by Michael Wood
In a statement, ACC Masterson said, ‘DCI Darke and everyone in the Homicide and Major Enquiry Team are working tirelessly around the clock to find the person responsible for these crimes. It is unfortunate a man we are keen to interview was briefly in police custody. However, a major internal inquiry has been launched and severe action will be taken once all the facts are known.’
It would appear that beneath the tinsel and glitter of a glamorous new unit, the people of South Yorkshire are no safer now than before, just a few extra million pounds poorer for having to cough up for such a prestigious unit.
‘Bollocks!’ Valerie swore as she slammed her laptop closed. She had spoken to Kate Stephenson, had a thirty-minute conversation in which she had batted back each and every backhanded comment like a Wimbledon champion. She thought Kate had understood the difficulties the force was facing in the days of stringent budget cuts, and she had betrayed her and allowed her star pupil to write such vitriol.
Valerie sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. She should have realized she was talking to a venomous reporter. If they could find any hint of bile in a story, they would run with it.
Her phone rang. She looked at it and immediately knew who would be calling. The tone sounded different, urgent, severe.
‘ACC Masterson,’ she answered.
‘Valerie.’ Chief Constable Martin Featherstone didn’t need to introduce himself. He didn’t have to. His gruff voice, which sounded like he gargled every morning with a mouthful of gravel and his distinct West Country accent, were unmistakable. ‘Once again South Yorkshire Police has made the main news headlines, and once again it isn’t about impressive clear-up rates.’
‘I have just read the story myself.’
‘I bet you have. This Danny Hanson seems to have got it in for you. Any particular reason?’
‘He’s young. He’s ambitious. We’re easy targets.’
‘Of course you are, especially when you’re handing him such award-winning stories on a silver platter. Is it true you had someone in custody and allowed him to escape so he could butcher three people?’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘So the story is a lie?’ Valerie didn’t know what to say so she remained silent. ‘I didn’t think so,’ Martin added.
‘Like it is reported in the story, I have begun an inquiry into how Keith Lumb could have escaped. There will be repercussions.’
‘Yes there will, Valerie. I trusted you to turn this force around, especially in the wake of the Rotherham abuse scandal, the Hillsborough inquiry and how do you repay me? With allowing a man to escape custody and go on to kill three people.’
Valerie didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She knew what was coming next.
‘Aren’t you due to take early retirement later this year?’
‘There’s another eighteen months, sir,’ she replied quietly.
‘Maybe we should have a serious chat when this case is resolved. It might be more prudent if you went on gardening leave.’
‘Sir.’
Valerie listened to the dial tone. She did not want her career to end like this. If she wanted to leave with her head held high, a firm handshake and a pat on the back, sweeping changes would need to be made, and she would start with DCI Matilda Darke.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
This was the life Pat Campbell missed. In her heyday she was a much-respected detective inspector with South Yorkshire Police. She was known to be a scary woman who didn’t suffer fools. If you were on her team you were there to work until the case was solved. Once she retired, all that was gone, and she was just a regular member of the public. Her days were filled with trips to the supermarket, visits to Meadowhall, coffee dates with friends and neighbours, babysitting duties for her grandchildren. Soon, the novelty wore off, and she missed the dramatic lifestyle a DI commanded.
A few years later, Anton retired too, and he immediately slipped into the comfortable cardigan and slippers routine with ease. He was content to spend his days with a newspaper, doing a crossword, watching daytime television, going for the odd game of bowls, a drive out to the countryside. He was relaxed. Pat didn’t see it that way. She saw it as the slippery slope towards the inevitable decline into old age, and she wasn’t ready for that yet.
Together, they went on holidays, but they were either too raucous for Anton or too sedate for Pat. When Matilda came knocking and asked for her help, she knew there could be only one answer – a resounding yes.
She found a parking space in Meadowhall’s underground car park and headed for the main entrance. Like most people in Sheffield, she wasn’t a fan of a shopping centre nicknamed Meadowhell. She visited once or twice each year and that was more than enough. The place gave her a headache just looking at it. It was currently the eighth largest shopping centre in the country. However, an extension of entertainment and leisure facilities was underway and would make it the fourth largest. Pat knew her days of coming here were soon at an end.
Pat found a board with a map of the stores and felt like a tourist as she tried to find the restaurant she needed. Typically, it was at the other side of the centre to where she was at. Still, it would help her achieve her ten thousand steps target. She set off at pace for Nature’s Diner.
Nature’s Diner was a chain of organic restaurants owned by Philip and Sally Meagan. It used only organic ingredients and every meal was lovingly prepared to order by their award-winning team of international chefs, according to their website. Meals with a conscience came at a price. It wasn’t cheap to eat at Nature’s Diner. Last year, Pat had dragged Anton along to one of the restaurants in Dronfield. Anton almost cried when the bill arrived.
It was still early, and the restaurant was empty apart from an elderly lady in the corner picking at a walnut salad. It was dimly lit. Each table came with a statement informing diners how the furniture was made from sustained rainforests, and how the Meagans had planted over a hundred thousand trees since they opened their first restaurant over a decade ago.
Pat waited at the bar while a waitress whose name tag said she was called Rainbow went to fetch Philip for her.
Philip Meagan was a tall and slim man. He had made a hole on his belt where he’d obviously lost weight. His shirt hung from his shoulders like a coat hanger. There was nothing for it to cling to. He was a walking skeleton. As he approached Pat, she noticed how his face was drawn and lifeless. He had the pallor of the defeated. His eyes were sunken, his mouth turned down at the sides and his cheekbones were protruding. She remembered him from the time Carl disappeared and the times he appeared in the newspaper or on television. He used to be a handsome man with a solid build, a thick mound of salt-and-pepper hair. Now, he was a ghost of his former self. His hair was thinning and completely grey.
Pat tried not to make her staring too obvious. ‘Nice to see you again, Philip.’
‘You too. Can I get you a drink? It’s on the house.’
‘I’d love a coffee,’ she said hesitantly, wondering if he would launch into a long speech about how his coffee was from a once struggling coffee grower in Kenya, who, thanks to Nature’s Diner, was now a wealthy man employing a whole team of locals, and their once poor village had been transformed into a mecca for the self-made man.
‘Instant OK?’ he asked.
‘Fine,’ Pat replied, slightly taken aback.
‘You want to talk about the phone calls, I’m guessing,’ he said as he set about making the coffee.
‘Yes. What’s your take on them?’
He visibly sighed. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Have you received any?’
‘No.’
‘Just Sally then?’
‘It would appear so.’
‘And have you been around when she’s received them?’
‘No.’
‘Do you think she’s making them up?’
He shrugged as he handed her a small cup. ‘I don’t want to think it, but I do.’
Pat took a sip of the bla
ck liquid. It was like a slap in the face. It was strong, but it was good. ‘What can we do?’
‘I wish I knew. Look, I miss Carl as much as Sally does, but she really needs to move forward. This brooding and not leaving the house isn’t doing her any good. She needs to return to work.’
‘Have you told her this?’
‘Until I’m blue in the face.’
‘What has she said?’
‘She said she can’t while Carl is missing. I’m out of ideas.’ He ran his bony fingers through his hair.
‘You need to talk to her, Philip. You need to tell her how you’re feeling.’
‘I’ve tried. She won’t listen. I try to hold her and she backs off. I offer to take her out and she refuses. I’ve suggested going on holiday and she looks at me like I’m something she’s stepped in.’ He sat down behind the coffee machine and slumped on the bar. He was lifeless.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ Pat offered.
‘Try and get her to see sense. Life hasn’t stopped for us. She needs to recognize what’s around her. I’m still here.’
‘Sorry, can I interrupt?’ Rainbow said, making them both jump. ‘Philip, but that man from the vegetable farm is on the phone and I can’t understand what he’s talking about.’
‘OK. Sorry, Pat, I need to take this.’
‘That’s OK. You go. I’ll talk to you another time.’
Pat watched as Philip headed for the office. His shoulders were slumped and he was dragging his feet. It was sad to see two once happy people suffer in this way. There was no doubt in Pat’s mind Carl was dead, but if she could find them his body, they could get through this together.
Sally Meagan stood on the doorstep of the back door and watched as Woody ran around the garden. He caught the tennis ball she threw him and brought it back, dropping it at her feet then looking up at her expectantly. He sat, tongue hanging out, and waited. Sally looked into the distance, her mind a million miles away. The phone rang, which brought her out of her reverie. She turned and went back into the house. Woody followed, soggy tennis ball in his mouth.
She couldn’t find the phone, and by the time she did, it had stopped ringing. She looked at the display but didn’t recognize the number. It rang again almost straight away.
‘I’m scared, Mummy,’ the voice said.
Sally fell against the wall in her office and slid down to the floor. ‘Carl,’ she said, tears already flowing.
‘Mummy.’
‘Where are you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What do you see? Tell me what you see and I’ll come and find you,’ she said.
‘It’s dark.’
‘Carl. I need you to concentrate.’
The call ended.
Sally screamed. It was a noise full of anger, frustration and lost hope. It scared Woody. He backed out of the room and headed for the safety of his bed.
The phone started to ring again. She looked at it and saw it was Philip calling.
‘Philip,’ she cried down the phone. ‘He’s called again, Philip. Carl’s scared. He needs me. I’m … I …’
‘Shit,’ Philip said. ‘Stay where you are. I’ll be right home.’ The panic was evident in his voice.
Sally, clutching the phone tightly, curled up on the floor as the tears refused to stop. She kept screaming and wailing as the pain ran deep. Ten minutes later, when Philip burst into the house, that’s where he found her, a bundle, a mess of emotions, on the floor.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Matilda and Sian were in her office watching the local news on Matilda’s laptop. As soon as Keith’s name was mentioned the screen filled with an image South Yorkshire Police had released to all media.
‘Police have named a person of interest in the investigation into the triple murder in Sheffield on Sunday night. Keith Lumb, twenty-seven, from Tankersley in Barnsley hasn’t been seen since last Friday. He is described as blond, of slim build, five feet seven inches tall, and has a youthful complexion. If anyone sees him they are to call 999 immediately and not to approach him as he may be dangerous.’
‘That should get the phones ringing,’ Matilda said, muting the news and sitting back in her chair.
‘You wouldn’t have thought the BBC would have allowed her to wear that shirt. You could see her nipples,’ Sian said as the newsreader appeared back on the screen.
‘Did someone mention nipples?’ Rory asked from the doorway. His eyes were wide and smiling.
‘What do you want, Rory?’ Matilda asked, closing her laptop.
‘Are you watching porn?’
‘No, we’re not,’ Sian chastised as she left the office.
‘Shame. I know a great site. It’s free, too.’
Sian left the office, giving the young DC a playful slap on the shoulder.
‘What do you want, Rory,’ Matilda repeated, firmer this time.
‘Oh. I’ve had forensics on the phone. They want to release the house. They’ve done all they can.’
‘That’s fine. Rory, do me a favour, Sian is going to interview a couple of Serena’s friends this afternoon, go along with her.’
‘Will do. I’ve got some news for you. I don’t know how you’re going to take it.’
Matilda rolled her eyes. ‘Go on,’ she prompted.
‘I showed Rachel a photo of Keith Lumb. She said she wasn’t sure as she only saw the killer’s eyes, but she doesn’t think it’s him. She said the killer had more lines around his eyes.’
‘Meaning he was older?’
‘Yes. Do you still think the crime scene is staged?’
‘I do.’
‘Even now after everything we’ve found out about Keith?’
‘If I knew that, Rory, I wouldn’t be sat here pulling my hair out. Speaking of which, have you seen Christian?’
‘Not since this morning.’
‘OK. Rory, has Scott said anything to you?’ she asked, trying to look nonchalant.
‘About what?’
‘Anything?’
‘No. Oh, well, he mentioned about me not emptying the bin in the kitchen. I’m guessing that’s not what you were thinking about.’
‘No.’ She smiled.
‘Have you got something to tell me?’ Rory asked Scott when he appeared at the door.
‘Like what?’ he asked, his eyes widening.
‘I don’t know. The boss thought you might have something to tell me.’
‘No.’
‘OK. Fair enough. I’ll be off then.’
Rory headed over to Sian and Scott entered Matilda’s office, closing the door behind him.
‘Before you say anything, Scott, I didn’t tell him. I just wanted to know if you already had.’
‘I haven’t,’ he said, sitting down. ‘I’m … I don’t know what to say or whether to even tell him. I feel sick whenever I think about it.’ He sat with his shoulders hunched and his arms folded firmly across his chest. ‘I hate all this. Why do I have to tell people? It shouldn’t be a thing in 2018 where we have to state our sexuality.’
‘Scott, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. But if you keep secrets, if you keep things bottled up, it will cause you all kinds of pain and anxiety. Trust me, I know.’
‘I’m just worried how people will react. I don’t want people treating me differently or taking the piss. I’m not strong enough or confident enough to handle things like that.’
‘I know. However, and whenever you want to do this, is up to you. I will stand by you and support you whatever you decide to do.’
‘Thank you,’ Scott said, looking up. ‘I’d better go and check on those extra phones for when the calls start coming through.’ He stood up to leave. He put his hand on the door handle then stopped. ‘Is …?’
‘Yes?’ Matilda asked when he stopped.
‘No. It’s OK.’ He smiled and quickly left the room.
Keith Lumb managed to flag down a truck on a layby on the A23 just outside of London. The driver
was a woman with a thick Scottish accent and was a fast talker. It helped pass the time and he was quite sad to leave her in Maidstone.
He treated himself to a bacon roll and a mug of tea before he tried to find someone to take him to Dover. He was so close. He finished eating, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked up. When he saw what was on the small television in the corner of the café, he almost brought his bacon roll back up again. His face was staring out at him. The police were onto him.
Keith quickly downed his strong tea and couldn’t get out of the café fast enough. He needed to get to a phone. He was beginning to regret having that haircut and a shave. He was back to how he looked when he was first arrested. The beard and unkempt hair had been a perfect disguise.
‘Elizabeth, it’s me. What’s going on?’ he whispered loudly into the phone. ‘I’ve just seen the news. I’m all over it.’
‘I know. I saw it too. I had the police round here this morning asking about you. A DCI Darke. She left me her card.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She wants to know where you are. She mentioned the Mercers. She said you were in their house on the night they were killed.’
‘What? That’s ridiculous. I don’t even know where they lived. I only met Serena a few times.’
‘Keith, what have you done?’
‘I haven’t done anything.’
‘It sounds like they’ve got evidence of you being in their house. Now, come on, tell me, what’s happening?’
Keith was silent as he tried to think. ‘Elizabeth, I swear, honest to God, I have never been in their house and I would never kill anyone. You know that. You know me.’
‘I want to believe you.’
‘Then believe me. It’s the truth. Shit!’
They both fell silent.
‘This DCI Darke, she wants me to call her if you call me,’ Elizabeth eventually said.
‘Are you going to?’
‘I don’t know. I should do. Look, why don’t you ring her yourself. Tell her you’ve never been in their house.’
‘What good will that do? They’ve got me down as a triple killer. They’ll lock me up.’