In the car on the way, Aaron filled Matilda in on the details. It sounded frighteningly similar to the Brian Appleby murder. The victim, in this case, was Joe Lacey, who was not on the sex offender’s register but was known to the police.
On the 1st of January 1997, following a New Year’s Eve party with his girlfriend, Karen, who later became his wife, he dropped off Karen at her flat and drove home. It was nine o’clock in the morning and Joe had been drinking since early afternoon the previous day. He knocked down and killed eight-year-old Rebecca Branson. He didn’t stop.
Later that day, the police called to his flat and arrested him for causing death by dangerous driving. He was breathalyzed and found to be five times over the legal limit. He was sentenced to twelve years in prison, but was released in 2004 after seven years, aged only 24.
Since then he had gone on to marry Karen and have three children. His life had returned to normal, which was more than can be said for the parents of Rebecca Branson.
It was pitch-dark by the time the pool car pulled up outside the semi-detached house in Meersbrook. Crime scene tape surrounded the house and a uniformed officer was outside the front door. The usual gawkers were standing on the pavement, arms folded firmly across their chests to stave off the cold, a look of angst and worry on their faces. Secretly, they were enjoying the change from the norm. This beat watching cheap reality shows on television.
DC Faith Easter climbed out of the car from behind the wheel. ‘Bloody hell it’s freezing. I wish I’d brought my gloves.’
Sian Mills almost slipped on a patch of black ice. ‘I’m going to have to get some better grips on these shoes.’
Matilda led the way to the house. She was presented with a white paper suit from PC Harrison and slipped into it with ease.
‘What the hell is that?’ Matilda asked sticking her head around the corner into the dining room.
‘Wow, that’s so cool,’ Faith said. ‘It’s a Minion.’
‘What’s a Minion?’
‘It’s a PC who stands guard in freezing temperatures,’ came the reply from PC Harrison outside.
Both Sian and Faith laughed.
‘It’s a character from a film,’ Sian corrected.
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ Matilda said.
‘We’re in here,’ a call came out from the garage.
It was accessed from a door in the hallway next to the kitchen. Artificial white light from floodlights filled the freezing cold room. An Audi was parked in the middle, shelves full of oddities lined both sides. At the top of the room, three steps made from MDF led down to the garage. From a hook in the ceiling hung the lifeless body of Joe Lacey.
Standing on a stepladder next to the body was a blue-suited Adele Kean. ‘Good evening, Matilda.’
‘Evening, Adele,’ Matilda replied, looking directly at the hanging man. He had a white pillowcase over his head. The rope resembled the one used to hang Brian Appleby, and Matilda counted thirteen turns in the noose. This was definitely no coincidence. She swallowed hard and forced down the bile rising in her stomach. It wasn’t the sight of a hanging man that made her feel sick, it was the thought of a killer striking again.
‘His feet aren’t touching the floor; would the drop be enough to kill him?’ Matilda asked, remembering her conversation with Simon Browes at Brian Appleby’s post-mortem.
‘His feet are only eight inches off the ground. He could have been strung up rather than pushed off the top step. At a guess, I’d say asphyxiation.’
‘Who found him?’
Sian entered the garage, took one look at the hanging body, then down to her notepad. ‘According to the first responder, it was the victim’s son, Jason. He’s only five. In fact, today is his fifth birthday.’
‘Bloody hell, he’s not going to forget this birthday in a long while.’
‘The mother, Karen, was out with all three kids. Joe was getting the house ready for a birthday party. They came home, Jason comes rushing in and finds him hanging.’
‘What time did they leave this morning?’
‘About ten o’clock. Ish.’
‘And what about when they came back home?’
‘Around five o’clock.’
‘Adele?’ Matilda asked.
‘You know I don’t like time of death questions.’
‘After ten o’clock this morning?’
‘Yes. I’d say anything from noon until the time he was found. That’s a guess. Listen to what the neighbours say and go with that,’ she warned.
‘Thank you, Adele.’ Matilda smiled. ‘Where are the family now?’
‘Karen’s sister lives three doors down; they’re in there. The kids are distraught,’ Sian said.
‘How’s the mother?’
‘Quiet, by all accounts.’
‘OK. We’ll leave them for tonight. Get an FLO to stay with them. I want them all interviewed first thing in the morning.’
‘Are you happy with what you’ve seen, Matilda? Can we cut him down and take him to the mortuary?’ Adele said.
‘Yes, sure.’
‘Can someone help me take the weight of this man, please, so I can unhook the rope?’ Adele called out to anyone who would listen.
‘Two seconds,’ Lucy Dauman said placing the pillowcase carefully into an evidence bag.
Matilda turned away from her friend. She led Faith by the arm to the other side of the garage. ‘Faith, you’re good with computers, have a look online for anyone who thinks people like Joe Lacey or Brian Appleby should have served longer sentences.’
‘You think they’re linked?’
‘I do. Keep this to yourself for now, until we find something that connects them.’
‘Will do.’
‘Aaron,’ Matilda called out to the DS as she saw him pass the doorway at the top of the steps. ‘Get Kesinka and Ranjeet out here to knock on a few doors. I know it’s dark but it’s still only early evening. I want to know if anyone saw anything suspicious, not just today either. Has anyone been hanging around lately?’
Aaron nodded and walked away, pulling out his mobile phone. He seemed distracted, probably thinking of his heavily pregnant wife. Matilda had no idea how he was feeling, but even she was starting to wish Katrina would hurry up and have this bloody baby.
Matilda stepped back from the scene of activity and watched as Adele Kean, Lucy Dauman, and a scene of crime officer slowly lowered Joe Lacey to the ground. He was sealed inside a padlocked body bag. Matilda unzipped the forensic suit and took her mobile out of her inside jacket pocket.
‘Sian.’ She signalled her sergeant over to her as she searched for a number. She lowered her voice. ‘Do me a favour, go and visit George Appleby and find out where he was from lunchtime onwards.’
‘You don’t think …?’
‘Right now, I don’t know what to think.’ She