A Room Full of Killers, Michael Wood [best books for students to read txt] 📗

be very deep. I’d say you’re looking for a seven-inch blade, smooth edges. A kitchen carving knife, perhaps.’

‘There are no splatter marks,’ Matilda said, looking down at the pool of blood on the floor. ‘It’s not been smudged in any way. It’s like he just bled out while lying on the table.’

‘It does look like it’s been staged, doesn’t it?’

‘I don’t like the feel of this at all.’ Matilda shuddered. ‘Sian, were those doors locked?’ she asked, moving away from the table and indicating the patio doors.

‘Yes. They’re double-bolted and there’s an alarm too. If they’re tampered with in any way, it’ll go off.’

‘And did it?’

‘No.’

‘Is it working?’

‘Apparently, yes.’

‘I want it tested.’

‘Will do.’

‘I see there are cameras in here too,’ Matilda said. She pointed to a couple of outdated CCTV cameras in the corners of the room. ‘I want the recordings. Not just from the ones in here but from everywhere else in the building.’

‘OK.’

‘Sian, I’m going to want to talk to the bloke who found him, and the woman in charge. Get a room set up for us to use too. All the staff and the inmates will need interviewing. I want you and Aaron to lead the interviews. Get all the files pulled on all the inmates. I want us to know everything about them, and their crimes, before we interview them. I don’t want anyone going in blind.’

‘No problem.’

‘DCI Darke?’ Matilda turned at the mention of her name to see ACC Valerie Masterson standing in the doorway of the recreation room.

‘Shit,’ Matilda said under her breath. ‘I’ll be back in a bit, Sian. Oh, find out if there are any knives missing from the kitchen.’

Matilda headed for the exit, ducked under the crime scene tape and followed the ACC down the corridor to a quiet corner.

‘It’s definitely Ryan Asher?’ Masterson asked.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Bloody hell. I always knew something like this would happen here. I’ve never liked this place. I want this solved quickly, Matilda. No pissing about.’

Matilda had to bite her tongue. A few months before she’d led a very prestigious Murder Investigation Team dedicated to hunting killers within South Yorkshire. Budget cuts, apparently, had called time on the MIT and Matilda, and her team, were transported back to CID. Suddenly, a major case occurs and she is expected to move heaven and earth without the necessary resources.

‘Ma’am, I never piss about on a murder case. This will get the full attention of my officers, and we will work to the best of our ability.’

‘You’re not giving a press statement, Matilda. Now, is there anything you need?’

‘I’m going to need the case files of all the inmates. These are dangerous boys here; I need to know who I’m dealing with.’

‘I’ll get them sent to you. Anything else?’

‘Just a full team at my disposal.’

‘You’re in charge of CID now, Matilda, use whoever you need on this. Just get it solved and get it solved quickly. Oh, and not one word to the media.’

With that, the five-foot-nothing ACC stormed past Matilda and disappeared around the corner.

It was no exaggeration to say that ACC Valerie Masterson had been under a cloud in the last year or so. She was criticized by the media for allowing Matilda to return to work following the collapse of the Carl Meagan case. Add to the mix the lengthy Hillsborough enquiry, the unprecedented levels of sexual abuse in Rotherham and the constant unrest at Page Hall, and the media was endlessly on Masterson’s case demanding answers. A murder in the most secure and controversial place in South Yorkshire could be the final nail in the coffin of her career if it wasn’t successfully solved. Matilda could understand her brusque behaviour.

Matilda walked back to look at the crime scene. With hushed tones everyone seemed to be engrossed in their task. Matilda went over to the pool table and looked down at the dead teenager. Ryan Asher, fifteen years old: face of an angel; soul of the devil, if the press were to be believed.

‘Why here?’ Matilda asked whoever was in earshot.

‘Sorry?’ Sian asked.

‘He was locked in his room at nine o’clock last night. If anyone was going to murder him surely the best time to do it would be while he was in bed. Why risk being seen bringing him down to the recreation room to kill him?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Look at him, he’s been posed. This is a stage. This is drawing attention to his killing.’

‘What does that tell us?’

‘It tells us that this is a killer with a message. And if we don’t understand the message straightaway, there’ll be another body.’

SEVEN

The staffroom was usually a quiet, lifeless room. As their breaks were staggered there were rarely more than two or three people there at any one time. It was a case of make a coffee, drink your coffee, rinse your cup, then leave. The room wasn’t enticing either. Painted in drab creams and browns almost a decade before, it was dirty and there was a smell of rubbish coming from an overflowing bin. The painted door was covered in handprints, the mis-matched chairs were rickety and the table wonky. Even the microwave was ancient and when in use loud enough to shake the foundations.

Now, it was a buzz of conversation and gossip as officers, cleaners, and cooks gathered to talk about what had occurred overnight.

‘You know what he did, that Ryan Asher, don’t you? He killed his grandparents. I remember reading about it in The Sun – he beat them to a pulp, the bastard.’

‘He got what he deserved then, didn’t he? Some of the lads in here – locking up’s too good for them. They ought to bring back hanging for some of these killers,’ one of the cleaners, Roberta Del Mar said. ‘I hate having to go in that recreation room, especially when they’re in there. I just give it a quick flick then come straight out.’ She shuddered at the memory.

The door opened and a slim, short officer in her mid-twenties entered