Page 3 of Worse Than Murder (DCI Matilda Darke Thriller #13)

The investigation was led by Detective Chief Inspector Matilda Darke.

On the day of the ransom drop, Matilda’s husband died.

He’d been suffering with an aggressive brain tumour.

She had kept his illness private, and told nobody about his death.

She returned to work as if everything was normal, clearly in denial.

Nine o’clock came and went. There was no sign of the kidnappers. Matilda’s phone rang, piercing the silence of the night with its shrill call. She answered and the kidnappers asked, angrily, where she was.

Suffering with a grief she couldn’t comprehend, Matilda’s mind was not on the task at hand.

There were two main car parks to Graves Park.

One was at the Meadowhead entrance close to the tennis courts and bowling green; the other was at Hemsworth Road near the animal farm.

The kidnappers were waiting next to the animal farm while Matilda was parked close to the tennis courts.

Believing it to be a set-up, the kidnappers fled, taking Carl with them.

Matilda was ordered to take time away from work and Carl disappeared without trace.

The Meagan family decided to leave the Steel City for a fresh start.

Less than a year later, they sold the family home and the chain of restaurants that had consumed their time, and moved to the Lake Distract to start life afresh.

Instead of building a large empire, they decided to scale back their business and bought a single restaurant in a picturesque part of the country.

Philip and Sally’s aim was to give Carl the best upbringing they could provide.

Now, it seems someone has a vendetta against the Meagans, as their lakeside restaurant, which they live above, has been targeted four times in as many weeks.

Whoever is doing this has not managed to gain entry to the restaurant, nothing has been stolen and no damage has been done, as such.

If it wasn’t for who the owners of the restaurant are, police might not be taking as much interest in the case.

However, despite six years passing since Carl was taken, his kidnappers, the murderers of his grandmother, are still out there, and Carl, despite not being able to give much of a description of the two men, is the only witness.

* * *

Claire and Alison are often paired together, which they love.

They’ve been best friends since the dawn of time and joined the police together.

Claire is itching to climb the promotional ladder.

She has dreams of becoming a chief constable, wearing power suits and being a complete bitch, whereas Alison has allowed her past to absorb her and is trailing behind her friend.

Claire is in her mid-thirties and petrified of turning forty, despite it being five years away.

She’s engaged to Geraint Turner who is a government official overseeing the decommissioning of the Sellafield nuclear site on the coast of Cumbria.

Their wedding is planned for next summer, when, hopefully, she will have her figure back from having their unplanned baby.

When she isn’t working, she and Geraint can often be found in the hills of Cumbria walking miles and posting disgustingly happy selfies on Instagram.

Despite the sometimes grim nature of the job, Claire nearly always has a cheerful smile on her face.

Alison, at thirty-four, is single and lives alone in the house she’s grown up in.

Her mother and stepfather live just around the corner on their farm.

Alison had wanted to be a police officer since she was young.

The urge to discover what happened to her sisters, and her dad, was too much to ignore, and it had bled into her soul and consumed her.

The job isn’t about promotion for Alison.

She doesn’t want to break the glass ceiling, scale new heights and be the youngest police commissioner in the country.

All she wants to do is use the skills she has learned to find out the secret that has been plaguing her family for thirty years.

It’s what keeps her awake every night and gives her the constant air of darkness shrouding her.

They pull up in the marked police car outside Nature’s Diner.

It’s an old building, dating back to the 1930s when it was originally a schoolhouse, later a convalescent home for injured soldiers during the Second World War, then a schoolhouse again, before it closed down in the 1960s.

A property developer bought it in the 1970s and made it a family home.

Unfortunately, the high price demanded made it virtually unsellable and it was left empty until the early 1980s when it was turned into a restaurant.

Under the guise of various themes, it didn’t last long and eventually closed, seemingly for good, in 1990.

Then, the Meagan family came along in 2019 and saw the potential to turn it into an exclusive organic restaurant to tap into the tourist market.

Their timing hadn’t been great. As they were due to open, the world was plunged into lockdown due to the Covid-19 pandemic.

They turned their restaurant into a takeaway business until they were able to open their doors to an eager public desperate to return to some degree of normality, sample food not cooked by themselves and see what the latest incarnation of the restaurant had to offer.

When Nature’s Diner finally opened in late 2020, it was an overnight success. Excellent food, comfortable surroundings, stunning views from picture windows, and the rumour of the celebrated owners, had kept the restaurant fully booked for months.

Claire and Alison make their way up the wooden steps and knock on the glass door of the restaurant. They peer inside as they wait. The place is in darkness. It’s only early, and the restaurant doesn’t open until lunchtime.

‘I hope this storm cools the temperatures a bit,’ Claire says. ‘This uniform isn’t made for a heatwave.’ She adjusts herself. ‘I had to wring my bra out last night.’

Alison pulls a face. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. I get very sweaty under my boobs. My greatest asset is my biggest flaw,’ she says, giving her cleavage a squeeze.

Alison stifles a laugh. ‘I love how ladylike you are,’ she says, mockingly.

‘How can you be ladylike in this bloody uniform? Mind you,’ she begins, a dirty smirk appearing on her face, ‘The other night, me and Geraint?—’

‘Oh, look, someone’s here, thank goodness,’ Alison interrupts, relieved at being saved from another graphic conversation about Claire and Geraint’s sex life.

A figure emerges from behind the bar and comes over to the door.

Philip Meagan is a tall, slim man. He wears his thinning hair cut short, is clean-shaven, and walks with a straight back and the large strides of a confident man.

He smiles when he sees the two women in uniform, and this lights up his face, giving him a friendly, approachable look.

He unlocks the door. ‘Good morning. Come on in,’ he says with that warm smile.

‘Mr Meagan. I’m Sergeant Daniels from High Chapel Police Station. This is PC Pemberton. We’re here about the attempted break-in.’

‘Yes. Well, it wasn’t a break-in as such. They didn’t actually gain entry, but they did crack a window in the utility area. Would you like to come through?’

‘Sure.’

Philip leads the way with Claire following and Alison bringing up the rear. They walk among the tables towards the kitchen. Alison looks out of the huge picture window at the expansive view of Lake Windermere. It is beautiful scenery.

‘We understand you have excellent security, Mr Meagan,’ Claire says.

‘Philip, please. Yes, the whole place is surrounded by CCTV and there’s one above the door to the utility where the glass was broken. I’ve looked and it would seem that the angle of the camera was moved, somehow, before the attempted break-in.’

‘They didn’t appear in view of the camera before it was moved?’

‘No. I’m guessing they used a pole or a large stick to move it, then sneaked in under the radar. I’ve ordered some cages from a security company to put around the cameras. These people always seem to think one step ahead, don’t they?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

They enter the utility area which is a large space, filled with industrial dishwashers and a walk-in fridge.

‘Did the alarm sound when the glass was broken?’ Claire asks as she kneels down to look closer at the broken window.

‘It’s a silent alarm. I received notification on my mobile and tablet. There’s a sensor light in every room on this floor. The room would have lit up. Maybe that’s what spooked him, and he ran off.’

‘Do you have anything valuable on the premises, Mr Meagan?’ Alison asks from further back in the room.

‘All restaurant equipment is expensive. I’m not sure what the second-hand market is like for an industrial food mixer, but I’m sure it could be sold for a few quid to fund a drug habit.’

‘Do you keep a lot of cash here?’

‘No. All of our transactions are by card.’

‘Alcohol?’

‘Yes. We have a small range of wines and spirits, but we are hoping to extend that this year.’

‘I think I read about that in the local paper. You’ve received planning permission to turn the basement into a wine cellar, haven’t you?’ Claire asks, standing to full height.

‘Yes. It’s just dead space down there and it would be perfect for a wine cellar. We could expand our range and do tasting events,’ he says. His face shows his excitement for the new project.

‘We’ll get the forensic kit from the car and test the door handles either side for prints, but…’ Claire says, trailing off.

‘Thank you. I’ve got Warren coming out to replace the glass later, is that okay?’

‘That’s fine. You are doing everything right with regards to security. Hopefully, if they do try again, you’ll have the cages up next time and we’ll get a clearer picture of who is doing this. I’m just sorry you’re having to go through it,’ she says in her best placatory tone.

‘Thank you,’ he says, seemingly mollified. ‘Can I get you both a tea or coffee?’

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Claire says with a smile. ‘As soon as you opened the front door, I got a whiff of coffee, and it set me off. I’d love a double-shot Americano with just a splash of oat milk and half a spoon of brown sugar.’

‘No problem. Would you like anything?’ he asks Alison.

‘I’ll have a tea, please.’

‘Any milk preference?’

‘I’m not as pretentious as Claire. Good old cow’s milk is fine.’

Back in the main part of the restaurant, Philip begins making the drinks while Claire and Alison go out to the car for the forensic kit.

‘Do you do private parties?’ Claire asks on returning.

‘Occasionally.’

‘Would it be cheeky if I asked for a special price for my wedding next year?’

‘Yes, it would be bloody cheeky,’ Alison says. ‘You can’t use your position for personal gain. It’s called corruption.’

Claire’s face drops as the realisation dawns. ‘Oh my God, it is, isn’t it? I’m so sorry,’ she says to Philip.

He struggles to hide his laughter.

‘It’s fine,’ he says. ‘I’m sure we can do you a good deal, simply as a local, and not as a police officer.’

‘I… Thank you. I… I’ll just…’ Claire says, reddening with embarrassing and running back into the utility room, while Alison turns away to stifle a laugh.

‘Mr Meagan,’ Alison says, stepping up to the bar.

‘Philip,’ he reminds her.

‘Sorry. Philip. When did the first attempted break-in occur?’

‘The first one was about three weeks ago, maybe four, now,’ he says, setting the hot drinks down on the counter.

‘Did anything strange, unusual, or different to the norm, happen around that time to attract attention?’

Philip pauses for a moment. ‘No. Not that I can think of.’

‘I see.’

‘Although,’ he begins. ‘We have a friend staying with us at the moment. She arrived just before the first attempt.’

‘Could this be connected with her?’

Philip struggles to find the correct words to use. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying, ‘It’s complicated.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Alison frowns. ‘Who’s your friend?’

‘She’s called Matilda. Matilda Darke. Detective Chief Inspector Matilda Darke from South Yorkshire Police. She’s sort of… in hiding.’