Читать книгу Outside Looking In: A darkly compelling crime novel with a shocking twist - Michael Wood - Страница 14

Matilda’s office was a small cubicle in the corner of the Murder Room. She liked to keep her door open so her team knew they could step in at any time to talk to her, and also so she could keep an eye on them. Usually at the start of a major investigation the Murder Room would be a hive of activity – unfortunately, being able to hear the clock ticking was not a good sign.

Through the open doorway, Matilda looked out at her team. Aaron looked strained and brooding like he had the entire world’s worries on his shoulders. She had heard Sian refer to him as John Luther but without the cool coat. This was an accurate description of Aaron Connolly. If he won the lottery he’d still have the dour face of a basset hound. Scott was on the phone, held in the crook of his shoulder while tapping away at the computer. He was a quiet man, almost monosyllabic. She wondered what it would take to bring him out of his shell. Despite him being an excellent DC he was the hardest of the team to try and get to know. Rory Fleming was his polar opposite; confident, brash, smiling, bounding around like a puppy. Matilda was surprised that Rory and Scott liked each other, yet they often went to the gym together after work. She wondered what they found to talk about, if anything.

Sian popped her head around the door. ‘Have you got a few minutes?’

‘Sure. Come on in.’

‘You looked lost for a moment there.’

‘Just thinking. What can I do for you?’

‘I’ve had forensics on the phone. They’ve not been able to get anything from the partial footprint on Kevin Hardaker’s chest.’

‘Adele said as much last night.’

‘The bullet from his chest is from a semi-automatic handgun, similar to the kind our armed officers use.’

‘A Heckler & Koch?’ Sian nodded. ‘Do we have any reports of guns being stolen or missing?’

‘None at all. I’ve run through the list of local gun owners and we’ve contacted the majority of them. They all know where their guns are.’

‘So an illegal weapon bought on the black market then?’

‘It would appear so.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes. Uniform were called out to an RTC in the small hours of this morning off Psalter Lane. A nurse going home from the late shift was driving her Nissan and was run off the road by a man driving a black BMW. She crashed into a tree.’

‘Is she OK?’

‘Yes, she’s fine. The car was being driven way over the speed limit and the driver didn’t stop. She said it all happened rather quickly but she was sure the car didn’t have a registration plate. I’ve been in with traffic for the last hour; I’ve looked at the cameras close to Psalter Lane and a black BMW is seen speeding at the roundabout at Hunter’s Bar. It didn’t have any plates.’

‘Can the ANPR track it back?’

‘I’ve got someone working on that for me.’

‘Could you make out the driver?’

‘No. It was dark.’

‘Have any BMW’s been reported stolen?’

‘No.’ Sian shook her head. ‘What do you think – same guy?’

‘Could be.’

Sian whistled. ‘So a black market semi-automatic handgun and potentially stolen BMW. This guy means business.’

‘He certainly does.’ Matilda’s expression darkened. ‘Excellent work, Sian. Well done.’

‘You’re welcome. I’ll keep you up to date.’

Matilda’s mobile phone burst into life as Sian was leaving the office.’

‘DCI Darke,’ she answered. There was no reply but she could definitely hear breathing. ‘Hello,’ she waited, listening to the background noise. ‘Hello, is anyone there? I can hear you, you know.’ The line went dead. She was just about to pull away when the phone rang a second time. Once more, no number was displayed.

‘Yes!’ she snapped.

‘DCI Darke?’

‘Yes!’

‘Hello, I’m Alex Winstanley, the new crime reporter on the Sheffield Star. I was wondering if I could have a word.’

Matilda visibly relaxed. ‘How did you get my number?’

‘From my predecessor. Is this a good time to talk to you about the murder on Clough Lane last night?’

‘How do you know about that?’

‘Pure chance I’m afraid,’ his accent wasn’t local so Matilda guessed he’d moved to Sheffield purely for the job. That meant he would be ambitious and ruthless about getting his hands on the juiciest story, and the Clough Lane murder was certainly juicy. She had an eerie feeling they would not get on. ‘I was in A&E last night and happened to see all the commotion. Is it true you have no idea who the victims are yet?’

‘A statement will be released in good time.’ She gave the standard reply.

‘I heard several shots were fired. Adding to this the recent spate of aggravated burglaries, in which a gun was used in at least one incident, should the people of Sheffield be worried about the rise in gun crime in the city?’

‘There is no rise in gun crime Mr Winstanley.’

‘Really? Official figures seem to show otherwise. Are you aware of an eight-year-old boy found waving a replica gun in Gleadless Valley last weekend?’

Matilda had not heard of this, not that she could let Winstanley know that. Maybe having a dedicated MIT was isolating them from the rest of CID; bringing the two back together would mean information would be passed around more freely. Bloody hell, I’m justifying the scrapping of my own department.

‘Mr Winstanley, allow me to be frank: South Yorkshire Police work very hard to keep the people of Sheffield safe. These minor incidents are being investigated by the best detectives we have. The public are under no threat from gun crime. As for the incident last night, like I said, a statement will be released in due course. Good day Mr Winstanley.’

Matilda didn’t realize it, but that statement would return to haunt her when the local paper hit the shops that evening. Before she had time to think, however, Rory burst into her office.

‘I think we may have found our mystery woman.’