by Michael Wood
When the children, Warren aged ten and Milly aged seven, came down for breakfast, they looked with heavy frowns at the gangly detective. Who was this man and why had he spent the night on their recliner?
Alice had no idea what to say to them and stumbled her way through a statement of silences, um’s and ah’s. In the end, Joseph stepped forward and took over. Surprisingly, Alice allowed it.
Joseph bent down in front of the two frightened children who looked vulnerable and innocent in their pyjamas and dressing gowns. He lowered his voice and tried to sound soothing and calm. ‘At the moment, we don’t know what’s happening but we think your dad has been involved in some kind of accident. The reason why I’m here is to look after you all while the main police officers find out what’s going on. If there’s anything you need or anything you want to know, come and ask me and I’ll do what I can to help. Is that OK?’
The children nodded in unison. They looked to their mother who nodded and gave a painful smile, doing all she could to stop the tears from falling.
‘Right then Warren, your mum tells me you’re a very good boy and always help at mealtimes. I bet you know where all the breakfast things are don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he nodded.
‘OK. Now, you look like a Coco Pops man to me. Am I right?’ He knew one of them would like Coco Pops having seen two boxes of them in the cupboard while looking around during the hours of darkness.
‘Milly likes Coco Pops. I prefer Frosties.’
‘Cool. I like those too. Have you ever mixed them together?’
He ushered the kids into the kitchen and Alice mouthed her thanks as her emotions took over. She turned her back so nobody would see her cry.
As Alice made her way towards the hallway the front doorbell rang. She quickly wiped her eyes and turned round to look at Joseph in the doorway to the kitchen.
‘Would you like me to answer it?’
‘No, it’s OK,’ she sniffled. She looked through the spyhole. ‘It’s my sister.’ She had barely opened the solid front door before her younger sister burst into the house and grabbed Alice in a bear hug.
‘Oh my God, Alice,’ Jenny was younger, shorter, fatter, and plainer than her sister.
Alice had called Jenny last night, before she had fallen asleep, and told her the tragic news. Jenny, who was away at a wedding in Skegness, had come straight back to Sheffield.
‘I didn’t think you were coming straight back,’ said Alice. ‘What about Geraldine’s wedding?’
‘She’s got another three bridesmaids; I won’t be missed. Alice, what happened?’
Alice put her arm around her sister and led her into the living room where they could talk in private.
Joseph was torn. He wanted to listen in on the conversation. Would Alice say something to her sister she wouldn’t say to him? However, there were two children in the room behind him and it sounded like they were making a mess.
As Alice closed the door to the living room, Joseph heard her say ‘you’ll never believe what’s happened’. Joseph had started the conversation with his sister the same way a few hours earlier. But he’d just been gossiping then. He never would have said that had he been talking about the brutal murder of a close relative.
NINE
Matilda’s office was a small cubicle in the corner of the Murder Room. She liked to keep her door open so her team knew they could step in at any time to talk to her, and also so she could keep an eye on them. Usually at the start of a major investigation the Murder Room would be a hive of activity – unfortunately, being able to hear the clock ticking was not a good sign.
Through the open doorway, Matilda looked out at her team. Aaron looked strained and brooding like he had the entire world’s worries on his shoulders. She had heard Sian refer to him as John Luther but without the cool coat. This was an accurate description of Aaron Connolly. If he won the lottery he’d still have the dour face of a basset hound. Scott was on the phone, held in the crook of his shoulder while tapping away at the computer. He was a quiet man, almost monosyllabic. She wondered what it would take to bring him out of his shell. Despite him being an excellent DC he was the hardest of the team to try and get to know. Rory Fleming was his polar opposite; confident, brash, smiling, bounding around like a puppy. Matilda was surprised that Rory and Scott liked each other, yet they often went to the gym together after work. She wondered what they found to talk about, if anything.
Sian popped her head around the door. ‘Have you got a few minutes?’
‘Sure. Come on in.’
‘You looked lost for a moment there.’
‘Just thinking. What can I do for you?’
‘I’ve had forensics on the phone. They’ve not been able to get anything from the partial footprint on Kevin Hardaker’s chest.’
‘Adele said as much last night.’
‘The bullet from his chest is from a semi-automatic handgun, similar to the kind our armed officers use.’
‘A Heckler & Koch?’ Sian nodded. ‘Do we have any reports of guns being stolen or missing?’
‘None at all. I’ve run through the list of local gun owners and we’ve contacted the majority of them. They all know where their guns are.’
‘So an illegal weapon bought on the black market then?’
‘It would appear so.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yes. Uniform were called out to an RTC in the small hours of this morning off Psalter Lane. A nurse going home from the late shift was driving her Nissan and was run off the road by a man driving a black BMW. She crashed into a tree.’
‘Is she OK?’
‘Yes, she’s fine. The car was being driven way over the speed limit and the driver didn’t stop. She said it all happened rather quickly but she was sure the car didn’t have a registration plate. I’ve been in with traffic for the last hour; I’ve looked at the cameras close to Psalter Lane and a black BMW is seen speeding at the roundabout at Hunter’s Bar. It didn’t have any plates.’
‘Can the ANPR track it back?’
‘I’ve got someone working on that for me.’
‘Could you make out the driver?’
‘No. It was dark.’
‘Have any BMW’s been reported stolen?’
‘No.’ Sian shook her head. ‘What do you think – same guy?’
‘Could be.’
Sian whistled. ‘So a black market semi-automatic handgun and potentially stolen BMW. This guy means business.’
‘He certainly does.’ Matilda’s expression darkened. ‘Excellent work, Sian. Well done.’
‘You’re welcome. I’ll keep you up to date.’
Matilda’s mobile phone burst into life as Sian was leaving the office.’
‘DCI Darke,’ she answered. There was no reply but she could definitely hear breathing. ‘Hello,’ she waited, listening to the background noise. ‘Hello, is anyone there? I can hear you, you know.’ The line went dead. She was just about to pull away when the phone rang a second time. Once more, no number was displayed.
‘Yes!’ she snapped.
‘DCI Darke?’
‘Yes!’
‘Hello, I’m Alex Winstanley, the new crime reporter on the Sheffield Star. I was wondering if I could have a word.’
Matilda visibly relaxed. ‘How did you get my number?’
‘From my predecessor. Is this a good time to talk to you about the murder on Clough Lane last night?’
‘How do you know about that?’
‘Pure chance I’m afraid,’ his accent wasn’t local so Matilda guessed he’d moved to Sheffield purely for the job. That meant he would be ambitious and ruthless about getting his hands on the juiciest story, and the Clough Lane murder was certainly juicy. She had an eerie feeling they would not get on. ‘I was in A&E last night and happened to see all the commotion. Is it true you have no idea who the victims are yet?’
‘A statement will be released in good time.’ She gave the standard reply.
‘
I heard several shots were fired. Adding to this the recent spate of aggravated burglaries, in which a gun was used in at least one incident, should the people of Sheffield be worried about the rise in gun crime in the city?’
‘There is no rise in gun crime Mr Winstanley.’
‘Really? Official figures seem to show otherwise. Are you aware of an eight-year-old boy found waving a replica gun in Gleadless Valley last weekend?’
Matilda had not heard of this, not that she could let Winstanley know that. Maybe having a dedicated MIT was isolating them from the rest of CID; bringing the two back together would mean information would be passed around more freely. Bloody hell, I’m justifying the scrapping of my own department.
‘Mr Winstanley, allow me to be frank: South Yorkshire Police work very hard to keep the people of Sheffield safe. These minor incidents are being investigated by the best detectives we have. The public are under no threat from gun crime. As for the incident last night, like I said, a statement will be released in due course. Good day Mr Winstanley.’
Matilda didn’t realize it, but that statement would return to haunt her when the local paper hit the shops that evening. Before she had time to think, however, Rory burst into her office.
‘I think we may have found our mystery woman.’
TEN
Martin Craven, a short man with rapidly receding brown hair, fingernails bitten down to the quick and displaying all the tension of a bomb disposal expert on his first day on the job, paced anxiously inside interview room one. The door opening made him jump.
‘What’s going on? Why have I been left in here like this?’
Matilda and Rory entered and sat down.
‘Mr Craven, I’m DCI Matilda Darke—’
‘DCI? That’s a high rank, what’s happened? What’s happened to my wife?’
‘Mr Craven, please, sit down.’
If it was possible his face looked graver. Reluctantly he pulled out the hard plastic chair, scraping it on the floor, and sat down, straight backed and uncomfortable.
‘Would you like a tea or coffee?’
‘I don’t want a bloody drink.’ He almost exploded but managed to hold himself back. ‘I just want to know what the hell is going on.’
‘Sir, your missing person report has coincided with an anonymous woman being admitted to the Northern General last night.’
‘The Northern? Oh my God. Is she OK? What happened?’
‘I can’t tell you how she is as I don’t know yet. However, I would like to ask you a few questions. When was the last time you saw your wife?’
‘I’ve been through all this once already,’ he said, deflating in his seat. ‘Yesterday morning. I had to leave for work early so I left about 7.30. She didn’t need to be in work until later so she was still in her dressing gown at the table with the kids. I said goodbye to her and the kids and that was it.’
‘Did she arrive at work?’
‘Of course she did. I’ve already checked on that. She arrived on time, had lunch at the same time, and left at the same time. It was just an ordinary day.’
‘Was she going anywhere after work?’
Martin Craven sighed at having to repeat himself. ‘Yes. She plays tennis. She was going straight to the club from work. I was expecting her home at about 8 p.m.’
At the mention of tennis Matilda and Rory exchanged a quick glance with each other. Martin didn’t appear to notice.
‘But she didn’t come home?’
‘Well obviously not.’
‘Did you call her?’
‘Many times.’
‘No reply?’
‘None.’
‘When did you suspect she might be missing?’
‘This morning. I waited up for her. I must have nodded off in the chair. Our youngest came down at six and woke me up. Lois hadn’t come home so that’s when I realized something must have happened.’ He looked at the blank expressions on the officer’s faces in front of him, hoping to find anything there that might explain the disappearance of his wife. ‘Something has happened hasn’t it?’
‘Mr Craven, is there any reason why your wife might have been on Clough Lane last night?’
‘Clough Lane? No,’ he frowned. ‘There’s no reason at all for her to go that way. Hang on; there was something on the radio this morning about a shooting at Ringinglow. It’s her isn’t it? She’s been shot.’ Tears started to fall from his eyes.
‘Do you have a photograph of your wife?’
‘Shit,’ he said. ‘I should have brought one with me, sorry.’
‘That’s OK. Mr Craven, a woman, who we have not yet been able to identify, was attacked and shot last night on Clough Lane. She’s currently in Intensive Care. It could – and I stress could – be your wife.’
He fell forward onto the desk, buried his head into the crook of his arm and gave out a loud sob. He looked up at Matilda. ‘I want to see her.’
‘Of course. If you’ll wait here I’ll make a call to the hospital.’
‘Thank you. Look, would it be possible for me to have a drink of water or something.’
‘Certainly.’
Matilda and Rory left the room. They waited until they were out of hearing range before they began talking.
‘What do you think?’ Rory asked looking across at his perplexed boss.
‘It’s possible. We need to get him to ID her. Get a car sorted. What did you think of him?’
‘He genuinely seems concerned for his wife. He obviously cares for her.’
‘So what was she doing in a car with a married man?’
‘I hate these domestic cases. We always end up in the middle of some kind of marital dispute.’
With the amount of work she had to do Matilda should have sent Rory to the hospital alone with Martin but she wanted to go herself. Rory was right, this was a domestic case and if the mystery woman was Lois Craven then the question of what she was doing with a married man would arise. If she was having an affair, who knew about it? Did Martin know? Did he commit the attack? His reaction to seeing his wife unconscious in a hospital bed could be pivotal. She needed to see this for herself.
On the drive to the Northern General Hospital, Matilda allowed Rory to take the wheel while she sat in the front passenger seat and Martin Craven in the back. She had angled the rear-view and side mirrors so she could glance at his expressions. He sat poised in the centre of the back seat, his hands firmly clasped in his lap, fingers twitching. He looked worried; his eyes were wide and staring and he was biting down on his bottom lip. It was clear he was nervous about what he was going to find.
The doctors in Intensive Care were not happy about the intrusion from the police. Their main duty was to the well-being of their patient. A nurse with a frosty attitude led them to the private room but would not allow them to enter.
‘She is unconscious and in a critical condition. She’s lost a great deal of blood and is at a high risk of infection. Until she is assessed later by a consultant I cannot allow anyone unauthorized to enter. I’m sorry,’ she added as an afterthought when she saw the tears in Martin’s eyes.
The woman in the bed was hooked up to all kinds of machines. Wires and tubes were coming out of her nose, mouth and hands. Her head was heavily bandaged and there was thick padding to the left side of her neck. Matilda looked through the window at her without emotion. She looked as if she was sleeping and Matilda guessed she was not feeling any pain. At this stage it would be best if she remained in this condition.
Martin Craven banged on the window with fists squeezed so tight together they were almost blue. He let out an unnatural sound like a wild animal caught in a trap. Rory caught him just in time as he fell to the floor while several nurses ran to attend to him. Matilda stepped back. On the night she returned home from the hospital after her husband died she had made exactly the same noise. Almost one year ago to the day.
ELEVEN
By the time of the evening briefing at 6.30 the backgrounds of Kevin H
ardaker and Lois Craven had been established. Matilda stood at the top of the room in front of the whiteboards and looked at the half dozen officers assembled.
Matilda opened the briefing and quickly handed over to Aaron while she sat back and took it all in. She needed to know what everyone had been working on.
‘Kevin Hardaker is forty-three-years-old, married to Alice who is forty,’ Aaron began, pointing to their respective photographs on the boards. ‘They’ve been married for thirteen years and have two kids, Warren is ten and Milly is seven. Kevin worked for Currys as a sales manager. Supposedly, he’s been playing tennis several times a week after work for many years. However, according to his tennis partner, Jeremy somebody, can’t remember his surname, they stopped about six months ago. Kevin has been having an affair with Lois Craven, also a member of the same tennis club, for a little over a year. Six months ago is when it started getting serious and the tennis stopped.’
‘Did Alice know about the affair?’ Matilda asked.
‘No.’
‘Are we sure?’
‘DC Glass is pretty convinced and I thought the same when I spoke to her,’ Scott said, looking up from his pad.
‘Is DC Glass still there?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘If Alice Hardaker doesn’t need him, get him back here. We need all the help we can muster.’ Scott nodded. ‘What about this Jeremy somebody? Did he know about the affair?’
‘Yes he did. He didn’t know Alice very well, he only met her a couple of times, but he felt guilty about keeping Kevin’s secret.’
‘Not guilty enough though,’ Matilda said to herself. ‘What’s his alibi for the attack?’
‘He was in a restaurant with his wife. I’ve seen the receipt,’ Aaron said. ‘Two hundred quid on one meal.’
‘Blimey, they had more than a Big Mac then,’ Rory said.
‘OK. Has anyone spoken to Kevin’s colleagues at Currys?’