‘Morning ma’am, can I come in?’
Faith Easter entered Matilda’s office. The young DC stood tall in her powerful-looking navy trouser suit and sensible-yet-stylish shoes. Gone was the severe ponytail, replaced by long straight dark hair to just below the shoulders. It gave her a softer image, yet Matilda knew her no-nonsense attitude lurked just below the surface.
‘Of course you can, Faith, have a seat. What can I do for you?’ Matilda gave her an unnecessarily large smile. ‘Let me just clear off a few things,’ she said, picking up files from the chair and dusting away crumbs and lint. ‘There you go.’
You’re overcompensating.
‘It’s you that wanted to see me,’ Faith said, confused. ‘Acting DCI Brady said so, anyway.’
‘Yes, of course, sorry. I’d like you to bring in George Appleby. He attacked Danny Hanson, and I want a fresh face to interview him. Do you think you’re up to it?’
‘Yes, sure. Definitely,’ she replied, a smile on her face.
Matilda smiled. ‘Good. You and Kesinka bring him in, and I’ll observe the formal interview.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Faith said. She left the room with a spring in her step.
Matilda watched her head for Kesinka. They shared a few words, then both grabbed their jackets and left the office. Matilda’s eyes moved on to Ranjeet who was busy typing on his computer. He briefly looked up as Kesinka passed him and gave her a sweet smile. It was nice to see relationships developing. Not just romantically, but professionally too. Faith and Kesinka worked well together. Of course Faith was part of her team. What was she thinking by leaving her out last night?
Christian headed towards Scott and Rory carrying a tray with three large lattes on it. He placed it down gently on the table and sat next to Rory.
They were in Marmaduke’s on Norfolk Row. It was an independent coffee shop, and was one of Christian’s favourite places to visit on the rare occasion he had time to do so. He and his wife often had a bite to eat or just a coffee whenever the kids where off their hands.
‘Are we having another secret meeting?’ Rory said. ‘Should we call each other 007 or something?’
‘No. But I want you both to do something for me and I didn’t want to talk about it in the office.’
‘Last night when I said—’ Scott began.
‘Scott, forget about it,’ Christian interrupted.
‘I didn’t mean that I didn’t want to end up like Matilda. I just meant—’
‘Scott, drop it. I know what you meant and so did Matilda. You were right. It wasn’t fair to ask us to investigate our colleagues. However, we do need to rule people out. Now, I want you both to do me a favour.’ He leaned forward so as not to be overheard, even though there was only an elderly couple in Marmaduke’s with them.
George Appleby had decided to defy the gossip and return to university. He had spent the previous evening worrying what everyone was going to say when he stepped into the lecture hall. In the end, it wasn’t as bad as he had expected, mostly because everyone seemed to be ignoring him. He wasn’t happy about that, but he could live with it. When two detectives entered the hall, and called his name, he wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Why couldn’t they just allow him to continue with his life without all this drama?
All eyes had been on him as he was led through the corridors of Sheffield Hallam University, flanked by two plain-clothed detectives, and out to a waiting pool car. He hadn’t protested, but he kept thinking of the stories that would be spread about him now.
He accepted the offer of a cup of tea and sat in the interview room with his skeletal fingers firmly gripped around the plastic cup. His pale face looked scared, and he was constantly biting at his bottom lip. He had an oversized navy cardigan hanging on his skinny frame. He said he didn’t want a solicitor present.
Kesinka started the recording and cautioned George Appleby, before she handed over to Faith. As promised, Matilda was in the observation room. She told Faith, through the earpiece, to start with Gordon Berry’s murder and work backwards.
‘George,’ Faith began. She smiled at him, but he didn’t reciprocate. ‘Can you tell us where you were on the evening of Tuesday, 11th April?’
‘I was at home,’ he said softly.
‘Can anyone verify that?’
‘My housemates.’
‘Which ones?’
‘All of them.’ He frowned.
‘We went to your house this morning and spoke to two of your housemates. They said you weren’t at home on Tuesday evening.’ Faith looked down at her pad. ‘You still hadn’t come home at midnight when Anil and Anita went to bed.’
‘Oh Tuesday? I thought you said Monday,’ he lied unconvincingly. ‘I was out.’
‘I’m guessing that. Where?’
‘At the pub.’
‘Which one?’ Faith asked, getting slightly annoyed at his short answers.
‘Walkabout.’
‘On your own?’
He hesitated. ‘No. Well, yes, but, no. I went on my own, but I got chatting to some people at the bar.’
‘Had you seen these people before?’
‘No.’
‘Did you get their names, or numbers?’
‘No.’
‘Would you recognize each other again?’
‘Probably not.’
‘So, really, you have no alibi for Tuesday night.’
‘I do. I’ve just said, I was in Walkabout.’
‘But you can’t prove that.’
‘I didn’t think I’d have to,’ he scoffed. ‘I don’t go out and make sure I always have people with me, so I can prove where I’ve been. Do you?’
‘George, we will be pulling CCTV footage from Walkabout and the surrounding area,’ Faith said.
‘Good. That’ll prove it then.’ He folded his arms.
Faith glanced at the mirror Matilda was standing behind. She raised an eyebrow and hoped the boss would give her something to say back to George, but all she heard was silence. She took out a photograph from the file in front of her, a blown-up image of Gordon Berry, and placed it in front of George. ‘Do you know this man?’
‘No,’ George replied, barely glancing at it.
‘Would you like to look again?’
‘No, I don’t recognize him,’ George said after an exaggerated stare. ‘Who is he?’
‘I’m glad you asked that. His name is Gordon Berry. He was found murdered yesterday morning.’
‘So?’
‘He was hanged. Just like your father was. Just like Joe Lacey was. Just like Katie Reaney was. You don’t seem to have an alibi for the days and times any of those were killed either.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m not saying anything.’
‘You think I murdered them?’ he asked, raising his voice. ‘Do I look like a killer to you?’
‘What does a killer look like, Mr Appleby?’ Kesinka asked.
‘I … well, I don’t know, but not me.’
‘How long are we going to play these games, Mr Appleby?’
‘I can’t believe this.’ He leaned forward and slapped his hands down on the table. ‘You drag me out of a lecture, parade me through university like I’m some sort of Jack the Ripper and then accuse me of murdering four people. You can’t do this.’
‘Mr Appleby, I can do whatever I want—’
‘Steady,’ Matilda said to Faith through her earpiece.
Faith started again. ‘Until you provide us with a suitable alibi for your whereabouts we’re going to have to consider you a suspect.’
‘That’s better,’ Matilda said.
‘Why would I kill them? I have no motive. I didn’t even know these people.’
‘There’s your father.’
‘One person,’ he scoffed. ‘And I hadn’t seen him for years. Not since he got sent down. I had nothing to do with the man.’
‘Do you expect us to believe that?’
‘Yes I do because it’s the truth. For fuck’s sake,’ George replied, getting flustered, ‘are you grilling the other victims’ relatives like this, or am I the only one?’
‘You’re very quick to temper, aren’t you?’ Kesinka asked. ‘Do you have anger issues?’
‘Jesus Christ! I can’t believe this. No. I do not have anger issues. Well, I didn’t until I met you two.’
‘Ask him about Danny Hanson,’ Matilda quickly said.
‘Do you know Danny Hanson?’ Faith asked.
George froze. For a second too long. ‘Er … no. I don’t think so.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Er … yes.’
‘Danny Hanson is a reporter on The Star. He’s been covering the murders extensively. The whole of Sheffield knows all about your father because of Danny’s journalism.’
George shrugged. ‘So?’
‘Danny Hanson was attacked by someone who matches your description,’ Faith said.
‘What? Tall and thin with messy hair? You were at the university, we all look like that.’
Faith opened a file and read from Danny’s statement. ‘“Tall, thin, dark red unkempt hair, a slight southern accent”. Do you often walk around Weston Park during the hours of darkness?’
George didn’t reply. His eyes firmly fixed on the table.
‘So what happened?’ Kesinka asked. ‘Was he too strong for you? Did you try to get the noose over his neck, but his big scarf and coat got in the way?’
‘No.’
‘Were you interrupted? Did you have to abandon your plan to kill him?’
‘What are you talking about?’ He flustered. ‘There was no plan.’
‘So it was a spontaneous thing then?’
‘No. I—’ He stopped himself.
‘Go on,’ Kesinka prompted.
‘Fuck,’ he uttered. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight. The story had just been printed about my dad, and I’d been getting taunts.’
‘Taunts?’ Kesinka asked.
‘Yes. On Facebook and Twitter. People saying things about me. My housemates have asked me to leave. My mum doesn’t want to know me. It’s like I’m on my own and everyone’s against me,’ he said. His face was a picture of angst. A tear escaped from his eye.
‘Why did you strangle Danny Hanson?’
‘I didn’t strangle him.’
‘You grabbed his scarf and tightened it around his neck.’
‘I know what you’re thinking. I tried to strangle him, so I must be behind the hangings. I’m not. Honestly. I grabbed his scarf because he was wearing one. I saw red. I’m sorry.’
‘Do you have problems controlling your anger, Mr Appleby?’ Kesinka asked.
‘Good,’ Matilda said.
‘No,’ he sniggered. ‘You’re taking this out of context.’ George ran his fingers through his unruly hair anxiously. ‘I was planning to talk to Danny, you know, ask him how he had the cheek to write those things and not to think of the consequences. But when I saw him, I just, I don’t know, I—’
‘Snapped,’ Faith completed his sentence for him.
‘Yes.’
‘Did you snap with your father, Joe Lacey, Katie Reaney and Gordon Berry too?’
‘No. You’re not listening to me,’ he said, his voice full of emotion. He was physically drained by the bombardment of questions.
‘You’re going around in circles. Stop the interview, give him a breather,’ Matilda said.
‘I tell you what, we’ll stop here for a short break. Then, we’ll restart, and you can tell us exactly where you were.’
‘Interview terminated 11.47,’ Kesinka Rani said, turning the recording off.
‘You did good work in there, Faith,’ Matilda said as they both joined her in the observation room. ‘You need to rein in your … excitement a tad,’ she said with a sympathetic smile, trying to find the right word. ‘Don’t let your frustration affect your questioning.’
‘OK,’ she said, taking her boss’s words on board.
Matilda looked past the DCs and into the interview room where George Appleby had his head in his arms on the table. ‘Right, go and get yourself a cup of tea. Give him half an hour to stew then have another go. I’ll be upstairs.’
‘Ma’am,’ Faith called her boss back, ‘is he seriously a suspect?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘What about the attack on Danny Hanson?’
‘Danny said he doesn’t want to press charges, so we’ve no case. I would like to know his alibis for the killings though, just to put my mind at rest. Go and get yourselves that tea.’
Matilda watched as Faith and Kesinka headed in the direction of the canteen. How could she have possibly doubted those two?
Matilda left the room and headed for the stairwell. Once on her own, her mind went back to the clandestine meeting last night. Would Scott and Rory treat her any differently now? She nudged shoulders with a PC coming down the stairs. He dropped a few files. Matilda waved an apology. Deep in thought, she carried on and felt a prickly sensation creep up the back of her neck again.