Deadly Motive

by DS Butler

  Greg nodded at each of them in turn and opened the door wider so they could enter.

  The room they entered was tidy, but very small. There was a two-seater sofa that Greg gestured for them to sit on. He and Ruby pulled out the two hard-backed chairs by the table.

  “What has happened to my brother?” Greg asked.

  Mackinnon leaned forward “He was taken to a police station in London where he is answering questions about the death of John Weston.”

  Greg turned towards Ruby. “What happened?”

  “I told you on the phone. It’s because of the emails he sent.”

  Greg stood and pulled his mobile phone from the front pocket of his jeans. It slipped from his grasp and landed under the table.

  Charlotte reached for it at the same time as Greg.

  “I’ve got it!” Greg snapped.

  Charlotte recoiled as if she’d been hit. There was no missing the fury in Greg’s voice.

  “I need to call my mother,” he said, still glaring at Charlotte.

  Ruby put her hand on Greg’s arm. “You should wait until later.”

  Greg sat back down, shaking his head. His face was thinner than Gus’, giving him a haunted look. He looked at Mackinnon “What do you want from me?”

  Mackinnon’s gaze flickered from Charlotte to Greg. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  Greg folded his arms. “I’m sure you would.”

  Mackinnon shifted forward on the sofa. “Greg, if your brother didn’t kill John Weston…”

  “Of course he didn’t,” Greg said.

  “I’m afraid we need to prove that,” Mackinnon said.

  “How do I know you are not planning to pin the blame on me?”

  “If you haven’t done anything wrong, you don’t have anything to worry about,” Mackinnon said.

  “Gus hasn’t done anything wrong and I bet he is feeling pretty worried right now,” Greg said.

  “Actually, Greg, Gus did do something wrong,” Charlotte said.

  Greg turned sharply to face Charlotte. “What?”

  Charlotte flinched. “He sent a number of emails to John Weston, threatening emails.”

  Mackinnon pulled the emails from the folder he held under the crook of his arm and handed them to Greg.

  Greg reached for them, and Mackinnon saw his hand tremble slightly. As Greg read the emails, his pinched expression intensified. He put them on the floor and rubbed his eyes furiously.

  Greg stood up.

  He was tall. He balled his fists at his side and kicked the chair he’d been sitting on, sending it crashing into the wall.

  Mackinnon swallowed the lump in his throat. He could sense Charlotte watching him. He began to regret involving Charlotte in this visit. How would he explain this to Brookbank if the situation got out of hand?

  Mackinnon glanced at Ruby. She kept her eyes fixed on the sheets of printed emails on the floor.

  Greg picked up the emails and held them right up to Ruby’s face. She flinched.

  Mackinnon stepped forward to intervene, trying to keep his face neutral and body language non-aggressive. He needn’t have worried. Greg didn’t so much as glance his way.

  “Did you see the dates?” Greg crumpled the paper in his fist.

  Ruby looked up at him; Tears ran down her cheeks.

  Greg picked up his overturned chair and sat back down next to Ruby. He put his head close to hers. “I’m sorry.”

  Mackinnon’s heart rate slowed. His legs felt wobbly as he sat back on the sofa. He looked at Charlotte’s pale face and knew she shared the sentiment.

  “The dates, Ruby. This one...” Greg pointed to the earliest of the emails. “...This was sent the day after I was diagnosed.”

  Greg turned to face Mackinnon. “They are just his way of venting.” He clutched the crumpled email. “Gus would never hurt anyone.” He looked down at the email in his lap.

  “How about you, Greg? You must have hated John Weston,” Mackinnon said, earning a glare from Ruby.

  Greg’s head snapped up. “I knew it. You’re trying to pin it on me.”

  “No, Greg, we are just trying to understand.” Mackinnon knew he’d chosen the wrong word as soon as it left his mouth.

  “Well, you can’t understand, can you?”

  “I mean we are trying to understand. What were your feelings towards John Weston?”

  Greg shrugged. “He didn’t bother me too much, I suppose.”

  “You didn’t feel angry with him for treating your father like that?”

  Greg paused for a moment. His hands were shaking. He put his hands on the on the seat, tucked them under his knees. “Do you know the worst thing? I can’t remember Dad when he wasn’t sick, not really. Mum has photos of the three of us smiling together. Gus says he can remember, but I can’t.”

  Greg rubbed his eyes. “I mean, most people would think John was out of order, but I understood. He didn’t want the disease to rob him of the memories of his friend. He didn’t want all the bad memories to push out the good ones.”

  “Doesn’t it make you angry that he just walked away?” Charlotte asked.

  Greg looked at her. “No, I think I would do the same thing, if I could.”

  89

  On the day of the symposium, Mackinnon woke up in the Woodstock Road Bed and Breakfast feeling terrible.

  He hadn’t slept last night, despite drinking brandy, which normally knocked him out. Instead, he’d let things run over and over in his mind until the alarm eventually went off.

  Following DCI Brookbank’s insistence, he was still off the investigation. Brookbank was right. After receiving the note, he had been put in a compromising position, and visiting Greg only made things worse. Brookbank advised him to take a few days leave.

  Collins and Charlotte had both called him a few times, asking how he was and updating him on the investigation, unofficially. He knew he should follow Brookbank’s advice and distance himself from all aspects of the case, but he couldn’t stop himself asking questions and almost begging them to keep in touch.

  Chloe ignored all his calls, but Katy had called him twice. The first time she used needing help with her maths homework as an excuse. The second time she didn’t use an excuse.

  Katy told him Sarah was still at home, but she was arguing with Chloe all the time.

  Mackinnon’s mobile phone beeped with a message. He scooped it up and read the text from Charlotte, which told him she would be attending the symposium today. He thought it over. Should he go? The sensible answer was no. He should stay away, return to work on Monday and try to get some normality back into his life.

  He went downstairs for breakfast but didn’t have an appetite. He stared at the wall as the fried breakfast congealed on the plate in front of him, and tried to convince himself to stay away from the symposium.

  He wasn’t very convincing. He sent a text message to Charlotte, telling her he’d see her there.

  He arrived at the symposium late. The journey from the bed and breakfast to the university had taken longer than he expected. He signed in at the Chemistry Research Laboratory’s reception desk, but he didn’t have to explain why he was there. The receptionist recognized him from earlier visits and stuck a white visitor’s badge on his jacket.

  Brookbank would not be happy if he found out Mackinnon had come here today, but he hadn’t forbidden Mackinnon to come in so many words, and hopefully, he would never find out.

  The glass-walled atrium was full of people. Mackinnon scanned the room for an empty seat, but it was packed. Deciding it was best to keep out of the way, he wedged himself in a corner at the front of the room, near the exit to the chemical biology labs.

  There wouldn’t be many people using the doors while the talks were underway. It looked like the whole department was crammed into the atrium.

  Each presentation took roughly twenty minutes. Some were jazzy affairs and had icons bouncing all over the screen, while others were simple, black text printed on a wh
ite background.

  A couple of the students were great public speakers and even managed to hold Mackinnon’s attention – at least for a couple of seconds.

  During the third talk, Mackinnon noticed Charlotte in the sixth row back. When she spotted Mackinnon, she smiled. She actually seemed to be enjoying it. He didn’t see her yawn once.

  He guessed Wayne hadn’t told her about Mackinnon’s visit, otherwise he would have heard about it by now.

  Mackinnon soon discovered most students were not blessed with a talent for public speaking. They mumbled through their presentations, eyes fixed on their feet or their computers, anything but the audience.

  Ruby was in the first session of speakers. Mackinnon was no expert, but he thought she did pretty well. Despite her obvious nerves, she kept her voice steady and looked up as she addressed the audience.

  After two hours of standing wedged into the corner, Mackinnon’s legs ached. He decided to skip the next session. Alex was in the third and final session; he would go back for that.

  While the second session of talks took place inside, Mackinnon grabbed a coffee from the vending machine near the entrance and drank it outside.

  He sat on a low brick wall, outside in the quad, and watched a group of undergraduate students enter the department. They were probably only a year or so older than Sarah.

  Sarah should have been going to university next year. He wondered if she still would.

  He took a sip of the bitter coffee, thinking about the email he hadn’t sent. Would he have done things differently if she’d been his own daughter? If he’d known her for longer? If he’d even liked her?

  The last thought sent acid-laced guilt burning into his chest. He threw the rest of the coffee away and reached into his pocket for another Rennie.

  Despite the fresh air, Mackinnon struggled to keep his eyes open for the final session. Alex’s presentation was last and Mackinnon struggled to suppress his yawns.

  Alex was not a confident public speaker and it was clear he hated every second of it. When he finished, Alex got the loudest applause of the day. Mackinnon wasn’t sure if it was because the audience admired his gumption or were just relieved he had stopped talking.

  After the applause died down, Mackinnon spotted Linda Gilmore at the wine table. He was surprised to see her at work today. Collins told him she’d been down to Wood Street, protesting Gus’ innocence and demanding answers.

  She was mopping up a spill of red wine with some blue paper towels. He walked over and picked up a glass.

  “Hello,” Mackinnon said.

  Her lips pursed in disapproval, she gave him a frosty look and half-turned her back on him. He thought she might walk off. Refuse to talk to the man she felt was responsible for locking up one of her sons. She walked to a rubbish bin at the corner of the table and threw away the bunch of stained paper towels.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I wouldn’t have thought something like this would be of interest to you.”

  Mackinnon shrugged. “I thought it might be interesting.”

  He watched as she opened another bottle of red and filled another four glasses. Her hands shook a little, but she didn’t spill any wine.

  She offered him a glass of wine, and he carried it across to his familiar position at the corner of the room. Charlotte was deep in conversation with an academic looking woman, who wore baggy tights that weren’t quite skin colour. Probably one of the lecturers.

  Mackinnon was happy with his hiding place. It suited him to be inconspicuous. But apparently, he’d been over-confident in his camouflage as Ruby spotted him and headed in his direction, carrying her glass of wine at a perilous angle.

  It was clearly not her first glass.

  “Hello, did you come especially to hear our talks?” Ruby asked. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Mackinnon said.

  Ruby grinned. “I am so glad it’s over.” She flexed her shoulders as if she were trying to shake out the tension. “Alex is, too. Did you see him? I think they should give out prizes just to award the guts it takes to get up there in front of everyone.”

  Mackinnon nodded. “Some of the speakers did look like they would prefer to be somewhere else.”

  “Is there any news on Gus?” Ruby asked.

  Mackinnon shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

  “It’s all so unfair, what will happen to him?” Ruby blinked. Her eyelashes were wet.

  Don’t cry, Mackinnon thought. I’m not good when women cry.

  “I’m not the best person to ask, to be honest.” Mackinnon fumbled in his pockets for Rennies; the red wine was not good for heartburn. He popped one into his mouth.

  “You eat those things like sweets,” Ruby said.

  “I wouldn’t eat this many sweets because it would be bad for me.”

  The band of people around them began to thin out as people headed back to their seats.

  “Looks like it’s prize time; better get back to our seats. Where are you sitting?” Ruby asked.

  “Oh, I’ve got a special spot back there,” Mackinnon pointed back to the doorway. “I’d better get back there, I don’t want to miss Alex’s prize for the most gutsy speech.”

  90

  Everyone had taken their drinks back to their seats. The clinking of glasses and boisterous voices gave the atrium a party atmosphere.

  Mackinnon picked up another glass of wine as he headed back to the doorway. He would walk back to the B&B, so an extra glass couldn’t hurt.

  Sir Jim stood at the front of the room, beaming. His cheeks had a ruddy tinge, brought out by the wine, no doubt. There was a short burst of applause. Mackinnon didn’t join in. He didn’t want to spill his wine.

  “Greetings, students, staff and visitors,” Sir Jim said, smoothing his long, black hair back from his face.

  It was amazing how quickly Sir Jim’s expression could change from a beaming smile to a sneer. Mackinnon couldn’t be sure, but he thought Sir Jim looked at Charlotte when he said the word “visitors.” He was sure he hadn’t been spotted. Either that or he was not important enough to justify a sneer.

  “Today we have heard from our third year DPhil students, presenting their truly impressive research work. In accordance with our longstanding tradition, the time has come to award prizes to the most outstanding candidates. Choosing the winners has been a difficult task. The presentations have met an exceptionally high standard and this year has undoubtedly been the best year so far.”

  Mackinnon took a sip of his wine. Bet he says that every year, he thought.

  “So, without further ado, I would like to present the prize from Molecular Dimensions for the most outstanding presentation in the field of X-ray crystallography.” Sir Jim paused and beamed at the audience, resembling a cheesy chat show host.

  He held up the gold envelope with a flourish, as if he were hosting the Oscars. He opened it and then stopped.

  Mackinnon shifted his weight to his other leg. Sir Jim paused for dramatic effect. The man should have been on the stage.

  Sir Jim’s face adopted a cartoon-like expression of surprise. His mouth formed a perfect O.

  For goodness sake, thought Mackinnon. They had only just sat through the talks. Sir Jim can’t have forgotten whom he’d chosen already.

  “Ruby Wei!” Sir Jim nodded at Ruby and started clapping.

  Now he felt bad. Mackinnon leaned down and put his wine glass on the floor, so he could join in the applause.

  Ruby had risen from her seat, cheeks even pinker now, and was making her way to the front, apologizing as she tripped over feet. After making it through the obstacle course, she held out her hand for the prize envelope.

  Mackinnon would put money on the prize being a book token, but still, a prize was a prize.

  She took the envelope from Sir Jim and the smile left her face. Eyes wide, she turned to Charlotte who was sitting in the sixth row.

>   Mackinnon stepped forward. Something was wrong.

  He glanced to Charlotte, but he couldn’t see her face. Looking back towards Ruby, he saw she was looking at her hands, turning them over, saying something to Sir Jim. Her voice was too quiet to hear, but Mackinnon read her lips.

  She said, “Powder.”

  91

  Charlotte felt a jolt run though her body when she heard Ruby say powder. She moved forward, knocking over two chairs and bashing into an unobservant student who hadn’t heeded her shout to get out of the way.

  She grabbed Ruby and yanked on Sir Jim’s arm. “Move! Come with me now.”

  She bundled them towards the door, avoiding people as best as she could. “Get out of the way!” Their dumb, blank faces stared back at her.

  She kept pushing them, steadying Ruby as she stumbled. She shoved them through the double swing doors and down the corridor towards a containment lab.

  “Charlotte!” Mackinnon shouted.

  Charlotte turned to see Mackinnon at the swing doors, heading towards them.

  “Stay there. Just stay there and keep people away,” Charlotte said. “There’s some kind of white powder. We’ll go to the containment lab. Get in touch with Jameson from emergency response.”

  “I’ll call it in.” Mackinnon fumbled for his phone.

  *

  Inside the containment lab, Charlotte released Ruby and Sir Jim. She felt she should say something reassuring, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Ruby strode across the room and flung the envelope in the fume hood. She began to lift up her jumper.

  “Wait. Don’t take it off over your head,” Charlotte said. “We need to decontaminate ourselves properly.” She looked around at the equipment on the white-topped lab benches. “We’re going to need scissors, gloves, and bags to put the clothes in.”

  Ruby froze with her jumper halfway up her torso. She let it drop and moved to the closest lab bench, picking up a box of blue latex gloves and then searching for anything else they might need.

  “We’ll also need buckets, if you can find them, and fill them with soapy water.” Charlotte spotted some scissors, hanging on a rack above a lab bench, and took them over to Ruby.