by DS Butler
Mackinnon had just pressed the send button when Collins walked outside. “Charlotte said you came out here,” Collins said. He was only in his suit jacket. He crossed his arms over his chest and shivered. “It’s bloody freezing out here. What are you doing?”
“I just needed some fresh air,” Mackinnon said, checking his watch. “I’m not late, am I? We still have five minutes before the briefing starts.”
He started to walk back towards the station entrance.
“The briefing has been delayed,” Collins said. “But we’d better get back inside.”
Mackinnon frowned. Collins’ face looked tense. “What’s happened?”
“We’ve got another one,” Collins said.
Mackinnon followed Collins upstairs as he took the stairs two at a time. The incident room was a hub of activity when they reached it, phones ringing, people calling to each other over the desks.
DI Tyler strode across the room and met Mackinnon’s gaze.
“We’ve got another victim,” he said. “This time they’ve been sloppy. They left the syringe at the scene. They are going to regret that mistake.”
“Where?” Mackinnon asked.
“Fast Fitness. A gym on Hale Street, round the back of London Bridge station. He was found in the car park.”
“It’s a male victim this time?” Mackinnon frowned. Different location and completely different type of victim. Unpredictable. That wasn’t good.
“Another body in less than twenty four hours,” Collins said. “Christ.”
Tyler nodded. “My sentiments exactly. You and Mackinnon get yourselves over to the scene. I’ll follow you over there after I’ve briefed DCI Brookbank.”
18
BY THE TIME MACKINNON and Collins got to the scene, it was already a hub of activity. A dark corner of the car park at the front of the Fast Fitness gym was illuminated with lights. A section of the car park had been sealed off, and there was a group of gym members who were arguing furiously with a uniformed officer standing by the tape. They wanted their cars back, but they wouldn’t get them until they had been interviewed.
Mackinnon took a moment to help the harassed uniformed officer by explaining to the crowd that they would not be able to access their cars and should wait inside the gym for questioning. There were a few stragglers, but most did as he asked and returned to the gym.
Sheets of tarpaulin blocked the view of the body from members of the public who were hanging around by the tape.
DI Tyler arrived just minutes after Collins and Mackinnon. He was talking to the crime scene manager when Mackinnon wandered over. He nodded, and as Tyler continued his conversation with the crime scene manager, Mackinnon suited up, slipping on pale blue covers over his own shoes, so he didn’t contaminate the crime scene.
It was bitingly cold, but at least the rain had stopped.
Tyler looked up as Mackinnon approached. “We’ve got some differences this time,” he said.
“Are we sure it’s the same killer?” Mackinnon asked. From where he stood, he could see the victim was a well-built man, and there was no sign of bloating as there had been on Beverley Madison’s body.
“They left the syringe this time,” Tyler said. “It’s got to be the same one.”
“He was a big bloke,” Mackinnon said. “Can’t have been easy to overpower him.”
“There’s no sign of a struggle at all, is there?”
Mackinnon looked at the crime scene manager, who shook his head.
Tyler sighed and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “I’m thinking perhaps he was taken by surprise. I don’t know how quickly this venom works. From what DC Brown learned talking to a specialist at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine, if it was a normal bite from a snake it could kill in a matter of minutes. But injecting the venom by syringe means much more venom can be delivered, more than a typical snakebite. So death probably comes very quickly.”
Mackinnon edged closer for another look at the victim. He guessed the man was about his own age. He was tall, over six-foot and well-built.
DI Tyler finished his conversation with the crime scene manager and joined Mackinnon by the body.
“What have we got on him so far?” Mackinnon asked.
Tyler puffed out a breath. “Collins has gone to talk to the caretaker. He’s the one who called it in. Poor bloke. He’s a bit shaken up. A woman called Leslie Green found the body an hour ago, and her screams alerted the caretaker who patrols the grounds every hour or so. They’ve had problems with thieves breaking into cars, so they put up some more of these lights recently,” Tyler gestured with a nod to a yellow-tinted lamp a couple of metres away. “There is also working CCTV.” He pointed to the camera in the corner of the car park. “We’re getting a copy of the footage now, but from what we’ve seen so far we’ve got a hooded figure running away. It’s not going to help us much. Collins is trying to talk with Leslie Green, but I’m not sure how much we can get out of her. She didn’t see the killer. She only found the body lying on the floor.”
“What’s his name?” Mackinnon said, staring down at the dead man.
“Joe Griffin. A local boy. Works as a personal trainer, and he has worked here for about five years, according to the woman on the reception desk. According to colleagues we’ve spoken to, he was a friendly chap, not the type to have enemies.”
Tyler waved over one of the uniformed officers. “PC Green,” he said. “How many members of staff have you managed to speak to so far?”
PC Green looked nervous. He cleared his throat. “Erm, let me see…I’ve managed to talk to the lady on reception, as well as a woman who took the evening step class and to one of the cleaners. They’re on a skeleton staff tonight. They were meant to have five staff on rota, but one called in sick. Some sort of bug going around apparently.”
“What did they tell you about the victim?”
“They all seem in agreement, saying that he was a pleasant man, easy to get along with. Although, he had a bit of a flirtation thing going on with a couple of the female clients.”
Tyler looked at Mackinnon and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe he was playing around?”
“You think an angry husband did this?” Mackinnon shook his head. “What on earth links him with Beverley Madison?”
PC Green perked up, and his eyes widened. “Do you think it had something to do with the Charmer then, sir?”
Tyler pulled a face and looked at PC Green. “The Charmer? Where on earth do you get these things?”
PC Green flushed. “It’s what everyone is calling him. You know…like a snake charmer.”
Tyler glared at him. “I’ll speak to you later.” Tyler dismissed him by turning his back.
“Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?” Tyler said to Mackinnon.
“I think we’ve got Jacob Jansen to thank for that. He mentioned it to the press when I was there.”
“Bloody idiot,” Tyler muttered.
“So where do we go from here? It’s going to be a while before the crime scene unit have finished.”
“I’m going to stick around,” Tyler said. “I’ve got Collins talking to Lesley Green and the caretaker, trying to find out if either of them saw anything relevant.”
Tyler hesitated and looked up at Mackinnon, then said, “I’d like you to go and talk to Joe Griffin’s wife, Jack.”
Mackinnon felt the beginnings of indigestion start to burn in his chest. He hated giving death messages. But it was a necessary evil. He nodded.
“Her name is Carla Griffin.” Tyler gave Mackinnon the address.
Mackinnon headed off, ducking beneath the tape and making his way towards his own car. Collins would have to get a lift back with Tyler.
As soon as Mackinnon slipped into the driver’s seat, he felt in his coat pocket for an indigestion tablet. He slipped it in his mouth and leaned back for a second with his eyes closed.
After taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and started the car.
&
nbsp; He was about to ruin Carla Griffin’s life.
19
MACKINNON SAT IN THE small front room in the terraced house that had belonged to Joe Griffin. Opposite him, Carla Griffin sat pale and horrified on the sofa, surrounded by bright pink cushions.
This was the worst bit. After delivering the devastating news, Mackinnon then had to stay and ask prying questions about Joe Griffin’s life. He had to grill her about the state of their marriage and ask whether she thought anyone had wished her husband harm.
He’d met up with the family liaison officer, Kristin Murphy, on the street outside the small terraced house.
Carla Griffin had opened the door with a smile. She was in the middle of a sentence, laughing as she assumed it was Joe and asking him if he had forgotten his key.
The smile had slid from her face when she saw Mackinnon and Kristin standing there.
She had been silent at first, and then after she had processed the initial bombshell, she’d cried. But she hadn’t gotten angry yet. That stage of grief was still to come. Right now, she was still too shocked to feel much of anything.
Kristin entered the small living room, holding mugs of tea. Mackinnon took his with a murmur of thanks. Kristin had to hold the mug up to Carla for a few seconds before Carla even realised she was there.
Eventually, Carla blinked up at her and grasped the handle.
“Are you sure it’s Joe,” she said. “It might not be him. He works late sometimes.” She looked up at Mackinnon with a painful half smile, but the hope didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“We believe it is Joe,” Mackinnon said carefully. “A number of his colleagues saw him, and they identified him.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “How did it happen? Was he mugged?”
“We are investigating your husband’s death, Mrs. Griffin,” Mackinnon said. “But we don’t believe it was a mugging. We think it’s possible your husband may have been deliberately targeted by someone. Is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to harm Joe?”
Carla’s eyes filled with tears. “No, not Joe. Everyone loves Joe.”
Carla started to shiver and Kristin perched on the sofa beside her and leaned forward to pat her hand. “Can I get you a cardi? Something to keep you warm. You’ve had a terrible shock.”
Carla stared straight ahead. “No. I’m not cold.” She didn’t stop shivering.
Mackinnon glanced around the room, taking in the framed photographs on the mantelpiece. In pride of place at the centre was a large photograph of Joe and Carla on their wedding day, looking happy and hopeful for the future.
Sometimes life could be so unfair.
“Is there someone who could come and stay with you?” Kristin asked. “Your mum or another family member perhaps?”
Carla turned to face Kristin. “Yes, my mum.”
“Okay, good.”
Carla’s fingers interlaced around the mug of tea she held on her lap. She was shaking so badly that some of the tea spilled. She didn’t even flinch when Kristin artfully removed the mug and laid it down on the coffee table.
Suddenly Carla’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “I’m going to have to tell Joe’s mum and dad, aren’t I? Oh God, I can’t do that.”
Kristin put a comforting hand on Carla’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “If it helps, I can do it for you.”
Carla nodded but then she took a shaky breath and said, “No, I’ve got to do it. I don’t want a stranger telling them about Joe.”
Mackinnon decided to ask a couple more questions then finish up. He had asked Carla all the questions he could think of, and she was too shocked at this stage to answer in detail. They would have to try again tomorrow.
“How had Joe been acting recently? Had he been stressed or worried about anything?”
Carla shook her head. “No, nothing. We were happy. We were planning a holiday in Barbados in February. I suppose I’ll have to cancel it now.”
“This is a sensitive question, Mrs. Griffin,” Mackinnon said, thinking about the obituary that Beverley Madison had received before her death. “Had your husband received anything, any notes or any threats recently?”
Mackinnon was expecting Carla to repeat her statement that everyone loved Joe, but she didn’t.
She bit her lip and then folded her arms. “There weren’t any threats as such, but there was something.”
She looked up and frowned as if she was trying hard to remember something. She got to her feet and walked across to a pine cabinet, pulling open one drawer after another until she found what she was looking for. Finally after rummaging around, she pulled out a small square of paper.
Mackinnon held his breath.
He knew what it was even before Carla had showed it to him.
“It was horrible. Joe got it in the post last week. I thought we should tell the police, but he said it was just some idiot playing a practical joke.”
Kristin stared wide-eyed at Mackinnon as they waited for Carla to continue.
“I didn’t think it was funny at all. But Joe said I was overreacting.” She handed the small piece of paper to Mackinnon. It was an obituary notice, torn from a newspaper, just like the one sent to Beverley Madison.
Carla wrapped her arms around her chest and hugged herself tightly. She bit down on her lip, then said, “Do you think it was a warning?” Her voice cracked. “What does it mean?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Mackinnon said. “But we are going to do everything we can to find out who killed your husband. I promise.”
20
WHEN MACKINNON FINALLY GOT home, it was almost two in the morning. He wasn’t expecting Derek to be up. As he let himself in with his key, Molly, Derek’s Border Collie gave a warning bark.
“Hey, sweetheart, keep quiet. It’s only me,” Mackinnon said in a whisper.
He headed straight for the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. As he drained the glass, he spotted a note from Derek on the kitchen counter.
Curry in fridge. You’re welcome.
Mackinnon grinned. Good old Derek. Mackinnon felt his stomach rumble. He hadn’t eaten since the bacon sandwich he’d had for breakfast.
He opened the refrigerator and pulled out two foil trays, one containing pilau rice, the other containing Mackinnon’s favourite: lamb rogan josh.
Mackinnon had just started to pile the curry on a plate when he heard a movement behind him.
He turned to see Derek scratching his head, his eyes bleary from sleep.
“Sorry,” Mackinnon said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Thanks for this.” He pointed at the curry.
Derek yawned. “You are all right. It was Molly who woke me up,” he said, leaning forward to scratch the dog behind her ears.
“Bad night?” Derek asked.
Mackinnon put the plate into the microwave and turned it on. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and nodded. “Pretty bad. There was no way I could have gone back to Oxford tonight and then been back in London for an early start in the morning. Thanks for letting me crash here.”
“No problem,” Derek said.
“I thought you might be staying at Julia’s tonight.”
Derek shrugged. “Yeah. That’s over.”
Mackinnon raised an eyebrow. “I thought things were going well.”
“So did I. I guess I was wrong.”
Mackinnon wasn’t terribly surprised. Derek’s girlfriends never stuck around for long, although it tended to be Derek who grew tired of being in a relationship and shrank away from commitment.
“She dumped you then?” Mackinnon asked.
Derek scowled. “Don’t spare my feelings, will you?” He sighed. “It was just all this talk of Christmas. She wanted me to spend it with her parents and kept dropping hints about a certain item of jewellery for Christmas.”
Derek shuddered. “She was moving too fast.”
Mackinnon took his plate out of the microwave and stirred the lamb cu
rry before shoving it back in and putting it on for another minute.
“Maybe you could have told her that you thought things were moving too fast. She might have been happy to slow things down.”
Derek shook his head and looked at Mackinnon as if he was crazy. “That wouldn’t have worked. Once she got that idea in her head, there was no slowing things down. A clean break is best for everyone.”
Mackinnon shrugged. “You okay, though?”
Derek nodded. “I’m fine.”
Derek didn’t normally waste any energy on regretting past relationships, but this one seemed a little different. He’d been with Julia for a while now. Mackinnon had started to think she might have been the one.
As the microwave pinged, Derek yawned again. “Right. I’m going back to bed. Enjoy the curry.”
“I will,” Mackinnon said. “Thanks again.”
He put his plate on a tray and carried it over to the sofa. He switched on the TV to watch the news. Molly curled up by his feet.
Mackinnon had just taken his first bite of lamb, which was fantastic as always, when the story on Sky news changed.
The Charmer was flashed across the screen in huge letters, and recorded images of the crime scene in the car park outside Fast Fitness played behind the newsreader.
Mackinnon groaned. Great. DI Tyler would be in a foul mood tomorrow.
21
CHARLOTTE RUBBED HER EYES and then leaned back in the chair, staring up at the bright fluorescent lights overhead. She was going to have to call it a day soon. She’d been trawling through the dangerous wild animal licences from the local councils. She needed to discover if anyone had a licence for a Russell’s viper. Of course it was a long shot. The killer could be someone who owned a snake illegally, or perhaps they just bought the venom from someone else. Maybe it was naive to hope that the killer had done things legally.
She took a sip of her coffee, which had grown cold ages ago, and then stared at her computer screen. It was making her eyes sting. She’d been looking at the damn thing for so long.