by Michael Wood
‘He was a good father,’ she said, placing a hand on the glass. ‘It’s so incredibly cruel.’
Leah turned away and fell into Aaron. He placed his arms around her and let her sob. After a while, he pressed the switch and the curtain closed on Jeremy Mercer.
‘You’re very quiet,’ Christian said to Matilda from the driver’s seat of the pool car.
‘Yes. Just thinking,’ Matilda replied. She had her elbow on the door and was resting her head in her hand. She looked out of the dirty window at the grimy view as they headed up the A61 to Barnsley.
When Christian had left her in the station canteen, she went back to eating her soggy cornflakes and thought about the members of her team. Yes, they had a life. Yes, they worked well together, but, apart from Sian, how much did she know them, really know them? It took her a full five minutes to remember Christian’s wife’s name, and no matter how much she wracked her brain, she couldn’t recall what Aaron had called his new child.
‘This case is a real head scratcher, isn’t it? I was talking to Aaron earlier. He said the neighbours all thought the Mercers were the bees knees. Who would want to kill Britain’s most perfect family?’
‘Sorry? What?’ Matilda asked, realizing Christian had been talking.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes. Fine. Christian, how are you?’
‘How am I?’ He looked over at Matilda, slightly perplexed. ‘I’m OK.’
‘Family OK?’
‘Yes. Fine.’
‘What about the children?’
‘They’re doing OK. What’s this about?’ he asked with a nervous smile.
‘I always thought I knew my team. We don’t seem to chat much anymore, do we? We don’t go out for drinks after work.’
‘We do.’
‘Do we?’
‘Well, I’ve been out a few times with Aaron and Ranjeet. Sometimes Sian pops along.’
‘Oh.’ Matilda was slightly taken aback.
‘We used to ask you, but you always said no so we stopped asking.’
‘I see.’ Matilda looked hurt. ‘What do you talk about when you’re having these evenings out?’
‘It’s hardly an evening out; just a few drinks after work.’ He smiled.
‘OK. So what do you talk about?’
‘Nothing much. Work is off the agenda. We just chat about life in general.’
‘Huh,’ was all Matilda could reply. So, my team get on perfectly well with each other, but not with me.
‘Is this about Rory thinking of resigning?’
‘Er … yes … I suppose it is.’
Matilda had always had a problem in trusting others, in allowing them to get close. When she was younger, she decided she wanted to be a detective and that was that. She wasn’t interested in a relationship, getting married and having children, all she thought of was being the best detective she could be. When she met James, all that was thrown out of the window. There was a new purpose in her life. James showed her what else life had to offer: happiness, laughter, fun, a relationship. She could still be a brilliant detective, but she would have someone by her side too. She allowed James to be that someone. For the first time in her life, everything slotted into place nicely. She was happy.
Since his death, the walls went back up and she refused to allow anyone else in. Adele was fine. She’d known Adele for years, but anyone else, no thank you. That was the reason she didn’t go for drinks with her team after work. She was afraid of having a few too many and opening herself up, allowing others to see her vulnerable side. Maybe it was because of her icy nature that Scott was reluctant to talk to her, to share what was bothering him.
‘We’re here,’ Christian said.
‘Oh.’ Matilda looked around and saw they’d pulled up in the car park of a dilapidated building on the outskirts of Barnsley. She looked up through the windscreen. ‘This is the police station?’
‘Yes.’
She looked again at the grey three-storey building with rusting window frames. ‘No wonder Keith Lumb was able to escape.’
‘Who’s in charge here?’
‘Nigel Eckhart. He’s a DI.’
‘I don’t know him.’
‘I’ve worked with him a few times,’ Matilda said. ‘He’s a decent bloke. Hard-working. He’s had a few personal issues though recently.’
‘How come?’ he asked, looking out of the window at the building.
‘Something happened with his daughter, I think,’ she said, frowning. ‘I can’t remember what, exactly, but I know she ended up committing suicide.’
‘Really? How old was she?’
‘I don’t know. Come on, let’s see how Keith managed to escape from Alcatraz.’ She smiled, unbuckling her seat belt.
Kesinka Rani waddled down the corridor of Sheffield Children’s Hospital. The armed guard was no longer outside Rachel Mercer’s room as ACC Masterson said the cost couldn’t be justified. If the killer did come back, finger’s crossed one of the nursing staff knew a few karate moves.
She pushed open the door to find Rachel sitting up in bed eating a bowl of Coco Pops. She was wearing a pair of pink Hello Kitty pyjamas and her brown hair was tied in bunches. As soon as she saw Kesinka, she gave her a smile. It was heart-warming to see she was starting to rally round and was no longer sleeping all the time and hiding away under the blankets. Next to her was a family liaison officer.
‘How is she?’ Kesinka asked.
‘She’s fine. The doctors are wanting to release her. Physically, there’s nothing wrong with her. The only problem is, there’s nowhere for her to go.’ The FLO said, keeping her voice low.
‘There’s the sister, but I don’t think she’s in a stable condition at the moment. We’ll have to contact social services.’
‘Won’t she need to be interviewed?’
‘Yes. I’ll get something set up back at the station. I’ll give DCI Darke a call. She might be able to persuade Leah to take her.’
They both looked back at Rachel who was devouring the cereal as if it was the first meal she’d had in weeks.
‘Poor thing,’ Kesinka said, rubbing her stomach. ‘I dread to think what she saw in that house.’
The door burst open and hit the back of the wall with a bang. All three of them jumped. Rachel immediately started crying. Standing in the doorway was Leah Ridgeway.
‘Rachel, get dressed, you’re coming home with me,’ she said. Her hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail. Her eyes were wide and starry.
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible at the moment,’ Kesinka said, standing in front of Leah, blocking her view.
‘I’m her next of kin. The doctors said she’s fine to leave, so I’m taking her home.’
‘She needs to be interviewed.’
‘She’s seven years old,’ she shouted.
‘And she’s the only witness to what happened. Don’t worry, we know how to deal with child witnesses.’
‘No. I’m not having you plant ideas in her head. She’s suffered enough. She’s coming home with me.’
‘This is not helping,’ the FLO said, shielding Rachel.
‘She’s my niece. She’s all I’ve got left. I’m taking her.’ There was a catch in her throat and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. ‘Fuck.’
Rachel started crying.
Leah moved over to a chair, picked up the clothes and threw them at Rachel, telling her to get dressed.
‘Mrs Ridgeway, I think you and I should step outside,’ Kesinka said. She placed her hands on Leah’s shoulders.
‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ she said, shrugging out of the DC’s hold.
‘Daddy,’ Rachel cried from her bed, hugging the pillow.
The FLO went over to the bed and sat next to her, holding her tight to her chest.
‘Mrs Ridgeway, please,’ Kesinka said. ‘Rachel is very distressed. You’re not helping. I think we should all calm down and discuss this.’
‘There’s nothing to discuss. She’s
my family. I’m her guardian now. And I’m taking her home with me. Rachel, get dressed.’
Kesinka stepped forward and grabbed Leah by the elbow. She pulled her towards the door.
‘Don’t fucking touch me,’ Leah screamed, flinging her arms up at Kesinka, pushing her away.
DC Rani lost her footing, fell into a table and onto the floor with a heavy thud. Everyone stopped and looked around as Kesinka lay on the floor, not moving.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Matilda and Christian were shown into DI Nigel Eckhart’s office on the top floor of the draughty building. They were offered tea. Matilda was about to refuse until Christian jumped in and accepted. The man drank close to a dozen cups of tea per day.
‘I was sorry to hear about Hattie,’ Matilda said, referring to his daughter.
Nigel was a tall thin man with a shiny bald head and a long bony nose. His brown eyes were close together, and his thin lips were permanently pursed. He wore a shirt and tie with the small knot too tight under his neck. It looked painful. The shirt was frayed at the cuffs. He gave the impression of a man who lived on his nerves, forever on edge. He looked at a photograph on his desk with sadness in his eyes.
‘Thanks. So, what brings you to Barnsley?’ he asked, quickly changing the subject. ‘Let me guess, it’s about Keith Lumb, isn’t it?’
‘Yes it is,’ Matilda replied. ‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’
‘Well, I wasn’t here on the day he was arrested,’ Nigel quickly said, fingering the knot of his tie. ‘I was at a seminar in Birmingham. From what I can gather, he was placed in a cell and the door wasn’t locked properly. He saw his chance and he took it.’ He shrugged as if it was just one of those things.
‘Why wasn’t the door locked properly? Who was the duty sergeant?’ Christian asked.
Nigel let out an exasperated sigh. He swept a few files away and pulled forward the keyboard to his computer. Using a shaky index finger, he hammered a few keys, before looking up at the screen. ‘That would be Sergeant Bella Slack.’
‘Did you question her about it?’
‘Yes. She put him in cell five. Unfortunately, we have had problems with the lock on that door.’
‘So the lock was faulty?’ Matilda asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Had it been reported?’
Nigel didn’t reply. He looked from the computer screen to Matilda, to Christian, to the screen, then back to Matilda again.
‘I’m guessing that’s a yes,’ Matilda said. ‘So, the lock was reported but not repaired?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What was Keith Lumb arrested for?’ Christian asked.
‘He was caught on CCTV running away from the scene of a burglary in Dodworth. He’s known to us, so uniform went to pick him up. He was questioned and admitted a further five burglaries around the city.’
‘In what way is Keith Lumb known to you?’
‘I’m guessing you’ve seen his record. He’s done it all: theft, mugging, burglary, driving without due care and attention, driving without insurance and without a licence, drunk and disorderly, loitering with intent.’
‘Murder?’ Matilda asked.
‘Murder? God no! Well, not yet. I’m sure he’ll get there eventually.’
‘I’m guessing you’ve heard the news about a family being murdered in Sheffield.’
‘The Mercer family? Yes. I saw it in the paper this morning. Hang on, you don’t think Keith did it, do you?’
‘His DNA was found at the scene.’
‘The report said it was a massacre.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Good Lord.’
‘Did Keith ever have an accomplice?’ Christian asked.
‘No. He always worked on his own.’
‘What about family? Any next of kin?’
‘Let me have a look.’ Nigel returned to typing with one finger on the keyboard. A knock came on the door and a tired-looking woman in an oversized cardigan came in carrying a tray with three mugs of tea.
‘Lovely. Thank you,’ Christian said, leaning forward and taking the tea. ‘Does anyone here have a snack drawer?’
‘A what?’ she asked.
‘Leave it, Christian,’ Matilda said.
‘Leslie, could you ask DC Weaving to come up here?’ Nigel asked. She smiled and left the office. ‘DC Weaving is the one who interviewed Keith Lumb on the day he was arrested. He should be able to answer your questions in more detail. Now, next of kin,’ he said, looking back at the computer screen. ‘Yes, here we are. He’s got a sister, Elizabeth Lumb, who lives in your neck of the woods: Trap Lane in Sheffield.’
‘Trap Lane?’ Matilda asked.
‘Yes. You know it?’
‘Yes. It’s not far from where the Mercers were killed in Fulwood.’ Matilda and Christian exchanged glances. ‘When did Keith actually escape from custody?’
Nigel sighed again as he returned to the computer he so obviously despised. ‘Friday, the twelfth of January according to this.’
‘Two days before the murders.’
‘Are you actively looking for him?’ Christian asked, slightly annoyed with Nigel’s laxity.
‘Of course we are. We have a team watching his flat. We visited all his known haunts, talked to friends, neighbours, colleagues.’
‘He was working?’
‘Yes. He worked as a labourer, casually.’
‘What about his sister?’ Matilda asked. Her voice had taken on a sharper tone. ‘Did you speak to her?’
‘Yes. She was interviewed twice. She said she hadn’t seen her brother for weeks.’
‘And you believed her?’
‘We had no reason not to. Look, DCI Darke, it is unfortunate that Keith Lumb was able to escape from our station. However, we’re not exactly bursting at the seams with spare cash here. Look around you, the building is falling apart. Yes, I knew about the lock on the cell door. But do you have any idea how much a cell door costs to replace? We had to pay out over a million pounds last financial year in compensation to members of the public who sued for wrongful arrest, or because they said they were unfairly treated. A copper only has to look at someone the wrong way and they’re straight on the phone to a tin-pot solicitor claiming harassment. And God forbid a male officer tries to arrest a female suspect these days.’
It was the most Nigel had spoken since Matilda and Christian had arrived. His face reddened as he launched into his diatribe. He had obviously fallen out of love for the job years ago and the changing nature of society was weighing him down.
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologized, squeezing the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath. ‘An internal inquiry has been launched into how and why Keith escaped. I will accept full responsibility for whatever the outcome is.’
‘Nigel,’ Matilda lowered her voice. ‘I’m not blaming you. I know how difficult it is when you’ve got the boss on your back moaning about overtime and the cost of the department yet wanting results at the same time. We’re doing an impossible job.’
‘Tell me about it. I’ve had officers, good officers, resign because their hands are tied when it comes to dealing with some of the scum we’re struggling with. The drug dealers and the rapists out there, the real criminals, are laughing at us. Do you know how many detectives I’ve got who are on long-term sick, or seeing a therapist? All of this,’ he picked up a stack of paperwork and dropped it straight down onto his desk again, ‘is not worth the hassle.’
The three remained silent as they absorbed Nigel’s woes. A clock ticked loudly in the background. Outside, in the CID suite, a hushed silence descended.
‘Nigel,’ Matilda began, ‘do you know Keith Lumb?’
‘I don’t know him. I’ve met him a few times. I know of his track record.’
‘Do you think he is capable of murdering three people in such a frenzied way?’
‘When you’ve been in the job longer than I have, nothing surprises you anymore. If you’ve got forensic evidence
saying Keith Lumb killed three people, then that’s good enough for me. Catch him and throw the key away.’
Matilda offered a weak smile.
‘Your DI Eckhart is quite a guy,’ Christian said to DC John Weaving as they all sat in the canteen nursing another cup of tea.
‘You could say that.’ John smiled. ‘He’s a stroke waiting to happen.’
John looked like a young, fuller version of Nigel Eckhart. He was also bald and wearing a shirt and tie, but he was taller and fitter. His eyes were deep-set and had thick dark circles beneath them. He constantly played with his wedding ring. His accent wasn’t local, but his voice was deep and quiet.
‘What’s he like to work with?’ Matilda asked.
‘He’s firm but fair. He doesn’t let us get away with much,’ he said with a smile which revealed dimples in his cheeks.
‘John, tell us about when you arrested Keith Lumb.’
‘We went around to his flat in Tankersley. I knocked on the door. He answered wearing only a pair of boxers. I arrested him, told him to get dressed. He saw there was a few of us there so he didn’t even try to resist. He got dressed. I led him to the car, sat in the back with him and brought him in.’
‘Why did you go and arrest him and not uniformed officers?’ Matilda asked.
‘Because I’ve been dealing with these burglaries for months. It was my collar.’
‘So what happened during the interview?’
‘Well, he was denying it at first. He said he had alibis and then I whip out the CCTV images we’ve got of him. You could tell it was him. Then the fingerprints came back. He’d taken a glove off at the last house he did and left a print behind on a door frame. He couldn’t deny it any longer.’
‘Then what?’
‘I charged him, put him in a cell. It was getting late so he was going to spend the night here and off to magistrates’ court the following morning.’
‘Who put him in the cell?’
‘That would have been Bella Slack,’ he said with his eyes closed as he thought.
‘Did you know one of the cell doors was broken?’
‘Tell me something that isn’t broken around here.’
‘What happened when you’d found out he’d escaped?’ Christian asked, breaking off a finger of KitKat and dunking it into his tea.