The Third Breath

by Malcolm Hollingdrake

  “No, just bear with me and I’ll be fine. The medical, yes, he was diagnosed with a slight irregular heartbeat. It had never been detected before and they suggested that he should get it checked out again in a few weeks. They said it could be stress related and what with the new business and everything…”

  “And everything?”

  “He always pushed himself even in business; ever since I’ve known him he’s been driven to succeed, to be the best he could be. He became more anxious though after he successfully won the new contract. Anxious is probably not the right word. He was more protective, checking where and when we were going out, where Tilly was and who she was playing with.” She laughed. “He was always so protective though where she was concerned. He’d have wrapped her in cotton wool if I’d let him. He was working long hours too, he’d just ring and say he’d be late.”

  April again was a step ahead, her intuition telling her that there was something behind those comments. “Did he have an office here in the house?”

  Mrs Baines nodded. “Yes, just along the corridor.”

  “Would you mind if DCI Bennett had a look round?”

  “Has Bill done something wrong?” There was clear anxiety audible in her tone and her eyes immediately looked directly into April’s.

  Cyril did not speak but they both smiled. “It’s sort of routine,” April lied.

  She nodded and once he was in the corridor, Cyril put on some gloves.

  It was a while before he returned. The women were sitting with the girls on the floor in the lounge and for the first time he could hear laughter. There were toys spread haphazardly and April was wrapped in a shawl.

  “I have two lovely nurses who are making me better.”

  The girls turned and looked at Cyril.

  “Is she well enough for me to take her home?” he asked as he crouched and felt April’s forehead.

  The girls looked at each other and nodded. “You must look after her. She’s very special.”

  “She is indeed and I shall, I promise.”

  April looked at Cyril and blushed slightly.

  He held out his hand before helping her to her feet.

  “Just one more thing, Mrs Baines. Your husband’s personal belongings were still in the vehicle: his case, phone and wallet. Will you just look at this list of items and let me know if he had anything else with him that day?”

  She scanned the list. “No, no that looks fi…” She paused and went over the list a second time. “He has two phones, one belonging to work and his personal mobile. They’re both identical so how he tells them apart I don’t know.”

  Cyril looked at April. Within minutes they were heading back to Harrogate.

  “She’s worried he was seeing another woman, the sister mentioned it when she went to put the kettle on. It was just a feeling Mrs Baines had, no evidence. She’s struggling though so she might believe anything.” She paused. “Those were kind words you said to my two young nurses, Detective Chief Inspector.”

  Cyril just smiled. “His missing phone. I wonder if he left it at the office.”

  He took his mobile from his jacket and looked through a number of images. “I think we can now justify the expense of DNA testing of the items found in Baines’s car.” Looking at his phone whilst travelling suddenly brought beads of sweat to his forehead and the feeling of nausea to his stomach. He swiftly opened the window to allow the cooler air to hit his face.

  “Stop at his office, April. I want to check to see if his phone is there but from what I’ve found today, somehow I doubt it.”

  14

  The evening was warm as Claire Baldwin parked the car but left the engine running. She welcomed the air conditioning, its constant blast of cooling air relieving some of her anxiety. She had decided not to put the top down for fear of blowing her hair into a tangled mess. The house was set some way back from the main road along what appeared to be a private lane. She looked again at the address on the card before glancing at the satnav. It was correct. She flipped down the sun visor and the lights on either side of the vanity mirror lit up. Moving a hand to each ear she checked that her earrings were still in situ. For some reason she had never summoned the courage to have her ears pierced and therefore could only wear clip-on earrings. On many occasions she would often return home with only one! Today, however, she wore some that her aunt had given to her, made from fragments of ancient Chinese pottery, ringed in silver, and as a gift, were worn only on special occasions. This afternoon’s meeting was special for Claire, and the reason for the earrings and the fluttering in her stomach. She glanced at her hair, adjusted the front and closed the flap over the mirror. She was ready.

  Moving up the pathway she admired the well-tended garden. The smell from the lavender bushes that formed a continuous purple border was aromatic and heady. It wafted into the still air as she deliberately brushed past, its luscious scent lingering long after she had mounted the two steps set before the blue-green door; the words eau de Nil immediately came to mind. She took a deep breath and lifted the knocker before allowing it to crash against the striker.

  Within minutes, the door swung open and a familiar smiling face greeted her.

  “Ms Baldwin, welcome. How lovely to see you. No difficulty finding it?” he asked as a welcoming grin spread across his face as he showed her through to the conservatory. “I thought you’d be more comfortable in here on such a pleasant afternoon.”

  The hallway was cool and she immediately felt the contrast as they moved towards the back of the house. As they walked down the corridor, he checked the toilet door was closed securely.

  She was initially struck by the size of the room. It was light and airy. A ceiling fan slowly rotated bringing a cooling disturbance to the air; it was warm but comfortable. Wicker chairs and small tables stacked with colourful magazines sat elegantly filling the space. It was as if the scene had been lifted from a Home and Garden magazine; nothing seemed out of place. Whoever had furnished the room had a good eye.

  He slid his hand into his pocket and pressed the remote switch. In a toilet down the corridor behind the secured door, the lid flipped automatically open on the large concealed flask.

  “Refreshment?” he smiled. “We can then sit in the garden and chat, we have much to thank you for. Homemade lemonade… or would you prefer something a little stronger perhaps?”

  For the first time since the two deaths, Cyril felt as though he was justified in organising a full briefing. After speaking at length with Cyril, the coroner had requested more evidence before the cause of death could be stated. The nag in the pit of Cyril’s stomach had not only increased but the discovery of three items in Bill Baines’s home office had convinced him that, as Julie had said, something was definitely rotten… It was not in the state of Denmark but it was there, right under his nose and he did not like the stench. He felt sure the deaths were not isolated incidents and although there was no evidence to think David Stephens’s death was anything other than natural causes at this stage, Cyril was determined to investigate both further.

  The room buzzed with a degree of anticipation. He had said nothing to anyone, not even Owen. Cyril wanted them all to see what he had found at the same time so he could judge their responses. Dependent on that he would know whether he could justifiably release his hounds to scrutinise and investigate the lives of both dead men. He appreciated that, at this stage, he had more questions that required clear and defined answers. He needed Forensic help and for that to happen he needed resources, valuable and expensive resources.

  Cyril looked around the room at the familiar faces and reflected on their past successes. He felt proud of what they, as a group, a team of professional individuals, had achieved in their time together. He was also aware that one of his key members of the team, Shakti Misra, was due back from leave in four days’ time and that Smirthwaite would be commencing his.

  Cyril tapped his e-cigarette on the table and the chattering and laughter ceased. Suddenly consci
ous of the sea of inquisitive faces looking in his direction, he felt a surge of adrenalin and knew in that instant why he loved his job so much; it was like turning a switch, it was game on. He let the anticipation hang, soaking up the moment like the final seconds before the starter’s gun rips away the silence. Cyril turned to look at Brian Smirthwaite.

  “Brian, whatever elements you work on with this case you’ll be liaising with Shakti on her return. You’ll have twenty-four hours to overlap. Keep it tight, and please enjoy your holiday when it comes, you’ve earned it. Sorry you’ll miss this one.”

  A rumble of laughter ran round the room as Brian showed disappointment on his face but then broke into a huge smile and pumped the air with his fist.

  Owen came in with a number of identical files and handed them out. “Hot off the press,” he mumbled. “Read and inwardly digest.”

  “Thanks, Owen. Page one. April and I went to visit Mrs Baines a few days ago and we managed to get the chance to look in her late husband’s home office. What we discovered has now been officially cleared with the family and they’re aware that the circumstances surrounding his sudden death might not be as was first thought. His wife said that he’d been a little over-protective prior to his sudden and unexplained death. He’d also had a health check as he was taking out extended life cover. Which came first? I can’t say at this moment but one must have begotten the other. The insurance was to cover monies raised for the business on his mortgage. It made sense considering his family commitments and circumstances.

  “It was discovered during the medical that he was suffering from an irregular heartbeat, arrhythmia. The report is there, item 1C. This medical condition cannot be detected after death and so it’s only just come to light. Speaking with the pathologist, arrhythmia can result in sudden death but I’m assured that this condition was not the cause in this case.”

  “I see that the insurance company still agreed to provide the life cover even after the diagnosis so they themselves were not overly concerned,” Nixon added.

  “There may have been a financial consequence,” a voice from the far side piped in. “They don’t give owt for nowt.”

  “Let’s not go off piste just yet. We need to focus on what we have here.” Cyril’s tone brought back their focus. “We also see that he was responsible for winning a new contract. He received a note from a Claire, no surname, no date, no address, and so no trace details. It suggested that management of the atmosphere and environment within chill and purification area was bordering on criminal negligence, her succinct words, as the food factory had caused a number of health issues within the specific plant. That these factors had initially been concealed. There was also a need to shut a line, but she doesn’t go into detail. What we do know is that this came before they appointed Baines’s operation as new health and safety advisors. We should know when this occurred from the factory records providing it was declared or from the findings from the Health and Safety Executive. There’s nothing here to suggest that Baines had any involvement officially or unofficially around that date. There’s more, something a little more cryptic. She adds a note at the end. I’ve seen the face again!”

  “Seen the face again? Who? What? Where? And why?” asked Owen.

  “She was specific, using the definite article.”

  Sitting next to Owen, April wrote down the word ‘the’ and slid it in front of him. He quickly reciprocated with the word ‘Ta!’

  “Right! So why write the note? Does it suggest that this Claire must work at the factory?” April asked this specific and open question to draw further thought and comment.

  Cyril raised an eyebrow, knowing that she had just baited a very large hook.

  Smirthwaite came in immediately. “What about the previous advisors, the ones losing the contract, the experts whose lack of action brought in the damning inspection from the Health and Safety Executive?”

  “According to that report, certain failings brought part of the factory to a standstill. Says here in the HSE report that it was specifically to do with a negative pressure room, whatever that is, and that it was in use when the necessary safety equipment was neither maintained nor working. If it were closed down for days you can imagine the losses and the trouble that would bring. No wonder their contract was revoked. However, we cannot be certain that the note we found refers to this specific incident and we shouldn’t immediately put the two together.”

  “What we do know,” Cyril interjected, “just like the note implies is that these serious failings were with part of the water purification and freezing process that require the use and safe storage of inert gases. Brian that’s for you. Names and checks on those working for the Newcastle firm who have just had their contract cancelled. Find if any lost their jobs just before or immediately after that date. Get addresses and pictures, you know the score.”

  Brian lifted his pencil, acknowledging the request.

  “Who was the responsible person on site?” Owen asked.

  “It’s in the file. Arthur Thorndyke was off sick at the time of the inspection and a deputy was in charge. The names are there, Owen, that’s for you to check. If you can question both, please.”

  “Sir.”

  April raised her hand. “It was also suggested by the sister I spoke with at the house that Mrs Baines had expressed concerns that her husband might be having an affair, she was worried because he was working late and seemed anxious. There was no evidence of that, and Claire may well be a legitimate work contact but it’s worth bearing in mind.”

  Cyril brought the discussion to a close on that issue. “There are two further things. Number one, we need to identify this person named on the note. Who is Claire? Secondly, I said that we found a number of items in his office but then there was this…”

  Like a magician, Cyril had saved the best until last. He pulled on a pair of gloves before lifting a plastic carrier bag he had placed beneath the table. He extracted a bundle that was wrapped in a sheet of newspaper. He carefully unwrapped it revealing notes smothered in cling film.

  “We can only guess as to the value but if these are all twenty-pound notes you’re looking at the thick end of five grand. Mrs Baines, as you can imagine, was shocked when she found out. Said money was tight and that she’d no idea it was there.”

  “And the newspaper headline on the wrapping?” April asked.

  Cyril held it up.

  Huge Fine for Local Food Processing Plant

  There was silence.

  Owen was the first to speak. “Forensics on it?”

  “As yet, no. This is how it was found, apart from the sealed, protective outer carrier bag.”

  “And we don’t know if Baines was about to donate it or had just received the money I take it?” someone asked.

  Cyril just shrugged. “What it does do is provide us with a justification to look into his death in more detail. You’ll read from the autopsy that we’re awaiting a report from histopathology on certain samples. I also want to investigate further Stephens’s death and his businesses. There are, for me at least, too many similarities. Lastly, we have a missing mobile phone. Baines had two, one for personal use and one for business. To make matters worse, they were identical. His wife knew the passcode to his personal phone but the tech people have tried the code without success. So the one found in his car may well be the one used for business.”

  Turning to DC Dan Grimshaw, who was leaning by one of the whiteboards, Cyril instructed, “Dan, you’re into this techy stuff. Chase that up and get hold of both phones’ histories.”

  Dan smiled. Cyril’s unfamiliarity with technology was well known within the team. “It’s impossible to get into an iPhone if you don’t have the passcode or the correct finger as the passcode encrypts the contents. The same happens with a laptop if the owner has set up encryption using something like BitLocker…” As it was clear that the technical information was drifting over Cyril’s head, Dan said, “Leave it with me.”

  Cyril suddenl
y felt old and disinclined. He said nothing, only nodded his thanks. He was aware so much police time was taken up trawling through phone and Internet files and records. Ensuring that vital evidence was neither missed nor lost, brought with it additional burdensome cost implications. On the other hand, he was also aware that a number of national criminal cases had failed through not pursuing this kind of evidence sufficiently. If he were to be honest, this part of policing frustrated his natural curiosity.

  15

  Claire stood by the open French windows admiring the view, as she carried on the conversation with a distant voice that seemed lost somewhere in the depths of the house. They chatted about the usual mundane things, the weather and the view she was now enjoying. Providing he could hear her from afar, he was happy with that for the present.

  On the patio was a small mosaic topped table. The wrought iron legs, once painted white, were showing signs of rust. In places the paint was cracked, strangely giving the table an attractive antique look. On the top was a glass dome, an old type cloche. Her curiosity drew her towards it. Trapped within its amber surface she could see hundreds of what appeared to be bubbles encased within the glass. It was then that she focussed on what it covered. It was a bundle of currency, twenty-pound notes secured within a broad band of paper on which was written her name. She looked more closely. Next to it were three potatoes.

  “Walk to the tree, you get a wonderful view of the water down in the valley,” he announced, his voice still distant. “The grass will be dry.”

  Gratefully, she moved away from the patio and the final part of his sentence drifted away as if caught on the light breeze. Occasionally she looked back at the glass cloche, her stomach tumbling, a mix of excitement and uncertainty. She knew that she was to be rewarded but the money trapped beneath the glass seemed more than she could have hoped for.