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Richards and Rigby Publishing
3
Floor Muse House
Swansea Avenue
London
EC1 2BF
December 3, 2014
Dear Jonathan,
I hope this letter finds you in the best of health. As I am sure you are aware your childhood home is due to be demolished in the coming days. I have already had many journalists contact me asking if I will be willing to write a feature on the demolition and a review of the murder of your parents.
Coincidently, next summer I will be releasing a new book titled ‘Britain’s Unsolved Murders’ and will be revisiting some of the crimes I have covered in the past. Naturally I would like the Harkness killings to be at the heart of the book.
I have spent time looking online and chatting to journalists and I see you have never told your story. You must realize that yours is a story worth telling and the whole country would certainly still be interested in reading it.
For your own convenience I can be up in Sheffield in just a couple of hours and we can discuss your story and fees in person. Please contact me as soon as possible so we can get the ball rolling.
Kind regards,
Charlie Johnson
Bloody Charlie Johnson! Would he ever be free from this man? And how the hell did he know he had moved back to Sheffield?
Jonathan took Charlie’s letter into the kitchen and set fire to it over the sink. He dropped the burning sheet and watched as the paper curled and the yellow flames destroyed the neatly printed letter. He turned on the cold-water tap and flushed the scorched scraps of paper down the plughole. He knew more letters would come.
He looked at the calendar on the kitchen wall and saw the red ring he’d drawn around tomorrow’s date. He took a deep breath as he felt a tightness in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to get through this.
Tomorrow was a big day. The house he had been brought up in was being demolished. It was the end of an era and, hopefully, a chance to put the ghosts to rest.
He intended to visit the house in Whirlow and watch as it was razed to the ground. He was unsure how he would feel about it. He was never one for showing his emotions, not even in private. He doubted he would cry. There was one worry he had about tomorrow which he could not seem to come to terms with; would his brother Matthew attend the demolition? He hoped not. He was absolutely certain he couldn’t cope with seeing him again.
Chapter 6 (#u2c0f2d3c-643d-51d2-8892-56f73442f821)
Matilda Darke tried to make it out of the station without anyone seeing her. She wasn’t bothered about being accosted and forced into a hug and asked how she was feeling; she just didn’t want anyone to notice the files sticking out of the top of her bag.
As she made her way to the car park she sent a quick text to Adele apologizing for missing lunch and wondering if she was still free for a chat over coffee. The reply came almost instantly: COSTA ON DIVISION STREET. TEN MINUTES. YOU’RE BUYING. Matilda smiled to herself as she left the building. The smile dropped as she passed the Audi still in her parking space.
Costa on Division Street was in Sheffield’s City Centre, on the cusp of the student district. It was a large coffee shop with friendly baristas and comfortable seats. Adele was already waiting outside for her.
Adele Kean was the same age as Matilda, forty-one. She was a single mother with a son in his early twenties. Her short, sensible hair, and her eyes, were dark brown.
As soon as she saw Matilda she stepped forward and opened out her arms, scooping up her best friend and gripping her tight.
‘First day over with,’ she said quietly in her ear. ‘I knew you could do it.’
Matilda looked at her with a tear in each eye. ‘You knew more than me then. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve wanted to cry today.’
‘And did you?’
‘Not once.’
‘Good girl.’ Adele took a step back and held Matilda at arm’s length. ‘You look different, brighter, more relaxed.’
‘Well I don’t feel it. I actually feel physically drained. I’m shattered.’
‘No. You look years younger. There’s a sparkle in your eyes I haven’t seen in ages. Come on, let’s get those coffees and you can fill me in.’
Adele took the lead, linking arms, and heading into the warmth of the coffee shop. She went to find a seat while Matilda ordered; a large latte each, a mozzarella and tomato panini for Adele and a meatball one for herself. She slowly made her way with the drinks through the maze of armchairs to the back of the shop. Adele had already shrugged herself out of her knee-length cream duffel coat and was rubbing her hands together to warm up.
‘It’s a shame they don’t do a latte large enough to swim in,’ she said, taking the two-handled mug from the tray and cupping her hands around it.
‘I don’t know how you can drink as much caffeine as you do. I’d be bouncing off the walls.’
‘Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to drink vodka at work so I have to make do with caffeine. I need something to give me a kick when I’m elbow deep in dead bodies.’
Matilda shrugged herself out of her winter coat and hung it over the back of her chair.
‘That’s new,’ Adele said, commenting on her outfit.
‘Well I had to make a good impression for the first day back. Do you like it?’
‘It’s very professional.’
‘That’s a no then.’
‘Well it’s not what I would’ve chosen, but you look good in it.’
‘I’ve gone up a dress size.’ Matilda leaned forward and lowered her voice.
‘We all put on a bit of padding in the winter. It keeps us warm when the government runs out of gas.’
‘Well it’ll be coming off when the spring hits. Nothing in my wardrobe fits any more.’
‘Come spinning with me; you’ll love it.’
‘I seem to remember you saying that about pilates and I hated it.’
‘That was just a fad; nobody does pilates any more. So come on, let’s have all the gossip from your first day.’
‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘There must be. Is everyone pleased to see you?’
‘The ones I’ve seen are. I’m guessing the ones who aren’t have stayed out of my way. I think Ben Hales has been avoiding me.’
‘He seems to have done a good job while you’ve been away.’
‘That’s not really what I want to hear Adele.’
‘I’m not saying he’s better than you but you can’t deny he’s good at his job. He’s not got the people skills you have. I was speaking to Sian a couple of weeks ago when that body was fished out of the River Don. She was telling me how the atmosphere changes when he enters the room. He just can’t chat to people.’
‘He’s never been able to. He can’t make eye contact. I heard he only made DI because of who he’s married to.’
‘Who is he married to?’
‘Sara Monroe as was. Her father used to be Chief Constable down in Southampton.’
‘Bloody arse-licker. Have you seen the car he drives?’
‘It’s not an Audi is it?’
‘A bloody great big Audi.’
‘I thought so. It’s been in my parking space all day.’
‘Paid for by Chief Constable Father-in-law no doubt.’
Their gossiping was interrupted by a young barista bringing over their food. He looked like a student who was working part-time. Adele admired that in the young generation. As he turned to walk away she also admired his bum.
‘Adele! He’s young enough to be your son.’
‘So I can’t even look now?’
They both laughed. It almost felt like old times – before Matilda’s life fell apart.
‘I was trawling the Internet this afternoon and did a bit of digging about the Harkness killings,’ Adele said between bites. ‘There wasn’t a shortage of suspects.’
‘I know. The Harkness case really was a mammoth task. Stefan was a researcher doing something with testing on animals. He’d received death threats from animal rights groups and I’ve got a file of over thirty interviews to go through. Miranda was a GP and was setting up a clinic to help teenagers know all about safe sex. That didn’t go down too well in the local community. If I was Poirot and I wanted to gather all my suspects I’d have to hire the Crucible Theatre.’
‘I don’t envy your task.’
‘Neither do I. The problem is I feel like I have to solve this to prove myself once again. It’s like an initiation.’
‘Did Masterson actually say that?’
‘Not in so many words. What with the house being demolished tomorrow it’s back in the press and it doesn’t look good for South Yorkshire Police to have a famous unsolved case on its hands. I just don’t think I can solve it.’
‘Come on, Mat, less of the negativity. Look at yourself; you’re back at work. You’ve made it. Show them what they’ve been missing out on while you’ve been away.’
Matilda threw down the remnants of her panini. Suddenly the weight of the task was back on her shoulders. She felt the room closing in on her, the lights seemed to dim, and the background noise of a hissing coffee machine and chatting customers all mingled into white noise. She closed her eyes and took in a slow deep breath.
Adele saw the signs of an oncoming panic attack. She had been through many of these with Matilda over the past nine months. She knew the drill. She placed her coffee mug on the saucer and leaned across the table. She put her warm hand on top of Matilda’s ice-cold hand.
‘Let’s start at the 1900s. Arthur Balfour,’ Adele encouraged.
Matilda didn’t say anything. She screwed her eyes tighter and took a deeper breath. Everything went dark. The background noise of coffee drinkers chatting and the machines spitting out steam grew louder and mingled into one undefinable squeal.
‘Clear your mind Matty. Come on, Arthur Balfour.’
‘Arthur Balfour…’ she said slowly.
‘You can do this, come on. Concentrate. Arthur Balfour.’
‘Arthur Balfour, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, Herbert Henry Asquith, David Lloyd George.’ Matilda’s breathing began to steady.
‘Two more.’
‘Andrew Bonar Law and Stanley Baldwin.’ She took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Did someone have their hands around her throat, squeezing the breath out of her?
‘Another two more. Keep breathing.’
‘Ramsey Macdonald and Neville Chamberlain.’
‘Are you all right?’
Matilda took a final deep breath and felt her body relax. She slowly opened her eyes. ‘Yes I’m fine. Thank you.’
‘Don’t mention it. That therapist of yours might be a bit of a cow but she knows her stuff. Who would have thought the Prime Ministers of this country would have such an impact on mental health?’
‘It didn’t have to be Prime Ministers. It could have been anything; kings and queens, American states, anything.’
‘Doctor Who actors?’
‘I think I’d soon run out of those.’
‘How about James Bond actors?’ Her face almost lit up. ‘Though as soon as I got Sean Connery in my head I’d stop right there.’
Matilda was looking past Adele and out of the window. How could she function as a member of the police force if every time a sliver of doubt entered her head she fell into a maelstrom of panic? This wasn’t even an active case; it was a cold case that nobody expected her to solve. How would she cope under the pressure of a murder investigation in the here and now?
‘What are you thinking about?’ Adele asked.
‘I’m just beating myself up. I’m really not ready for this.’
‘Yes you are. You’re worth ten of Ben Hales. This is who you are. You’re going to get better and I’m going to help you.’
Matilda shrugged. ‘You’ve got your own life. You’ve got Chris.’
‘Chris can take care of himself. He’s a big boy.’
‘Yes and I’m a big girl…’
‘Who’s suffered a great loss,’ she interrupted. ‘There’s no shame in accepting help. Now, I will help you and not just with your panic attacks,’ she said, lowering her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard. ‘I’ll help with the Harkness case too. We’ll be like Cagney and Lacey.’
