For Reasons Unknown (27 page)

WATERGATE CHURCH ‘DIGGING UP THE DEAD’

Graves are to be dug up and moved in a bid to save a local church from collapsing.

Water main pipes at St James’s Church in Watergate, Newcastle had frozen before Christmas as temperatures plunged to below minus 10C. As the thaw set in the pipes cracked and the ground beneath the church and neighbouring graveyard has become saturated, leading to weakening foundations in the eighteenth-century building.

Rev Sebastian Tolbanek said, ‘This is a very delicate operation and we have no choice but to move the gravestones and coffins in order to save the site and undertake precise work on the church. We will do our utmost to be considerate to the graves and families of the dead. I have personally written to all the families involved and informed them of our plans.

‘We need to dry out the land before work can begin in the early spring. I hope to have the graveyard restored before the end of the summer. In the meantime, family members will still be able to pay their respects to loved ones buried here.’

The Church has been raising funds for the project for the past three years. However, the recent bitter weather has forced work to begin early.

Rev Tolbanek has promised that any coffins which are too damaged to be removed from the ground will be respectfully dealt with and arrangements for reburial made after consultation with surviving relatives.

New Year’s Day – Ten days later

Matilda Darke was alone in the incident room. She had worked all through the Christmas and New Year period, despite protestations from Adele and Val Masterson. Her mother had eventually got through to her on Christmas Eve and practically begged her down the phone to join the family. She apologized and said she wanted to ignore Christmas as much as possible this year, but promised she would make the effort next year. She enjoyed a late Christmas lunch with Adele and Chris, and at one point, as they exchanged gifts, Matilda forgot everything in the world and felt a modicum of happiness. It wasn’t long before she remembered her reality and was no longer in the mood to celebrate the festive season. If she had stayed with the Keans she would have dragged their mood down to her level and they didn’t deserve that. She thanked them, not just for their presents and hospitality, but for everything. Then she left.

This Christmas was a complete contrast to the one before. She’d had four days off work and had spent them all at home with James. They’d cooked a big lunch together, opened gifts together, and watched
Doctor Who
together, completely closed off from the outside world. They loved every minute of it.

James had recently been diagnosed with a brain tumour but had been told it was benign. They knew he would be facing a delicate operation in the coming months, but for the festive season they were not dwelling on that. When he went for a follow-up MRI scan on January 6 he was told the bad news; the tumour had rapidly mutated and there was nothing they could do. Matilda and James would not be celebrating another Christmas together.

The door to the Murder Room opened and DC Scott Andrews entered wearing a new coat and new matching scarf and gloves, obviously a Christmas present.

‘What are you doing here?’ Matilda asked, looking up.

‘I swapped with Rory. Apparently his fiancée’s parents were having a New Year’s Eve party in Dumfries so I said I’d work today for him.’

‘Didn’t you have any New Year plans?’

‘Not unless you count sitting in the local boozer with your neighbours waiting for the clock to hurry up and get to midnight so you can make an excuse to go home and plan.’

Matilda smirked. ‘Put the kettle on Scott and we’ll finish off those chocolate biscuits Sian brought in on Boxing Day. Nice coat by the way.’

‘Thanks,’ he beamed. ‘I went to Meadowhall for the sales.’

‘You’re a brave man. Was it busy?’

‘Packed. I got elbowed, shoved, and stepped on. Never again.’

Matilda laughed. She was never a fan of shopping, especially for clothes. Items that she liked always looked better on the mannequins than on her. It didn’t help that the mannequins had perfect figures, while she was a misshaped size 12 with chunky thighs.

Scott brought over the box of biscuits, balancing two cups of tea on top, and set it down on Matilda’s desk. ‘Have you heard any more about DI Hales?’ he asked, using his correct title now that Matilda seemed to be back full-time.

‘No. The ACC is waiting until we get over the New Year celebrations before a decision is made. Same with us really, too.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The MIT is up for review. Give it a month and we may all be investigating burglaries and car thefts.’

‘Great start to the New Year. Perhaps I should have kept the receipts.’ Andrews slumped in his seat and looked despondent. ‘Any resolutions?’

‘No. I don’t bother with that kind of thing,’ she lied. She had promised herself to change her life around this coming year, be more positive, and show the world and her boss that she was back to her best. ‘How about you?’

‘No. I was talking to my sister about it the other day and neither of us have got any vices we’d like to give up. We’re a bloody boring family.’

The phone rang; the first time since Matilda arrived four hours ago.

‘I’m trying to reach a Detective Chief Inspector Matilda Darke,’ said a very strong and deep Newcastle accent.

‘You’ve reached her. How can I help?’

‘I’m Detective Sergeant Kevin Schofield from Newcastle CID. I gather you’re working on the Harkness double killings.’

Something told Matilda that this was going to be a phone call that would make her day. She sat up and listened.

Andrews could tell from her face that this was an important call. He froze, midway through dunking a chocolate biscuit into his tea, and stared at her with raised eyebrows.

‘I am indeed.’ Her mouth was dry with anticipation.

‘I don’t know if you’ve heard about the problems we’ve been having with the weather up here, but a church has had a burst water pipe and the whole graveyard is having to be dug up in order to lay new pipes.’

Matilda had no idea where this was going and was starting to lose interest. She looked into the box of biscuits to see which one she would have next.

DS Schofield continued. ‘A few of the coffins, naturally, have become very fragile over the years and several disintegrated when they were removed. As I’m sure you can imagine this is not a pleasant sight. As the workmen were clearing up one particular grave they found something and called us in. We think it may be of some use to you.’

Once again Matilda’s interest was piqued. ‘Go on.’

‘The grave belonged to a Clara Ann Harkness. Does the name ring a bell?’

‘Yes it does.’

‘As the coffin was lifted out of the grave it practically disintegrated. Inside the coffin we found a seven-inch kitchen knife. It was heavily rusted but tests have shown traces of blood around the base of the handle. We’re still waiting for DNA results to come back, but I thought you’d be interested.’

‘I am very interested,’ she said. ‘You have no idea how interested I am. DS Schofield you may have just become my new best friend.’

There was no time to lose. DC Andrews followed Matilda out of the room, trotting to keep up with her long strides. She hadn’t explained to him what the call was about, that could be done in the car; she just told him to grab his new coat. She had a beaming smile on her face. This was the start to the New Year she was looking for. Fingers crossed it was an omen and her fortunes were about to change for the better.

‘So you knew all along that Jonathan killed his family?’ Scott asked from the passenger seat.

‘Not all along, but I suspected. He did confess from his hospital bed, but there was no way I could have used it and he was hardly likely to give me a signed statement. It was evidence that I needed, and that has been the one thing that’s been lacking throughout the whole case.’

‘Until now.’

‘Until now,’ she repeated, and grinned.

They pulled up outside Jonathan’s apartment block and Matilda couldn’t get her seatbelt off quick enough.

It was a very cold morning. The snow that had fallen just before Christmas was still covering the pavements. It would be a long time before a thaw would set in. Everything was coated in a thick layer of frost and the roads were extremely slippery. Walking was a very difficult task. Matilda didn’t care. She took great confident steps while Andrews was more cautious behind her.

Inside, the building wasn’t much warmer either, but Matilda wasn’t interested in the temperature. She had her mind set on producing her evidence to Jonathan and watching the look on his face drop. His lifetime of manipulation was finally over.

She rang the bell and rang it again barely a couple of seconds later. There was no reply, so she knocked loudly and rang once more.

The front door to the flat opposite opened and a large elderly woman resting all her weight on a walking frame appeared.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked, fighting for breath.

The heat that came out from behind her hit the two detectives in the face. It was no surprise she was struggling for breath living in a sauna.

‘We’re looking for Jonathan Harkness. Do you know where he is?’

‘He went out last night. Are you the police?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is one of you Matilda Darke?’

Matilda and Scott looked at each other and almost smiled. ‘Yes. I am.’

‘He left a letter for you. He asked me to give it to you if you came looking for him. Do you want it?’

‘Yes please.’ She frowned. Of course she wanted it.

The elderly neighbour went back into her flat to get the letter. She took her time and was very wobbly on her feet. They waited and continued to wait until she eventually returned. She apologized for keeping them waiting and made a joke about it not being fun getting old. They said their goodbyes and the neighbour went back to the boiler room she called her flat.

Matilda turned away from Andrews and opened the envelope. Inside was a letter and a newspaper cutting from a couple of days ago which told the story of the cemetery at Watergate being dug up. She read the headline but didn’t bother with the story. The letter was more important to her.

‘What is it?’ Scott asked, after Matilda had finished reading the letter and looked up.

‘It’s Jonathan’s confession and I think his suicide note too.’

‘Suicide? Shall I get on to uniform to come and knock his door down?’

‘No. I don’t think he’ll be in there.’

‘Then where is he then?’

Matilda didn’t reply. Slowly, she walked past Andrews and out of the building. She didn’t say a word to him as she drove them down the street and turned left. She knew exactly where she was going.

She had solved the case, or rather the case had been solved for her, but she didn’t feel any euphoria or celebration, she felt empty.

She turned into Abbey Lane Cemetery and pulled up at the side of the road. A large cemetery, it has more than 25,000 graves. Unless you know where to go you could spend days trying to find what you’re looking for. Matilda knew exactly where to go.

She walked in silence and at a slow pace over the hard frozen ground through row after row of well-kept graves; white marble headstones with gold lettering, black headstones with a framed picture of a much-missed loved one. The older tombs were grander, with more ornate stonework. Over the years tastes had simplified and less was certainly more.

At the end of a row was the grave she was looking for, and she stopped in her tracks. Scott almost bumped into her. She looked ahead at the sight she had been expecting.

The grave belonged to Stephen Egan, and on the ground just under the headstone, lying in the foetal position, was the frozen body of Jonathan Harkness. He was curled up tight, arms firmly wrapped around his knees. His face was pale and his lips blue; a coating of frost in his hair and his dry eyes wide op
en.