Shallow Ground (Detective Ford) by Andy Maslen (to read list txt) 📕

‘I thought it was a pressure cooker.’

‘It’s an autoclave. They use them in hospitals for sterilising surgical instruments.’

‘Oh, yes! Now you come to mention it, I’ve seen them at work.’

‘Why is it there, Matty?’

Matty’s eyes flicked left, then right. ‘I don’t know. Jen does all the cooking. Maybe she got it off eBay for pot roasts, or from the care home. She buys cheap cuts because we’re saving—’

‘—for a deposit. Yes, you told me,’ Ford interrupted, losing patience.

‘Exactly!’ Matty agreed with a grin.

‘You seem to have established merely that my client’s wife buys her groceries from different supermarkets and uses an autoclave as a pressure cooker,’ Kenney said. ‘It’s unusual, but hardly incriminating. Do you have any more substantive questions for my client?’

Ford nodded, acknowledging that his interest in the contents of the Kytes’ kitchen might be considered less than relevant. ‘You’ve already admitted you lied about your alibi, Matty. We can place you at the scene of Angie and Kai Halpern’s murders. Did you kill them?’

‘No! I already told you, Mr Ford. It wasn’t me!’

‘How about Marcus Anderson? How about Aimee Cragg? How about Paul Eadon? Did you murder them and drain their blood out?’

‘No! Why won’t you believe me? All I do is try to help people.’

‘And you didn’t attack Lisa Moore?’

‘Who?’

‘Lisa Moore. She’s an ex-soldier who gave her attacker a good hiding. That wasn’t you?’

‘No.’

Ford took a breath. Stared at Matty, who offered a nervous smile in return.

‘How did you get the scratch on the inside of your forearm, Matty?’

Matty turned his wrist over and pulled up his cuff. He blushed. ‘Jen did them. We were’ – he looked down and lowered his voice – ‘you know, role playing. In the bedroom. A bit of fun, that’s all. Nothing dodgy, like.’

‘Sorry, Matty, you’ll have to speak up for the recorder. Are you saying your wife dug her fingernails into your arms during sex so hard she broke the skin?’

‘Yeah.’

‘No. You attacked Lisa Moore, and when she fought you off she got your blood and skin under her fingernails, Matty. She saved it. Clever woman bagged her hands. We sent the samples off to a DNA lab. We took a sample of your DNA in the custody suite. What will you tell me when it comes back a match?’

Kenney leaned over and spoke behind her hand to Matty.

‘No comment.’

‘If you confess now, Matty, make a clean breast, it will look better in court.’

‘No comment.’

Ford smiled. ‘Interview suspended at’ – he checked his watch – ‘9.14 p.m.’

He stabbed a finger at the tape controls and the recorder switched off with a clack. He got to his feet and left the room, Jools following.

‘Let’s get a coffee,’ he said.

While they waited for the kettle to boil, Ford hissed out a breath. ‘Until we get the DNA match, all we’ve got is a lot of high-quality circumstantial evidence, Jools. But that’s it,’ he said. ‘No forensics, no witnesses—’

‘What about Lisa Moore? She said it could have been Matty.’

‘A defence lawyer would shred that in seconds. We need to put him inside one of the victims’ homes. When we go back in, I want you to take over. Get him to talk about the blood drive. I’m sure that’s how he selected his victims. He needed to match their blood groups to his so he could use their blood as a transfusion. If I want to jump in, I’ll lean forward.’

Jools nodded, stirring the two coffees and adding milk.

The recorder restarted and the formalities dealt with, Jools smiled at Matty as Ford leaned back in his chair.

‘Not many people are as public-spirited as you, Matty, are they?’ she asked. ‘I mean, you volunteer at the food bank, and from what I hear, you go above and beyond your duties at the hospital.’

‘I do my best.’

Jools nodded. ‘I’m amazed. With your job and your volunteering and Jen, you still found time to organise the blood drive.’

‘Mr Abbott organised it. I just helped him out.’

Ford made a note.

‘Did you give blood yourself?’ Jools asked.

He shook his head. ‘I wanted to, but I was on antibiotics.’

Ford made another note.

‘You know we could check that with your GP, Matty,’ Jools said. ‘There’s no point lying about it.’

‘I thought the medical records were confidential?’

‘They were. Right up to the point when you and your wife attacked me and Dr Fellowes,’ Ford said.

‘What’s your blood group, Matty?’ Jools asked, speaking fast.

‘My blood group?’

‘Yes. You know, A, B, O, all that. Which one are you?’

‘B-positive,’ he said, smiling. ‘It’s my motto!’

‘Not A-positive?’

‘My client has answered your question, Detective Constable. You need to move on.’

‘Of course. It’ll show up on your DNA profile, Matty,’ said Jools. ‘You know that, right?’

He nodded.

Ford leaned forward. ‘We believe the killer is conducting blood transfusions. Taking a litre from each of his victims and putting it into his own veins. How much do you know about blood transfusions, Matty?’

‘Nothing. At work, I sometimes have to fetch units from the blood bank, but that’s all.’

‘I didn’t know anything, either. Not until recently, anyway,’ Ford said. ‘But I had a chat with Mr Abbott.’

‘The haematology consultant.’

‘Exactly. And he told me all about blood-group compatibility. You see, all the adult victims had the same blood group: A-positive. That means their blood would be compatible with yours. So you could be our killer and you could be transfusing their blood into yours.’

The lie about compatibility was a trap. According to Abbott’s blood comp chart, someone with B-positive blood couldn’t accept A-positive blood. Ford wanted to hear what Matty would say.

Matty’s brow furrowed for a split second and his lips parted with a wet click. Then he clamped them into a thin line and his forehead smoothed out again.

‘Something wrong, Matty?’ Ford asked.

‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ he said, smiling.

‘Sorry, Matty, you’ve lost me. How?’

Kenney laid a hand on Matty’s forearm, but he shook it off.

‘My blood isn’t compatible with theirs. I can only have donations of O or B blood.’

‘How do you know?’

‘What?’

‘How do