Deadly Motive

by DS Butler

  Charlotte attempted a smile. “They just want to ask you a few questions, nothing to worry about.”

  Gus turned towards her. “Do you believe me?”

  Yes, she thought. I do. But she didn’t say it aloud. She pulled open the door and waited for him to walk through.

  79

  On their journey back to London, Charlotte was angry, actually furious, but she couldn’t put her anger into words.

  She believed Gus. Believed he hadn’t done anything worse than send a few emails to a bloke he thought let his father down when he was at his most vulnerable.

  As Mackinnon turned onto the A40, Charlotte leaned forward and switched the radio off. God, she hated phone-ins.

  “Okay, go on,” Mackinnon said.

  “What?”

  “You’ve obviously got something to say, so you may as well spit it out.”

  “What will happen to him now?”

  Mackinnon shrugged, “Tyler will question him. If there’s enough evidence, they will charge him.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t do it.”

  Mackinnon half turned in his seat, smiling. “Wish I had your confidence. How do you know he didn’t do it?”

  Charlotte stared stonily ahead, watching the traffic.

  “The emails are pretty damning, then you’ve got the entry logs,” Mackinnon said. “If he did it, we’ll get it out of him, one way or another.”

  “I don’t think he did it,” Charlotte said.

  Mackinnon sighed and leaned back in his seat, pulling at his seatbelt.

  “He said he didn’t. I believe him,” Charlotte said.

  Mackinnon turned and a flash of anger played over his features. “And where is your evidence for that?”

  Charlotte shook her head and continued in a quieter voice. “I just don’t believe he would do it,” she said. “Can we stop at the services?”

  Mackinnon nodded.

  When they reached the turnoff, Mackinnon indicated and drove onto the slip road. The car park was busy, but Mackinnon managed to park in a spot between an Astra and a transit van. He turned to face Charlotte.

  “Look,” he said. “I know he’s caught up in a tragic situation, but that can’t excuse what he has done.”

  “But he hasn’t…”

  Mackinnon interrupted her. “The evidence pointed to him as soon as we arrived. You saw Mrs. Gilmore’s car, the Ford Ka. There were fast food wrappers on the floor, more likely to be Gus’ rather than Linda’s, right?”

  Charlotte nodded, not seeing where Mackinnon was heading with this.

  “I asked Mrs. Gilmore, and she said that Gus used the car too, didn’t she?”

  Again Charlotte nodded.

  Mackinnon switched off the engine, but neither of them got out.

  “On the floor next to the other rubbish there was a flier.” Mackinnon said. “A bright yellow flier, advertising Bob’s Fried Chicken. The same type of yellow flier that was stuck on Weston’s car windscreen, next to the note supposedly left by the animal rights extremists. You think that is a coincidence?”

  Charlotte didn’t answer.

  “Big coincidence,” Mackinnon said.

  “You’re sure it was the same flier?”

  “As far as I know, there isn’t a Bob’s Fried Chicken in Oxford. And definitely not one that has a takeaway number with a London area code. I reckon that car must have been parked near Weston’s office at some point.”

  “Still, it’s not exactly overwhelming evidence, is it?” Charlotte said, pulling open the passenger door.

  “But together with the emails...” Mackinnon said. “I’m going to run the number plate through the ANPR, see when that car was in London.”

  “It’s awful, messing up people’s lives like that,” Charlotte said, remembering how Linda Gilmore had to leave the room to vomit after they had told her about the emails.

  Charlotte got out of the car and shut the door behind her.

  80

  “You are not going to believe this.” Mackinnon said, pulling back the ring pull on a can of Coke.

  They’d been back at Wood Street Station for two hours, waiting on news from DI Tyler’s interview with Gus Gilmore.

  Charlotte picked up her coffee cup to take a sip and realized it was empty. She sighed and put it back down on the table.

  “You want another?” Mackinnon said.

  “No, thanks. So what’s this unbelievable news you have heard?”

  “The symposium is going ahead on Thursday.”

  Charlotte picked up the papers she was looking at and moved them from her lap to the table. She shook her head and said, “It was cancelled.”

  “Sir Jim’s been niggling away at them upstairs. I just heard it from Brookbank himself. He isn’t pleased either, but I suppose it is Thames Valley who will be most pissed off. They will have to find the extra manpower to cover it.”

  Charlotte looked out of the window and thought about Gus. “I suppose they think that if Gus is guilty, the symposium can go ahead, now that he’s out of the way.”

  Mackinnon took a couple of gulps from his Coke and thought for a minute. “All those students crammed together, it would be the perfect opportunity…”

  “Jesus.”

  “I can tell you where I won’t be on Friday. That’s for sure,” Mackinnon said.

  Charlotte leaned back in her chair. “I was thinking of going.”

  Mackinnon coughed as he struggled to swallow a mouthful of Coke.

  Before he could say anything, Charlotte said, “I thought it might be interesting. But I know it would probably bore you rigid.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right about that.”

  Charlotte filled Mackinnon in on the latest she had heard from the HPA.

  It was only a matter of time before they narrowed it down and identified the toxin as either the pure source of aconite used in the laboratory, or a mixture of compounds, which would indicate a natural source.

  Only a matter of time.

  81

  When Mackinnon arrived home, all the lights were off.

  He shouted out in case anyone was home and opened the refrigerator door. The light illuminated the kitchen while he pondered over the contents. In the end, he pulled out a can of lager, butter and some sliced ham. He switched on the kitchen light and got bread from the bread bin and started to assemble a sandwich.

  Deciding he needed mustard, the bright yellow English stuff, not the weak French variety, he looked through the cupboards, trying to find it when a piece of paper caught his eye on the kitchen table.

  It was a note from Chloe telling him she had gone to Katy’s parents’ evening. He looked at his watch. Shit. No point going now, it would be almost over. He’d be in the doghouse with both of them when they got back. Although he didn’t really think it was his place to be going along to a parents’ evening.

  Sighing at the inevitable, he sat down at the table with the lager and sandwich in front of him. There was unopened mail on the table. He flicked through the envelopes. The first was a bank statement. Why couldn’t they do away with all this paper? He was happy enough using e-banking, despite the fact it now required three passwords, instead of the original one. It was so secure that half the time, he couldn’t access it himself.

  He took a swig from the can of lager and moved on to the rest of the mail. Two circulars, better than normal, they often got upwards of five pieces of junk mail between them.

  The last envelope he came to was unusual. It was plain white, addressed to him, but there was no company logo or return address on the back. He set down his can of lager and opened it.

  He was still sitting at the table with the open letter and untouched ham and mustard sandwich in front of him ten minutes later when Chloe and Katy got home.

  He barely noticed Chloe’s frosty tone or Katy’s reproachful look as they entered the kitchen.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off the letter.

  It promised to reveal Sarah’s whereabouts i
f details on the police investigation into John Weston’s murder were sent to an email address. But Sarah was just staying at a friend’s, wasn’t she?

  He sat motionless, holding it in front of him.

  Chloe looked at it over his shoulder. He heard her catch her breath and tell Katy to go upstairs. Chloe waited until she heard Katy’s bedroom door shut, then took Mackinnon’s face in her hands and turned it towards her.

  “I just tried calling her mobile. She’s not answering. Have you sent the email yet?” she asked.

  Her skin was flushed and her eyes were wild and staring. She pulled the letter from his hands. “I’ll do it now.”

  He got up and followed her. “Wait. We can’t.”

  She spun around, turning on him, her eyes wild. “What do you mean? Of course we can! She’s my daughter. The letter says they know where she is. She’s not answering her phone. What if she’s been abducted?”

  Mackinnon took the letter back, unclasping her fingers as gently as he could. “I’m sorry, we can’t.”

  She tried to snatch the letter back, with a force that surprised him. She wedged her elbow against his ribs and tried to wrench the letter from him.

  He tried to stop her, to hold her still, so he could explain, but she slipped from his grasp and made another grab for the letter, trying to wrestle it free.

  Katy appeared at the top of the stairs, her face white. “Stop it!”

  82

  Despite the late hour, DCI Brookbank told Mackinnon he would meet him at the station when Mackinnon had explained the letter’s contents over the phone.

  Brookbank was already in his office when Mackinnon arrived. Mackinnon handed him the letter, then sat with his head bowed.

  Brookbank read it quickly.

  “You did the right thing. In all likelihood, they know nothing about Sarah, nothing at all,” Brookbank said. “They’ve found out she is missing, knew you were working the case, and thought they could exploit you.”

  Mackinnon nodded. That was the most likely explanation, but a part of him thought maybe there might be a chance. The smallest chance.

  “When did you last hear from Sarah?” Brookbank asked.

  “Chloe spoke to her yesterday.”

  “And she gave no indication she was in trouble? Scared?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Have you told anyone about the letter?”

  Mackinnon looked up, surprised at the question.

  “Have you told Chloe?” Brookbank asked, his tone soft.

  “She saw it. She wanted to...” Mackinnon broke off and stared at the floor.

  “It’s understandable, of course. We have to handle it this way, though. You understand that don’t you, Jack?”

  Mackinnon looked up, surprised at Brookbank’s use of his first name. “I thought maybe we could work with this, sir.”

  Mackinnon explained his idea. He wanted the team to contact the email address as instructed in the letter, but feed them the wrong information, then wait for a response. Wait to see if they really knew where Sarah was.

  Brookbank was silent for thirty seconds or so, thinking things through.

  “Jack, we have Gus in custody. He could have sent the letter before we picked him up. We’ll question him. I’ll personally make sure we find out anything he knows about Sarah.”

  “And if Gus didn’t send the letter?” Mackinnon asked.

  “We can’t handle this on our own. We need to report this to Thames Valley. They’ll find her. From our end, we can give the email address to the techies and get the letter to forensics, see if we can get any leads from that. But, promise me, Jack, no contact,” Brookbank said. “You should keep trying Sarah’s mobile, try all her friends.”

  “Chloe’s rung all Sarah’s friends already.” Mackinnon failed to keep the irritation out of his voice.

  Brookbank nodded. “They’ll find her. We have to leave this to the experts.”

  Mackinnon closed his eyes and told himself it made sense; It was the right way to do this. “I don’t know if I can.”

  83

  The following morning, Mackinnon wasn’t around. Charlotte tried his mobile, but it was switched off. She had spent hours looking back over the notes she made on aconite, trying to gather ammunition that would convince Brookbank to cancel the symposium.

  Thirty minutes on the phone talking to Jameson from the Thames Valley Health Protection Unit hadn’t been helpful. He told her, off the record, that he would feel more comfortable if the symposium were cancelled, but pointed out that no threats had been made against the actual event.

  Thames Valley HPU would be on standby, and the usual police presence around the area, which was high anyway because of the scheduled protest, would be raised.

  As it happened, Charlotte didn’t need to search for Brookbank in the end. He came to her, asking for a quiet word, and she followed him to his office.

  Once inside, Brookbank closed his door, sat down and gestured for her to do the same. “DS Mackinnon might not be around today. If you have any problems or need help with anything, you can speak to DI Tyler, or come to me.”

  The first thought through Charlotte’s mind was something might have happened with Mackinnon’s daughter. Charlotte hesitated before asking, not wanting to pry.

  “Has something happened? Is it about Sarah?” Charlotte asked.

  Brookbank paused and looked at her as if he were debating how much to tell her.

  Charlotte shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  Brookbank was still looking at her like he couldn’t quite decide what to say. Then he sighed. “It’s a personal matter.”

  Charlotte nodded. “Sure. I understand.”

  Brookbank looked down at his desk, at the papers in neat piles arranged in front of him.

  “I did want to speak to you, actually, about the symposium,” Charlotte said. “I really think it should be cancelled,” Charlotte said. “With all those people gathered in one place, if anything were to happen...”

  Brookbank gave a slow nod and clasped his hands in front of him, resting them on the desk. “I do understand your concerns, but no threat has been made against the symposium in particular. There have been over twenty serious threats against the university in the last six months. The university would have to close down if it acted on all of them.”

  Brookbank paused to look at Charlotte. “There will be an increased police presence on the day of the symposium, but we can’t cancel every event the university has planned from now up to when animal house opens.” Brookbank smiled to soften his words.

  Charlotte could hear Sir Jim’s influence behind the DCI’s words, but what else could she do?

  She got to her feet and told Brookbank she would be out of the office for a while, but she had her mobile. She needed to get Nan to Oxford today for the start of the arthritis trial.

  84

  Katy came home from school at lunchtime. She’d been thinking about Sarah and hadn’t been able to concentrate at school this morning.

  It was a surprise to see Mum sitting at the kitchen table. She was never usually home during the day, but since Sarah had run away, things weren’t really normal anymore.

  She looked at her funny when Katy said hello and just sat there holding the telephone in her hand. She didn’t put it to her ear and dial, and she didn’t hang up either.

  “Are you going to use the phone?” Katy asked her.

  She looked at Katy like she was talking Japanese. But of course, Katy couldn’t talk Japanese. Her school only offered classes in boring German or French.

  Katy heard the front door close. “That will be Jack,” she said in a tone that meant she better sort herself out.

  Jack walked in with a couple of shopping bags and dumped them on the kitchen table. “Any news?”

  Mum still didn’t move. Just sat there, holding the phone.

  “Chloe?” Jack said when she didn’t respond.

  They were probably
going to start another argument. Katy headed out to the car for the safety of unloading the shopping.

  Katy lifted two more carrier bags and a box of washing powder out of the car boot. She nearly dropped the washing powder and only managed to stop it falling to the floor by grabbing it against her ribs, which hurt and probably left a bruise.

  When she returned to the kitchen, she saw Jack had his arms around Mum’s shoulders and her head was buried against his chest. Her shoulders jerked.

  “What’s happened?” Katy asked.

  Jack looked up.

  There was a metallic taste in Katy’s mouth. She swallowed. “Mum?”

  Mum reached out for Katy and hugged her against her side. She kissed Katy on the forehead. “Sarah called. She’s all right, said she’s coming home,” Mum said, squeezing her tight.

  “Today?” Katy asked.

  “One step at a time, sweetheart,” Mum said as she ruffled Katy’s hair.

  “Where is she?” Jack asked.

  “Staying at Jessica’s house.”

  “Her friend from college?” Jack asked. “I thought you had tried her?”

  Mum loosened her grip on Katy. “Go upstairs, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, but…”

  “Now, Katy.”

  Katy stomped out of the room, but she didn’t go upstairs. She sat down at the bottom of the stairs and listened.

  “I thought you tried all her friends,” Jack said. “We’ve got half the Thames Valley Police force out looking for her.”

  “I did phone Jessica. She told me Sarah wasn’t there.”

  “She lied?”

  “Yes, Jack, she lied. That’s what teenage girls do.”

  “Christ,” Jack said. “I better get my phone from the car. Let them know they can call the search off. They’re going to think…”

  “I don’t care what they think! I’m just glad she’s okay, and she’s coming home.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m glad she’s okay, too.”

  “Look, Jack, I think you need to move out for a while. I don’t think Sarah is adjusting well to having you here.”

  “Right.”