The Curious Dispatch of Daniel Costello

by Chris McDonald

  ‘Daniel was a good friend of ours. He was due to be best man at the wedding. The police think that his death was accidental, but we believe it might’ve been something more sinister than that.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ she gasped. ‘How do you mean?’

  Adam held back a smile. Colin knew that old people loved a bit of gossip. What he’d just done was plonk a metaphorical pile of gold on her counter, just out of reach. All they needed to do now was let her know that they’d nudge it her way if she gave them something in exchange.

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ Colin continued. ‘You see, we’re following a few leads…’

  ‘I thought you said the police had drawn their conclusion already,’ she interrupted.

  ‘We’re not the police, we’re…’

  ‘…private investigators,’ Adam finished. ‘And we’d like to look at your CCTV cameras, if we could. We believe it could help us crack the case.’

  She studied the lads through the glass. She’d watched a lot of detective dramas over the years and these two young fellas, in their shorts and T-shirts, didn’t look much like real detectives. They usually wore suits. But then, nothing this exciting ever happened around these parts and they seemed like nice boys. If she could play a small part in solving a case, she’d do it.

  She looked out of the window to make sure no one was on the forecourt before summoning them around the counter and into the back room.

  The room was not very big and what little space there was, was taken up by excess stock. On a small desk, next to a door on the back wall, was a monitor. Black-and-white footage played on it in real time, judging by the date and time stamp in the bottom left-hand corner of the screen. A computer hummed steadily under the desk, the blue light around the power button casting some brightness into the otherwise gloomy room.

  ‘My son set this up after someone filled their tank and did a runner. I have no idea how to use it, but I’m sure you will. Your generation are much better at these things than us old fogies.’

  She left and reappeared a few minutes later, carrying two bottles of water.

  ‘For the workers,’ she said with a smile as she set the bottles on the table. She checked if they wanted anything else and when they declined, she left them to it.

  Adam hunkered down in front of the monitor and navigated through the menu with the mouse. He quickly found the file that would show them the footage they would need and loaded it up. They waited patiently while the antiquated machine worked, the computer whining loudly with the effort. Eventually, the screen changed.

  It was much darker than the footage they’d just seen on the screen, due to the action taking place at night and there being no streetlights in the vicinity.

  The footage began at 10 p.m.

  Adam checked his notes. The burner phone’s battery had long since died but luckily Adam had written the details of the message on a piece of paper. The message informing Danny that his visitor had arrived had been received at 12:51 a.m., so Adam fast forwarded to 12:40 a.m.

  They watched the unchanging blackness on the screen for a while, until, at 12:48 a.m., a pair of headlights passed by and headed up the road towards the hotel. It passed too quickly to get any details and even when Adam rewound the footage and paused it, the footage was too distorted to make out the make or model.

  So far, so unhelpful. Adam felt his heart sink at the thought of getting so close to an answer, only for it to evaporate when it was within grabbing distance.

  They waited with bated breath for the car’s return.

  At 12:55 a.m., it came.

  This time, lady luck was on their side.

  Rather than pass by at speed, it pulled into the forecourt, where it idled for a minute, thick smoke pouring out of its wide exhaust. Adam pressed pause.

  The graininess of the footage meant that they could not see the driver and the make and model of the car still eluded them, though Adam was sure that that information would be discernible to a genuine petrolhead. Sadly, neither of them were that bothered by cars.

  One detail that could be seen was very useful indeed.

  The next little breadcrumb of the case was laid before them. Adam scribbled down the details of the number plate that was lit up for them like a neon sign.

  Now, all they had to do was figure out who the car belonged to.

  With some progress made, Adam unscrewed the top of his water and glugged half the bottle, not realising just how thirsty he was. He set the bottle down again and watched the screen.

  They let the footage run for a few more minutes, just in case. While they watched the blackness on the screen, they discussed their next steps.

  Pins and needles began to prickle in Adam’s legs and as he attempted to change his position, he knocked the bottle of water over, tipping it onto the computer’s keyboard.

  ‘You dickhead,’ whispered Colin, looking round the stockroom for anything they could use to mop up the spillage. He grabbed an old cloth from the sink and dabbed at the keys, hoping to soak up the moisture before it seeped into the circuitry.

  Happy that no lasting damage had been done, they turned their attention back to the screen. In the watery mayhem, one of them had pressed a button that made the footage move in double time. When they looked back, the time stamp showed that the footage had moved forward by nearly an hour.

  As Adam moved the mouse to close the footage, Colin grabbed his wrist. On the screen, moving slowly from the direction of the hotel, was another car without its lights on. It was easy to tell that this was not the same car, due to the shorter body.

  ‘What a stroke of luck,’ Adam said, staring with disbelief at the screen as the car crept down the road and out of sight.

  ‘So, whoever was in the first car delivered the money to Danny and whoever was in the second car took it back by lethal force. Do you reckon that’s our killer?’ Colin asked.

  ‘I’m certain of it.’

  16

  THE DINNER

  The stately home reminded Adam of a game of Cluedo. Whichever door you opened, there was some grandiose room behind it.

  The dining room was no different.

  A long table filled the middle of the large room, the antique oak so polished you could almost see yourself in it. Heavy silver cutlery flanked intricately designed plates that looked like they cost more than Adam’s whole kitchen at home. An ornate chandelier bathed the room in light.

  Most of the places were already taken, so Adam took a seat between Sam and Emily’s father, Trevor. He nodded a greeting at the rest of the table, not wanting to interrupt conversations already in full flow.

  Sam, Ross and their parents were discussing something wedding related while Emily and her bridesmaids talked about the songs they hoped the band would play tomorrow night. Emily’s parents were running their fingers up and down a drinks menu, choosing which wines to buy for the impending meal.

  Adam snuck a look at the prices and gulped. He sincerely hoped that the bill was on the Campbell family!

  Sitting silently on the other side of the table was Mike, Emily’s brother. His shirt was so fitted around his huge arms that Adam worried the blood would reach an impasse at his biceps and fail to flow to his fingers. His eyes were downcast towards the table, but his demeanour suggested he wasn’t in the mood for family time. Perhaps the stress of the weekend was getting to him.

  Adam wished Colin could have come, but he’d been told that the meal was strictly for the wedding party.

  A waiter approached the besuited Trevor, who ordered enough bottles of wine to get an army drunk. The waiter nodded his head sagely, approving of the choices as a sommelier would, before backing slowly out of the room towards the kitchens.

  Trevor adjusted his position in his seat, turning to look at Adam with all the grace of a ship’s turning circle. His huge buttocks hung over the side of the seat and Adam could smell the perspiration seeping through his heavy suit jacket.

  ‘How are you, son?’ he
asked.

  Adam and Trevor engaged in idle chit-chat for a while, before the first course arrived. Silence fell as spoons were plucked from the table and soup was ladled into mouths. Adam took great care not to spill any on his white shirt.

  When empty bowls had been collected, Emily’s mother, Cynthia, got to her feet. She tapped the stem of her wine glass with a fork, bringing silence to the room once more.

  ‘The Campbell and the McMullan families would just like to say thank you to you all for being here tonight. Weddings are stressful at the best of times, but when you consider what has happened this weekend… well…’ she trailed off.

  Trevor took over, hoisting his considerable frame from his seat with a loud grunt.

  ‘What my wife is trying to say, is thank you to the young ones. You’ve looked after Sam and Emily under difficult circumstances, not just this weekend but in the lead up to the wedding too.’

  He glanced at the empty chair at the head of the table.

  ‘Daniel Costello was a good boy, and we were shocked and saddened by what has happened to him. I’ve known his father for many years. Sam, my future son-in-law, has lost his best man and a friend, as have many of you. Please, let’s raise a glass in his memory.’

  Everyone stood with arms extended towards the vacant chair and clinked their glasses.

  The remainder of the meal passed without incident. Adam held a hand over his glass every time an offer of more wine was made. He was sure he’d never have another chance to sample a £50 bottle again, but he was determined to remain sober.

  Whoever murdered Danny was going to be brought to justice tonight, he was sure of it, and for that he needed a clear head.

  After the meal, the party made their way into the barroom, which was decorated in much the same manner as last night. Beige pop music was playing, though the dancefloor was empty. It felt like déjà vu to Adam, who, for a minute, had the ridiculous notion that he had been given an opportunity to intervene with fate; to stop Danny’s life from ending in the way it had.

  He shook his head, keen not to let his imagination run away from him. He checked his watch. Night was drawing in fast and they still had so much to do. He clocked Colin by the bar, ordering a drink.

  ‘You best be keeping a clear head,’ Adam said, sidling up to his friend.

  A glass of water was passed across the bar at exactly that moment. Colin motioned to it much the same way as an assistant might highlight the star prize on a corny gameshow, before picking out the slice of lemon and throwing at Adam’s face. He watched with satisfaction as it bounced off his forehead.

  ‘We’ve got to leave it until people are slightly more drunk,’ Adam said, moving to a table with two seats.

  ‘What do we do until then?’ Colin asked, placing his pint glass on a coaster.

  ‘We watch.’

  An hour later, and the dancefloor was filled. Those who had arrived late to the party were well oiled, no doubt thanks to pre-drinks in bedrooms with the alcohol purchased earlier from the petrol station at the end of the road. The pop playlist had been replaced by a function band, who stormed through songs that would be repeated tomorrow night after the speeches – whipping the crowded dancefloor into a frenzy with genuine wedding classics.

  The finishing notes of Come On, Eileen rang out as the band downed their instruments and concluded their first set of the night, to much cheering from the appreciative horde.

  As the dancefloor emptied, Adam seized his chance. He walked up to the microphone and tapped it to make sure it was on. A couple of dull thuds sounded through the PA system. The singer looked over at what he assumed was a drunken karaoke singer, but Adam held up a pacifying finger.

  ‘A car with the number plate HFZ 4531 is blocking a staff member’s car. Who does it belong to?’

  This moment was not lost on Adam. Whoever held their hand up was admitting to owning the car that had stopped at the petrol station last night. The car that had just visited Danny to hand over money.

  Trevor’s hand shot up.

  Adam left the microphone behind and walked over to him as he was pushing himself out of his seat. His eyes were unfocused and his cheeks rosy – he was certainly in no condition to drive.

  ‘After all that wine at dinner, I’m not sure you’re fit to get behind the wheel,’ Adam smiled. ‘I’ll move it for you, Mr Campbell.’

  Trevor pushed the keys into Adam’s sweaty palm and patted him on the back with enough force to knock him forward a few steps.

  Shaking slightly, he made his way out of the bar. Colin was waiting at reception and the two of them walked outside into the crisp air, their eyes hovering over each number plate in search for the car they needed.

  Adam pressed a button on the keys, causing orange lights to blink in the encroaching darkness. They made their way to the expensive car and got in. It started with a faint purr, not like the spluttering his own rusty Clio produced upon coming to life.

  He moved the car from its current position to a spot around the corner, out of sight of the windows from the bar. Here, out of the way of prying eyes, they had time to search for what they suspected might be hidden.

  Adam opened the glovebox, though it was neat and orderly. Definitely nothing hidden in there. He rifled through any compartment he could, coming up empty while Colin climbed into the back of the car. He ran his hand under the mats and between the seats, again coming away empty handed.

  Frustrated, he slapped the material covering the back of the passenger seat. His hand hit something solid. From the pocket, he pulled a plastic lunchbox and held it up to Adam, who stopped searching in order to appraise the find with his own eyes.

  ‘I assume it’s not food in there?’ he said.

  Colin ripped the plastic lid off, exposing another piece of the puzzle.

  Inside was a phone. A phone that looked almost identical to the one Danny had been using as a burner.

  Colin pocketed it.

  ‘Time to find out what role Mr Campbell had in this,’ he said as they exited the car.

  17

  THE BREAKTHROUGH

  Adam dropped the keys back to Trevor, keen to make everything appear as normal as possible. The father of the bride thanked him profusely and offered to buy him a drink several times before he managed to get away. The band were back on, tearing through a Bon Jovi mega mix, and Adam was able to slip out of the room undetected.

  While Adam was busy in the bar, Colin took it upon himself to partake in a little side mission. Instead of going back to their bedroom when he bid his friend goodbye, he carried on walking down the corridor towards the room Danny had previously occupied.

  His first visit to the room had been necessary. The second visit had been risky, and he’d almost been caught snooping around by the authorities. Going back for a third time was surely madness. But the beginnings of a plan had formed upon leaving Trevor’s car, and the plan was dependent on retrieving something from the stricken best man’s room.

  If he got caught, he could just act drunk and plead ignorance. He’d simply opened the door to the wrong room. And if anything, it was the staff’s fault for leaving the door unlocked in the first place.

  He crept down the corridor slowly, praying that the door had indeed been left unlocked by the staff who had other things on their minds. When he reached his destination, he cast a glance around before trying the handle. It seemed someone had been listening to his hasty prayer…

  Adam and Colin arrived back at the room at roughly the same time. Adam shot his friend a quizzical look, though Colin shook his head.

  Not here.

  Adam opened the door to their bedroom and they entered, keen to uncover whatever evidence was stored on the phone.

  Colin could feel the surge of adrenaline as the phone came slowly to life; the dim screen displaying a welcome message. He could see his friend’s hand was shaking.

  Adam was nervous. If Trevor was involved in this, it would be a major scandal on the North Coast. His business
was worth more money than Adam could imagine, and it would be Adam’s name forever attached to bringing it down. Also, the guy was the size of a house and built like a brick…

  ‘Shall we see what it says?’ Colin asked, noticing Adam’s sudden reticence.

  Adam shook himself from the image of Trevor standing over him with the veins bulging in his slab of a forehead. The call list was empty, as expected. Presumably, this phone was the only means of communication between Danny and Trevor. Danny would never have had the balls to blackmail someone by talking on the phone to them. Instead, he’d have relied on text messages – it was so much easier to say cowardly things with written words.

  The presumption turned out to be correct.

  Trevor was not as technologically savvy as Danny and had not thought to delete any of the messages he’d received or sent. Adam and Colin spent ten minutes taking in every detail of the correspondence, looking on with disbelieving eyes.

  ‘Jesus,’ Adam said, setting the phone down and letting the information permeate. Colin sat back in his chair and did the same. Neither spoke for a few minutes.

  ‘So,’ Colin said, eventually. ‘Danny saw Sam and some random girl kiss on the stag do. He then got in contact with Mr Campbell to tell him that unless he paid Danny to keep the information to himself, he might accidently let that information slip to Emily who would be devastated.’

  ‘£50 to start with, which Trevor probably thought was a one-off payment and worth it to stop a load of hassle. No wonder Sam said things have been tense between Trevor and him – imagine your future father-in-law knew you’d been unfaithful and was paying to cover it up!’

  ‘So, he paid the money but then got another text from Danny a week later saying that he was feeling loose lipped and that he’d need another £50 to guarantee that his lips remained sealed. Then, no further correspondence until yesterday when he received another message asking for more.’