by Michael Wood
‘No, you’re not,’ Matilda interrupted.
‘I am. I know I’ve got a good career going on but that’s it. There’s nothing else. No partner. No family. Nothing on the horizon. It started to get to me.’
‘Is that what you want? A life similar to this Jake Skeeter?’
‘Yes,’ he said quietly with watery eyes. ‘It’s not too much to ask for, is it?’
‘No. There’s no reason why you can’t settle down. Scott, about last—’
Matilda was interrupted by the back door opening and Rory climbing into the car. He slammed the door closed behind him.
‘Bloody hell it’s cold. My nipples could cut glass,’ he said. ‘Right then, there’s been a car outside the nursing home Keith and Elizabeth’s mother is in all day and he hasn’t been there. I’ve been talking to the matron of the home, can you believe they still have matrons? Anyway, she said the only person who has been to see her recently is Elizabeth. She goes three times a week.’
‘How is the mother?’ Scott asked.
‘The same as she was last week, last month and last year.’
‘Is it true what Finn said; that Elizabeth pushed her off a balcony?’ Scott asked.
‘I guess I’ll find out the truth when I go in there,’ she replied. ‘Anything on Keith’s flat?’ Matilda asked, turning in her seat.
‘Yes. Keith’s definitely been back. It looks like he’s had a shower, change of clothes and a shave. His dirty clothes were on the floor in the bedroom. We’ve bagged them up.’
‘Anything else?’
‘No. Oh, DI Brady spoke to DI Eckhart in Barnsley. He was full of apologies. Christian got a bit annoyed with him. He said you’d be paying him a visit in a day or two.’
‘Too bloody right I will.’
‘Are you really going to go in there on your own?’ Rory asked, looking out of the window at Elizabeth’s house.
‘Yes.’
‘With a suspected triple killer?’
‘Personally, Rory, I don’t believe Keith Lumb is the killer.’
‘But the evidence …’
‘I’m aware of what the evidence says, but it seemed too obvious to me. Someone wants us to believe Keith is the killer. That’s what I’ll be finding out when I go in.’
‘But what about Elizabeth? She could be all kinds of crazy.’
‘And she lied about being at the wedding,’ Scott said.
‘I’ll be asking her about that too.’
‘Then should you really go in there alone? You don’t know what you’re going to face once that door’s closed and locked behind you,’ Rory said.
‘It has to be done this way or Keith won’t talk. What he says is likely to be the missing piece. Now, you two should make yourselves scarce. If they see me in the car with others they’ll think it’s a trap.’
‘Are you sure?’ Scott asked.
‘I’m positive. Just, keep an eye on the house.’
Hesitantly, Scott and Rory exited the car. As they slammed the doors closed, Matilda was plunged into silence. She watched through the wing mirror as the two DCs retreated to a car parked further up the road. However, for now, she was on her own.
She hunkered down in her seat and kept both eyes firmly fixed on Elizabeth’s house up ahead. The curtains were drawn. There was a faint light in the living room but the rest of the house seemed to be in darkness. She wondered what Elizabeth was doing in there. Was Keith already inside?
Matilda was reminded of the last time she sat in a car waiting for an urgent phone call. She was at the entrance to Graves Park. On the front passenger seat was a bag with two hundred and fifty thousand pounds in used notes. When the phone rang, the kidnappers would tell her where to go with the money in exchange for Carl Meagan. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out the way she had hoped. Her mind was elsewhere. Earlier that day her husband had died. The brain tumour had won and stolen James from her. She was all alone in the world. She was angry, sad, frustrated, tired, annoyed. She should have gone home straight from the hospital, but there was nobody to go home to so what was the point?
Matilda’s mobile rang, bringing her out of the dark, depressing room in her mind she often found herself edging towards. The display told her Elizabeth was calling.
‘Hello.’
‘DCI Darke? It’s Elizabeth Lumb. Keith has arrived. He’d like to speak to you.’
‘I’ll be a few minutes.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
Matilda rolled her eyes. To Elizabeth this was a chance to get the teapot out, open a packet of biscuits and sit around the fire having a good chat. Did she not realize the importance of the situation? Was she so blind as to the danger her brother was in? Or was she simply naïve? A lost, lonely woman with nothing and no one in her life; where the prospect of interrogation about three murders was seen as a pleasant way to spend a winter’s evening?
Matilda sent a text to Scott telling him she was going in. She turned her phone to silent and placed it in her inside jacket pocket. She took a deep breath and left the car.
Once outside in the chilly January evening, she turned and smiled as Scott flashed the headlights of his car. She turned back and headed for Elizabeth’s house.
Matilda was cold. Her breathing was fast and her heart was pounding in her chest. If she didn’t believe Keith was guilty of three murders, why was she so nervous? She climbed the three steps to the porch and rang the bell. There was no turning back.
Chapter Fifty-Six
The front door opened, bathing Matilda in a warm yellow glow. Elizabeth Lumb was wearing a floor-length dark red skirt. She had a heavy knitted cardigan wrapped around her. Her dark hair was flowing down her back. She had the expression of a woman with a lot on her mind.
‘DCI Darke, welcome. Please, come on in,’ she said, stepping to one side.
Matilda took a final glance at the car up ahead with Scott and Rory keeping an eye on the house before entering. She stood in the dimly lit, cluttered hallway and listened as the door was firmly closed behind her. She half expected to hear it bolted, locking her inside, but there was just the sound of the catch being dropped.
‘Keith’s in the living room. I’ve made a pot of tea,’ Elizabeth said, squeezing past Matilda and leading the way. As she brushed by, Matilda caught a hint of cheap perfume mixed with mothballs.
The living room was dark, lit only by a standard lamp in the corner. Long shadows gave the room an ominous air of mystique. Keith stood by the fireplace. He looked older than the photographs Matilda had seen of him. He had dark circles under his eyes: the effects of sleeping rough the past few days, or the grim shadow from the light.
‘Keith, this is DCI Darke. My brother, Keith,’ Elizabeth said, as if making introductions at the beginning of a party. ‘Take a seat. I’ll pour.’
Matilda sat down on the sofa but Keith remained by the fireplace. He looked calm. He wasn’t biting his lip or playing with his fingers. He wasn’t waffling his innocence or pleading his case. This seemed like a man with not a care in the world. Matilda suddenly felt frightened. Her eyes flitted between the siblings. Keith’s gaze was fixed firmly on his sister while Elizabeth set about pouring them all cups of tea.
The teapot, cups and saucers were all matching. There was a large plate in the middle of the table with an assortment of neatly arranged biscuits. She smiled as she passed each of them a cup. She was enjoying the company.
‘Before we begin,’ Matilda broke the silence, ‘I’d like to ask you, Elizabeth, once more, if you attended Leah and Oliver’s wedding on Sunday.’
She looked up from the rim of her cup. ‘No. I told you. I wasn’t invited. I sent a card.’
Matilda placed her cup on the coffee table and brought out a photograph from her pocket. ‘This is a photograph taken from one of the guests on their mobile phone. In the background you can clearly see you talking to Serena Mercer.’ She placed the picture on the table.
Both Keith and Elizabeth leaned forward for a closer
look.
She closed her eyes tight. ‘I felt so embarrassed,’ Elizabeth eventually said. ‘About a week before the wedding, I received an invitation through the post. I was invited to the reception but not the actual wedding. So I went. I got all dressed up. Did my hair and make-up. When I got there, Serena seemed surprised to see me, but not in a good way. She looked shocked. I showed her my invitation and it wasn’t anything like all the others. Someone had sent it to me as a joke.’ Her bottom lip wobbled.
‘Who would do that?’ Matilda asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you still have the invitation?’
‘No. I was so angry when I came home that I threw it on the fire.’
‘Did Serena throw you out?’ Keith asked. The first time he’d spoken. He sounded tired.
‘No. She was very kind. She offered me a drink but I just had a few sips then came home. I couldn’t believe it. I felt so ashamed.’ She pulled her cardigan tighter around her.
‘Elizabeth, can you think of anyone who would want to deceive you in such a way?’
‘No. When I got home, I started thinking, why would someone want me out of the house? I hadn’t been burgled, nobody had tried to get into the house. It just didn’t make sense. I put it down to a cruel joke.’
‘Does that sort of thing happen often?’
‘No,’ she answered quickly. ‘Well, the neighbour kids knock on my door and run away, but that’s just kid stuff. Whoever did this, had the invitation especially printed. It looked very professional. Quality paper.’
Matilda looked at Keith and Elizabeth in turn. If Keith was being framed for these murders, why? and why was Elizabeth being brought into the trap too?
‘Is the only connection your family has with the Mercers the fact that you work at the same charity?’ Matilda asked.
‘Yes. As far as I know.’
‘Keith, you’ve never been to the Mercers’ house?’
‘No,’ he said, sitting down. ‘I don’t even know where it is. Well, I do now, but I didn’t before.’
‘Have you ever met any of the family?’
‘I met Serena. A few years ago.’
‘In what context?’
He moved from the fireplace and sat on the edge of a chunky armchair. ‘I’d been sacked from this decorating job I had. I was behind with my rent and the landlord chucked me out. Elizabeth put me in touch with Serena at the charity. She helped me get my flat in Barnsley.’
‘That’s all?’ Matilda asked.
‘Yes. I probably met her three or four times, tops. I moved in and she moved on to her next charity case.’
‘Keith, be nice,’ Elizabeth chastised.
‘We have forensic evidence of you being in that house on the night of the killings.’ She dug into her pocket again and pulled out three photographs of the bloodstained clothing found at the scene. She placed them on the table. ‘Are these your clothes?’
He leaned over and looked at them each in turn, taking his time. ‘Well, yes. I mean, I have clothes like that.’
‘There were found in the Mercers’ home. As you can see, they’re covered in the blood of the victims. Your hair is on these clothes. We’ve also found one of your hairs under Serena Mercer’s fingernails.’
‘Keith!’ Elizabeth exclaimed.
‘But I’ve never been there,’ he said, visibly distressed. ‘I don’t know any of them. Apart from Serena, I could walk past them in the street and not know who they are.’
‘Then how do you account for your clothes and hair being at the scene of the crime?’
‘I can’t,’ he said, running his fingers through his hair. ‘All I can assume is that someone is trying to set me up.’
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, getting exasperated.
Matilda took a deep breath. ‘Keith, to be perfectly honest, I don’t believe you’re guilty of these murders. You were arrested for burglary and you absconded from the police station because you didn’t want to go to prison, right?’
‘Right.’
‘So, a few months for burglary against a whole life tariff for three brutal murders doesn’t make any sense. Can you tell me where you were on Sunday night?’
‘I don’t know where I was on Sunday night,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘You must have been somewhere.’
‘I was. I was here until early evening.’
Matilda looked at Elizabeth.
‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘He came asking for help. I told him, I wouldn’t call the police on him but I wasn’t hiding him. That would get me in trouble with the police too, and I—’ she stopped herself.
‘What time did you leave here?’
‘About five-ish?’ He looked to his sister for confirmation. She nodded.
‘And where did you go?’
‘I went to the bottom of the road. I caught a bus into town. I got a lift from a guy in a van to Chesterfield. He wasn’t going any further. I asked a few drivers to give me a lift but they were all going north. I wanted to go south. I found a quiet spot near the motorway services and managed to get some sleep.’
‘Did you speak to anyone?’
‘No.’
‘Did you go anywhere where you might have been caught on CCTV?’
‘I don’t think so. The bit of money I had on me I wanted to save for breakfast the next morning.’
Matilda studied Keith. He looked genuinely frightened by the situation he had found himself in. The evidence against him was undeniable. On paper he seemed to be as guilty as if he was found standing over a dead body with a knife in his hand. However, here and now, in this living room, Matilda knew she was sitting opposite an innocent man. If only she could prove it.
‘Keith, have you had anyone come to your flat lately? Any friends, or, I don’t know, a gas meter reader maybe?’
‘No. I don’t have many friends. The ones I do have, we tend to meet in pubs.’
‘So nobody comes to your flat?’
‘No.’
‘What about break-ins?’
He sniggered. ‘I don’t have anything worth nicking.’
‘Have you lent any clothes to anyone?’
‘No.’
‘So how did your clothes end up in the Mercers’ house?’ Matilda asked, raising her voice.
Keith shrugged his shoulders.
‘I’m trying to help you here, Keith, but you need to give me something in return.’
‘I don’t know what to say. If I knew something, I’d tell you. Look, I know I’m no good. I know I’ll probably end up in prison at some point or getting beaten to death by someone I owe a couple of quid to, but I am not a killer. I can look you in the eye, swear on my sister’s life, my mother’s life, that I did not kill the Mercers.’
The living room fell silent after Keith’s outburst. Matilda believed him. She just couldn’t prove it.
‘What about what happened with Tina Law?’
Keith shook his head. ‘Who’s she?’
‘An ex-girlfriend of yours. You were suspected of beating her up on several occasions.’
Keith looked perplexed. ‘I don’t know any Tina Law.’
Now it was Matilda’s turn to look confused. ‘DS Jonson from the station in Barnsley you were taken to said you were suspected of assaulting your girlfriend, Tina Law.’
‘I’ve never had a girlfriend called Tina.’
‘I’m sure he said Tina,’ Matilda said to herself. ‘I’ll have to call him.’
‘DCI Darke,’ Elizabeth said, leaning forward, ‘my brother is many things, and I’ll be the first to admit that he’s made mistakes, but one thing he isn’t and that’s a woman beater.’
‘The truth is, I’ve never hit anyone before in my life,’ Keith said.
Matilda squeezed her eyes closed. She could feel a headache coming on. Nothing seemed to be making any sense. ‘Keith, I’m going to have to take you into the station.’
‘What?’ he said, jumping up. �
��No. I can’t be done for murder.’
‘Look, from an evidence point of view, you’re our prime suspect. I need to place you under arrest.’
‘But you said yourself you believe he’s innocent,’ Elizabeth said.
‘And I do. But I can’t prove it. And neither can Keith.’
‘No. I’m not going with you.’
‘While you’re in custody, I’ll still be looking for the real killer.’
‘Can’t you do that now?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘Can’t you place him under house arrest or something?’
‘It doesn’t work like that. I’m sorry.’
‘I’m not going,’ he grabbed a poker from the fireplace and held it aloft.
‘Keith, this is not helping. You’re only going to dig yourself in deeper.’
‘Elizabeth, give me your car keys,’ Keith said, holding his shaking hand out.
Elizabeth remained in her seat. Her eyes were locked on her brother. She wanted to help but knew she would be arrested if she did.
‘Elizabeth, keys. Now!’
‘I’m sorry, Keith.’
‘Fuck!’ he yelled.
‘Keith, put the poker down. We’ll go to the station and make a statement. We’ll hold you for twenty-four hours. I’ll apply for an extension. Your solicitor will apply for bail at magistrates’ court.’
‘They won’t give me bail. I’m a triple killer, apparently. They don’t give murderers bail. Fuck!’ He kicked the coal bucket at the side of the fireplace.
Elizabeth jumped up. ‘DCI Darke, is there nothing you can do? You said you believe him. You don’t want to arrest him; I know you don’t. I can read it on your face. There’s someone out there who wants to frame him for these murders, someone dangerous enough to plant evidence. If you take my brother into the station, that’ll be it. Your boss won’t let you keep digging because they’ll believe you have the real killer. Please. I’m begging you.’
Matilda took a deep breath. She felt hot and sick. Maybe it was the heat coming from the fire and radiators. Maybe it was the oppressive atmosphere from the cluttered living room and the desperation radiating out of Keith and Elizabeth. Either way, she needed to get out of this house and she had to take someone with her.