by Michael Wood
‘Recovered?’
‘Yes. He was … you don’t know?’
‘No.’
‘I thought Matilda would’ve told you.’
‘Matilda just said he was involved in an incident. What’s happened?’
‘He was beaten up last night.’
‘What? Who by?’
Adele frowned as she thought. ‘I can’t remember who they said now, hang on. I think his name was Oliver something.’
‘Ridgeway?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Oliver Ridgeway beat up Scott? Why?’
‘I’ve no idea. Shit. Should I not have said anything?’
‘No. Don’t worry about it,’ Sian said, a heavy frown on her face. ‘I can’t believe Matilda would keep something like that from me. Thanks, Adele. I’ll see you later.’
Adele watched as Sian slowly made her way out of the autopsy suite. She went back into the office where Lucy was struggling with the easy open tab on a packet of biscuits.
‘What’s wrong?’ Lucy asked when she noticed Adele’s worried expression.
‘I think I might have just opened up a massive can of worms.’
‘How?’
‘I’m not sure. But Matilda was very cagey this morning and Chris didn’t say anything to me before he left for work. They’re keeping me in the dark about something.’
‘That’s not like Matilda. She tells you everything.’
‘Exactly. So what is she hiding from me?’
Chapter Fifty-One
Keith saw his chance of a lift at a row of dilapidated warehouses on the outskirts of Manchester city centre. An overweight man was struggling to load a rusty van, so Keith played the Good Samaritan and gave him a hand out of the goodness of his heart. They started chatting and Keith just happened to mention he was trying to get to Sheffield. The driver said he was heading to the east coast but could drop him as close as he could. An hour later, on the A628, Keith saw the sign for Barnsley. He asked the driver, Richard, to keep going rather than turn off. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to see his flat again.
It had been less than a week since Keith had been in his own home, but it felt much longer as he stood across the road from it, hidden behind a bus shelter. He gave a small smile; it was familiar, comforting, but there was a hint of sadness. If Matilda Darke didn’t believe him, she’d arrest him on sight and he’d spend the rest of his life in prison for three murders he didn’t commit. He would never see this flat again.
He dug in his pocket for the key, checked the coast was clear and nobody was watching, then hurried across the road. He quickly unlocked the door, squeezed in a small gap and slammed it closed behind him, securing it with the key and the bolts at the top and bottom of the door.
Several brown envelopes lay on the doormat. He kicked them to one side and headed up the stairs. He wanted a shower, a change of clothing, something to eat. Ideally, he wanted several days in bed to catch up on sleep.
The living room was cold. There was an opened packet of Bourbon biscuits on the coffee table. He shoved one in his mouth and picked up two more. They were soft but they were food. There was a horrible smell to the flat, a staleness. It wasn’t long before Keith realized it was him. He kicked off his battered shoes and stripped off his clothes as he made his way to the bedroom. As he looked at his thin, naked body in the full-length mirror he saw how dirty his skin was.
He stood under the shower and let the hot needles of water cascade down on him. The water ran brown in the bath as the dirt, grime and grease was washed out of his hair and body. He could feel himself becoming cleaner. As he scrubbed his knotted hair, digging his nails into his scalp he thought of the mess he had got himself into. How was it possible he could be accused of triple murder? It wouldn’t have happened if he’d stayed at school, concentrated and passed his exams instead of playing the class clown to get a laugh and impress Stephanie Wainwright. Not that it did. She was an optician now. He spotted her in a Specsavers in the centre of Barnsley a few months ago. She still had that trademark crooked smile that had won him over all those years ago. She had made something of herself. She wore a wedding ring, too. Part of him was happy for her. Another part was jealous. She had a good career, probably drove a good car, went home every evening to a man with an equally good career, maybe even a child or two. And there he was, Keith Lumb, nose pressed up against the optician window, living in a one-bedroom flat with rising damp, a tired second-hand sofa, and a temperamental fridge. He was a month behind with the rent, he didn’t have a TV licence and the council was threatening him with court proceedings if he didn’t pay his council tax by the first of next month. What would Stephanie Wainwright see in him now?
The water ran cold, bringing Keith out of his daydream. He stepped out of the bath, wrapped a thin towel around his waist and went into the bedroom. He flopped down on the single bed with a heavy sigh. Yes, he was only twenty-seven. It wasn’t impossible for him to turn his life around and make something of himself. He could go to college and take his GCSEs, maybe a couple of A levels. By the time he was thirty he could have enough qualifications to get a job in an office, a bank maybe. While working, and saving, he could go to night school, learn something else, maybe start up his own business. He and Elizabeth could go into business together. A family firm.
A warm smile spread across his lips. He stole a glance at himself in the mirror and all he saw was a condemned man looking back at him. He was not a killer, but the police thought he was.
‘I don’t like this, Matilda,’ Valerie Masterson said. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. Her lips were pursed.
‘We don’t have any other option. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to talk to Keith Lumb.’
‘So you’re going to go to his sister’s house, sit down with the two of them, have a cosy little chat, then walk away at the end of it?’
She shook her head. ‘No. It all depends on what I hear. If I’m convinced of his guilt then I’ll arrest him.’
‘You have bloodstained clothing found at the scene of the crime. You have his fingerprints and a hair under the nail of one of his victims. The forensics say it’s him.’
‘Yes, but common sense doesn’t.’
‘You’re losing me, Mat.’
‘Keith Lumb is a petty criminal. He’s a burglar, and not a very good one. You don’t go from breaking into someone’s home to murdering three people.’
‘He broke into the Mercers’ home. Maybe it was a burglary gone wrong.’
‘No. The violence inflicted on Clive, Serena and Jeremy does not equate to a burglary gone wrong. If that had been the case, they would have been hit on the head or, if they had been stabbed, it would have been once to incapacitate them. These murders were savage. They were personal,’ Matilda said, getting herself worked up. ‘I mean, for crying out loud, Clive was practically decapitated. Someone wanted to destroy him.’
Valerie remained silent while she thought. ‘Fine. Go for your chat. But I want you wired.’
‘No,’ she said with defiance. ‘I need Keith to trust me.’
Valerie took a deep breath. ‘Then I want an armed response team on standby.’
‘No. Keith does not pose any threat.’
‘You seem very sure.’
‘I am. It’s him that’s requested I meet him. It’s him that wants to tell his side of the story. If he was guilty, he wouldn’t do that.’
‘I am not having you walk into that house without any form of protection. It could be a massacre,’ she almost shouted.
Matilda sighed. ‘All Keith wants is to explain his innocence. From his point of view he did not commit these murders and he wants to convince me of that.’
‘And what if he can’t convince you? Do you honestly think he is going to let you arrest him? He was tracked in Maidstone. He was obviously trying to escape the country. He’s hardly going to let you put the cuffs on him and walk calmly out of the house. He will try to run again and if you, or his
sister, get in the way, he will strike.’
‘I don’t believe he will.’
‘You’re willing to risk your life?’
‘My life isn’t in any danger.’
‘I’m guessing Tina Law thought that too.’ Matilda looked up at her, mouth agape. ‘DI Eckhart had DS Jonson tell me all about her. It’s only been a couple of months since we lost DC Faith Easter. I do not want another of my officers killed in the line of duty.’
‘I won’t be,’ she said, sounding less convincing.
‘I’ll need you to sign something.’
‘What?’ Matilda frowned.
‘I’m in the shit over this, Matilda. I’ve got the chief constable breathing down my neck and if this all goes tits up, I’m out on my ear. Now, I’m willing for you to interview Keith Lumb, but I want you wired and I want you guarded. If you’re going to go against my orders, I want it on paper you’re doing this off your own bat. Is that understood?’
Matilda looked aghast. ‘You’re hanging me out to dry?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry, Matilda, but this is how it’s going to be. It’s my way, or you’re on your own.’
‘You don’t trust me?’
‘I don’t trust your judgement. Not in this case.’
The silence between them was heavy. Matilda stood up and walked slowly out of the office. She had brought nothing but good results for Valerie over the years. Since a police officer had been unmasked as a killer last year, everything had changed, and the fault seemed to lie with Matilda. Was it her fault Barnsley had allowed Keith Lumb to escape? Was it her fault he had gone on to massacre three people? Was it her fault he hadn’t been caught yet? Evidently so.
This changes everything.
Chapter Fifty-Two
‘How are you getting on?’ Rory asked TDC Finn Cotton.
The new member of the team was by the drinks station. The kettle was boiling and the young DC was rubbing at the back of his neck and stifling a yawn.
‘Fine thanks,’ he said, trying to smile through the pain.
‘You sure?’
‘Yes. I’ve just been staring at the computer screen for too long. I think I’m going slowly mad.’
‘What are you working on?’
‘I’m going through all the photos the wedding guests have sent in to us. I’m trying to identify everyone and work out if there is someone there who shouldn’t be.’
‘You’ve been given a very glamorous job,’ Rory laughed, patting him on the back.
‘I know. Whoever said a specialized team was all car chases and shoot-outs obviously never visits Sheffield. Do you want a drink?’
‘No. I’m fine, thanks. Have you spotted someone you can’t identify?’
‘Yes. A few actually,’ Finn said, picking up his coffee and heading back to his desk. ‘There are a couple of men who I have no idea who they are but they crop up a few times. They’re in the group photos too, so I’m guessing they were meant to be there but haven’t come forward yet. I’ve been speaking to Ranjeet and he said there are still a couple from the guest list outstanding. However, there’s one woman who appears only once.’
‘Let’s have a look.’
Finn placed his mug down on the desk and rifled through the mess of photographs. ‘I printed the ones off who I couldn’t identify. She’s among these somewhere. Yes. Here she is.’ He handed Rory the photo. The main shot was of the happy bride and groom dancing. In the background was Serena Mercer having what appeared to be a heavy conversation with a woman in a long black jacket and black trousers.
‘The photo was taken fairly early into the evening. Obviously, that’s Serena. The woman behind her with the plate of food is a Veronica Miles. I don’t know who the woman in black is.’
‘I do.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. That’s Elizabeth Lumb. She told us she didn’t go to the wedding. Do you mind if I keep this?’ Rory asked, heading for the door.
‘No problem. Do I still need to go through all these?’
‘Definitely,’ he called back. ‘Oh, can you make a blown-up version of that picture and send it to my phone?’
‘Sure.’
Finn let out a sigh and took a sip of his strong coffee. ‘I’m beginning to wish I was marshalling a Sheffield United match.’
‘Can I ask a huge favour?’ Leah asked Aaron as he led her to her car in the car park.
‘Of course.’
‘Will you come with me to my parents’ house? I’ve been told that it’s now my responsibility as I’m next of kin. I’m going to have to get one of those specialized cleaning teams in, but I don’t want to go inside on my own. Not when it’s like it is.’
Aaron looked up at the police station. He had so much work on at the moment. He didn’t have time to hold Leah’s hand. However, when he looked at her, he saw the pain and horror in her eyes. Her entire life had fallen apart.
‘Sure. I’ll come with you.’
Her face lit up. ‘That’s wonderful. Thank you.’
The twenty-minute drive was conducted in silence. Aaron didn’t know what to say, and Leah spent the time looking out of the window, watching a freezing cold Sheffield blur by. Aaron pulled up on the driveway and turned off the engine.
‘It’s a lovely house,’ he said.
‘Yes. I remember Mum telling me that when she was a child she always dreamed of living in a place like this. She felt lucky, blessed. That’s why she did so much charity work to help those less fortunate. She’d had a bad start in life and made something of herself. She wanted to give others a chance too.’
‘Shall we?’ Aaron asked, making to get out of the car.
Leah swallowed hard and nodded.
They walked slowly to the front door. Leah held her coat firmly to her chest with folded arms. She looked nervous, petrified of what she was going to find once inside.
Aaron put the key in the lock, but Leah reached up to stop him from opening the door.
‘Mum always said to me and Jeremy not to take things for granted; to appreciate what we have, look after it. Wise words, don’t you think?’
‘Absolutely.’ Aaron smiled. ‘Your mother seemed like a wonderful woman.’
‘Oh she was. I wanted to be just like her. I always felt I let her down, though.’
‘Why?’
‘Because of my illness. I’d have dark days. Sometimes it was an effort to get out of bed. I missed out on a lot of opportunities.’
‘Have you always suffered with depression?’
She nodded. ‘Since I was a child. Dad used to say I’d grow out of it. I believed him.’
‘Were your parents supportive?’
‘Mum was.’
‘Not your dad?’
‘He didn’t understand mental health issues.’
A strong wind blew and they both shivered.
‘We should go inside,’ Aaron said.
Reluctantly, Leah agreed.
Aaron turned the key and pushed the door open. It struggled due to the amount of post blocking the way. They stepped inside and Aaron closed the door behind them. Standing in the hallway, it seemed as if nothing was amiss. The broken hall table had been removed and there was a staleness about the air, but it looked like an ordinary house.
From the hallway, Aaron looked straight into the kitchen. On the central island, the detritus from the wedding reception was laid out. Flies were buzzing around unwrapped food.
Aaron stepped forward first. He hadn’t been in the house when it was an active crime scene, but he’d seen the photographs. He knew where Jeremy Mercer had been found: at the bottom of the stairs, slumped against the wall. He approached the stairs, turned, and looked at the aftermath of the massacre. His heart sank.
‘How bad is it?’ Leah asked from the door.
‘Just tell yourself they’re at peace now,’ Aaron struggled to think of something reassuring to say.
Leah held out her hand. Aaron took it. She squeezed hard and approached the stairs. She turned, s
aw the blood and immediately collapsed. Aaron caught her.
‘It’s all right. I’ve got you.’ He held her firmly against him.
‘Is that where my brother—?’ she couldn’t finish through the tears.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh my God. Poor Jeremy.’
Leah held onto Aaron tightly. She looked up and saw his kind face staring down at her.
‘Thank you for being here with me, I couldn’t have done this on my own,’ she said through her tears.
‘That’s all right.’ He smiled.
Leah stretched up on tip-toes and kissed Aaron on the lips.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Scott was in the canteen. He felt sick and wasn’t hungry, but it was going to be a long night so felt he had to eat something. On a plate in front of him was a pile of chips, a slice of cheese and onion quiche and a mound of mixed vegetables. It looked like it had been sitting under a heat lamp for several hours and tasted bland. However, it was fuel, and that was all that mattered. As he stabbed at the soggy chips and struggled to chew, he looked up and saw Rory heading towards him. His heart sank.
Rory pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. He had the steely look of determination in his eyes.
‘What’s going on?’ Rory asked.
‘Nothing. Why?’
‘You’ve been avoiding me all day.’
‘I’ve been busy.’
‘What happened last night?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Then why didn’t you come home?’
‘I stayed out.’
‘I guessed that. Matilda said you were involved in an incident. Sian said that Adele told her you’d been beaten up. What’s going on?’
‘Nothing.’ He gave up on the food and pushed his plate away. ‘I was on my way to see Chris, for a run, and I was set upon. A chance mugging, probably. As I was closer to Chris’s than ours I went straight to his. Matilda was there and I ended up staying over,’ he said without making eye contact.
‘You’re lying,’ Rory said firmly.
‘Why would I lie?’
‘I’ve no idea. Look, Scott, come on, we’re colleagues, we share a flat together, we’re mates. You can tell me anything.’
