Friday 10th December, 2010
The snow had continued to fall until the early hours of the morning. By the time James had dug out the driveway and Matilda had de-iced her car, she was thirty minutes late for work.
On her way to the Murder Room she passed CID and looked in expecting to see a seething, dishevelled Ben Hales sitting at his desk but he was nowhere to be found. She was thankful for small mercies.
‘Sian, try and find a decent pool car. I want you and Aaron to come with me. I’ll fill you in on the details on the way but I think we may have identified Clara King’s rapist.’
The pool car might have had decent tyres to plough through the deep snow but the heating system had obviously been bought second-hand from Noah’s Ark. They were just setting off when DC Anna Evans stopped Matilda and handed her the search warrant from the Magistrate’s Court.
They headed for the outskirts of the city. Aaron took the familiar route and Matilda turned in her seat so she could talk to both the driver and Sian in the back, filling them in on everything she knew about Iain Kilbride and his daughter.
Eric Chatterton answered the buzzing on the main door to the flat at Hallam Grange.
‘Good morning. DCI Darke isn’t it?’
‘That’s right, Mr Chatterton. I hope you don’t mind me buzzing you …’
‘No problem at all,’ he interrupted. ‘I’m up at about five o’clock every morning so you didn’t wake me. I know I’m dressed like I’m still half asleep,’ he said, looking down at his dressing gown and matching pyjamas, ‘but when the weather’s this bad and there’s no reason to go out, what’s the point in getting dressed?’
‘I couldn’t agree with you more, Mr Chatterton. I’d love to be at home in my dressing gown right now.’ Matilda pictured herself in the living room, fire raging, a good film on the television, mug of hot chocolate and a big fluffy dressing gown wrapped around her. Then she remembered she was currently living in a tiny caravan made of baked bean tins and was glad to be at work.
Eric stepped back and allowed Matilda, Sian and Aaron to enter. He watched as they made their way upstairs, and wondered why they weren’t going to Iain’s flat on the ground floor.
Matilda knocked loudly on the door. She didn’t give anyone time to answer before she knocked again.
‘Yes?’
‘Robert Blyth, I have a warrant to search your flat. Would you step aside please?’ Matilda asked, holding the warrant aloft and entering his flat without being invited.
‘What’s going on?’ He looked genuinely shocked as the five-foot-five Sian and the six-foot-three Aaron barged past him.
‘Do you own a computer Mr Blyth?’
‘Of course I do. Who doesn’t?’
‘Where is it?’
‘It’s in my bedroom.’
‘Thank you,’ Matilda said, heading down the corridor.
Robert was led past Sian by Aaron to join Matilda in the bedroom. She pointed to the laptop on the bed and instructed Aaron to bag it up as evidence.
‘Would someone like to tell me what the hell is going on here?’
‘Mr Blyth, do you know someone by the name of Clara King?’
His eyes widened, giving himself away immediately. ‘No,’ he lied, unable to make eye contact.
‘Let’s all go into the living room and sit down so you can tell us the truth.’
‘I am telling you the truth.’
‘Mr Blyth, I must warn you, I have no time for liars. I want the truth and I’m not going to leave this flat until I’m satisfied.’
The silence was heavy. Robert Blyth stood in front of his three captors and folded his arms. He had nothing to say.
‘I think you did know Clara King. I think you preyed on her. You used the internet to contact her, you stalked her and groomed her. You arranged to meet her but when she saw you – tall and lanky, and obviously not the teenage heartthrob you alluded to in your profile photo, she looked at you like you were shit on her shoe …’
‘No,’ Robert interrupted, shaking his head. ‘No. You’ve got it all wrong.’
‘You took her home and you raped her. You raped her three times. You defiled her …’
‘I loved her,’ he screamed.
The silence returned. Tears started to stream down Robert’s face. He collapsed onto the sofa and wrapped his skinny arms around his body, holding himself tight.
‘I loved her,’ he repeated, quieter this time. He looked up at Matilda. ‘You think it’s so simple don’t you? You think everything is black and white. I groomed and raped her. You know nothing,’ he spat.
Matilda sat down on the sofa opposite him. ‘Then tell me?’
‘What’s the point? You didn’t listen before why would you listen now? You’re all the same you coppers; you want us to trust you and come to you for protection but when we do you don’t give a fuck.’
‘Robert, tell me what happened,’ Matilda said slowly.
He wiped his nose on his sleeve, opened and closed his mouth. His eyes darted from side to side. He was obviously in torment. Unsure whether to tell his story again or let them think he’d raped a thirteen-year-old girl and accept his fate.
‘I had a twin sister,’ he began. ‘Rachel. One night, when we were eight years old, I went into her bedroom – I can’t remember why – and I saw my dad having sex with her. She was crying. I just froze. I didn’t know what to do. Dad grabbed me. He took me back to my room and sat me down and told me that he loved Rachel and was just doing what daddies do when they love their children,’ Robert started rocking back and forth on the sofa.
‘The next day I asked Rachel what happened and she said she didn’t like it but it was daddy showing her how much he loved her so she let him. She didn’t want him to though. I went to speak to dad and told him that Rachel was upset. She loved him but he was hurting her. I told him that he could do it to me if he wanted to as long as he left Rachel alone.’
Robert looked up for the first time. His eyes were brimming with tears. His audience: Matilda sitting on the sofa opposite, Sian on the armchair, and Aaron next to Matilda, all had blank, horrified faces.
He continued. ‘That night, my bedroom door opened and dad walked in. He told me he loved me and climbed into bed next to me. Then he did what he did with Rachel. It hurt and it made me cry but it wasn’t happening to Rachel so I didn’t mind. When he finished, dad said I’d been a good boy and not to tell anyone, ever. He left the room and I cried. The next morning, Rachel thanked me. She looked so happy, so relieved.’
Robert broke down, the tears wouldn’t stop as he wailed. He lost control of his emotions and let years’ worth of pent up frustration, anger and horror come flowing out.
‘Did you tell anyone?’ Sian asked.
He nodded as he wiped the tears with his sleeve again. ‘The man who lived across the road was a policeman. I told him. He said he’d have a word with dad but nothing happened.’
‘Where’s your father now?’ Matilda asked.
‘He was killed in a car crash on the M1 when I was fifteen. Me and Rachel were so relieved. I’ve still got the newspaper story from when it happened. I know it word for word. His car flipped and he was decapitated as he went through the windscreen. I couldn’t have wished for a more fitting death.’
‘And what happened to Rachel?’
The mention of his twin sister’s name brought on another flood of tears. ‘On our twenty-first birthday Rachel killed herself. She threw herself off the bridge over the Parkway in front of a lorry and was killed instantly. She left me a letter. A couple of weeks earlier Rachel had gone to the doctor because she was bleeding when she went to the toilet. They did tests and told her she was damaged – internally. She’d never be able to have children. She couldn’t handle that.’
‘Where was your mother during all of this?’ Sian asked.
‘Mum died when we were three. Breast cancer.’
‘Did you stalk Clara King and rape her?’ Matilda asked.
Robert tried to reply but couldn’t. He simply nodded.
‘Why?’
‘Because she looked like Rachel,’ Robert went over to the sideboard and pulled out an album. He flicked through the pages and smiled when he came to the photo he wanted to see. He handed it to Matilda. ‘This is Rachel.’
Matilda’s eyes widened. Judy King could have had this photograph on her living room wall. Rachel really was the spitting image of Clara.
‘But why did you rape her?’
‘I didn’t mean to do it. I just wanted to see her in person. When I did I was shocked by how similar she looked to Rachel. I thought it was her.’
‘But you raped her three times,’ Sian said, a look of disgust on her face.
‘I love Rachel. I was just doing what daddy did when he said he loved us.’
Matilda let out a sigh and looked at the floor. Can someone really be labelled an abuser when they thought it was natural due to what they witnessed as a child? To Robert Blyth, he was only doing what his father did. He’d been told that was normal.
‘You posed on the internet as a teenage boy, though,’ Aaron said when the silence grew. ‘That’s premeditation for grooming.’
‘I didn’t create the Facebook page until I came across Rachel … I mean Clara. She didn’t have any security settings on her page and we both liked Sheffield United. I saw her and wanted to talk to her. She wouldn’t talk to a man like me, would she?’
‘Did you know that Iain Kilbride was Clara’s father?’
‘What?’ He asked, his eyes widening in shock. He looked at both Sian and Aaron before turning back to Matilda. ‘No. That’s not right. Different surnames.’
‘Iain Kilbride used to be quite a famous actor in his youth. Iain Kilbride was his stage name. His real name was Iain King.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘Robert, did you kill Iain Kilbride?’
The silence enveloped the room. The wait for an answer was long and painful and the sound of a carriage clock on the mantelpiece ticked ever louder.
‘He asked me to,’ he said quietly.
‘What?’
‘He said he was dying. He said his liver and kidneys were failing. He told me about being an actor in the eighties and nineties. He showed me the photographs. He didn’t want to die a faded star and have such a sad, lingering death. He said it would be fun if he was murdered. It would give him profile. He told me about an actress in the forties called Lupe Velez. Like him, work had dried up, and she wanted to be remembered for her death. Everybody knows how Lupe Velez died with her head in the toilet after a failed suicide attempt.’
Aaron seemed confused, obviously having never heard of Lupe Velez. Sian looked away, embarrassed by Robert Blyth’s excuse.
‘Robert, that story is a myth,’ Matilda said. ‘Lupe Velez did not die with her head down the toilet. It’s a Hollywood myth.’
‘But Iain said he wanted to be remembered for the way he died. He asked me to break in and hit him over the head but not to take anything so the motive wasn’t robbery. Then it wouldn’t be clear why he was killed. It would be a big mystery. I cut my hand breaking the window so he gave me the story about leaning in through the glass and getting blood on my shirt. How would I know all that?’ He looked at the three blank faces staring at him. He continued, floundering. ‘When his boss came and looked through the door she saw his body. I knew I would go around the back and through the window so I looked in the letterbox and pretended not to see him. I made it look like the killer was still in the flat.’ Robert couldn’t talk fast enough. His words were falling over each other as they came out of his mouth.
‘Iain said he would write a letter. He’d write a letter to his wife saying that he’d set it all up to look like a baffling murder. Speak to his wife. She’ll know all about it.’
‘Robert, his wife knows nothing of this.’
‘No. You’re lying,’ he screamed. ‘Iain said …’ the realization dawned on him. ‘Ian … he said that … will I still be charged with murder?’
‘Robert, there was no pact with Iain Kilbride was there? He confronted you about being Clara’s rapist. An argument broke out and you killed him. That’s what happened, isn’t it?’
Confused, eyes darting left and right, Robert said, ‘I … I’m not … I don’t … I … no …’
‘Robert Blyth, I’m charging you with the murder of Iain Kilbride. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely upon in court. Do you understand?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Iain said … he said …’
‘Let’s go, Robert.’
Slowly, and with Aaron’s help, Robert stood up from the sofa and was led out of the flat.
Outside, the wind had eased but the snow continued to fall. Aaron opened the rear door of the pool car and put Robert inside. All the time he was muttering to himself about Iain’s plan to make the perfect murder and be remembered.
‘Do you believe him?’ Sian asked.
‘God knows. I think Iain Kilbride tracked him down. He hasn’t lived here long. He moved in to keep an eye on him, get to know him, and confront him when the time was right. Unfortunately for Iain, he didn’t judge Robert Blyth as well as he thought and ended up being killed.’
‘Do you believe his abuse story?’
‘I think I do. It will need looking into. Come on, let’s get out of this bloody cold. There’s still a lot of work to do on this.’
Matilda lowered herself into the driving seat. Sian was next to her with Aaron and Robert Blyth in the back.
‘He promised he’d write a letter saying it was all his idea and I wouldn’t be charged with murder,’ Robert said, flustered.
‘Even if that was true you would still have been charged with murder,’ Matilda said.
‘But Iain asked me to do it,’ he said over and over again as the car made its way through the snow-covered streets of Sheffield.