Outside Looking In

by Michael Wood

  The source continued. ‘I have worked in various forces throughout my career but it’s here at South Yorkshire that has been the most eye-opening. I cannot believe such an emotionally fragile and unpredictable woman is in charge of such a prestigious team. The fault does not lie solely with DCI Darke. It goes much higher than that. Assistant Chief Constable Valerie Masterson appointed her and, to save face, has allowed her to get away with things any other officer would have been fired for.

  ‘In the interest of the public, and her fellow officers, DCI Darke should have done the decent thing and resigned her post as soon as the Carl Meagan case collapsed but she selfishly continued.’

  When DCI Darke returned to work four months ago, ACC Masterson said in a statement: ‘We all welcome back a hard-working and dedicated officer to South Yorkshire Police. DCI Darke is an exemplary detective who has led the Murder Investigation Team with diligence and passion. Everyone is looking forward to her continuing her successes.’

  ACC Masterson refused to comment on the health and well-being of individual officers and asked us not to run this article, believing it to be damaging to the force. However, in the interest of the people of South Yorkshire who put their lives and trust into the police officers under ACC Masterson and DCI Darke’s command, we believe the truth should be revealed.

  Our source called upon ACC Valerie Masterson and DCI Matilda Darke to resign with immediate effect before somebody tragically lost their life due to an unsound decision.

  Matilda didn’t go back to the station. She wanted to but the pressure of an oncoming panic attack forced her to drive straight home. She did briefly wonder how Christian Brady was going to get back to the station but she assumed someone would offer him a lift.

  By the time she arrived home on Millhouses Lane it was dark. She parked in the driveway, and upon getting out, she looked up at the house next door belonging to Sebastian and Jill Carmichael. It was in total darkness. There was an abandoned look about it. It would be a long time before someone lived here again.

  Matilda lowered her head and cursed herself for not knowing what had been going on behind the deep red front door. She should have seen the signs. She had worked domestic violence cases before; she had seen the effects of a battered housewife. Matilda wondered where Jill was right now and how she was feeling. Also, where was the baby? She tried to remember the poor mite’s name but couldn’t. She knew, deep down, that it wasn’t her fault, but something niggling in the back of her mind told her she had failed that entire family. Another stress to add to the ever-growing collection. It was a wonder her mind didn’t explode under all the pressure.

  She felt a chill as the stiff breeze picked up, and looked around her. The road was quiet, as it always was. Lights were on in people’s homes and life was continuing as normal. Normal. What a pointless and pathetic word. What was normal?

  The house directly opposite belonged to a large family. Matilda had no idea of their names but knew it was a man and woman and at least five children. Every time she saw them leaving the house as a family unit they seemed happy. The kids were always smiling and talking at that loud volume only children can get away with. The parents looked organized and pleased with their brood and their lives. A week ago, Matilda wouldn’t have given them a second thought, now, in the wake of what had happened with Jill Carmichael, she wondered whether their smiles and cheerful persona were a front to something sinister.

  She shook her head and chastised herself. Evil did not lie behind every closed door. Nor did evil drive a dark BMW; not that Matilda noticed the car parked a few feet from her own driveway.

  Matilda unlocked the front door and entered the house. She expected the alarm to start beeping but nothing happened. She stood in the spacious hallway surrounded by cold and darkness.

  The last thing Matilda did when she left the house was to set the alarm. It was something she never forgot to do. The code was the date of her wedding anniversary and it always made her smile when she typed it into the keypad. It was like having James keeping guard over the house while she was at work. So why didn’t it start beeping tonight? Had she forgotten to set it this morning? Was the alarm faulty?

  And why was it so cold? There was something wrong.

  Matilda walked slowly and carefully into the living room. There was nothing out of place here, apart from the stacks of boxes.

  There was a large screen door, which separated the living room and dining room. This had been an idea of James’s. When they had a party they could pull back the screen and create one large room. When it was just the two of them, the screen would close and the lounge would be a cosy, intimate place for the two of them to snuggle up on the sofa together in front of the fire. Unfortunately, they had never pulled the screen back for a party. James had never used his own beloved house to its full potential.

  She pulled open the screen just wide enough to slip through into the dining room. The temperature plunged. This is where the cold was coming from. The veiled curtains were swaying in the breeze; the door to the conservatory was open. She knew for a fact it was closed before she left the house this morning as she hadn’t used the conservatory for months.

  Sir Robert Walpole, Spencer Compton, Henry Pelham, Thomas Pelham-Holles, William Cavendish.

  Matilda didn’t mind the Prime Ministers making a return. It would appear that her house had been broken into. This would certainly count as a distressing situation. She needed something comforting to hold on to. She found herself tapping her fingers against her thumb, digging the nail hard against each finger.

  Thomas Pelham-Holles, John Stuart, George Grenville, Charles Wentworth, William Pitt the Elder.

  She made her way over to the entrance to the conservatory. There was very little light outside coming through the windows but she could make out the silhouette of the objects in what had been James’s favourite room; the sofas, the tables, the lamps.

  ‘Good evening, Matilda,’ came a voice from a shadow sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room.

  ‘Shit,’ Matilda said under her breath. She put both hands in her pockets, looking for her mobile phone. They were empty. She suddenly remembered her phone was still plugged into the dashboard of her car, charging the battery. Shit.

  Augustus Henry Fitzroy, Frederick North, Charles Wentworth, William Petty, William Bentinck.

  The voice was familiar but she couldn’t place it.

  Matilda found her voice. ‘Who are you? How did you get in?’ She looked around her for some kind of weapon, something to defend herself with. There was nothing. This was a dining room that was hardly ever used. It was decorated with enough furniture to stop it looking like an abandoned room: a table to seat eight, pictures on the wall, and an empty sideboard.

  ‘When you want something desperately enough you can do anything. By the way, I thought the story in tonight’s issue of The Star was shocking, completely unfair.’

  ‘I haven’t seen it,’ she frowned and leaned forward, trying to make out the thin frame of her intruder. He was too slight to be Colin Theobald. ‘Who are you?’ she asked again.

  ‘I’ve left a copy of the paper on the sideboard. I can wait while you read it.’

  Matilda didn’t like leaving a complete stranger alone in her house but she felt this was all part of his game. He wouldn’t make a move until she’d read the paper. She knew she should turn and run for the front door, go out into the street and scream for help at the top of her voice to anyone who would listen, but this was her home. This was James’s home. Matilda intended to protect it with her life.

  The local newspaper was open at page seven where an unflattering photo of her took up a large part of the page. She had spent the past few days wondering if her actions had led to Joseph Glass being attacked and Scott Andrews being driven off the road, and now the whole of Sheffield would be thinking the same.

  She didn’t read the article. She didn’t need to. She knew exactly what was being said about her and every word would be a knife
in the back. This would effectively end her career.

  ‘Isn’t it sad? The media can be bastards at times can’t they?’ The voice from the conservatory was dripping with sarcasm.

  Matilda closed her eyes. She knew exactly who the man was. ‘I know who you are.’

  The man laughed. ‘It took you longer than I thought it would but then I’m guessing you’ve not thought much about me in the last four months.’

  ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘This is silly trying to conduct a conversation through the walls. Come and join me. It’s a lovely room. It’s a shame James didn’t get much chance to use it.’

  The mention of James was like a slap. Matilda didn’t like anyone talking about her husband, especially those whom she despised. She turned the light on, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the brilliant white. She stepped into the conservatory and turned the light on there too.

  Former Detective Inspector Ben Hales was a shadow of the man she knew. Just four months ago he had been a tall, well-built man with a neat salt-and-pepper haircut. He had been overweight and solid and commanded a huge presence whenever he entered a room. Now he was thin, gaunt, and haggard. His eyes were drawn, his skin was dull, and his unruly hair was lifeless and completely grey.

  Matilda was taken aback. The transformation in just four months was shocking.

  DI Ben Hales had been Matilda’s replacement in leading the Murder Investigation Team while she was on her enforced sabbatical following James’s death and her handling of the Carl Meagan kidnapping.

  To say he had been annoyed at her return would be an understatement. He had tried everything in his power to make sure Matilda didn’t retake command but had failed at every turning. ACC Masterson believed in Matilda and made sure Ben knew his place.

  Ben had been craving a top position within the police force since he first put on the uniform. He thought the best way would be through nepotism and had married the daughter of a Chief Superintendent in the hope of ingratiating himself with the top brass. Unfortunately, the opposite happened, and Ben was constantly overlooked when it came to promotion. His one chance was when Matilda was absent. Those nine months were bliss for Ben and he had shone in her role. He had a one hundred per cent success rate and there was no way he was going to give it up so readily.

  However, the force of the ACC and the Teflon coating of Matilda Darke soon had him playing dirty tricks. They had backfired, and he found himself out of a job, his career and his future shattered, and his life practically over.

  ‘Did you do this?’ she asked, holding the newspaper aloft.

  He put his hand up like a child in a classroom and gave a sly, sneaky grin. ‘Guilty.’

  ‘You do realize you’ve killed my career.’

  ‘Have I? Oh no. I’m so sorry. That wasn’t my intention at all.’ He was thoroughly enjoying himself.

  ‘Why have you done this?’

  The sinister smile dropped. ‘Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you’ve no idea what you’ve done.’

  ‘Have you been following me too? Making phone calls?’

  He frowned. ‘I’ve called you a few times, yes. I’ve no need to follow you, I know exactly what you’ve been up to.’

  ‘What’s happened to you?’

  ‘This is what happens after four months of humiliation. This is four months of torture. I’ve been through hell since you got me sacked.’

  ‘No. Oh no, I’m not taking the blame for that. What happened to you was of your own making. I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t kidnap a leading witness. I didn’t threaten your wife with a knife. I didn’t conduct an illegal interview. Everything that happened was down to you and I won’t have you sitting there trying to make me feel guilty because of your own failings.’

  She turned and left the conservatory, taking large strides into the dining room. ‘I want you out of my house right now,’ she called out behind her.

  Ben Hales followed her. In the brightness of the hallway Matilda could see him more clearly. His clothes were hanging off him, his cheek bones were prominent. She almost felt sorry for him.

  ‘Go home to your wife, Ben,’ she said, her voice no longer angry.

  ‘Sara left me just after New Year. She took the girls and moved in with her dad.’

  ‘Oh. I had no idea, Ben. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry? No you’re not. If you even considered other people and their feelings I would still have a job and Carl Meagan would still be with his parents.’

  That was a blow to Matilda. He obviously knew her Achilles heel.

  ‘Ben, I want you to leave. Get on with your life and please don’t come back to my home ever again,’ she said firmly.

  She moved to the front door to open it when Ben’s right arm pushed the door from her grasp and slammed it closed.

  ‘Did you honestly think I was going to leave quietly?’

  Matilda was noticeably frightened, though she fought hard to hide it. ‘Ben, please—’

  ‘You have ruined my life. You took my career and you wiped your feet all over it. Do you think I’d just go home, take up golf, and get a part-time job as a night watchman? No. You’ve fucked up my entire life and I’m not going to let you continue as if nothing’s happened.’

  Ben had backed Matilda into a corner of the hallway. His eyes were wide and staring. Up close he looked wild and determined. His jaw was clenched and he was visibly shaking.

  Matilda raised her hands pleadingly. ‘Ben, whatever you’re considering doing I strongly advise against it. This is no way to go about things.’

  ‘I don’t care what happens to me. I’ve nothing left to lose; you’ve seen to that. If I’m going, I’m taking you with me.’

  Ben and Matilda were nose to nose. She could feel his warm breath on her face. Slowly, he raised his hands and aimed them at her throat.

  ‘Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to do this?’

  His knees almost buckled as he touched her bare skin; it was warm and soft against his chapped, gnarled fingers. He wrapped them around her throat. He felt the rapidly beating pulse in her neck, the contours of muscles and bone. The closer he stood the more he could smell his adversary: her perfume, her fear, her deodorant, her sweat. The enjoyment was evident on his face; the eyes brightened and a small smile crept along his thin lips. He gently applied pressure and watched as Matilda struggled to breathe. Her face turned red and she gasped as the life was slowly squeezed out of her.

  FORTY-FIVE

  ‘Thank God you’re here. I thought you’d have gone home by now,’ Faith Easter said as she barged into the Murder Room.

  ‘No. I was just about to though. What’s happened?’ Sian asked. She was tidying up her desk while waiting for her computer to shut down.

  ‘Nothing. You know what we forgot to do today?’

  ‘No. What?’

  ‘Go and see Alice Hardaker.’

  ‘Shit!’ Sian cursed herself. She prided herself on having a good memory. How could she have forgotten? She had even written it down on her notepad. She looked at her watch. ‘Well, it’s only seven o’clock now. We could pop along and see her if you’ve got time.’

  ‘Yes. I’ve no plans for tonight apart from a cat to feed and a pathetic ready meal. What about you? Won’t your husband be expecting you home?’

  ‘Stuart? No. There’s plenty of food and lager in the fridge. He’ll not even notice. We’ll go in my car and then I can drop you back off here on my way home.’

  ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘No. Come on. Let’s see if Alice will give us all the gory details on her family.’

  Alice Hardaker was in the kitchen preparing a meal for the children. She hadn’t left the house all day. She called her sister in the morning to ask if she would take the kids to school as she couldn’t face leaving the house, and she’d apologized profusely for her behaviour at finding out Jenny knew about her husband’s affairs.

  When Jenny returned to Broad Elms Lane just after 9.30 they sat down
with a mug of tea each and a large supply of biscuits and had a heart-to-heart lasting several hours. Jenny apologized for not telling her sister what Kevin was really like. Alice apologized for never trying to get on with Jenny’s husbands and they both apologized for putting men before each other.

  ‘At the end of the day we’re much better off on our own,’ Alice had said as she opened a second packet of Jammie Dodgers. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love Warren and Milly to bits and wouldn’t swap them for the world, but men are complete bastards. They’re ruled by what’s between their legs and listen to that before they listen to what’s up top,’ she said, tapping her head.

  ‘Well I’m perfectly happy with being single now,’ Jenny replied. ‘Men are only useful for having kids, and seeing as I can’t have any there’s no point in having a bloke is there?’

  Alice placed a comforting hand on Jenny’s knee. ‘I think it’s awful you can’t have children. You’d have made a great mum.’

  ‘I know I would,’ she smiled through the pain. ‘Still, I can be a great aunt to Warren and Milly instead.’

  ‘You are a great aunt. The kids love you.’

  ‘Look, if you need any help getting through all this with the funeral and everything I’m here for you. I’ll take the kids to school, I’ll pick them up again, and when you need time on your own I’ll take them to the park or the cinema.’

  Alice leaned forward on the sofa and pulled her sister into a hug. ‘Thank you, Jenny. I don’t deserve you.’

  ‘You know what we both deserve?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Some of that vanilla cheesecake you’ve got in the fridge.’

  Jenny came into the kitchen and closed the door behind her.

  ‘Warren’s done his homework and Milly’s finished learning her times table. They’re watching SpongeBob SquarePants now.’