Scared to Death (A Detective Kay Hunter novel)

by Rachel Amphlett

  The phone on the meeting room table rang. Ashe leaned across and picked it up.

  ‘Hello? Right. Thanks. I’ll let them know.’ He replaced the receiver. ‘Matthews has returned from his shift.’

  ‘What’s the normal routine when someone gets back?’ said Kay.

  ‘It depends. Eli keeps a change of clothes here, so once he’s handed his keys in, he’ll probably get changed before going home.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘We’ll give him a couple of minutes.’

  She realised after the urgency she’d conveyed to the HR manager in the past half an hour he’d likely wonder at her instructions, but it was imperative that she didn’t rush now.

  Approaching Eli the moment he arrived back at the depot and taking him away for questioning would only cause a scene, and she knew until she could prove otherwise, he had to be treated as an innocent man.

  Ashe glanced at his watch. ‘Right, he should be in the locker room by now, so if you’d like to follow me.’

  Kay and Carys followed him from the office, turning left instead of right along the corridor, and past the double doors through to the sorting office. The corridor truncated at the end, and they took the left-hand fork. By Kay’s calculations, they were heading towards the staff car park.

  The unpainted brickwork gave way to two separate doors, one labelled for men, the other for women.

  ‘These are the locker rooms,’ said Ashe. He pointed at the men’s door, then crossed his arms and stood in the middle of the corridor, as if unsure what to do next.

  ‘We can take it from here,’ said Kay, and held out her hand. ‘I presume we can exit through the staff car park?’

  The man looked relieved. ‘That would be good. We don’t normally get any members of the public coming to the reception area this time of the day, but you never know. It’d certainly be a bit—’

  ‘Awkward? Yes, I understand,’ said Kay.

  They watched as he walked away, then Carys settled against the wall opposite the locker room door, and Kay blocked the corridor in the direction of the car park.

  Her heartbeat refused to settle.

  She knew she was right. Knew Eli Matthews was the second kidnapper they were looking for. Knew he was responsible for Melanie’s murder, and her father’s death.

  Her phone buzzed in her bag, and she swore under her breath. She pulled it out, and jerked her thumb at the locker room.

  Carys nodded.

  ‘Yes?’ she murmured into the phone.

  ‘We’ve got it.’

  She exhaled, some of the tension fleeing her neck and shoulders. ‘We’ll be on our way shortly,’ she said.

  ‘We’ll be waiting for you.’

  She finished the call.

  Carys raised an eyebrow.

  ‘We’re good to go,’ said Kay.

  They both turned at the sound of the door to the men’s locker room opening, and the man from the photograph appeared.

  A confused look spread across his features.

  ‘Eli Matthews?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Kay Hunter, and this is my colleague, Detective Constable Carys Miles.’ She advised him of his rights, citing the caution as she watched his face for a reaction.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘We’d like to ask you some questions at the station regarding the kidnapping and murder of Melanie Richards.’ Kay pointed to the exit. ‘We have a car waiting.’

  Eli let the door close behind him, and followed Carys as she led the way through to the car park at the rear of the building.

  As they hurried towards the vehicle, their shoes splashing in puddles, Kay placed her hand on his arm to guide him to the car, but he shook it off, a glare on his face.

  She shrugged, opened the back door for him, and waited while he climbed in.

  As she shut it, she frowned.

  A beige-coloured stain covered the paintwork where her hand had been. She turned her palm over and stared, then raised it to her nose and sniffed.

  ‘Interesting,’ she murmured.

  FORTY-THREE

  By the time Kay returned to the incident room after booking in Eli Matthews with the custody sergeant, her colleagues were clustered at one end of the room, balanced on desks if a seat wasn’t available.

  Despite his faults, DCI Larch had finally convinced his peers to obtain more resources, and so the team had grown by three more people – all administrative staff who would help Sharp keep the increasing paperwork up to date.

  Sharp nodded as Kay leaned against her desk.

  ‘Hunter, good work. We’ll talk about the interview strategy in a moment.’ He turned his attention back to the rest of the team.

  ‘Tasks for now – Barnes, get onto our colleagues in Suffolk. Find out if there have been any kidnappings, or unsolved murders that are similar to that of Melanie Richards. Debbie can help you follow up any leads. Carys – phone the County Deliveries depot in Ipswich where Eli was previously employed. See if there were any issues with his employment history there.’

  Sharp’s eyes flickered to a point behind Kay, and she spun round.

  ‘Okay if I join you?’

  A slender woman in her late fifties with short, grey hair cut into a fashionable razor-sharp bob peered through the door, a notebook clutched to her chest.

  ‘Come on in, Fiona,’ said Sharp. ‘Everyone, for those who haven’t met Fiona Wilkes before, she’s our senior interviewing specialist.’

  A murmur of greetings swept through the room before Sharp brought the meeting to a halt.

  ‘All right, everyone. Heads down. We need as much of this information as soon as possible. DCI Larch is currently speaking to the chief superintendent to get us another twelve hours to hold Matthews, but until we hear otherwise, we have twenty-four hours within which to charge him. An application for a further search authorisation in relation to Matthews’ residential address is currently under review, and Larch has indicated that should be approved within the next hour or so.’

  As the team began to disperse and head back to their desks, Sharp beckoned to Kay.

  ‘Come and join me and Fiona in my office. I want to get the first interview underway within the hour.’

  Sharp stood to one side and let the two women pass before he shut the door, and gestured to them to take the two chairs opposite his desk.

  He manoeuvred his way between the desk and a filing cabinet, and lowered himself until he could lean against a low, wooden cabinet against the wall.

  ‘Okay, Fiona, you’ve had a chance to review what we’ve got to date on this guy, and our reasons for bringing him in for formal questioning. Any initial thoughts?’

  The interview specialist cleared her throat, and flipped open her notebook.

  ‘I’ve taken a look at the extracts from Eli’s personnel file David Ashe provided,’ she said, the soft Somerset lilt of her voice belying the canny strategist beneath. ‘And you’re dealing with a very intelligent person. Although he didn’t finish any higher education, the interview process used by County Deliveries, and subsequent reviews with his manager from a career development perspective, indicate a shrewd personality.’

  ‘Good at giving the impression of being harmless, while being otherwise, perhaps?’ said Kay.

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past him,’ said Fiona. ‘As you say, Devon, you’ve got him for twenty-four hours, and hopefully you’ll be granted the extra twelve on top of that, so my advice would be to use this first interview to establish facts and gauge his personality – let’s see how he reacts to being questioned initially before we start to put the pressure on him.’ She shivered. ‘Bearing in mind the way the killer ended Melanie Richards’ life, if Matthews is guilty, then he’s meticulous, and may in turn think he’s untouchable and that we don’t have enough on him to formally charge him.’

  ‘Do we tell him about the searches from the start?’ said Sharp.

  Fiona tapped her pen on the spine o
f her notebook for a moment. ‘Yes. See what his response is to that, but don’t push it. Let him have something to worry about if necessary, between the first and second interviews.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Sharp, and straightened before unbuttoning his jacket and setting it on the back of his chair. ‘We’ll do one interview tonight, and then a second one mid-morning. That’ll give us time to see what information comes through from Suffolk, and the searches at the lock-up and the house. By then, hopefully Larch will have got us the extra twelve hours to continue our questioning as well.’

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he said to Kay, as Fiona wound her way past the desks and left the incident room.

  She exhaled, and cricked her neck. ‘When we picked him up from the depot, I put my hand on his arm to help him into the car. He jerked his arm away from me, but I was left with a substance on my hand afterwards. Make-up.’

  ‘Make-up? You mean, like the stuff you put on your face?’

  ‘Yes. Sheila Milborough at Yvonne Richards’ place said that’s what Melanie took the mickey out of him about.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I wondered that, but when we arrived back at the station, his sleeves were rolled down.’

  Sharp frowned. ‘The only reason he’d be wearing make-up is to hide something. Like a bruise.’

  ‘That’s what I’m thinking. But, I bump into things all the time. We all do. Why hide it by using make-up?’

  ‘Depends how you got the bruise.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘It’s an angle.’ He checked his watch. ‘Okay. I’ll go see if the approval for the search authorisation for the mother’s house is through. Let’s get started with the questioning.’ He turned away, and then peered over his shoulder. ‘You can lead this one. It’ll do you good to get back into the swing of things.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  He nodded. ‘Get our man. I’ll see you in interview room one.’

  FORTY-FOUR

  Kay waited until Sharp pressed the “record” button, and then stated clearly who was present in the room.

  A duty solicitor had been requested for Eli Matthews, and both men looked as uncomfortable as the other about the circumstances by which they’d been thrown together.

  Eli wore a set of overalls, his own clothes removed for forensic analysis at the same time Harriet had taken swabs of his hands.

  Kay briefly wondered how long the young duty solicitor would last before he changed his mind about practicing criminal defence law, and then turned her attention to their suspect.

  ‘State your name, age, and occupation for the purposes of the recording, please.’

  ‘Elijah Matthews. Twenty-eight. Courier driver.’

  ‘I’ll now read you your formal rights,’ said Kay, and spoke the words from memory. ‘…do you understand?’ she concluded.

  Eli nodded.

  ‘I need you to say that out loud for the purposes of the recording, please,’ said Kay.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Eli’s whole body language remained relaxed, an almost languid expression on his face. His eyes travelled lazily down Kay’s body, but she retained her composure, and ignored his attempts to unnerve her. He wasn’t the first suspect to try to intimidate her, and no doubt, he wouldn’t be the last. It was why she always wore a double-breasted jacket. She knew he couldn’t see anything of interest.

  Eli clasped his hands together on the desk and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Mr Matthews—’

  ‘Eli, please.’

  ‘Mr Matthews, where were you last Thursday night between eleven o’clock and one thirty?’

  ‘At home.’

  ‘Please confirm the address.’

  Eli sighed, and recounted the address.

  ‘That’s your mother’s house?’

  He scowled. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And your mother will be able to provide you with an alibi for that time?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ he sneered. ‘She was drunk at the time. As usual.’

  Kay noted the solicitor jot something down out the corner of her eye. ‘Do you own a van, Mr Matthews?’

  He blinked. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And where is that van kept, Mr Matthews?’

  He glared at her. ‘At a lock-up. Off the Queens Road.’

  ‘What do you use the van for?’

  He shrugged. ‘This and that.’

  ‘Elaborate, please, Mr Matthews.’

  He exhaled; an impatient huff that sent spittle flying onto the surface of the desk, and folded his arms. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  Kay leaned back, and pulled her notebook away from the blob of liquid. ‘Answer the question, please. What do you use the van for?’

  ‘Helping mates out. Moving stuff. That sort of thing.’

  ‘What sort of stuff?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Furniture and that.’

  ‘When was the last time you used it?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ he said. ‘A few weeks ago, maybe.’

  ‘Who were you helping at the time?’

  ‘Can’t remember.’

  Sharp slid the CCTV photograph of the van driving through the industrial estate across the table. ‘Is this your van?’

  Eli glanced down, and then smiled. ‘Nah,’ he drawled. ‘That’s not mine.’

  ‘What happened to your arm, Mr Matthews?’ said Kay, lowering her voice.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Your right arm. When we picked you up at the depot earlier, I placed my hand on your arm to guide you to the car. When I removed my hand, it had make-up on it.’ She pointed at his long sleeves. ‘You’ve since rolled down your shirt sleeves. What’s wrong with your arm?’

  Eli sneered, uncrossed his arms, and unbuttoned the cuff at his right wrist.

  ‘Banged me arm,’ he said. He rolled back the sleeve and held up his arm, turning it so she could see.

  Sure enough, a bluish-purple bruise covered the lower part of his forearm.

  ‘Looks painful.’

  He shrugged, and then rolled the sleeve back down.

  ‘How did you hurt yourself?’

  ‘Knocked it loading the van last week.’

  ‘Which van?’

  He glared at her. ‘The one at work.’

  ‘You didn’t report it?’

  He snorted. ‘’Course not. It’s nothing serious.’

  ‘Why have you attempted to cover it up with make-up?’

  His eyes blazed. ‘I didn’t want anyone making a fuss.’

  ‘Where were you between the hours of four-thirty and eight o’clock on Tuesday morning last week?’ said Sharp.

  ‘At home.’

  ‘Would your mother—’

  ‘No. She wouldn’t. She was drunk.’

  ‘Why did you move to Suffolk?’

  ‘Needed a change of scenery.’

  ‘But you only stayed for two years. Why was that?’

  ‘Didn’t like the scenery.’

  Sharp pushed two documents across the table towards Eli.

  ‘Mr Matthews, these are copies of approved search authorisations signed by a magistrate,’ he said.

  Eli frowned, confusion clouding his features. ‘Search authorisations? For what?’

  ‘This one is for a property in Maidstone, specifically, number three Edward Street. Your mother’s house. This one,’ he said, pushing the page closer, ‘is for your lock-up garage.’

  Eli’s jaw clenched.

  The young duty solicitor paled.

  ‘Now, Mr Matthews,’ said Kay. ‘Before we carry out these searches, is there anything you’d like to tell us? Anything we might expect to find at either of these two locations in relation to the kidnapping and murder of Melanie Richards?’

  Eli rocked back in his seat.

  ‘No,’ he said, eventually. ‘No, there isn’t.’

  FORTY-FIVE

  He took a long drag on his cigarette, and then squinted through the chemical-infused smoke as he exhaled.
>
  He rolled his shoulders, conscious of his hunched position over the laptop computer these past few days, and a constant twinge that had formed at the base of his neck.

  He refused to panic.

  He’d received a phone call to explain that Eli had been taken into custody, and silently congratulated the female detective. His customers would appreciate her determination.

  He removed the cigarette and wetted his lips. He wondered what price he could demand for footage of that one, if the opportunity arose.

  He pinched the cigarette between his fingers, and knocked the excess ash away, then took another drag.

  Eli’s misfortune was of concern.

  Luckily, the voyeur had the foresight to visit the lock-up garage before the police had learned of its whereabouts.

  Eli’s penchant for collecting things extended beyond young girls, and the voyeur had cursed under his breath as the beam from his torch had swept over a workbench at the back of the garage and onto the fake registration plates that lay there.

  He’d found a laptop computer in a plastic storage crate under the workbench, turned it over, and swore as he read the name etched into the surface.

  G Nelson.

  In a box of assorted nails, he’d found other souvenirs, a worrying trend that he thought the youngster had overcome.

  Especially after their last talk.

  The man was like a magpie, as if he coveted shiny things.

  The note was more worrying.

  He’d had no idea Eli had followed Guy Nelson to Mote Park that night.

  Their relationship had been purely professional – they’d simply engaged Nelson to provide the copy registration plates and collect the ransom money.

  Eli had worried about that. ‘What if he keeps it all?’

  He had shrugged. ‘Let him. It’s a fraction of what I can get for this.’

  Finding Nelson’s original suicide note had sent a chill down his spine. It had implicated Eli by name, and alluded to the participation of others, but that didn’t bother him – the police had only found the replacement note Eli had left on the body.

  What was more concerning was the fact Eli had kept the original note instead of destroying it.