by J G Alva
Sutton shook his head.
“Why would I?”
Chip was watching him carefully.
“I don’t know. Just seems odd, is all. By all accounts, it was an accident. Dunbar junior said he was moving stock about when he knocked over a pallet with the forklift. He went to go look, and the whole bloody lot fell down on top of him.”
“Clumsy.”
“Uh-huh. Strange then, that he looks like someone gave him a beating.”
Sutton looked back down the road. A plastic bag was rolling along it, inflated by the wind. The sight made him feel lonely, for no reason he could put his finger on.
“That is strange,” Sutton said, turning back to Chip. “If that is what happened.”
Chip smiled. He shook his head, impressed.
“Remind me never to play poker with you, mate.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Right.”
“But as we’re talking about him…”
Chip was alerted by his tone.
“What?”
“You might want to take a closer look.”
“At what? At Dunbar junior?”
Sutton nodded.
“Rumour has it, there are some nasty things in his past.”
“Like what?”
Sutton shrugged.
“Let’s just say, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, but when it did finally drop, it was already rotten.”
Chip stared at him.
“He’s been to a lot of different learning establishments in his young life,” Sutton explained further. “You might – if you’re a curious man – want to find out why.”
Chip shook his head, amused.
“I am a naturally curious man, so I might very well do as you say, mate. Anyway, for now, I’ll be going.” Chip stood up. “Can’t stand around here all day talking. Got shit to do.”
“Sit down.”
The amusement left Chip’s face at Sutton’s tone.
“What?”
“I said, sit down. We’re not done.”
Chip tried to laugh it off.
“We are, mate, there’s somewhere I’ve got to be –“
“Liam Casey,” Sutton said, interrupting him. He leant back to stare up at Chip’s tall figure. “We’ve still got to talk about Liam Casey.”
Chip hesitated…and then sat back down.
◆◆◆
“It was risky,” Sutton said. He sounded slightly impressed; hell, he was impressed. And also angry. “Advocating an unlicensed consultant to a grieving relative of the victim.”
Chip shrugged. He was leaning on his knees, another cigarette burning between his fingers.
“We didn’t write anything down.”
“What did you hope to achieve?”
Chip sat back.
“What do you think?”
Sutton shook his head.
“I think it was madness. Grossly illegal, and completely immoral. You used a victim like a pawn. You marginalised her loss, for your gain. I think you’re fucking despicable. You and Lisa.”
Chip didn’t deny any of it. He kept his expression as neutral as possible, but a muscle jumped in his jaw.
Sutton continued.
“You planned to capture me aiding Jennifer Casey, in the hopes of indicting me on charges of hampering an investigation. How could that be worth all that hassle? All I’d get is a fine. And a warning. It seems crazy.”
Chip cleared his throat.
“You aint seen her in court, mate.”
“Who? Lisa?”
Chip nodded.
“She’s good?” Sutton asked.
“Yeah. Once she got you in there, I reckon she could do a lot more damage to you than just giving you a slap on the wrist. She went after your financials. You got some dodgy deals hidden in your records, let me tell you. On paper, you look like a criminal. You got money coming in from God knows where…and if you stood up in court and confessed to gifts from people you’d helped, the judge would laugh in your face. You’d go down, I reckon. Maybe not for a long time, but you’d do some time. And that’s all she wants. To knock you down.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“It doesn’t make any sense.”
Chip sighed.
“There aint no sense with women, mate. Haven’t you worked that out yet? That being said, Lisa’s as good as they get. I fancied her for years before I gave up and decided on being her mate instead. The truth is, she loved that bald bastard. I must admit, I kind of liked him. Real dry sense of humour. A funny fucker. Didn’t like football, did he? Had no time for it. But he ate food so hot I couldn’t even stand to be near it. I never thought Lisa’d fall for anyone. But she lost it with your mate Frederick and she hasn’t come back. Without him, she’s lost. Or mad. Hard to tell which. I thought helping her might bring her back, but truth be told, after you called me about Dunbar, I’d pretty much given up on going after you. I don’t agree with what you do, but you do seem to have a knack for it. The truth is, you should be a copper. And you know you should. Maybe you realised it too late. But you should be on the right side of the line. Out there, on your side…it’s too fucking dangerous. You’re on your own. It’s evil out there. And in the end, it’ll fucking kill you. You can’t always be looking over your shoulder. But I don’t think I’m telling you anything you don’t already know.”
Sutton thought about what Chip had said for a moment in silence.
Then he said, “I solved the Liam Casey murder, by the way. I worked out who killed him.”
Chip looked surprised, delighted…
And then he burst into laughter.
He laughed and rocked and even slapped his knee, he was so amused.
He wiped a tear from his eye and said, “serves us right. Come on then. Let’s hear it.”
“Well.” Sutton smiled. “She did it. The sister.”
Chip’s eyebrows rose an inch on his forehead.
“She killed her brother?”
“Yeah. And the way she did it…you’re not going to believe it.”
◆◆◆
“You’re right,” Chip said, after he had told him. “I don’t believe it. How did she do it?”
The sun was just beginning to set. It wasn’t dark yet, but it would be in an hour. The breeze was mild, but the nights were still crisp, and the wind would soon turn unfriendly.
Sutton said, “there’s a factory. Just outside of Tetbury. Not far from where the body was found. On the Market Downe Industrial Estate. It’s the last one, the last building on the estate; you can’t miss it. They manufacture all kinds of things…or they used to anyway, before the owner shut it down and decided to move all the machinery to one of his factories in Swindon. She lured him there. Jennifer. Don’t ask me how. I would guess with a promise of money. She knew he needed money. Then she incapacitated him. Hit him over the head with something, knocked him out cold. Then she strapped him to one of the CNC machines and programmed it with a sequence of operations that would torture him, but not kill him.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
CNC stood for computer numerical control which, when stripped of the fancy sounding name, basically meant that a program could be entered into a computer to cut, drill or otherwise fashion any type of metal – copper, aluminium, steel – into the shape and design required. Sutton had seen one in operation, a long time ago; a small one, but still impressive, and a little bit futuristic. Inside a sealed cabinet, he had watched a robotic arm – equipped with a drill at one end – move within the confines of the cabinet and quickly chip away at a small block of steel.
But that cabinet had only been as big as a kitchen cupboard.
“I checked the website. One of the machines they had there was a Sachman 9R80 milling machine. It’s usually used for machining from solid to cast engine components such as cylinder heads, but I’ve checked, and the main bed, in which you fasten the metal, is big enough to accommodate a man…w
ith some modification of course. If you were so inclined.”
“Okay,” Chip said, trying to work with it. “Okay. That’s fine. It’s nuts, but it’s fine. But the thing is, she wasn’t there to operate it. She was with someone pretty much the whole time he was being cut up and drilled and fucking beaten to death. All fucking day.”
“Yeah. And that’s why it’s so clever. The machine is automated, but you have to start the programme, right? So in the morning she starts the machine, and then leaves while it’s running. She goes to work, and while she’s at work the CNC machine is drilling holes in her brother.”
“I don’t know…”
“Then she has an hour before she visits with her sister-in-law. Now, it’s tight, but putting your foot down, you could make it to Tetbury and back. Maybe it would take a little longer than an hour. It’s impractical, but it could be done. I think she drove up there, as fast as she could – as fast as she dared – and then activated the second programme on the CNC machine, the one designed to finish him off, and then left immediately to go back and cement her alibi. Because that’s the important thing. That’s all that’s going to save her. The timing. And while she was with her sister-in-law the second programme did its thing. It killed her brother.”
This time, Chip was less inclined to be sceptical.
“It’s shaky,” he said eventually. “I mean, how did she even know about this factory? That it was abandoned, but still in working order? That nobody would see her, that nobody would hear her brother screaming for help and come rescue him? Huh? You see how shaky it is?”
“It’s in the middle of nowhere.”
Chip made a face.
“Yeah, but…”
“Also, her husband owns it.”
Chip checked him.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Sutton nodded.
Chip rubbed a hand across his chin.
“Fuck,” he said eventually, quietly. Now he sounded impressed.
“She knew about it because her husband told her about it. Maybe it was pillow talk; maybe it was just the usual conversations they had. How was your day, honey? Fine. I’ve just got all these machines in an abandoned factory to move. He told her everything: what machines were in it, what they did, when it was going to be empty, the fact that the power was still on. I don’t know how she actually figured out how to use a CNC machine – maybe you could ask her husband about that. Maybe he’d have an idea.”
“Then what?”
“So he dies when she’s playing with her niece, and she comes back at night and picks up the body. She dumps it in a field down the road. Not too close, so no one connects it to the factory. Not too far, because she’s a woman, and a dead body is heavy. She’s a local girl, so she knew where the farmhouse was, knew where she could drop the body without being seen. Then after it’s done, she goes back and cleans up the machine. It’s in Swindon now, but I bet if you checked it, you’d find blood residue on it.”
Chip said, “alright then. Why? Why did she kill her brother? What did she possibly have to gain?”
“I don’t know,” Sutton admitted. “But my guess, it’s something to do with money. It’s all about money, right? You said so yourself. I spoke to a local, and apparently the two of them were spotted coming out of the bank in Tetbury together. So something was going on. My personal opinion? I think the brother was blackmailing her.”
“With what?”
“I don’t know. But he needed money, and she had it. Her husband was very wealthy. So the brother asked for more and more money. Hubby could spare it. But she could only give her darling sibling so much. Or the husband would find out. And it was important he didn’t. And then maybe the husband did find out. Maybe the brother finally delivered on his promise to expose her. Maybe it was envy: she had the perfect life, after all; he had nothing. Maybe what he told the husband destroyed the marriage. Apparently, they’re getting divorced. So the brother destroyed her perfect life, the one she had tried so hard to build. From nothing. Maybe this was revenge for that.”
“A lot of fucking maybes,” Chip remarked.
“Well. That’s up to Detective Bocksham to sort out. He’s looking into it now. But I bet I’m right. And you’ll know soon enough.”
Chip shook his head in disbelief, but he was staring at Sutton with something like wonder.
“You’ve got a fucking gift,” he said finally. “It’s spooky. But I don’t think I’d fucking want it.”
“We’ve all got our crosses to bear.”
“Fuck, you should be one of us.”
Sutton shook his head.
“I’m not good at taking orders.”
“I can see that,” Chip remarked, with sarcasm. “I pushed you, and you pushed back twice as hard. Alright then.” Chip stood up. “There’s a lot of things I should be doing.”
Sutton stood too.
“Yes.”
Chip hesitated, and then said, “I can try and talk to Lisa. If you want.”
It was an olive branch, and Sutton appreciated the offer. But the detective didn’t look happy at the prospect.
Sutton said, “no. I have to talk to her. If I can. I have to try to make her stop. Or she’ll end up ruining her own life.”
“Good luck. But I already warned her about that. It went in one ear and out the other. I aint sure you can reach her. That anyone can.”
Sutton smiled slightly.
“I’ve got something up my sleeve that might work.”
◆◆◆
Lisa Hopkins’ new place was a house in the suburbs.
The streetlights were widely spaced, but bright enough to reveal most of the details. It was a narrow home, with a square of lawn out front. It would have been advertised as two bedroom house, ideal for single professional or young couple; no pets. It was reasonably tidy: a red brick building twenty years old, with white cladding. A concrete driveway beside the building led to a wooden gate at the back.
While Sutton sat in his car waiting for her to return, it started to rain. Not heavy, but enough to darken the road. It pattered distractedly on his car roof. He was overcome with a feeling of desolation, staring at the narrow house. There was just something so shrunken and forlorn about the abode. He tried to imagine her life in it, without Freddie: her shopping hitting the kitchen counter with a loud clatter in the silent house; sleepless nights in the empty bed; ready meals for one heated in the microwave; sitting on the sofa in front of the TV and spooning the hot food into her mouth with flat, dead eyes.
And at night, contemplating all that she had lost; not just a partner, but a life.
And perhaps thinking about how best to get back at Sutton Mills.
It would be a welcome distraction…which was why it had consumed her so.
A dark red Honda Jazz slowed, and then turned into the driveway.
Lisa.
Sutton got out of his car and crossed the road to meet her.
As she climbed out of her own vehicle, he said, “it won’t work.”
She yelped with fright and dropped her handbag.
When she saw it was him, it was as if a mask came down over her features. She retrieved her handbag from the floor.
“What are you doing here?” She asked.
“It won’t work,” he repeated.
“What won’t work?”
“Your trap. Liam Casey. It won’t work.”
She didn’t reply.
The rain ran down her brown leather jacket, darkened her hair
She turned and shut the door of her car and locked it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Please leave.”
“You spoke to Jennifer Casey. You asked her to come to me for help.”
“If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”
“You wanted me to look into the death of her brother. So you could catch me doing something illegal –“
“Fine. I’m calling the police. Right now. I warned you.”
&n
bsp; She rummaged in her handbag and pulled out her mobile.
She was dialling on it when he knocked it out of her hand.
The phone clattered to the floor.
Fear flashed in her eyes briefly.
He continued, “you were going to get Detective Bocksham to testify against me. You had Detective Leeman follow me, so he could back up Bocksham’s testimony. All of it so you could get me into court.”
Lisa did not speak. But her face was as hard and immoveable as granite.
“But it won’t work. Because I figured it out. I just wanted you to know.”
She hesitated, and then said, “when did you figure it out?”
“Almost right away. Jennifer Casey came to my flat and told me her story, but she didn’t tell me all of it. Usually, when people come to me, they tell me too much. They’re so frustrated it comes spilling out of them. Jennifer left out a lot, and at the time I couldn’t understand it. She didn’t tell me she was married; she didn’t tell me she was getting a divorce. Simple things, but things someone who genuinely wanted help wouldn’t have left out. But she didn’t want to be there, and she didn’t want my help. She put on a good performance, but that’s all it was: a performance. She had to be there, because you’d suggested it. Not going would have been suspicious. But she didn’t really want my help at all. Because she’d murdered her brother. And she’d pretty much gotten away with it.”
Surprise made Lisa’s eyes go wide for a moment.
“I didn’t –“
“No, you didn’t,” Sutton said, interrupting her. He was angry, and he was in no mood to hide it from her. “Instead, you embarked on this ridiculous campaign to try and frame me. Have you asked yourself why? Why you are so keen to bring me down?”
Now she too was angry. And she was also in no way inclined to hide it.
“You know why.”
“I know why you think you have to do it. As some kind of perverted justice for your husband. Which is ironically what you’ve done in order to set it in motion. But the truth is you’re angry, and you just want revenge. So you can feel better.”
“That is not it,” Lisa said, standing up straighter. “You’re a liability. You’re dangerous. You get people killed. You need to be put away, so you don’t hurt anybody else.”
