Perfect Intentions: Sometimes justice is above the law

by Leona Turner

“You surely don’t expect me to volunteer the information to anyone else? This is our investigation. I want to see if you’ve learnt anything from me these last few months.”

  Holt sat staring at her.

  “I’m not patronising you for the sake of it; I believe we can all take something from this experience. Whether they allow it or not is inconsequential to me in the long term. I fear Mrs Matthews and the delightful press might think otherwise, however.”

  As she finished speaking, police and ambulance crew burst into the office. Quickly the paramedics rushed to Henson and removed him. The PCs waited for Holt to acknowledge them. Holt, still stunned, turned to face Loretta.

  “Loretta Armstrong, I am arresting you for the murders of Simon Reeves, Matt Reynolds, Jon Hamilton, and Richard Abbott, for the abduction of Dean Matthews, and for assaulting a police officer”

  Holt turned to face PC Bannerman.

  “Read her her rights and get her to the station."

  Holt turned and left, leaving a confused PC Bannerman to deal with Loretta.

  Holt found himself back at his car, and opening the door he got inside. Sitting there, he contemplated what had just happened. In his rear view mirror, he watched as his one-time ally was shepherded into the back of a squad car. He felt almost lightheaded as he put the key in the ignition. Following the squad car out of the car park, he proceeded back to the station.

  At the station, Holt went to the interview room where Loretta was waiting.

  “Hello again, Jimmy.” Loretta’s voice had become warm once more, and this irritated Holt.

  “My name is Inspector Holt.” Holt kept his voice flat.

  Holt was aware she was mocking him, but he ignored it. Holt felt exhausted, even though he’d heard that Henson was going to be ok. He now knew, sitting in the same room as the local serial killer and his once close friend that he didn’t think he could deal with the upcoming interview and interrogation.

  “Where is Dean?”

  “He‘s safe. So tell me, Inspector Holt, have you missed me?”

  Holt was caught off guard by the question. He decided to be honest, hoping that this would please her enough that she would let him know where Dean was.

  “Yes, I did.” Holt had his elbow on the table with his hand supporting his head.

  “You are still shocked, aren’t you? That a woman could have done this.”

  Holt forced his face up to meet her gaze.

  “To be honest, yes.”

  “Well, I have no sympathy for you, then.”

  Holt was confused by the statement, but decided to leave it and try another line of questioning.

  “Why the mask?”

  “We all wear masks every day of our lives, we pretend to be different people to different people. Why do we do that?”

  Holt was becoming frustrated; he wasn’t sure he was capable of getting a straight answer out of her, and exhaling loudly, he sat back in his chair

  “Do you think you could give the pop psychology a rest for a bit? You know you can help yourself—you can tell me where Dean is.” Holt quietly hoped that the directness of the question might elicit a useful response.

  “Tell you? Why would I tell you? It’s up to you to work it out; believe it or not, you are capable. Think about it.”

  Holt sat thinking for a minute, the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He had to force his mind to calm down enough for logical thought to return.

  What did he know about Dean? He was young and reckless, not averse to mixing with the less acceptable side of society, but still living at home with a mother and younger sister. He was only nineteen and had a hot temper, not helped by binge drinking and occasional drug use. For all intents and purposes, he was a CHAV.

  “He’s a CHAV.”

  Completely ignoring the statement, Loretta looked up at Holt.

  “Do you know what I do? I help people—I protect them from themselves. True, recently I have become a little more hands-on in my approach to therapy, but the results are undeniable.”

  “What? Butchered bodies littering the landscape—that’s your idea of good therapy, is it?”

  “You aren’t listening to me, Inspector. Maybe you should go and find Dean.” Loretta’s voice was friendly, almost advisory.

  Holt got up and left the room. It was the first time in his career he had been dismissed by a serial killer.

  PC Bannerman was waiting as Holt left the interview room.

  “So where should we start searching?”

  Holt thought back to his previous meetings with Loretta.

  “Bannerman, do you know what CHAV means?”

  “CHAV? Trouble, as far as I’m concerned”

  “But does it mean anything? A shortening of something?”

  “Well, the word CHAV is an acronym.”

  “What for?”

  “Council Houses And Violence.”

  “Council houses? But Dean doesn’t live in a council house, but maybe that’s not the point.” The last part was spoken quietly, as if underlining the point to himself. Suddenly Holt’s gaze snapped up to meet PC Bannerman’s eyes.

  “Bannerman, what’s the biggest council house or building you can think of?”

  “Well, the council offices, obviously, but they haven’t even laid the foundations for them yet.”

  “Maybe somebody’s already started with our Mr Matthews. Notify the ambulance crew and let’s get over there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Just over an hour later, Dean had been discovered in a porta-loo on the council offices building site. The relief of finding him had had a noticeable effect on the mood of the entire police force. The ambulance crew had checked him over and he seemed fine, although still a little groggy from the effects of the anaesthetic that had been administered, the packaging for which had been found, quite helpfully, with him. Holt decided to go with Dean to the hospital, and as Holt got into the back of the ambulance, he turned briefly to PC Bannerman.

  “Could you go and pick Mrs Matthews up and bring her to the hospital, please?”

  “Of course, sir.” Bannerman’s face split into a wide smile; the relief of going to tell a relative good news for a change was evident.

  In the ambulance, Dean was drifting in and out of consciousness; clearly the strain of the last four days had taken effect. From what Holt could make out, after the initial anaesthetic had been given, Dean had found himself awake a little later with no idea of what time it was, as it was dark. Dean had started to panic. In that moment of panic, Dean had felt something knock against his leg, and he realised water had been left for him. He hadn’t wanted to drink it, but given his circumstances, he hadn’t had much choice. After that, Dean had drifted in and out of consciousness until the police had found him. The water bottle was coming to the hospital with them for analysis; Holt wasn’t sure exactly what they’d find, but if it turned out the water had been laced with sleeping tablets, he wouldn’t be surprised.

  Just over a mile away on the other side of town, a squad car pulled up outside Lauren Matthews house. PC Bannerman got out of the car and replaced his hat. Looking across at WPC Wright, he smiled.

  “I never thought I would going to be giving good news to Mrs Matthews.”

  “I know, it is a bit unreal, isn’t it? I can’t believe we caught her. Finally I can get a proper night’s sleep.”

  Walking up to the front door, Bannerman took a deep breath and knocked. After a few moments the door swung open. Mrs Matthews’s face was drained of colour and the look in her eyes told them they were the last people she wanted to see.

  “Have you found him? Is he dead?”

  She was so consumed by her own terror that she had failed to notice that both the officers were smiling.

  “No, Mrs Matthews, far from it. We’ve come to take you to him, he’s at the hospital.’

  “Hospital? Oh my God, what happened to him?”

  “As far as we can tell, nothing; he’s in one piece.”

  �
��Oh thank God, thank God.” She broke down into sobs and WPC Wright took her by the arm and led her to the car. As Wright opened the door for Lauren, Alice came running up the street, a look of confusion and fear on her face as she saw her distraught mother being helped into the back of a squad car. Seeing this, Bannerman moved quickly.

  “It’s ok, love, your brother’s been found alive and well, and we’re just taking your mum to see him now—do you want to come, too?”

  Nodding at Bannerman, she followed her mum into the back of the car. Bannerman pulled the Matthews’ front door closed, making sure the latch had dropped, and he went to join the crowd now waiting patiently in the car.

  At the hospital Holt waited at Dean’s beside until Bannerman and Wright arrived with the Matthews family. Lauren Matthews practically ran the length of the ward to her son; she barely noticed Holt sitting on the other side of the bed. Eventually she looked up.

  “So you’ve caught him, then?”

  “Yes. The killer has indeed been apprehended.”

  Lauren sat for a moment, digesting all that had happened in the last few days. Holt got up to leave, and as he did, Lauren caught his eye.

  “Thank you.”

  The words had barely been a whisper, and Holt felt his demeanour starting to crumble. He nodded at Lauren and left the ward.

  Chapter 37

  Three months—almost to the day—after the apprehension of Loretta Armstrong, the serial murderer, was found guilty on all counts. A cheer had resounded in the courtroom as the verdict was read out, and as Holt had walked into the police station following it, everyone had taken a turn congratulating him. But despite everyone else’s obvious happiness at the verdict, Holt still didn’t feel right. Something still didn’t fit, and he couldn’t work out what it could possibly be. He had spent the last three months continually returning to the case, trying to piece together where his doubts were coming from.

  Holt walked into his office and sat back down at his desk. No sooner had he done this than there was a knock at the door.

  “Yes?”

  Henson, who had recently come back to work following his incident with Loretta, stuck his head round the door, grinning wildly.

  “We did it, sir, we got her.”

  “Yes, we did.” Holt’s voice was low and flat.

  Henson walked in and took a seat.

  “Aren’t you happy?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am, but it’s just…I don’t know, there still seem to be a few things that don’t quite fit.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, like when Jon Hamilton went missing, I was at Loretta’s apartment.”

  “Obviously she went out after you’d left.”

  “Maybe, but why would a woman in her fifties with an exceptional career record suddenly decide to throw it all away? Why wait until now? We now know that what Simon Reeves did thirty years ago must’ve been the trigger as he was the first victim. But why wait until now to get even when she had so much to lose?”

  Henson shifted uneasily in his seat.

  Holt’s mind went back to the day they had found out Simon Reeves’s identity. A message had been left on Holt’s voicemail from Hannah Simpson, who had received his message about questions relating to the assault on herself and Clare Heathers. She had been the one to inform them of the involvement between Clare and Loretta.

  “Henson, how would you describe the death of Simon Reeves?”

  “Well, calculated, ferocious… I don’t know sir, what do you want me to say?”

  “Ferocious—doesn’t that suggest something to you? That whomever was responsible had a lot of anger? And how likely is it that you’d carry that anger with you for thirty years? You couldn’t; it would destroy you. You wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything, much less build a career on trying to help people similar to the person who wronged you. But then how did she know? Sue had no sisters, cousins maybe…maybe a friend…?”

  Henshaw was confused, he was fairly sure he was no longer required for the conversation

  “What do you mean?”

  “Often people charged with domestic abuse are asked to seek anger management. Loretta will have seen hundreds of cases throughout her professional career. Is that the behaviour of someone who hates abusers and thinks they’re all damned? No, she was trying to protect women from ending up in the same position.”

  “The same position sir?”

  “Yes, the same position as Sue…”

  Henson looked concerned.

  “Maybe you should take a few weeks’ holiday, sir, get out of the country and just relax. I think you’re thinking on this too much. I mean, we’ve got her, sir, she’s confessed, case closed.”

  Holt looked up at Henson.

  “Perhaps you’re right. Well, I’m going to call it a night anyway.”

  Holt got up, smiling at Henson, and removed his jacket from the back of his chair. As he opened the door for Henson, he wondered briefly if what he was about to do was a good idea.

  Chapter 38

  Lauren Matthews was making the tea; since Dean had come home, he had been a different person. It was almost as if he’d gone from childhood to adulthood in the space of the four days he’d been missing. He had gone straight back to work as soon as he could, and he was actively enjoying it. Even Mark had noticed a difference in him. Mark was now a regular caller at the house; the shock of Dean’s disappearance and subsequent reappearance had seemed to have had a profound effect on him, as well. He had his own flat now and was doing an apprenticeship at another garage. Lauren was pleased to see him these days, which was proof in itself as to how much he had changed. She was busy making a lasagne for dinner and had just finished sprinkling cheese on top of it when the doorbell rang. Wiping her hands quickly on a tea towel, she went to answer the door. A small, well-dressed woman was waiting for her.

  “Mrs Matthews?”

  Lauren nodded.

  “I’m Joanne Hamilton, may I have a minute of your time?”

  Lauren nodded and beckoned her inside. Joanne followed Lauren through into the kitchen, and noticing the freshly made lasagne she nodded toward it.

  “That looks nice.”

  Lauren, unsure as to what this woman might want, smiled.

  “Thanks, though I‘m not sure if it’ll taste any good. Would you like a cup of tea? I was just going to have one myself.”

  “That’d be lovely. Thank you.”

  Joanne felt comfortable around this woman; she hadn’t been too sure how she’d be received. But in all the years of Dean’s life, Lauren had never intruded on Joanne’s family life or demanded anything from Jon. Knowing what she knew now, she was not sure she would have been so understanding in Lauren’s position. Joanne sat down at the table as Lauren strained the tea and placed a cup in front of Joanne. Lauren joined her at the table.

  “I’m sure there are things you want to ask me, and I’ll try to answer them as well as I can.”

  Joanne looked shocked at this.

  “No, I have no questions. I know what my late husband was like, and I know that you ended up being discarded like I was. I would never have any quarrel with you. In your case, I was the other woman.” Joanne was smiling at the end of the sentence. Lauren appreciated the fact that she was trying to make light of Jon’s many indiscretions and returned the smile.

  “When will Dean be back? I’d like to speak to you both together if possible.”

  As if in answer to the question, the front door slammed open and two men could be heard making their way to the kitchen. Dean burst into the kitchen, followed by Mark. Joanne was taken aback by how like his father he was; she hadn’t noticed it before, or maybe she had and just hadn’t acknowledged it.

  “All right, Mum?” Dean was grinning, and then he noticed she wasn’t alone. He recognised Joanne and his manner changed.

  “Hello, Mrs Hamilton.”

  “Would you two like a cup of tea?” Lauren got up and put the kettle back on. Mark followed Lauren ov
er to the kettle.

  “Yes, please, Mrs Matthews.”

  “I’ve told you, you can call me Lauren.” Lauren’s voice had a chastising quality and Mark seemed to redden around the ears a little. He recomposed himself quickly.

  “What’s that I smell?”

  “Lasagne—that ok with you?”

  “Fantastic.”

  Mark grabbed the mugs from the cupboard and stayed next to Lauren while she made the tea.

  Dean, who was still shocked to see Joanne in his house, sat down at the table. Joanne, noting his confusion, was first to speak.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here?”

  “Well, yes, if I’m being honest.”

  “I’ve come to tell you that I’ve decided to get rid of the garage, and I wanted to tell you in person.”

  Dean looked crestfallen.

  “Can I ask why? I mean, I’m no expert, but I thought it had been doing great business.”

  Joanne opened her handbag and pulled out some papers.

  “It has. Which is a good reason to pass it on now; nobody wants a failing business.”

  “Do you have a prospective buyer yet? Are they keeping any of us on?”

  “Well, that’s entirely up to him—and her, for that matter.”

  “Do I know them?”

  “Well, I’m looking at them right now.”

  Dean’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Me?”

  “And your mother, yes.”

  Lauren, who had only been half listening to what was being said, spun round.

  Dean wasn’t sure if he understood properly.

  “Is this a wind-up?”

  “Well, here are the deeds—what do you think?”

  Dean scanned the pages; she was serious. Still in shock, he passed them to his mother.

  Lauren looked over the papers and then stood staring in shock at Joanne.

  “I’m stunned. I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me; you deserve it. Jon could never provide stability, but maybe this will. Anyway, I suppose I better be going. Thanks for the tea.”

  Joanne closed her bag and got up. Dean shot a quick look at his mum, who seemed to have already anticipated this and spoke up quickly.