had arrived it had been dark. Whoever had called had obviously been watching her, watching the house. Were they watching now? Looking around she saw an elderly woman walking an elderly dog, a sullen teenager dragging his feet as he delivered newspapers, two young women in their early twenties chatting and laughing as they made their way to the bus stop. Who were these people? Matilda hadn’t seen them before, hadn’t acknowledged their existence, but she could have passed them every morning. Suddenly, they were all threats and possible intruders.

  Rory came out of the Murder Room. As usual he was dressed in an immaculate suit, matching tie and crisp shirt. His hair was perfectly styled; the dark curls beautifully sculptured. And not a blemish on his skin.

  Matilda looked him up and down. Why did he always have to look like clothes were tailor-made for him? He could make a potato sack look like a designer suit. Matilda’s shape made designer suits look like a bag of marbles.

  ‘I’ve got something for you,’ Rory began. A smug smile on his face.

  ‘It can wait. We’re going to the hospital to interview Lois. We need to be there for eleven.’

  Matilda saw Rory examine her. He had obviously noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and guessed she’d had a rough night. Would he wonder if she was back on the drink? Usually Rory enjoyed a good gossip among his colleagues in the Murder Room but recently he had been uncharacte‌ristically quiet. She hoped his moody spell would continue and he wouldn’t say anything about her appearance.

  ‘I had a phone call from forensics this morning. They apologized but they’ve been snowed under with all these burglaries. They emailed me what was on Lois Craven’s phone.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well she’s a crafty woman. She’d deleted all her texts. They’ve managed to obtain them but the majority were all mushy crap between her and Kevin Hardaker. There was only one conversation left on her phone. It was from the day of the shooting and it was between her and Kevin.’

  ‘Anything interesting?’

  ‘You could say that. She was planning to leave her husband and set up home with Kevin.’

  This stopped Matilda. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Take a look for yourself,’ he handed her the printout he’d been carrying since leaving the Murder Room.

  Hello. Are we still on for meeting later?

  Yes. 5.30. Usual place.

  Excellent. I’ve got some grea
t news for you.

  Can u tell me now?

  I wanted it to be a surprise but I don’t think I can wait until tonight.

  Go on then.

  We’ve got the flat!!!

  You’re JOKING!?

  I wouldn’t joke about something like this. The contract was emailed to me this morning. I signed it and sent it straight back.

  OMG! This is really happening then isn’t it?

  It certainly is. No backing out now.

  So when do we do it?

  Absolutely no pressure. Whenever you want to tell Martin, you go for it.

  When r u telling Alice?

  This weekend. She’s out on Saturday morning with her sister. I’ll pack my things, tell her when she gets back and then go straight to the flat.

  Right. Blimey, I can’t believe this is happening.

  You’re not going off the idea are you?

  Of course not. I want this. I love u.

  Love you too. I’m going into a meeting now. We can discuss this more tonight. See you later, xxx.

  Bye, xxx

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Matilda said when she’d read it twice.

  ‘They’ve bought a flat together and everything.’

  ‘Do we know where this flat is?’

  ‘No. I’ve got someone in tech going through Kevin’s phone and email account. As soon as they’ve found something they’re going to let me know.’

  ‘Something to question Lois about. That and why a woman in her 40s is using OMG. Excellent work Rory. I’d kiss you if it wasn’t inappropriate.’

  Despite all his bravado Rory found himself blushing.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Thanks to the never-ending roadworks around the Northern General Hospital, Matilda and Rory were ten minutes late arriving. Matilda gently knocked on the door to the private room and walked in.

  Lois Craven was sitting up in bed. She had a thick bandage wrapped around her head and her face was a mass of bruises and cuts. She looked frightened and timid. There was a cannula sticking out of her right hand leading to a drip, and her heart rate and blood pressure were constantly being monitored. She smiled at her visitors but it looked painful. On the bedside cabinet and windowsill there were cards from family and friends, a hand-drawn one from Thomas stood out, and several teddy bears were dotted around the room, each of them offering a sweet smile to aid the patient in her recovery.

  Next to the bed was a drawn and pale looking Martin Craven. He appeared to have lost weight since the last time Matilda had seen him. His eyes were heavy and his lips a thin white line of pent-up aggression. It was obvious he didn’t want to be here. Matilda couldn’t blame him. Surely he wouldn’t want to hear what had happened to his wife, the ordeal she went through or what the man she was with meant to her. He probably wished he was anywhere else in the world other than in this small oppressive hospital room.

  ‘Mrs Craven, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Matilda Darke. This is Detective Constable Rory Fleming. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Battered. Bruised. Tired.’ Her voice was broken and she took long pauses between each word.

  ‘If you’re in too much pain to do this we can come back another time.’

  She shook her head, or tried to at least.

  ‘I think we’d like to get this over with as soon as possible,’ Martin said. He stood up and brought two chairs forward from the back of the room.

  Matilda took her chair and put it beside Lois so she could be close to her. Rory maintained his distance.

  ‘Do you mind if I record this interview? DC Fleming will be making notes but I’d like to make sure I don’t miss anything.’

  ‘Just do what you have to do,’ Martin said; his attitude was frosty. The way he bit his lip and his eyes darted rapidly from his wife to Matilda and back again was evidence of his patience reaching breaking point.

  Matilda brought a digital recorder out of her inside pocket and placed it on the bed next to Lois.

  ‘First of all Lois, do you want your husband present while we have this conversation?’

  ‘What kind of a question is that?’ Martin jumped up out of his seat. ‘Of course she wants me present. I’m her husband for fuck’s sake.’

  ‘Mr Craven, please, this isn’t helping. Your wife has been through a terrible ordeal. What she is going to say is not going to be easy to listen to. She may not want to put you through it.’

  ‘We’ve been through a lot as husband and wife as it is. Trust me, there’s nothing she can say that will shock me.’ He sat back down and folded his arms in defiance.

  ‘Lois?’ Matilda asked.

  Lois refused to look at her husband but gave a brief nod to Matilda.

  ‘Right. Let’s begin. First of all, I want you to tell me what you were doing on Clough Lane at that time of night.’

  It was a while before Lois answered. She swallowed a couple of times as if trying to stop the words from coming out. Eventually, she took a deep breath and began: ‘I’ve been having an affair …’

  The words resounded off the walls like a ball in a game of squash. Matilda could see Martin’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. She had angled her chair in the perfect position to gauge their responses to the questions answered. Martin closed his eyes tight and took a deep breath. Knowing about his wife’s betrayal was one thing, having it confirmed was difficult to hear.

  She continued. ‘I’ve known Kevin a while. We went to the same tennis club. We met in the bar. Swapped stories about matches and tournaments on TV. We started playing doubles together.’

  She paused to have a drink of water, just a few sips. It was difficult for her to talk, both mentally and physically.

  ‘We had so much in common. Not just the tennis but other things too. Favourite foods, holiday destinations, films, books. I started going to the club more than twice a week. It was about three weeks after we met that I realized we weren’t playing tennis anymore. We’d meet in the bar, get a drink and just talk. Eventually I even stopped getting my gear out of the car. It was Kevin who brought this up. He said, instead of meeting at the club why not go for a meal or to a gallery.

  ‘I’ve had an affair before. More than one. Martin has always taken me back. I don’t know why. I love him. I really do, but I’m a terrible wife. I love my husband and I love my kids, but I just keep hurting them all and I honestly don’t know why.’

  I’m sure Dr Warminster would know why.

  Lois looked in a great deal of discomfort. Matilda wondered how much of this was due to her injuries and how much was recounting her story in front of her husband.

  Matilda could see anger rising on Martin’s face. How could he sit and listen to this without wanting to scream or throw something?

  ‘So why Clough Lane?’

  ‘It’s out of the way. We’d been there a few times. It’s so sordid isn’t it? Two people in their forties parking on a quiet country road for … well … It’s just, we had nowhere else to go.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, you should have said. I’d have taken the kids to the cinema twice a week,’ Martin chimed up. It was obvious he had been struggling to hold his tongue.

  Three pairs of eyes quickly turned to him. He apologized and looked down at the floor, ashamed of his outburst.

  ‘What happened on that night?’

  ‘We parked up. We weren’t doing anything. We were chatting. Then, the driver’s door opened and Kevin was literally ripped out of the car. It was like some kind of animal just grabbed him and pulled him out.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think I screamed. I leaned over to where Kevin was to see what was happening but the door was slammed closed and the car was locked.’

  ‘Who locked it?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m guessing the attacker took the key out of the ignition. It all happened so quickly.’

  ‘Did you try and open the doors?’

  ‘Yes, but they wouldn’t open.’

  ‘What happened then?’
>
  ‘I was looking out of the window to see what was happening but I couldn’t see anything. It was dark.’

  ‘Did you hear anything?’

  A tear fell down Lois’s face, which she quickly wiped away. She nodded. ‘I could hear Kevin. He was being beaten. He was begging for the attacker to stop, to just take whatever he wanted and leave us alone.’

  ‘Where was the attack taking place? Was it right outside the car or a bit further up the Lane?’

  ‘It was right outside. The car was rocking.’

  ‘Could you hear what was being said?’

  ‘No. Just Kevin begging for him to stop.’

  ‘How long did it go on for?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Two minutes? Five? Ten?’

  ‘I don’t know. It seemed like forever, but was probably only about five minutes or so.’

  ‘Didn’t you try and get out of the car during that time?’

  ‘I already said. I tried the door handle.’

  ‘Where was your bag?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Your bag. Did you have it with you in the car?’

  ‘Yes. It was on the floor in front of me.’

  ‘Did you have your mobile with you?’

  ‘Yes I did. I’d turned it off late afternoon to save the battery; me and Kevin had been texting quite a bit that day. I turned it on but I couldn’t remember the PIN to unlock the phone. I just froze. Then the door opened and the attacker grabbed my phone and pushed me away. I fell and knocked my head on the dashboard.’

  ‘Did you lose consciousness?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. I remember sitting back up.’

  ‘How many attackers were there?’

  ‘One.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. I think so. I only saw one.’ She thought for a while, as if going through it all in her mind. ‘No, there was definitely only one.’

  ‘So after the attack on Kevin finished, what happened next?’

  ‘It all went very quiet. I thought he’d gone.’

  ‘Did you try and get out of the car again?’

  ‘I was about to when the door opened.’