Sian had called in on Adele at the post-mortem suite as she was getting ready to leave at the end of the day. She told her about the letters Aaron and Faith had found in Ben’s house.
‘What do I do with Matilda’s? Is she in a fit state to read it?’ Sian asked.
‘I don’t know, Sian. She’s hardly said two words to me since I picked her up from hospital this morning. I cannot believe Ben would have done that. I know he was a shit, but to … it beggars belief.’
‘Why don’t you take the letter, and give it to her when you think she’s OK to read it?’ Sian asked. She placed the envelope on Adele’s desk. She was just happy to have it out of her possession.
Adele picked it up and looked at Ben’s untidy scrawl. ‘Matilda’ had been scratched in thick biro. Real anger had gone into that seven-letter word. It wasn’t written, it was etched. She placed it in her coat pocket. The responsibility was weighing her down already.
Adele arrived home to find Matilda exactly where she had left her – on the sofa, staring into space. Adele looked at her through the glass in the door. She needed to sound positive and happy around Matilda; hopefully it would rub off on her and she would be back to her normal self – whatever that was. Was she normal before she found Ben hanging from her bannister, or before James died?
‘Hi honey, I’m home,’ she said, breezing into the living room. ‘Good news, I clinched the Carter account,’ she quipped in a poor attempt at an American accent.
‘What?’ Matilda looked up from the sofa. She was hugging her knees and had recently been crying.
‘Nothing, it doesn’t matter. Cup of tea?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Have you eaten?’
‘Erm … I’m not sure. I don’t think so.’ Matilda frowned. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything to eat. A large nurse had brought her something on a plate this morning, but she couldn’t remember what had happened to it.
‘How about I make us a quick snack now, and then we can order a pizza later?’
‘Yes, sure.’
Adele headed into the kitchen leaving Matilda on the sofa, hugging a pillow.
‘I thought you were going into work?’ Matilda called out.
‘I did.’
Matilda looked at the clock on the wall. It was just after seven o’clock. It was dark outside. How long had she been sitting staring out of the window?
‘Did you do the autopsy on …?’ She allowed the question to fade away. She didn’t want to say the man’s name.
‘I did, yes.’
‘And?’
Adele came to the entrance of the living room and looked Matilda in the eye. ‘He wasn’t murdered, Mat.’
‘Suicide?’
Adele nodded.
There it was – confirmation of the man who hated her and his final act to destroy her.
Adele disappeared into the hallway then came straight back in carrying the letter. ‘Matilda, Sian came to the mortuary as I was leaving. They found this in Ben’s house, addressed to you.’
‘Oh God!’
‘What do you want me to do with it?’
‘I don’t know. Should I read it?’ She couldn’t take her eyes off the envelope.
‘That’s up to you.’
‘What would you do?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘It’s going to be full of blame, anger, his final dig at me, isn’t it?’
‘Shall I throw it away then?’
‘No, I’ll read it.’ Matilda prepared herself for more character assassination and held her hand out.
‘Do you want me to be here with you while … or shall I just?… I’ll go and make …’ Adele floundered, then walked into the kitchen.
Matilda gripped the envelope firmly in both hands, looking at her name written in block capitals. Did she really want to read the final ramblings of a man who hated her so much he wanted to destroy her mentally?
‘Screw it,’ she said, running her thumb through the flap and pulling out the handwritten letter.
Dear Matilda,
I’d like to thank you for coming to see me the other day. I’ve been mulling things over recently, wondering where my life is heading, what I want to do with my future, and I couldn’t think of any way out of the slump I was in. Sara didn’t want to know me. Neither do my kids. That’s not technically true; Rosie messages me when she wants some money. Natalie asks how I am from time to time but I think that’s just out of duty. When I reply that I’m fine, I never get anything more from her.
So, you coming to see me was the catalyst. I was in a quagmire with no way out. I think the rest of my life was going to be spent in the armchair watching my bank balance slowly dwindle down to zero as I lost bet after bet and transferred money to my ungrateful daughters.
Once you’d left I decided to end my life, but I wasn’t going to go quietly. That would have been too easy. I blame you for everything. You fucked up the Carl Meagan case, you should have been sacked and shamed. I don’t know how you can continue knowing what you’ve done to the Meagan family. How many more lives are you going to ruin before you realize you’re poison?
You’re probably thinking I’m bitter and jealous. I’m bitter, yes, but not jealous, because I know what is going to happen to you. You’ve fucked up my life and you’re going to fuck up your own. I’m just sorry I’m not going to be around to see it. However, I can rest easy knowing I’m going to be a large factor in you going completely mental.
I know how precious your house is to you. I also know you’re going to see me in it every time you walk into the hallway. So, you’re going to have a big decision to make – move and let the memories of James fade, or see me every second you’re in that house.
One more thing, don’t think my death will be the last time you hear from me. You may have caught me at a low point when you visited, but I’ve not spent the last few months eating takeaways and watching daytime television. I’m a detective. I’m a bloody good detective. Remember that.
DI Ben Hales.
Adele waited outside the living room until she heard movement and decided it was safe to go back in. She entered with a tray carrying two mugs of tea and a packet of dark chocolate digestives.
‘Is everything OK?’ she asked, noticing Matilda’s tear-stained face.
Matilda couldn’t speak. The tears came as soon as she saw her friend come into the room. She shook her head.
Adele placed the tray down on the coffee table and saw the handwritten note. ‘Can I?’ she asked, pointing to it.
Matilda nodded and put her head in the pillow again. Adele sat in the armchair and read the letter.
‘Bloody hell,’ was all she could say when she’d finished.
‘If there is a serial killer out there going after people who haven’t been punished fully for their crimes, then I’m definitely high up on his list of potential victims. First Carl Meagan and now Ben Hales. I’m a sitting duck.’