The HMET suite was deserted. A skeleton staff was manning the phones in the CID and if anything important arose, the SIO on call would be informed, but budget cuts dictated that a full staff was not required to work weekends.
Matilda entered the large open-plan office and looked at the mess of desks before her. She shook her head in disappointment. Police work shouldn’t be Monday to Friday. There should be no such thing as regular office hours when you were a detective. Crime didn’t recognise bank holidays and weekends, so why should the police. It angered her when she heard about budget cuts to the police when governments wasted millions of pounds on unnecessary projects. How much was spent during the Brexit campaign on leaflets, posters, websites, tour buses, events and conferences? How much was being spent in the ensuing clusterfuck that followed with trips to Europe and back to hammer out a deal? MPs filled in expense forms for every single little item, but how many hours did Matilda work for free every month? Every single member of the police force put their lives on hold, and on the line, every single day to protect the public, and it was a thankless task. Politicians didn’t care. Twenty thousand officers were cut and then they wondered why knife crime rose so rapidly. The solution was simple, put the twenty thousand officers back and employ twenty thousand more. Stop wasting money on a garden bridge over the Thames, planning for HS2, pissing about with Brexit, and you find your money for the extra officers needed to make people feel safe again.
She went into her office and closed the door behind her. She slumped into her chair that had stuffing coming out of the seams (no money in the budget for a replacement) and took her phone out of her pocket.
She had ignored the many texts from Adele last night and this morning, begging her to rethink her absurd plan. However, if Matilda was to go ahead with selling her soul to Danny Hanson, then she was on her own. That hurt Matilda. She had suffered a great deal in the past few years and the one thing that kept her going was knowing that her best friend was always there to help if she needed her. Now, she was being abandoned. She knew what she was about to do was wrong, but there really was no other solution.
Walpole, Compton, Pelham, Pelham-Holles …
A knock on the glass door made her jump. She looked up and saw Christian Brady grinning at her from the other side.
‘I didn’t expect to see you in this morning,’ he said, opening the door.
‘No. To be honest, I don’t know why I’m here. You?’
‘I could be super arse-kissy about it and say I wanted to put in some unpaid overtime to protect the people of Sheffield.’
‘And the truth?’
‘I left my phone here last night.’
Matilda smiled. ‘While you’re here, can I pick your brain?’
‘There’s not really much to pick, but you’re welcome to help yourself.’
‘Thanks. Put the kettle on. We need a coffee for this.’
***
They were both shocked when they opened Sian’s snack drawer and saw there was very little left. A two-fingered KitKat, a small packet of salted peanuts, two purple Clubs and half a packet of dark chocolate digestives.
‘It’s not like Sian to let supplies run this low,’ Matilda said.
‘I think she’s pissed that people are taking things out and not putting anything back.’
‘Oh dear. I think I might be guilty of that.’
‘I think we all are. I’ll pop to Costco on the way home and buy something,’ Christian said scooping up everything that was left and taking it into Matilda’s office.
With the door closed, Matilda filled him in on the phone call she had had with Danny Hanson the day before and the potential fallout once Aaron’s affair with Leah Mercer was exposed.
‘What does the ACC say?’ He asked.
‘I called her last night. Her phone went straight to voicemail, so I left a message saying I needed to talk urgently. When I woke up this morning, I found she’d left me a message. Arthur’s had another stroke.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘She said she’ll see me on Monday, but I doubt she’ll be in.’
‘She’s not the type to take compassionate leave, is she?’
‘No. She should, though.’
‘If there’s not much for her to do at the hospital she probably thinks being at work is the best place to be.’
‘The thing is, I’m up against the clock here. Danny Hanson says he’s going to run the story about Aaron in Monday evening’s edition.’
‘Would it really jeopardise the Mercer case?’
‘Of course it would. You know what defence lawyers are like; they’ll look for any chink to try and get their guy off and I will not let someone walk away from three murders on a technicality that can easily be avoided,’ Matilda said. She took another biscuit from the packet and tore off a chunk. She ignored the crumbs that fell onto her chest. ‘Besides, Keith Lumb sacrificed his life to save mine. I know he wasn’t the most law-abiding person in the world, but I won’t let his death be in vain.’
‘I can understand that. So, what are you going to do?’
‘I’ve got two options. On the one hand I let Danny run his story. The fallout would be Aaron getting sacked and the Mercer case being thrown out of court at the cost of several million pounds and the murderer of three people potentially walking free. On the other hand, I give Danny a completely different story, he still gets his front-page story which will hopefully lead to a job on a national and he can fuck off out of Sheffield, the trial goes ahead in November as planned, and all Aaron has to do is deal with Katrina and go back to CID.’
‘That seems like the best option all round.’
‘Exactly.’
‘What story are you going to give Danny?’
Matilda took a deep breath. ‘The story I plan on giving him isn’t exactly moral.’
‘Ah.’
‘The only one I can think of is Carl Meagan turning up in France.’
‘Do you have the DNA results back yet?’
She looked at her laptop. ‘Erm … no.’ BIG FAT LIAR.
‘Then you can’t give it to him.’
‘I could tell him Carl’s been found. He runs the story and if the DNA results come back and the boy in France isn’t really Carl then it’s Danny who’s for the chop and not me. I’ll deny everything.’
‘You’re not that type of person,’ Christian said, looking at Matilda over the top of his cup.
‘I could be.’
‘And what about the Meagans?’
‘That’s what’s causing the biggest headache. I’ll be getting their hopes up for nothing.’
‘I don’t know about this, Mat. You know how fragile Sally Meagan is. If she thinks Carl’s been found and then it turns out not to be him, who knows how she’ll react.’
‘I’m aware.’
‘Fucking hell,’ he said slowly. ‘Is there nothing else you can give Danny Hanson to stop him running the story?’
‘Not unless you can tell me the identity of Jack the Ripper.’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Then I have no other choice.’
‘You can’t throw Philip and Sally Meagan to the wolves like this.’
‘I can’t allow a murderer to go free either.’
‘Won’t Danny wait for the DNA results if you tell him you may have found Carl? It will only be for a few days and it’ll buy you extra time.’
‘He’ll think we’re stalling him on purpose.’
‘I know the Carl Meagan case means a great deal to you. We all know what you went through and you have the support of the entire force behind you when the press criticises the way the case was handled. If you go ahead with this, you’ll lose all that if the boy in France turns out not to be Carl.’
Matilda turned back to the laptop and saw her face reflected in the black mirror.
‘Then what do I do, Christian?’ She asked, raising her voice. She was clearly struggling with her inner moral compass. ‘What do I actually do next?’ Her voice quivered.
He slowly shook his head. ‘If I knew, I’d tell you. There’s no chance the Mercer killer could change his plea to guilty, is there?’
‘He’s pleading diminished responsibility, but I know for a fact he knew exactly what he was doing when he entered that house. He butchered three people. He cannot be allowed to get away with that.’
Christian pulled his buzzing phone from the pocket of his jeans. ‘That’s the wife; she’ll be wondering where I am. Look, whatever you decide, I’ll support you, but I can’t condone you betraying the Meagan family like this.’
Matilda nodded her thanks. She was afraid to speak in case her emotions poured out. She waited until Christian left the office, watching as he walked out of the HMET suite with his head down. She looked around her. She loved how this team supported each other no matter what was thrown at it. It had taken years for her to build up the trust and respect of every member and there was a distinct possibility she was about to destroy it all and ruin the chance of a promotion to superintendent.
She scrolled through the contacts in her phone and made a call. It didn’t take long for it to be answered.
‘DCI Darke, a pleasure to hear from you. I trust you’re having a lovely weekend,’ Danny’s cheerful voice chilled her to her very soul.
‘We don’t like each other, Danny, so cut the small-talk bollocks. We need to talk.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘In person.’
‘You’re not going to try to appeal to my better nature by telling me DS Connolly is an outstanding detective and one slip is going to ruin an illustrious career, are you?’
‘Danny, you don’t have a better nature. You’re the very definition of a parasite. No, I have a much better story for you.’
‘Unless it’s photographic evidence of Theresa May snorting coke through a rolled up fifty Euro note, I doubt I’ll be interested.’
‘Trust me, Danny, you’re going to be very interested in this one.’
Matilda felt physically sick as she arranged a time and a place to sit down and have coffee with the devil himself.