Death's Privilege

by Darryl Donaghue

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘She gave me the bank details for her boyfriend, the one who’s been taking money from her, and the account number is my husband’s work account.’

  ‘Have you asked him about it? I'll be the first to tell you that a good marriage survives on secrets, but there are limits.’

  ‘That's very cynical, even for you. We talked yesterday and he denied having an affair, or knowing who she was.’

  ‘Do you…’

  ‘Believe him? I didn't at the time, but knowing what I know now, I'm pretty confident Leilani made the whole thing up. I know he wouldn’t steal money from anyone, and he certainly wouldn’t assault anyone. He had a temper in his youth, but there’s no way he’d give Leilani the bruises she claimed he did.’

  'Then how do you explain her having his bank details?'

  'That's what I intend to find out after I arrest her.' Something Sarah couldn't wait much longer to do.

  ‘Sarah, how long have you known about this?

  ‘A few days now.’

  ‘Why didn’t you come to me sooner?’

  ‘Sorry. I wanted to speak to Mark about it first. With the way the week’s been, I just kept putting it off. I didn't want to open up an investigation on my husband before finding out a few more details.’

  Dales sighed. ‘It’s not a big deal this time round. Nothing’s been stolen and no one’s been hurt. In the future, anything involving family members, or even friends, needs to be mentioned to your line manager as soon as possible. It’ll help avoid some very awkward questions further down the line.’

  ‘I will. We need to bring her in. Normally I’d say let’s build the case first, but with kids involved…’

  ‘Okay. Let’s do it.’ He seemed content to follow her lead and she appreciated that. When they’d met back in Sunbury, he’d fired questions at her and disregarded her opinions as emotional reactions rather than an instinctive drive worth following. She wondered if his decision to tutor her was his way of apologising. Apologising in a way that men like him struggled to verbalise. Part of her wanted to believe she’d influenced him in return. Helped him see things from a different perspective, showed him in some small way that the force wasn’t entirely going to hell in a handbasket after all. Or maybe not. Maybe she’d only managed to change his taste in tea. ‘We’ll bring her in for the blackmail allegation and get to the bottom of the rest of it whilst she’s inside.’ Dales went to the fleet board to get the car keys.

  ‘Two minutes. I just want to check something.’ Sarah clicked Add a photo later, logged in and ran a search. Looking for men, aged 20-45, Mavenswood plus ten miles out. 15 matches. Leilani had met Joel on this site and if Enderson was on here too, that could be the link she was looking for. Their usernames didn’t give any clues: ‘yourguy86’, ‘cuddlyman’, ‘Elrond66’ weren’t about to identify anyone. She pulled out Enderson’s photo from his file and scrolled down the search results. There he was. Enderson’s profile photo was a selfie in his bathroom. Next to him was a picture of a man wearing a sombrero and a fake moustache. It was a picture she recognised from a themed birthday party a few years back. It was a picture of, her husband, Mark Gladstone.

  Dales came back with the keys. He said something to her, but not a word registered. Her husband stared at her from the screen. Are a few long shifts at work all it takes to break a marriage?

  ‘Who’s the gringo?’

  ‘My husband.’

  ‘What’s he doing on a...oh.’

  She struggled to speak, but had to hold it together. Her discovery was devastating, but a sickening realisation quickly dawned on her. ‘Sarge, Joel met Leilani through this site. This here is Scott Enderson, the boy murdered in Amblin Park after having large amounts of money taken from him.’ She wanted to scroll the page up and remove Mark’s face from the screen, as if that’d make it disappear. Her investigative inclinations caused her to do the complete opposite. She clicked.

  There was only the one picture. He’d always been camera shy and she remembered having to nag him to take this one. The profile was brief. No mention of being married, of course, and he’d omitted the kids too. The first line mentioned his business. I run my own web design start-up. It’s more of a team effort isn’t it, she thought. The tone of the profile was far more confident than he was in real life. The last line was the most damaging of all. Has been a member since July 2014. Before she’d started the program. The long hours hadn’t really kicked in back then, so the excuse she’d held on to for the recent arguments wouldn’t cut it this time. Had he come here for something he couldn’t get from her? Was it for recognition? More exciting sex? Those questions would have to wait.

  ‘How do you pay for things like this? Any methods we can trace?’

  ‘With a card, Sarge.’ She shot him a puzzled look, certain he wasn’t that out of touch.

  Sarah was grateful for the excuse to stop looking at Mark’s profile. She clicked on the FAQ page and payment options. ‘It’s general card or PayPal only on most websites.’ After a few clicks, her thoughts were confirmed. ‘Card payments only use the long number and the CSC on the back. There’s no way of getting the account number from that, even if she owned the site. Only if money was sent to her via bank transfer.’ She opened the calendar app on her phone and checked Mark’s investors meeting. Today 09:00 at the Oxlaine. The blood rushed from her face. She grabbed her cuffs and kit belt from the drawer and the keys from Dales' hands. ‘Or she sent money to them.’

  Sarah parked the Getz across two spaces and marched towards the big front doors of the Oxlaine Hotel with Dales in tow.

  ‘You sure about this? You may be walking in on something you don’t want to see,’ said Dales.

  ‘If she’s in there, she’s coming in for the blackmail of Joel Johnson, whatever she’s in the middle of doing. We’ll sort out the details once she’s in.’

  Margaret Levskchin smiled from behind the reception desk.

  ‘Welcome back to the Oxlaine.’ She looked at Sarah’s radio awkwardly popping out of her top jacket pocket. ‘Official business?’

  ‘There’s a meeting here today. Mark Gladstone attending. What room is that being held in?’

  Margaret looked suspicious. ‘Are you a part of it?’

  ‘My husband is. I need to get him a message. Very, very quickly.’

  ‘I can call the room for you?’

  ‘Margaret. Where’s the room?’

  She paused and placed the phone back on the handset. ‘It’s on the fourth floor. Furthest room on the right.’

  Sarah ran up the stairs and burst through the door of the Stratus conference room with Dales following behind. Her husband and his three work colleagues were at the far end of the room, slumped face first on the table. Wine dripped onto the floor from fallen glasses. At the end of the table sat Valerie Goddard, holding up a half-empty glass of red.

  Valerie stood. ‘Before you thank me, I really can’t take all the credit.’ She gestured the glass towards Mark’s limp body.

  ‘What have you done?’ Sarah ran towards her husband and took a pulse from his neck. Still beating. Valerie, now only metres away, didn’t flinch.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry. He’ll be gone soon.’

  ‘What did you give them?’ Sarah panicked. Valerie smiled and sat back down.

  Dales pressed his radio. ‘Ambulance required to the Oxlaine Hotel, Stratus conference room, fourth floor. Four males, unconscious and breathing. Poison administered, unknown at this time.’ The operator responded confirming ambulance had been notified. ‘Requesting additional response units.’

  Sarah took hold of Mark’s shoulders and pulled him back into his chair.

  Valerie sighed. ‘Look at him. Not so cocky now, is he?’

  Sarah pressed the sides of his cheeks inward, opening his mouth to remove any remaining poison whilst avoiding touching his lips. Wine dripped from the side of his mouth. She slapped him a couple of times hoping to rouse him, but it had no effect. His back star
ted to arch and his arms became stiff to touch.

  Dales did the same with one of the others, pulling him back and trying to remove any remaining poison.

  ‘That one just got caught up in it all. Another victim of your husband’s wicked ways. No tragic loss, I’m sure.’

  ‘No tragic loss? These people have families and you’re killing them for what?’

  ‘For exactly that. He’s not been faithful. The others, I’m not so sure, but your one definitely hasn’t.’ She spoke quickly and her voice lacked its refined tone. Wine swirled in her glass as she gestured towards Mark. Valerie stood up and paced to and from the table, her voice rising to the tension of the situation. ‘The moment he joined that site, no, when he decided to lie to your family. That’s the moment he found me.’

  ‘You’re insane.’ Sarah moved around the table to the third poison victim, keeping a constant eye on her husband for any signs of movement, but seeing nothing. Where is that ambulance?

  ‘You’ve played along with a man who was only ever going to break your family apart. It’s all that’s in him to do. Blaming them for their behaviour is like scolding a neglected dog for nipping your ankles. They need to be taught and, if not, what recourse do we have but to put them down?’

  ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  Sarah’s radio blared in her pocket. ‘Paramedics are at your location with two double-crewed units.’

  Valerie heard the transmission. ‘After today, you’ll thank me. Look after Eric, won’t you? He’s not like the rest.’ She drank the wine.

  ‘No, you don’t.’ Sarah grabbed her arm seconds too late. The empty glass dropped to the floor. She held her from behind and thrust into her solar plexus trying to get her to cough it up.

  The door opened. Officers and paramedics came into the room.

  ‘She’s just this second ingested poison, the others maybe twenty minutes ago max.’ Dales pointed over to Valerie.

  A paramedic hurried over to her whilst the others began setting up the stretchers and attending to the four men around the table. ‘What did you take?’

  Valerie’s’ face was red at being forced to cough so hard. She didn’t answer. Her body became heavy all of a sudden and Sarah helped the paramedic get her onto a stretcher. Paramedics strapped them all in and the officers helped carry them down the stairs.

  Sarah went downstairs first. Semples was waiting at the bottom. He lost the strength in his legs as he saw Valerie being carried out on the stretcher.

  ‘Let me see her.’ Semples reached towards Valerie with shaking hands.

  ‘Let them do their job.’ Dales held him up and kept him away as the paramedics carried her out.

  ‘Who did this? Who could have done this?’

  ‘She poisoned them, then poisoned herself.’ Sarah handed Dales the car keys. ‘Sarge, I’m going to jump in the back of the ambulance.’

  Sarah waited in A & E at St. Jude’s Hospital, whilst Mark and the others were rushed into the operating room. It was quieter than she was used to seeing it. Back when she was in uniform, ending up in A & E was routine for the Friday and Saturday-night shifts. Guarding sick prisoners, escorting the drunk and incapable or supporting victims of violent offences were the norm back then. She’d hated hospitals before she’d ever put the uniform on and she hated them even more since. Her reason for being there this time would do nothing to change that.

  Dales walked in. ‘How are they doing?’

  ‘They’ve just rushed them all in. Waiting to hear. Where’s Semples? There’s no way he doesn’t know anything about this.’

  ‘In the car. He’s in pieces. He knows something, but wants to speak to Valerie. I thought it best I come in and check the situation first. You want to wait outside? Maybe some air would do you good? I can wait here and come find you when there’s news.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’d rather be as close as possible.’ Her feet tapped with impatience and nerves. She’d delayed talking to Mark when it was most important to do so. Now, when she wanted to tell him so much, the choice to do so had been taken away.

  Dales put his hand on her arm. ‘He’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be alright. Can I get you a cuppa? They only have those cheap machines here, but maybe it’ll help?’ He wasn’t the best at sensitive situations, but she appreciated him trying. Conveying absolute empathy with victims, but collapsing when personal lives called for emotional engagement was a common trait amongst police officers.

  ‘Was this what you were talking about? Back at the Oxlaine?’

  Dales laughed it off. ‘That? Just an old man’s ramblings.’

  ‘I just wanted to say that, standing here, waiting to hear if my husband is alive or dead, if my daughters still have their father, I get it. I realise what’s important. And thanks.’

  ‘And I just want to say I have no idea what you’re talking about, Gladstone. And it wouldn’t be the first time.’ He winked at her. She took it as both an acknowledgment of a lesson learned and a hint he didn’t want to talk about it. She’d seen beneath his battered armour just the once, and that would be enough for now. She may never know what prompted him to open up to her that morning. One thing she did know was that finding time for the important things, the important people, was the most crucial career lesson her tutor would ever teach her.

  ‘If we’re going to connect her to Enderson, we’ll need to figure out how she got him in that tree at her age.’

  ‘With the help of a soppy ex-military lapdog? If he’s willing to buy cocaine, who knows what else he’s been doing. I’ll get into him, see what he’s willing to spill.’

  ‘With Valerie in custody, it’s time for him to face up to some truths.’

  ‘If she makes it.’

  ‘She will make it. She will answer my questions.’

  The door to the wards opened and a man wearing scrubs and thin-rimmed glasses walked into A & E. He pulled his face mask down. ‘Sarah Gladstone?’

  Sarah looked at him, not knowing what to expect and with a thousand irrepressible thoughts bursting in her head.

  Twenty-Four

  ‘Remember, you’re looking for poisons, any documents relating to their purchase, any suggestion of insanity, motives et cetera.’ Goddard’s house was huge, but Joel was satisfied there were enough uniformed officers on site to conduct the search. Manford had dispatched them to the address the moment Valerie had arrived in custody. Hayward stood behind him as he briefed the team of ten officers, some of who had come from other districts to make up the numbers. ‘Split up and let’s head to our assigned rooms, grab an evidence gathering box between two.’ Five plastic boxes containing evidence bags, exhibit books, gloves and small cameras were stacked by the lounge door. Joel was confident the officers knew the drill, but he wanted to mention absolutely everything so Hayward had no excuse not to sign off the briefing section of his portfolio. ‘We’ll be upstairs if you need anything.’

  Joel had walked around the premises prior to giving the search teams their rooms. There was only one room left unassigned. Up the stairs, and at the end of the corridor past a series of wide open doors, was the only locked room in the house.

  ‘I’ve tried all the keys from her property at the hospital. None of them fit the lock.’ Joel turned the handle and gave it another push, but it didn’t budge. ‘I’m guessing it’s somewhere in the house.’

  Hayward pushed against the top of the door and pressed his foot against the bottom. It gave way a little at both ends. ‘It’s just a basic lock. Nothing that strong.’

  ‘The key will turn up, I don’t think we should—’

  Hayward kicked the door and it flew open, rebounding against the wall. ‘What? It’s not like she’s going to bill us.’ He held his hand out for Joel to go in first.

  Joel shook his head and walked in first. He only took a few steps before what covered the walls stopped him dead in his tracks.

  ‘What in hell is this?’ Hayward stepped over to the wall for a closer lo
ok.

  ‘I’d say this was a suggestion of insanity.’

  Photos covered the walls. Black and white and cut to awkward shapes. So many, that only specks of cream wallpaper could be seen through the gaps.

  ‘Suggestion? These ones have faces burnt out of them.’ Hayward pointed at the photos surrounding the light switch.

  ‘They all do.’ Joel looked around the room. A face was scratched or burnt from every one. ‘A man’s face at that. Clothing gives it away.’

  ‘Who’s the lady?’ Hayward removed the tack and pulled one of the photos from the wall.

  ‘Goddard? Hard to tell. Outdated fashion isn’t really my thing.’

  Hayward looked him up and down. ‘That surprises me.’

  ‘Whoever she is, she’s in a lot of these shots. Here’s another woman with a baby.’ Joel walked over to the corner of the room and pulled a photo down. A woman sat holding a baby and a suited man, his face burnt, stood beside her with his hand on her shoulder. ‘This one looks older. Her mother?’

  ‘Impossible to know.’ Hayward spun around and looked at the walls. ‘Almost every inch covered.’

  ‘We’ll have to run it by someone who knows her. Sarah’s met her, we’ll take some snaps of the photos in situ to show her and bring them back with us. Let’s get searching the rest of the room.’

  In the far corner was a bookshelf and an armchair. On the other side, a PC tower and monitor sat on a small wooden desk, with a carved wooden chair tucked underneath it.

  ‘There’s not much here. Shouldn’t take too long. The sooner we get out of this room, the better.’ Hayward kept an eye on the photos as he walked towards the desk, as if they were keeping an eye on him too.

  ‘I’ll do the heavy lifting then.’ Joel lifted the armchair and tilted it onto its back. ‘Nothing under here.’ He looked around. ‘Any lighters, matches, scissors anywhere?’