by DS Butler
Helen shrugged. “No idea.”
Collins took a sip of his own coffee. Perhaps Mark Fleming’s mistress got fed up with waiting…
“I suppose you’re going to look into his personal life now, aren’t you? You’ll find all sorts of things.”
Collins nodded. “We need to do that to find out who killed him.”
Helen nodded. “I see,” she said.
Collins didn’t want to say any more, but he knew the Met officers were already all over Mark Fleming’s personal correspondence. They had his computer and his phone, and they’d found out he was indeed having an affair, with a woman called Lia Gold.
It was a hell of a thing to get over after finding her boyfriend’s body like that, but Collins hoped Helen would be all right.
She seemed like a strong woman underneath the shock, and she definitely didn’t deserve to be treated the way Mark Fleming had treated her.
Collins hoped Helen Rooke could eventually get over this, find herself some happiness and meet someone who deserved her. Because Mark Fleming certainly hadn’t.
29
“HER NAME IS ERIKA Darago,” Charlotte said, passing Mackinnon the file. They stood by the vending machines on the second floor of Wood Street Station.
“Is she definitely involved?”
Charlotte nodded. “If you ask me, she’s in it up to her neck.”
“Have they tracked down the boy yet?” Mackinnon asked, feeding a pound coin into the machine.
Charlotte shook her head. She was getting really worried about Alfie.
“No,” she said and sighed. “He’s only twelve. He’s a friend of Francis. Can you imagine how scared he must be right now? Rosialie has spoken to Francis’s parents just in case Alfie goes to them.
“We’ve got an alert out for him, so if any units spot him, they’ll contact us straight away. And I’ve called social services.”
Mackinnon nodded. “Has Erika Darago said anything?”
“She’s been saying a whole lot of things,” Charlotte said. “Mainly just mouthing off. Tyler’s leaving her to cool down at the moment. He’s going in for a second round soon. I’m not sure who he wants in there with him, but it’s certainly not me. The lovely Erika is after my blood.”
Mackinnon nodded and unwrapped a chocolate bar, offering a piece to Charlotte.
She turned him down. Charlotte must be worried. He’d never known her to turn down chocolate before.
Mackinnon left Charlotte on the second floor and went in search of DI Tyler. He found Tyler in the incident room, his head bent over the desk, furiously scribbling on a piece of paper.
“What’s she told us so far?” Mackinnon asked.
Tyler looked up and exhaled deeply. “She has said she doesn’t know the identity of our Mr. X. According to Erika Darago, she leaves notes for him in a mailbox in an abandoned office building. That’s how they communicate. She’s never actually met him.”
Tyler nodded towards DC Webb’s desk. “Webb is checking who owns the abandoned offices, and there are cameras across the street on one of the other buildings, so hopefully we can get some footage.”
DC Webb had his eyes fixed on his computer screen, the faint blue light from the screen reflected on his face made him look washed out.
“They still haven’t found Alfie Adebayo,” Mackinnon said. “Do you think he’s in danger?”
Tyler sighed and put down his pen. “I’ve got no idea,” he said. “But I hope the boy is somewhere safe. He is a key witness, and if our killer is smart enough to realise that…”
Tyler trailed off without saying the obvious. Mackinnon knew what he meant. As much as they wanted to find Alfie and get him to talk, there was someone else out there who would like to find Alfie to silence him.
They were interrupted by DC Webb swearing loudly at his computer. He looked up at them.
“It’s a dead end,” he said. “The building’s owned by a company. They have plans to redevelop it in the next couple of months. They can give us a list of names of people with keys and there’s a security company who visits a couple of times a day, but I’m not hopeful we will get anything from the list. I reckon our Mr. X has just picked out an abandoned building to use for his purpose.”
Tyler nodded. “Okay, but we don’t know they’re not involved. Could be that someone at the company or someone working security detail knows something. So, we need to check every name you have on that list.”
DC Webb looked down at his list. “Right,” he said. Shoulders slumped, he turned back towards his computer.
The phone on Tyler’s desk rang and he snatched it up.
“DI Tyler,” he barked into it.
“Yes, sir,” Tyler said. “Of course, sir.” Mackinnon could tell by the change in Tyler’s tone that he was talking to DCI Brookbank.
As DI Tyler was on the phone, he didn’t notice Evie Charlesworth come up behind Mackinnon.
“We’ve managed to get some footage of the building,” she said.
Mackinnon felt hope rise in his chest.
“Can you see Erika Darago?”
“Yes, we can see Erika Darago. We can’t see where she leaves the note, obviously, but we can see her going into the building.”
Mackinnon nodded. “Good.” Then he asked the million-dollar question. “But can we see anyone picking it up?”
It turned out there was somebody entering the building a short time after Erika Darago left. But they couldn’t identify the figure. They couldn’t even tell if it was male or female.
Mackinnon watched the replay. Ten minutes after Erika Darago left the office block, a dark figure, wearing a hooded coat, arrived at the front of the building, ducking beneath the no-entry tape and entering the double doors.
Tyler, Mackinnon and Webb crowded round the monitor, eager to see whether they would get a better picture when the figure came out of the building, but they were out of luck. The figure exited the building. With the big coat the suspect wore and the way the hood was pulled down low, there was no chance of an ID.
“Shit,” Tyler said. “Do you think we can enhance that?”
“Not a chance,” DC Webb said. “You won’t get anything better than that. It would be a waste of time trying to enhance it.”
Tyler swore again, and Mackinnon felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, and seeing it was a number he didn’t recognise, he excused himself and walked back over to his desk in the incident room.
“DS Mackinnon,” he said.
A female voice answered. “This is Lucy,” she said. “Lucy Sampson. I’m the nanny for Joy Barter.”
“Hi, Lucy. How can I help?” Mackinnon asked and waited for her to continue. He knew the nanny had wanted to tell them something the last time they had visited Joy Barter’s house.
“I wondered if you could come and see me,” she said. “I’ve got some information you might be interested in.”
“Of course,” Mackinnon said. “Should I come to the house?”
“No,” Lucy Sampson said, urgently. “Don’t do that. Can you meet me in Holland Park? At the children’s play area?
“I’m going to take Thomas there in half an hour and I don’t really want Mrs. Barter to find out. You don’t have to tell her, do you?”
Mackinnon assured her that he wouldn’t tell Joy Barter about their meeting, and Lucy gave him instructions on how to find the children’s play area.
After he’d ended the call to Lucy Sampson, he headed back to see Tyler.
“I’ve got a job for you, Mackinnon,” Tyler said. “I want you to go and check out this building where Erika Darago and our so-called Mr. X were exchanging their notes.”
Mackinnon grimaced. “I’ve just had a call from Joy Barter’s nanny, Lucy Sampson. She says she has some information, and I told her I’d meet her in half an hour.”
Annoyance played over Tyler’s face for a moment, then he said, “All right, fine. You go. I’ll get Collins and Charlotte to check out the building.”
M
ackinnon nodded and headed out, grabbing his coat on the way.
It took Mackinnon thirty minutes to get there. The sun was setting, and the day was cold. It wasn’t really the weather for enjoying an adventure playground, so Mackinnon wasn’t surprised there was no one else in the play area apart from Lucy Sampson and Joy Barter’s little boy, Thomas.
Thomas gave Mackinnon a cheeky smile from the top of the slide.
Lucy Sampson was seated on a wooden bench beside the slide. She stood up and waved at Mackinnon, then she looked past him, as though she was expecting Joy Barter to sneak up on her at any moment.
Mackinnon made his way over to the bench and they both sat down.
“I’m glad you called,” Mackinnon said.
Lucy bit her lip. “I’m not sure it was the right thing to do,” she said. “But I just want to do what’s best for him.”
She looked at Thomas who had arrived at the bottom of the shiny, metal slide and was running back for another go.
“It’s good that he’s got someone like you to look out for him,” Mackinnon said.
Lucy took a deep breath then she said, “I called you about something that happened a week ago. It’s probably nothing important. It just seemed really strange at the time. You see, Thomas goes to nursery three times a week, and I normally have the car to pick him up. It’s too far for him to walk, and it was pouring with rain.”
Lucy paused, her eyes seeking out Thomas. Once she saw he was safe and climbing the slide, she continued, “The thing is, Mrs. Barter said that I couldn’t use the car. She said she needed it that day, so I asked if I could take Thomas in a taxi and she told me I was being very lazy.”
Mackinnon nodded and waited for her to continue.
“In the end she got all huffy. She said she didn’t want her little boy in a taxi filled with germs.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “She’s got a thing about public transport. So in the end, she said that she would pick us up and that she might be a few minutes late.”
“And was she?” Mackinnon asked.
Lucy shook her head. “No, that’s the funny thing, she was there early, but she said she had to go somewhere afterwards and we would have to wait for her in the car.”
“She parked up in a shady part of town. That’s what seemed so weird. It wasn’t the type of place she’d normally go,” Lucy said.
“I see,” Mackinnon said. “Do you remember the name of the road?”
Lucy Sampson frowned. “I don’t remember the name of the road,” she said. “But I knew we were in the Towers Estate. I don’t know the door number she went to because it was a block of flats. But I remember the block of flats was called Manor Park House.”
Mackinnon nodded, his mind whirring. Manor Park House. That was the address of Erika Darago.
“And what day was that?” Mackinnon asked.
“It was Wednesday,” Lucy said.
Mackinnon watched the little boy, who had now moved on to the swings.
Wednesday… not long after Joy Barter had withdrawn five thousand pounds in cash.
How could that possibly be a coincidence?
30
“WHAT DO YOU THINK we’ll find?” Charlotte asked, as Collins drove towards the East End.
“God knows,” Collins said. “But there has to be something. The net is closing in on our elusive Mr. X.”
Collins indicated and took the next right. “You know, I feel a bit of an idiot calling him Mr. X. I mean, what sort of a name is that?”
Charlotte shrugged, loosening her scarf. The car’s heaters were blasting out hot air. “Hopefully we’ll have his real name soon.”
Collins slowed the car as they approached the abandoned office block. The building used to be owned by CO Insurance, but it had ceased trading almost two years ago. The land had been purchased by a developer, but the refurbishment work hadn’t started yet.
Charlotte climbed out of the car and slammed the door. She stared up at the building.
Grey cladding covered the front, interspersed with small square windows. It was nothing like the office blocks built today, with their huge windows, letting in plenty of light.
Working at CO Insurance must have been a dark, gloomy experience.
The building was surrounded by plywood boards. To the right, Charlotte spotted the entrance. A thick, metal chain and padlock had secured the gate once, but it had been cut. The chain dangled by the entrance.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow and turned to Collins, who was locking the car.
“Don’t think much of their so-called security.”
She walked to the gate and inspected the chain. “It’s been cut right through. A clean cut. Probably bolt-cutters.”
Collins leaned over her shoulder. “Interesting. I’m going to go around the perimeter first, check there isn’t another entrance or exit.”
“Okay.” Charlotte zipped up her coat and pulled a pair of latex gloves from her pocket. “I’ll go in. Meet you in there.”
Collins nodded and set off around the perimeter.
The gate creaked on its hinges as Charlotte pulled it open. It didn’t open very far before the bottom of the gate wedged itself against a mound in the uneven floor. Great design. She squeezed through the small gap.
Behind the wooden boards, the air seemed unnaturally still. Charlotte shivered. It’s just because the boards are blocking the wind, she told herself, moving forwards.
Directly in front of her was what looked like an old service doorway. All that remained of the old wooden door was a collection of splinters and some peeling blue paint. The door had been shattered.
Someone had been very determined to get in.
Charlotte walked towards the entrance. Behind the broken door, the entrance to the building was pitch black. She took a deep breath and pulled her torch from the inside pocket of her jacket.
She flicked the switch, testing the light. The narrow beam of light flitted from right to left as she tried to see inside the building.
There were a few old ceiling tiles scattered over the floor, but it didn’t look dangerous or unstable.
Charlotte stepped inside.
As she walked further inside the building the temperature seemed to get even colder. It was a struggle to stop her teeth chattering.
Ahead of her was a staircase and on her left there was an open doorway.
Which way first?
They would need to search the whole property eventually, but the sooner they got their hands on some evidence, the better.
Charlotte chose to climb the staircase. The steps were rickety, and she had to take care not to stumble on yet more ceiling tiles.
Halfway up the stairs, Charlotte thought she heard laughter. She stood still, listening, but she didn’t hear it again.
She was surrounded by darkness now, the light from the doorway where she’d entered had faded to nothing.
“Collins?” she called out into the darkness. “Is that you?”
There was no answer.
Just the wind whistling, Charlotte told herself, and resumed climbing the stairs.
It was so cold. Charlotte rubbed her nose and sniffed. It smelled bad, too. Mould, mildew and neglect.
A long drawn out creak sounded above her. It sounded like someone was up there. She ran up the rest of the stairs, praying that she wouldn’t trip as the beam of her torch bounced off the walls.
At the top of the stairs, there was a large rectangular landing. Charlotte paused and spun round in a circle. Which way had the noise come from?
It was so cold she could see her breath in front of her.
There was a door on each side of the landing. She moved to her left, her torch pointing at the door.
Charlotte blinked. Had the door handle turned? When she shone the light back on the handle, it hadn’t changed position, but she could have sworn she saw movement…
She pushed the door open and burst into the room. It wasn’t as dark in here. The remaining hazy light from the setting sun filtered in th
rough the grimy small windows.
It was a huge room that had probably once held row upon row of office staff.
Charlotte moved forward. It was nice to be able to see further than the end of her nose, but she kept the torch switched on.
Charlotte walked slowly around the room, shining her torch into the corners. She couldn’t see anything of interest, so she decided to head to the doorway at the far end of the room.
For some reason, the base of the door seemed to glow. Was there a light in there? Was it Collins?
Charlotte was about to call out when a shadow flitted past the other side of the door, temporarily blocking the light.
Charlotte gripped her torch. It’s Collins, she told herself. It must be.
She walked towards the door slowly and put her hand on the old-fashioned brass door knob. The handle was freezing.
She bit down on her lip and pushed open the door. She waited a moment before entering the room, listening.
She could hear the traffic on the street below. But nothing else.
Charlotte stepped inside the room. It was almost identical to the one she’d left. She shone her torch on the floor, and walked on, avoiding the mouse droppings.
Another long drawn out creak had Charlotte spinning around. The room was still empty, but the door she had just walked through was now closed.
She had left it open, hadn’t she?
Charlotte swallowed and swung the torch around the room again to make sure she was alone.
The torch light found an object in the middle of the room.
That was funny. It almost looked like a red pouch.
As she moved closer, she saw that was exactly what it was.
Charlotte placed the torch on the ground and crouched down. She picked up the pouch with her gloved hands. Inside were at least ten flat wooden discs, all with an X engraved on one side.
Charlotte put the pouch back down on the floor. She felt sick. That had been left here for them to find.
She took a deep breath, and as she stood up, her mobile emitted a shrill ring, making her jump.
“Jesus,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest.
She answered the phone. It was Collins.