The Hangman’s Hold. Michael Wood

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       Chapter Four

      ‘Why weren’t we told there was a sex offender living on our patch?’

      DCI Matilda Darke was in her tiny, cluttered office with the door closed. DS Aaron Connolly was in front of her desk with a thick file in his hand.

      ‘I’ve no idea. According to this, when he was released from prison, he went back to his home in Essex, but was more or less forced out by the neighbours. He decided on a fresh start in Sheffield and informed Essex Police of his intentions. They were fine with him moving, probably just glad to get rid of him. He was in touch with his probation officer on a regular basis and did everything right.’

      ‘Until he came here and didn’t even bother informing us.’

      ‘That’s what it looks like.’

      ‘How long has he been out of prison?’

      ‘He was released in January last year.’

      ‘So how did he afford such a nice house in Linden Avenue?’

      ‘I’ve no idea, ma’am.’

      Matilda looked past Aaron out into the incident room. The lack of officers was startling. It seemed unnervingly quiet too, though that probably had something to do with the absence of DC Rory Fleming who could frequently be heard above everyone else, even when the room was at full capacity.

      ‘Aaron, go back to his house and give it a thorough going over. I want to know everything about this Brian Appleby. What’s he been doing since last January? Why did he choose Sheffield? Talk to the neighbours – don’t mention he was a sex offender though – and find out what they know about him. What he did for a living, the usual stuff.’

      ‘Will do.’

      ‘Is that his police file?’ Matilda asked as Aaron was about to leave.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Leave it with me.’

      He handed it to her. ‘I was thinking, Brian was a sex offender and his murder looks like an execution. Vigilante?’

      ‘I was thinking that myself,’ Matilda said, running her fingers through her hair. ‘But who knew he was here when even we didn’t?’

      ‘Maybe someone followed him up from Essex.’

      ‘It’s possible. I don’t like vigilantes,’ she said, turning to the window. She rolled her eyes at the uninspiring view. ‘They’re unpredictable, they’re violent, and there’s usually more than one victim.’

      It was strange looking through the one-way mirror and seeing someone she knew sitting nervously in an interview room. Standing in the observation bay, Matilda watched Adele. Less than twenty-four hours ago she was in a restaurant with a charming man having a delicious meal and a pleasant conversation. Now, that man was dead, murdered, and Adele had been the last person to see him alive.

      The door opened and the diminutive Assistant Chief Constable Valerie Masterson entered and joined Matilda. Still dressed in her overcoat and wearing a woollen hat a couple of sizes too big, she had obviously come straight from the car park.

      ‘I’ve just heard. How is she?’ Valerie asked, nodding towards Adele through the glass.

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Who gave her that black eye?’

      ‘She surprised a burglar last night.’

      ‘Are the two connected?’

      ‘I don’t know. I doubt it. I’ll look into it, though.’

      ‘I hope you’re not intending on interviewing Dr Kean yourself.’ Valerie’s concern for Adele didn’t last and quickly turned to admonishment.

      ‘Of course not.’ I would have done if you hadn’t turned up.

      ‘Do I need to bring in someone else to run this investigation?’ Valerie asked staring intently at her DCI.

      ‘No. I’m more than capable of detaching myself.’

      Valerie rolled her eyes, though Matilda didn’t see. She was fixed on Adele. ‘Matilda, I know the two of you are close. I don’t want your friendship getting in the way of a murder investigation.’

      ‘It won’t.’ Matilda turned to look at her boss. ‘I guarantee it.’

      Matilda brushed past the ACC and into the corridor, where Chris Kean, Adele’s son, was waiting. He’d changed dramatically since finishing university. Gone were the unruly hair and sombre scowl of the modern-day student, the dour expression of a generation with the worry of the entire universe on their shoulders. He had been transformed into a member of the working society. He was smart, neat, tidy, handsome, and had put on a little muscle thanks to the training he’d been doing with his mother and Matilda for the half-marathon.

      As soon as he saw Matilda he jumped up from his seat. ‘How’s my mum?’ he asked, the look of worry had returned.

      ‘She’s fine, Chris. There’s nothing to be concerned about. We just need to talk to her about her date, that’s all.’

      ‘Are you going to interview her?’

      Matilda looked back at the observation room, wondering if Valerie was listening. She lowered her voice. ‘No, Chris. I’m not allowed.’

      ‘Why not? She’d feel more comfortable with you in there.’

      ‘I know, but it’s a conflict of interest. We’re friends. It would be the same if you were in there. I’m sorry. She’s going to be interviewed by Aaron and Scott. She knows them; she’s worked alongside them for years. She’ll be fine. Trust me.’

      ‘But why are they allowed to interview her if they know her yet you’re not?’

      ‘Because they’ve never held her hair while she’s vomited a bottle of Prosecco down a toilet.’ Matilda smiled but Chris didn’t seem to see the funny side. ‘Look, Chris, you shouldn’t be here. You’ll have to wait in reception.’

      Chris sat back down, slumping heavily into the plastic chair. ‘It’s all my fault.’

      ‘What СКАЧАТЬ