Dip Pens, Descendants and Dirty Deals

by Emily Selby

  'Don't touch, please.'

  'I'm sorry,' Katie said, keeping her voice steady. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She felt anxious and threatened at the same time. Her legs ached, keen to get her out of the room as soon as possible. 'I just wanted to help.'

  'No problem. I'll do it. You go,' Sofia said, her voice now calmer. 'Sorry, I don't like people going through my stuff.'

  Katie climbed to her feet, her thighs trembling like jelly. She leant on the table.

  'The phone,' Sophia said.

  'What?'

  'You're holding my phone. Can you give it back to me?' Sofia repeated calmly but firmly.

  Katie looked at her hand. Indeed, she was still holding what she'd picked off the floor. She put the phone on the table. Now, she had to get out of here. She glanced at the table. A doubt that grew at the back of her mind nagged her. The key! She shouldn't leave the key.

  Katie grabbed it from the table. She curled her fingers into fists and pulled her elbows tightly to her chest. Feeling steadier now, she said as calmly as she could:

  'I actually prefer to lock the room myself. I don't want anyone uninvited rummaging through our stuff. I'll swing by after you finish to make sure the door is secured. How long will you be?'

  Sofia's face flinched. 'Keep an eye on your property - that's my best policy,' she said and bared her teeth in a smile that gave Katie creeps. 'I should be finished by 8 pm. I can text you before I put everything away. That'll give you a few minutes warning.'

  Katie gulped. 'Good idea,' she said and pulled one of her little ads from her handbag. 'Here's my number.' She put the flyer on the table. 'Thanks,' she croaked without looking at Sofia and strode to the door. She grabbed the handle with the same desire as a person dying off dehydration would grab a glass of water. She hurried back to her car breathing heavily. On one hand, Katie was fuming, feeling Sofia pushed too far and broke some rules. On the other hand, Sofia's explanation made sense and, apart from the strange fear about anyone touching her stuff, she was okay. She’d even been apologetic about her behaviour. Katie felt guilty about attacking her. She had to talk to Miriam about changing the locks. And maybe also Chris or Celia?

  Yes. First thing tomorrow morning.

  14

  The first person Katie noticed on arriving at work the following morning was Jack.

  She considered telling him about the events of the previous night. Even though the crafts room looked intact when Katie swung by to lock it, she still felt uncomfortable about what happened with Sofia. The machine and all the parts were cleaned and neatly covered with the cloth, and there was no sign of anything missing. Maybe Sofia did just want to work on her project? She had been tired and stressed from work. She had a stressful job after all. Katie understood the effects of pressure.

  On the other hand, she felt uncomfortable about the situation. And Jack didn't look super-busy. Katie grabbed the opportunity and tried her favourite opening line.

  'A coffee?' she asked. Jack lifted his head from above the paperwork.

  He smiled at her. 'How about I make some for both of us?'

  'That'll be nice.'

  He crossed to the coffee machine.

  'You're in early,' she said, trying to sound casual.

  She wondered how he had been doing since they last spoke, and if he had a chance to consider her suspect list.

  'My dad is staying with his brother for a few days. I have nothing to do at home. The house seems empty without him. To be honest, I find it difficult. I'm happy to be kept busy,' he replied while preparing the brew.

  'Sure, we're keeping you busy with lots of dead bodies,' Katie said in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood.

  Jack glanced at her over his shoulder. A smile danced on his face. 'You most certainly are.'

  Katie welcomed the warmer hint in his voice. 'Sunnyvale is not normally like this.'

  'I would have never guessed.' He gave a sharp laugh. 'Coffee will be ready soon,' he said and looked at her in a way that made her heart flutter. Her cheeks flushed, and in a surge of panic she turned her face away from him. No way was she letting her feelings get in the way of this conversation!

  Katie cleared her throat and feigned a cough until she regained full control of herself. 'When do you think my flat will be available?' she asked as casually as she could. 'I miss my daughter.'

  'Likely tomorrow. Where is Julia? She's not with you in Sunnyvale?'

  He remembered her daughter's name! She glanced at him and hesitated for a second. Maybe it was time to signal her relationship status?

  'She's at her grandma's and with my ex-husband. He's a policeman in York.'

  Jack raised his eyebrows. His blue eyes twinkled behind the glasses.

  'Good to hear she's safe. You'd be worried sick if she was here.'

  'Of course. Like any parent. Do you have children?'

  It was too much of an opportunity to miss and Katie grabbed it.

  'No. I don't.' He paused and looked away. 'My ex-partner told me that apparently ambitious police officers weren't the best husband and father material.'

  Katie chewed on her cheek. She carefully considered her response. To be honest, she agreed with the statement, but then, Chris was a great dad. On the other hand, maybe "ambitious" was the key word here?

  'I don't like to generalise,' she said slowly. 'I can certainly confirm how difficult it is to fit shift work into family life. Particularly if you have young children, but I think policemen, being heroes, can be great dads. Particularly for boys.'

  Jack smiled. 'My dad has always been great. He was my personal hero when I was growing up. His skills in handling troubled teens came handy when I was going through a difficult patch or two.'

  The neat and cool-headed Jack Heaton being a troubled kid? That was interesting. Katie arched an eyebrow. 'You were a troubled teen?'

  Jack laughed. 'Hard to believe, huh? I went through a period of truancy. I did a bit of silly drinking and misbehaving at school when I bothered to turn up. But my dad's biggest worry was when I was actually at home, on my computer. I was playing hacker.'

  'Hacker? Did you-'

  'I did some silly things like breaking into the school's IT system. My dad got angry and had 'the talk' with me. He didn't preach, but he showed me that modern governments and various unsavoury people had access to means beyond my comprehension and could do really scary stuff. We talked about potential consequences. And he left me to decide which side of the law I wanted to be on.'

  His eyes glinted. Katie felt a little pang in her heart, or maybe it was her stomach–a butterfly climbing out of its cocoon? It made her feel a little fuzzy. She’d always had a soft spot for smart, independent boys who could figure out things for themselves.

  'You were a smart kid back then?'

  'Yeah, a bit too smarty pants, I'd say.' He laughed, and it made her knees turn cotton-candy again. She gave herself an imaginary elbow nudge.

  'What made you join the police service?'

  'Cybercrime. Around that time, I became interested in cybercrime. I took a degree in computer sciences and then dad and a couple of his friends talked me into shifting to law enforcement.'

  'We don't get much cybercrime here in Sunnyvale. We are more and old-fashioned murder type of town.'

  'Seems that way, certainly.'

  They laughed.

  'I was on a cybercrime team for a few years, and I still intend to go back to it. I'm normally based in the Midlands, but my dad is going through a cancer treatment and my mum has gone to spend some time with my brother and his family in Japan. They're due to have a second baby soon. I asked for a temporary transfer up here. So here I am.'

  So here he was. Charming and incredibly annoying at the same time. Katie clasped her hands and held them tight against her stomach. It seemed more butterflies were trying to hatch.

  'I'm sorry about your dad. I hope he gets well soon.'

  'The treatment is going okay so far. It's finishing soon. I invited him to
stay with me in Manchester. We could have transferred his treatment, but he didn't want to go. His medical team is amazing, and he loves his house and garden. I think the gardening has helped him through the worst of it.'

  Butterfly life cycle under control, Katie grabbed at a neutral topic. 'My grandmother was the same. She would spend hours in the garden tending to the vegetables and flowers. Even when she was very sick with arthritis then with bronchitis. She would always be out in the garden.'

  A moment of silence followed. With the topic turning towards family matters, Katie wasn't sure how to bring it back to what she wanted to talk about: Sofia's strange behaviour the previous night, or–more importantly–the progress of the murder investigations. Katie braced herself, ready to ask about unlawful entries and the like.

  Jack's phone rang, and he answered it. Obviously, he had a job to do, and so did Katie. She retreated to her office and turned on her computer.

  The flashing icon of a new email caught her eye. It was the public contact address, used for general enquiries, and sometimes silly pranks, nothing serious and not used very often. But Katie's job was to sift through the messages and pass on anything that required police attention. Zac Greenberg's name flashed in the subject line before the icon disappeared. She opened Outlook to check it.

  "Zac Greenberg - murder" the subject line read. The sender’s name was Bart Barrington.

  She gasped and rushed to the door.

  Jack was still on the phone. She waved him to draw his attention. He nodded and finished the conversation promptly.

  'You need to see this,' she called.

  He followed her into her office. She ushered him to the computer and stood behind him, looking over his shoulder, tension building in the back of her neck.

  'I assume you have a good antivirus program installed?' he asked, hovering the mouse over the email.

  'As usual,' she replied, stifling the joke growing in her mouth. It wasn't the time for jokes.

  He opened the email but there was no text, only two attached jpeg files. Katie held her breath.

  'Photos, interesting.' Jack muttered and clicked on the files. She watched as the photos loaded line-by-line.

  In the first one, two figures appeared on the brown-grey background of a winter forest. One tall and slim, dressed in jeans and what looked like a heavy-weather green jacket. The other man was short and stocky and wearing a dark raincoat. The taller man was standing with his back to the camera, his hands around the shorter man's neck.

  The second photo showed the same tall man leaning over the body of the shorter one.

  'I see,' Jack muttered again. 'Here's the date and time,' he added, scrolling to the bottom of the screen. 'Twenty-ninth of September. 10.30am.'

  'The time of murder, you think?'

  'May well be. It fits with the forensic evidence. Very handy.'

  'What do you mean?' Katie ventured a question.

  'Someone made an effort to take those photos with the time stamp. Obviously, to use as a piece of evidence.'

  'Against who?'

  'Good question, 'Jack replied, staring at the screen. He clicked to enlarge the part of the photo with the heads and contemplated it in silence for a while.

  Katie strained her eyes, but she didn't recognise either of the people in the photo. The person doing the strangling had shoulder-length dark brown hair tied in a ponytail, and a slim build. It could have been a man or a tall woman. The other's man face was red, with bulging eyes.

  'Do you recognise either of these people,' Katie asked. 'I've no idea who they could be.'

  'The guy who is being strangled is almost certainly the guy you found in the stream.'

  Katie flinched at the memory. 'I didn't get to see him. He was in a bag,' she said gratefully.

  'Yeah. I recognised him by his clothes and his build.'

  'Okay, so this is not Zac's murder. Why does the email subject line says it is?' Katie was confused.

  'Well spotted.' Jack nodded and closed the photo to look at the email again. 'If you look at it, it actually reads "Zac Greenberg - murder",' he pointed. Katie's cheeks flushed. She saw what she wanted to see? 'So, what's Zac's name doing here?' she asked quickly to cover her embarrassment.

  Jack clicked on the first photo again and pointed the mouse to the brown-haired person. 'We'll have the image analysed but to my eyes, this is Zac Greenberg. I think he's murdering the other guy. We've identified him as Ash Stanley'

  Jack clicked to print the photos.

  Katie considered the weight of what she had just seen and heard.

  'I'm struggling to make sense of it,' she said slowly. 'Isn't this email from Bart Barrington? The guy who supposedly wanted to find the Japanese puzzle box? Or rather the guy who pretended to be Barrington?'

  'That's right. We suspect that it was actually Ash Stanley who pretended to be Bart Barrington. The real Dr Barrington recognised him. '

  She shook her head repeatedly in hope this could help drive away the confusion.

  'Let me get it straight. Zac murdered Stanley, but someone watched it happen and took photos. And then sent them to the police from the murdered guy's false email account? That's just crazy!'

  'Agreed. We need more evidence to make it clearer, but this is what I suspect had happened.'

  'But why would anyone send these photos?'

  'Normally, this would incriminate Zac Greenberg, but since he's already dead, it's pointless.'

  Katie blinked. A sudden thought crossed her mind. 'Hang on a sec. Normally, this sort of thing would be used to blackmail people, but the potential blackmail victim, Zac, is dead. So, what's the purpose of this email? To confuse us? Because otherwise, the only thing I can come up with is that the person taking photos is Zac's murderer. But that means either there was a fourth person involved, who is now trying to tell us about the guy taking the photos. Or Zac's murderer is a half-wit who snitched on himself.'

  Jack turned around and looked at her. His blue eyes glinted again. 'Interesting hypotheses.'

  'Do you have another one?'

  'I prefer to have more data on which to base my hypothesis,' he answered, properly. Katie cringed. She kept forgetting about the logical side to him. No hunches, evidence only. A hot wave crept on her cheeks under his inspecting gaze. Oh, the embarrassment!

  'Hey, look–there is another email,' she called out, relieved to see a way to break the uncomfortable silence.

  An incoming message flashed on the screen. Jack switched to Inbox view.

  'Another one from our ghost,' he commented. 'And another photo. Let's check the IP this message was sent from before looking at the photo, shall we?'

  She didn't mind, of course.

  'So?' she asked after a few more clicks that revealed a long string of numbers and letters.

  'It's a local IP address. I was just about to give Dr Barrington a ring, but I suspect he's busy in his clinic. As suspected, someone’s using the victim’s mobile phone to send us those lovely pictures. Let's see what's in this one. Close your eyes in case of any gruesome pics,' he told Katie. She duly did.

  After a couple of clicks and a few seconds waiting, which Katie assumed were the picture loading, Jack groaned.

  'That doesn't make any sense at all,' he said.

  'Can I look?'

  'Yep. Nothing scary here. Just a photo of a phone.'

  Katie opened her eyes. The image on the screen was indeed an image of a mobile phone. There was some text on the phone. Jack clicked to enlarge it. They both leant closer, their heads nearly touching. Katie felt his warmth on her cheek and the musky smell of his aftershave. She forced herself to focus on the text.

  'There’s ... something,' he read slowly with difficulty. 'Hard to read, fancy hand-writing. Is this the sort of thing you do with your dip pens?'

  Katie froze and gulped. 'It depends,' she said pushing away the imagined image of her dip pen sticking out of Zac's neck. 'I think it's a fancy print rather than hand-writing. But I can't read the title eithe
r. It looks like an old legal document. There are some names there. Look!' She pointed to the place on the screen.

  Jack enlarged the photo.

  'I'm glad we print everything these days,' he said. 'It looks like an agreement between someone whose name I can't quite decipher and an old friend of ours, Harold Bower. The other name begins with an M or N. Or maybe it's an A. It's a very bad picture. It might be a photo of a photo,' he said and shrank the image again. 'We can enhance the image. We could also check with Harold or Michael Bower. They may have a copy of it. What's the address on the document?'

  'S– something Drive, I think,' he continued reading.

  'I think it's number one, Stream Drive,' Katie said, feeling her cheeks burning again. This time it was excitement. Or maybe curiosity.

  'Do you know the place?'

  'Stream Drive is the road running along the stream. Where I found the second body.'

  'How far is the house from where you found the body?'

  'Number 1 must be the house just around the corner from Dunbar place. It's been empty, abandoned for ages.'

  'Who's the current owner?'

  Katie shrugged. 'Apparently, it's something complicated. But I'm sure someone in town would know, if you’re open to listening to'–Katie couldn't help inserting a tiny sting into her comment—'gossip and hunches, with little logical evidence. Why is this agreement now being sent to us?'

  Jack pressed his lips together. His eyebrows shot up. 'I may need to,' he said, his voice clipped. 'Was there any problem with the house?'

  'No idea, apart from my own surprise that the Bowers haven't bought and bulldozed it yet. It's a lovely plot.'

  'Harold Bower's name is on the document and Michael is a key suspect in Zac's murder now. Interesting...' Jack exhaled loudly rubbing his clean-shaven chin. 'Interesting,' he repeated after a while and clicked on the picture to return it to its normal size.

  Katie started at the photo. She could see the dark brown, rounded line of the phone case lying on the table. It reminded her of something. The screen crack in the top left corner also looked familiar.