by DS Butler
“Sorry to turn up unannounced like this, but we had a few more questions,” Charlotte said.
O’Connor nodded vaguely, still looking preoccupied, and Mackinnon slouched down into his chair, glaring at O’Connor.
“Last time we talked to you about John Weston and the aconite project,” Charlotte said.
O’Connor nodded, his eyes still fixed on the papers on his desk.
“I hope you weren’t in the middle of something important,” Charlotte said, nodding to the papers.
O’Connor’s eyes widened. “No, just some paperwork. It’ll keep.”
Charlotte glanced at Mackinnon, but he didn’t look very interested and was making good on his promise to be “decoration.”
O’Connor leaned forward, his dark eyes fixed on Charlotte. “I suppose you have found out by now what killed him?”
It wasn’t so much what he said, but the way he said it. The comment got to Mackinnon, too. Although Charlotte didn’t turn, from the corner of her eye, she saw him sit up in his chair.
“Are you implying you already knew what killed him, Dr. O’Connor? Do you know something we don’t?” Mackinnon asked.
O’Connor ran a hand through his dark hair, bowed his head and chuckled to himself. “I think there’s a good chance I know a number of things you don’t, sergeant.”
Charlotte sensed the atmosphere in the room had dropped a few degrees. “Dr. O’Connor?”
“Please call me Declan.”
“Right. Declan, you have a responsibility to tell us any information you have, regarding the death of John Weston.”
“Yes, yes of course. I’m quite willing to answer your questions.” He waved her words away and then smiled. “Sorry. After your interest in our aconite project, I just put two and two together.”
“Would anyone else at the university have access to the aconite?”
O’Connor frowned. “Yes. I suppose anyone with access to the freezers. And you can order the aconite compound from chemical companies like Sigma. I suppose you have already checked to see if anyone else ordered any?”
Charlotte nodded. “The only record of anyone ordering aconite was the order you made, six months ago.”
“The killer wouldn’t need to have a background in science, you know.” O’Connor nodded at Mackinnon. “Even he could have done it.”
O’Connor smiled at Charlotte as if they were sharing a private joke.
“Declan…” Mackinnon began.
O’Connor turned to face Mackinnon, the smile gone from his face. “You can call me Dr. O’Connor.”
Charlotte tried to rescue the situation by asking O’Connor if he knew anyone else who may have had a grudge against John Weston, but he said other than animal rights activists, he couldn’t think of anyone. She could sense Mackinnon was at boiling point by her side.
As they stood to leave, Charlotte placed her handbag on top of O’Connor’s desk and held out her hand for him to shake.
“Thank you for your time. We appreciate it,” she said.
Mackinnon gave O’Connor a curt nod.
As they moved away from the desk, Charlotte pulled her handbag from the desk and knocked a couple of the papers onto the ground in front of her. Before O’Connor could get around the desk, she knelt to pick them up and scanned them quickly.
She read the word, Biosphere, the name of John Weston’s company, and saw the names, Ruby Wei and Alex Rush. Before she could read more, O’Connor knelt by her side and put a hand on hers as she reached for another sheet.
“Please, don’t worry. I’ll get them,” he said.
He was close enough for her to smell a trace of his aftershave, fresh and oddly minty. He knew she had done it on purpose, but he smiled as she stood up.
His eyes were dark as he accepted her apology for her “clumsiness.”
66
Ruby rubbed her eyes. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t concentrate on this presentation with everything going on. Her work had been disrupted, and she had been questioned by the police, all because of that stupid article. She should have realised she was being manipulated by that journalist. She felt stupid now.
With a sigh, she shut down her laptop. Alex left early and Gus hadn’t been around much today. They would probably cancel the symposium now anyway, so it was pointless working late.
When it came down to it, this whole thing was the journalist’s fault. She rummaged in her bag for her wallet and pulled out the card the journalist had given her when they met at the Turf Tavern.
Without thinking it through, she pulled out her mobile and dialled his number. If she caught him off guard, she might be able to get him to tell her the truth.
When he answered, she almost put the phone down. What was she going to say?
She deserved an explanation. After all, he had just used her for a story and lied to her.
“Mr. Barrett, this is Ruby Wei.”
She heard him inhale on the other end of the line. “Miss Wei, I’ve been meaning to get in touch.”
“Me too, only I’ve been a little busy, what with being interviewed by the police over your article.” Careful, she warned herself, you don’t want him to hang up.
“Ah, I’m sorry. They questioned you too, did they?”
“You lied. You didn’t even tell me what the article was about.”
“I’m sorry, I thought the less you knew, the better, for your sake.”
“How noble of you.”
Sean Barrett was silent.
Ruby gripped the phone. “So tell me, what is it all about? Who was targeting John Weston? And who left the note?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Don’t give me that. I’m not an idiot, despite what you may think after I fell for your line about the science writing competition.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Ruby thought he hung up.
“I’m serious. I don’t know who left the note,” he said.
“Maybe you’re just making it up to get yourself a nice juicy story?”
Sean gave a humourless laugh. “I wish I was. It seemed like a godsend at first; now it’s just plain creepy, especially as I gave one of them my email address.”
“What do you mean?” Ruby asked. “Who did you give your email address to?”
“One of those animal rights protestors. The police are trying to trace who it was. He gave me some info on Weston and told me your lab used aconite.”
“You really think the poison came from my lab? You’re not making it up to get a bit of publicity?”
“Look, I’m not even going to publish this. It is just as likely to be your professor trying to get publicity for his work, generate some interest, maybe an increase in funding?”
“That’s ridiculous. What did the email say? Did it say aconite came from our lab?”
“It didn’t state that the poison was from your lab, but the email implied that it was because of the work on the new animal house.”
“God.”
“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“No, probably not.”
“Well, don’t say you heard it from me, okay?”
“Okay,” Ruby said, but the line had already gone dead.
67
One of the oldest pubs in Oxford, The Bear stood on the corner of Blue Boar Street and Alfred Street. Inside, there weren’t many seats and people were sitting outside, on wooden benches, despite the chill.
The walls and ceiling of the bar were covered with bits of ties that had been cut off from various visitors over the years. The tie collection started in the fifties and the cuttings were displayed in glass-fronted frames, some yellowed with age.
Mackinnon and Charlotte were lucky enough to catch a table inside just as the previous occupants were leaving. They had missed lunch, but the pub served food all day, and Charlotte insisted she buy whatever Mackinnon wanted on the menu. He decided on steak and kidney pie and Charlotte went to the bar to place th
eir order.
Mackinnon watched her as she chatted to the guy serving. In some ways, she seemed the same. She still had the same tilt of the chin when she was feeling stubborn. She wore the same heavy-handed eyeliner.
Charlotte returned from the bar with an orange juice for her and a pint for Mackinnon.
“Cheers,” Mackinnon said.
They spoke about the case for a while, mainly bitching about Dr. O’Connor. The food arrived. Steak and kidney pie for Mackinnon and a pasta dish for Charlotte. After they finished analysing O’Connor’s shifty eyes, Charlotte seemed relaxed, so Mackinnon decided to chance his luck.
“Are you really okay? Nothing bothering you?”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Don’t you ever give up?”
“No,” he smiled, aiming for reassurance. “I’ve not changed much in the last eight years. Still a stubborn bastard.”
“You got that right. But you forgot annoying.”
“Right. Annoying, stubborn bastard then. Better?”
She smiled. “Better. Anyway, I’m fine now. There was something a couple of months ago, but I’m past it.”
“You aren’t.”
“Excuse me?”
Mackinnon, fully aware of the brittle tone of Charlotte’s voice, paused and swallowed a mouthful of beer.
“You’re still worried about something. Look, I just want to help, not gossip. I take it we’re past all the backstabbing accusations.”
“I said I was sorry about that.”
“Right, and I have just about forgiven you. But you don’t seem relaxed.”
“We’re in the middle of a murder investigation. It would be weird if I was relaxed.”
Mackinnon shook his head. “I don’t mean like that. You seem scared all the time. Like you’re expecting something to jump out at you.”
Charlotte stared down at her drink. “I was on my own. He ran, and I chased.” She looked up at him. “What else did you expect me to do?”
“There you go again.”
“What?”
“Getting all defensive about losing Ted Sanders. I didn’t say you did anything wrong. Or that I could have done any better. I just don’t like seeing you so on edge. You could talk to me. It might help.”
“It wouldn’t. Look, Jack, it isn’t anything to do with work. It’s personal.” She took a breath, gulped another mouthful of orange juice, then said, “My ex took a swing at me. I left him. End of.”
Mackinnon struggled to keep his expression blank. From the look on Charlotte’s face, he could tell he hadn’t succeeded.
“I left him. It’s over.”
“Has he been hassling you?”
“Not really.”
“Not really?” Mackinnon raised his voice.
“No, he hasn’t. I just got a bit paranoid, that’s all. He returned a CD. I got a bit creeped out that he let himself into my flat, but I got the locks changed. Everything’s fine now.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t want to. It is over. It’s finished.”
“But DCI Brookbank knows? And the superintendent?”
“They know I had personal problems and... well, that’s why I can’t do overtime.”
“Didn’t you report him?”
It was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes narrowed.
“Don’t you dare judge me, Jack.”
Mackinnon held up his hands. “Okay, okay... I’m sorry. I’m not judging you.”
Charlotte pushed her plate to the side. “If I had reported him, it would have been a circus. My word against his.”
Mackinnon bit back his response. It wouldn’t be helpful to say the man deserved to have his career ruined, or mention the possibility of him doing it again to her or someone else.
“I just want to forget Wayne and move on.”
Mackinnon nodded. “Okay, sorry I pressured you to tell me. Going through that... it’s enough to make anyone…”
Charlotte interrupted. “I swear, if you say jumpy one more time... Anyway, it isn’t that I’m scared of him. I’m more scared that my judgement is screwed up. I really trusted him. I didn’t see it coming.”
“How could you?”
Charlotte pulled a face. “Instinct? I have to face the fact my judgement is pretty screwed up not to see him for what he was.”
“It’s not you. People like that are devious, they hide their true personality. It won’t happen again. It was a one off.”
Charlotte drained her glass and nodded, but she thought: What if it wasn’t?
68
Ruby sat forward on the grey seat, leaning her head on the metal bar of the seat in front. She watched people getting on and off the bus. A lady with too many bags pulled at her too small raincoat, and an apologetic young man received a sharp look when his umbrella dripped onto his neighbour’s skirt.
An elderly lady, wearing a transparent rain cap, caught her eye and smiled, and made Ruby feel like crying.
Ruby exited the warm protection of the bus when it reached Woodstock. The town was quieter than usual, due to the rain. A couple exited the Duke of Wellington pub just in front of her, holding jackets over their heads, laughing at the rain and running for the bus.
When she reached her house on Rectory Lane, she shut the door, paused and listened for any foreign sounds, but she was greeted by silence. She switched on the light, while considering why animals are calm when blindfolded, in darkness; whereas, humans are comforted by light even as adults.
She decided to sleep with the light on tonight.
Sitting on the bed, Ruby held DC Brown’s card in her hand. It was damp from the rain, but the mobile number was still readable. She put it on her bedside cabinet, so if she needed it, there would be no need to fumble through her pockets or bag.
Despite her nervousness, she began to drift off almost as soon as she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes.
Less than an hour later, she was awoken by a strange noise.
She lay rigid on the bed, not sure if the noise had been part of a dream.
The sound was repeated, and she inched herself off the bed, cringing at every creak of the mattress, and crept across to the bedroom door.
The third time the noise was louder and recognizable.
Cats.
She opened the bedroom curtains, and illuminated in the light from her bedroom, were a tabby and black cat, engaged in fierce combat, a tumble of fur. As if they sensed her eyes on them, they drew apart, turned to look at her, then resumed circling each other.
Ruby felt her hand tremble as she pulled the curtains shut. Leaning against the radiator, she welcomed the heat and took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves.
She thought she would feel much safer if she weren’t a sitting target and around other people. She pulled an overnight bag off the top of her wardrobe and filled it with a change of clothes, pyjamas, toothbrush and makeup bag.
It was a cold night. The rain clouds had blown away and the sky was filled with stars. Rectory Lane was not well lit, and the lack of streetlights made her imagine that something lurked in the shadows, waiting to pounce.
She walked in the centre of the road, keeping clear of the dark shadows and puddles that lined the kerb.
At the bottom of Rectory Lane, she crossed the road, passed the benches next to the war memorial and walked towards the high street. At the corner before she reached the King’s Arms, she turned left and saw the warm lights of the Feather’s Hotel.
The hotel was busy. Tonight was the weekly sausage and mash supper club. The chatter and atmosphere in the hotel instantly had an effect and she felt some of the tension fade.
A parrot in a cage in the reception squawked a “Hello” and added to the surreal feeling swimming around her mind.
Ruby booked a room, then went to the bar and ordered a whiskey, giddy with relief, happy to be around other people. She took a couple of large mouthfuls and tried to concentrate on the problem.
Was the journalist
right? Was John Weston poisoned with the toxin from her lab?
At first, she really thought it was a hoax.
A thought occurred to her that made her shiver, despite the warmth of the room.
O’Connor’s samples. She had checked the original samples of aconite, the ones mentioned in her research paper. But she hadn’t checked the dilutions O’Connor had given her. The ones she hadn’t been able to get to work properly. She had left them in the minus-eighty-degree freezer because O’Connor told her he checked them and all the samples were present and correct.
Besides, O’Connor’s samples were diluted and contained only small amounts of the aconite. Surely not enough toxin to hurt anyone, but how much aconite was enough to kill?
The question made her feel sick to the stomach; what if he hadn’t checked the samples properly? She had diluted and aliquoted out the stock O’Connor had given her so Alex may not have known to look for the dilutions. Why hadn’t she checked O’Connor’s samples herself?
Ruby ordered another whiskey, but she couldn’t settle, not until she knew whether the aconite samples were still in the freezer where she left them.
Feeling a little more confident after her second drink, she decided to go to the lab.
Without giving herself time to think herself out of it, she headed out.
69
As the motion-sensing lights of the lab flickered into action and her footsteps echoed on the floor, Ruby thought perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea. There was no one else around.
The laboratories were deserted.
Trying to put her fears to the back of her mind, she headed to the freezer room.
The room was empty. Ruby paused in the doorway to make certain she was alone. The only sound was the humming from the refrigeration units on the minus-eighty-degree freezers.
The familiar sound was reassuring. She pulled opened the heavy freezer door and hesitated for a moment, deciding whether to wear the protective gloves. But the gloves were bulky and would just be a hindrance, doubling the time the freezer was open.
The samples from the freezer were so cold that the tips of her fingers could not determine whether they were exposed to extreme cold or heat, but she was accustomed to the slight burn and flicked through the vials with practiced dexterity. The freezing samples only touched her fingers for the briefest moment.