‘So where did you go first to look for him?’
‘The bathroom.’
‘Then?’
‘Then the recreation room.’
Matilda looked down at the plan of Starling House she had on her lap. The bedrooms of the inmates were on the first floor; the recreation room was on the ground floor. There were other places upstairs he could have looked before going down. So why didn’t he? ‘Why there?’
‘Sorry?’
‘After the bathroom, why did you go to the recreation room?’
‘I don’t know. I just did,’ he replied.
‘What did you find?’
‘Well, the door was locked so I unlocked it and went inside. Ryan was … ’ He choked on his words and had to swallow hard. ‘He was … ’
‘In your own time, Mr Byron.’
‘You know what I’m going to say. You saw it yourself. He was on the pool table. Dead,’ he snapped.
‘Did you know he was dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘How?’
‘He wasn’t breathing.’
‘How far into the room did you go?’
‘Not far. Just a few steps.’
‘The pool table is right at the other end of the room from the door. How could you tell he was dead from just inside the doorway?’
‘Judging by how much blood there was. It was obvious he was dead.’
‘So you didn’t interfere with the crime scene or try to administer first aid?’
‘No. I didn’t do anything like that. I know I probably should have. We’re taught first aid, but I panicked. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I didn’t know what to do. I closed the door behind me and went to fetch Kate.’
‘Who else has a key to that room?’
‘We all do,’ Kate said. ‘All the staff have keys to the communal rooms. There’s no reason for them not to.’
‘The only other way into the recreation room is from the patio doors. Is that correct?’
‘That’s right,’ Kate said. ‘They’re double-locked, and there is an alarm on the doors which will sound if they are interfered with in any way.’
‘Is the alarm working?’
‘It is tested every two days. Yes, it’s working.’
‘What about the windows?’
‘They are all locked and on separate alarms to the door. And before you ask, they are also tested every two days and are working perfectly.’
‘So we have a murdered young man in a sealed room and the only people who have a key are members of your staff, Ms Moloney.’
‘If you think one of my staff is capable of that then you’re very much mistaken. All the staff are vetted many times before being employed here. I know all of their employment and personal history. None of them have a history of violence and all are capable and credible,’ she said with strong determination.
‘It would appear, on the face of it, one of them has slipped through the cracks. The only person who could have committed the crime had to have a key to the recreation room. Have any been lost or stolen recently?’
‘Not that I have been made aware of,’ she looked over to Oliver who quickly shook his head.
‘Then it would appear you have a killer on the loose here, Mrs Moloney.’
‘The whole place is full of bloody killers. Take your pick, Inspector.’
A couple of small offices had been taken over by South Yorkshire Police to use as makeshift interview rooms. Ideally, Matilda would have liked to take all the inmates to the station where their interviews could be recorded and videoed in specially equipped rooms. Matilda could monitor them from her office and potentially feed the detectives with questions through their ear pieces. However, logic, and ACC Masterson, dictated that the interviews take place on-site. It would cost money and resources to securely transfer each inmate individually to HQ and back. It was not feasible.
The rooms themselves did not have the grandeur of high ceilings and cornicing of the original building. It was obvious these had been adapted from a once larger room. The small, soulless boxes were all plasterboard, faux sash window frames and watered-down magnolia paint. The smell was of stale air. These rooms were rarely used. It wasn’t difficult to understand why.
Sian and Aaron were to each lead separate interview teams and report back to Matilda.
‘Are we all set up?’ Matilda asked.
‘Yes. Aaron and Scott are at one side of the room, myself and Rory at the other. Some of the officers are acting as appropriate adults as everyone here is under eighteen.’
‘Aaron, I hear congratulations are in order,’ Matilda said on seeing the sprightly detective bounce into the room.
‘Sorry? Oh, Katrina, yes. Thank you.’ Aaron’s face lit up. He was beaming and delighted at the thought of impending fatherhood. ‘It’s still early days but we’re both very happy.’
‘I’m pleased. Send my love to Katrina, won’t you?’
‘Of course. Thank you.’
Matilda and Aaron stood smiling at each other. Neither of them knew which way to progress this conversation. When it came to small talk, they weren’t in the same league as mothers at a school gate. The awkward silence grew. It was getting embarrassing.
‘Right, shall we get on then?’ Matilda asked.
Aaron and Scott sat close together at one side of a small table. Opposite was fifteen-year-old Callum Nixon. He was slouched in his seat. Sitting next to him, but at a safe distance, was one of the officers, bolt upright in clean, crisp uniform.
It was no exaggeration to say Aaron and Scott felt slightly uneasy in Starling House. They were away from their home ground so didn’t feel in complete control. Although they had quickly glanced at Callum’s file, they had no idea who the boy sitting across from them was and how he was going to react to their questions.
Aaron cleared his throat. ‘Callum Nixon, yes?’
‘That’s what it says on my birth certificate.’ His accent was thick Scouse.
‘How long have you been at Starling House?’
‘Since February.’
‘How are you finding it?’
‘It’s a palace. I’m loving every minute of it. Could do with having room service though.’ His replied dripped with sarcasm.
‘Do you get on with the other lads?’
He shrugged. ‘They’re all right.’
‘What do you talk about?’
‘The pros and cons of Brexit—’
‘That’ll do, Callum,’ the officer chimed up.
‘Did you meet Ryan Asher yesterday?’ Aaron asked.
‘Yes. He seemed like a sound lad. We played a bit of table tennis.’
‘What did you think of him?’
‘Like I said, he seemed sound.’