Gareth and Dave had left a couple of hours previously, taking Philip’s laptop with them but leaving hers behind. Dave had said that he had everything he needed from it, but that he needed Philip’s actual computer to run some tests on it. Annette hadn’t been sure if he was bullshitting her or not, but it didn’t matter, anyway. She didn’t want Philip’s laptop, or indeed anything of his, still in the house.
Annette had sat down behind her laptop after they had gone and changed the password on her Gmail account. She’d overheard Dave and Gareth talking about it earlier before she had made them both promise that whatever software they had installed on her laptop was gone. They’d both seemed sincere enough in their promises that it had, and there was nothing else Annette could do but trust them.
She had been about to navigate away from her Gmail account when her computer pinged with a new e-mail. Her stomach dropped when she recognised the Protonmail address, but she had opened it, anyway.
Mrs McGuire.
I told you to text me, but you didn’t. How can we negotiate if you don’t even get in touch? It doesn’t matter anyway—your opportunity to negotiate has now expired. I required £20,000 to be wired to an account, the details of which I will give you via text. Note the new number below. If you don’t do this, then the attached video and all the others like it will find their way into the public domain.
You have 48 hours to raise the funds or I go public.
R.
The note was followed by another phone number with the same country code as the previous one, but a different string of digits after it. There was also an attachment. An MPEG movie file. Annette’s finger trembled over the trackpad button for a few seconds before she tapped it.
When the movie player on her laptop opened, it took Annette a few seconds to work out what, and who, was on the screen. She clapped her hand to her mouth as her diaphragm contracted, and felt the vomit rising into her mouth as she leapt to her feet to run to the bathroom, the desperate screaming on the soundtrack in her ears as she did so.
Annette returned to the bathroom to clean her teeth, glancing warily at the laptop as she walked past it. That poor child. That poor, poor child. When she had finished in the bathroom, she returned to the lounge and opened the screen, closing down the movie player. She couldn’t help but look at the frozen face of Philip as she did so. He was leering at the camera, having finished what he was doing, and it was all she could do not to punch the screen. Annette deleted the e-mail, emptied the trash, and closed the laptop again before sitting back in her chair to think.
She should go to the police. She absolutely should go to the police with the laptop. None of this was her fault. She’d had no idea what Philip was up to. Surely they would understand that? And what about the poor children? Maybe the police could protect them somehow?
Annette sighed, knowing that the chances were they couldn’t. She and Philip had last gone to Bali a couple of months before he had died. While she had been sitting by the pool reading, he obviously hadn’t been scuba diving. Or if he had, not for long. She remembered one night during the holiday when he had come back to their hotel room half-cut. Annette had been nervous, knowing that he would probably want to play one of his games, but he’d passed out on the sofa in their suite. Now she knew why. He was already spent, and had nothing left for her. If she had known then what she knew now, she would have happily taken whatever punishment he wanted to dish out as it would have saved someone else. Someone else’s daughter.
Twenty thousand pounds was a lot of money. But, Annette thought, she could raise it if she really had to. It would be a stretch, but it was doable. Between their joint savings account and what she had in her own account, she could cover it. It might mean a trip to the bank to arrange an overdraft or maybe even a small loan to get her to the end of the month, but it could be done.
If the truth about Philip came out, she would be a pariah. There was no doubt about that. She would lose her job, or at best get shifted sideways into a non-customer facing role until she gave up. Annette would probably have to move, leaving Norwich behind to start somewhere fresh. Maybe, she thought, that would be a better use of the money she did have saved? Perhaps she should sell the house and start afresh somewhere new, maybe even with a new identity? Annette was pretty sure that Gareth would be able to help her with that. Annette’s crucial problem was that she couldn’t do that within the next forty-eight hours. And when the truth was out, then even her memory would be ruined. She would always be known as the wife of a paedophile who had run away.
If she ran, Annette would always be looking over her shoulder, waiting for someone to recognise her. That was no way to live. Neither of the options was particularly palatable, but she had to decide one way or the other.
50
Gareth sighed, knowing that Laura was right.
“You must go to the police,” she had told him when she had recovered from the shock of the news about Philip. “There is no other option.”
During the few minutes since she had said that, they had both sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
“That’s got to be Annette’s decision,” Gareth said. “It’s not for me to decide something like that.”
“She’s your sister,” Laura countered. “You’ll have to persuade her.” She gestured at the laptop on the desk between them. “They should be looking at that, not you and Dave. You could be completely messing up their investigation by digging around in there.”
“To be honest, Laura,” Gareth said, “I think Dave will find more than they will in there. I’d put my money on him rather than the Old Bill.”
“You could be right, but it doesn’t matter. You have to persuade her to speak to them.”
“I’ll try.” He looked at her. Laura’s forehead was creased into a sharp frown as she looked at the laptop. “Okay?” She glanced up at him, and her frown eased.
“Okay,” she replied with a wan smile.
“You might need to help me, though.”
“I don’t really know her, Gareth. I’ve only spoken to her a couple of times.”
“She likes you though. She trusts you.”
Laura got to her feet and crossed to where Gareth was sitting. She stood behind him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and nestled her face into his neck. Gareth leaned back into her, enjoying the closeness before turning and kissing her on the cheek. He could smell a faint trace of shampoo in her hair.
“What a bloody mess this all is,” he mumbled. “Why can’t life be simple, just for a little while?” Laura used her hand to turn his face toward her so she could kiss him properly. When they parted, she replied.
“Because then it would be boring, Gareth.”
“I could do boring for a bit.” He smiled at her. “Couldn’t you?”
“To be honest, Gareth,” Laura replied, “up until a few days ago, my life was pretty boring.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” he said, his smile broadening. Gareth got to his feet and pulled Laura toward him. He was just about to kiss her again when his phone started vibrating on the desk.
“Saved by the bell,” Laura said with a smirk as they both looked at the phone.
“I was just about to suggest that we christen my desk.”
“Not with those windows, we’re not,” she replied. “I’m not into exhibitionism. Are you going to answer that?”
Gareth picked up the phone and stabbed at the screen.
“Hi Annette,” he said. “What’s up?” He listened to his sister for a moment before ending the call.
“Everything okay?” Laura asked.
“The police are going back round to speak to her.”
“Again?”
“Yeah, she said that she didn’t want to speak to them.”
“What did they say?”
“They said she could either speak to them in her house or they could do it at the station.”
“Oh,” Laura replied. “That doesn’t sound good.”<
br />
“No, it doesn’t. She’s asked me to go round there when they speak to her.”
“They?”
“It’ll be Malcolm and Kate.”
“I would say I’ll come too, but…” Laura’s voice tailed off and when Gareth looked at her, she looked away.
“You could, but it might be a bit, er, awkward.” He saw a brief smile flash across her face, but it disappeared just as quickly. “Have you spoken to her since?”
“No, and I don’t really want to.”
“How did she know, do you think?”
“Know what?”
“That you’re, er, you know.” Gareth looked at Laura, trying to sense whether or not she wanted to have this conversation. He wasn’t being nosy, but was genuinely curious. “If you don’t mind me asking?”
“No, I don’t mind,” Laura replied. “But I wouldn’t have thought it was something that you’d want to talk about.”
“It’s part of who you are, Laura,” Gareth said. “That’s why I’m interested.” She stared at him for a few seconds, and he could see that she was considering what to say.
“We went for a drink in Costa one day after seeing Annette. Kate said that she wanted to apologise to me for being frosty.” Laura laughed briefly. “When we were there, she said that when she’d asked me for a drink, she was thinking somewhere else rather than Costa.”
“Right,” Gareth said, “like where?”
“Like Flaunt. I don’t suppose you’ve ever been there?”
Gareth grinned at her. He knew the club on the Prince of Wales Road, but hadn’t been inside. The enormous rainbow flag draped across the entrance told him he probably wasn’t its target market.
“No, I haven’t.”
“So, I told her I wasn’t gay, and she seemed really surprised. Started muttering about what a crap detective she was. Then we started talking about something else, like nothing had happened.” Laura sighed. “Until we met again in the club, by accident.”
Gareth slid his arms around her slim waist and pulled her toward him. He looked down at Laura and slid his fingers down her sides to the bottom of her ribcage, knowing that she was particularly sensitive there.
“Well, she might not be a very good detective,” Gareth said, enjoying the slight flush that his touch brought to her cheeks, “but she’s got excellent taste in women.”
“As have you, Gareth Dawson,” Laura replied, glancing over his shoulder. “I would say, sod it, let’s go for it on the desk like randy teenagers, but we can’t.”
“Why can’t we?” Gareth asked, pulling her slightly closer to him. “I’m the boss. I can do whatever I want in my own office.”
“Because Dave’s watching through the window.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Really?”
“He’s standing by my car, pretending not to.”
“He must have forgotten something. We could put on a show for him?”
“The poor boy would never be the same again. Now put me down and let the lad in.”
“He might learn something?”
“I doubt that very much indeed,” Laura laughed, placing her palms on his chest and pushing him away. “I was actually going to ask him to have a word with you. Give you a few pointers.”
Gareth chuckled, crossing to the door of the office and opening the door.
“Dave?” he called out. “Stop staring at your shoes and get over here.”
51
Malcolm rapped on the door three times with his knuckles before pressing the doorbell. He took a step back and turned to look at Kate who was standing next to him.
“All set?” he whispered. Kate didn’t reply, but just nodded her head.
They had spent about an hour earlier that day going over their game plan. After his conversation with Jon Brandon in the Green Dragon, Malcolm had rethought his strategy. If the interview today went how he thought it would, then this would be their last visit to Annette McGuire. But at the same time, he was quite prepared to adjust on the fly if between them, he and Kate thought there was any merit in pursuing it further.
“Mrs McGuire?” Malcolm said as the door opened. “Good afternoon.”
“Hello,” Annette replied in a small voice. Over her shoulder, hovering by the door to her lounge, was Gareth. He raised a hand in greeting, but neither Malcolm nor Kate responded. “Come on in.”
Malcolm quickly surveyed the lounge as he walked in. Kate had been right. There were no photographs at all in the room, which was unusual.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us today, Mrs McGuire,” Malcolm said a few moments later when they were all seated.
“I didn’t think I had much choice,” she replied with a frosty glare at him. “It was here or the station is what you said.”
“Listen, Mrs McGuire. Annette,” Malcolm said in a soft tone. “Is it okay if I call you Annette?” She nodded her head in reply. “I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot here. I think perhaps that I was wrong to say that on the phone, and I owe you an apology.” He and Kate had discussed this in depth. In Kate’s opinion, they were far more likely to get something out of her if they went in gently, so even though he didn’t like it, Malcolm had agreed to dial things back.
“Thank you for apologising,” Annette replied. She looked nervous and had both hands clasped in her lap. “So, why are you here?”
“Annette, Philip’s name cropped up in the margins of an investigation that was being undertaken by the National Crime Agency shortly before he died,” Kate explained, taking over from Malcolm as they had agreed.
“What sort of investigation?”
“I’m afraid we can’t divulge the exact nature of the investigation as it’s still ongoing.” Malcolm watched Gareth carefully out of the corner of his eye and saw him cross his arms, a resigned expression on his face. He knew something. But the question was, what? “Operational security, you understand?”
“Not really,” Annette said. “Were you going to arrest him, then?”
“No,” Kate replied. “As I said, his name cropped up in the margins while the NCA were looking at something else.”
“But you would have looked at him closer if he wasn’t dead?” Gareth spoke before Annette could respond to the question.
“Yes, Gareth,” Malcolm said, looking at the other man. This had also been agreed prior to the interview; he would speak to Gareth, and Kate would speak to Annette.
“And now you’re wondering if his death had something to do with him cropping up on the NCA’s radar?” Gareth asked.
“Gareth, I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” Malcolm replied. “But I can confirm that the NCA has now closed down any further enquiries into Philip, and we’re not treating his death as suspicious. Unexplained, yes, but not suspicious.”
“So why are you here?” Annette asked.
“Part of the investigation looked at Philip’s financial records. He had a joint account that you were a co-signatory of, and there were some dubious transactions on it.”
“You’ve been looking at our bank accounts?” Annette said, her voice stronger than it had been. She turned to Gareth. “Are they allowed to do that?”
“Yep, they will be.” He glanced at Kate. “I’ll check with Laura the next time I see her, but I’m pretty sure they are.”
Malcolm glanced across at Kate. It could have been his imagination, but he thought Kate might have flinched at the mention of the lawyer’s name.
“But I never used that account,” Annette said, almost pleading with them. “He wouldn’t even let me have a card for it.”
“We know, Annette,” Kate said reassuringly. “We could see that in the records.”
“He made me pay my wages into it and then gave me a pitiful allowance.”
“Yes, we saw that too.”
“So what are these dubious transactions then?” Annette asked, wringing her hands in her lap.
Malcolm looked at Kate, whose eyes were fixed on his. She raised her
eyebrows almost imperceptibly, asking for permission to proceed. He nodded his head at her.
“We think he was being blackmailed.”
Annette flinched as if she had just been struck, and exchanged a look with Gareth. When she turned back to face Malcolm and Kate, her mouth had formed an almost perfect O shape.
“Seriously?” she whispered, her eyes flitting between Malcolm’s and Kate’s. Malcolm sat back in his chair a couple of inches to signal to Kate that she should proceed. This was the crucial part of the interview. If Annette mentioned the possibility of Philip being a paedophile, then it would change on its axis. If she didn’t, then they would probably be walking out of her house and never coming back.
“Now Annette,” Kate said softly, “if that is the case, then the obvious question is why.”
“Well, you’re the police, why don’t you bloody well find out?”
Gareth leaned forward and put a hand on Annette’s forearm.
“Annette,” he said, “hush for a second.” Gareth turned his attention to Malcolm, directing his next question at him. “Malcolm, you must be able to tell us more than that?”
“There’s not much more that I can tell you, Gareth,” Malcolm replied. If Kate was offended by being cut out of the conversation, she didn’t show it. “About the only thing I can tell you is that we think it’s someone in Indonesia. That’s where the account is that the suspect payments were being made to.”
“We went there on holiday earlier this year,” Annette said. “Philip had been there before, said the diving was fantastic.”
“But you didn’t go diving with him when you went?” Kate asked.
“No, I stayed by the pool while he went off.”
“So you don’t know for certain that he actually went diving?” Kate leaned forward, lowering her voice a fraction. “He could have been doing anything?” Malcolm stiffened in his chair. Kate was sailing quite close to the wind.
Gareth Dawson Series Box Set Page 81