Deadly Motive

by DS Butler

  Ruby leaned back. “Nothing that will help you.”

  “Did you know Gus’ father?”

  Ruby stared down at the paper napkin in her lap. “I never met his dad.”

  “Does Gus ever speak about him?” Mackinnon asked.

  Ruby waved the waitress over and asked for the bill. “I’m sorry, but you really need to talk to Gus about this, not me.”

  76

  As soon as they entered the incident room, Charlotte sensed something big had happened. She looked at Mackinnon, but he just shrugged. DC Webb spotted them and made his way over to them, holding a collection of papers.

  “Development?” Mackinnon asked Webb.

  Webb nodded. “Yeah, a big one. The computer analysts have been going over the hard drive of Weston’s computer and they found emails from Gus Gilmore. And they are not very nice emails.”

  “Here,” DC Webb said, passing the papers to Charlotte. “There’s some of the recent ones. Pretty malicious stuff.”

  Charlotte flipped through the papers, which were printouts of emails from Gus Gilmore to John Weston.

  “They’re getting a warrant, then DI Tyler’s going to bring him in,” DC Webb said.

  Mackinnon sighed and walked away.

  Charlotte looked up from the emails. “Jesus.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” DC Webb said. “It’s always the quiet ones.” He whistled and walked back to his desk.

  Charlotte stayed where she was, reading the emails, until Mackinnon walked back over to join her.

  “Come on let’s go,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “DI Tyler wants us to keep an eye on Gus Gilmore until he gets there with the warrant,” Mackinnon said. “Did you read the emails? Were they about the animal house?”

  “No. They were personal.”

  “How?”

  “They were threatening. Gus obviously knew John Weston well. Well enough to hate him.”

  77

  Mackinnon and Charlotte reached the Gilmore residence at four, ahead of DI Tyler. It was darker than usual for that time of day, due to the heavy rain clouds rolling in. They parked behind Linda Gilmore’s Ford Ka on the driveway.

  Mackinnon peered inside the blue car as they walked towards the house. A brown MacDonald’s takeaway bag, a yellow flier for Bob’s Fried Chicken and a Costa coffee cup lay crumpled and discarded in the passenger foot well.

  Before they had a chance to knock, the front door was opened by Linda. A smile hesitated around the corners of her mouth.

  “Hello again,” she said.

  “May we come in, Mrs. Gilmore?” Charlotte smiled. “We’ve come to have a word with Gus again.”

  She moved aside and gestured them in. “I am afraid he isn’t here at the moment, but he shouldn’t be long. He just nipped to the shop to get some milk, so I’m afraid I can’t offer you tea or coffee, unless you’d like it black?”

  “No thanks, we’re fine, but we’ll wait for him here, if that’s okay,” Mackinnon said.

  “Of course, please come through to the sitting room and have a seat.”

  Mackinnon and Charlotte followed her into the small room.

  Mackinnon cleared his throat. “Mrs. Gilmore, perhaps we could ask you a few questions while we wait?”

  Linda’s eyes flickered to the door before she nodded.

  “I hope you don’t feel we’re being insensitive, but I’d like to ask you some questions about your husband,” Mackinnon said.

  “My husband?” Her eyes fixed on the collection of photographs on the mantelpiece.

  Charlotte stood and picked up a silver framed photograph of a middle-aged man smiling at whoever was behind the camera. “Is this him?”

  “Yes, that’s Derek.” Linda smiled. “It was taken before, when he was still able to play with the boys. They used to play wrestle in here.” She gazed at the floor as if she could see them.

  Linda made her way to the mantelpiece and picked up another photograph. She held it out to Charlotte. “This is Gus and Greg, Christmas, 1995.”

  Charlotte stared at the two boys. Happy faces, surrounded by mounds of wrapping paper; it was difficult to imagine this immaculate room full of mess and laughter.

  “My husband died and my boy Greg...” The last words were smothered in a sob and she held her hand over her mouth.

  Charlotte felt sick, suffocated by the woman’s grief. She didn’t want to know the rest of the story.

  “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Gilmore,” she said.

  Sorry for her loss? Sorry for intruding? Sorry for the fact they would soon arrest her son? Or all of the above.

  Linda took a deep breath to steady herself. “It was a few years ago, Huntington’s disease. Do you know what that is, officer?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  “I’ve heard of it,” Mackinnon said.

  “It’s such a horrible disease. I watched him slowly degenerate. Then when Greg fell ill...He was so young...” She looked toward the mantelpiece. “Greg was only sixteen, too young,” she whispered.

  Charlotte saw Mackinnon delving in his pocket, probably searching for another Rennie. “I’m sorry to reawaken all of these bad memories for you, Mrs. Gilmore,” Mackinnon said. “But I’d like to ask how your husband knew John Weston?”

  Linda looked up and wiped away a tear. “John Weston? They were at university together. They were good friends.”

  “You didn’t tell us that when we spoke to you the first time, when you told us about the CCTV footage of the graffiti,” Mackinnon said. “Why didn’t you mention you knew him?”

  Linda put a hand to her throat, and her fingers found her gold chain. “I didn’t think it was important.”

  “Have you or your son been in touch with him recently?” Charlotte asked.

  Linda stared at her, hands clasped in her lap. “No, we lost touch with John after my husband died. It was too difficult when we saw each other. It made it harder to move on.”

  “And to your knowledge, Gus has not had any contact with John Weston, either?” Mackinnon said.

  “No, he hasn’t.” The realisation that they were interested in Gus’ relationship with Weston seemed to sink in slowly. “Gus had nothing to do with his death.”

  Mackinnon and Charlotte didn’t reply straight away. They waited for her to continue.

  “I knew John had been threatened in the past, by animal rights extremists, but I never expected him to be targeted like this.”

  “I noticed your car on the driveway – quite new, isn’t it?” Mackinnon said.

  Linda frowned, apparently thrown by the subject change. “I bought it six months ago.”

  “It must be quiet annoying when Gus takes it out and leaves all those food wrappers in it. I’m not looking forward to when my teenagers want to borrow my car,” Mackinnon said.

  Mackinnon smiled, turning on the charm. He was talking about Chloe’s girls. Trying to gain common ground and get her to confide in him. But Charlotte wasn’t convinced it would work. Mackinnon didn’t look old enough to be the father of teenagers.

  Linda shook her head. “I do nag him, but it never seems to work. But we got that car so Gus could drive it as well, without the insurance being astronomical.”

  After a moment’s pause, Mackinnon moved forward and spread out a few of the printed emails on the coffee table. “These were found on Weston’s computer. They’re emails from Gus to John Weston; the most recent is just two months ago.”

  Linda picked up one of the emails.

  Mackinnon continued, “As you can see, they’re not very friendly. In some cases, the emails are threatening. Do you know why Gus would be sending these?”

  Linda’s shoulders slumped, and she dropped the printed copy of an email in her lap. She looked at Mackinnon and Charlotte in turn. Her eyes were rimmed with red. She picked up another email and read it, followed by another.

  Mackinnon and Charlotte sat in silence.

  Finally, after reading the last email, she repl
aced them on the coffee table. “Excuse me for a moment?” She left the room.

  Charlotte looked at Mackinnon, he shrugged and waited. The telltale sound of retching sated any curiosity they may have had over what was occupying Linda.

  Charlotte put her head in her hands. Her curiosity extinguished. She wished she were back at the station.

  A glance to Mackinnon’s solid face told her he was not as affected by this as she was.

  She hated this, entering someone’s home and turning their world upside down. Back in the incident room, she had been objective, detached, like looking at an object under the microscope. Now, in this room it was real. And it was affecting Linda Gilmore enough to make her vomit, while she just sat here, waiting.

  Mackinnon’s phone beeped. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the screen and rolled his eyes. “Not again.” He sighed and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

  “Problems?”

  “Sarah came home, but now she’s run off again. Chloe’s ringing around trying to track her down.”

  “Does she run off often?”

  Mackinnon nodded. “Yeah. Every five minutes it seems like. Kids, eh?”

  Linda returned, closing the door behind her. Her face was pale, and her eyes were bloodshot. Her eyes met with Charlotte’s.

  “I didn’t know about this. If I had, I would have put a stop to it. You must understand that Gus was very close to his father.”

  Charlotte couldn’t pull her eyes away, even when Linda looked back down at the emails on the table.

  “He was very angry after his father died. I suppose he wanted to blame someone. Gus thought that John had betrayed his father. You see, John stopped visiting us during those final months.”

  Linda turned the emails face down on the table, as if she could block them out. “Not that I blame John, though. If I could have avoided seeing my husband suffering like that, if I could have blocked it out like he did, I would have. But of course, Gus and I couldn’t do that. We were part of it. Every day, we were part of it.”

  Linda clasped her hands together in an effort to stop her hands shaking and set them on her lap. “I don’t mean I would have left Derek, of course not. He was at home, until the last infection.”

  Linda hesitated. Charlotte felt she should say something, but she had nothing.

  Linda smiled at her, as though she understood. “Well, John stopped visiting at the end. He did come to the funeral, though. It wasn’t until then that I realized how hurt and angry Gus felt. There was a scene at the crematorium, just some heated words, but John didn’t come back here afterwards. I haven’t spoken to him since then, I just found it too difficult.” She looked up. “I won’t get the chance now.”

  “This must be extremely difficult for you, but it’s really very helpful. Did you speak to Gus about it?” Mackinnon asked.

  “About the argument at the crematorium? Well, no, I don’t think I did. We had other things to worry about then. You see, Greg was diagnosed shortly before my husband, Derek, died.” She shook her head. “I didn’t tell him, of course. He died believing both his boys were in the clear. That they had beaten the odds.” She gave a low laugh, tinged with sadness. “That they’d won the genetic lottery.”

  Mackinnon pulled at his collar; he must be feeling the heat too. The central heating in the house must be on maximum.

  Charlotte cleared her throat. She felt sick, but something compelled her to ask. “Mrs. Gilmore, has Gus been tested?”

  Charlotte could feel Mackinnon’s eyes on her, but she ignored him, focused solely on Linda.

  Linda looked as if Charlotte had hit her. She shook her head. “He hasn’t had the test yet. He doesn’t want to know. It’s his decision.”

  Charlotte saw a movement outside the window.

  Mackinnon stood up. “It’s Gus.”

  78

  They waited for him in the stuffy room.

  “Mum, I’ve got the milk. There’s a car parked outside. Did you…” Gus broke off mid-sentence as he entered the room and saw Charlotte and Mackinnon.

  He looked at his mother. “Mum what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  He sat beside her on the sofa and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her toward him.

  She gestured to the printouts on the table. “They’ve come about the emails you sent to John Weston.”

  Charlotte watched Gus’ reaction. She knew Mackinnon would be scrutinizing Gus too, watching his body language.

  Gus leaned forward and picked up one of the emails. “It’s okay, Mum, he can’t press charges. He’s dead. Not that he would have done anyway. Everything I said was true and he knew it.” He glared at Charlotte and Mackinnon. “Well, he didn’t press charges, did he?”

  Linda took Gus’ face in her hands and turned him to face her. “Oh, Gus.”

  “Look, Gus, you’re not stupid,” Mackinnon said. “You know how this looks. You sent John Weston threatening emails, and now…”

  Gus got to his feet. He was tall, nearly as tall as Mackinnon. “Of course I know how it looks. That’s why I didn’t tell you that I knew him. I knew how it would look.”

  “It looks worse now,” Mackinnon said.

  “I didn’t kill him.”

  “Then why all emails? This one, and I quote, ‘Scum like you don’t deserve to live.’”

  “I was angry. I wanted to make him feel bad.”

  “Why?”

  “He betrayed us. Betrayed all of us.”

  “How?

  Linda began to cry. Her body jolted with sobs. Gus sat back down next to her and took her hand.

  “Oh, Mum, please, it’s okay. I didn’t kill him, you know that.”

  “Of course I do!”

  Gus squeezed her hand and then stood up. “Could you give us a moment? I need to…”

  Charlotte stood up, grateful for the opportunity to get outside. She felt nauseous and the temperature of this room wasn’t helping. Mackinnon followed her outside after quietly speaking to Gus.

  Once outside the front door, Charlotte took several deep breaths of the cold spring air. Through the window, she saw Gus help his mother to her feet and guide her out of the room. Mackinnon joined her outside and asked her if she was okay. Charlotte just shrugged.

  They remained by the front door in silence until they heard Gus’ padded footsteps coming down the stairs.

  Mackinnon walked back inside first. “Is your mother all right?”

  “Not really, no,” Gus said. “She has taken one of her tablets.”

  “I’m afraid this is a very serious situation, Gus. You’re going to be arrested and taken to London for questioning. Is there anyone who can stay with your mother?” Mackinnon asked.

  He shook his head. “She won’t wake up until tomorrow morning. I’ll leave her a note.”

  Mackinnon nodded and walked past Charlotte out into the front garden.

  Charlotte followed Gus through to the kitchen.

  He held a pen and notepad. He looked at her and gave a hollow laugh. “What do I write?”

  Gus looked up and studied Charlotte’s face, then said, “I sent the emails. I have been for ages. I can’t really tell you why. It just made me feel better. I stopped two months ago.” He shrugged. “I wanted to move on. But I hadn’t forgiven him. I couldn’t.”

  “You were angry with him for not visiting your father?”

  Gus narrowed his eyes. “It was slightly more than that!”

  “What then?”

  Gus shook his head. “You make me sound pathetic. You don’t know what he did.”

  “So tell me.”

  Gus sat down at the kitchen table and gestured for Charlotte to do the same. “At first, I was angry he stopped visiting. I thought it was a cop-out, and then even after Dad died, he didn’t get in touch. That hurt, our families had been close, spent every Sunday together for as long as I can remember. And then he banned his son, Josh, from talking to me at school. Can you believe it? Like he thought he might catch someth
ing?” Gus put his head in his hands.

  “What made you write the first email?” Charlotte stood up and looked out of the kitchen window.

  Gus looked up at her through his long, wavy, brown hair. His eyes narrowed again. “Greg was sick. My father, his supposed best friend, had died of Huntington’s disease, and I read that he was campaigning to withdraw funding from rare genetic diseases.” He made quotation marks with his fingers. “To fund research on diseases that have a greater economic impact. Of course, he didn’t name Huntington’s specifically, but I knew what he meant. My brother’s dying and he...” Gus broke off and looked up at the ceiling, blinking.

  Charlotte sat back down at the kitchen table. “I understand…”

  Mackinnon chose that moment to walk through into the kitchen and shot Charlotte a warning look. “They’re here; you ready?”

  Gus nodded and got to his feet “I’ll just check on Mum.”

  As soon as Gus left the room, Mackinnon turned to Charlotte. “What was all that about?” But he turned and headed back outside without waiting for an answer.

  Charlotte watched Mackinnon open the door to DI Tyler and DC Leonard.

  DI Tyler, the only one Charlotte could see clearly, spoke first. “Where is he then?”

  Charlotte stalked down the corridor. “He’s upstairs, checking on his mother.”

  Mackinnon stepped outside, closing the door slightly behind him.

  Charlotte stayed by the front door, she wanted to escape this oppressive house, but she didn’t want to talk to Mackinnon or DI Tyler. Just yesterday, she’d been feeling so much better. Confident. More like her old self. And now this, a lovely example of just how screwed up her judgement could be.

  All right, you couldn’t tell someone was a cold-blooded murderer just from looking at them, but Gus? She just couldn’t believe he had it in him.

  Gus came down the stairs. He had obviously just splashed water on his face. His hair, now damp, curled around his face making him appear younger, somehow. He nodded in the direction of Mackinnon and DI Tyler who could still be seen through the narrow opening of the door.

  “Time to go?” His hand trembled as he reached for his coat.