The meeting with Valerie and James was more succinct than previous ones. Valerie was concerned this was spiralling out of control, but James leapt to Matilda’s defence. He said because Katie Reaney had kept herself under the radar, very few people would know who she really was. It improved the police’s chances of catching the murderer.
This made Matilda smile, and she looked across at the psychologist, who smiled back. It seemed strange to be sitting so close to someone who looked like her dead husband. First, it was just the eyes, now it seemed to be more of him; the smile, the way he sat, held a pen, the warm feeling he gave Matilda every time she was in the same room as him. What are you doing? She hated the fact she was looking at another man and thinking such thoughts. She picked up her coffee cup from Valerie’s desk and placed it firmly on the back of her hand. The burning sensation ran up her arm. She was punishing herself.
‘Thank you,’ Matilda said as she and James stood in the corridor outside Valerie’s office. Fortunately, the meeting hadn’t gone on for too long. ‘For what you said in there.’
‘My pleasure.’
It was almost seven o’clock and the station was quiet as the majority of staff had gone home for the day. They walked along the dark corridor in silence.
‘It must be difficult having a case that runs on. I’m assuming most murders get solved fairly quickly.’
‘The domestic ones can do. Luckily, cases like this are very few and far between. They do tend to consume you.’
‘Not much free time for other things.’
‘No.’
‘Can I buy you a drink?’
Matilda stopped walking. ‘Yes. Sure. I’d like that,’ she smiled.
What the hell am I doing?
James Dalziel was at the bar waiting to be served. Sitting at a small table in the corner of All Bar One, Matilda felt anxious. The evening crowd in polyester jackets, sensible shoes, and lanyards around their necks were enjoying an after-work drink with colleagues to go over the events of the day. After the second or third, they began to loosen up, their body language relaxed and their talk moved away from the office to more private matters. The façade they kept up from nine until five was gone.
‘Oh my God, if I’d been there I think I would have wet myself,’ said one of the women. She leaned back and laughed, nudged the man sitting next to her and placed her hand on his knee to balance herself.
Were they a couple or just co-workers who were great friends? Matilda couldn’t imagine herself being so comfortable with Christian Brady or Rory Fleming, as funny and as sweet as they were.
‘Are you sure you don’t want anything stronger?’ James asked, placing an orange juice down in front of Matilda.
‘No thanks. I don’t drink on weekdays,’ she lied.
‘Very restrained of you. I always like a pint to round off a difficult day,’ he said, taking a lingering sip of his lager. ‘Lovely.’
‘You don’t deal with murders often?’
‘I’ve consulted on a few cases, but I mostly teach psychology. This is a whole new ball game for me.’
‘I’d like to say you get used to it, but I don’t think people being murdered is something we should get used to.’
‘So what drove you to murder?’ James asked rather too loudly. The party at the next table turned to look at them, and Matilda almost choked on her drink. ‘Shit! I don’t mean what drove you to kill someone. I’m not saying you’re a killer or anything. I meant … what I meant was …’
Jesus! He even blushes like James.
‘It’s OK. I know what you mean.’ She smiled. She turned to the group sitting next to them. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not dangerous.’ They gave nervous smiles and went back to their drinks, although they soon left. ‘People fascinate me. I know not everyone in the world is a killer, but I’m interested in why people do what they do, why they behave in a particular way, what drives them to the extreme.’
‘Depressing,’ James said with a hint of a smile.
‘It can be. It depends if you allow it to get to you.’
‘Do you?’
‘Sometimes.’ Another lie. Always.
‘How do you unwind?’
‘Well right now, I’m training to run the Sheffield half-marathon. Me and Adele, her son and Scott are raising money for charity.’
‘Oh wow, excellent. What’s the charity?’
Oh God, I’m going to have to go through the whole story of James dying again. I don’t want to cry in public.
‘It’s a cancer charity. My husband died from a brain tumour,’ she quickly said.
‘Oh yes, you said that he died around the time Carl Meagan went missing. I’m so sorry. That must have been a difficult time for you.’
‘It was. What about you? Are you married?’ The words almost fell out of her mouth as she tried to change the subject of conversation.
‘I was. My ex-wife is still in Scotland.’
‘Any children?’
‘Two,’ he beamed. ‘I see them as often as I can but it’s not easy.’
‘I can imagine. Why did you move to Sheffield?’
‘The job came up. It was the right time, so I took it. I wish I’d waited for something closer to home, but … I didn’t think I’d miss the girls as much as I do. What about you? Any children?’
‘No,’ Matilda replied quickly. She never wanted children. James hadn’t either. However, now he was dead she wished they’d had one: a reminder of the man she loved. ‘Will you re-marry?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure. If someone special came along, maybe, but I’m not actively looking. What about you?’
Yes, what about me?
Matilda swallowed hard. Before she had met James, she would have said a determined no straight away. Why was she hesitating? Surely just because he looked like her husband didn’t mean he would be a near-perfect match. That wasn’t healthy, anyway.
Answer him, you stupid woman.
‘No. I don’t think so,’ she eventually replied. She took a long drink of the acidic orange that tasted bitter on her tongue. Over the top of her glass she looked across the table at James, who smiled at her.
‘Would you like something to eat?’ he asked, leaning forward.
‘Yes. I’d like that.’
It was almost midnight by the time the taxi pulled up outside Adele’s house. Despite having to pass where James Dalziel lived to get to Adele’s, he insisted on staying in the cab, so he knew she arrived home safely. She thanked him for a lovely evening, and genuinely meant it. She couldn’t get out of the taxi fast enough though, to avoid any awkwardness over whether to kiss him or not. She watched as the cab drove away. James turned around and waved at her through the window. She smiled. She took her key out of her coat pocket and walked down the short path to the front door.
‘Matilda.’
At the sound of her name being whispered she turned around quickly, but there was nobody there. She was sure someone had called out to her.
Across the road was a row of houses then a patch of green land with a few trees, branches swaying in the breeze. Was someone there, hiding behind the trees, watching her, tormenting her?
Plucking courage from somewhere, she put the key back in her pocket and headed for the road. The door behind her opened, bathing her in a soothing yellow glow.
‘I thought I heard a car pull up. Forgot your key?’ Adele said.
‘What?’ Matilda kept looking back at the trees. ‘Erm … yes … no.’
‘Come on, you’re letting all the warmth out.’
Matilda entered the house and closed the door behind her, making sure all the locks were secure. She looked through the spyhole, waiting for some kind of movement. She had heard her name being called. There was definitely somebody out there watching her.
‘I thought you’d have been in bed by now,’ Matilda said to Adele, who was sitting in the living room in her dressing gown, a hardback open face down on the coffee table in front of her.
‘I would have been but, when you sent me that text saying you were going out for dinner with the handsome psychologist, I couldn’t wait until morning to get all the sexy details.’ She grinned.
‘There are no sexy details. And who said he was handsome?’
‘Sian did.’
‘Please don’t tell me you’ve called her to ask about him.’
‘No, I did not call her,’ Adele said, looking down at the floor.
‘You texted her though, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, sorry. I couldn’t resist. Sian said he was gorgeous. She’s going to try and get a photo of him tomorrow and send it to me. Or did you take a selfie with him tonight?’
Matilda turned and went into the kitchen. ‘You’re incorrigible, do you know that?’ She switched the kettle on.
‘I’m just interested,’ Adele said, trotting in behind her. ‘I think it’s great you’re out dating again.’
‘I’m not dating him, Adele,’ Matilda said, almost ratty. ‘I just went for a meal, that’s all.’
‘But you’re out there, that’s the main thing. You’re not wallowing at home like you have been doing lately. Matilda, come and sit down.’
Adele grabbed Matilda’s arms and walked her to the breakfast table. They both sat.
Matilda felt her eyes filling. There was a lump in her throat.
‘Matilda, I love you, you know I do. I loved James too. You were the perfect couple. Sometimes, sickeningly so.’ She smiled. ‘When James died I worried that you’d withdraw into yourself and wither away. To an extent, you have done, but now you’re out there having meals with handsome men—’
‘It’s one man,’ she interrupted.
‘But it’s a start. You’ve come a long way, Matilda, you should be proud of that.’
‘I haven’t come a long way at all.’ Matilda slumped, a tear fell from her eye.
‘Do you think you’re betraying James by going out with another man?’
Matilda shook her head, wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. ‘It’s not that. Adele, he’s the spitting image of James. You should see him, he could be his clone. I only agreed to go for a drink and have a meal with him because it would be like having one final dinner with my husband. Now, tell me that’s an improvement on spending my evenings alone?’
‘Oh, Matilda.’ Adele stood up and put her arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. ‘James would want you to move on. He’d want you to be happy.’
‘I know he would, but I don’t.’
‘Don’t what?’
‘I don’t want to be happy without James. If I can’t have a future with him I don’t want one at all,’ she managed to say before the torrent of tears came.