by Michael Wood
‘I’m having trouble switching off. I’m not sleeping. Every time my phone rings, I worry it’s him.’
Matilda shrugged. ‘That’s natural. There is nothing I can say to you to make you feel better.’
‘I’d like you to tell me he’s not going to come after me again.’
‘I think he’s going to come after one of us. I just have to make sure I get to him first.’
‘What if you don’t?’
‘Then we’re both screwed.’ She took a long sip of her coffee. ‘Hang on a minute, what do you mean “again”? Have you seen him?’
Danny looked down.
‘Danny, what happened?’
‘I had a phone call. I was told to go to Weston Park to meet someone who knew the killer. I went, and I was attacked.’
‘Why didn’t you call me?’
‘I was chasing a story.’ He shrugged.
Matilda shook her head. She could hardly chastise him. She had acted on impulse many times in the past. ‘Did you get a good look at the killer?’
He paled as he remembered. ‘Tall, slim …’
‘With dark hair?’ Matilda finished the sentence for him.
‘No. He had dark red hair, a big mess of it.’
Matilda frowned. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Was he very thin?’
‘Yes. I think they call it geek-chic, don’t they?’
‘Why didn’t you report this, Danny?’
He looked sheepish. He muttered something, but Matilda didn’t hear. She asked him to repeat it. ‘I told Kate. She told me not to say anything. She said if the killer saw the police were involved, he might stop calling.’
‘Nice to see she has her staff’s best interests at heart,’ she replied with sarcasm.
‘I don’t think I’m cut out for this job.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ Matilda said, ignoring Danny. She took out her mobile and sent a text to Sian. She would have called, but she didn’t want Danny overhearing the name of the person she suspected. Within seconds, her phone beeped an incoming text. God bless Sian Mills. She showed her phone to Danny. ‘Is this the person who attacked you?’
‘Possibly. I think so.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Matilda exclaimed, sitting back in her chair. Right from the start they’d had their eye on George Appleby and had let him go. They could have prevented three other people from being killed. He’d fooled everyone.
Sian finished reading through an email. She looked up and caught Faith Easter and Kesinka Rani deep in conversation. They were speaking in hushed tones, something they had both been doing a lot of lately. Sian didn’t like that. It smacked of secrecy and segregation within the team. On the pretence of making a fresh coffee, she picked up her mug and went over to the drinks station.
‘Isn’t it a bit early to be talking about going on holiday together?’ Kesinka asked.
‘I thought that, but Steve said it would be nice to get away from being around other coppers. When we go out drinking there’s always either a uniform he knows or a detective I know propping up the bar.’
‘I can see that. Me and Ranjeet sometimes drive for miles to get a bite to eat so we won’t be interrupted by someone from work. Coppers are so thick-skinned, aren’t they? They won’t let you have a meal in peace.’
‘Thick-skinned or just plain thick, some of them.’
They both laughed.
‘So where’s he taking you then?’ Kesinka asked.
‘Not sure yet. He’s looking into a few places.’
‘So are things getting serious between you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Faith replied, trying to hide her grin. ‘I’ve been out with some losers in my time. Steve’s different. For a start, he’s gorgeous. Have you seen his smile? My God I could melt. Things have been great between us this week. You know I’m house-sitting for my aunt? Well, Steve’s been staying over too. It’s like living together. The thing is, though, he’s the first bloke who I’ve actually looked forward to being with. Do you know what I mean?’
‘Absolutely. I’m the same with Ranjeet. He’s really shy, but he’s so sweet.’
Steve entered the incident room. ‘Is someone free to chat to Karen Lacey?’ he called out to anyone. Faith immediately went red at the sight of her boyfriend and looked away.
‘I’ll talk to her,’ Sian replied quickly before anyone could get a chance. She was standing by the kettle, empty mug in hand, listening to the two love-struck DCs and she could feel her blood sugar levels rising. So much for Matilda’s talk about solving these crimes for the victim’s children. There was definitely a degree of victim apathy in the incident room.
Steve filled Sian in as they walked down the stairs together. Joe Lacey’s widow wanted to talk to someone and it couldn’t wait.
Karen Lacey stood up as Sian entered the foyer. She’d lost weight since her husband had died; she looked drawn and tired.
‘Karen, you wanted a word?’ Sian asked.
‘Yes. Is there somewhere private we can go?’
‘Erm, yes I think so. Steve, are there any interview rooms free?’ she asked the PC, who was back behind the front desk.
‘Three and four are available.’
‘Thanks. Could you bring us a couple of coffees too?’
‘No problem.’
Sian led Karen into the interview room and told her to take a seat. It hadn’t been used yet today. There was an underlying smell of cheap disinfectant and even cheaper coffee.
‘This won’t be recorded, will it?’ Karen asked nervously, looking at the recording equipment.
‘No. How are you coping?’ Sian asked, sitting opposite her.
‘I don’t know. The kids are staying with my parents in Bakewell for a while. I need to sort out where we’re going to live. We can’t stay in that house.’ Karen spoke quietly, tears welling in her eyes.
Sian gave her a sympathetic smile. A quiet knock came on the door and Steve entered with a tray of coffees. He placed them between the two and left without saying a word.
‘Would you like anything to eat?’
‘No thanks,’ Karen replied, wrapping her bony fingers around the mug. She looked freezing cold despite the fact it was finally beginning to warm up outside.
After a long silence, Sian asked. ‘Karen, what did you want to see me about?’
She cleared her throat. ‘It’s Joe. The papers are saying that whoever is going around killing people it’s because they’ve committed crimes in the past. Is that right?’
‘That’s what we’re assuming, yes.’
‘And the reason he’s doing it is because he doesn’t think they’ve served long enough sentences. Right?’
‘Again, we think so.’
‘Oh God,’ Karen cried.
Sian dug deep into her pocket and pulled out a screwed-up handkerchief. ‘Here, take this. It’s wrinkled, but it’s clean.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, wiping her nose. ‘The thing is, when Joe ran over Rebecca Branson twenty years ago, he wasn’t driving.’
‘What?’
‘I was. I didn’t have a licence. I was taking lessons, but I couldn’t actually drive. Anyway, we’d been out all night at a New Year’s Eve party and when we were going home the roads were really quiet. I said I’d drive. It would be good practice for me. I saw Rebecca run out between two parked cars. I got confused and instead of slamming my foot on the brake I pressed the accelerator. There was nothing I could do. She was over the bonnet before I could …’ Karen broke down, her loud sobs drowned out her words.
‘Take your time, Karen.’ Sian leaned forward and placed a sympathetic hand on her arm.
‘My dad was a magistrate at the time. My mum was a solicitor. Can you imagine what it would have looked like if their daughter had been convicted over a hit-and-run? Joe said he’d take the blame. It was his car. He’d say he was driving if anyone ever asked.’
‘But he’d been drinking.’
‘I know
. He was sober, we both were, but we’d been drinking since lunchtime the day before. We stopped just after midnight though, but it was still in his blood. When he went to prison, Mum and Dad told me not to have anything to do with him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t abandon him. Not just because he lied for me, but I did genuinely love him. I always have.’
‘Does anybody else know about this?’
‘No. It’s always been mine and Joe’s secret. He’s died because of me. He was murdered because of what I did. What am I supposed to do?’
Sian sighed and leaned back in her seat. ‘From a mother’s point of view, I think you should go home and be the best mother you can be to your three children.’
‘Shouldn’t I go to prison?’ she asked, wiping her nose.
Sian nodded. ‘But what good would that do? What would happen to your kids? Karen, go home, look after your children, and forget you ever came here today.’
Karen sniffled and wiped her eyes. ‘I needed to tell someone, you understand, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do. Come on, I’ll drive you home.’
Chapter Fifty-Five
Following her coffee with Danny Hanson, Matilda went back to the station. She had hoped she would feel refreshed after having some time alone. Unfortunately, that hadn’t happened. She sneaked into her office and gently closed the door behind her. It was soon flung open by Christian.
‘Adele’s been trying to get hold of you. She said your phone kept going straight to voicemail.’
Matilda dug her iPhone out of her pocket and looked at the screen. ‘The battery’s died,’ she said. She rooted around in her bottom drawer for a charger and plugged it in. ‘Did she want anything in particular?’
‘She’s done the post-mortem on Gordon Berry. There is some severe bruising to his body that looks like he was beaten,’ Christian said, reading from a notepad. ‘The bruising is relatively fresh. She thinks it was done a day, maybe two, before he was killed.’
‘That explains the disturbance at his house. Anything else?’
‘Yes. There is a nice footprint on the back of his knees. She may be able to get the print of a shoe from it. No bruising though. She’s found red dust in a head wound which she says is from a regular household brick. She seems to think he was attacked from behind, a swift kick to the back of the legs, smack on the head, and he’s rendered unconscious. Then he’s hanged.’
‘Have her check the footprint found at the Lacey’s house to see if it matches.’
‘She’s already checked.’ He smiled. ‘No match.’
‘OK.’ Matilda squeezed her eyes tightly shut and gripped the bridge of her nose. ‘If he was attacked a day or so before he was killed, then that happened before he came to the station.’
‘It would appear so.’
‘What have his colleagues said about him?’
‘Hang on. Rory, in here!’ Christian shouted over his shoulder.
Rory came bounding into the office, a silly grin on his face.
‘Tell the boss what Gordon Berry’s colleagues said.’
‘Well, Tuesday was Gordon’s forty-seventh birthday. He and a few others went out for a drink straight from work. They were in the Banker’s Draft all night, until just before midnight when they all went their separate ways.’
‘Did Gordon go home alone?’
‘Yes. He arranged to go out with a female co-worker for a meal on Friday, but on Tuesday he went home on his own.’
‘How?’
‘He walked. It wasn’t far. A few of them said he was pretty pissed but he knew where he was going.’
‘Was there anyone in the pub who he had a run-in with?’
‘No. They were a small party. They had a few drinks and a laugh.’
‘What about on Wednesday?’
‘He didn’t turn up for work on Wednesday.’
‘Why not? Did he call in?’ Matilda asked.
‘No. They weren’t surprised by all accounts. They assumed he had a massive hangover and was sleeping it off.’
‘Did nobody think to go around to see how he was?’
‘No.’ Rory shrugged.
‘KKE Engineering isn’t far from Attercliffe. It wouldn’t have taken five minutes for someone to check on him.’
‘They just thought he was hungover.’
‘So after he came to the station on Wednesday morning, where did he go until he was found hanged in the early hours of Thursday morning?’
Rory thought for a while. ‘Maybe the killer was keeping him somewhere.’
‘With his other victims he’s hanged them in their homes. Why not take Gordon back to his house and kill him there?’ Christian asked.
‘I don’t know.’ Rory shrugged.
‘I think the killer was following Gordon for the majority of the day and waited until he could strike. He’ll have gone home from his night out and found the Hangman in his house. Gordon put up a fight and managed to get away. He obviously saw the face of his attacker, which is why the killer didn’t take any chances when he found him again and murdered him as soon as possible. That’s why he didn’t cover his head with a pillowcase; because he didn’t have one on him,’ Matilda said, feeling things coming together at last.
‘The killer followed him to the walkway between the bus station and train station, knocked him unconscious, then hanged him?’ Christian said, trying to get everything straight in his head. ‘Then he called Danny Hanson and told him where he was.’
‘Exactly,’ Matilda agreed.
‘But when Gordon came into the station, why didn’t he report anything? Why did he do a runner?’ Rory asked.
Matilda was about to answer when she looked over Rory’s shoulder into the incident room. DC Faith Easter was on the phone, handset wedged between her shoulder and head, frantically scribbling down on a notepad. DC Kesinka Rani was at the murder boards, a thoughtful look on her face. DC Ranjeet Deshwal was talking to a uniformed officer at the entrance to the room.
‘Thanks, Rory,’ Matilda said.
He glanced at the DI and DCI. They obviously wanted to discuss something without a lowly DC within earshot. He gave a half-hearted smile and left, closing the door behind him.
‘Do you know what we’ve not given enough consideration?’ Matilda asked Christian once the door was closed.
‘What’s that?’
‘The possibility of two killers.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘We’ve got James Dalziel telling us the Hangman is a police officer, but I can’t get my mind off it being a vigilante killing,’ Matilda said, bridging her fingers.
‘A police officer could be a vigilante.’
‘Yes. So could someone who has been disgraced by the actions of his father.’
Christian thought for a moment. ‘George Appleby?’
Matilda nodded.
‘Why him?’
‘He lured Danny Hanson to Weston Park and attacked him.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘I’ve no idea. Maybe Danny was getting too close, too soon. Yes, the killer has been contacting Danny, feeding him information, but that’s another element of his control. He’s giving Danny what he wants him to know.’
‘The thought of two people working together to kill others is frightening,’ Christian said. ‘It’s beyond evil.’
‘I know. Christian, we need to bring George in and formally interview him. If we can break him down, we might start getting somewhere. On their own, I can’t see George Appleby or Danny Hanson being the killer. I can’t even see anyone on our team being the killer, but when you put the two together, well, who knows?’
‘Hang on, it doesn’t make any sense,’ Christian said, sitting up. ‘If the Hangman has been feeding information to Danny to print, why attack him? And why leave himself to be identified? Why not kill Danny?’
Matilda frowned. She hadn’t thought of any of that. ‘But if George Appleby isn’t the killer, why attack Danny in the first place?’
‘Be
cause … I don’t know,’ Christian struggled for an answer.
Matilda flopped back in her chair and let out a sigh. ‘I’d almost convinced myself he was the killer, then. I knew I shouldn’t have spoken to you about it.’ She smiled. ‘I still want him interviewed about the attack on Danny, though. And while you’re at it, get his alibis for the murders too. He’s too much of a loose cannon.’
‘I’ll have him brought in,’ Christian said, heading for the door.
‘Be hard on him. The time for pissing about has long gone. Oh, one more thing, keep this theory about two killers under your hat.’
Matilda spent the rest of the afternoon sitting at her desk nursing a headache. She had so many scenarios running around her mind.
When Matilda looked up from her desk she noticed the incident room was all but empty and it was dark outside. Another day had gone by and they were no closer to identifying a killer. They were, however, one day closer to ACC Masterson fulfilling her threat and bringing in someone new to oversee the case. She could certainly kiss goodbye to the Major Crimes Unit and the chance of promotion.
Matilda yawned. She should probably go home and get some sleep. If she stayed awake, however, she could achieve so much in the hours she would waste on sleep.
Chapter Fifty-Six
A shaking finger hovered over ‘send’. Eventually, it was hit and the text message was sent to five people’s mobile phones. Within seconds, across Sheffield, five people received the same message. They all looked at their phones with furrowed brows. They all had the same question: what the hell was going on?
‘I thought you said you were definitely making a decision about the carpet tonight,’ Stuart Mills said.
‘I was,’ Sian said, putting on her coat.
‘Over breakfast, you said you were not going to bed tonight until you’ve finally chosen one.’
‘I know.’