Outside Looking In

by Michael Wood

As Matilda pulled away she passed a black BMW parked a few houses down. The driver was slumped down behind the wheel to avoid being seen. Matilda seemed to be happy, smiling, joking; getting on with life as if nothing had happened. It was time to raise the stakes.

  FOURTEEN

  Driving an unfamiliar pool car with an unrecognizable smell, Rory Fleming pulled up outside the Craven home on Williamson Road. Sian suggested someone should try and talk to Jack Craven, the oldest son, and preferably alone. He was eighteen-years-old, an adult, and wouldn’t need supervision during any interview. The question was, who would talk to him? Who was on the same wavelength as a teenager? Rory hoped it was down to his youthful looks that he’d been chosen and not his child-like behaviour.

  He managed to find a parking space close to the detached house, though it was a tight squeeze; he’d have difficulty getting out. As he climbed out of the car he saw a young man heading in his direction. He was tall and skinny and had the gait of a typical student; head down, shoulders slumped, and dragging his feet. He was wearing painfully tight jeans that made his feet look huge, and an over-sized Disney jumper. Charity shop chic. His hair was in an out-of-bed style, or maybe it hadn’t been brushed in days.

  ‘Jack Craven?’ Rory called out.

  The skinny student, though on closer inspection skinny could be downgraded to gangly, stopped and turned. ‘Yeah?’

  Rory whipped his ID out of his inside jacket pocket. ‘DC Rory Fleming, South Yorkshire Police. Could I have a word?’

  ‘Is this about my mum?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He nodded. ‘I suppose.’ He headed towards the house.

  ‘How about I buy you a coffee?’

  The student, facial expression unchanged, nodded and headed back up the driveway. Rory had been a student; college then university – was he ever like that? He couldn’t remember ever dressing like he’d landed naked in a skip and put on whatever people had thrown out. Jack Craven had the dour expression of the permanently miserable. Rory expected him to look upset given what had happened to his mother, but something told him Jack always looked like a man taking the long walk to the guillotine.

  In a nearby coffee shop Rory had asked Jack to choose his poison. He opted for a large cappuccino and cheekily asked if he could have something to eat too. Rory consented, but was surprised when Jack picked up a tuna melt Panini and asked the barista for a slice of gluten-free carrot cake. Rory wondered if he could claim this back on expenses.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Rory asked once they were comfortable. Jack with his banquet, he with his medium white coffee.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘What about your brother and sister?’

  ‘They’re fine.’

  ‘Your dad?’

  ‘He’s OK.’

  ‘Have you been to see your mum?’

  ‘Dad won’t let us.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He says we’d be too upset.’

  ‘Has your dad told you everything that’s happened?’

  ‘He’s told us she was attacked.’

  ‘Has he said anything else?’

  ‘No. He doesn’t need to though. I’m not thick.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She was in a car with a man. She was having an affair.’

  ‘Do you know that for sure?’

  ‘No. Like I said, I’m not thick.’

  ‘Why would she have an affair?’

  ‘It’s what she does.’

  ‘She’s done this before?’

  ‘Yeah. More than once.’

  ‘How many times?’

  ‘Dunno,’ he shrugged. He had managed to polish off the Panini in four large bites. Judging by his skeletal frame, Rory wondered if he ever had a decent meal.

  ‘Why does your mum have affairs?’

  ‘She gets bored.’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘Dunno. Life, Dad, work, us. She keeps talking about doing some charity work, going out to Africa or joining Greenpeace or something but that’s as far as it goes. She’s too selfish to do charity work.’

  ‘Are you close to your mum and dad?’

  ‘Not really. Dad more than Mum.’

  ‘What about your brother and sister?’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Are they close to your mum and dad?’

  ‘Anna’s closer to Dad than Mum too. Thomas isn’t even Dad’s.’

  Rory’s eyes widened. He tried to hide his sudden interest but it wasn’t easy. Just when he thought this one-sided conversation was going nowhere out came this nugget of gold. ‘What?’

  ‘Mum had a one-night stand with someone from work,’ he held the large coffee cup in both hands, breathing in the strong fumes. ‘She found out she was pregnant too late to do anything about it.’

  ‘How did she know it wasn’t your dad’s?’

  ‘Dad had a vasectomy about a year after Anna was born. He only wanted one of each.’

  ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘He was fuming. He threw Mum out. He took her back after a few months of her begging. His name’s on the birth certificate too.’

  ‘Really? He’s bringing Thomas up as his own child?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Does Thomas know?’

  ‘No. I only found out by accident.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I overheard Mum and Dad arguing once.’

  ‘How do you feel about that?’

  ‘Dunno. I suppose I should respect Dad for taking on another man’s child. Not many would. Thomas was born deaf and Dad was the first of us to learn sign language. He loves him like he does me and Anna.’

  ‘What’s your home life like?’

  ‘What home life? It’s bloody depressing. Dad tries his best but Mum may as well not be there. It’s bad to say, I know, but since she’s been in hospital, it’s been lighter.’

  Rory sat in silence, trying to take it all in. Did he hear correctly or did an eighteen-year-old actually say life was better with his mother critically ill in hospital?

  ‘Cheers for the food and drink, Detective. I’ve got to get back.’

  Jack wiped his face on the napkin, and left.

  Rory, his face a massive question mark, walked slowly from the coffee shop to the car. He pulled his phone out and dialled. ‘Sian, it’s Rory. You’ve got children, right?’

  ‘So that’s what those four people in my house are. I did wonder.’

  ‘Is it possible for a man to have the snip and still have a child?’

  ‘Well it’s not impossible. There have been examples of it happening. Do I dare ask why you want to know?’

  ‘I’ve just been talking to Jack Craven. He says the youngest child, Thomas, isn’t his father’s. He’d had the snip before he was born, yet his name is on the birth certificate.’

  ‘Do you believe him?’

  ‘That’s the thing, I don’t know. He sounded convincing but how can we find out?’

  ‘Without asking for a DNA test I don’t think there is a way. I suppose we could ask a doctor how successful they are these days. How long ago was it when he had it done?’

  ‘I’m not sure. About fifteen, sixteen years ago I guess.’

  ‘Right, OK, leave it with me.’

  Before ringing off Rory filled Sian in on everything else Jack had revealed; his mother’s affairs and how the atmosphere was bleak whenever she was home.

  ‘Well that’s just given us a few more suspects,’ Sian said. ‘Martin, at a push, the son, and everyone who Lois has had an affair with. Just when we thought this case couldn’t get more complicated.’

  MYSTERY DEEPENS AS SHOOTING VICTIMS ARE NAMED

  By Alex Winstanley

  The identities of the victims of the double shooting at Clough Lane have been revealed. They are Kevin Hardaker, 43, of Broad Elms Lane, and Lois Craven, 41, from Williamson Road.

  Mr Hardaker was killed after being beaten and shot twice. Mrs Craven is still in a critical condition in h
ospital following several operations to remove three bullets and reduce swelling from her brain.

  Close friends of Lois Craven have revealed that she and Kevin Hardaker had been having an affair for more than a year. Kevin, a regional sales manager for Currys is married with two children while Lois, a college administrator, is married with three children.

  As of the incident taking place, the spouses of both victims had no knowledge of an affair, both believing themselves to be in a stable and loving marriage. Neither Alice Hardaker, nor Martin Craven were available for comment.

  A neighbour of the Hardaker family, who wished to remain anonymous, said: ‘I’m finding all this incredibly hard to believe. They’re a lovely family. You couldn’t wish for two nicer kids. It was their son, Warren’s, tenth birthday last November and they had a wonderful party. The whole neighbourhood was invited. We thought they were all very happy.’

  Giles Mitchell, a retired civil servant, lives on Psalter Lane and knows the Craven family well: ‘This is heart-breaking news. It’s the kids I feel sorry for. Lois always did her duty with those three.’

  Police are still appealing for witnesses to the shooting and are pursuing many lines of inquiry.

  FIFTEEN

  ‘Have you seen this?’

  DC Scott Andrews entered the desolate Murder Room. Someone, probably Rory, had stuck a handmade sign reading ‘Marie Celeste’ over the top of the door. He showed Sian the latest edition of the local newspaper that named the victims of the shooting.

  ‘I wondered why the phones had been busy,’ she said, scanning the article. ‘Who is this Alex Winstanley? Should we be worried about him?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I haven’t met him. He’s new so it sounds like he’s trying to make a name for himself.’

  ‘Could be dangerous. Did you get anywhere with the door-to-door statements?’

  ‘I did.’

  For the past hour Scott had been through every statement given by the neighbours of the Craven and Hardaker family.

  ‘The Cravens are a quiet family. They like to keep themselves to themselves apparently. A couple of the neighbours have said how polite and well behaved the kids are. Most of them tend to talk more about Martin Craven than they do Lois. He’s always with the children, taking them out, driving them wherever they want to go. Lois is usually spotted on her own.’

  ‘Not the motherly type then?’

  ‘It would appear not. One of the neighbours, Eva Charles, said she got the impression Martin and Lois were living separate lives.’

  ‘What gave her that impression?’

  ‘You never see them together. Lois goes to work, goes out with her mates, and comes home at any time. Martin has a routine and deals with the kids. She says you could set your watch by him.’

  ‘I wonder if Martin knew about Lois’s affair with Kevin Hardaker then.’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘Rory has just been speaking to Jack Craven. According to him, Lois has had affairs in the past. Either Martin knew about Kevin, and the others, and just let her get on with it, or—’

  ‘He finally snapped.’

  ‘Exactly. Something to think about. I’ll let Matilda know, see where she wants to go with this. What about the Hardakers?’

  ‘This is more interesting. According to the woman who lives two doors down,’ he looked in his notebook, ‘a Mrs Monica Bryce-Owens, Alice has a brother and sister; the sister is all right, but the brother comes round at all hours of the day and night. He’s often drunk and shouting. She says he’s been in prison a few times. I’ve looked him up and Lucas Branning has been in the nick three times; twice for burglary and once for car theft and drink driving.

  ‘Any history of violence?’

  ‘Well he’s not been charged with any violent behaviour, but if he’s responsible for these latest burglaries then I’d say he has a short fuse to say the least.’

  ‘I tell you what, go and see Faith in CID. She’s working on these burglaries. They’ll have been looking into everyone with a history of burglary, and that means Lucas Branning will have come up. Get a background on him and we’ll take it from there.’

  ‘Will do.’

  As he was leaving the room Sian called out, ‘Good work Scott, well done.’

  That brightened up his young face. He smiled and there was a spring in his step as he left the room.

  DC Faith Easter had once been a part of the Murder Investigation Team. She was brought in by Acting DCI Ben Hales who was filling in while Matilda was away. At first she enjoyed being part of an elite team and she was happy to be eased in gently. Her first case was a suspicious death at an eighteenth birthday party. After a short investigation, a young man admitted to spiking the drink of a girl he allegedly loved and that was that. He handed himself in, answered every question put to him and was sent to court. Case closed.

  It was the Harkness case last winter that had been the real shocker for Faith: a twenty-year-old cold case and a current murder case; tensions in the office on Matilda’s return, and the Acting DCI changing personality overnight. He had been a mild-mannered, hard-working boss until Matilda came back. He was dedicated; commanded respect and he’d received it, especially from Faith. But the threat of Matilda retaking her position as the head of the Murder Room had turned him into a tyrant and a bully.

  Faith made errors during the investigation and had questioned her position in the team. She didn’t make any rash decisions and made sure she pulled her weight until the case was solved. Then she had asked to be transferred back to CID.

  Now she was back in CID, a small fish in a very large pond, and she was content with her work.

  Scott entered the open-plan office and headed over to her. Her desk was a mess of paperwork and files. She was engrossed in something on her computer screen and didn’t notice her former teammate standing by her. Scott, who had taken a chocolate bar from Sian’s snack drawer, dropped it from a height in front of her. It made her jump.

  ‘Bloody hell, Scott.’

  ‘I’ve brought you a present.’

  She picked up the chocolate bar. ‘Please thank Sian for me,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘How do you know I didn’t buy this myself?’

  ‘Because as sweet as you are you’re very – what’s the right word? – economical with your money.’

  ‘OK you got me, but it’s the thought that counts.’

  ‘It certainly is. I shall enjoy this with a coffee later. Now, what can I do for you?’

  ‘I need to pick your brain.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s much left to pick. I’m knackered.’

  ‘These burglaries you’re working on—’

  ‘Aggravated burglaries,’ she interrupted.

  ‘Sorry, aggravated burglaries. Has the name Lucas Branning come up at all?’

  ‘It sounds familiar, let me have a look.’

  Faith, a slim woman, despite the amount of chocolate she ate, had silky dark brown hair which, today, she had neatly tied back in a loose ponytail. Her coffee-coloured skin was unblemished but did look a little dry under the fluorescent lighting. She rummaged around on her desk for a file of suspects and opened it up.

  ‘Here we go, Lucas Branning. Thirty-seven-years-old, five foot five inches tall, stocky, cropped hair, works as a part-time mechanic, foul-mouthed and a massive attitude problem.’

  ‘He sounds lovely.’

  ‘Yes. I’m hoping he’s single,’ she said, grinning. ‘Why do you want to know about him?’

  ‘He is the brother of Alice Hardaker who is the wife of Kevin who was shot dead in our double shooting.’

  ‘I heard about that. Sounds nasty,’ she shuddered, pleased that she wasn’t on this particular investigation.

  ‘Is he a potential suspect in your aggravated burglaries?’ Scott asked.

  ‘No. He has an alibi for all of them. He said he’s going straight, and, actually, it sounds like he’s managing it too. He drinks a lot so spends most of his evenings in hi
s local pub playing pool. As he’s a regular the landlord and staff know him, as do the other regulars, so they were able to confirm his alibis.’

  ‘Bugger.’

  ‘Do you really think the person responsible for these aggravated burglaries is the same one who committed the double shooting?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Guns have been used in both. Just how bad are these burglaries?’ Scott asked, his interest piqued.

  Faith slapped her hand down on top of a pile of more than twenty files, all of various thickness. ‘These are all the burglaries that have taken place in the past six months involving weapons or menaces.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘Exactly,’ she opened the top file. ‘Mr and Mrs Harrison, both eighty-six and living on Shirecliffe Road. They were forced to watch while a masked man rifled through their home. When he tried to take the rings off Mrs Harrison’s wedding finger Mr Harrison lunged at him. He’s currently in the Northern General with a broken nose, jaw and cheek bone. He may need facial reconstruction surgery.’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘He’s very lucky he’s still alive. Mrs Harrison is in bits and permanently at his bedside. They’ve been married for over sixty years, bless them.’

  She picked up another file. ‘A family of four in Darnall were tied up as a masked man robbed their home. When he didn’t find much worth stealing he took the teenage daughter, at gunpoint, to cash machines and withdrew as much money from the parents’ bank accounts as he was able. He threatened to rape her and slit her throat on more than one occasion. He returned her home unharmed. The father’s left leg was broken in three places and the five-year-old son suffered a head injury when the burglar hit him with a baseball bat.’

  ‘Jesus. He’s a real nasty piece of work.’

  ‘That’s one way of putting it. We’re lucky nobody has actually been killed yet.’

  ‘Unless he is responsible for the double shooting. He’s got a gun, he’s threatened rape. Who’s to say he didn’t stumble across Kevin Hardaker’s car and decided to rob them and it went too far? Do you have a description of him?’

  ‘Tall, well built, strong, dressed in black and masked. He’s got a strong Sheffield accent and he smokes. Not much to go on is it?’ Faith said, shaking her head.