Matt Brolly - Dead Lucky

He made a red bush tea, sat on the room’s sole chair and listened to Andy Shauf singing about falling asleep. He tried to attack each raging thought one at a time, but the images of the last twenty-four hours swam in his head in a grotesque collage: Moira Sackville’s crime scene, Eustace Sackville alone and distraught in a hospital bed, Sophie and the new baby, Matilda Kennedy setting off for an evening out. He imagined Sarah May was in London, wished that he could just call her and she would appear.

He undressed, and climbed into bed, his thoughts returning to Eustace Sackville. He thought about what the man had been through, the death of his only family, and tried to think about how he must be feeling alone in his hospital bed. Then his thoughts moved on to Sophie and the new baby; how Chloe’s sister would never be part of his life, and he realised his and Eustace Sackville’s situation were not that different.

Chapter 11

She realised it was a mistake. She realised every time she did it. She’d half hoped last night that Lambert would have asked her to work later so she could have avoided it.

She walked naked into the bathroom and switched on the shower. She searched through the cabinets but found only the most rudimentary of toiletries. It was unprofessional in more ways than one. She’d known from the moment she’d changed into the green dress, which had even received a note of assent from Lambert, that she would end up staying the night here. Yet she hadn’t even brought a change of clothes. Now she would have to go home and change. She turned off the shower, returned to the bedroom and put on her clothes.

Tillman sat up in bed and looked at her. ‘Leaving already?’

‘Lambert’s scheduled a meeting for seven and I can hardly turn up in last night’s clothes.’ Her tone was short, and summed up their relationship. The nights of passion, followed by the mornings of regret. Tillman was barely covered by a thin sheet. She surveyed him as she dressed, intrigued by the vastness of his pale body. His large figure at once overweight but muscled, far from her normal choice in men. She was sleeping with the boss, something she’d always secretly belittled other women for doing, but there was something about the man which drew her in.

Tillman rubbed his eyes. For a moment, she thought he was going to say something ridiculous, like she should leave some clothes at this place. ‘I’ll see you there,’ he said, rolling over on his side. She fought a wave of desire and left.

She drove home, the evidence of last night’s excesses seeping through her pores. She needed food and coffee. At home, she ran the coffee maker and showered again – dousing herself in shower gel and shampoo, scrubbing her teeth clean with an evangelical zeal. She toasted a bagel, and burnt her throat washing it down with the scalding coffee.

Devlin greeted her as she walked into the incident room five minutes early. ‘Sarge, a Mrs Levinson called last night. She wants to speak to you. Something she forgot to mention yesterday, she said.’

Kennedy nodded, taking the note from him. She sat at her desk, glancing at Lambert who had seemingly not noticed her arrival.

‘Right, let’s get on with this,’ said Lambert, getting to his feet. He was dressed in a suit she hadn’t seen before. He looked surprisingly fresh, clean shaven, and bright eyed, as if he’d had a good night’s rest. He handed out duties with almost military-like precision. He ordered a re-examination of the CCTV footage, checked that the Whitfield lead was being followed up, and instructed two of the team to start trawling through Eustace Sackville’s past newspaper stories. ‘Anything, however minor, that stands out – then notify me immediately,’ he said.

The meeting lasted less than twenty minutes.

‘Good night?’ he said to Matilda, after everyone had left the conference room. His eyebrows arched high, giving him a comical look.

‘It was fine, thank you,’ she replied, deadpan. She told him she planned to see Levinson again that morning.

‘Okay. I want you to visit Sackville after you’ve seen her. See if you can get anything from him. Maybe he’ll open up to you. Try to find out some more about his article research and his relationship to the Blake family. I’m planning to see Blake today. And push him some more on Robinson.’

Matilda hesitated. ‘You’re going to see Blake alone?’

Lambert faltered. She thought she saw something in him she hadn’t seen before. It was as if he’d let his guard slip for a second. ‘I think I’ll be safe. Keep me updated on what the librarian says.’

Sandra Levinson was prowling the non-fiction floor of the library when Matilda arrived. Matilda watched her from a distance, taken once more by the woman’s beauty: the perfect symmetry of her face, and the elegant grace of her body. It was no exaggeration to suggest that the woman could have made a career in modelling.

As if she’d known Matilda had been watching her all this time, the librarian turned to face her in a slow drawn out movement. Her face broke into a smile on seeing Matilda, the faintest of lines appearing to the side of her eyes. ‘Sergeant Kennedy, hello.’ She carried an edition of A Room of One’s Own, which she placed back on one of the bookshelves. ‘Could I buy you a coffee? I’m dying for a hit of caffeine. There’s a lovely little café down the road.’

‘Sounds good,’ said Matilda.

Matilda noticed the appreciative looks Levinson received as they walked down Lordship Lane, as if she was accompanying someone famous. The woman either didn’t notice the stares, or was so used to them she didn’t bother commenting. ‘Let’s sit outside, what can I get you?’

‘Let me,’ said Matilda.

‘Don’t be silly, I insist.’

Matilda ordered a black coffee, and enjoyed the sunshine as she waited for Levinson to return. She presumed the journey would be a wasted one as she couldn’t imagine Levinson had the most devastating of news to tell her, but at least she could enjoy this one moment of pleasure.

‘There you go. I bought us some pastries, hope you don’t be mind.’

Matilda’s mouth watered as she surveyed the crumbling flakes of the pains au chocolat. ‘Thank you. I won’t tell if you won’t. How are things at the library, how has everyone taken the news?’

‘It’s a little surreal. Naturally, everyone was shocked but I think it’s hard for them to accept the true extent of what has happened. Me included, I’m afraid. I keep looking at the entrance, somehow waiting for Moira to walk through.’

‘I understand completely. These things take time.’ Matilda took a bite of the pastry, a wave of guilt overcoming her as she savoured the melted chocolate within.

‘I really hope I haven’t wasted your time. It was when I told the team last night about Moira that I remembered something that happened a few months back. It was nothing really, but I thought it might help.’

‘Anything you can tell us could help. However trivial it might seem.’

Levinson fell silent, her face taut in concentration. ‘There was a man. I would have thought nothing of it, if it hadn’t been for what he was wearing.’

Matilda placed a hand on the woman’s arm, surprised by the feel of wiry muscle. ‘Slow down. Where was this man?’

‘He was hanging outside the library, nearly every morning when I came to work. Not directly outside but over the road.’

‘When was this?’

‘A couple of months ago. March, April maybe. He was there every morning for a week. I should have notified the police but he wasn’t really doing anything except loitering. I would see him as I went into the library, and then I would check on him from my office window. He would sometimes just leave, but on one day he was there for a couple of hours.’