Michael Wood - Outside Looking In

‘Sure.’

‘Sian, what’s happening with Mr Rainsford?’

Sian looked up from her notebook where she had been making extensive notes. ‘PC Grabowski stayed with them overnight. I called her first thing and he’s actually feeling a lot better after a good night’s sleep. She’s bringing him in after he’s showered.’

‘OK. Sian will you interview him and keep me informed?’

‘No problem.’

‘Thanks. Right, I’m going to have a word with the ACC about getting more people in this room to make it look less like a gathering of the Nick Clegg fan club.’

‘Boss,’ Rory called out, putting the phone down, ‘that was a nurse from the hospital I got chatting to last night. The woman is stable, but still critical. There’s evidence she was raped.’

ACC Valerie Masterson was enjoying breakfast at her desk. Like Matilda, she also had trouble sleeping. Once the phone call had come through about the double shooting the logistics of the case weighed heavily on her mind; this could possibly be the Murder Room’s final investigation.

Much to the annoyance of her retired husband, Valerie decided to come to work early. She wanted to prepare for the battle with Matilda. Valerie believed her still to be a fragile individual; she had only been back at work four months and in that time she had faced a fight for leadership of the Murder Room, and internal scrutiny of her ability to carry out her duties. There could have been better resumptions to her career.

The loud knock on the door did not surprise Valerie – she had actually expected it sooner than this. She was tempted to say ‘Come in Matilda,’ but decided against flippancy.

Matilda burst into the room with all the grace and determination of a charging bull.

‘Good morning, Matilda. Coffee?’

‘Please.’

‘I know why you’re here,’ Valerie began, her back to Matilda as she prepared the coffees, ‘I need you to listen to what I have to say first before you erupt.’

‘I have no intention of erupting.’ Matilda’s tense white lips told a different story.

Valerie handed over the cup and saucer remembering that Matilda took her coffee black with no sugar. It was very hot and very strong. Matilda took a sip; it was good coffee. She placed it carefully on the desk.

The silence in the room was crippling; it was like a Mexican stand-off – who would blink first. Valerie sat behind her large desk, which looked bigger than it was due to her small stature.

‘I want you to know that I fought long and hard for the Murder Room to be kept open. You’ve done a brilliant job in building up an impressive reputation, and figures have proven its success.’

‘So why is it closing?’ Despite wanting to remain calm, the firmly folded arms across Matilda’s chest suggested otherwise.

‘It’s 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.