A Room Full of Killers - Michael Wood (motivational books to read txt) 📗

the television. There was already a DVD in the player for when she felt like a bit of light relief before going to sleep. She switched it on and made herself comfortable once again. By the time the theme tune had finished on her fourth episode of Friends, she was fast asleep.

TWENTY

‘Bollocks!’

Matilda looked down at the stopwatch on the treadmill: 31:22. She’d hoped to run under thirty minutes this morning. When she woke up she felt refreshed after a good night’s sleep. She’d kicked back the duvet and hopped out of bed, changed into her running gear and headed straight for the conservatory. She was adamant she would break the thirty-minute mark.

An angry shower under blistering hot water and a slice of burnt toast later and she was ready for work. She blew a kiss to James on the mantelpiece, gave the treadmill a dirty look and left the house with a travel mug of coffee in hand.

Instead of turning left out of the drive she turned right and headed towards the outskirts of the Steel City.

‘I wasn’t expecting to see you on my doorstep this morning.’

Pat Campbell was still in her dressing gown. Her bed-hair was an unruly grey mop and in need of a trim. She was tall and slightly chubby since her days on the police force but she looked better for it. She had taken early retirement due to ill health but there didn’t appear to be anything ailing her on first sight. She stood up straight, moved about easily enough and didn’t have problems breathing.

She ushered Matilda into the living room and told her to make herself comfortable while she made coffee. Despite having drained most of her travel mug in the car, Matilda thought it would be rude to refuse, especially as she had a massive favour to ask.

The large living room was tastefully decorated in neutral colours and all the furniture was very modern. It was simple and minimalistic with everything neat and tidy. An unread newspaper was perfectly positioned on the coffee table. It was this morning’s Daily Mail. She flicked through the newspaper and glanced at the headlines but didn’t take in any of the stories. An advert stopped her dead. There was that smiling face of the blond-haired, blue-eyed boy again glaring up at her. Carl by Sally Meagan was out tomorrow in hardback.

Matilda could feel her blood beginning to boil; the prickly sensation of a panic attack crawling up her neck. Her throat dried, she had difficulty breathing and her vision began to blur. She staggered back and slumped into the sofa.

It had been over two months since her last panic attack. She thought she was over them and was finally getting to grips with whatever life threw at her. Her mind began to run away with itself: thousands of people would read this newspaper, buy the book, discuss it with others in the street, in coffee shops and online, and spread the word of Matilda’s apparent incompetence. Would she ever be free of it?

‘Would you like any breakf—?’ Pat walked into the living room carrying two mugs of coffee. She saw Matilda on sprawled on the sofa. ‘Jesus, Mat, what’s happened? What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing. I’m all right.’

‘You’re not. You’re as white as a ghost.’ She moved to put the coffees down on the table and saw the newspaper. ‘Ah, I forgot it was there. I’m sorry. I’d have moved it had I known you were coming.’

‘It’s all right, honestly. It’s me. I’m taking all this too personally. Give me a minute.’

Pat opened a window and let in a stiff cool breeze. She went over to her usual armchair and sat patiently until Matilda was ready to talk.

‘How long have you had panic attacks?’ Pat eventually asked.

‘How did you know?’

‘My husband, Anton, had them when he first retired. He got it into his head that retiring meant he didn’t have long left. It scared the shit out of him. At times he thought he was having a heart attack. I recognize the signs.’

‘Ever since James died my confidence has been shot. This hasn’t helped either,’ she pointed at the newspaper. ‘I’ve tried to move on, but I’m reminded of Carl all over the place.’

‘I honestly don’t know what to say to you, Matilda. Sally Meagan is going to keep doing things like this to keep everyone aware that her son is missing and to keep looking out for him. From her point of view it’s all she’s got.’

‘She sent me the book. She hand delivered it and left it on my doorstep. She personally signed it saying she would never let me forget. It’s things like that I have a problem with.’ Matilda wiped her eyes. She suddenly noticed she had been crying. How long had that been going on?

‘You can’t report her either, can you?’

‘Not really. How bad would that look to the media?’

‘Does Valerie know about your panic attacks?’

‘She did when I first came back. I’ve hidden them though. I think she thinks I’m over it all now.’

‘You can’t carry on like this, Mat. Have you considered seeing someone?’

Matilda smiled. ‘I already do. I’ll be fine, honest. Once it’s out the adverts will stop.’

Pat wasn’t convinced. The terse look on her face said it all. However, she let it slide. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like any breakfast?’

‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’

‘So, what is it you want from me then?’

‘How do you know I’ve not popped round to say hello?’

‘The last time you paid me a visit you had reopened the Harkness case and asked for my opinion. Good work by the way.’

‘Thanks. Not the result I was expecting.’

‘Me neither. However, case closed. That’s the main thing.’

‘Exactly.’

‘So, have you reopened another case I worked on?’

‘No. MIT doesn’t exist anymore. We’re just one big CID with many branches forking off into different teams.’

Pat looked deeply at Matilda. ‘I’m guessing your reaction to that was akin to forking off too.’

Matilda smiled. ‘Something like that. Look, Pat, I want