by Ken McClure
"Was Saxon in on it too?"
Ferguson seemed amused at the suggestion. "Don't be ridiculous," he sneered. "That idiot knew nothing at all about it. He didn't have the nerve to play for high stakes."
"But you did," said Fenton quietly.
"That's what being a Cavalier is all about Fenton."
"Did you kill Saxon too?"
"The slow witted clod finally twigged to what had been going on. I think he wanted to break off our engagement." Ferguson laughed at his own joke.
Fenton felt sick but he had to know it all. "Sandra Murray too?" he asked.
"She knew too much."
"Don't you feel anything?" Fenton asked, horrified at Ferguson's lack of emotion. He was angry with himself for not having suspected Ferguson sooner. Now when he thought about it, it had been Ferguson who had been on duty in the lab immediately before the incident with the fume cupboard and Ferguson had been present to hear him volunteer to come in that Sunday to help Saxon.
"All that nonsense about wanting to change your job because you were scared…" said Fenton.
"I thought that was rather a nice touch," said Ferguson.
Fenton saw his own death warrant in Ferguson's eyes and was desperately afraid. The thought that he would never see Jenny again was unbearable.
Ferguson looked around him and thought aloud. "An accident with the cylinder I think." He said it as if he were thinking about the seating arrangements for a dinner party. "Yes, that's it. You were changing the heavy cylinder all on your own when it fell on you and knocked you out. The lab filled up with gas from the leaking valve on the cylinder and there was…a fire…an explosion."
Through his fear Fenton saw that he had one chance. Ferguson would have to bend down to release the empty cylinder. If he could hit the transporter at just the right angle and at just the right moment…"
Ferguson bent down and Fenton's feet shot out to send the heavy metal transporter crashing into him. One of the bars caught Ferguson behind the ear and he went out like a light. But for how long? That was the question that bred new panic in Fenton. He was still tied up. What could he do? Could he risk trying to roll across the floor and down the stairs? What was the point? He couldn't open the front door even if he succeeded. The phone! If he could just get the receiver off the hook surely he could dial three nines even with his hands behind his back.
Getting across the floor was more difficult than Fenton had anticipated, his frustration and fear growing with every second that passed. His mouth was drier than a desert when he finally succeeded in raising himself to his knees beside the table where the phone was but a sudden groan from Ferguson almost panicked him into losing balance. It took four attempts to get the phone off the hook, then, clatter, it was done.
Ferguson groaned again and Fenton turned to see him move slightly on the floor. He managed to dial one nine then slipped and cursed. Ferguson moved again and Fenton knew that it was hopeless. Even if he did manage to make the call Ferguson was going to come round long before the police would arrive. Despair threatened as he searched for a way of injuring Ferguson more permanently.
Outside, a police siren started to wail. "Please God, make them come here," said Fenton out loud as he failed to see any way he could keep Ferguson out of action. To Fenton's amazement the siren grew louder and louder until it stopped outside the door of the lab and he heard car doors being slammed. Fenton heard the front door being broken in and the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. "I'm in here," he yelled as Ferguson struggled on to his hands and knees.
Jamieson entered the room first. He was followed by two uniformed constables. He looked at Ferguson and then at Fenton's chains as Fenton fought to regain the power of speech.
"How?" stammered Fenton. "Just how the hell did you know?"
Jamieson said, "I didn't really. The truth is we didn't get a computer report for one of the cars at Helmwood until twenty minutes ago because of a recent change in ownership. When I found out that the car belonged to one, Ian Ferguson and bearing in mind what you said about Saxon not being Munro's killer and how the murderer would have to be someone in the lab I put two and two together. Ferguson wasn't at his flat so I put out an APB for the car. It was reported outside the lab…so here I am."
Ferguson was now fully conscious. Jamieson bent down to caution him and place him under formal arrest. Fenton told him all that Ferguson had confessed to.
"Is that a fact?" said Jamieson quietly.
"I'm saying nothing," said Ferguson.
"Of course not sir," said Jamieson with a sneer.
Ferguson put his hand up to his head to feel the place where the transporter had hit him and, in doing so, lifted the hair away from his ear. It had a piece missing from it. Fenton froze when he saw it and knew that Jamieson had seen it too.
Jamieson turned to the two constables and said, "Wait downstairs." The men looked puzzled but trooped out obediently and closed the door behind them. Suddenly and without any warning Jamieson spun on his heel and swung his right foot into Ferguson's face. Fenton winced but Jamieson remained expressionless. "That," he said looking down at the gasping Ferguson, "was a wee something for Madeline Gray."
When he could speak again through a mess of blood and teeth Ferguson spluttered, "You won't get away with this you bastard!" He turned to Fenton and said, "You saw that Fenton! You saw what he did to me!"
"Saw what?" said Fenton.
The winter was finally over.
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Document ID: fbd-454a65-e69f-6b4e-26a8-de3d-62e3-fc92b9
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Document creation date: 07.04.2012
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