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

she said he was charming, sweet, funny, the perfect gentleman. He displayed absolutely no signs that he’d just killed his entire family.’

‘Bloody hell,’ Rory uttered. ‘So, the boys in here—’

‘I can’t comment on their mental health conditions, obviously. However, I will tell you that many of them are on medication to control or subdue their behaviour, and all of them are required to attend regular therapy sessions as part of their sentence.’

‘Can a child be cured?’

‘You’ve said yourself you don’t believe a child is born evil so you must believe circumstance has led them to commit their crime. Therefore, if it is a mental illness then it can be controlled with medication and therapy.’

‘It’s a lot to take in,’ Rory said, blowing out his cheeks.

‘It is, but don’t allow yourself to be consumed by it.’

‘That’s what my boss always says.’ He smiled.

‘Your boss is correct. You seem like a capable detective. You’re looking at these boys wondering what you personally can do to help them, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’ He nodded.

‘By the time you meet people like the inmates in here they’ve already committed their crimes. What you can do is make sure they’re heard when it comes to their defence. Treat each one differently, and with respect. It’s rare for people to kill just for the fun of it. Take Ryan Asher, for example; someone had a reason to kill him. They didn’t do it because of what he’d done to bring him here. They did it because they felt it made sense to them. That’s what you need to find out.’

‘So the killer is someone who knows Ryan.’

‘As Ryan wasn’t here for very long, I’d say it’s almost a certainty he was killed by someone who knew him.’

‘So we’re not looking at a fellow inmate as his killer then?’

‘No,’ Henrik replied firmly. ‘I would stake my career on it not being a fellow inmate.’

TWENTY-NINE

Pat and Anton Campbell were sitting in Costa in the centre of Manchester. It could have been any Costa in any city in the country as they all looked alike. Pat had even chosen a two-seat table by the window like she did her favourite coffee shop in Sheffield. While Anton fetched the coffee and muffins, Pat sent a text to her son asking if he had time to meet them.

‘Has he got back to you yet?’ Anton asked.

‘What’s that?’ Pat asked looking at the heavy tray Anton was carrying.

‘Carrot cake.’

‘You’re on a diet.’

‘Only in Sheffield.’

Pat struggled to hide her laughter. ‘That’s a cop-out if ever I heard one.’

‘Today is a break from the norm so I’m having a treat. If you don’t want your blueberry muffin I can take it back and buy you a packet of raisins or something.’

‘Don’t you bloody dare.’

Anton sat opposite his wife and greedily tucked into his large slice of carrot cake. He looked content. Pat wondered if she should slacken the reins at home and allow a packet of chocolate biscuits into the cupboard occasionally. What was the point in living a long life if you were miserable because you ate nothing but Ryvita?

Pat’s phone beeped an incoming text message. ‘He’s on lunch in half an hour. He says he’ll come and say hello.’ She relayed the message to Anton.

‘You’re not just going to jump straight in, are you? We don’t see him that often. I don’t want him to think we’ve only come over because we want a favour.’

‘I’m not totally insensitive, you know.’

Anton rolled his eyes.

Detective Sergeant John Campbell met his parents within ten minutes of receiving his mother’s text. It was rare for them to come to Manchester, and he had a feeling they hadn’t come to do some shopping. His father hated shopping, and his mother preferred to do it online as she always said she had more important things to do with the time she had left than trying on clothes in a fitting room cubicle the size of a public toilet.

He found them in the corner of Costa and greeted them both with a hug, then sat on the seat next to his father.

‘There seems to be something growing out of your upper lip,’ his mother said.

‘It’s called stubble, mother. I can’t be bothered to shave every day.’

‘Appearances are very important, John. I don’t want people thinking you were dragged up to go to work looking like a vagrant.’

‘Are you going to check behind my ears while you’re here and ask if I’m eating enough fruit and vegetables?’

‘No,’ Pat replied, giving him a scornful look she only half meant. ‘I will enquire as to how you and Diane are getting on.’

‘Diane’s fine, thanks. She’s in Glasgow this week on a training course.’

‘Lovely. She still doesn’t want kids I take it?’

‘No, she doesn’t and neither do I, Mum. Don’t you think you’ve got enough grandchildren with our Cheryl popping one out every five minutes?’

‘Your father wants you to have a child so you can carry on the family name.’

‘No, I don’t,’ Anton chimed in. ‘Don’t let her pressure you, John. I think it’s admirable you don’t want kids. It’s a rotten world to bring children into. Fingers crossed Cheryl stops at five.’

‘So.’ John exclaimed loudly before Pat could continue. ‘What’s your real reason for coming over the Snake Pass?’

‘I told you – shopping.’

‘Where are your bags?’

‘We haven’t started yet.’

‘It’s almost two o’clock. Don’t you think you should have started by now? I know how you hate driving in rush hour traffic.’

‘Oh, just tell him Pat, for crying out loud,’ Anton moaned, his mouth full of carrot cake.

‘Tell me what?’

‘I want to ask a favour,’ Pat began. ‘Do you remember the Hartley murders from a couple of years ago?’

‘Of course I remember. I’m hardly likely to forget am I? It’s the worst crime scene I’ve ever come across.’

‘Well, Thomas Hartley is in Starling House in Sheffield.’

‘I’m aware.’

‘Are you aware that he’s innocent.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Anton injected.

‘DCI Matilda Darke believes he shouldn’t be in Starling House. She’s asked me if I’ll look into it.’

‘DCI Darke?