by Michael Wood
‘Maybe not her, but someone else in the station.’
‘What do you want to do?’
‘I don’t know yet. I’m going to have another word with Valerie. See what the situation is with Barnsley. We’ll go from there. Sian, throw us that bag of Minstrels, will you?’ Matilda asked. ‘Aaron, did you interview Leah?’
‘I did. She was full of remorse, kept saying she was sorry and she didn’t know what had come over her. I drove her home, but she wasn’t too keen on going inside.’
‘Why not?’ Sian asked.
‘I don’t know.’ He frowned. ‘I saw her mother-in-law looking at us through the living room window; she had a face like a slapped arse. I don’t think they expected Oliver and Leah to be living with them. It’s only a small cottage by the looks of it.’
‘Selfish cow,’ Sian said. ‘How’s Kesinka doing?’ she asked Matilda.
‘She’s OK. She’s had a scan and the baby is fine. I think she was in shock more than anything. Now, when she comes back to work, she is under strict instructions not to leave this office. She’s desk-bound until her maternity leave begins. Understood?’ There were nods of ascent from around the room. ‘Right then, as day three of the investigation comes to an end, does anyone have any idea who killed the Mercer family?’ She looked around at the blank faces. ‘Your silence frightens me. OK, the people we need to speak to are, understandably, upset, fragile. However, we need to be more active in our approach.’
‘How do you mean?’ Aaron asked.
‘For a start, I want Rachel interviewed first thing in the morning. Is she still in hospital?’
‘She is, but they want to discharge her. There’s nothing physically wrong with her and they need the bed. The problem is, what do we do with her?’ Sian asked. ‘Leah is adamant she wants to take her home.’
‘Leah doesn’t have a home at the moment. I think we’re going have to get social services involved. I don’t think Leah is in any fit state to look after a seven-year-old.’
‘She does seem very up and down with her emotions,’ Aaron commented. ‘Understandable, I suppose, given the circumstances.’
‘You want her put into care?’ Sian frowned.
‘No. Just temporary, emergency care. Once this has all died down, hopefully, Leah will be in a more stable position to care for her niece. I want Rachel’s interview a priority for tomorrow. We’ll get someone from social services to act as a responsible adult and the whole thing handled carefully. I want either Rory or Scott to interview her.’
‘Don’t you think it should be a woman?’ Christian asked, looking at Sian.
Matilda thought, briefly. ‘No. I want a DC interviewing her. I think we need to start giving Rory and Scott more responsibility.’
‘Rory’s not going to resign, is he?’ Aaron asked.
‘I’ve managed to get him to hold off on resigning until this case is resolved. Now, if we can give him more to do, allow him to stretch himself, I think it might sway him into staying.’ Matilda flicked through her notebook. ‘Also, Rory spoke to a consultant at the hospital who knew Serena Mercer quite well. He was under the impression she was being abused.’
‘Serena? Who by?’
‘Her husband.’
‘Bloody hell!’
‘I know. Now, it’s not something we can ask Leah; besides, I doubt she’d even know. So, we need to go to whoever was closest to Serena. Tomorrow, I want Leah interviewed again, but not here. I don’t think she handles the formality of a police station too well. We need to take into account the fact she’s had a massive shock. Sian, will you go to her, have a discreet chat. Find out who Serena’s best friends were, who she confided in? Then we’ll ask them about her being abused by her husband.’
‘No problem. Serena was an only child, so there was no sister for her to tell her secrets to, or anything.’
‘How about Clive? Did he have any brothers or sisters?’
‘He had two brothers,’ Aaron said. ‘One died at the age of five more than fifty years ago. The other died in 2016. He was caught up in the terrorist attack in Nice on Bastille Day. Remember, when the truck was driven into a crowd of people?’
‘Maybe Leah’s right, her family are bad luck,’ Sian said.
‘OK. What about the wedding guests? Have they all been contacted?’
‘We’ve got in touch with more than half the guests so far. They’re going to come in to provide fingerprints for elimination purposes over the next few days. It’s going to take some sorting out, though,’ Aaron said.
‘I know, but it needs doing. Aaron, you’re in charge of this, but get uniform to handle the drudgery.’
‘Thank God for that.’ He smiled, reaching out to Sian’s snack drawer and helping himself to a Viscount. ‘Finn’s gone through most of the photos but there’s a few he needs either Leah or Oliver to look at.’
‘I think probably Oliver would be the best choice for that. He’s in a more rational state at present. Have we found out anything about Jeremy Mercer?’
‘I’ve called my contact in Liverpool,’ Sian said. ‘I’d forgotten what a talker she was. I couldn’t get off the phone to her. Anyway, she’s sending someone round to his home and the hospital to interview his neighbours and colleagues. She’s going to get back to me sometime tomorrow. Now, if my phone rings, I’d be grateful if someone could answer it and take a message. If I speak to her, I’ll lose the whole day.’ She smiled.
‘I’m sorry, Sian, I seem to always be turning to you to see if certain things have been done, but did you get in touch with the GMC?’ Matilda asked.
‘Yes I did. They’ve emailed me over everything they’ve got but my email’s down, so I haven’t been able to access them yet. I’ve put the basics up on the board.’
‘As soon as it’s back up, pass them on to Scott or Rory to go through. That’s another avenue to go down.’
‘We’ve got more avenues than Sheffield at the moment,’ Christian said, looking down at his notebook.
‘I know. I said this was going to be a complex case; it turns out I was correct.’
‘You don’t know this week’s lottery numbers as well, do you?’ Christian asked.
‘If I knew, do you think I’d tell you?’ Matilda smiled. ‘Besides, you’d only waste it on hair transplants.’
There was a ripple of laughter from Sian and Aaron. Christian didn’t join in, though he did place a hand to the crown of his head.
‘Any more from forensics?’ Matilda asked.
‘The fingerprints that were found in the bedroom Rachel was sleeping in,’ Aaron began. ‘They belong to Keith Lumb.’
‘So that’s the hair and the fingerprints then? We need to find where he is if we’re saying he’s our prime suspect. I’ll go and have a word with his sister tomorrow,’ Matilda said. I’m going to be doing a lot tomorrow. Fingers crossed it’s about forty hours long.
‘But is he a prime suspect?’ Christian asked with a frown. ‘Barnsley painted him out to be a petty thief, not a triple killer.’
‘I know but we have to go where the evidence takes us. Right now, it’s all pointing to Keith.’
‘Do you think we should put out an alert? He could try to skip the country,’ Sian said.
‘I’ve thought of that, but we’ll wait until we see what the sister says. He may have been in contact with her. She could be hiding him for all we know. Aaron, did forensics say anything about those bloodstained clothes they found in the Mercers’ house?’
‘Yes, hang on.’ He placed his coffee cup on the floor and flicked through his notes. ‘I’ve got it here somewhere. Here we go: there were a few hairs on the inside of the hooded sweater. Some had roots, so they’re going to test them against the hair that was found under Serena’s fingernail. They’re really stretched at the moment as they’re testing everything found in the marquee too. Do you want me to ask them to make it a priority?’
‘Absolutely not. Do you have any idea how much they charge for a rush job?’ Matilda glan
ced out of the window and saw it was dark. ‘I think we should leave it there for now. We’ve covered a lot of ground today, but we’ve still so much to do. Go home, have a sleep. Maybe when we wake up fresh tomorrow we might have thought of something else.’
‘That’s the problem with a case like this,’ Christian said, standing up, ‘it occupies your dreams as well as your waking thoughts.’
Everyone filed out of the room, leaving Matilda alone at her desk. She watched through her open door as they turned off their computers, put on coats and left the suite, chatting as they headed for the lifts. Alone, Matilda opened her laptop and checked her emails. One stood out among the spam and newsletters – the crime scene photos from Sebastian Flowers. She opened the email, read the short message, then clicked on the attachments. There were hundreds of them.
Matilda leaned in close and looked at the scenes of carnage. Jeremy Mercer was found slumped at the bottom of the stairs, lying in a pool of his own blood. On the first-floor landing, Clive Mercer had all but bled out as dozens of stab wounds to the neck almost decapitated him. Sprays of blood hit the ceiling and the far wall. The carpet was saturated. In the glorious technicolour photographs, Clive was deathly pale as his wide-eyed blank expression looked out at her from the richness of the blood that surrounded him. In the attic bedroom, Serena Mercer was hanging half out of her bloodstained bed. The arterial spurts soaked the white cotton sheets, the sprays from the knife were high. A close-up of Serena showed her intestines hanging out of her body, spilling onto the bloody mattress like something from a sick horror movie. Matilda winced at this photo. She could understand why Lucy Dauman found the scene so difficult to process. Some crimes defied explanation. This was savage. Whoever could inflict such pain, horror, torment on another human was beyond evil. She couldn’t look at any more. She closed the file. These photographs should only be looked at when absolutely necessary.
Matilda sat back in her chair and frowned as she wondered what kind of a killer she and her team were looking for. She realized she had no idea what Keith Lumb looked like. She logged onto the PNC and entered his details. Up popped a mug shot of their prime suspect. Whatever she had been expecting, it was fair to say, she wasn’t expecting this: Keith was five foot seven inches tall, thin, with staring pale blue eyes and full lips. He looked younger than his twenty-seven years. He had the faraway gaze of a lost little boy. This was not the face of a triple killer. Yet the forensics did not lie.
Matilda’s mobile rang, making her jump. In the silence of her office, the shrill ring resounded off the walls. She looked at the display and saw it was Pat Campbell calling her. She answered, not taking her eyes from the sad expression of Keith Lumb on her laptop.
‘Pat, good evening. What can I do for you?’
‘Sally Meagan’s had another call from Carl.’
‘Oh. Same number.’
‘No. A different one. Did you manage to check the first number?’
‘I did. It was from a burner phone. No trace.’
‘No surprise there. If I give you the other number can you look it up?’
‘Sure.’
Matilda changed to a different screen on her laptop and entered the mobile number Pat gave her. ‘How is she?’
‘A wreck.’
‘Was she alone when she received the call?’
‘Yes, she was. Apparently, Philip’s hardly at home. I’m going to see him tomorrow at one of their restaurants.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t split up before long,’ Matilda said.
‘I was thinking the same. If they do, it’ll kill her.’
‘I’m afraid the second call was from another burner phone too,’ Matilda said, looking at the screen.
‘Shit. Someone’s playing with her, aren’t they?’
‘I think that’s more than likely.’
‘Why would someone be so cruel?’
‘Do you really need to ask that question?’
‘I suppose not. There are some sick bastards out there,’ Pat said through gritted teeth. ‘When we find them, I hope you throw the book at them.’
‘Does Sally really believe it’s Carl calling her?’
‘Yes, she does. She’s adamant it’s his voice.’
‘I know it sounds daft but maybe it is.’
Pat audibly sighed. ‘Sally said she’s asked him on both calls where he is, and each time, he’s hung up. Now, if it was really Carl, he wouldn’t hang up. He’d tell her.’
‘Maybe he didn’t hang up. Maybe he had the phone snatched from him.’
‘He called her mummy. If he’s alive, he’s ten years old now. How many ten years old call their mother mummy?’
‘I don’t know any ten year olds.’
‘Well my kids didn’t call me mummy when they were ten. I won’t tell you what they did call me either.’
‘So, you think it’s some kind of scam.’
‘I do. Oh, while I’m on, Mat, I was going through the file you gave me. Now, when you spoke to the kidnappers on the night of the ransom drop, you said they had Yorkshire accents. Can you remember?’
Matilda closed her eyes tight. ‘Of course I can remember. I’ve been over that night thousands of times. It never goes away.’
‘And they definitely had Yorkshire accents.’
‘They were local, yes. I’d stake my life on it. Why do you ask?’
‘Picture the scenario. You’re local. You’ve kidnapped a kid for ransom but it goes wrong. So, what do you do with the kid?’
‘Do I have to answer that?’ Matilda asked, knowing what Pat wanted to hear.
‘You kill him,’ she said abruptly. ‘Unfortunately, you’ve now got a dead body to get rid of. What do you do with him?’
‘I really wish you wouldn’t ask me these questions.’
‘You either bury him, or you put him somewhere.’
‘Where?’
‘I was chatting to the woman next door whose grandson is an urban explorer. She said Sheffield has more abandoned buildings than you’d think. She’s going to call her grandson and get me a list.’
‘Hang on, you think Carl has been killed and dumped in an abandoned building?’
‘I’m saying it’s a possibility. One that hasn’t been looked into.’
‘If there are as many abandoned buildings in Sheffield as you’re suggesting, I can’t justify sending a search team into every single one.’
‘You don’t have to,’ Pat interrupted. ‘Gwen next door said her grandson will look into some for me. He’s already been in loads. If he’d come across a body, he’d have contacted the police, so there’s probably not that many left. I might ask him to take me on one of his jaunts, it sounds fun.’
‘You bloody will not,’ Anton called out in the background.
‘Ignore him,’ she whispered.
‘Pat, please, be careful.’
‘I will.’
‘Promise me you’ll keep me informed of everything you’re doing.’
‘I will,’ she groaned. ‘I best be off, I’m getting funny looks from someone who doesn’t know how to work an oven.’
Matilda laughed. They said goodbye and Matilda hung up. She leaned back in her chair and looked at her laptop and the dead-eyed stare from Keith Lumb looking back at her.
‘You’ve never killed anyone in your life, have you?’ she said to him.
Chapter Thirty-One
Matilda was shattered. She wanted to go home, grab a book, and sit in front of a roaring fire. She pictured her living room with the red painted walls that reminded her of blood. She would need to pop along to B&Q at some point and buy some tester pots of paint. There was no way she could live with that now. It was a shame really as it looked good with her furniture. Maybe an earthy green or a deep blue.
On the drive home, Matilda wasn’t paying much attention to the roads and the traffic signs. Twice she almost went through a red light. Before too long, she pulled up, turned off the ignition and was about to climb out of the car
when she realized she’d driven to Adele’s house in Hillsborough.
What the hell is wrong with me?
She knew the answer to that. Despite saying she wanted to be alone and lock herself away from the outside world, what she wanted more than anything else was company. The massive contradiction filling her mind obviously counted for her sleepless nights and her constant headaches.
When Adele opened the front door, Matilda squinted as the warm light from within blinded her.
‘You look like you’ve been ridden hard, and put away wet,’ Adele said.
‘And on that note, I’ll be off home,’ Matilda said, turning away from the doorstep.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Come in.’ Adele grabbed her by the arm and led her into the warmth of the house.
The kitchen was bright and there was a smell of something wonderful baking in the oven. Matilda sat down at the breakfast table and had a glass of white wine placed in front of her. Now this is a home.
‘How are things?’ Adele asked, sitting opposite her.
‘You really don’t want to know.’
‘How come?’
‘It’s complex.’
‘I can imagine. The post mortems alone were a nightmare, especially Clive Mercer’s. Did Ranjeet tell you what happened?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, I didn’t think he would, actually,’ she said with a twinkle in her eye. ‘You know his head was basically only attached with a couple of tendons?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, it came off completely when he was on the mortuary table. We opened the body bag, lifted him up and the head came off. It fell onto the floor and landed at Ranjeet’s feet. I’ve never heard anyone scream like that before,’ she said, stifling a laugh.
‘Oh God. Poor Ranjeet,’ Matilda said.
They both burst out laughing.
‘I honestly thought he was going to faint,’ Adele said, wiping her eyes.
‘No wonder he was quiet.’
‘Speaking of quiet, have you found out what’s wrong with Scott?’ Adele asked, going over to the oven to see how the meal was doing.
‘Not yet. I think I know but I don’t want to say anything until he does.’