Deadly Intent

by D. S. Butler

  When Brendan came back to the table with a tray, he smiled again and put a teapot and cup in front of her, then placed a small milk jug next to her cup.

  Tammy thanked him, ignoring the jug of milk. She was dairy free. It was another thing she’d eliminated from the diet in her ongoing futile attempt to feel human again.

  Brendan sat down opposite her. “So, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

  Tammy poured her tea, willing her hands to stop shaking. “I’m twenty-three. I’ve been ill for the past eighteen months, and it’s just getting worse. I’m tired all the time. My muscles ache. My head feels like it’s filled with cotton wool. I just can’t function normally.”

  Brendan nodded sympathetically. “That has to be tough.”

  “It is. I mean, the worst thing is, no one really understands, and you start to think people believe you’re making the whole thing up. The doctors… They run their usual tests, and when they come up with nothing, they just send me home. I feel I’ve been abandoned.”

  To her horror, Tammy felt tears welling in her eyes.

  She blinked them away and raised her tea to her lips. “Sorry,” she murmured before taking a sip.

  “Not at all,” Brendan said. “Look, I understand. Really I do. I felt just the same as you.”

  Tammy looked up. “And the protocol got rid of the parasites?”

  Brendan nodded and gave her a warm smile. “It did. And there’s no reason to think it wouldn’t work for you too.”

  Tammy experienced a warm rush of hope. “Really?”

  Brendan nodded and picked up his espresso. He took a sip and then said, “I thought it would be nice to meet in public, so you’d feel more comfortable.”

  “Haha, yes it gave me a chance to make sure you’re not a crazy axe murderer!” Tammy gave a loud laugh that ended in a definite snort and drew looks from the tables around them.

  A hot blush traveled to her cheeks. Nice one, Tammy. Trust you to say the most inappropriate thing possible.

  “It was just a joke,” Tammy said quickly. “About meeting a strange man on the Internet… Not that I think you’re strange…I just wanted to say I appreciate you offering to meet up like this first.”

  “Of course. You can’t be too careful these days.”

  Tammy looked uncomfortably at the people still staring at her. “Sorry about that. My sister always said I had the most obnoxious laugh.”

  “I don’t think so. I think there’s nothing nicer than a genuine laugh. So many people are fake these days.”

  He grinned at her, and Tammy beamed.

  “I’ll talk you through the process, and you can decide whether or not you trust me.”

  Tammy leaned forward, eager to hear more.

  She felt on top of the world as they got off the bus together.

  “So are we going to your laboratory or your place?” Tammy asked.

  Brendan took long strides and she had to hurry to keep up.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t get funding for the research. I mean, the medical establishment just doesn’t want to know. It’s a nightmare.”

  Tammy nodded as though she understood.

  “But, we can go to my mum’s house. It’s bigger than mine, and you don’t have to worry because I keep the axe at my place.” He winked.

  Tammy’s eyes widened as she laughed. “I suppose I deserved that. Will your mum be at home?”

  “Probably not. Hopefully we won’t get any interruptions.”

  Tammy walked along beside Brendan. The fact he was taking her to his mother’s place made her let her guard down even more. He was hardly going to do anything dodgy at his mum’s place, was he?

  It was a hot day, and despite the fact Tammy’s blouse was sticking uncomfortably to her back, she felt happy. Happier than she had in a long time.

  The birds were singing and darting from tree to tree. She didn’t think she’d ever seen so many birds in central London. She looked up at the bright blue sky and smiled. It was a good day.

  When they reached Brendan’s mum’s terraced house, Tammy stood behind him as he carefully looked through his keyring for the appropriate key.

  When he opened the door, he called out, “Hello, Mum? It’s me Brendan. Are you home?”

  There was no reply.

  He stepped inside the dark hallway and beckoned Tammy to follow.

  It was cooler in the house, and goosebumps prickled over her arms.

  “We’ll get started straight away,” Brendan said brightly, leading the way into the sitting room.

  The house smelled strange, a little stale, like nobody had lived there for a while. She pushed the thought from her mind. That was stupid. Brendan’s mum lived here. Maybe she just kept the windows closed during hot weather to keep the rooms cool.

  She sat down on a floral armchair and waited as Brendan went off to the kitchen.

  “I won’t be a minute, just relax,” he called out. “I need to fix you a special drink.”

  “What’s in it? Vitamins and minerals?” Tammy’s heart gave a little jump at the thought that she might actually get the cure today.

  Brendan poked his head around the door. “Sorry, no, not yet. This is just a drink containing a label.”

  Then he disappeared again, leaving Tammy to wonder what the label was. She tried to relax, but her whole body felt tense and uncomfortable.

  Outside in the sunshine, she’d felt full of anticipation and hope, but inside in this dim room on her own, she started to feel less anticipation and more fear.

  She shook her head. She was being stupid.

  Brendan came back into the living room holding a glass containing a clear liquid. He held it out to Tammy.

  “This is it. It’s got a microscopic label in the liquid, and the label binds to the parasite. That means when I look at your skin scrapes under a microscope, I’ll be able to see if you have the parasite.”

  “I see,” Tammy said taking the glass and eyeing it warily.

  “It might taste a bit weird.” Brendan smiled. “But it will be worth it.”

  Tammy took a tentative sip. The drink had a bitter aftertaste, but it wasn’t too bad. It was nowhere near as bad as celery juice, anyway. She took a long gulp, and with Brendan’s encouragement, finished the glass full of liquid quickly.

  Brendan took the glass. “Great. We’ll wait for twenty minutes or so, and then we can do the skin scrape.”

  Tammy nodded as Brendan carried the glass to the kitchen. She leaned back in the armchair, wondering how the label was able to get through her entire system to her skin in twenty minutes. She didn’t know much about biology, but that was quite quick, wasn’t it?

  But Brendan was a scientist, and she was sure he knew what he was talking about. She was tempted to get out her phone and scroll through Facebook, but she thought that would be rude, so she left the phone in her bag and waited for Brendan to return.

  He was taking a while. She couldn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen. What was he doing? Should she go and see if he needed some help? Maybe he had to set up some equipment for the skin scrapes.

  She decided to stay still. She was feeling dizzy, probably after all the exertion plus the excitement. It had taken a toll on her.

  She rested her head against the soft fabric of the armchair and closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. All she wanted was to curl up in bed and go to sleep. Exhaustion made her limbs feel heavy.

  She wasn’t sure what time it was when Brendan came back into the sitting room. She blinked. Had she fallen asleep? She really hoped she hadn’t started snoring. How embarrassing.

  Her eyes were blurry, and when she tried to smile at Brendan, her mouth wouldn’t work properly.

  Her stomach rolled, and as she sat forward, the room seemed to spin.

  This was more than ordinary tiredness. There was something wrong. Had she been allergic to something in the drink? Perhaps she’d had a reaction to the label.

  “I don’t feel so good,” Tammy s
aid.

  “Oh, what’s wrong?” Brendan said, standing in front of her chair and staring down at her.

  Tammy shook her head as she tried to form a sentence.

  “I don’t feel good,” she tried to say, but her voice came out distorted and slow.

  Brendan kneeled beside her and took her hand in his. “Just relax. This is how it’s meant to happen.”

  This is how it’s meant to happen? He could have warned her. She felt awful. A wave of nausea overtook her. She felt for one horrifying second she might throw up all over Brendan, but the nausea passed, leaving her with disorientating dizziness.

  She tried to focus on Brendan’s face, but it was blurry, distorted.

  He leaned closer, putting his face only an inch or so from hers. It had to be her imagination, but she couldn’t see the warmth in his eyes any more. They looked dark, soulless.

  “I’m sorry, Tammy,” he said quietly.

  Tammy’s last thought before everything went black was: he doesn’t look very sorry.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mackinnon still had an hour and a half to kill before he needed to meet the pest control officer at Burdett Road. He stared at the mountain of paperwork on his desk, knowing he needed to get to it soon. Just because they had a new case didn’t mean they could ignore the practicalities of previous ones.

  He pulled out the briefing notes and wondered whether to offer Collins an hour of his time to help him chase up the CCTV.

  As he got to his feet, DC Charlotte Brown walked into the open-plan office.

  “Jack, Melissa West is back from Dubai this morning. I’ve just spoken to her and arranged to go and ask her some questions. Are you free?”

  Mackinnon nodded. “I’ve got an hour and a half until I have to speak to pest control.”

  “She lives near Tower Hill Underground. It won’t take us long.”

  “Remind me,” Mackinnon said as they walked out of the station, “Melissa West? She was Ashley’s closest friend according to her parents, right?”

  Charlotte pushed open the double doors and they both stepped out into the bright sunlight. “Yes, they’ve been friends since secondary school and are still close. She only learned of Ashley’s disappearance and death today. She’s been in Dubai for three weeks, so she’s probably going to be in shock. I don’t know how much we’ll get out of her.”

  It didn’t take them long to get to Tower Hill Underground Station, although when they were locked in the oven-like carriage, Mackinnon felt the agony would never end. He wished they’d taken the bus.

  They finally got out of the stifling, recycled air of the Underground and made their way to Marlyn Lodge in Tower Hill. It was a nice area, very central on Portsoken Street. A dark brown building, with large tinted windows, Marlyn Lodge was one of the few residential buildings in the area. Most of the buildings were office blocks or commercial structures.

  They walked through the main entrance and under the shiny letters above the door displaying the name of the building.

  They approached the concierge at the desk. “We are here to see Melissa West,” Mackinnon said. Neither of them showed their IDs, as people inevitably believed the person police were interviewing had done something wrong.

  “One moment,” the concierge said. His uniform was rumpled, and he looked as though he was feeling the heat like everyone else, although the building felt like an air-conditioned dream after the heat from outside.

  The concierge muttered a few words into the phone on his desk and then ushered them to the lifts.

  “Third floor,” he said, pressing the button for them and then wishing them a nice day.

  “It’s a relief to get out of the heat,” Charlotte said rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s just typical. We have about five days total of hot weather in the UK per year, and I have to work.”

  They stepped out into the corridor and rang the bell of flat thirty-one.

  Melissa West opened the door. Her eyes were red, and it was obvious she’d been crying recently. She looked young and vulnerable. Her makeup was smudged, and she sniffed and said tearfully, “Come in. I only got back a little while ago and then… I heard the news about Ashley. I can’t believe it.”

  Melissa led them along a short hallway and into an open-plan space. There was a small kitchen at the back of the large room, one sofa in the middle opposite a large television, and a round pine table shoved up against the window. All the furniture was white, and the floors were a pale wood.

  An unopened suitcase sat beside the sofa.

  “We should probably sit over here,” Melissa said. “I keep meaning to buy another armchair or something, but I haven’t got round to it.” She pushed her hair back from her face and took a deep breath as she pulled out one of the chairs and sat down beside the table.

  Despite the fact the windows were tinted, the sun still made sitting right next to the window unbearably hot. There were white slatted wooden blinds around the window, and Mackinnon was surprised she hadn’t shut them on such a hot day.

  Living in a flat was always good in the winter, much warmer and cheaper to heat than a house, but on hot days in the summer, the good insulation made keeping cool a losing battle.

  Melissa caught Mackinnon looking at the blinds. “I can’t shut them. I’ve asked my landlord multiple times, but they’re jammed. I’d hoped he’d do it before I got back. I know I’m on the third floor, but you feel really exposed when you can’t shut the blinds at night.”

  Mackinnon stood up and inspected the blinds. He ran his hands over the wooden slats and found one that seemed to be at a strange angle compared to the others. He gripped the slat and pushed it back and forth until it slid into place, then reached for the cable and pulled the blinds across.

  “Thank you,” Melissa said, looking at the blinds with disbelief. “You made it look easy.”

  “I used to have similar blinds. There’s always one slat that gets stuck at an angle, which means it can’t move along the runner properly. It will probably happen again, unfortunately, but when you know what to look for, it’s an easy fix.”

  “Thanks.” She looked down at the table. “The officer on the phone said she wanted to ask some questions about Ashley.”

  “That was me,” Charlotte said, pulling a small notepad from her bag. “We just need to gather as much information as we can, and Ashley’s parents said you were very close.”

  Melissa’s face crumpled. “We are… I mean, we were. I can’t believe she’s really gone. People are saying they think she was murdered.”

  “Ashley died under suspicious circumstances,” Mackinnon said. “So we are treating her death as possible murder. I wondered if you could tell us if Ashley was having any problems recently.”

  “You mean her boyfriend, Noah?”

  Mackinnon nodded. “What can you tell us about him?”

  “I didn’t like him. He’s not trustworthy. And he was nowhere near good enough for Ashley. He’s a creep.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Melissa shook her head and looked down at her hands, pursing her lips together, and she paused before answering. “Just a feeling, really. You know how some men can make you feel uncomfortable?” She glanced at Charlotte. “Noah made my skin crawl. He was too over the top. Too smarmy.”

  Mackinnon hadn’t warmed to Noah Thorne, but the fact he was smarmy didn’t mean he went to the top of the suspect list. He really needed Melissa to tell them more, something concrete if they were going to look at Noah Thorne more closely. He decided to come back around to the subject of Noah and pushed the interview in a different direction. “Had Ashley been feeling unwell recently?”

  Melissa looked up sharply. “Yes, but you don’t think that had anything to do with her death, do you?”

  Instead of answering the question, Mackinnon pushed on. “Did Ashley tell you how she was feeling?”

  Melissa pushed back in the chair and studied her hands again. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Ashley had been
really down recently because she hadn’t been feeling well, but the doctors hadn’t been taking her seriously.”

  “Did she say what was wrong with her?”

  “She kept getting headaches and really itchy skin, especially at night, which kept her awake.”

  “Was she attending some kind of support group?”

  “Well, she didn’t go to meetings, but she had a kind of support group, a forum, I think.” She looked up at the ceiling as though she was searching her memories. “I can’t remember what the forum is called, but she spent loads of time on it. She said the people on the forum were much better than the doctors and gave her ideas of alternative therapies and things that could help.”

  “That’s very helpful, Melissa. If you remember anything more, especially the name of the forum, could you let us know?” Mackinnon pushed his card across the table.

  Melissa glanced at it and nodded. “Of course.” A tear trickled down her cheek.

  “I’m sorry, I know it’s upsetting to have to answer questions right now when you’ve only just learned of your friend’s death, but we have just one more question about Ashley’s laptop. We haven’t yet located it or her phone. Do you think she could have left them at a friend’s house?”

  Melissa frowned, tucked her long hair behind her ears, and shook her head. “I doubt it. She was glued to her laptop most of the time. I told you, she was obsessed with that forum. She wouldn’t have left it anywhere. She spent almost every evening on the forum for the past few months.”

  Mackinnon thanked her, and they got up to leave. As they walked to the door, Mackinnon tried one last time to get her to open up more about Noah Thorne. “Did Noah ever do anything to Ashley or to you to make you feel uncomfortable?” he asked, pausing by the front door.

  “Nothing physical,” Melissa said after a brief hesitation. “But he would hang around outside Flyaway Travel waiting for Ashley to leave work. Even when they’d broken up and she’d told him she didn’t want to see him again. He was obsessive.”

  “Was he ever violent towards Ashley?”

  Melissa shook her head. “No, not that I know of, but he would say nasty things to put her down. I told her it was psychological abuse and she should leave him, but she just said it was his insecurity and he didn’t really mean it.”