by Michael Wood
‘When was the last time you spoke to him?’
Judy looked up as if thinking. ‘I haven’t seen him for about a month but I spoke to him on the phone a couple of days ago. Saturday I think it was.’
‘What about?’
‘Well, he was slightly drunk. I don’t usually like talking to him when he’s had a few but he sounded serious. He kept talking about the past. He hasn’t done that for years and doesn’t like bringing up the past. He said he wished he’d done things differently when we were still together.’
‘What did you say?’
‘There’s nothing I can say when he’s in that condition. I just listened and when there was a gap told him to go to bed and sleep it off.’
‘Judy, I’m going to need you to identify Iain. Is that something you’ll be able to do?’
‘Oh God,’ again she reached for the necklace. ‘I suppose so, yes.’
‘And I’ll need a formal statement from you too.’
‘Ok. I’ll have a word with my manager, let him know what’s happening.’
Judy stood up to leave the room but decided to check her appearance in the small smeared mirror in the corner. She wiped her eyes and ran her fingers through her tangled hair before disappearing through the doorway.
Matilda went over their conversation in her head. Something Judy had said seemed to turn a light on but then quickly extinguish it again. What had Matilda not picked up on?
Chapter Twelve
The identification went well. Judy didn’t collapse, she didn’t break down and wail. She looked through the small window into the viewing room at her dead ex-husband lying still.
Placing her hand on the glass she whispered, ‘submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.’
She turned her tear-stained face to Matilda, nodded, said in a firm yet cracked voice that he was indeed Iain Kilbride, and then asked to leave.
At the station, Sian made Judy a cup of tea and sat her in a room used for vulnerable witnesses giving statements of a more disturbing nature. She took her a KitKat too. The door opened and Matilda walked in. She set a recording device down on the coffee table.
‘Judy, do you mind if I record this conversation? It’s not a statement, or anything like that, I just don’t want to miss anything.’
‘That’s fine.’ Judy was sat on the edge of the pale green sofa, her hands cupped around the mug. She took sporadic sips of the tea and didn’t touch the KitKat.
‘When did you first meet Iain?’
A smile came to Judy’s sad-looking face as she remembered a happier time in her life. ‘We met in 1991 in a nightclub in Leeds. I’m from Leeds originally. I was nineteen at the time. Iain was twenty-five. You know he used to be in Emmerdale?’ She asked proudly. Matilda and Sian both nodded. ‘I’d grown up watching him on television and thought he was gorgeous. I read in the local paper that he was appearing at this nightclub so I dragged my little sister along with me. The second I saw him I was in love. It took me over an hour to pluck up the courage to say something to him. I can’t remember what I said but it was probably silly. Anyway, a bit later that night he came up to the bar and asked if he could buy me a drink. Towards the end of the night he had to go but asked for my number. I didn’t think he’d ring but he did. We arranged to meet up again the following weekend, only the two of us, and the rest just happened.
‘We married two years later. Clara was born the year after that, in ’94. We had our photograph in the tabloids when Clara was born. It was surreal,’ Judy was beaming at the memories.
‘What happened in 1995 when he was axed from the soap?’
The smile dropped from Judy’s face. ‘That was unfortunate. We found out in the February that a new producer was joining and his reputation came with him. He was known as a bit of an axeman. Every programme he’d worked on he liked to make his mark. He didn’t start until the summer and there were months of people worrying they’d be for the chop. Iain’s name was one of the first to be brought up.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, in the last couple of years he hadn’t had many great storylines. His character had grown stale. I think when he was told, it was a relief for him. He loved the show but needed that push to move on.’
‘Did he mind being killed off?’
‘He said he didn’t but a year or so after he left, when he couldn’t find work, he said there was no reason for him to have died. His character could have moved away and maybe gone back again one day. It wasn’t his decision though.’
‘Why did the work dry up?’
‘He had parts in Casualty and The Bill. He did two episodes of London’s Burning as well. At first casting directors liked having him because they could use his pedigree, from being in one of Britain’s top shows, to draw in more viewers. I hate to say this, especially now he’s dead, but he was never going to win an Oscar. He was good, but not good enough.’
‘How did he take it?’
‘Not very well as you can probably imagine. He got depressed. He couldn’t cope with being in the normal world. Being an actor, being in a soap, it’s another life. People admire you, they look up to you, and love you. Once you’re off the telly, that’s it, nobody knows who you are anymore. It’s difficult to come to terms with. When the realization dawned, that he was never going to have that life again, we left Leeds and moved to Chester. God knows why. We couldn’t afford it, but he wanted a fresh start.’
‘What did he do – work wise?’ Sian asked.
‘He knew someone who had a minicab firm and was looking for an investor. I told Iain not to but he was full of ideas about turning it into an up-market business. It was the happiest I’d seen him in a long time so I just let him get on with it.’
‘Wasn’t it a success?’
‘Oh it was. Until his partner decided to empty the bank account and do a runner. We tried everything to get our money back but it was no good. We had to declare bankruptcy just to keep the house.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Matilda said, genuinely upset by the story.
‘I was working in a card shop at the time. It wasn’t much but it was enough. We sold the house and rented somewhere in Chester but it didn’t feel the same. Again, Iain wanted a complete break so we came to Sheffield.’
‘When did you split up?’
‘I left Iain in 2003. I couldn’t cope with his moods, his drinking. I briefly went back but I couldn’t live with him anymore. I filed for divorce in 2004 and it was completed in 2005. He understood. Like I said, we remained in contact. Sort of.’
While telling her story, Judy had gone from happy and smiling to looking disheartened and sad. She was no longer looking at Matilda and Sian, she was looking past them, into the distance, into her former life.‘You mentioned your daughter, Clara. Did she have much contact with her dad?’
Judy’s bottom lip wobbled and a tear fell from her right eye which was immediately swept away. ‘Clara died two years ago in 2008. She was thirteen.’
Matilda and Sian exchanged glances. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Matilda said.
Judy picked up her bag from the floor, rummaged around in it and took out a dog-eared photograph from one of the inside pockets. ‘This is Clara.’ It was a school photograph. It showed a small blue-eyed girl with brown hair neatly styled into pigtails. She sat up straight and smiled into the eye of the camera. There were a few gaps in her teeth where she was waiting for her adult ones to come through. ‘She was twelve when this was taken.’
‘She’s very pretty,’ Matilda said, passing the photo to Sian.
‘Three weeks after that photograph was taken, she met a man. I didn’t like her using the internet, but schools encourage it. I had no idea she’d created a Facebook page. I didn’t even know what one was. I’m a bit naïve when it comes to technology. I shouldn’t be, but, well, I’ve paid the price for that now, haven’t I?
‘I know there was a boy she liked as she kept dropping his name into conversations – Danny. Whenever
she spoke of him she went all dreamy and started biting her bottom lip. I didn’t discourage it but I didn’t encourage it either. I assumed it was a school girl crush that would eventually fizzle out. Anyway, she arranged to meet up with this Danny in town. When she got there a man showed up who said he was Danny’s big brother. Danny wouldn’t be coming as he’d twisted his ankle playing football but the man would take her to their house. I don’t know why she went with him.’
Judy looked away while she wiped the tears rolling down her face. She spoke in the monotone of a woman dulled by pain, a woman who had told this story so many times that her emotions were automatic.
‘We – me and her dad – told her many times, not to go off with strangers,’ Judy took a deep breath. ‘In the space of two hours he raped her three times. When she got home, she ran straight upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom. I went up and asked if she was all right. She said she was sweaty after running for the bus and wanted to have a shower. She was in there for so long. I knew there was something wrong. When she came out she was in tears. I held her and she let it all come out.
‘She didn’t want me to call her dad but I did and he came straight over. He wanted to call the police, Clara didn’t. She started crying and said she’d run away if we called the police. I wanted her to go to the hospital, get her checked, but Clara refused to go. She just couldn’t stop crying. In the end we decided to just let her deal with it in her own way. We didn’t want to push her.’
Judy stopped talking. She reached over for the tissues and blew her nose. She grabbed for another and wiped her eyes.
‘What happened?’ Sian asked.
‘I noticed before Clara did. I don’t think she knew what was happening but I saw it. She was pregnant. I didn’t want to take her to the doctor. I got one of those home pregnancy kits from Boots. It was positive. She was devastated. She cried so hard I thought she would stop breathing. The next morning, I told her what the options were. She could have an abortion or she could have the child, it was entirely up to her. I didn’t tell Iain. I knew he would have gone crazy and I needed Clara to decide what to do for herself.
‘That weekend, we went to Skegness, to get some sea air and a walk on the beach, help to clear her head. It was a nice weekend actually,’ Judy smiled. ‘In the guest house on the Saturday night, Clara said how she’d enjoyed the day. She’d made up her mind. She didn’t want to be a mum, she still wanted to be a child. I told her that she had made the right decision and I’d stand by her. We spent Sunday as if nothing had happened. We went to the cinema, played in the arcades, went on rides and walked on the beach. It was lovely. We caught the evening train home and were back in Sheffield by eight o’clock.
‘The next morning I went to her room to get her up for school and she was hanging from the light fitting. She left a note. I never showed it to Iain. That’s when he really started drinking heavily.’
‘Judy, I don’t know what to say, I’m so sorry,’ Matilda said.
Sian leaned over for the tissues and wiped away her tears. As the mother of a twelve-year-old daughter, she knew exactly what Judy must have been going through.
‘The thing is,’ Judy said, swallowing hard. ‘I’m wondering whether Iain’s death might have had something to do with Clara.’
Matilda frowned. She leaned forward and looked at the recording device on the coffee table to make sure it was still working. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘When Iain was going to set up that minicab business, he went on a computer course. When Clara died, Iain spent hours on her computer trying to find the man who had raped her. He found the messages they’d exchanged but, on their own, there was nothing the police could do. Iain mentioned something about an IV addresses? Is that a thing?’
‘IP. Yes it is.’
‘He said the man could be traced through the IP address on the email. I had no idea what he was talking about. I was tired. I didn’t want him raking everything up. I’d lost my little girl, my only child. What use would a court case be? Besides, with Clara dead, it would be our word against his. I told him to drop it. I got quite angry and practically threw him out of the house. I know this was all a long time ago but what if Iain found him recently and he killed Iain?’
‘Wouldn’t Iain have told you if he’d tracked him down?’
‘He might have done,’ Judy said, looking at the floor. ‘But every time he brought it up I told him I didn’t want to know. Eventually he just stopped talking about it.’
‘Do you still have your daughter’s computer?’
‘Yes. It’s in her bedroom. It’s just how she left it. I can’t bear to get rid of her things.’
‘We would be able to trace the messages sent to Clara’s computer, but, like you said, it would be his word against yours.’
‘If you can trace the messages then please do. However, I don’t want to know where they lead you. If it turns out that he did kill Iain then charge him with that, but if he didn’t, then I don’t want to know who it was that raped my little girl.’
Matilda and Sian exchanged glances. Without knowing who raped her daughter, Judy would spend the rest of her life in limbo without closure. She was obviously numb from years of heartache but did she really want to live this way?
Chapter Thirteen
‘Ma’am, I’ve spoken to the rest of the residents in the block of flats Iain Kilbride lived,’ DC Anna Evans began, standing in the open doorway of Matilda’s office. ‘There are six flats in total. Two are currently unlived in and we’ve got statements from Robert Blyth and Eric Chatterton. Iain’s next door neighbour is a young lad, Tommy Bishop, who hasn’t even seen a neighbour yet. All of Iain’s colleagues at Barnes Coaches echo what we’ve already heard about him. It’s like he didn’t have a life at all, he just existed.’
‘Not difficult to understand why,’ Matilda said. Since returning from her chat with Judy King, she had retreated to her office. She was slumped in her chair, head resting in her hands.
‘Sorry?’
‘Nothing. What about the visitors Eric Chatterton heard coming and going?’
‘They weren’t for Iain. As I said, Tommy Bishop hasn’t been there long. His mates have been round after work to help decorate.’
‘Thanks Anna. Back to the drawing board, then.’
‘Is everything all right, ma’am? You look a bit tired.’
‘I’m fine,’ Matilda tried to smile but couldn’t manage it.
Anna left the office, wondering if Matilda had even registered her presence. She passed Sian and said hello but Sian didn’t seem to notice her either; she carried on walking, entered Matilda’s office and closed the door behind her. Anna may as well go home for all the use she’s being today.
‘You look pensive,’ Sian said, closing the door behind her and sitting down.
‘I was thinking about what Judy said. I wonder if Iain had tracked down his daughter’s rapist and things turned violent.’
‘It’s possible I suppose.’
‘On the other hand, if it was me and I’d met up with the killer, maybe arranged for him to come round, I’d have wanted some kind of insurance policy just in case it went wrong and I ended up dead,’ Matilda said.
‘What kind of insurance policy?’
‘I’m not sure. Maybe there’s something in his flat we haven’t found yet.’
‘Do you want to go back and take a look at his things? I think forensics have finished.’
‘I think we might have to. Not tonight though,’ Matilda replied, looking at her watch. ‘Keep the flat as a sealed crime scene for the moment.’
‘Will do.’
‘Have forensics found anything on the laptops yet?’
‘Not so far. There are loads of photos of his time on Emmerdale and Clara growing up. The usual family snaps.’
‘What did you think of Judy’s story?’
‘I found it incredibly sad. I can’t even begin to imagine what their daughter must have gone through. And then to hang
herself? She must have been in so much pain, emotionally.’
‘Meanwhile, the bloke who raped her is still out there. I wonder how many others he’s done it to,’ Matilda said, looking out of the window at the grey skyline of the steel city.
‘Do you want me to check for sex attacks around 2008? See if there are any similarities?’
‘That would be a great help, Sian. Thank you.’
Sian gave a sympathetic smile and left the office, closing the door behind her. Before walking away, she looked through the glass at her boss. She seemed deep in thought yet had a forlorn look on her face. That’s what gave Matilda Darke the edge over Ben Hales. She cared about the victims and she didn’t mind who saw it. Hales was devoid of empathy. Matilda was a born DCI.
‘Judy, it’s DCI Darke from South Yorkshire Police. I was wondering if I could ask you a quick question?’
‘Of course.’
‘Has Iain given you anything lately?’ Matilda was sat in her office, hunched over her desk. Her voice was low so she couldn’t be overheard. She was phoning on a whim and didn’t want to appear foolish if it failed to pay off.
‘Given me anything? Like what?’
‘I’m not sure. A card or a letter or something?’
Judy scoffed. ‘You’re joking. I never received a Christmas card from him when we were married, so he’s not likely to start now.’
‘No, I didn’t mean a Christmas card. I meant … well … anything. A package. Something you may not think of as significant.’
‘No. He hasn’t given me anything at all.’
Matilda sighed. ‘Did he mention if he wanted to see you again?’
‘We were planning to meet up over Christmas at some point, but nothing had been set in stone. Is something wrong?’
‘No. Just thinking aloud. Sorry to have bothered you.’
Matilda hung up. She was obviously on the wrong track. Although, at the back of her mind, something told her she wasn’t.
Chapter Fourteen
Matilda and James were late. It was entirely Matilda’s fault for being late home from work. She quickly freshened up in the caravan’s upright coffin which was laughably called a shower before dressing in a smart, but casual, trouser suit. A bottle of wine bought on the way, at ten minutes after seven o’clock, they were knocking on Adele’s front door.