Outside Looking In

by Michael Wood

  ‘I know, Sian. Lucas Branning works for a garage; get on to them and ask if they’ve had any BMW convertibles in recently. Check the reg number. If it’s a match to the one that ran Scott off the road then charge Branning with endangering lives, driving without due care and attention, assaulting a police officer and anything else you can think of.’

  ‘Will do. Oh, by the way, Colin has changed his mind about not wanting a solicitor present so we’ve had to request one as he doesn’t have one. There’ll be a bit of a delay on the interview.’

  ‘He’s doing this on purpose.’

  ‘Well he doesn’t have any cards left to play so he’s playing the “piss the police off” card. Very effectively too judging by the vein throbbing on your forehead.’

  Following a lengthy chat with DI Brady in which Matilda was told everything she needed to know about the aggravated burglaries, and a great deal of information she had no interest in, she found a note on her desk informing her the ACC needed to see her immediately. She had been waiting for this all morning.

  Valerie held up a copy of last night’s newspaper. Matilda winced as it brought back memories of what happened in her house with Ben Hales.

  ‘Neither of us come off well in this.’

  ‘I’m aware,’ Matilda said, head down, eyes fixed on the carpet.

  ‘I’ve spent most of the morning getting a dressing-down from the Chief Constable. I’ve been threatened with suspension.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘Fortunately, I know the editor on The Star and I was able to do a bit of a quid-pro-quo. Do you know who the source for the article is?’

  ‘No,’ she lied.

  ‘Former DI Ben Hales.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘He called up Alex Winstanley specifically with a red hot story about the unfit running of South Yorkshire Police. I’ve listened to a recording of the conversation. Fortunately, Alex isn’t a big fan of yours so he was only interested in the juicy bits about you. If he’d been a more qualified journalist this whole station would have been under the microscope.’

  ‘What else did Ben have to say?’

  ‘That’s not important. What is important is that Alex Winstanley is no longer working on The Star and the editor, God love him, is going to be running a retraction article in this evening’s edition.’

  Matilda visibly relaxed. ‘Well that’s good.’

  ‘Matilda, you don’t look at all surprised that Ben Hales double-crossed us like this.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m just tired,’ she said, struggling for an excuse. ‘To be honest, I’ve been half expecting something like this since he was forced out of the police. He’s not the type of person to walk away quietly.’

  ‘Did you hear he tried to kill himself last night?’

  ‘Yes. Adele told me.’

  ‘Remorse do you think; for what he’d said to Alex?’

  ‘I don’t think Ben Hales has much remorse.’

  ‘He’s made it through the night. I’ve got the doctor at the hospital going to call me as soon as he’s in a fit enough state to talk to. I’m going to be having a serious word with that man.’

  You’re not the only one.

  ‘So, fill me in on this Colin Theobald; is he responsible for the double shooting?’

  ‘It would appear so.’

  ‘And the burglaries?’

  ‘Again, it would appear so.’

  ‘Get him interviewed. Get him charged and get him out of here, Matilda. Do you understand? I know we’re getting a retraction in the local paper but I’d love for there to be a genuine good news story about the force in the not too distant future.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  FIFTY-ONE

  Matilda Darke and Christian Brady were to conduct the interview together. They spent almost half an hour in the CID suite going through who was going to lead and what direction they were going to take, but mostly it was to make Colin Theobald sweat just that little bit longer.

  The smell in interview room one was an assault on all the senses; the pine disinfectant coming from the floor, the stale odour of sweat coming from the interviewee, and the bitter tang of an expensive cologne that even Rory Fleming would refuse to wear emanating from the duty solicitor, Francis Evans.

  Evans was a tall imposing figure who had obviously been otherwise engaged when looks were being handed out. His eyes were too far apart and sunk deep into his skull. His large nose was almost a caricature, and he had the complexion of a man who enjoyed a drink or three in the evenings (and the mornings and afternoons). He sat behind the desk looking awkward; his lanky hulking frame too big for the chairs. When he held his hand out to shake it with the two detectives the sleeve of his jacket retracted up his arm, exposing a skeletal wrist.

  Faux pleasantries exchanged, formalities made for the benefit of the recording and video equipment, it was time to begin the interview. However, before Matilda could even open her mouth, the nasal tones of the solicitor, trying to sound like an Oxford graduate but with the definite twang of true Yorkshireman, cut through the atmosphere.

  ‘My client is considering taking legal action against South Yorkshire Police and you personally, Detective Chief Inspector Darke, for the injuries he sustained during his arrest.’

  Matilda did not look surprised. She had clocked the smug expression on Colin’s face as soon as she walked into the room. She knew the slimy solicitor would try this tactic. She sat back in her chair and folded her arms.

  ‘Well if that’s the road you want to go down Mr Evans, I’ll instruct Alice Hardaker, DC Faith Easter, and DS Sian Mills to do the same for the emotional distress they were put through at being held hostage at the hand of your client. They will all need counselling and therapists aren’t cheap. Mrs Hardaker will also be needing a new kitchen as the current one is stained with the blood of her dead sister – again at the hand of your client.’

  The smirk had left Colin’s face. He turned to his solicitor who gave the briefest of nods before turning back to face his interviewer.

  ‘Now,’ Matilda continued, ‘shall we stop pissing about and get down to the real reason why we’re all here?’

  Round one to the police.

  Francis Evans shifted uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat several times. He fingered the collar on his shirt and scratched at his neck where the tightness of the collar was interfering with his prominent Adam’s apple.

  ‘My client would like to make a confession,’ he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Now it was Colin’s turn to adjust himself in his seat. He looked tired after a sleepless night in hospital and then the cells in the bowels of South Yorkshire Police HQ. His eyes drooped and his skin was dry and pale. The designer stubble he usually sported was growing thicker and unkempt. It would be a long time before he could spend hours in front of the bathroom mirror carefully neatening his beard.

  ‘It’s about the burglaries,’ he began.

  ‘You’re going to have to speak up Colin, for the benefit of the recording equipment.’

  He coughed, the phlegm rattling around in his throat, which he swallowed. ‘The burglaries. I did them. I did them all.’

  Matilda and Christian exchanged glances. Matilda could almost see the relief on the DI’s face. He had been trying to solve this case for the best part of nine months. To get a confession, and so quickly, was music to his ears. There was even a hint of a smile.

  ‘We know,’ Christian said. He sat back. He was going to enjoy this. ‘From the snippets of description we’ve managed to obtain from each of your victims there was no doubt in my mind, the second I walked into the room, that you were the perpetrator. Not to mention the fact that at your last robbery you removed your hat and mask before getting into your car and were seen by a neighbour. However, thanks for your confession. You’ve saved me weeks of preparing a case for the CPS and trying to convince all your petrified victims to be witnesses. You’ve saved me a real nightmare of a task.’

  Round
two to the police.

  ‘I’d like to have a word with my client,’ Francis Evans said.

  Matilda smiled. ‘I think that’s probably wise.’ She terminated the interview and both she and Christian left the room. In the corridor they resisted a high-five.

  ‘You two look smug,’ Sian said as she walked towards Matilda and Christian.

  ‘We feel smug,’ she replied.

  ‘I’ve been onto the garage where Branning works. They have had a BMW 3 Series convertible in for the past few days and it matched the partial registration number Scott was able to supply us with.’

  ‘Excellent. Have you spoken to Branning yet?’

  ‘No. I’m going to do that now. Thought I’d give you some good news to cheer you up but you don’t look like you need it.’

  ‘Sian, the more good news the merrier. Just keep it coming.’

  Sian walked on but turned back and called out, ‘Oh, by the way, your lottery numbers came up at the weekend. Eight million.’

  ‘You know, I think I prefer a confession.’ She turned to Brady as Sian disappeared around a corner laughing to herself. ‘Oh God, how sad does that sound? I’d rather take the confession of a murderer over having eight million in the bank.’

  ‘You’ve been doing this job too long.’

  ‘You’re not kidding. Let’s go for a coffee.’

  ‘Are you treating me out of your winnings?’ Christian smiled.

  ‘I might even treat you to a bag of peanut M&Ms.’

  ‘The last of the big spenders.’

  Colin Theobald must have realized all hope was lost as when the interview resumed he could not talk fast enough. Matilda had heard plenty of statements and confessions in her time but what Colin told her made her blood run cold.

  ‘I shared a cell, years ago, with Lucas Branning. I can’t remember what he was in for, assault or something. I’d been caught robbing a paper shop in Doncaster and they got me for two more in Barnsley so I got a bit of a stretch that time. Anyway, me and Lucas got chatting, well, you do don’t you, and we hit it off. Both support United, like the same music, same favourite curry. We had a laugh. Lucas got out before me but we said we’d keep in touch. We did at first but you know how it is, you go your separate ways. Lucas was going straight, last I heard. Good on him. I tried that and couldn’t do it. I’m not one for routine, staying in the same place, settling down, getting a shit office job. It’d do my nut in.’

  While he had a captive audience, Colin was using his statement as an excuse for his actions over the years. Was this an attempt at getting a lighter sentence if he had mitigating circumstances?

  ‘Anyway, the years go by and suddenly I see Lucas again in the Penny Black. I thought it was just one of those things at first, you know, a coincidence. We had a few jars, a bit of a grin, a few games of pool, but by the end of the night he said he wanted a favour. He’d obviously been looking for me.

  ‘Now, you’ve seen Lucas, he’s not the tallest bloke in the world. He’s not a threat to anyone. Now me, well, I can scare the shit out of anyone if I have to. That’s what Lucas wanted me for. His sister’s husband had been cheating on her and Lucas wanted me to have a word with him. Well, more than a word really, he wanted me to put the frighteners on him, slap him about a bit. He said he’d pay me a grand. Well, I wasn’t going to turn that down was I?’

  It was at this point Colin stopped and asked if he could have a cup of tea. Confessing to murder, rape, and attempted murder was thirsty work. Grudgingly, Matilda acquiesced. The four of them sat in relative silence while waiting for the tea to arrive. Matilda tried to prompt him to continue but he wouldn’t. He was enjoying himself.

  When the tea arrived he made a show out of blowing on it to cool the orange liquid, and taking the first sip. He exaggerated a sigh and had another drink. Judging by the drumming of the fingers on the table, even Francis Evans was beginning to get pissed off.

  ‘Is that nice?’

  ‘Lovely. There’s nothing like a nice cup of tea is there?’

  ‘So, you were saying,’ Matilda pressed.

  ‘Oh yes. Where was I?’

  ‘Colin!’ Matilda warned, her face reddening.

  ‘All right.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t get your under-crackers in a knot. I’m just having a bit of fun with you. You want to lighten up, love. You’ll give yourself a stroke one of these days.’

  ‘I’ll lighten up when you’ve finished.’

  ‘All right then. So, Lucas offers me a grand to give his brother-in-law a few slaps and teach him a lesson. Easiest grand ever I thought. He said we’d meet up a few days later to go over the details, when and where, that kind of thing. A couple of days go by and I get a call from Lucas. We meet up in that park near the Children’s Hospital. He tells me his name, Kevin Hardaker, what kind of car he drives, where he works, and what he usually does after work. He gave me five hundred notes in an envelope and says he’ll give me the rest when it’s done. Fine by me.

  ‘Now, here comes the interesting part. Lucas left the park first. I’m just sitting there pretending to enjoy myself when this bloke comes up to me, all posh in a suit, and sits down on the bench next to me. He said he’s got a message from Alice Hardaker, Kevin’s wife, and she doesn’t want Lucas knowing about it. I’m to follow Kevin and wait until he picks up his fancy piece and jump them both. I’m to kill Kevin and have as much fun as I want with his tart but make sure she’s still alive at the end of it. And, get this, he’s going to give me ten fucking grand. Can you believe that?’

  Colin jumped back in his seat, excited at the prospect of having ten thousand pounds in cash to do with whatever he wanted. The joy on his face, the smile on his lips, the glint in his eyes – he was loving it.

  ‘He gave me a grand and Alice’s address and told me when’s it done, I’m to leave it a couple of days as the police’ll be round and then I’m to go and collect my money. So I’m sat there in the park with fifteen hundred quid in my pocket and I’ve done fuck all. This is mint.

  ‘I leave it a couple of days and I follow Kevin from work, watch his routine, and I see him pick up his tart. She’s not bad to look at; I’ve had better and I’ve had worse. On the third time of following they park up in this out of the way lane and I’m like “this is going to be so fucking easy” so I just went for it.’

  He leaned back as if that was the end of his story.

  ‘This man in the park, who was he?’ Matilda asked.

  ‘Fuck knows.’

  ‘Did he give you his name?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘A number to contact him on?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘An address?’

  ‘No. He just said that I was to collect my money from Alice and he gave me her address. I guessed that if there were any problems I could have gone to her.’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What do you mean you don’t know?’

  ‘Well he didn’t really look like anything really,’ he shrugged. ‘He was just a bloke. You know, brown hair, not tall, not short, not fat, not thin. He was just an ordinary bloke.’

  ‘Did he speak with an accent?’

  ‘Yes. Sheffield.’

  ‘Would you recognize him again if you saw him?’

  ‘Of course I would. I’m not senile. If someone offers you ten grand, you’ll know him again when you see him. It’s just that he looked plain, ordinary.’

  ‘Where did you get the gun from?’ Christian Brady asked.

  ‘I’ve got a mate.’

  ‘And his name?’

  ‘Oh no, I’m not dobbing him in.’

  ‘So you beat and shoot Kevin Hardaker,’ Matilda said. ‘That didn’t bother you?’

  ‘I was just doing my job.’

  ‘Beating, shooting and raping Lois Craven – that was just a job too was it?’

  Colin looked down at the table. The beaming pride of a job well done slipped away.

  ‘What’s the matter
Colin?’

  ‘Is that was she was called, Lois Craven?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘I didn’t know her name.’

  Matilda opened the folder in front of her and removed a photograph of a smiling Lois Craven. She held it up and leaned forward. ‘It makes it more real now you know her name and see what she looks like doesn’t it? Let me guess, you’re picturing it over and over again when you close your eyes aren’t you? You’re a burglar and you beat people up, but you’re not a rapist. You got carried away that night and you couldn’t help yourself. Afterwards, I bet you couldn’t even remember what you’d done. Then it came back to you. You’d forced a woman to have sex with you. You’ve raped an innocent woman.’

  Colin looked Matilda in the eyes, the tough exterior had crumbled. His shoulders were hunched. He looked like he was about to burst into tears. He turned away and Matilda placed the photo on the desk facing Colin. She wasn’t going to let him forget the face of the woman whose life he had ruined.

  ‘At first you told yourself it didn’t matter, you’re hardly likely to bump into her again. So you avoid the papers and the news on TV and you don’t know anything about her. You’re shocked that you’re capable of raping a woman but you tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that she was just an object. You can live with that, can’t you? But now you know her name. Lois Craven. She’s a person, a woman, a mother of three children. When you close your eyes at night now, you’ll see her for who she really is. I’m right aren’t I?’

  Colin looked up once more. His face was stained with tears. His granite face was soft and flushed. He was full of remorse. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Interview terminated 13.27,’ Matilda said. She turned off the recording equipment and left the room without looking back at Colin Theobald.

  FIFTY-TWO

  ‘Do you believe him?’ Christian Brady asked following Matilda into the Murder Room.

  ‘I’m not sure. If he was lying we’d find out eventually so it’s only buying himself more time.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Matilda looked pensive. She ignored the rest of the room, not that there was much going on to distract her, and went into her office. ‘I don’t know. I mean his description was certainly lacking in detail wasn’t it?’