Leaning in comfortingly to give McCall a pep talk, Abbey used a soft tone. “You’re not useless. You’re alive.”
The duo of redheads scoffed ironically.
“With everything going on in our lives, that does seem like a liberty.”
From outside, the weather gradually worsened, and the neighbours struggled to even drive off the road without a fight against it. Their windscreen wipers were collapsing under the wind pressure.
“Tell you what always cheers people up,” Abbey suggested a solution, in the best way she knew how. “Cake. I’ll bake one for us today.”
“Our waistlines won't exactly thank you--” I muttered, preoccupied.
“But drowning my sorrows in cake sounds better than alcohol,” McCall politely encouraged Abbey’s form of hospitality, trying hard to be sociable and kind. “Thanks, Abbey. Really, thanks to both of you, for letting me stay.”
My phone buzzed with another notification, causing McCall to jolt in fright.
“Sorry. Can’t help but be a bit tetchy since last night. If they’ve tried to set me up, what will they do to Flynn?” she whispered. Typically, she was always concerned about other people, even when something terrible had happened to her.
“It’s fine.” I glanced attentively at the caller ID. “It’s DCI Reid. Give me two seconds.” I held the phone up to one ear. “Hello?”
“Cooper?” his hectic voice came through the line. It had been a while since I’d heard him utterly flummoxed. “We’ve texted you about twenty times, didn’t you get them?” There was a lot of noise coming from the background, at the station. Everyone sounded flustered.
“Just. I was talking things over with McCall. It sounds busy there. Has Cillian set off the fire alarms again? I told him last time--” Although my tone may have suggested otherwise, I was genuinely intrigued to see what all the fuss was about.
“No,” DCI Reid heckled. “It seems our criminals are especially desperate to cover their tracks. First. McCall, now this. We’ve got word from the hospital.”
The two redheaded women on the sofa blinked at me in wait.
“What’s happened at the hospital?” I wasn’t sure I necessarily longed to find out.
McCall in particular snapped out of her seat and patrolled the circumference of the living room. It was easy by my choice of jargon to distinguish what our phone conversation was based on.
“Flynn Jones was ready to be moved today,” DCI Reid’s voice cracked from the bad signal. “Only the nurses walked into his hospital room to find Flynn unresponsive. He’s dead.”
I think we found our answer to McCall’s question.
16
Plenty of staff at the hospital mosied around with glum expressions on their faces, complaining about their long shifts to each one another. Locals came into the building, their clothes dampened and swamped in freezing water from the raging storm. A layer of damp coated their lino flooring and we tried our hardest to stop from slipping with each step.
A stale, unwelcoming scent filled the air. I didn’t want to deliberate or visualise where it could have come from. The receptionist greeted everyone with a similar cheery smile, which was obviously plastered on and the corners held up with some form of glue.
“Can I help you with anything, sir?” she piped up.
“I’m looking for Flynn Jones. His body was moved to the morgue, or so I was told. DI Cooper, CID.” I scanned the reception area to catch sight of a police team anywhere, or the guard in the very minimum.
“Ah, we heard you’d be coming along.” She nodded and pointed efficiently in the right direction. “We just had your DCI asking the same question. He’ll be that way.”
“Cheers.” A huge sign pointed above our heads, which read ‘Morgue.’ “Ah.” For a detective, I’d sure missed the obvious. The receptionist let out a real chuckle as opposed to a false one.
Following the twisted corridors and depressing array of wards, queues and surges of people knocked into me in a rush. They had their own emergencies to think about, they probably didn’t really care about Flynn’s untimely death. The nurses were immune to all the hysteria, and they barely blinked an eyelid at the appearance of us.
In losing Flynn Jones, we’d lost the only remaining lead for the case. The criminals were desperately severing the ties between them and our investigation. He didn’t deserve this ending, whatever this meant.
Both he and McCall were running and weaving in my thoughts as the stairs reached the gloomy morgue where paint chipped along the walls and a few light bulbs had blown out. Then again, dead individuals didn’t need to see much.
A handmade sign was stuck to their front desk, held up precariously by blu-tac. Someone had halfheartedly scrawled, ‘Please be respectful and ring the bell’. DCI Reid’s vast, sizable body lent impatiently over the desk and tapped his shoe every couple of seconds.
I could tell he was itching for the company.
“Guv.” I half scared him out of his wits.
“Cooper, I didn’t hear you coming. I was thinking. Now you’re here I can ring the bell, as per their… instruction.” He dryly gestured towards the smudged writing.
Joining the Guv, we waited a while to be joined by a staff member that could help us. As I inquisitively peering around the claustrophobic corridor, I asked a few viable questions to get a grasp on what we’d be dealing with. I’d need some time to prepare if Flynn’s body was mauled or something of the like.
“When did you find out Flynn had died?”
“Roughly an hour ago. It’s foul play, Cooper. Flynn Jones was nowhere near critical. He was suffering from shock and a few stitches, that’s all.”
The shocks were coming fast and hard. The criminals had upped their tactics. That’s when a man dressed up in scrubs appeared at the end of the corridor.
“How? One of the nurses do it?” I hissed so they couldn’t hear.
“No, their alibis hold up. Anyone could’ve slipped in, especially when the guard went for a bathroom break. Seized the opportunity. We’ll see what this guy can tell us, figure out who could’ve been milling around.”
We scrutinized everything about the man coming down the corridor. His gait, expression, basically whatever we could tell about him without talking to him first. Meanwhile, a camera recorded us from the corner.
“What about CCTV?” I asked as I pointed it out subtly.
“Blind spot right on Flynn’s corridor,” DCI Reid fired back, ready with the responses. “We could see who headed that way, and who came out again over a short period of time. Anyone who’s here for murder wouldn’t hang around too long. Trouble is, there’s many people doing the same thing.” He had sweat patches staining his shirt from the stress of the situation.
“Typical,” I tutted. “It’s never that easy.”
DCI Reid grunted. “Plus, they could’ve disguised themselves as anything. Cleaners, nurses… they’re smart. No way they would have walked in plain sight, it’s too risky.”
“They’re not holding back anymore, are they? Even more blood on their hands. All the more reason to get the bastards behind bars where they belong,” I said with determination.
“Aye. Agreed. How’s McCall holding up?” DCI Reid checked in, running his tongue across his yellowed, smoke stained teeth. Years of cigarettes and cigars, plus dodgy office coffee did that to us. Since last night, barely anything had changed with regard to that side of proceedings.
The man in scrubs took his time, checking clipboards and changing gloves, as though we had all day to wait around.
“Not well. Especially not after this news. She’s now blaming herself for Flynn’s death, saying she should’ve never made contact with him, or made Flynn share as many details about the criminals as we got,” I shared, recalling McCall’s discussion mere hours beforehand.
DCI Reid stood up straight as the man finally approached. “I did try to warn her. Still, it’s nobody's fault but the people who murdered him. Tell McCall we’re sorting out th
e broken window, it’ll be repaired by next week. I’ve stationed twenty-four-hour surveillance there too, in case the criminals try something else. We’ll be ready and waiting.”
“Will do, Guv. She’ll be relieved to hear that.”
“CID, I presume?” The man in scrubs finally mosied over and hazarded a guess. “I can tell by the way you guys stand and the heavy discussion I overheard just then. It’s all sort of… intimidating on purpose, to frighten guys like me,” he joked in a likeable manner.
“That’s right.” DCI Reid sharply inhaled and reciprocated the firm handshake. “And you are?”
“Christopher. I’m the guy who cleaned Flynn Jones up. No badge, unfortunately,” he added with a slight Jamaican accent. The lilt sounded similar to a melody. “I was told you’d want to take a look at him.”
“Please,” we said in unison.
“Follow me,” Christopher confirmed, leading us through their narrow corridors. He didn’t wait, so we had to jog slightly to catch up. “It ain't quite as exciting as CID, but we’re pretty close.”
“Yeah, well, we’re not that exciting. Trust me,” I scoffed. “What do you think happened to Flynn?”
“It’s hard to tell so early on,” Christopher specified and adjusted the hat covering. “I’ll send more details over in a report via email. But from what I can tell so far, it was a sort of ethylene glycol ingested into his body.”
The explanation was frightening enough, before all the facts were even available. “Hang on,” I frowned, having heard this before. “Isn’t that the stuff used for antifreeze liquids in cars?”
“Yeah, it can be found practically anywhere. Garages or shops even. Someone had probably laced Flynn’s drinks with the lethal combination. It’s practically unnoticeable, tastes like sweeteners,” Christopher said heavily.
Brutal.
“So anyone could be a suspect. From the canteen staff, to the nurses and even the locals. It’s that easily accessible,” DCI Reid cursed.
Another thought came to mind. “How long would it have taken for the effects to kick in? Until the substance killed him?”
“A few hours. A day. It’s hard to tell. They could’ve given him small amounts little and often, for all I know so far.” Christopher snapped the elastic on his white, plastic gloves.
“I guess the real question is, how many coffees did Flynn have since arriving here?” I asked rhetorically. He’d been hospitalized long enough to drain Starbucks dry.
Christopher held the door open for us. “Plenty, it would appear. This solution is becoming more common for everyday homicides. It’s been popular in America for a while.”
DCI Reid spotted the body and array of work tools nearby. “I guess the ideas spreading. Hard to catch, lethal. An easy kill.”
“Precisely.” Christopher gently closed the door, giving us some privacy.
“We wondered why he was spluttering and whining a lot.” I had a sudden flashback to the state we found Flynn to be in upon our visits. “Did the nurses not notice anything unusual with him?”
“Not if they weren’t necessarily searching for it,” Christopher pondered. “He was in shock too, hence the whimpers you guys are mentioning.”
The sheet-covered body appeared ominous, especially under the circumstances. It bulged out in places, and Flynn’s nose was prominent, as well as his large, flat feet.
“So what actually is this substance?” I liked to know the science behind it as we three filtered out on either side of the body.
Christopher leaned on the metal part of the table, shadows cast onto his smooth skin. “Carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen, with toxic properties included in the overall effect.”
“I remember hearing and studying the use of this stuff. It had a lot of accidental exposures even as late as the nineties by various doctors.” DCI Reid stared in amazement at my subject knowledge. “I used to be a bit of an avid reader in my younger years,” I said modestly.
“You’re good,” Christopher complimented and winked as if we knew some kind of secret.
“He is,” DCI Reid agreed without envy. “So, can we see the body? It’s a matter of urgency.”
“You’re telling me. I’ve had police guards swarming around the place and journalists stopping me from going for a bathroom break. They’re lucky I know how to hold it all in. Don’t worry, I’ve been warned to stay quiet and avoid the reporters.”
Christopher’s explanation allowed me to heave a sigh of relief. The journalists were the last people who needed to know any details regarding Flynn’s mysterious murderer.
“Very lucky indeed,” I grimaced, preferring to forget about Christopher’s bathroom habits.
Christopher paused with both hands on the pale sheet. “Are you both ready?” A dire table full of instruments stood nearby, cleaned from any prior use.
“We’ve seen a lot of bodies. Mauled, stabbed, you name it.” I waited for Christopher to get on with the task.
“Whatever you say, Mr Cooper.” He shrugged, indifferent to my confirmations.
The sheet was eventually whipped off Flynn’s body, revealing well… Flynn. It was a hard concept to grasp that he was genuinely dead, for so much life seemed to curse throughout him. It wasn’t that long ago when we saw Flynn alive, albeit whimpering a lot. His skin cold to the touch and funny shaped mouth closed tightly, Flynn was the shadow of an innocent man. It was haunting.
“I tried to warn you. Typical Scots, eh? Dem all stubborn.” Christopher shrugged.
“I, uh, yeah.” I tilted my head. “I wasn’t expecting that. He doesn’t look… dead? At this rate, I’m not entirely convinced that the substance hasn’t put Flynn in a coma as opposed to killing him,” I whispered in full respect to Flynn.
“I know how to do me job. He’s gone. Definitely.” Christopher chuckled at my reaction. “Seen a lot of bodies, huh?” He waggled his fingers, quoting my own lines.
“Let’s forget I said any of that,” I spoke in hushed tones. “He just looks… alive.” DCI Reid concurred. Thankfully McCall wasn’t here, otherwise she’d be in pieces at seeing Flynn so peaceful. “He had a daughter. And a wife. They’ll be heartbroken.”
Christopher gently used a gloved thumb to stroke his own chin. “I can imagine. There’s nothing pretty about any of this,” he said unironically. “Don’t do that.” He circled my eyebrows with his pointer finger mid-air. “That’s freaky.”
“I wish it wasn’t so obviously foul play,” DCI Reid huffed. “Now we’ve got murders, drugs and robberies to investigate. It’s never ending.”
“Any signs of a struggle or bruising anywhere? Nobody forced him to take the substance?” I sorted out the frown, well aware that it made me appear intimidating.
“None. No struggle. Flynn took the coffee and drinks unprompted, it should seem.” Christopher rattled a few bowls which were filled with various sized rags.
DCI Reid sighed. “Advanced moves.”
“Who are they? The people that did this,” Christopher asked distractedly. “Because there are more patients here, and we have to keep them safe.”
“We don’t know, and that’s the problem.” I sighed, pinching my temples tight. “But this was a planned attack. Flynn was targeted on purpose. I think everyone else will be fine.”
“I’ve got enough science degrees to know when something strange is going on.” Christopher popped a different pair of latex gloves on, using his teeth to fulfil the movement. The sound of pinging elastic reverberated across the room. “I want to know if I’m next. Flynn’s in my care now.”
He had every reason to be alarmed.
“Well, you’re probably right about that. The people that killed him may be out to dispose of the body too. We can’t take any chances. I’ll put police along the corridor, not that it did much justice for Flynn. Just, be careful, eh?” DCI Reid made certain that Christopher understood the dire consequences of getting involved in our case was.
“Always check who’s around, make sure you can trust
them. Don’t give out Flynn’s details to anyone. Not even the nurses,” I instructed. I probably overloaded Christopher with too many details, but it was all in the best interest of his safety.
“I wasn’t expecting such a depressing response,” he sniffed distractedly.
“It’s a depressing situation,” I scrawled my number down on a spare piece of notepaper.
“I’m flattered,” Christopher joked, as witty as they came when I handed the number over.
“If you see or hear anything, and I mean anything suspicious, then phone that number there. Ask specifically for DI Cooper or DCI Reid.” We shared a grim glance. “We’re fronting Flynn’s investigation.”
“Don’t hesitate to come back soon, you two.” He shook our hands, leaving us wiping them off. Just in case there was anything icky left from Flynn’s body on his gloves. “It’s been an interesting afternoon, I could do with some living company more often.”
“I sincerely hope we don’t have to show up here again. No offense, Christopher but I’d prefer fewer people getting murdered around the Bay,” I grimaced.
“Watch it, Inspector. I’m surrounded by a lot of harmful instruments here.” Christopher pretended to deliberate over a few. “What should we use first? The scissors, or?” He held up a shiny tool, complete with a sharp edge.
“That’s wrong.” I threw my hands up in mercy. “That’s our cue to leave. Thanks for the help.”
“A pleasure, Mr Cooper.” Christopher fake saluted and engrossed himself in his work. “And you, DCI Reid.”
DCI Reid bid farewell, long strides pacing well ahead of mine. He found a breakfast bar in his pocket, covered in a bit of fluff. He shrugged and ate it, anyway.
“Can’t be fussy when I’m starving.”
“How can you eat after looking at Flynn’s body? I need about half an hour to recover.” I gagged at the smell.
“You’ll be ready to eat by the time we get to the station then. I suggest you do because we’re now investigating a murder too,” DCI Reid stated grimly. “These are busy days, Cooper. Let’s hope we’re up to the challenge.”
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