Page 8 of Worse Than Murder

Alison and Claire have been around the farms to check they are prepared and on standby should the forecast storm hit as hard as predicted. On their way back to High Chapel, with Claire driving, Alison digs out her phone and opens Google. The mention of DCI Matilda Darke by Philip Meagan has been niggling away at her mind for most of the day. She’s heard of Matilda, obviously– she has made the news many times due to the high-profile investigations she’s successfully led over the years– but Alison wants to know what has brought Matilda all the way to the Lake District. Has whatever was happening to her in Sheffield followed her to Cumbria?

‘I mean, I like some of the old-fashioned names,’ Claire says as she pulls up at a red light. ‘For a boy, I quite like Harold and, if it’s a girl, I’m torn between Maud and Ethel. But Geraint wants to name her after his grandmother, if we have a girl. She’s a lovely woman, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t call my daughter Clementine. Are you even listening?’

‘Sorry?’ Alison looks up.

‘Have you heard a word I’ve just said?’

‘Yes.’

‘Really? What was I talking about, then?’

‘Erm, something about satsumas?’

Claire puts the car into gear and sets off. ‘Oh God, I’m definitely vetoing Clementine. I don’t want no daughter of mine coming home from school in tears because some little bitch has called her an easy peeler.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘It doesn’t matter. What’s so important you’re engrossed in your phone? You’re glaring at it like naked pictures of Ryan Reynolds have just been leaked online.’

‘You wish.’

‘I do, actually,’ she says, wistfully. ‘I wish my Geraint looked like Ryan Reynolds.’

‘Geraint is a very good-looking guy,’ Alison says, without looking up from her phone.

‘He is. But he’s no Ryan Reynolds. When he grew that moustache during lockdown he looked more like Bert Reynolds. I still can’t believe he left the house with it. We wouldn’t be getting married if he’d kept it.’ She turns to Alison to see her still scrutinising her phone. ‘Are you going to tell me what you’re looking at?’

‘Philip Meagan said that DCI Matilda Darke from South Yorkshire Police was staying with them. She arrived just as the attempted break-ins began. I’m wondering if they’re connected.’

‘And how is Google going to help you with that?’

‘There’s an article here written last month for theGuardianby Danny Hanson. Apparently, there’s a killer in South Yorkshire who’s been taunting Matilda, sending her emails, telling her who and where his victims are. According to this, he did something to Matilda’s mother’s gas fire to make sure it leaked and killed her by carbon monoxide poisoning.’

‘Bloody hell.’

‘At the time, Matilda’s two nephews were staying with her mother, and they died too.’

‘But how do they know the killer purposely tampered with the fire? Couldn’t it have been a genuine case of carbon monoxide poisoning?’

‘No. The killer told Matilda what he’d done in an email.’

Claire creases up her face. She looks sceptical. ‘But if Netflix has taught us anything, it’s that serial killers are, by design, liars. How can we take what he said to be true? Maybe he’s a fantasist. Maybe he found out they’d died in a genuine accident and wanted to claim it for himself.’

Alison looks up from her phone for the first time. ‘Huh. I suppose that could be true. Maybe. Bit of a coincidence, though.’

‘Either way, it’s sad about her family. No wonder she’s decided to have a break for a while. Now, do you want me to drop you off at home or are you coming back to the station?’

‘Actually, could you drop me off at the stables? I want to visit my mum.’

‘Sure.’

‘What are your plans for this evening?’

‘Quiz night at the Frog and Toad. It’s a rollover. First prize is £150.’

‘Wow. A life-changing amount.’

‘If I don’t come in tomorrow, you’ll know I’ve won and am currently in Tahiti,’ she smiles.