by Michael Wood
‘So, he kills himself and does it in Matilda’s house because he knows it will screw her up for years to come,’ Valerie suggested.
‘That’s what I’d put my money on,’ Adele agreed.
‘That is …’ Valerie struggled to find the words. ‘That’s seriously messed up.’
All three filled their glasses in turn as they contemplated what Ben Hales had turned into and the lengths he had gone to make Matilda’s life a misery. They sat in silence, listening to the sound of the ticking clock on Valerie’s desk and the distant hum of a police station continuing to work during the early hours. A siren faded into the distance; somewhere in the building, a phone rang. Life was continuing as normal.
‘So where do we go from here?’ Sian asked, taking another sip of the drink she hated the taste of but couldn’t resist.
Valerie leaned back in her seat and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘To be perfectly honest with you Sian, I haven’t the foggiest idea.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Valerie Masterson was facing a logistical nightmare. As much as she hated the term, there was no denying that a serial killer was on the streets of Sheffield. Her star player, DCI Matilda Darke, had been signed off by a doctor, and Valerie had nobody with Matilda’s level of experience to take her place.
Since the death of Katie Reaney had hit the local press, the nationals had picked up on it. A female victim was more palatable for the front pages. It added a level of sexiness. A killer ridding the world of a paedophile was, in the eyes of the public, doing everyone a favour. Although Katie Reaney was a murderer, she was a woman and she was attractive – two unique selling points to the red tops. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet and already Valerie had been asked for comments from The Sun, The Mirror, The Star and the Daily Mail. As a Guardian reader, Valerie had taken pleasure in telling them all to politely piss off.
‘You wanted to see me, ma’am?’ Christian asked, poking his head around Valerie’s already open door.
‘Yes. DI Brady, please, come in. Coffee?’
‘No thanks, ma’am, I’ve had several this morning.’
‘Yes. I’m afraid I’ve exceeded my daily quota too,’ she said, rubbing her head to try and soothe the hangover. ‘Have a seat. How are you feeling after last night?’
Christian sat down and took a deep breath. He looked tired. ‘I’m OK.’ His reply was strong and convincing. Maybe he was built of sterner stuff than she realized.
‘Christian, DCI Darke has been signed off work for a few weeks, which, I’m sure you’ll agree, is understandable.’
‘Of course.’
‘However, that does leave us in a bit of a jam. I could have a DCI drafted in, but this current case would take a great deal of time for someone to get brought up to speed on. You know the case, you know the victims and the team. Are you prepared to step up to the plate as acting DCI?’
Christian’s eyes widened with excitement. ‘Erm … yes, absolutely. If you think I’m capable.’
‘I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think you were up to the task.’ That wasn’t technically true. Valerie had very few options open to her.
‘I won’t let you down,’ he beamed.
‘You can have Sian as acting-DI. I want you to keep me informed on a regular basis and anything you need, just ask. Don’t be afraid to knock on my door.’
‘I won’t. I promise. Thank you,’ he said trying, but failing, not to look absolutely thrilled at the opportunity. ‘I’ll get straight to it then.’ He practically jumped out of his seat and headed for the door with a spring in his step.
Valerie guessed he would text his wife the good news before he reached the end of the corridor. She hoped, with fingers firmly crossed, she had made the right decision.
Matilda had spent Saturday night and the whole of Sunday in hospital under sedation. After breakfast on Monday morning, once she had been seen by a doctor, Adele had arrived to take her back to her home. With Sian supervising, Adele had packed clothes and toiletries, added a few books and the wedding photo from the mantelpiece in the living room to the heavy suitcase.
‘How is she?’ Sian asked. They were standing in the hallway of the house, the front door open. Sian could see a blank-looking Matilda sitting in the front passenger seat of Adele’s car.
‘I’ve no idea,’ Adele replied.
‘Didn’t she want to come in?’
‘Would you?’
‘Probably not. Do you need a hand?’ she asked when she saw Adele struggle with the case.
‘Please.’
They loaded it into the back of the car. Sian went to the front passenger window and told Matilda to call her any time she needed to chat, then headed for her own car to return to the station. Duty called.
As Adele drove away, she wondered if Matilda would ever be back living there. If she was Matilda, there would be a for sale sign in the front garden before the police had even finished dusting for prints.
‘No arguments either. You’re moving in with me and Chris for as long as possible,’ Adele said from behind the wheel of her car. ‘I don’t want none of this “I’ve outstayed my welcome” crap. You just stay until you’re ready. There’s no rush.’
Staring out of the window, Matilda watched as Sheffield went by in a blur. The clouds were grey and hanging low over the steel city. People went about their business with long faces in heavy winter coats, dull greys and browns, not a single hint of brightness. Shop windows advertised huge discounts to make their sad winter sales seem healthier at the end of the month. Travel agents invited people to get away from the grim Northern winter for a couple of weeks of exotic sunshine, with up to seventy per cent off. Maybe that’s what Matilda needed – a break from reality. She had never really been a beach person, but she could choose a city holiday. Apparently, Prague was beautiful. James had often talked about it. He’d been several times before they met. Maybe she could go now. But who with? Matilda couldn’t even eat in a restaurant on her own without feeling sad and pathetic; how would she feel in a foreign country walking around with a guide book, talking to herself?
‘Why did he do it, Adele?’ Matilda eventually asked, turning away from the depressing view.
‘Sorry?’
‘Ben. Why did he kill himself?’
‘He obviously thought his life wasn’t worth living anymore.’
‘But why did he have to do it in my house? Did he really hate me that much?’
Adele shook her head.
Matilda continued to look at Adele until she realized her question was to remain unanswered. She went back to looking out of the window at Sheffield’s dreary landscape.
The afternoon dragged on. Adele had taken the morning off to collect Matilda from the hospital but, at lunchtime, she had left Matilda to her own devices and returned to perform the post-mortem on Ben Hales.
Matilda was alone. At the best of times it was not good for Matilda to be allowed to sit down with her thoughts, as they invariably turned to James, which led her on to the disappearance of Carl Meagan. She tried to shake them out of her head.
Matilda turned the television on and flicked through the hundreds of channels. There was nothing worth watching in the afternoons; repeats of old sitcoms and house-hunting shows. Maybe she could apply to go on one of those. There was no way she could live back in her dream house. The dream had been shattered.
Her phone rang. She looked at the display. The caller was unknown, so she didn’t answer. The phone had been ringing most of the day. Even when she knew the identity of the caller, she didn’t answer. Sian had sent several texts to see how she was, if she needed anything, someone to talk to. Matilda hadn’t replied. Rory had sent a text with a piece of gossip – Faith Easter had been spotted kissing PC Steve Harrison in the corridor. He hadn’t had it confirmed yet, but he’d get back to her the minute he had solid evidence.
Matilda sank into the seat and smiled. She was pleased Faith seemed to have found someone. She didn’t know much about the
DC’s private life, but she had heard from Sian that she’d had a run of bad luck with previous boyfriends. She hoped Faith was happy.
The smile faded. Happy? She didn’t even know what that word meant anymore.
Acting DCI Christian Brady had set Aaron the unenviable task of informing Ben Hales’s estranged wife of her husband’s death. With Faith in tow, they gained access to Ben’s home and set about trying to find contact details for Sara Hales.
‘It smells,’ Faith said upon entering. ‘Jesus, look at the state of the place.’
They stood in the doorway of the living room and took in their surroundings. Mouldy plates and coffee cups, squashed empty lager cans, empty vodka bottles. This was not the home of the Ben Hales they knew. It was more like a squat.
‘This is incredibly sad,’ Faith said as she stepped carefully through the debris. She went over to the window and pulled open the curtains, letting in a flood of natural light. She turned back to the pathetic scene of loneliness behind her. ‘I think I prefer it with the curtains closed.’
‘There are a couple of letters here,’ Aaron said, holding up some envelopes. He scanned the envelopes. One to his wife and daughters, and one to Matilda.
‘Oh God. Should we open them?’
‘No. They’re not for us. We need to find his mobile or an address book or something.’
They both set about opening drawers and rifling among newspapers and books.
‘I know what Ben did was wrong when he was a DI, but he was good to me,’ Faith said as she looked at an old family photograph of Ben, his now ex-wife, and two daughters. ‘He gave me an opportunity in the Murder Investigation Team. I mean, I know I messed up, a specialized unit isn’t for me, but he gave me confidence. I never thanked him.’
Aaron smiled and went back to looking through the untidy drawers, most of them jammed with old bills and receipts.
‘Aaron, do you ever worry about being on your own?’
‘Sorry?’
‘I know you’ve got Katrina, but, this job, it’s not nine-to-five, is it? We work a lot of hours. Look at the DCI, there are some nights I’m sure she hasn’t even gone home. Is that what it does to you? Are we all destined to end up like Matilda and Ben?’
‘Faith, I think you’re reading too much into this. Matilda and Ben are exceptional cases. Since her husband died, all Matilda has is work. Ben created his own downfall. Now, I’d like promotion. In a few years’ time, I hope to be a DI, then who knows. I’ve also got Katrina, and a baby on the way. They’ll keep me sane. I know they will.’
‘What about my sanity?’
‘I didn’t know you had any.’ He smiled.
‘Oh, you’re a very funny man,’ Faith replied sarcastically.
After a moment, he resumed his search. He found a battered address book in the top drawer of a sideboard and flicked through it. Most of the pages were empty, evidence of a lack of people in Ben’s life. He eventually found what he was looking for. ‘Come on, I’ve found an address.’
Breaking the news to Sara Hales that her husband had died was easier than Aaron and Faith had guessed it would be. They knocked on the door and waited for a reply. Sara was wiping her hands on a towel when she greeted them. Straight away she knew they were police officers.
‘You’ve come to tell me Ben’s dead, haven’t you?’ It wasn’t really a question.
Aaron and Faith looked at each other.
‘I suppose you’d better come in. I don’t intend having this conversation on the doorstep.’
She walked down the hall and left the front door open for the detectives to follow her. She was baking a cake in the kitchen and went back to mixing the ingredients. ‘Let’s hear it then,’ she said, weighing out flour. ‘He’s either choked on his own vomit or killed himself. Which is it?’ She methodically continued her task. ‘If I don’t get this cake in the oven it won’t be ready. So come on, out with it.’
‘We found him hanged last night.’
‘Hanged?’ She looked up. ‘I’d have guessed a bottle of vodka and a hundred paracetamols. He’s surprised me.’ Not a glimmer of emotion in sight.
‘We found this letter addressed to you and your daughters in his house.’ Faith held out the white envelope.
Sara glanced up again then back down at her cake. ‘Throw it on the side, I’ll read it later.’
‘When was the last time you saw your husband?’ Aaron asked.
Sara frowned as she thought, still mixing the ingredients vigorously in the bowl. ‘Between Christmas and New Year. My youngest still lives at home. He came round to bring her a present. Late, obviously.’
‘How did he seem?’
‘I couldn’t tell if he was hungover or pissed.’
‘How were things between the two of you?’
‘The man threatened me with a knife. I’m hardly likely to be his best friend, am I? We were going through a drawn-out divorce and I couldn’t stand the sight of him.’
‘Mrs Hales—’ Aaron began.
‘Monroe. I’ve gone back to my maiden name.’
‘Mrs Monroe—’
‘Ms.’
‘Sorry, Ms Monroe. We found your … Mr Hales, hanging in DCI Matilda Darke’s house. It appears he’d broken in and killed himself there.’
Sara paused. ‘Did Matilda find him?’
‘Yes she did.’
Sara suddenly burst into laughter. ‘Oh my God! That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in ages. I hope the bitch is in therapy for the rest of her life.’
Chapter Forty
‘I’ve got something,’ Rory said, slamming the phone down and jumping up.
‘Well don’t go spreading it around the office,’ Sian said without looking up from her desk.
‘No, listen. I’ve spoken to Elizabeth Ward. Katie Reaney’s probation officer. A few months ago, her car was broken into and, among other things, her laptop was stolen. It had encrypted files of her clients on it.’
Suddenly everyone in the room was paying attention.
‘Go on,’ Sian said.
‘That’s it.’
Sian sighed. ‘If the files are encrypted they won’t be able to be opened by someone who doesn’t have the password. They should be able to tell if they’ve been accessed, and where. Didn’t you find that out?’
‘Erm …’
‘That’s a no, I’m guessing.’
‘I said I’d pop round and see her later this afternoon.’
‘Ask the right questions this time, Rory. Also, find out where the car was when it was broken into. There could still be a chance of CCTV footage.’
***
‘You’d think in this day and age CCTV footage would be clearer than that,’ Sian moaned as, an hour later, she and Rory were watching a grainy image on an iPad. ‘My Stuart’s colonoscopy was clearer.’
‘Eww, you’ve seen your husband’s colonoscopy?’ Rory wrinkled his face in disgust.
‘We have no secrets.’
The car park where the laptop was stolen no longer had the footage. However, as it was a reported crime, and the case was still active, the video was still in the hands of the police. It was obvious Elizabeth’s Alfa Romeo had been the target. The hooded figure on the film entered the open-air car park, walked past several more expensive cars, then chose the 2004 Romeo. He hovered by the back of the car for a few minutes, head almost down at the ground, before swiftly smashing the back window, grabbing a briefcase, a coat, and a carrier bag of shopping, and running off into the distance.
‘Replay it,’ Sian said.
Rory started the short film again.
‘What’s in the carrier bag?’ Sian asked.
‘A few items she’d bought from Marks & Spencer. Apparently, she’d been to do a bit of shopping, then when she got back to her car, she realized she hadn’t been to the bank. She was gone less than ten minutes.’
‘Is there any chance we can zoom in on the bloke?’
‘We can, but it won’t be any clearer. Just a bigger bl
ur.’
They both squinted at the robber.
‘What do you think?’ Sian asked.
‘Well he’s slim, and tall-ish. White, I’d say. I really don’t know.’
‘Me neither.’
‘Any other cars broken into in the vicinity?’ Sian said, stepping away from the iPad and rubbing her eyes.
‘No. None. Well, not that day, anyway.’
‘So Elizabeth Ward could have been followed and the robber struck when he found the best opportunity. Any joy on the encryption?’
‘Unfortunately, yes. It turns out encryption was a polite way of saying she had a password on her laptop. As it was Ward1962, I don’t think the killer would have taken long to access her files.’
‘Bloody hell, should she be working as a probation officer?’
‘I thought that too.’
Scott came bounding into the room with a grin on his face like an excitable puppy. ‘Rory, Rory, grab your phone.’
‘Why, what’s up?’
‘Just do it, come on.’ He beckoned Rory over.
‘Whatever it is you two are doing, I don’t want to know about it,’ Sian said, putting her arms up and walking away.
Rory ran to the door, snatching his phone from his desk. Scott stopped him as they reached the corridor and held him back.
‘Just look around the corner, carefully,’ he said, almost whispering.
Rory did as he was told. He held up his phone and took a picture. ‘Brilliant. We’ve got it.’
‘Got what?’ Sian asked.
‘I didn’t think you were interested.’
‘I’m not,’ she replied, lips pursed.
‘Yes, you are,’ Rory teased.
‘Oh, all right,’ she relented, too easily.
‘Look, it’s Faith kissing Steve Harrison,’ Rory said, showing her his phone.
‘Aww, that’s quite sweet.’ Sian smiled.
‘I’m texting this to the boss. It’ll cheer her up.’