For Reasons Unknown (21 page)

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You do. Come on Maun, you’re talking to me now. You’re a very strong woman. If someone had been ignoring or bad-mouthing you for no reason you would have found out. You knew about the affair didn’t you?’

She paused. She waited until she had the courage to allow it all to come out. The strength, the energy, rose up inside her like an erupting volcano. She looked Jonathan in the eye and knew it was time to tell all. ‘Of course I knew about the affair,’ she said with an angry bitterness. ‘Peter was an excellent businessman but as a person, as a hider of secrets, he was terrible.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘I saw it in his face straightaway. I left it for a while and gathered evidence; the sudden weekend meetings, late nights at the office. He turned into a walking cliché. One night over dinner I just came out with it. He tried to deny it, obviously, but his face gave him away. That’s why he was such a terrible poker player. Every lie he tried to feed me I saw through straightaway. Then came the biggest betrayal of all; his young tart was pregnant.’

‘He told you?’

‘Oh yes. Well, he sat me down and said he had a plan. His exact words were “I have a business proposition for you my dear”. He wanted a divorce but he didn’t want any scandal, so he wanted me to file for divorce and say I had met somebody else. Can you believe that? He was the bastard yet he wanted me to become the social pariah.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said I’d think about it. He’d already given it plenty of thought; he’d put together a very attractive package to sweeten the deal.’

‘But you weren’t having any of it?’

‘Of course not,’ she blustered. ‘Did he honestly think he could treat me like that after all the years of playing the dutiful wife and attending all those dull meetings, dinner parties, conference weekends in sodding Worthing? I wasn’t prepared to be cast aside like a dirty towel. He was going to pay and I wanted more than any amount of money he was prepared to offer.’

Jonathan allowed the silence to build. ‘You killed him didn’t you?’

‘You know, cutting the brake line on a car is more difficult than the films have you believe. I looked under the bonnet of his car and had no idea what to do. It took some researching to figure out how to make it look like wear and tear. I suppose it’s much easier these days with the Internet. I got a book from the university library and ended up interfering with the brake pedal, and to make sure it worked, I sabotaged the linkage on the steering too so that, at some point in his journey, he’d lose control of the steering, slam on the brakes, which would also fail, and that would be it. He was on the Snake Pass when it happened. He went over the side and crashed into the countryside.’

‘He had a pregnant woman with him. How could you…?’

‘Hand on heart I genuinely did not know she was going to be in the car,’ she interrupted him. ‘I knew he was going to Manchester, but it was just to sign a contract. There was no reason for her to be with him. It was just a happy accident.’

‘A happy accident? My God, you’re proud of what you did.’

‘Of course I am. I was being humiliated.’

‘And what about his secretary?’

‘What about her?’

‘She was innocent in all this…’

‘Innocent? She was sleeping with a married man. How is that innocent? Since when was being a whore innocent? Whatever happened to her she deserved.’

‘I can’t believe you’ve just said that. You killed two people, three if you count the unborn baby, and you’re not even bothered about it.’

‘I had no choice,’ she stated matter-of-factly.

‘And what about Stephen. Did you have no choice there either?’

Maun fell into her armchair. There was no way for her to talk herself out of this. Her demeanour changed. She felt no emotion for her husband and his bit on the side. Jonathan, however, was a different story. She loved him.

‘Jonathan…I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s far too late for apologies. You’re a control freak. You’ve tried to control everything all your life and when anyone got in the way of what you wanted you killed them. Is there any wonder you’re on your own? You’re evil. You’re an actual psychopath.’

Jonathan calling Maun a psychopath seemed to resonate within her. The pathetic tired look in her eyes had gone and she stood up and loomed over him.

‘Well, you’d know all about that wouldn’t you?’ Her voice was quiet and deep and held a vicious bitterness.

‘What do you mean?’ Now it was Jonathan’s turn to look worried.

‘Sometimes it takes a psychopath to find another psychopath.’

‘What?’

‘Oh don’t come the innocent with me Jonathan Harkness. The clues are all there in the newspaper cuttings. I’ve read them over many, many times and I’ve spoken to people about you. I know more than you think. I know all about you.’

‘You don’t know anything,’ he said, swallowing the bile that had risen in his throat. A sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead and his hands were visibly shaking.

‘Wrong. I know absolutely everything.’

The Murder Room, the unofficial name for the Murder Investigation Team’s briefing room, was a mass of noise; several conversations going on at once between plain-clothed and uniformed officers, telephones were ringing and rapidly answered, and computer keyboards were being heavily beaten with the fast-paced fingers of the stressed-out officers.

Matilda walked to the head of the room and stood in front of the whiteboards covered in crime-scene photographs and a blown up copy of Matthew Harkness’s driving licence. By the time she turned around to face the room everyone was silent and awaiting her to begin the briefing. It felt like old times. Where was the anxiety, the fear of failure, the paranoia?

‘Good morning everybody. Nice to see you all bright-eyed and raring to go. Now, I have spent the last half an hour with ACC Masterson and we have made some decisions in how these cases are currently run. I think it is safe to say that the killer of Stefan and Miranda Harkness and Matthew Harkness is one and the same person. Also, the hit-and-run, which left Stephen Egan dead, is too much of a coincidence not to be connected, but for now it is being investigated by CID. DS Jackson is leading that case and will keep us informed. We will, however, conduct our own investigation into it and liaise if and when necessary.

‘Now, as Matthew Harkness is our more recent victim we will concentrate on his killer. I’ve been told there is no CCTV of the murder scene, but there aren’t many exit points from Holly Lane. Do we have anything at all from the surrounding area?’

Matilda looked around at the faces staring back at her. There was no nervous tension, no prickly sensation crawling up her neck, no sweaty palms, no stuttering with self-doubt, no negative thoughts, and not a single Prime Minister in sight. She could see the usual crowd, her dedicated team she could always rely on, and a few uniformed officers she remembered from before her enforced sabbatical, and plenty of new, fresh faces too. Acting DCI Hales was notable by his absence.

‘We have managed to get footage from a number of cameras in the area and there’s a team of officers going through it all.’

‘Thank you. It’s Faith, isn’t it?’

‘DC Easter, yes ma’am.’

‘I’m sorry we haven’t had time to chat yet but we will soon. In the meantime, please ignore any rumours you may have heard about me.’

Easter’s face was stony until Sian Mills laughed. The rest of the room murmured and Easter smiled, relaxing in the presence of the formidable DCI.

‘Who do we have as a suspect for Matthew Harkness?’

Sian put down her cheese salad sandwich and dusted her hands free of flour. ‘Current thinking is Jonathan may have killed him out of self-defence after Matthew attacked him. However, if we’re saying Matthew was killed by the same person who killed his parents, are we really believing an eleven-year-old could butcher his parents in such a manner?’ She pointed to the crime-scene photographs of the Harkness double murder on a separate whiteboard.

‘There’s no way an eleven-year-old could have committed those crimes,’ said DC Scott Andrews. ‘Look at the pictures of a young Jonathan; he’s a bag of bones. He looks like a good meal would kill him. There’s no way he could have overpowered two adults.’

‘So if Jonathan didn’t kill his brother then who did? Who knew he would be in Sheffield on that night?’ Matilda asked nobody in particular. This was an open discussion and she welcomed comments from everyone.

‘Maybe it was a random killing,’ Rory said taking a final swig of coffee.

‘If Matthew had been to Jonathan’s flat, beaten him, and sexually assaulted him isn’t it a bit of a coincidence that he then just happened to get himself killed in a random attack?’ Aaron pointed out. ‘This is real life, not
Emmerdale
.’

‘I really don’t think we can rule Jonathan out as a suspect,’ Sian added.

‘What is his official statement for the time of Matthew’s death?’

‘Well obviously he had just been attacked. He says he was in his flat on his own.’

‘What do the neighbours say?’ Matilda asked.

‘A neighbour saw Matthew leave the apartment building but nobody else heard or saw anything,’ Aaron said. He had been one of the officers who had spoken to everyone in the building. As the majority of the residents claimed to have heard and seen nothing, he didn’t need to consult his notebook.

‘His neighbour upstairs, Maun Barrington, bring her in, let’s have a full statement from her and get her to dish the dirt on Jonathan,’ Matilda said. ‘Faith, check to see if there have been any similar attacks recently. We need to cover every angle of this, but I’m with the majority; I don’t think this was a random attack. Did the search of Jonathan’s apartment reveal anything interesting?’ Matilda asked, looking at Sian.

‘Apart from the fact that he’s not normal,’ Rory said, concentrating on opening a Mars Bar. ‘I mean, how can you not have a TV?’

‘He doesn’t have a telly?’ Scott Andrews scoffed.

‘No. It’s just books, books, and more books.’

‘Bloody hell! Imagine a house with no background noise. I’d go mad with all that silence.’

Matilda interrupted before the discussion lost its way completely. ‘Apart from the fact he doesn’t watch
Match of the Day
, did we find anything useful?’

‘His story seems to be backed up. There were fragments of glass in the living-room carpet and specks of Jonathan’s blood. Matthew’s fingerprints are all over the living room too,’ Sian said.

‘What about his bedroom?’

Sian was just about to put the last bite of her sandwich in her mouth when Matilda asked a follow-up question. She placed it back into the plastic box she had brought it in and picked up her notebook. ‘No. Just Jonathan’s in there. It looks like the sexual attack took place in the living room.’

‘Did we go through his bins?’

‘We did. Nothing unusual in there either; empty tins, used tea bags, deodorant can, old razor blades, etc. Nothing out of the ordinary.’ She quickly ate the last bite of sandwich.

‘So, on the basis of Jonathan’s story being true and Matthew sexually assaulting him in his own home, are we going down the route of Jonathan following Matthew and killing him in an act of self-defence?’

‘I think we have to, unless Matthew had an enemy in Manchester who followed him to Sheffield.’

‘Please don’t complicate matters any further Sian,’ Aaron said, rubbing his temples.

‘Not a bad question though Sian. Get back on to Manchester police and ask them to delve into his life a bit more. Oh, did you get in touch with Charlie Johnson?’

‘I called his agent yesterday. She says he’s away finishing his next book due out next summer. Apparently she’s tried to contact him herself but hasn’t been able to locate him.’

‘Is this something we should be worried about?’

‘His agent isn’t worried. She says a lot of writers go off the radar when they’re putting the finishing touches to a book.’

‘Right. Well keep trying. I want a word with him.’

The atmosphere in the room suddenly darkened. Matilda saw Ben Hales enter before anyone else did, but the look on her face told them something was horribly wrong. Everyone turned to look at the doorway. He perched on the edge of the nearest desk and looked to Matilda with a smirk on his face. He was unshaven and his hair was an unruly mess. His eyes looked dull and the bags underneath were noticeably bigger than they were yesterday. Maybe he hadn’t had the much-needed sleep she’d had. She smiled to herself as she considered sending Adele round to help him out.

The silence dragged on and the oppressive tension was felt by everyone. Aaron nudged Sian, prompting her to say something, do something to lighten the mood, move the situation along, but Sian was struck dumb.

‘Right, I think we’ve covered just about everything,’ Matilda stuttered. She was just about to recite the names of British Prime Ministers from the beginning of the twentieth century when she stopped herself. Hales was not worth the anxiety. ‘So, does anyone have any questions?’

‘Are you taking the kid gloves off?’ Hales asked. His voice resounded off the walls and everyone held their breath. Hales was covering the only exit to the room. Matilda was at the top, everybody else was in the crossfire.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Are you still treating Jonathan Harkness like he’s made of glass or are you finally looking at him as the key to this whole affair?’

‘In what way is he the key?’ Matilda asked, folding her arms so nobody would see her shaking hands.

‘Well, we can definitely get him on killing his brother for a start…’

Matilda interrupted. ‘I will be interviewing Jonathan later today and putting questions to him about his brother’s death.’

‘What?’ Hales’s voice rose and he spat his question out like he would a hot chip. ‘You’ll be putting questions to him? Over tea and scones presumably.’

‘Whether Jonathan killed his brother or not we still have to take into consideration his anxiety disorder and treat him accordingly.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ He rolled his eyes.

‘Perhaps we can continue this chat in the office, Acting DCI Hales.’ Ben didn’t say anything, just walked past her into the small office at the back of the room. ‘Don’t go anywhere Sian,’ Matilda said to her quietly in her ear as she followed him.

Matilda closed the door behind her, and, this time, she pulled the blind halfway down. ‘Do you have a problem?’

‘Yes I do. I have a problem with you and your so-called leadership. Can’t you see behind the fake anxieties? He’s using it as an excuse to avoid questioning. Anyone can fake a panic attack for fuck’s sake.’

‘You have to look at the bigger picture. If he is faking them he has been putting on an act for the majority of his life. He’ll be good at it by now and won’t just drop it if you go in with all guns blazing.’

‘You’re going about this completely the wrong way.’

‘Do you ever wonder why you haven’t gone further than a DI?’ Matilda surprised herself by her sudden exclamation. ‘It’s not just the results; it’s how you go about getting them. It’s opening your eyes and your mind. Yes, I have considered Jonathan may be faking his anxiety but I cannot risk going in like a wrecking ball and him shutting down completely. If I charge him with murder he’ll probably get a bloody good solicitor who’ll get a doctor to confirm his illness and the whole thing won’t ever see a courtroom. Oh, and while we’re on the subject of handling people, you also need to connect with your team too.’

‘What?’

‘What’s Sian’s husband called?’

‘What?’ He looked confused.

‘How many children does she have? What’s Rory’s relationship status? When is Aaron’s birthday? What rumours about Scott are going around? You need respect and support from your team and you only get that by talking to them, interacting with them, and getting to know them.’

Hales was speechless. He looked at Matilda with wide eyes, but they weren’t the wide steely eyes of an enraged man, they were sad. Matilda’s confidence had come from nowhere. He didn’t hate her, he was jealous of her. He quickly turned on his heels, pulled open the door, and stormed out.

Matilda wasn’t the type of person to ridicule and mock and gloat at the suffering of another person. ‘We’ve all got jobs to do now let’s get on with them,’ she said quietly to a room of open-mouthed gawkers.

Slowly, the Murder Room returned to normal and the chattering began once more.

Matilda sat down behind the desk and pulled the nearest file to her. She opened it and stared at the top page, not reading the information. She just wanted to look busy while she calmed down. She sat on her hands and took several deep breaths.

‘I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see these or not,’ Sian said, walking up to the desk Matilda was temporarily using.

‘What is it?’ she asked, not looking up from the file she was pretending to study.

‘When Hales was interviewing Jonathan he had a load of paperwork he’d managed to get from somewhere. I’ve just picked it up off his desk.’

Now she had Matilda’s interest. ‘What is it?’

‘Witness statements.’

Matilda’s eyes widened. For a split second she thought they were original witness statements from twenty years ago that Ben had stolen from the files, but as Sian placed them in front of her she saw them as dated just a couple of days ago. She picked them up and quickly skimmed through them.

‘He’s been running his own investigation,’ she said with amazement.

‘No wonder he’s not been around here much lately. The last couple of pages will interest you.’

Matilda flicked to the back and just read the title. ‘A psychiatric report on Jonathan Harkness by Charlie Johnson.’ She was visibly shocked. ‘What the hell? He’s a journalist isn’t he? What does he know about psychology?’

‘I’ve no idea. It’s basic Wikipedia stuff anyway.’

‘And Ben was actually using this as evidence against Jonathan?’

‘It would appear so.’

‘Bloody hell. What’s wrong with him?’ The question was rhetorical. Matilda sat back in her seat. ‘Right, Sian, find out all you can about Charlie Johnson. Get back on to his agent and really get the full story on him. I want to know what he’s playing at and why he’s so obsessed with Jonathan Harkness.’

‘Not a problem. Oh, by the way, Matthew Harkness had eight copies of Charlie’s book in his apartment.’

‘What? Eight?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why would he have eight copies?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Give me his agent’s number.’ Sian passed over the slip of paper with the London number written on it.

It took four rings for the call to be answered, and Matilda was left on hold for almost ten minutes before she was put through to the agent.

‘My name is Detective Chief Inspector Matilda Darke from South Yorkshire Police. I’d like some information on a client of yours, Charlie Johnson.’

‘A member of my staff spoke to a colleague of yours yesterday…’

Matilda cut her off. ‘I’m aware that he’s away writing at present but I’d like to talk to you about Charlie the person, rather than Charlie the writer.’

‘Oh. Well what do you want to know?’ The agent had a silly, high-pitched floaty voice.