‘Could she have heard some of the kids who hang out down there screaming or something and she went down and checked it out, worried that someone was being attacked?’ questioned Conrad.
‘Maybe, but that’s too easy, Conrad,’ answered Brady. ‘Whoever killed Sophie knew her. This wasn’t a random attack, I’m certain of it.’
Conrad turned and looked at him curiously.
Brady shook his head.
‘Overkill, Conrad. If she had just been sexually assaulted, then murdered, I agree it could be anyone. Whoever killed her, knew her. She met someone that night, Conrad. Our job is to find out who.’
‘How can you be certain she met someone?’
‘I guarantee that she returned home. When she got there, someone contacted her or maybe it was prearranged. Either way, she met this person at the bottom of the lane next to her house. There’s an opening in the fence there which leads straight out onto the farmland.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Ainsworth, Conrad. The man’s a genius. He found male hand and footprints at the fence matching prints found at the murder scene. He also found Sophie Washington’s footprints leading from the lane out onto the farmland. So we know she went that way, our problem is finding out who met her.’
‘Maybe Harvey and Jenkins will have come up with something?’ Conrad suggested.
‘Maybe,’ muttered Brady as he thought over the likelihood of it being an ex-boyfriend or even a current one. The evidence Brady had found in her bedroom clearly showed that Sophie Washington, contrary to her parents’ opinion, had a keen interest in underage drinking and boys.
‘Maybe the kids who hang about on the farm are the ones we need to be talking to. Question is, how the hell do you get them to come forward? And even if they did, who’s to say they witnessed anything? It’s so dark there, that even stood by what was left of that bonfire, a body thirty feet away would have been impossible to see.’
Brady pulled out his mobile and checked to see if he had any messages. Nothing. He had secretly been hoping that Claudia might have tried to contact him. But she hadn’t. What did he expect? he resignedly mused.
He reluctantly acknowledged that he now needed a statement from Jimmy Matthews’ daughter. Only then could they start to build up a picture of the events that had led to the victim’s attack.
‘Thought you were giving up?’ Conrad asked as he narrowed his eyes at the ash that had blown over what had started out at the beginning of the day as a spotless dashboard.
‘Sorry,’ Brady muttered as he attempted to appease Conrad’s tense face by brushing the ash off the dashboard.
He turned and looked out of the passenger window while Conrad silently concentrated on the traffic ahead.
‘So what do we do now?’ Conrad asked.
‘Talk to whoever knew the victim best and hope that they don’t bullshit us.’
‘I take it we’re starting with Matthews’ daughter then since the Simmons claimed she was Sophie’s best friend?’ Conrad asked as he turned to Brady.
‘Seems we have no choice,’ Brady answered quietly.
‘Wait for me here,’ Brady ordered as they pulled into the large, sprawling driveway.
But Conrad was too busy staring at the imposing eighteenth-century vicarage that was Matthews’ home. Brady suddenly realised what Conrad must be thinking, more so since it was situated in Earsdon village. Ordinary people like them couldn’t afford one of the huge sandstone houses that dominated the quiet, picturesque village, ironically only a few miles out from Whitley Bay. But Conrad wasn’t the only one thinking it. Brady couldn’t get the question out of his head. How the hell could a copper like Matthews afford this? Madley’s name uncomfortably came to mind. But Brady knew Matthews well enough to know that he was straight when it really mattered. He certainly took liberties; didn’t they all? However, Brady was certain that Matthews couldn’t be bought; or he used to be.
His phone call earlier had left him with too many questions. So much so, he didn’t want Conrad around when he talked to Matthews. He needed to get out of Matthews exactly what it was he had stolen from Madley. And to see if there was any way he could minimise what had happened by returning whatever it was he had taken. Brady’s mind was literally spinning as to what it could be. Money, drugs or proof of overseas accounts. That was the real reason Brady was there. He very much doubted that Evie Matthews would be home; after all it was a school day. But someone was home, he was certain of that. The first thing he noted as they pulled into the driveway was that Matthews’ car was missing. Instead a gleaming, new 4 x 4 Land Rover was parked outside the double garage.
‘I reckon this is going to be difficult enough for Matthews’ kid, without the two of us interviewing her,’ Brady stated.
‘That’s fine, sir, I’ve got a few calls I need to follow up anyway,’ answered Conrad. This was DI Matthews’ home and the last thing Conrad wanted to do was poke around in his private life.
‘Can you give Jenkins a call and see what they’ve got so far?’
‘Yes sir,’ answered Conrad as he took out his phone.
Brady reluctantly got out of the car. He’d not seen Matthews outside of work in over a year. Admittedly, they still drank together at the end of a shift but the conversation always revolved around the job. It wasn’t personal. Whereas Brady’s private life was a shambles, Matthews appeared to be doing very well for himself; new cars, designer Italian suits and now this big, fancy property in the exclusive village of Earsdon.
Brady hated to admit it, but he had a bad feeling about Matthews’ sudden acquired wealth.
He wished he could have sent Conrad in, but knew it wasn’t an option. This was his problem. Whatever trouble Matthews had got himself into, it was Brady’s job to get him out of it. It was simple; he still owed him.
‘What the fuck have you been getting up to, Jimmy?’ wondered Brady, as he limped up the white gravel driveway towards the double wooden front doors.
He steeled himself, before ringing the bell. He didn’t know what to expect.
The door opened.
‘Jack? What’s going on? Where’s Jimmy?’
‘I was hoping you could tell me?’
He wasn’t sure whether she would slam the door in his face or invite him in. She did neither. Brady followed her through the ornately tiled hallway to the large modern country kitchen at the back of the house. He couldn’t help but notice the fashionable red Aga and the very sleek and very expensive kitchen units and appliances. Even the stone slabs on the floor looked as if they cost more than a couple of months’ salary.
‘That’s right, you haven’t seen this place?’ she replied as casually as she could. But the strain in her voice was evident.
‘Do you want some?’ she asked, holding up a stainless steel coffee pot.
‘Please,’ Brady answered.
‘Black, no sugar?’
‘Yeah,’ replied Brady as he pulled out a chair and sat down at the large farmhouse kitchen table.
‘Nice car in the driveway. Yours?’ Brady asked.
She nodded.
‘Do you mind?’ Brady asked as he took out his cigarettes and lighter and laid them on the table.
She shook her head as she placed Brady’s coffee in front of him and then walked over and opened the French doors.
‘Nice,’ Brady commented as he nodded at the sizeable secluded walled garden.
‘You get used to it after a while.’
‘Yeah?’ Brady questioned. That was something he was certainly never going to be able to put to the test. He could barely afford the mortgage on his own place, especially now that Claudia had left.
‘Directly behind the garden there’s a field that we’re renting for the horses,’ Kate added.
‘Yeah?’ he answered, ignoring the creeping worry about where the money was coming from for the upkeep of horses.
He’d forgotten Kate’s passion was horses. Always had been since he’d known her from the age of seventeen. Her mother lived in a sprawling country house outside of Morpeth and in the early seventies was a celebrated Olympic Show Jumper. She then married and had Kate, who had literally learned to ride before she could walk. Kate
