by D. S. Butler
He had called DI Tyler before he left Yateley Lodge, updating him on what he discovered from Jacob Jansen. He’d emailed Tyler a photograph of the obituary, and Tyler assured Mackinnon he would get DC Webb to look into it straight away. They needed to track down where it had been published and who paid for the obituary notice. If they found out who had paid for the notice, that could be the breakthrough they needed in identifying Beverley Madison’s killer.
Tyler had told Mackinnon that the snake venom had been identified as being from a Russell’s viper.
Mackinnon didn’t know much about snakes. In fact, he’d always had a bit of a phobia of snakes. Reptiles in general really. But identifying the type of snake used to kill Beverley Madison was good progress. It meant they could track down whoever owned Russell’s vipers in the UK, or whether it was possible to purchase the venom. Mackinnon wouldn’t be surprised. It seemed like you could buy anything on the Internet these days.
Mackinnon flicked the indicator and changed lanes, anticipating the junction ahead.
He turned up the heating. It was a cold and wet December evening. Chloe would probably be getting home by now, and she was expecting Mackinnon to be there for dinner. He would have to ring her as soon as he got back to the station. There was no way he’d be able to get back to Oxford tonight. He would have to stay at Derek’s. Unfortunately, it looked like he had a long night ahead of him.
15
I RUSHED HOME AFTER work, eager to have enough time to finalise my plans. I opened the gate in front of my semi-detached house and walked along the garden path. I glanced at the house next door and saw Gillian Rice peering at me from behind her net curtains.
Great. That was all I needed. I hurried along, hoping to get inside before she accosted me.
I put my key in the lock… so close.
“Yoo-hoo,” a shrill voice said.
I turned to my left and saw Gillian Rice standing there, holding a transparent umbrella and leaning on the fence that separated our two properties.
“How are you, dear?” she asked. “I haven’t seen your mother in a while?”
I let out a shaky breath. I was running on pure adrenaline. I didn’t know whether it was nerves or excitement, but either way, I needed to get rid of Gillian Rice and get on with my plans.
I knew Gillian had heard the gossip. I’d seen her looking out of her bedroom window when the care home’s van came to pick up my mother.
I could never forget Gillian’s disapproving eyes fixed on me the night the ambulance had arrived. I shivered, remembering how I’d arrived home from work to find my mother cradling her scalded hands.
Gillian blamed me.
“She is still in hospital,” I said, not wanting to get into the whys and wherefores with Gillian now.
“Oh dear,” Gillian said. “How awful. She must have been far more seriously injured than I thought.”
I hated Gillian Rice.
I was standing there, getting soaking wet. The rain was trickling down my neck. She stood there, nice and dry with her cheap transparent umbrella, trying to pry and find out what had happened to my mother.
Nosey cow!
I raised my hand again to turn the key, but my hands were shaking. I was so furious with her, but I couldn’t afford to lose control tonight. I had too much work to do.
I forced myself to smile politely at Gillian.
“She’s getting better,” I said. “Hopefully, she’ll be coming home soon.”
Gillian nodded sagely. “I hope so. I was saying to Alfred only yesterday that we hadn’t seen your mother in such a long time.”
Her eyes flickered to the upstairs of my house as though she thought I had my mother stashed up there. Perhaps she thought I had her locked in a bedroom.
Did she think I was some kind of monster?
Maybe I was.
“Good night, Gillian,” I said firmly. I opened the front door, stepped inside and slammed it behind me.
I took a few seconds to try and calm down. People made mistakes when they were anxious, and I couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, not yet.
Bloody Gillian. I could just picture her when this was all over, preening for the TV crews and telling them she’d always suspected I was evil.
I switched on the hallway light, shrugged off my coat and stepped inside the living room.
My hands were still shaking as I reached for the pack of matches on the mahogany cabinet, but somehow I managed to light one and hold it to the wick of the candle.
The candlelight flickered and illuminated the framed photographs I’d arranged carefully on the sideboard. I took a moment to look down at the photos and focus.
It didn’t take long before a feeling of calm flooded through me. I felt strong again, the photos strengthening my resolve.
I took a quick glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. It had been given to my father at his retirement party. After forty years’ service at the same company, he retired and all he got was that clock. Two weeks later, he was dead. They said it was a heart attack that was probably brought on by his high blood pressure, but I knew the truth.
It was the stress that had killed him.
***
Ninety minutes later, I had changed into black Lycra leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. I also wore my hooded coat and as I strode across the car park, I pulled the hood low over my face. It was still raining so the hood wouldn’t raise anyone’s suspicions.
It paid to do your homework. And I was good at it. Methodical and precise. I’d had this target in my sights for weeks, and I knew his routine like the back of my hand.
I pushed open the doors to the gym and strode by the reception desk confidently, as if I knew exactly where I was going.
I made as if I was going to enter the ladies changing rooms, but at the last minute, after a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one was looking, I turned right into the empty office area.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. I didn’t have long. In a few minutes, he would be finishing the last fitness class of the evening. I made a grab for the car keys on the desk. Silly place to keep them, but it made my task easier.
I shoved them into the pocket of my coat. Keeping my hood pulled up, I stepped out into the corridor again and walked past a group of women enquiring about a new spinning class.
My heart was thudding in my chest, and I wanted to run. I forced myself to walk slowly. I didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention.
Outside the gym, I walked across the car park, heading for a small silver Peugeot. I pressed the button on the key fob, and the car beeped and unlocked. I smiled, shoved the keys into my pocket again and headed back towards the gym.
There was a CCTV camera in the car park not far from the Peugeot. I wasn’t sure if it worked or whether it was one of those dummy ones places like this used to give people a false sense of security and deter break-ins. Real or not, I didn’t want to take any chances, and I kept my gaze focused on the floor and my hood pulled down low.
Getting the keys back to the office was almost as easy. The same group of women were still hovering by the reception desk, so I was easily able to slip my way past them unnoticed, but this time there were two men standing right beside the door to the office. They were identically dressed in very short blue shorts and white socks pulled halfway up their calves. I hesitated for a moment, hoping they would make their way either into the gym or into the changing rooms. But they didn’t. They seemed quite content to stay exactly where they were for a chat.
I bit down so hard on the inside of my mouth that I tasted blood. This wasn’t part of the plan. I didn’t have time for this. I didn’t want anyone to see me going in the office, but I had to take a chance. He would be back soon.
Deciding it was my only option, I kept my head down as I stepped past the two idiots. I slipped inside the office, dropped the keys back on the desk. Then I spun around and walked back past the reception as fast as my legs could carry me.
I turne
d back just as I got outside, but none of them were watching me. I stared at them through the huge rain-splattered glass panes. They really had no idea.
I tried to slow my breathing. It was fine, I reassured myself. Everything was going to plan. It was time to move on to stage two.
I went back to the Peugeot and opened the back door. I slipped into the rear passenger seat and closed the door behind me. Out of my pocket, I pulled a small plastic container, which contained my syringe.
It wouldn’t be long now.
I hunkered down behind the driver’s seat. It wasn’t easy. He was a tall man, and he had pushed his chair right back, but I had to put up with it.
It wouldn’t be for long. He would notice if I moved the position of his seat and that wouldn’t do at all. He wouldn’t be quite as easy as Beverley Madison. I needed the element of surprise to make this work.
16
JOE GRIFFIN FORCED A smile when he saw Angela lurking beside the changing rooms after the class. He’d just taken an hour of circuits, and he was tired. All he wanted to do was get home, have a glass of wine and relax with his wife in front of the TV.
He walked briskly towards Angela, hoping to pass her and get out of there before she could strike up a conversation.
“That was a great class, Joe,” she said, twirling a lock of her hair around her index finger.
“Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it,” Joe said.
“I always love your classes,” Angela said, sidling up to him. “And this class is so good for me. Here, feel this…” She held out her arm and braced it, grabbed Joe’s hand and placed it on her bicep. “See what you’ve done to my body.”
Joe pulled his hand away. “Fantastic result,” he said. “And just think, all that muscle will be burning more calories.”
“Speaking of calories,” Angela said, “do you fancy going for a drink or maybe getting some dinner tonight?”
Joe shook his head. “No can do, I’m afraid. Carla is waiting for me at home,” he said, but mentioning his wife didn’t seem to have any effect on Angela.
“Maybe some other time,” she said moving even closer to him.
“Maybe,” he said, extracting himself from Angela’s grip and opening the door to the men’s changing rooms. At least she couldn’t follow him in there.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, Joe cautiously left the men’s changing rooms. When Alison, the girl at reception, saw him scanning the corridor, she laughed. “It’s all right. You’re safe. She has gone home.”
Joe sighed in relief. “Thank God,” he said.
Joe lifted his gym kit onto his shoulder and said goodbye to Alison. He needed to be back in the gym tomorrow. Another seven am start. That was the problem with his type of job. As a personal trainer and fitness instructor, it meant he had to be available when clients wanted him. The highest demand was usually early morning or late evening. Before work and after work. Still, it was a satisfying job. He enjoyed helping people achieve their fitness goals — even if he did have to deal with annoying, touchy-feely women like Angela.
Joe headed towards his silver Peugeot. He opened the boot and threw his gym kit inside.
He slammed the door and walked around to the driver’s side of the car, yawning. It had been a hell of a long day.
Joe slid into the driving seat. As soon as he shut the door, he felt a sharp sting on his neck. He jerked forward and turned around, clutching his neck.
Damn, that hurt.
He examined the headrest expecting to see an insect, but there was nothing there. He rubbed his neck with one hand as he reached up with the other to switch the interior light on.
He saw something on the floor. At first glance, he thought it was a pile of old clothes, but then he saw a pair of eyes gleaming at him.
Joe gave a strangled yelp and reached for the door handle.
Someone was in his car! What the hell?
“Get out of my car,” Joe ordered, staggering out of the driver’s seat and flinging the back passenger door open. “What did you just do? You scratched my neck.”
There was no movement from the back seat.
“I’m warning you. Get out now, or I’ll drag you out.”
A figure emerged, bundled up in a winter coat.
Joe didn’t notice the figure’s face, and even if he’d lived long enough, he wouldn’t have been able to give a description to the police. His eyes were fixed on the syringe, which shone in the gleam of the streetlight. Joe felt an unpleasant stinging pain in his neck and moaned in terror.
“What is that?” he pleaded. “What did you inject me with?”
A million thoughts flashed through his mind. Was this some weirdo with an infected needle…HIV or hepatitis?
A searing pain stabbed behind his eyes. Joe stepped forward, making a grab for his tormentor, but the dark figure stepped out of his reach easily.
Joe stumbled and realised he needed to get help and fast. He patted down his pockets, looking for his mobile phone, but belatedly he realised it was in his gym bag in the boot of the car.
His best chance of getting help was heading back to the gym.
Still clutching his neck, Joe staggered back towards the lights of the gym, leaning on cars as he went. The figure made no attempt to stop him.
“I’m going to call the police, you crazy bastard,” Joe shouted.
He was too far away to be sure, but Joe thought he heard the figure say, “No you won’t, Joe. You’ll never make it inside.”
17
AFTER MACKINNON GOT BACK to Wood Street station, he filled Tyler in on the developments with Jacob Jansen. Tyler told him Hassan was exhibits officer on the case, so he left the obituary in DC Hassan’s capable hands.
When he’d finished debriefing Tyler, Mackinnon headed outside to give Chloe a call. He had to tell her he wouldn’t be home tonight. He was pretty sure Chloe wouldn’t be pleased, and Mackinnon didn’t want everyone else in the briefing room to overhear the conversation.
As he stepped outside, the wet chill of the December evening hit him, and he buttoned up his coat and turned his collar up. Hunching up his shoulders, he called the home phone.
Katy answered.
“Hi, sweetheart. Did you have a good day?”
Katy answered with a sigh, “Not really.”
“What happened?”
Another sigh. “Just the usual,” she said, her voice monotone and very unlike her normal cheerful self.
Mackinnon felt sorry for the kid. She’d been having trouble at school. A group of girls seemed to delight in teasing Katy, excluding her and generally making her feel awful.
“Have those girls been giving you trouble again? Your mum said if you give her their names, she’ll speak to your headmistress.”
Katy was silent. They’d had this conversation last week. She didn’t want to tell Chloe the names of the girls who had been targeting her. Katy insisted it would only make matters worse, and to be honest, Mackinnon tended to agree with her.
“I suppose you’re ringing to say you’re going to be late,” Katy said, in an almost perfect imitation of Chloe.
Mackinnon almost laughed.
“Worse than that, kiddo. This case I’m working on means that I won’t be home tonight. I’m going to stay at Derek’s. Is your mum around?”
“I’ll get her.”
Mackinnon looked up at the night sky. The misty rain fell softly on his face. He stepped closer to the building so he was under cover.
“Jack? Katy just told me you’re not coming back tonight.”
“I’m sorry. I’m going to stay at Derek’s. It’s this case. It’s going to be a late one.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” Chloe said. “I’ve got a bottle of your favourite red wine.”
Mackinnon grinned. “Save it for me. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure,” Mackinnon said, not wanting to give any promises he couldn’t keep.
“All right, fair eno
ugh,” Chloe said. “It’ll keep. But do try and get home tomorrow, Jack. I could really do with a chat.”
“What about?”
“Have you got time to talk now?”
“I’ve got a few minutes before the next briefing,” Mackinnon said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing new,” Chloe said. “It’s Katy. I’m getting really worried about her. She won’t tell me exactly what’s wrong, but she keeps saying that she wants to leave her school and go to another one.”
“Perhaps that’s not a bad idea,” Mackinnon said
“It’s an excellent school, Jack. And she’s going to be doing her GCSEs next year. I just don’t want her to screw up her future because she’s fallen out with a couple of girls in her year.”
“Katy doesn’t really seem the type to over dramatise things.” Mackinnon thought that if it had been Sarah they were discussing, he might have agreed with Chloe.
But Katy usually got on with things, and he didn’t think she would be kicking up such a fuss if she wasn’t really unhappy.
But Chloe knew Katy better than he did. “Why don’t we try and speak to her again tomorrow night when I come home? We can all have dinner together. If she can explain exactly why she wants to leave…” Mackinnon heard the sound of liquid glugging into a glass. “I hope that’s not my wine you’re drinking,” Mackinnon teased.
“Might be,” Chloe said, and he could tell from her voice she was smiling. “I’ll get you another one.”
“I’d better get back upstairs. The briefing starts soon, and Tyler will be looking for me.”
“Okay, speak to you later.”
“Jack?” Chloe said just as he was about to hang up.
“Yes?”
“Be careful, won’t you?”
***
After Mackinnon hung up, he sent a text to Derek to ask if he could crash at his place that night. Mackinnon had his own set of keys, and Derek had told him he could come and go as he pleased, but Mackinnon still liked to give him fair warning.
Mackinnon had just pressed the send button when Collins walked outside. “Charlotte said you came out here,” Collins said. He was only in his suit jacket. He crossed his arms over his chest and shivered. “It’s bloody freezing out here. What are you doing?”
