For Reasons Unknown (12 page)

It took Matilda a matter of minutes to reach her broom cupboard of an office but the news of her public outburst with Hales had already reached Fleming.

‘I heard you’ve just torn a strip off our beloved Acting DCI,’ he said with a smirk on his face.

‘Were you eavesdropping?’

He waved his iPhone at her. ‘It’s called instant messaging. Aaron was telling me all about it.’

‘There’s no wonder cases go unsolved if people are more interested in office gossip. We may as well be working in a call centre.’

‘Nah, this is much more fun. Are you going to give me all the gory details?’

‘Why don’t you log on to YouTube? Maybe Aaron filmed the whole argument and posted it online. Come on,’ she grabbed her coat from the back of her chair and walked out of the room with Rory hot on her heels.

It would have been easier and quicker to walk from the station to Waterstones in Orchard Square but they needed the car to take Jonathan to identify the dead body. The traffic was slow and, adding in the array of one-way systems, road works, and pedestrian crossings, the simple five-minute journey turned into a twenty-minute headache.

However, Matilda used the time to indulge Rory in her argument with Ben, which he lapped up like a secretary at a water cooler. She lost count of the number of times he said ‘I wish I’d been there’. As she was coming to the end of her story her phone beeped with a text message from Sian: I DOUBT HALES WILL TELL U BUT AN AUDI TT IN CAR PARK NEAR DEAD BODY BELONGS TO MATTHEW HARKNESS OF MANCHESTER. Matilda sent a quick reply before relaying the information to Rory.

‘So it looks likely the dead body is Jonathan’s brother.’

‘It would appear so.’

‘It can’t be just a coincidence can it? I mean, Matthew’s a common enough name, but is Harkness?’ Matilda asked.

‘I’m not sure. I had a teacher at school called Mrs Harkness. She was a real bitch.’

‘Did she have a son called Matthew?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Jonathan says he didn’t know where his brother was living. I’m guessing he didn’t know he was back in Sheffield either.’

‘Maybe he’d come back for the demolition.’

‘If it was you, wouldn’t you have visited your brother too?’

‘Well I would, yes.’

‘So then what happened to get himself murdered in the few hours he was here?’ She suddenly became restless. ‘Oh this is taking forever,’ she moaned at the lack of progress in the journey. She unbuckled her seatbelt. ‘You park up and join me. I’m going to walk the rest of the way. I can practically see the sodding shop from here.’

The blast of hot air from inside the shop was like a warm hug and made Matilda smile. The smell of freshly ground coffee from the upstairs café was inviting too. What could be more inviting on a freezing cold day than a hot coffee and a good book? Maybe even throw in a double chocolate muffin too.

Classic Christmas carols were quietly played throughout the store and customers talked to each other in hushed tones as they went about their book-buying business. The biography section seemed to be busy as did the crime-fiction corner. Last year she bought her husband a couple of sporting biographies and the latest John Grisham as part of their huge Christmas extravaganza. This year she didn’t have anybody special to buy for. She decided to make a point of buying Adele and Chris something expensive to thank them for all the help they’d given her this year. She’d send a card to her sister and one to her parents but that was all.

Matilda could understand Jonathan and Matthew being separated. Like them, she and her sister Harriet were completely different people. Despite there being only two years between them they had very little in common. Matilda had been career driven since leaving school with good exam grades and from an early age knew she wanted to join the police force. Harriet, on the other hand, just wanted to fall in love with a tall handsome rich man and have children. She eventually married at the age of twenty-five, but her husband wasn’t overly tall, he certainly wasn’t handsome, and he probably would have been rich had he not married her sister. Harriet now lived in a bland suburban street in Grimsby close to the coast where she worked for three days a week in a boutique and looked after her family. Very conservative.

Matilda’s parents were constantly trying to compare the two daughters, and until she met James, she was often bombarded with calls from her mother asking her why she hadn’t met a man yet. With the amount of work being piled up on her in her aim for a top job and the constant nagging from her parents, something had to give. Eventually Matilda started to screen her calls and only phoned her mother once a month. Contact with her sister was now reduced to birthday and Christmas cards. They literally had nothing in common, like Matthew and Jonathan Harkness.

‘Is there anything I can help you with?’

A member of staff wearing a Santa hat broke Matilda’s contemplation. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘You look a little lost. Is there anything specific you’re after?’

‘No. I mean, could you tell me where Jonathan Harkness is please?’

‘Jonathan?’ Stephen Egan overheard and came over to join the conversation. ‘Is there anything I can help with?’ he asked.

‘You are?’

‘I’m Stephen Egan, the manager. And you are?’

‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Matilda Darke, South Yorkshire Police. I’d like to have a word with Jonathan if I may.’

‘I think he’s in the storeroom. Wendy, would you go and get him for me please?’

The assistant looked from her boss to the detective and back again with a quizzical look before heading off in the direction of the storeroom.

‘Is there something wrong?’ Stephen asked after looking around to make sure they weren’t being overheard.

‘Not really. Well, yes and no. May I ask you about Jonathan?’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Is he all right?’

Stephen frowned. ‘All right? Yes he’s fine. Why?’

‘I don’t mean if he’s unwell or anything but is there something troubling him? Well, not troubling as such.’ She was floundering. ‘Does he have any kind of illness?’

‘I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at.’

‘I’m sorry. Is there anywhere more private we can chat?’

Stephen led the way up the stairs to his office. As they reached the top of the stairs Rory entered the shop and quickly followed them. Stephen’s office wasn’t very large, no bigger than the one Matilda was being forced to use, but it was bright and well decorated. There was a window which was clean, and the venetian blind seemed to work. Stephen took a pile of books off a couple of chairs and asked his guests to be seated. He took his usual seat behind the desk. With three of them in the room it gave a slight claustrophobic feel. Matilda wondered how Jonathan would cope when he entered.

‘What’s this all about?’

‘I don’t want to say too much at the moment but do you know much about Jonathan, about his past?’

‘You mean his parents being murdered?’

‘Yes.’

‘I know the basics. I know what Jonathan’s told me and, unfortunately, curiosity got the better of me and I read Charlie Johnson’s book.’

‘Do you know about the case being reviewed?’

‘Yes. I read about that in the paper last night.’

‘How’s Jonathan taking it?’

Stephen thought for a moment. ‘He’s no different. In a way I think he expected it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well he’s known about the house being demolished for a while now. I think he knew interest was going to be raised once again.’

‘And he’s OK with it?’

‘He seems to be.’

‘I’ve spoken to Jonathan on a couple of occasions, he seems a bit…I don’t know how to put this without sounding indelicate…’

Stephen gave a half smile. ‘You want to know if he has any mental illness.’

‘Yes,’ she said with a slight tilt of the head.

‘As far as I know he’s not. I’m sure he’s depressed, but he’s never sought medical advice that I know of. Jonathan’s a bit of a loner. He just wants to come to work, do his job, and go home again.’

‘Do you know anything about him personally?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Relationships.’

‘I’ve known Jonathan for about five years or so. In all of that time I’ve never known him mention a relationship or any friends, apart from his neighbour, Maun Barrington.’

‘Does he have Asperger’s?’ Rory asked, speaking for the first time.

‘Sorry?’ Stephen asked almost shocked by the question.

‘People with Asperger’s Syndrome find it difficult to make friends and develop relationships.’

‘I think you may be reading too much into this,’ Stephen began. ‘There is nothing wrong with Jonathan. What happened to him as a child has had a deep effect on him. We all handle situations differently and the way Jonathan is dealing with this is by playing a background role in his own life.’

‘That’s not a very healthy way to live though, is it?’

‘No it isn’t, but it seems to suit Jonathan. Surely it’s up to him how he lives his own life, or doesn’t live it.’

‘Who knows Jonathan most of all?’

‘That would be me I suppose.’

‘I don’t just mean at work, I meant in general. Is there anyone he is particularly close to?’

‘No. Like I said he has a neighbour, but she is in her sixties, I believe, so I can’t think they’d have a great deal in common.’

‘I have some delicate information for Jonathan and I’m not sure how he’ll take it. Would it be better if you stayed?’

‘Is this about the body that was found in Holly Lane?’

‘How do you know about that?’ Matilda asked almost accusingly.

‘It’s only a stone’s throw away from here. People talk.’

Matilda sighed. Bloody gossips. ‘We think it may be his brother.’

‘Oh my God,’ Stephen brought his hand up to his mouth. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Not one hundred per cent, no. That’s why we’re here. We need him to identify it.’

‘Oh God,’ he said.

‘How do you think Jonathan will react when we tell him?’

‘To be perfectly honest I don’t think you’ll get a reaction out of him. I have never seen him display any signs of emotion. Whether he goes home at night and cries himself to sleep I’m not sure, but he’s never shown his emotions at work.’

‘Is there anyone who could accompany Jonathan to identify the body?’

‘I could come,’ he answered rather quickly. ‘I mean, if he didn’t mind that is.’

Matilda wondered how Stephen could proclaim to be close enough to Jonathan to want to assist in the identifying of a dead body, yet know so little about the man. Jonathan really must play his cards close to his chest. And Matilda thought she was being guarded with her feelings!

In the bowels of the shop Jonathan Harkness was going about his business in his usual professional manner. He loved everything about books, the feel, the smell, the weight. He opened a plastic crate from a recent delivery and took out a handful of cookery books by a celebrity chef he had never heard of. He wasn’t a fan of cooking. He knew the basics so he would never starve, but he didn’t go in for messing around with herbs, spices, and he wouldn’t know what to do with a pestle and mortar. The subject of cookery may not interest him but it didn’t matter, it was still a book and it deserved his respect.

He cast his book-lover’s eye over each copy, making sure there were no tears in the cover, no dents, no creases or marks. This batch passed his test and he placed them on the trolley to take up to the cookery section.

‘Jonathan, you’ve got a visitor.’

He heard Wendy’s voice coming from somewhere but he couldn’t see her. He felt unsettled. He didn’t receive visitors at home, why should he have one at work?

‘Who is it?’

‘The police,’ she replied in a sinister voice, as if he should be guilty of something.

He closed his eyes and pictured his reading room, his happy place. Sitting alone in his leather wing chair, his feet up on the footstool, and reading a hardback crime novel. Why couldn’t that be his life? Why did he have to be a part of the real world?

‘I’ll be right up,’ he said with a broken voice.

As he marched down the corridor Ben looked at the display on his Blackberry. He had four missed calls from his wife. He pulled a crumpled packet of cigarettes out of his inside jacket pocket; only three left. He had given up smoking years ago but there was always a stray packet of fags laying around the office somewhere. This was a very stressful job; even the non-smokers sometimes gave into their urges. Everybody needed a release at some point.

He lit up as soon as he left the building and sucked hard on the filter tip. He could feel the smoke enter his lungs and his body giving in to the addictive power of the drug. He sucked again, harder this time, and felt himself become light-headed. It was a good feeling.

‘You called,’ he said into his phone when his wife answered on the second ring. He could picture her curled up on the sofa watching mindless daytime crap on the television.

‘Yes about half a dozen times.’

‘Four, actually. What’s up?’

‘Nothing. I just wanted to see what you were up to.’

‘It’s called work.’
You should try it some time.
He took another long drag on the cigarette and felt his nerves begin to settle once again. Sometimes he really loathed his wife.

‘There’s no need to snap; I was only asking.’

‘Sorry,’ he apologized, without meaning it. ‘I was in with the ACC this morning. She asked me to start preparing to hand back over to Matilda.’

‘You’re joking, surely?’

‘Nope.’

‘She’s not even considering you taking her place permanently?’

‘Nope,’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘The bitch. Do you want me to have a word with Daddy?’

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. He came very close to screaming down the phone YOU’RE FORTY-SIX YEARS OLD FOR FUCK’S SAKE. STOP CALLING HIM DADDY.

‘Ben, are you still there?’

‘Yes I’m still here and no I don’t want you calling your daddy,’ he said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

‘You’re not just going to roll over and take it are you?’

‘I have no choice.’

‘You have every choice. She practically signed Carl Meagan’s death warrant and she’s getting away with it. What about this case you’ve got on at the moment, how’s that going? Surely you’ll get some brownie points for solving that.’

‘Well it would appear my case is connected to Matilda’s case. It’s not confirmed yet but it looks like our victim could be Matthew Harkness.’

‘Who’s he?’

He gripped the phone tightly in his left hand and sucked even harder on his cigarette, inhaling as many toxins as he could in one breath. He leaned against the cold stone of the building to steady himself. How could she not know who Matthew Harkness was? He supposed that if he’d never been a guest on
Loose Women
she wouldn’t know.

‘He’s Jonathan’s brother. Remember, twenty years ago when his parents were butchered, he’s the kid who disappeared?’

‘And his body’s just been found now?’

He sighed audibly at her ignorance. ‘I’m going now, I’ve got things to do. I’ll be late home.’ He hung up without waiting for her to say goodbye. Why hadn’t being married to the daughter of a Chief Constable opened any doors for him? What did he have to do to get promoted? He was a good detective, a brilliant one in his own opinion. He kept his nose clean, obtained results and had given his father-in-law two selfish bitches for granddaughters. He could not do anything else, yet once again, he was being overlooked.

He looked at his tired reflection in the dirty window. He was fifty years old and he was beginning to lose his grip on reality. What was the point in being the good guy if it didn’t get him anywhere?

He searched through his mobile for a number he had been using a lot lately and pressed the green button to call. After three rings the voicemail kicked in. Frustrated, he sighed. He could really have done with talking to someone with intelligence right now, someone who knew the case and could tell him where to go next. He left a message.

‘It’s me. Where the bloody hell are you? Matthew Harkness has been found murdered in Sheffield. Ring me as soon as you can. I need your help.’

‘Where is everybody?’ Faith entered the room and was surprised to see only Sian in there. She was standing at the drinks station waiting for the kettle to boil.

‘You don’t want to know,’ she replied without looking up. She could smell the strong perfume before she even came in. Unconsciously she looked at the young DC and saw her eyes were red, she had obviously been crying. ‘Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?’ Sian asked in her soothing, motherly tone.

‘I’d rather have a coffee if you don’t mind? Strong, dash of milk.’

Sian smiled to herself. She wondered how long it would be before the flavoured teas went out of the window and the lure of caffeine brought her over to the dark side. Consciously, and with a hint of malice, Sian made the coffee in a generic mug reserved for visitors rather than using Faith’s own china mug with butterflies on it.

Faith took the coffee from her without saying anything and took a sip. The caffeine seemed to work immediately and she visibly relaxed. It was like a syringe full of heroin shooting up her veins.

‘Is everything all right?’

‘You don’t have to ask Sian. I know I’m not well liked in here.’

‘I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t interested.’

Neither of them acknowledged whether Faith was liked or not.

‘I think I just let everything get on top of me. DCI Hales having a go at me in front of everyone didn’t help. I’m trying my best here.’ She flicked her head back, which caused her ponytail to swish.

Sian wondered if this was just something she did to get people to sympathize with her; put on the little girl act.

‘I so want to do the right thing but there were a lot of people at the murder site to go through and it took forever to get someone at the City Hall to get back to me about the CCTV.’

‘Look,’ Sian went over to Faith’s desk and perched on the end. ‘Ignore Hales; his nose is all out of joint because Matilda’s back and he’s worried she’ll take over.’

‘Will she?’

‘That’s for the ACC to decide.’

‘What’s Matilda like to work for?’

‘A lot better than Hales,’ she scoffed, then suddenly remembered it was his protégée she was talking to. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Hales is a very good detective, but Matilda is a people person; she knows how to get the best out of her officers, well, she used to,’ she added, almost to herself.

Faith took another sip of coffee, a heavy frown on her face. ‘Sian, do you think I’m cut out for MIT?’

It was at this point Sian saw Faith for who she really was; not the brainless bimbo who had seen one too many episodes of
CSI: New York
and wanted to be a part of the glamorous lifestyle of ridding the world of crime, but an almost frightened young woman eager to please, impress, and work her fingers to the bone.

‘That’s not my place to say,’ Sian replied as magnanimously as possible. She headed back to her own desk.

‘I know, but I would really appreciate your opinion.’

‘To be honest Faith, you haven’t been here long enough to decide for yourself whether MIT is for you or not, let alone anyone else.’

‘You don’t, do you?’

‘I’m not saying that. Look, wait until this case is over with, then evaluate your own input. If you’re happy with the contribution you’ve made then so be it. Then, in the next case, go one step further and do more.’

‘I’m so green; I had no idea of the amount of repetitive work involved. It’s all, question this witness, question another witness, get everyone’s details, run a check on every single car in the car park. Before you know it a whole day has gone by and you’ve just been checking the PNC.’

‘I know. I’ve been there myself. Look, there are only so many hours in a day and you can’t solve a murder case on your own, despite what Columbo thinks.’ She wondered if Faith had even heard of Columbo. ‘Now drink your coffee and we’ll take a look at what you’ve got left to do, OK?’

Faith smiled and seemed to relax a bit more. ‘Thanks Sian.’

‘That’s OK. Now, I’ve contacted Manchester police and they’re sending a couple of uniforms around to Matthew Harkness’s apartment to see if he is our dead body. In the meantime Matilda and Rory have taken Jonathan to ID the body; Aaron is around here somewhere; I’m going to have to have a chat with him at some point today too; he seems a bit moody, but then what man isn’t? And I’ve no idea where Hales is.’ She rolled her eyes. She didn’t care where Hales was.

The door was kicked open and DC Scott Andrews entered. His face was red with anger and his blue eyes were steely and wide. He was tall and muscular, throwing the heavy door open was no problem for him and it bounced back on its hinges. ‘Two days in that fucking courtroom waiting to give evidence and the prick changes his plea at the last minute.’

‘What?’ Sian asked.

‘Daniel bloody Bishop. He’s spent two days watching the evidence mount up and realized he’s screwed so decided to plead guilty. I could have killed the little prick.’

Sian smiled; again, she had been in his position many times too. Faith was pleased Scott had returned, she would be able to team up with him and share the humiliating dressing-downs Hales gave her in front of everybody. She suddenly felt better about being in the MIT.