Deadly Motive

by DS Butler

  “They’re police,” Alex told Linda, raising his eyebrows. “I have to take them to see the chairman,” Alex said, pronouncing the word “chairman” in a dramatic tone.

  Linda was obviously used to dealing with students, even students as odd as Alex and she patted his arm and said, “Stop it. One day he’ll hear you.”

  Alex gave an exaggerated shudder. “Then I’ll be for it.”

  Linda sighed and gave Charlotte a look that seemed to say, “See what I have to put up with?” She told Alex she would look after the visitors and ushered him out of the room.

  Alex made to leave, but stopped and turned, as if he had suddenly remembered something. “I forgot to ask. How is Gus today?”

  “He is still at home in bed, feeling pretty wretched and sorry for himself,” Linda said. Then she looked conspiratorially at Charlotte, put a hand up to her mouth and stage-whispered, “My son. He’s got a bad case of man flu!”

  After Alex left, she turned back to them. “Sir Jim is really a nice man, but the students make him out to be terrifying. To tell you the truth, I think he quite likes it that way.”

  Linda led them out of the room full of ring binders and further down the corridor to an office labelled “CHAIRMAN: SIR JIM CARTWRIGHT.” She rapped on the door and opened it for Charlotte and Mackinnon, but didn’t go in herself, when a stern, male voice said, “Enter.”

  “DC Brown and DS Mackinnon here to see you, Sir Jim,” Linda said from behind the door as she gestured for them to go in.

  The office was light and airy. The man behind the desk, who got to his feet to greet them, didn’t look formidable at all. He was decidedly short and dressed in a brown suit and a white roll neck.

  From his neck down, he was dressed as most people might expect a professor to dress. But above the neck, his long, jet-black hair was swept back from his face and fastened in a ponytail, lending him the look of an ageing rock star rather than an academic.

  The chairman introduced himself as Sir Jim. Charlotte and Mackinnon settled into comfortable chairs in front of his large desk.

  Sitting down himself, he said, “I am pleased to see you are taking this matter so seriously. We really do appreciate all the assistance the police have given us over the last few months.”

  “You’re referring to the problems you have been having with protestors over the new animal house?” Charlotte asked.

  Sir Jim nodded. “Yes, it has been a difficult period for the university, but with the help of the police, we have filed a number of restraining orders, and the surveillance and continued police presence had, until last week, acted as an effective deterrent.”

  Sir Jim stood up, paced around the room and came to a stop behind his desk. He looked on the verge of speaking so Charlotte and Mackinnon waited. Sir Jim turned and focused on Charlotte, but said nothing.

  Finally, he pulled out his chair again and sat down, carefully crossinging his legs and making sure the creases in his trousers were straight.

  “You are here just about the break-in?” he asked.

  “We think the break-in may be linked to a current investigation…” Mackinnon said.

  Sir Jim clenched his fist on the desk. “Now, look here, I have been through this with the Thames Valley Police already. There is no link between this department and the poisoning.”

  Sir Jim narrowed his eyes and glared at Mackinnon. “I have spoken to your superiors, and I have told them about the need for discretion. I won’t have you two wandering in, intimidating my staff and students,” he said, standing up and waggling an unusually long index finger at Mackinnon.

  Charlotte angled herself to face Sir Jim. “With respect, sir, we have only spoken with the people in the lab concerned and that can’t be avoided, I’m afraid.”

  Sir Jim sighed and looked to the ceiling.

  Mackinnon stood so that Sir Jim no longer had the advantage of height. Charlotte could tell he was trying to take control of the interview.

  “What we really need to know is whether there is any indication that the lab intrusion was anything other than sabotage?”

  “Of course it was sabotage. They are just trying to stir up publicity for their cause, and you’re dancing along to their tune.”

  Sir Jim rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Look, the university has maintained an excellent relationship with the police, and they have been a tremendous help during our current difficulties. Despite that, I am not prepared to have my department dragged into this poisoning affair. We have cooperated fully with the Thames Valley investigation, but I am going to have to draw the line here. I am going to ask you to leave. I can’t have you upsetting the students and staff in this department, with your constant harassment. I have to warn you that Miss Wei was very upset over her interview, and she confided in me that she believed the police investigation had focused on her due to her nationality.”

  “Harassment? That is not the case at all, sir. We only want to ascertain whether the aconite was sourced from this department.”

  “And I have told you it was not, and still you persist in interrogating the university’s foreign students.”

  Charlotte glanced over at Mackinnon. She didn’t understand why Sir Jim was using the fact Ruby Wei was Chinese. Was he interested in protecting a young woman far away from her family? Or was he protecting her because of the money she, and other foreign students like her, brought into the university?

  Mackinnon hesitated before getting to his feet and thanking Sir Jim for his time, not even attempting to disguise the sarcasm in his voice.

  40

  Linda offered to walk them out. As they headed towards the main exit, Linda turned to Mackinnon. “I’m sorry about that – Sir Jim, I mean. I couldn’t help overhearing. He does get quite passionate about things that might affect the department.”

  “I noticed,” Mackinnon said.

  Linda looked over her shoulder and then lowered her voice to say, “There is something that could be relevant to your investigation, but I’m not sure if I should mention it because I think Sir Jim would be quite upset if I did.”

  “If you think it might be relevant, it is very important to tell us,” Mackinnon said.

  Linda nodded, but indecision played over her face.

  “Okay, I think it could be important. On the night of the break-in, someone sprayed graffiti on the east wall of the building. It’s been washed off now, but it was a message, well, a threat really, against the university because of the animal house.”

  “Why would Sir Jim want to hide that?” Mackinnon asked.

  “He wouldn’t. I mean, I’m sure he told the police handling the animal rights threats, but I thought perhaps he didn’t mention it to you because he doesn’t want to give you any further reasons to link the poisoning case with the department.”

  Linda watched Mackinnon and Charlotte for their reactions. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it. It probably isn’t relevant at all, and I’m sure in this day and age, all the information is kept on some kind of central database so you probably already knew about it anyway.”

  The truth was Thames Valley had sent over some paperwork last night, but they still didn’t have the whole story. They planned to visit Thames Valley Police headquarters after they’d finished here.

  Linda smiled. “If you wanted to see it, the CCTV footage of the graffiti artist, it’s at the police station in Kidlington, I think.”

  The three of them continued to walk into the main lobby. When they reached the reception desk, Linda wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

  “Working here can be quite unnerving with all that going on.” She looked through the huge glass walls towards the construction site.

  Charlotte followed her gaze. Maybe it was the transparent walls that made it seem like they were sitting targets, observed by anyone walking by. She thought old-fashioned, brick walls may have been more reassuring.

  “I was actually here that night too. Scary to think he could have been
just a few feet away...” Linda said.

  “What time was that?” Mackinnon asked.

  “Late. Around eleven thirty, I think. I don’t sleep well these days, and I’d left my reading glasses here, so I just popped back to get them.”

  “You live nearby?” Charlotte asked.

  “A five-minute drive, quiet at that time of night,” Linda said. “I’m sorry you found Sir Jim so difficult. He only acts that way because he cares so much about the department.”

  Charlotte forced a smile.

  As they left the building, Charlotte pulled on Mackinnon’s sleeve. “Let’s take a look around the side of the building.”

  “For the graffiti? She said the wall had been cleaned. Don’t think there will be much to see.”

  “It’s pretty tough to remove graffiti.”

  Living in London, Charlotte knew first hand that even high pressure cleaners still left behind traces of graffiti. The bin cupboard at her block of flats had traces of paint that was years old.

  They rounded the corner and saw the wall at side of the building, the only part of the building it seemed that was not made of glass. The brick wall was painted white and stood opposite the site for the new animal house. Charlotte traced her fingers along the rough brickwork, until she came to a discoloured area.

  Mackinnon put his hands in his pockets and stared at it. “There’s something there, but I can’t make it out.”

  Charlotte screwed up her eyes. “I can’t make out the letters either, presumably it was a message.”

  “The security camera is just there,” Mackinnon said, pointing to a camera fixed high on the wall.

  Charlotte followed the direction of Mackinnon’s finger. “Should have a decent view, although…” She looked around. “... There aren’t many lights around here.”

  “I better phone Brookbank and warn him about the reception we received from Sir Jim,” Mackinnon said, looking like the last thing he wanted to do was speak to the DCI.

  Charlotte looked back at the graffiti while Mackinnon spoke on his mobile. His conversation with the DCI was stilted and terse, but she knew he was right to call and warn Brookbank.

  She had a feeling Sir Jim was going to make a hell of a fuss.

  41

  The second time John Weston woke up in his hospital room, he wasn’t alone.

  He was in the same room as before, the same intense light shone down and hurt his eyes, but something was different.

  He couldn’t focus properly, but he could see them.

  A line of dark brown ants, crawling up the side of the bed and along his sheets. They made steady progress, coming closer and closer.

  Christ, this was the state of the NHS! An ant infestation. It would be cockroaches next. He needed to speak to the doctor about getting transferred to a private hospital as soon as possible.

  Oh God, they were crawling on his arms. He could feel their light, feathery feet.

  One of them bit him. He opened his mouth to scream, but the noise he produced was inaudible even to him. These weren’t normal British ants. Their bites were like fire and the intense stinging brought tears to his eyes.

  He felt another bite, tried to flinch away, but this just provoked them. He felt another clamp its tiny jaws and release its stinging poison. Then another and another, until the pain was unbearable, overwhelming, and he sank back into blackness.

  *

  Twenty minutes after speaking to Sir Jim, Mackinnon and Charlotte reached the Thames Valley Police headquarters in Kidlington.

  The police station was set back from Oxford Road and accessed by a short driveway. Behind the modern, red brick building, there was a large communications tower.

  DC Bob Tenner met Mackinnon and Charlotte in reception. He explained that the Thames Valley Police had a unit of six officers gathering intelligence and responding to all protests across the Thames Valley area.

  “How many officers are assigned to patrol the university area during the protests?” Mackinnon asked.

  “It all depends on the number of protestors expected,” Tenner said. “On the Thursday protests, the number of campaigners attending is limited by the injunction, but when marches are organised, we obviously need a larger police presence.”

  He led them through to a small viewing room, furnished with a pine table and six chairs. A computer and monitor sat on the table. Mackinnon and Charlotte waited while DC Tenner went off to retrieve the surveillance footage. After a few minutes, a woman poked her head around the door and offered them tea or coffee. They both asked for coffee.

  DC Tenner walked back into the room and held up the DVD so they could both see it. “This is the footage of the graffiti artist in action.”

  While DC Tenner was setting up the computer, Mackinnon asked him about threats made against the university. Mackinnon said he was aware that there had been arson attacks on university property, involving petrol bombs.

  “There have been threats against students and staff, too. So far, attacks have been limited to university property, but there are extremists linked to the campaign. The university has an injunction against the protestors that excludes them from the area, except during the planned weekly protests.” DC Tenner shrugged. “It helps, and in theory, minimizes the risk.”

  “Do you think John Weston’s poisoning could be down to these extremists?” Charlotte asked.

  DC Tenner slid the DVD into a slot in the computer. “Possibly, but why Weston? Why not a member of the university?”

  “Well, he was linked to it. He’s the money man behind a few different research projects at the university, and he’s an investor in this new animal house.”

  DC Tenner thought about this for a moment. “Like I said, it’s possible. I’ve spoken with your DI. Tyler, isn’t it?”

  Mackinnon nodded.

  “I’ve given him a few names and information on groups it might be worth looking at. I wouldn’t rule it out, that’s for sure. You know, I don’t think Weston was very popular at the university. You might want to look into that, too.”

  “We heard there were a few unsatisfied researchers. People whose projects he refused to fund,” Mackinnon said.

  “Yes. Sour grapes, maybe. We had one of the academics come in once, wanting to press charges. God knows what he expected us to do about it, but he said Weston had promised him funding, then changed his mind.”

  “Nothing wrong with changing his mind.”

  “Maybe, but he was furious. O’Connor his name was. He was just starting up a new company. He accused Weston of overruling the other investors.”

  “When was this?”

  “Few months back. October I think it was. I sent the details over to your DI. But it wasn’t just O’Connor, he annoyed a lot of people at the university. Thankfully, they don’t all come running to us, but you hear things.”

  The computer screen flickered into action. Both Mackinnon and Charlotte edged forward to take a closer look. The image was grainy and the area around the wall badly lit.

  “I thought the lighting could be a problem. I doubt we’ll get much from this. The angle is not great either,” Charlotte said.

  DC Tenner smiled and rocked back on his heels. “Just keep watching.”

  On the screen, a shadowy figure appeared. He wore a hooded sweatshirt, with the hood pulled forward to cover his face, and he kept his back to the camera.

  “He knows where the cameras are; that much is obvious,” Mackinnon said.

  As the figure began to spray paint on the wall, Mackinnon leaned further forward. “We can see a bit of his profile here, maybe we could get it enhanced.”

  Tenner didn’t say anything; he just kept smiling.

  The figure on the screen stepped back and raised his head as if to admire his artwork. As he did so, the hood dropped back, exposing his head, and as he grabbed for it, he turned to face the camera, with a look of shock on his face.

  Tenner pressed the pause button. “What a silly bugger, eh? After all that effort, he
goes and shows us every detail of his ugly mug.”

  Mackinnon laughed.

  “It’s a good picture, but we haven’t been able to identify him yet,” Tenner said. “We have information on and photographs of the key players, ones who have caused trouble before, but we’ve got nothing on this guy. He must have kept his nose clean so far.”

  “What about known protestors on file from other parts of the country?” Mackinnon asked.

  “We’re trying. If he had a record, it would make it easier. We want to identify him too because, as you know, that break-in happened around the same time. He could be involved.”

  Mackinnon put his coffee cup down. “Even if he wasn’t involved, maybe he saw something. Have you asked anyone at the university department if they recognize him?”

  “So far, we have given a freeze frame image to both Oxford University and to Oxford Brookes University and they are searching their student records for a match, but nothing so far.”

  DC Tenner pressed “play” on the tape, and they watched as the graffiti artist pulled the hood back over his face. Another figure emerged from the side door of the chemistry department, and the graffiti artist reacted by backing up against the wall.

  Charlotte moved closer to the screen. “That’s Ruby Wei coming out now, isn’t it? And look, he has seen her and he’s hiding. Have you shown her the tape?”

  Tenner shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Do you mind if we do?”

  Tenner grimaced. “Sir Jim has contacts pretty high up in the Met. You should watch yourself on this one.”

  Mackinnon suspected as much. During his phone call to Brookbank earlier, he had been given a pep talk and was basically told to suck up to Sir Jim.

  “It shouldn’t matter if he has contacts,” Charlotte said. “If there’s a chance she might know the graffiti artist, we should show her the footage.”

  “I’ll give you a copy of the footage. What you do with it…” DC Tenner shrugged. “Well, that is your business.”

  42

  Mackinnon took a call on his mobile as they were leaving Kidlington station. From the general gist of the conversation, Charlotte understood it was some kind of family trouble.