Tired of standing, Paolo leaned back to rest against a desk.
“April Greychurch said as much when we were there. Selling his house was the only option left open to him and, with the market as depressed as it is, the chances are he wouldn’t get a taker for it for some considerable time.”
Andrea stood up clutching Montague’s laptop. “I’m going to take this home with me, if that’s okay with you, sir. I’ll work better without distractions.”
Paolo nodded. “Of course, but call me the moment you uncover anything, no matter how small. I know we’re dealing with suicide, but in my eyes, driving someone to kill themselves because they can no longer pay up is tantamount to murder. The courts might not see it that way, but I do. I want to know who was draining Montague and why.” He waved an arm around the room. “The rest of you can get off home as well. There’s not much we can do until we get more information. See you all on Monday.”
Dave stood up. “You haven’t forgotten I’ll be in late on Monday, sir? The only time the wedding organiser has free is nine o’clock, but I’ll get in as soon as I can.”
Paolo heard the whispered jibes coming from the back of the room and glanced in that direction, only to be met with a sea of innocent faces. Looking back at Dave, he saw from his pained expression that he too had heard the comments.
“That’s not a problem, Dave. You’re generally the first in and last out so being an hour or so late from time to time isn’t going to impact on your work,” he said, raising his voice so that it was certain to carry across the babble of conversations.
Dave flushed bright red. Paolo couldn’t be sure whether it was as a result of his words, or those of the idiot who’d commented on nepotism, but if he was getting sick to death of the jibes and innuendoes, and he was, how must Dave be feeling as the target of them?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The first thing Paolo noticed as he entered his flat was the absence of Jessica’s suitcase by the door. The second thing was the silence. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed that she’d left while he was away. On the one hand, some time for reflection on his own was probably a good thing; on the other hand, it would be good to get any difficult conversations out of the way as soon as possible.
He went into the kitchen and there, propped against the cafetière, was a note. He smiled. Jessica knew his first port of call on arriving home would always be the kitchen for a caffeine fix. He tore the envelope open and pulled out the contents.
Hi, I wasn’t sure how long you’d be, so I’ve decided to go over to my place. I’ll fix us dinner. See you about eight unless you’re caught up in work and can’t make it. Send me a text to let me know you’ve received this.
Love,
Jessica x
He pulled out his phone and sent her a see you later message, then went about making the coffee. As he moved around the kitchen, he tried to work out how he felt about living in another country. In truth, it wasn’t something he’d ever contemplated, so had no idea where to start. Actually, that wasn’t true. The best place to start would be to ask himself if he wanted to lose Jessica from his life. If she was determined to go, the only way to continue the relationship was by going with her.
As he poured the coffee, he wondered if making a pros and cons list would help him to sort out his thoughts, but kept coming back to the question: did he want to move country? Left to his own devices, the answer would be a resounding no. He rummaged through the drawer where he kept all the stuff that had no other home, moving aside bits of cardboard, string, scissors and sellotape. As he did so, he smiled, thinking of his childhood and Blue Peter days. He had all the items necessary to make something from one of those programmes: cardboard, string, scissors and stickyback plastic. God, life was certainly easier back then.
Eventually locating a pad and pencil, he sat down to draw up his list for and against going with Jessica. He was still sitting there half an hour later when his phone rang. So far all he’d put down were two words – the headings: Pros and Cons. Throwing down the pencil in defeat, he picked up his phone.
“Storey.”
“Hi, sir, it’s Andrea. I just wanted to let you know I couldn’t find anything on Montague’s laptop to give us any clues regarding motive, but there are files that have been deleted. Emails as well. Getting them back is beyond my capabilities, so I’m going to take the laptop into the station this afternoon. I’ve already called Mike from Leicester IT and he’s going to meet me in the office to pick it up.”
“Did he give any idea of when he’d be able to get to it?”
“Not for a few days, I’m afraid. He said they are inundated with work. It seems more crimes are planned and even executed on computers than out in the real world. That’s his words, not mine, by the way. It seems to me we get our fair share of face to face crimes committed.”
Paolo laughed. “Agreed, more than our fair share sometimes. Thanks for bringing me up to speed. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
“Will do, sir. You too.”
Paolo ended the call and thought about Andrea’s contribution to the team. She’d slipped into place so seamlessly, it felt as if she’d always been there. Dave, CC and now Andrea, he couldn’t imagine working without them.
He picked up the pencil and under Cons wrote: not being able to take my best people with me.
Paolo arrived at Jessica’s a few minutes early. He’d spent the afternoon thinking to such an extent, his head was aching. As he put the key in the lock, he thought again how close they’d become since their relationship had started and yet neither of them had suggested moving in together. They each had a key to the other’s homes, but had kept those homes separate. They hadn’t even lived together here in Bradchester, how would they manage sharing a home in a strange environment?
He sighed. That had featured heavily on the Cons side of his list.
“Hi, Jess, I’m here,” he called, using his foot to close the front door.
Following the wonderful aromas of garlic and herbs, he found Jessica in the kitchen. She’d laid the table, complete with candles already burning in their holders.
“Right on time. Good man,” she said as he kissed her cheek. “Take a seat. I’ve just got to pop this into the oven to finish off and I’ll be with you.”
Paolo pulled out a chair. “Smells divine. What are we having?”
“Smoked salmon and cream cheese parcels to start and rack of lamb for the main. For dessert I thought you could take over and make some of those delicious pancakes I had at your place a couple of months back.”
Realising they were speaking with the careful constraint that had disappeared after their first few dates, Paolo followed her choice of neutral topic to avoid bringing up the big issue, at least until after they’d eaten.
“I’ll have to see if I can get the mix right. Katy says my pancakes are either a delight or inedible.”
“Fingers crossed. So, how was your day?” she asked.
Paolo nearly burst out laughing, although tears might have been a better option. He shook his head
“This isn’t good, Jess. We’re making small talk. Skirting around the elephant.”
She sighed. “I know, but I was kind of hoping we could ignore it for a few hours.”
“Let’s do that,” he said.
By the time they were settled on the sofa with coffee, they’d slipped back into their old, more relaxed, routine. Paolo pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.
“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he said.
Jessica laughed. “No you don’t, you’d be bored to tears within a day. Climbing the walls within two and breaking down the door to escape within three.”
“Not fair,” he said. “True, but not fair to know me so well.”
Realising the moment had arrived, he pulled away a little and looked down at her.
“So, you’ve accepted the position?”
She nodded.
“When do you leave?”
/>
“Just under two months. I’m going to sell this flat fully furnished, but obviously that won’t happen before I go unless I’m really lucky. I’ll leave the key with an estate agent.”
“What about your personal effects?”
She sat up, moving out of his arms. “I’m getting in a few removal companies to give me quotes. I’ll have to be quite ruthless and only take things that really matter. I may leave some stuff here in storage, though. I can always send for it if I decide not to come back again.”
“How long is the contract for?”
“Well, initially, for two years, but open to extend indefinitely.”
Paolo stared into his coffee cup as if it would provide the answers he sought. Putting it down on the table, he turned to face Jessica.
“You’ve just said you’re not certain you won’t come back again.”
She frowned. “I know I did. How can I know for absolute certain that I’ll stay there forever when I don’t even know if I’m going to like it in Canada?”
“Jess, honey, you’re asking me to give up my life here: my job, my team, my daughter–”
“Katy won’t even be here for the first year.”
“I know. And I know you think she might stay away for longer than that, possibly forever, but there’s also a chance she’ll come back. I have to be here for her, Jessica. I’m sorry. I can’t come with you. I love this country. I know I get pissed off with it at times, but that passes. I’ve never wanted to live anywhere other than right here.”
“But you could come with me for two years, couldn’t you? I’ve looked into it, Paolo, you would love it over there. In no time at all you’d be right at the top of heap, commanding more than just a team.”
He took her hand. “I’m not that ambitious. Yes, promotion would be good, but that’s not why I joined the force. I thought you knew me better than that. I just want to catch and put away the bad guys. Lock up the ones who hurt innocent people. I don’t need to have a higher rank than the one I have right now to be able to do that.”
Tears seeped from under her closed lids and Paolo wished he could have reached a different decision, but there was no point in wishing for the impossible. He was who he was and doubted he’d ever change.
She opened her eyes and the tears fell faster. “Please, Paolo, don’t make a final decision now.”
“Jess–”
“Ssh,” she said, putting her fingers on his lips. “Don’t say anything else. I’m not leaving for another two months. Just promise me you’ll think about it. Promise!”
He nodded. “But I know–”
“Ssh,” she said again, leaning forward to kiss him. “You never know what the future might hold.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Paolo was still trying to sort out his tangled emotions three days later when he arrived to witness the post mortem of Montague Mason.
“I would offer you a penny for them,” Barbara said, “but it looks like they might be worth more than I could afford to pay.”
“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” Paolo asked, coming back to earth after following yet another carousel of images chasing each other endlessly.
“Your thoughts… I was going to offer you a penny. Oh, never mind. The moment has passed.”
Paolo was relieved. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss his situation with Barbara. He’d never mentioned her declaration of love while under the influence of anaesthetic, and neither had she, but he was pretty sure she remembered what she’d said when he went to visit her in the hospital after her operation. He’d gone to see her the day afterwards and she hadn’t been able to look him in the eye. There’d been a barrier between them ever since.
“I take it you were right about cause of death?”
Barbara shook her head. “Not exactly, although the bleach was to blame for him dying, it wasn’t the cause of death. He didn’t drink very much, but it was enough to burn his throat and mouth. What killed him was the heart attack brought on by the agony of the burns to his mouth and throat. If an ambulance had been alerted and arrived within minutes of him ingesting the bleach, he might well have survived, although with severe, and possibly permanent, damage.”
“So still recorded as suicide?”
She shrugged. “I’m going to put cardiac infarction caused by ingestion of bleach on the death certificate, but the coroner is the one who’ll make the final decision about suicide.”
***
As Paolo walked into the main office he saw Andrea deep in conversation with a man. She interrupted their conversation and called Paolo over.
“Sir, this is Mike Carnot, the IT specialist from Leicester. He’s found some interesting files and emails on Montague’s laptop.”
Paolo held out his hand for Mike to shake. “Sounds like good news for us. Would you like to take us through what you’ve found?”
With all the enthusiasm of Messiah given a roomful of potential converts to captivate, Mike started to explain the complicated process of retrieval. Paolo watched as most of the assembled faces shut down and lost interest.
“Sorry to interrupt, Mike, but most of that is going over my head. I’m sure you’ve included the route to discovery in your report but, for now, could you outline for us what you found?”
Paolo felt sorry for Mike. It was clear that the actual contents of the laptop held no interest for him; it was uncovering the secrets others had tried to erase that fascinated the IT expert.
“Yep, okay, I’ll give it to you briefly, but all the details are in there,” he said, pointing to a sheaf of papers on Andrea’s desk.
“Right, so I started with the emails, because Andrea had said it was likely the owner of this laptop was being blackmailed. I found shadows of deleted emails.”
“Shadows?” Paolo asked.
Mike looked reproachful. “Well, that was what I was explaining when you stopped me.”
Paolo nodded. “Okay, in words of one syllable for those of us not au fait with computer jargon.”
Mike sighed. “Basically, when emails are deleted they go into the deleted items folder. The next stage after that is to empty that folder, which brings up a prompt reminding you the process is irreversible. So most people think that anything permanently deleted means exactly that. They think they have covered their tracks completely.”
“But they haven’t?” Paolo prompted, to avoid another lecture when he saw the evangelical light come back into Mike’s eyes.
“Nope, not even close. If he’d reformatted his laptop, it would have been harder, but not impossible to retrieve data.”
Andrea had set up an overhead projector for Mike, which he now turned to.
“This first slide shows the initial threat of exposure, but doesn’t give any details. The sender assumes the recipient knows exactly what’s under discussion.”
Paolo stepped back from the screen to read the words.
I know where you go and what you do while you’re there.
“It appears Mr Mason ignored that first email. Perhaps he thought it was a joke, or maybe he didn’t know how to respond, but the next email contained instructions.”
He touched the switch for the image to change.
I’ve seen you at the club many times. If you don’t want the press to find out, leave £1,000 in cash behind the bins in the car park on your next regular visit.
Paolo already had a good idea where this was leading, but needed confirmation.
“Were you able to find out who sent the emails?”
Mike shook his head. “It’s a free email address. You can sign up for one of those giving any details you care to make up, but I was able to trace the IP address used to send the messages.”
Paolo smiled. “Let me guess, that led you to the Triple B Club?”
Mike looked crestfallen. “If you knew that, what was the point in me spending time on retrieval?”
“Because, until you uncovered the emails, I didn’t know Montague was a member. One thing is for sure, i
t proves there’s more going on there than a simple businessman’s meeting point. How many demands were made?”
“One a month going back over a year and a half. For the first six months he was leaving a thousand pounds at a time. Then the demands changed.” He flicked the switch several times to bring up the image he needed. “As you can see, this one is more sinister than the others.”
You really embraced the club motto, didn’t you! Bondage, Buggery, Brutality. I’ve seen you in action, you perverted bastard. Clear images with your face showing. The poor sod you’re buggering’s face is on show as well. He doesn’t look like he’s enjoying what’s being done to him. £3,000 or I’ll send the photos to the press.
“So that’s what Triple B really stands for,” Paolo said. “Bondage, buggery and brutality. No wonder Montague didn’t want this to come out. I wonder if Fletcher Simpson knows and that’s why he dropped his hint about Montague not being safe to head up the youth centre.”
Mike flicked the switch again.
Don’t believe me about the photos? Can you take that chance? You’ve got 24 hours to pay up.
“For the last six months it appears he’s been paying £3,000 each time.”
Paolo sighed. “No wonder he was selling his possessions at whatever price he could get for them. No way would he have survived the humiliation of this coming out. Did the blackmailer send any images, or just the threats and demands?”
Mike shook his head. “None that I could find. If there had been any, I’d have uncovered them. He wasn’t a very sophisticated user. Like most people, he had no idea how to cover his tracks.”
Paolo jumped in before Mike could give them all a lecture on computer privacy.
Looking For A Reason (#4 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 12