Shallow Ground (Detective Ford), Andy Maslen [ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt] 📗

a cautious sip of the herbal tea, blowing first across its steaming surface. He winced. ‘Ouch! Burnt myself!’

Jools pooched out her bottom lip. ‘I know just how that feels, did it myself last week. Silly cow!’ she finished, smiling sympathetically.

Matty grinned back at her.

‘Matty,’ Ford said softly, to catch his attention. ‘First of all I need you to know that, as this is a voluntary interview, you can leave whenever you like. You are also entitled to legal advice. And you don’t have to answer any of our questions, OK?’

Matty nodded, and tried his tea again. ‘I’m happy to help, honestly. What with all these awful’ – he dropped his voice to a whisper – ‘murders, I think it’s the least I can do.’

Ford looked at him. How shall I present myself to you? He wasn’t as tall as Matty, but he was in good shape, broad through the shoulders and with a flat stomach. People told him his brown eyes turned dark when he was angry and that he clenched his jaw in a way that gave him a mean look, as if he wanted to hurt the person he was interviewing. Which, he reflected, was often true.

Lean back and look relaxed, or forward, hands clasped loosely: interested.

He leaned back and nodded for Jools to begin.

‘Did you know Angie Halpern?’ she asked.

‘Angie Halpern,’ Matty repeated, looking at the ceiling. ‘No.’

‘She was a nurse.’

‘Was she one of the victims?’

‘That’s right.’

‘I wish I could help. But I don’t know her. Didn’t,’ he corrected himself.

‘We think whoever killed her was interested in blood. You know, a bit like you.’

‘Me?’ he said, raising his voice. ‘I’m not interested in blood.’

‘Oh. I thought you told me yesterday you were.’

‘No. You’re wrong. I said I was interested in all sorts of things. Not blood specifically.’

‘And you didn’t draw a face in a pool of blood after a doctor dropped it?’

‘No! I already told you,’ he said, scratching his right cheek then rubbing the tip of his nose. ‘That woman’s so short-sighted, I’m surprised they let her dish out drugs. She’ll end up giving fentanyl to someone in for a minor op and killing them.’

Ford’s antennae twitched. Fentanyl.

‘I checked with Sister McLaughlin,’ Jools said. ‘She was adamant she saw you. And she seemed perfectly clear-sighted to me,’ she finished pleasantly.

‘You don’t know her like I do,’ Matty said. ‘She’s got it in for me. Just because I’m a porter.’

Ford sat forward. ‘Are you married, Matty?’ he asked.

Matty stumbled over his reply. ‘Er, yes. I am. Five years now. Her name’s Jennifer. I call her Jen, though.’

‘Nice name. Does she work?’

‘She wanted to be a nurse. But they want everyone to be a graduate nowadays.’

‘Like the police,’ Ford said. ‘Soon you won’t be able to mend the road without a degree.’ He added a spread-hands, ‘Whaddya gonna do?’ gesture.

‘She works in a care home now. For the elderly. She loves it there. The old ladies like her to read to them.’

‘A caring soul.’

‘She is,’ Matty said.

Ford smiled. ‘This is going to sound a bit official – sorry. Are you able to provide details of your whereabouts on the dates the murders were committed?’

Matty pulled his head down so that his chin tucked in and thin rolls of fat appeared beneath it. ‘I can try. When were they?’

Ford handed him a sheet of paper with the times and dates printed out in two rows.

Matty looked up at Ford. ‘I’m not sure, but I was probably at home with Jen,’ he said. ‘We try not to go out much because we’re saving up for a deposit on a new house. I could check with her, if you like. She does everything on her calendar. A real one. Paper,’ he added.

‘Of course. Ask her at home and call me once you’ve checked on the calendar.’ He handed Matty a business card.

Matty slipped the card into a worn leather wallet. ‘Was there anything else?’ he asked, looking at his watch.

‘No, I think that’s everything for now. Thank you so much for coming in, Matty, you’ve been really helpful.’

Ford stood and extended his hand. They shook. Matty’s grip was firm but damp.

‘Hard work, being a hospital porter, I should imagine,’ he said, holding Matty’s hand for a fraction longer.

‘I manage,’ Matty said, with a small smile.

After Matty had left the nick Ford called Jools into his office.

‘Well?’ he said.

‘He’s lying. About a lot of things. I checked his last few weeks’ shifts. He worked with Angie five times.’

‘Maybe he has other reasons for lying. But if his alibi checks out, we’re back to square one.’

‘What, “I was at home watching telly with the missus”? That old one?’

‘People have been known to do that.’

She shook her head, as if denying the reality that ordinary people did, in fact, spend their evenings slumped in front of the flat screen watching soaps or reality TV.

‘I want to keep an eye on him,’ she said.

‘There’s no budget for surveillance, you know that.’

‘Fair enough. But I want to dig into his background a bit more.’

‘Go for it.’ It’s not him.

DAY NINE, 8.35 A.M.

The next morning, Ford arrived to find an email from Georgina.

Subject: Prelim PM findings on P. Eadon

Hi Henry,

I know you’ll be champing at the bit, so here are my top-line findings on Paul Eadon.

MOD Homicide

COD Exsanguination (trocar inserted into left femoral artery)

TOD Between 9.00 a.m. and 1.00 p.m.

Large bruise on back of neck consistent with a ‘rabbit punch’. Clear imprints of knuckles. Eadon was 5’8”. Angle of blow indicates attacker to be 5’10” or taller.

Hyoid bone broken. Bruising round throat indicates manual strangulation (non-fatal).

Coarse toxicology fast-tracked. No fentanyl. Presence of alcohol.

You’ll have my full report by the end of today.

G

The rest of the day passed in a flurry of meetings, briefings and a court appearance on an unrelated case. At 5.00 p.m., Ford made his way to Forensics. He found Hannah squinting at a screen on which two partial fingerprints were displayed.

‘What have you got there?’ he asked.

‘On the