by Michael Wood
Matilda filled Adele in over a strong coffee and a packet of Jammie Dodgers.
‘I know Starling House has always been shrouded in secrecy but I never expected abuse and bullying,’ Adele said. ‘I bet Val’s kicked off, hasn’t she?’
‘She certainly has. Once this gets out she’s going to be in serious trouble for allowing it to go unnoticed all this time. I doubt she’ll be here by Christmas.’
‘That’s not fair. I like Val. She’s been a good ACC.’
‘She’s put up with a lot from me. Anyone else and I’d have been out when I screwed up the Carl Meagan case.’
‘Look, if you can solve the murder case and get Thomas Hartley out then that’ll go for you and for Val. Imagine the story when it’s revealed there was an innocent man sentenced to a crime he didn’t commit, and you, and Valerie, against all the odds, managed to get him released.’
‘That’s all hit the fan too. Val found out I was looking into the Hartley case and warned me off. She doesn’t want an argument between forces.’
‘But if he’s innocent … ’
‘“If” is the right word. There’s only me who thinks so and I don’t have proof.’
‘Then get proof.’
‘How, when I’m not allowed anywhere near the bloody case?’
‘Since when has that stopped you?’
‘Adele, I’ve let Thomas Hartley distract me from what I’m supposed to be doing. If I hadn’t then Callum fucking Nixon would not have beaten Rory half to death.’
‘You don’t know that. For Christ’s sake, Matilda, you can’t be responsible for everything that happens in that station. Rory is a grown man. He knew he was alone with a double killer. He made that decision. Not you. Now, I’m sorry he’s been hurt and I really hope he makes a full recovery, but I’m not going to sit here while you go all maudlin again over something out of your control.’
‘I’m not being maudlin,’ she said.
‘Yes, you are. You’re feeling sorry for yourself. I love you to pieces, Matilda, you know that, but you need to stop this. Look at me,’ Matilda continued to look into her empty coffee cup. ‘I said, look at me.’
Reluctantly, Matilda looked up. Her eyes were full of tears. There were white lines down her face and dark circles around her eyes. She looked as if she had aged ten years since entering the mortuary.
‘First of all, you look like shit.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome. Secondly, stop whining and do something.’
‘What?’
‘Well, for a start you can listen to my report on Jacob Brown seeing as nobody could be bothered to turn up for the post-mortem this morning like you said they would. Then, after that, you and I are going to have something to eat—’
‘I couldn’t stomach anything.’
‘Well, I could and you’re bloody going to eat for a change. Then, I’m going to phone Pat Campbell and all three of us are going to Manchester to find out who killed Thomas Hartley’s sodding family.’
‘That’s not going to happen. I could lose my job.’
‘Do you think, hand on heart, that Thomas Hartley is innocent?’
‘Yes,’ Matilda replied quietly.
‘You hesitated. Are you sure?’
‘I’m not sure about anything anymore, Adele.’
‘Jesus. OK, I know you’re not going to rest until you know the truth, one way or another, are you?’
‘No.’
‘Well then; if you’re going to lose your job, wouldn’t you rather lose it knowing you’ve done everything in your power to free a potentially innocent man?’
‘Yes.’
‘There you go then.’ Adele handed Matilda a box of tissues. ‘Now dry your eyes, and blow your nose.’
‘Jacob Brown did not die from hanging,’ Adele began. She was now sitting at her desk with a fresh cup of coffee, and a file balanced on her lap. ‘He was strangled first with a different kind of rope before being hanged. It was obviously made to look like suicide but it was so sloppy a boy scout could have noticed.’
‘Maybe it was rushed,’ Matilda said. She too had a fresh cup of coffee. She also had a balled-up tissue in her hand which she kept dabbing at her nose.
‘I think it was. He was strangled from behind. The rope was thrown over his head and around his neck. There is evidence under Jacob’s fingernails that he tried to grab the rope. There’s fibres and skin cells under his nails.’
‘His own skin?’
‘Yes.’
‘How can you tell he was strangled from behind?’
‘Because of the direction of the indentations in his neck from his own nails. He seemed to put up a struggle too as there are plenty of burn marks and abrasions around the front of his neck caused by the rope.’
‘Jacob wasn’t a short lad so are we looking for someone taller than him?’
‘Not necessarily. If you look at his clothing, the knees on his trousers were badly stained with mud and they were torn. All the killer needed to do was surprise him from behind, maybe a swift kick to the back of the knees to bring him down then go at him with the rope.’
‘But, if the killer strangled him, why not just leave him on the floor of the woods? If you’re not going to hide the body, why make it look like suicide when it was an obvious murder?’
‘To be honest, Matilda, I have no idea. You said yourself it looked staged. The first murder looked staged. This is obviously the way the killer likes to communicate – by showing off his crimes.’
Thinking aloud, Matilda said: ‘So we have a killer who doesn’t care how his victims die, it’s how they look to others. Ryan looked like he was laid out in a coffin, and Jacob looked like he was hanging from the gallows. We have a killer who is celebrating their deaths.’
FIFTY-EIGHT
‘Am I going to be in trouble?’ Aaron asked Sian.
‘I doubt it,’ she replied.
They were both sitting at their desks facing each other. Just a few days ago Aaron was all smiles at the wonderful news his wife was pregnant, now his dour expression was back firmly imprinted on his face.
‘I had no idea Rory would have started the interview on his own.’
‘Aaron, you’re not to blame. He didn’t start the interview either. He wanted to know what made Callum a killer in the first place.’
‘I’ll never forgive myself if he doesn’t pull through.’
‘Sian, sorry to interrupt, but did you manage to have a word with Matilda?’ Faith asked. She had obviously been crying as her make-up had run, and, despite trying to rectify it, she hadn’t done a good job.
‘I’m so sorry, Faith, I haven’t. Everything sort of went mad for a while there, didn’t it? Tell me what you’ve uncovered and we’ll sort something out between us.’
Faith told Sian and Aaron about the Malcolm Preston case and how everyone in Norwich seemed to know Ryan Asher was responsible, including the police, despite there being no evidence.
‘What happened to Malcolm’s parents?’
‘His mother died of breast cancer shortly afterwards. His father keeps a bedside vigil.’
‘Any brothers and sisters?’
‘No.’
‘We could really do with interviewing the father. Leave it with me, Faith. I’ll have a word with the ACC. I doubt one of us will be able to go down because we’re short-staffed as it is. However, someone from Norwich could go and have a chat with him.’
‘Thanks, Sian. Oh, Aaron, I had a note on my desk about Elly Caine. Weren’t you interviewing her?’
‘Oh fuck! I forgot all about that.’
‘Please tell me you’ve interviewed her, Aaron,’ Sian said.
‘Yes, I have. I just haven’t done anything about it. I’m sorry.’ He looked genuinely upset that his mind was no longer on the job he loved so much. Rightly so, he was putting Katrina first, but he should still be committed to his work.
‘Does she have an alibi for Monday night?’
‘Yes. She hasn’t been anywh
ere near Starling House since she left. It was a dark time in her life by all accounts. Her husband left her and sold the house without telling her. She was practically homeless. She asked her cousin, Richard Grover, to get her the job at Starling House as she was desperate – for work and a place to live. She’s now working as a barmaid at a pub in Derby. She works six nights a week and was there on Monday night. She hasn’t spoken to Richard Grover since she left either. He kicked off when she beat Jacob Brown up saying she’d betrayed his trust. They had a huge fight and she hasn’t seen him since.’
‘She betrayed his trust?’ Sian scoffed. ‘That’s rich coming from him. What about all this abuse that’s been uncovered. Did she know about that?’
‘Well, I didn’t know about any of that myself at the time. However, she didn’t mention anything about it. She said the staff were quiet, kept themselves to themselves. They didn’t talk much. If she hadn’t been sacked she would probably have left anyway as she didn’t like the atmosphere. It was depressive.’
‘Did she say anything about Kate?’
‘All she said was that Kate needed to take that metal rod out of her arse.’
‘Such a lovely way with words,’ Sian smiled.
Christian Brady signalled to Sian from the other side of the room. He was ready for them both to interview Richard Grover.
Richard Grover was wedged in behind the desk in interview room one. He was a large mess of a man with greasy hair, unkempt stubble, and dark beady eyes. He had a permanent sheen of sweat on his forehead.
‘Richard, you have been charged with causing a child to engage in sexual activity and aggravated assault by abusing a position of trust. Do you understand those charges?’ DI Brady began.
‘Yes,’ he replied, his voice constricted by heavy breathing.
‘You’ve waived your right to have a solicitor present too, is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you deny the charges?’
‘No.’
‘So you admit abusing Craig Hodge, Lee Marriott, Lewis Chapman, Mark Parker, Callum Nixon, Thomas Hartley, and Jacob Brown?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are there others?’
‘Yes.’
‘Going back how long?’
‘I started at Starling House in 2012.’
‘So you’ve been abusing boys in your care for more than four years?’
‘Yes,’ he replied indifferently.
Christian turned to look at Sian. She had children the same age as the boys in Starling House. The look of disgust on her face showed how difficult it was to hear of a man admitting his grotesque crimes in such a cool and calm way.
‘If we get a list together of all the boys who were at Starling House while you worked there, would you be able to tell us which ones you abused?’
‘Yes.’
‘You brought things from the outside for the inmates, in return for sexual favours. Is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you bring them?’
‘Chocolate, magazines, games, anything they wanted.’
‘Why did you do it?’ Sian asked. It was the first time she’d spoken, and her question was loaded with rage.
‘Because I was able to,’ he replied calmly, as if anybody would have taken advantage of the position he was in.
‘Is that it?’
‘What do you want me to say? Would you like me to tell you I was abused as a child, that I was bullied at school, that I’ve always struggled to meet women? Sorry, can’t help you there. I had a wonderful childhood; I was the school bully, and I’ve been married once and had three serious relationships with women since my divorce. If you’re looking for some psychological reason why I did it, you’re out of luck.’
‘So you abused them just because they were in your care?’
‘You keep using the word abuse like I’m some kind of paedo, I’m not. They consented. Yes, I bought them things, but I didn’t force them to do anything.’
‘Consented? Did Lee Marriott consent to you having sex with him?’ Sian asked, the look of disgust on her face.
‘As a matter of fact, yes, he did,’ Richard sniggered.
‘Why? What did you bribe him with? And why only Lee?’
‘You’ve seen him. He’s timid, frightened of his own shadow. I could have asked him to do anything.’
‘You’re disgusting,’ Christian said, allowing his feelings to get the better of him.
Sian jumped in. ‘Lee Marriott was a vulnerable—’
‘Vulnerable?’ Richard laughed. ‘You’re joking surely! They’re killers, each and every one of them have committed murder. Their victims were vulnerable; they’re pure evil. They’re manipulative, lying, deceitful bastards. I was just giving them a taste of their own medicine.’
‘Did that also include murdering them?’ Sian asked.
‘What?’
‘Did you kill Ryan Asher and Jacob Brown?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Why “of course”? You said yourself you were giving them a taste of their own medicine; Jacob Brown was found hanging in the woods – he raped and murdered his girlfriend in the woods. Wouldn’t it be justice if he was killed in similar circumstances?’ Christian asked, leaning forward on the table.
Richard Grover was visibly sweating. The cocky grin on his face as he defended his actions had fallen, to be replaced by angst and worry. ‘I didn’t kill them, honest.’
‘Why should we believe you?’ Sian asked. ‘You’ve readily admitted, on record, that you’ve abused boys in your care since you started work at Starling House in 2012. That’s four years of abuse. You’ve lied, betrayed, and manipulated for four years. Do you honestly expect us to believe you didn’t kill them too?’
‘But I didn’t,’ the panic in his voice was evident. Richard was almost out of his chair. His sweaty hands were clenched tight as the anger raged through his body.
‘What do you think, Sian?’ Christian asked. ‘For four years he’s lied, abused, manipulated, betrayed, isn’t murder the next step?’
‘I’d have thought so,’ she agreed.
‘NO! Look, I’ll put my hand up to the abuse. I’ve already told you. I’ll give you names and everything, but I’m not a killer. You have my word.’
‘Your word means nothing, Richard. Interview terminated 14:27,’ Christian said, turning off the recording and standing up.
‘What happens to me now?’
‘You’ll be locked up and thrown to the wolves,’ Christian said.
The arrogant Richard Grover who had strutted into the interview room was now a shell of a man as he sat back in his chair and thought about what he had done.
‘Lady,’ he called out to Sian as she was halfway through the door. Sian turned to look at him. ‘Have you got kids?’
‘Don’t answer him,’ Christian replied quickly.
Sian mused over the question. Richard Grover didn’t frighten her. He was a pathetic waste of space. ‘Yes. I’ve got four.’
‘I’ll get off. The jury will believe me over six convicted killers. When I do, I’ll come and find you, and your kids. I’ll enjoy fucking a copper’s kid.’
‘You sick, fu—’ Sian lunged forward but Christian grabbed her and pulled her out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
‘I told you not to answer him.’
‘Bastard,’ Sian said, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘When he’s locked up I’m going to make sure everyone knows what he’s done, and I hope they fucking crucify him.’ She walked away, head down, hiding the flow of tears. It took a great deal for Sian to get emotional, but any threat against her family and nothing would stand in the way of her revenge.
FIFTY-NINE
‘Why do I have to sit in the back?’
‘Because it’s my car and I’m driving.’
‘Why can’t I sit in the front?’
‘Because I get sick if I sit in the back of a car.’
Matilda leaned back and fo
lded her arms liked a spoiled child. The fish and chips she had been forced to eat were lying heavy and giving her a severe attack of heartburn. The fact the windows in the car were open as they drove steadily along the motorway meant Matilda couldn’t hear any of the conversation between Adele and Pat in the front so she had to sit and be quiet.
The vibration of an incoming text message gave her something to do. She had texted Sian and told her to make her excuses to the ACC if she wanted to know where she was. The reply:
I told Val you were ill. She’s fine.
She breathed a sigh of relief. She put her phone away and quickly brought it back out again and started texting Scott, hoping he would be still at the hospital.
Any news on Rory?
He came out of theatre about 10 mins ago.
And?
No idea yet.
Are his parents there?
Yes. Amelia has come 2.
How are they?
Not gud.
Keep me informed.
Will do.
Despite what Adele said to her in the mortuary, Matilda would blame herself if anything happened to Rory. He was a member of her team, and he had been injured whilst on duty. Therefore, by default, she was to blame, and no Jammie Dodger therapy would change that.
She closed her eyes and could see the stricken detective on the floor of the interview room. His once handsome face was a swollen mess of bruises and cuts where Callum’s fists had struck. What had he done to deserve that? Nothing, apart from doing his job, which is exactly what the teachers had been doing when Callum callously murdered them. That boy was pure evil.
‘We’re here,’ Pat said, turning around in the front passenger seat.
‘Where’s here?’ Matilda looked out of the window at the row of depressed-looking terraced houses.
‘We’re seeing Debbie Hartley.’
‘Oh. Yes. Of course,’ Matilda replied as if she had been in a daze for the whole journey, which wasn’t far from the truth.
‘You came back! That’s great. I’m so pleased. Come on in,’ Debbie said. Her face lit up the second she opened the door and saw Pat Campbell standing on the doorstep.
‘I’ve brought a couple of friends, I hope you don’t mind.’