sidetracked, and temporarily blinded by the hallway light. A thought suddenly struck Matilda. Was this Kevin Hardaker’s wife? Of course she could be a neighbour or a relative, but something told Matilda this wasn’t the case. Which begged the question: who the hell was the woman he was parked with on a quiet country lane?
She broached the question cautiously. ‘Mrs Hardaker?’
‘Yes.’
Behind Matilda, Scott and Joseph exchanged nervous glances.
She held up her warrant card. ‘I’m DCI Matilda Darke from South Yorkshire Police …’ Was there a flash of recognition on the woman’s face at the mention of her name? Had she read tonight’s copy of The Star? ‘This is DC Andrews and DC Glass. May we have a word?’
‘Oh God,’ the greeting smile fell from the woman’s face. ‘Has something happened?’
‘Perhaps we could come inside.’
Alice Hardaker stepped to one side and allowed the three detectives to enter. She closed the door firmly, even putting the security chain on, and led them into a very large living room. The decoration was minimalistic; two large sofas, a large-screen TV with various consoles attached, and a solitary bookcase housing DVDs, games, the odd ornament, but strangely, no books.
‘Mrs Hardaker, your husband …?’
‘Kevin.’
Again Scott and Joseph Glass exchanged nervous glances. They could have conducted this entire interview with their facial expressions alone.
‘Does he drive a silver Citroen Xsara with the registration number …?’ She looked at Scott who rapidly flicked through his notebook.
‘YP52 XPD.’
‘Yes that’s right,’ Alice said. A heavy frown appeared on her forehead and she started to play with the loose collar on her shirt to give her hands something to do. ‘Has there been an accident?’ Her hands were shaking, fearing the worst.
‘Mrs Hardaker, a short time ago this car was found on Clough Lane, just off Quiet Lane …’
‘Oh. He’s had an accident hasn’t he? I hate that road. Is he OK?’
‘Mrs Hardaker—’
‘Alice, please.’
‘Alice, I’m afraid an incident has taken place involving your husband. As a result, he received a number of gunshot wounds.’
Alice stumbled and held out an arm to grab on to something. She found the flowery sofa and gently eased herself into it. Upon hearing the words gunshot wounds, Alice’s face lost all colour. ‘What? He’s been shot?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘But he’s going to be all right isn’t he?’
‘Alice, he didn’t make it. He was dead when we got to the scene.’
Alice thought for a while. It was as if she hadn’t heard what Matilda had said. She swallowed hard. Her bottom lip quivered and tears formed in the corners of her eyes. ‘No. That’s not possible. He wouldn’t need to go on Quiet Lane this evening.’ She fought hard to keep control of her emotions but she was fighting a losing battle. ‘He was going to play tennis straight from work. He wouldn’t come home that way. Maybe … maybe he’s had his keys stolen from the locker room or something. Kevin mentioned about some things being stolen from lockers a few months ago. That’s what’s happened hasn’t it? Someone’s stolen his car and they’ve been killed. Oh my God, I should call him.’
With shaking fingers, she picked up her mobile and frantically looked for her husband’s number. She held the phone tight, her knuckles turning white. She waited for her call to be answered.
‘I can see why you think it’s Kevin. It’s definitely his car, but it won’t be him.’ Her nervous laugh was loud and forced. ‘You had me worried for a while there thinking he was dead, blimey. He’s not picking up. Strange.’ She looked at the phone and disconnected the call. ‘They sometimes go for a drink afterwards. I’ll give Jeremy a call; his phone is practically glued to his hand.’ While waiting for the call to be connected she ran her free hand frantically through her thick, dark red mane of hair.
Alice’s denial made the atmosphere uncomfortable. Matilda stood back and watched until realization dawned. There was very little else she could do. Scott was interested in the framed photographs on the mantelpiece and Joseph Glass looked almost as upset as Alice; as if it were him receiving the bad news.
It had been a while since Matilda had had to deliver the death message. The last time she’d heard it she’d been on the receiving end; a shattered-looking nurse stated the obvious ‘he’s gone, Mrs Darke,’ as she held the cold hand of her husband.
‘Jeremy, it’s Alice. Is Kevin with you?… No? OK. What time did he leave you?… Oh … Don’t you?… No, nothing’s wrong. I’ll talk to you later, Jeremy.’ She hung up and slumped further into the sofa. She held the phone to her chest. ‘Jeremy hasn’t seen Kevin for weeks. They stopped playing tennis together ages ago. What’s going on?’ She looked up at Matilda. A single tear fell from her right eye.
Joseph stepped forward and sat down on the sofa next to Alice.
‘Is there anybody you’d like me to call?’
‘Erm, no I don’t think so. There’s my sister but she’s away. I could call her, I suppose.’
‘I see you have children, Mrs Hardaker,’ he said, nodding to the school photographs on the wall. ‘Are they in the house?’
She nodded a reply. ‘Oh my God, the kids. What am I going to say to them? They love their dad. Warren dotes on him. They’re supposed to be going to the Wednesday match this weekend.’
‘Alice, I’m going to leave DC Glass with you,’ Matilda interrupted, wanting to get out of the house. The dark atmosphere was unbearable. She could feel the walls closing in. ‘I’m going to find out what’s happening. I will definitely keep you informed. If there’s anything you need, let Joseph know and he’ll get on to me.’ She looked down at the weeping Alice who hadn’t taken in a single word of what she’d said. ‘I’ll see myself out.’
Matilda nodded to Scott to follow her. She mouthed ‘call me’ to Joseph. He replied with a small sympathetic smile.
Matilda couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. The blast of cold air was like a slap. She took a deep breath to regain her composure. She could tell Scott was going to ask her how she was feeling so she dug her phone out of her pocket and quickly made a call.
‘Aaron it’s me. Are you still at the crime scene?’
‘Yes. Why? What’s wrong?’
‘I’m at Kevin Hardaker’s home and just broke the news of his death to his wife. The woman he was with is not his wife.’
‘Bloody hell. Who is she then?’
‘I’ve no idea. That’s what I want you to find out.’
‘Rory’s at the hospital.’
‘Right I’ll give him a ring. Is Dr Kean still there?’
‘No. She got a call. There’s been a suicide on London Road; she’s gone to attend.’
Bloody hell, it’s all go tonight. ‘Is there anything there at all that can identify who the woman is?’
‘Nothing at all. There are no mobiles, no purse, no bag. It’s like she’s never been in the car before.’
‘Oh God.’
‘What?’
‘They were parked in a quiet lay-by. Why would a married man have a woman who isn’t his wife with him while they’re parked in a tree-lined lay-by?’
‘You think she’s