Victim of Innocence: A DCI Matilda Darke short story. Michael Wood

I’d say she died from a massive head trauma.’

      ‘What was she hit with?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Adele frowned. ‘Something blunt but big and heavy. There’s nothing in the wound to identify a weapon, but the skull has caved in. I’d say you’re looking for something round.’

      ‘Like a bowling ball?’ Matilda guessed.

      ‘Nothing that big, but, possibly.’

      ‘Is this how she was found?’ Matilda turned to Sian.

      ‘Yes. The duvet was over her though. It’s like she just went to bed and died.’

      ‘Any sign of disturbance?’

      ‘Not in here. Come into the living room,’ Sian said, leading the way.

      ‘I’ll see you later, Adele.’

      ‘OK. I’ll try and do the PM tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know. Love your earrings, by the way,’ said Adele.

      ‘Thank you,’ she smiled and left the room.

      ‘As you can see from the carpet there are marks where the sofa should be, but it’s been pushed back,’ Sian said, pointing. ‘There’s blood smears on the back of the armchair and the wall too.’

      ‘So, what? She was hit in here and then the killer put her to bed?’

      ‘Could be.’

      ‘I’ve got a clear fingerprint in a blood smear,’ a SOCO said, turning to Matilda.

      ‘Great. Check it against the victim.’

      ‘Will do.’

      ‘Any sign of a break in?’ Matilda asked Sian.

      ‘No. The flat was locked,’ she said.

      ‘How did the mother gain entry?’

      ‘She had a key, I’m guessing. We’ve not been able to interview her yet. Anna’s at the hospital with her. She’s going to give me a call when she finds anything out.’

      Matilda looked around the room. On the floor by the door was a plastic box which contained all the exhibits. She bent down and picked up a heavy glass object in an evidence bag.

      ‘What’s this?’

      ‘It’s a paper weight,’ Sian said.

      ‘Where was it found?’ She asked, looking at the blood smear on the glass ball.

      ‘Here,’ the SOCO pointed to a gap on a shelf above a radiator.

      Matilda took the paper weight through to the bedroom. ‘Adele, would this have done the job?’

      Adele asked her Anatomical Pathology Technician to turn Caitlyn on her side to reveal the wound once again. The glass ball fitted perfectly into the indentation in the wound.

      ‘Nice of the killer to leave the murder weapon behind,’ Adele said.

      DC Rita Morgan entered the bedroom. ‘Ma’am, I asked Aaron to run Caitlyn Brown through the PNC to see if she’s known to us, and she is.’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘Yes. She reported a crime a few days ago. She said she was raped last year.’

       Chapter Three

       Tuesday March 8, 2011

      By the time door-to-door enquiries had been conducted, Caitlyn had been taken to the mortuary and forensics had finished, it was almost one o’clock in the morning. Far too late to start the investigation. Matilda sent everyone home and told them to be in the briefing room by eight o’clock.

      The Murder Investigation Team had been in operation within South Yorkshire Police for three months now, and, so far, they had a one-hundred-per-cent success rate and three ongoing cases.

      DCI Matilda Darke was the first to arrive at just after seven o’clock the next morning. Despite only having three hours sleep thanks to James’s pneumatic-drill snoring, she looked bright and fresh and ready to face the challenges of a new murder case. She helped herself to a strong black coffee and a bar of chocolate from Sian’s snack drawer.

      ‘Caitlyn Brown, twenty-three, was found bludgeoned to death in her flat last night. What do we know so far?’ Matilda asked her team as they gathered around for the first briefing.

      ‘Caitlyn’s mother, Diane, went round about eight o’clock. She found her daughter dead in bed and practically screamed the block down,’ Sian began. ‘Several neighbours came out to see what was going on.’

      ‘Did anyone go into Caitlyn’s flat?’

      ‘Yes. The flat directly next door belongs to Polly Nicoletti. When she couldn’t get any sense out of Diane, she went in to see what had happened.’

      ‘Anyone else?’

      ‘Not that we know of.’

      ‘Did she touch anything?’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Who called 999?’

      ‘Polly Nicoletti.’

      ‘OK. Bring her in for a witness statement and take her prints too. What do we know about Caitlyn Brown?’

      Rita Morgan took a sip of her coffee then put her hand up. ‘Caitlyn worked as a veterinary nurse at a surgery on Woodseats. Now, last week, she came into the station and gave a statement saying she had been raped in October.’

      ‘Why did she wait so long?’

      ‘Apparently, she saw the story in the paper about Julia Adams being raped and she thinks she was attacked by the same man.’

      ‘Right. Who’s SIO?’

      ‘DI Ben Hales.’

      Matilda’s heart sank. She had a very fractious relationship with DI Hales. He believed he should have been promoted to DCI and put in charge of the Murder Investigation Team. He resented her success and delighted in obstructing her at every turn. She knew they would have to work together at some point, and she wasn’t looking forward to that happening. It would appear that day had arrived.

      Matilda set her team to work before leaving the freshly decorated MIT room and heading for the cold, damp, poorly-lit, and cramped CID suite.

      The open-plan room was cluttered with desks and filing cabinets. When Matilda entered she was hit by a wall of noise: telephones ringing, fingers drumming hard on computer keyboards and different topics of conversation being conducted all at once. She walked slowly through the mine field towards Ben’s corner office. His role was to oversee all CID’s cases. He spent more time behind his desk than solving crimes.

      Matilda rapped on his glass door. She looked through at the dark-haired DI. Head down, he was writing on a note pad. He looked up. His brow creased when he saw her.

       Did he just roll his eyes?

      He nodded and Matilda took a deep breath, then walked into the room, closing the door behind her.

      ‘Morning, how are things?’

      ‘Checking up on me?’ He asked in his icy, difficult tone.

      ‘No. I was being polite,’ she said, wondering why she even bothered trying to make small talk. ‘A young woman has been murdered. I believe she’s connected to a series of rapes you’re working on.’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘Yes. Caitlyn Brown. You know her?’

      Ben’s desk was a mountain of files and paperwork. He briefly looked through it before selecting the relevant file. ‘Caitlyn Brown, twenty-three, said