mostly budgetary reasons. South Yorkshire Police is under intense scrutiny, as you’re aware; we’re still under the microscope with the Hillsborough inquiry and the level of sexual abuse that has emerged in Rotherham has taken its toll. We’ve got representatives from the National Crime Agency looking into this sex abuse scandal. They’ve uncovered more than three hundred potential abusers. I’m lucky to still be sitting here. As we’ve been underperforming, so they say, we’re having our budget cut. Another reason is that the levels of murder within South Yorkshire have dropped. The Chief Constable believes that a dedicated murder unit is no longer necessary.’
‘I’m guessing he hasn’t heard about the double shooting last night,’ Matilda said with a hint of sarcasm.
Valerie gave a half-smile. ‘That has come with unfortunate timing. However, the Murder Room still exists at present and you have the full backing of the force.’
‘Just not the resources.’
‘Whatever you need to help you solve this case you will have.’
‘I want more detectives.’
Valerie sighed. ‘I will do the best I can for you; however, with these aggravated burglaries occurring left, right, and centre, CID are stretched as it is. Besides, you have Mills and Connolly, Fleming and … what’s his name, blond hair?’
‘Scott Andrews. I need a replacement DI.’
‘And you’re getting one. I have several candidates to interview in the coming days.’ That was a lie. Valerie had one person left to interview. It appeared that South Yorkshire Police’s reputation was not favourable with people seeking to improve their position. It would appear nobody wanted to be associated with the force.
‘Can’t I have one from CID? What about Brady?
‘DI Brady is working round the clock on these burglaries.’
‘Brady has been in this job longer than I have and you’ve got him working on burglaries. It’s not using him to his full potential.’ Matilda’s frustration was mounting. ‘With the Murder Room closing you’re sending dedicated detectives back to menial tasks. They won’t stand for it and they’ll leave. You’ll end up with a force like a ghost town and below-par coppers out of their depth when a serious crime occurs.’
Matilda paused for breath. ‘If the Murder Room closes the inevitable is bound to happen – the more experienced detectives will apply for a transfer to a force with dedicated units and South Yorkshire will be left with the dregs, and before the Chief Constable can polish his buttons crime will rise and the region will be crying out for a dedicated Murder Investigation Team, but there’ll be nobody skilled enough to run it.’
Valerie didn’t seem to be listening as she looked for a folder on her desk. ‘A warehouse in Snig Hill was broken into; £15,000 of computer equipment stolen, the whole place trashed and a security guard with a fractured skull. A house on Dore Road was broken into; elderly man and woman tied up while their house was ransacked. The woman was threatened with rape if she didn’t take off her wedding ring. A man was severely beaten in Heeley and had expensive watches and computer equipment taken. He was tied up with duct tape and doused in petrol. Need I go on? These are not just teenagers pissing about, Matilda.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, her head bowed. ‘I had no idea of the level of violence involved. Christian Brady is a fine detective. He’ll do well on the burglaries. I just feel like I’m fighting a war single-handed. There’s no way I can win so why bother with the battle?’
‘Matilda, I understand your frustration, and your anger. I will do everything in my power to help you but I’m limited in what I can do. What you did with the Harkness case before Christmas was beyond excellent. I’m not going to placate you but I do believe you can work this case with the minimum of officers and still get a result.’
‘Why should I, though? Why should I work my arse off and get a result when it’s not appreciated? The Chief Constable is closing us down; I’m guessing there will be redundancies and I’m guessing I’ll be one of them. Why should I sweat blood just to be given my cards in a few weeks’ time?’
‘I’ve been assured there will not be any redundancies. It’s about having a CID and an MIT running side by side when it isn’t necessary. Combined you can have pockets of teams working individual cases with one or two senior officers overlooking the whole department.’
Those words may have been spoken by ACC Masterson but they were written by the Chief Constable, and, judging by the look on Matilda’s face, she knew that too. Matilda stood up to leave.
‘Before you go, did you see The Star last night?’
‘I’m afraid I did, yes.’
Valerie pulled out her dog-eared copy and laid it flat on her desk. It was open at page seven: ‘CARL MEAGAN: ONE YEAR ON’. Her stomach began performing somersaults.
Robert Walpole, Spencer Compton, Henry Pelham, Thomas Pelham-Holles, William Cavendish.
It had been a long time since Matilda had recited the names of the British Prime Ministers as an aid to relaxing. She hadn’t needed them since she’d given up drinking and learned to channel her grief. It seemed it only took the mere mention of Carl Meagan’s name and she was plunged back into her paranoiac nightmare.
‘We don’t come out very well I’m afraid. Were you contacted yesterday to contribute to this travesty?’
‘No.’
‘I thought not. It says you were unavailable for comment.’
‘I know,’ Matilda said, looking away from the paper. She didn’t need to see it; it was imprinted on her memory. ‘Why do they have to keep raking it up?’
‘It’s been a year. The parents want to keep the story alive. It’s understandable. He’s their son.’
‘I know,’ she said, bowing her head. ‘But I can’t keep doing this if I’m smacked in the face with Carl Meagan every time I’m working on a case.’
‘Matilda, leave the press to me. Do your job, a job you do incredibly well, and defy them all. I know you don’t believe this Matilda, but I’m with you 100 per cent,’ Valerie said when the expression on her DCI’s face remained hollow and drawn.
‘You’re right, I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it at all.’ She turned and left the room, not caring if there was more to the meeting.
Matilda didn’t have the energy to storm out and make a scene. What was the point in shouting and screaming from the rooftops if nothing was going to change? As Matilda walked away from the door and headed to the nearest toilets she was reminded of the saying ‘no man is an island’. Maybe not, but a high-ranking woman in the police force certainly was.
Matilda entered the pathology suite and was met immediately by a team of police officers milling around. It was imperative the body of Kevin Hardaker was not left alone at any time for fear of evidence tampering.
‘Morning
