Final Lap Read online

“Yes.”

  “You were loosening its roots for one thing.”

  Venetia frowned and then shook her head. “No. I thought I saw a lizard – it could’ve been one of William’s – and I was just trying to see where it’d gone. There were quite a few holes by the tree. I thought it might have gone down one.”

  “Are you sure? Didn’t you make the holes?”

  “No.”

  “What did you have in your bag? It was quite big. A spade, was it?”

  “It wasn’t that big. And there wasn’t anything in it. If I found a lizard or snake, I’d have to put it somewhere to bring it back here.”

  “Mmm.” Luke was not convinced by her explanation. “You’re telling me you were on another lizard hunt. That’s not illegal. Weird maybe, but not a crime. So, why did you start off by saying you stopped in on Friday night? Why lie to me if you’ve got nothing to hide?”

  “Because it’s weird. I thought you might not believe me – or think I was up to no good.”

  “I’m surprised you went looking for something in the dark.”

  “Some of his reptiles are nocturnal.”

  “Why’s it so important for you to please one of your patients?”

  Venetia didn’t have an answer. She shrugged helplessly. “He’s... I don’t know. It’s such a shame, what the building’s done to him, losing his wife and his pets. So sad. He’s... affected me, I guess.”

  ****

  Malc soon provided Luke with some firm physical evidence. He identified a pair of brown boots that Venetia was wearing when she went up to the conifer. Of course, it wasn’t evidence that Venetia Murray was Spoilsport. It proved only that she was near the scene of an attempted murder.

  Back in Hounslow, Luke squatted beside the cab track and winced as he pulled tight latex gloves over the cuts and bruises on his hands. Then he dug his fingers carefully into the damp earth and prized up the syringe barrel. It was heavier than he expected because it was filled with mud, but it came away with a sucking noise. Luke placed it inside an evidence bag and pointed to the small dip he’d left in the earth. “Can you sit on this and scoop up some soil?”

  “Confirmed. What is the purpose of the sample?”

  “I want you to analyse it for any drugs that might’ve leeched out into the earth.”

  “That is irrelevant as I cannot enter any result into case notes.”

  “Yes, but I still want you to do it. I’m short on forensic evidence so I’ve got to squeeze everything I can out of things like this.”

  “Assuming the quantity of any such substance is at trace level, my current resources are not sufficient to perform a spectroscopic identification. I would have to arrange for the material to be analysed in a fully equipped chemical laboratory.”

  “Fair enough. Take the sample and let’s get going. I’m aching in places I didn’t know I had. I need to sit still for a bit and recharge my batteries.”

  “You do not...”

  Luke put up his hand. “I need a rest.”

  ****

  Arriving at Hounslow Residential, Luke paid the supervisor a quick visit before going up to his new quarters. Luke knew that anyone with a bit of initiative could have found out which room had been his. It wasn’t a closely guarded secret and the information could have leaked from any of the staff, the bookings list or the computer. Even so, he thought it was worth checking if Spoilsport had been nosing around before the tree uprooted. “Did anyone show an interest in my old room number?” he asked.

  “Yes,” the supervisor replied straightaway.

  The answer took Luke by surprise and his heart rate leapt. “Oh? Who was that?”

  “The Games’ musician. Ms Vernon. I hope you don’t mind I told her your room. She said you were friends and she wanted to surprise you.”

  Luke smiled and nodded. “That’s fine. It was a nice surprise. Anyone else?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  On the way up the stairs, Malc said, “Even though Jade Vernon made an enquiry into your room number, she should not be considered as a strong suspect because of her location. At the time of the majority of the sabotage incidents, she was in Birmingham or Sheffield.”

  “Thanks, Malc,” Luke replied, his tone dripping with irony that his mobile would not understand. “That’s helpful. I’ll rule out my best friend from trying to kill me.”

  Sitting at the table in his new quarters, Luke was well aware that the syringe might have nothing at all to do with his case. An athlete using body-building drugs might have cast it aside carelessly. A doctor or nurse might have dropped it accidentally. But Luke was intrigued because Malc had found it at the cab terminus where Spoilsport may have abducted Libby Byrne. Perhaps the saboteur had injected her with a drug but there’d been a scuffle before the contents of the syringe had taken effect. Perhaps the barrel had spilled unnoticed from Spoilsport’s hand in the tussle.

  Luke took the plastic barrel between his gloved finger and thumb. He dipped it into a bowl of warm water and moved it gently back and forth to flush off the mud. After a few minutes of swilling, the soil had sunk to the bottom of the bowl and he was holding a cleansed syringe barrel.

  He shook the water off his red herring or vital clue and held it up by the narrow end for Malc to scan. “Any prints now?” he asked eagerly.

  “No.”

  He balanced it on a tissue and said, “Try your best enhancements.”

  “I have only one working enhancement. I can reconstruct any invisible impressions by exposing the object to the fumes of cyanoacrylate superglue and then viewing it in infrared radiation. Components of the superglue will adhere to the fatty acids, amino acids, protein and urea in human fingerprints and these are highly characteristic in the infrared part of the spectrum.”

  “Yeah. All right.” Luke’s head was aching. He just wanted a result. “I’m going to lie down while you do it. Then there’s this bowl of water, the gunge at the bottom, and the earth sample you took. I need chemical analysis on them all, looking for a drug that might’ve been in the syringe.”

  “Tasks logged.”

  Luke threw back two of the painkillers he’d been given and headed for the bedroom.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Luke snatched only a few minutes rest before a security guard escorted a bedraggled protestor to his door. Hands on hips, Luke smiled wryly as he watched Frank Russell hobbling into the apartment. “I asked to see you when you got into your next bit of mischief. What have you done this time?”

  Wet and windswept, Frank stood in the middle of the room and swayed slightly from side to side. “Not a lot, compared with ruining what’s left of my life. They caught me injecting glue into a few locks, that’s all.”

  Luke shook his head. “When I saw you on the runway, you made a comment about how young I was.” He picked up a glass vase from the desk. “Because I was the youngest ever FI when I graduated from Birmingham, they gave me this.” Pretending that fragile ornament was an award, he clutched it proudly to his chest. “It’s very important to me.” Without warning, he flung it in Frank’s direction, about a metre to his right.

  Acting on instinct, all sign of the sluggish old man evaporated. Frank stepped sideways and caught the vase deftly in both hands.

  Luke gazed at him for a second, letting the implication sink in. “You’ve been having me on, haven’t you, Frank? You’re not as ill as you’re pretending.”

  Frank stared at the vase, safely cushioned in his cupped hands like a well-taken rugby ball, and realized that he’d been found out. “You won’t tell anyone else, will you?” he said.

  “Why do you act like you’re on your last legs, faking lung cancer?”

  Sighing, Frank sat down and placed the glass vase on his lap. “You are young. At your age, you don’t think what it’s like to be old. It isn’t pretty. So, I exaggerate a little. That way, people have more sympathy and my protests get more attention.”

  “It hasn’t really worked, though,” Luke replied. �
�Maybe it’s having the opposite effect. Maybe the builders think they can ignore you because you won’t be protesting much longer.”

  Frank drooped his head. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “So, how fit are you? If you had to go up a ladder, could you do it?”

  “A stepladder’s more my thing. I’m not good on big ladders. I get shaky.”

  “What about digging? You’re an expert digger, aren’t you? That’s what you did in your garden.”

  “Used to,” Frank stressed. “These days, it does my back in.”

  “Where were you last Monday morning, about a quarter to eight?”

  Frank shrugged. “Not a clue. I might be a bit better than I make out, but there’s not much I can do about a worn-out brain. I don’t remember day-to-day things.” He laughed dryly. “I can tell you everything I did when I was a lad, everything about my pigeons, but nothing about a few days ago. Hopeless. It’s age, you know. The brain goes, the waterworks get iffy, bones ache, and the spine... I told you, it isn’t pretty.”

  Luke had no real way of knowing if Frank was trying to pull the wool over his eyes again. If he was, Luke could rumble him only by getting physical evidence that incriminated him. “By the look of your shoes, you’ve been walking in mud. Lift them up for me, please. I want Malc to scan them.”

  Without question, Frank leaned back and lifted his legs one at a time. “I haven’t been anywhere near the tree, if that’s what’s on your mind.”

  At once, Luke asked, “What makes you think I’m interested in a tree?”

  “I heard what happened and saw it myself when I went past today. Now you’re asking about digging, shoes and soil. And you look like you picked an argument with a tree.” He chuckled. “I think you lost.”

  “Your brain seems pretty sharp to me.”

  “There’s something else I heard. There’s a musician checking things out.”

  “Oh?”

  “Word gets around.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Luke asked.

  “You ought to look after her. She’s part of the Games now, isn’t she? She could be a target for an objector. She needs to be careful.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Me? No. I’m trying to help. My campaign’s peaceful, like I told you. But I’m not the only one, am I? There’s a nastier piece of work than me out and about.”

  “What have you heard? Who is it?”

  Frank shrugged. “Nothing on the breeze about that. Sorry.”

  Luke didn’t want to prolong the interview any more. “All right, Frank. That’s enough. The guard’ll be waiting for you outside. She’ll probably take you somewhere where you can’t do any harm – until she turns her back.”

  Frank got to his feet and the vase on his lap tumbled to the bare-wood floor where it broke into three large pieces.

  Frank looked down and muttered, “There I go again. Forgetting it was there. Hopeless.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Luke said. “Anyway, I hear you’re good with glue. You could put it back together again.”

  Frank let out a little laugh, believing that he’d made a friend.

  “By the way,” Luke added, “what were you using to squirt the glue?”

  “A what-do-you-call-it. A plastic syringe thing.”

  Luke nodded. “I’ll see you next time.” As soon as the door closed behind Frank, Luke asked Malc, “What’s the latest? Did you get any fingerprints off that syringe barrel?”

  “No.”

  Luke pointed to the broken vase and said, “For the record, take Frank’s prints off the glass.”

  “Scanning.”

  “And what about chemical analysis of the mud?”

  “Any biologically active compounds are below my current detection limits. An agent will collect the samples later today and take them for further examination in The Authorities’ forensic laboratory. However, the result will not be valid unless you can provide an unambiguous link to a suspect or a victim.”

  ****

  Luke’s next visitor was Jade. This time, she hadn’t brought a trolley laden with food and drink. Still feeling unnerved and tense after his interview with Frank Russell, Luke looked at her and said, “I was wondering. Can you do the rest of your work in Sheffield?”

  “What’s this?” Jade exclaimed. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “You are, FI Harding! There’s something going on. I can tell.”

  “I want you here. Obviously. But...”

  “What?”

  Luke swallowed. “Well, you know the Games are in danger. You’ve become part of it.”

  Jade waved her hand dismissively. “My bit’s nothing to do with the building. I won’t make the difference between whether the Games go ahead or not. I’m not important like that. You could have the sport without the opening ceremony and anthem.”

  “One of my suspects has just vaguely threatened you.”

  Jade shook her head impatiently. “You’re in Spoilsport’s sights more than me.” She nodded towards the gash on his left cheek. “That’s more than a vague threat.”

  “I’ve got Malc. You haven’t.”

  Jade sighed. “As it happens,” she said, “I came to tell you I’ve done everything I can here. I’m off in the morning. Back to the sunny north, to work on the composition. I thought you’d be disappointed, not eager to see me go.”

  Luke felt torn. “I am disappointed. You know I am. But at least you’ll be safe in Sheffield.”

  Jade turned towards Malc and said, “He’s useless at staying out of harm’s way so make sure he’s okay.” Talking to Luke again, she added, “And don’t you mess up, either. I want you alive to make sure these games aren’t cancelled. Remember, it’s the future of my career you’re looking after.” Then she gave one of her irresistible smiles to show that she wasn’t serious.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Neil Gladwin put down his coffee mug. His expression transformed from harassed site manager to concerned colleague as soon as he peered into Luke’s flawed face. “I am sorry... Are you all right?”

  “I’ve been better,” Luke replied, “but I’m still in action.” Then he added, “Someone won’t be happy about that.”

  “What? Do you think it was deliberate?”

  “I know it was. The soil had been loosened. The aim was to trash either the building or me.”

  Neil shook his head in disgust. “Well, I’ve taken a team off other duties to remove the tree and repair the building, starting today. I could have done without the distraction, to be honest. It should have been cut down ages ago, but there was a problem with campaigners. One of them even took to staying in its branches to stop it being cleared.”

  “That was the woman you saw me arresting on Saturday morning.”

  “I thought she looked familiar.”

  Changing the subject, Luke said, “Do you remember, a couple of years ago, Libby was going on a trip to Glasgow?”

  “Yes?” His response sounded more like a question than an answer. It seemed that he wasn’t going to admit that he could recall the aborted journey until he knew where Luke’s interview was leading.

  “Why didn’t she take it?”

  “Just as well she didn’t. It crashed.”

  “Yeah. But why didn’t she go?”

  “I can’t remember the exact reason. It was a long time ago. Something cropped up here, I think.”

  “Something unexpected?”

  Neil shrugged. “I guess it must have been. She wouldn’t have planned to miss the plane, would she?”

  “It must have been something you couldn’t handle in her absence.”

  Smirking, Neil replied, “No. It was something she thought I couldn’t handle in her absence. Big difference. I suspect I could’ve sorted it out in no time.”

  “Have you been near that conifer in the last few days?”

  “I’ve been past it – if that’s any use to you – but not nea
r in the sense of touching the thing.”

  “To eliminate your shoeprints, I want Malc to scan yours.” Luke looked at the pairs of sturdy shoes lined up on the floor under the overalls and hard hats.

  “Fine. I use the ones on the right. The smaller ones on the left are Libby’s. I haven’t put them away.”

  Gritting his teeth, Luke knelt down. He slipped into his gloves and turned all of the steel toe-capped shoes upside down, exposing their undersoles. Then Malc moved closer to complete a scan.

  “Whose are the others?” Luke asked.

  Neil shrugged. “Spares, really. For me or a visitor or anyone.”

  “I guess you knew which room I was staying in.”

  Neil stared at him for a moment before saying, “Well, I could’ve found out easily enough, if I’d wanted to.” He pointed at his computer. “I can log on and get the rooms where my workers are staying – so I can contact them in a hurry if I have to. You’re probably listed as well.”

  Malc said, “There is an eighty-seven per cent match between the tread, size and wear pattern of the shoes on the right and the impressions left within two point four metres of the conifer. Certainty is not possible because the recorded impressions are smudged and weathered. However, they are the most commonly occurring shoeprints beside the tree and they coincide with the position of the spade marks.”

  Luke gazed at Neil Gladwin without a word. He waited for the uneasy silence to force him into speaking.

  “But...” Neil spluttered. “It wasn’t me. I don’t know how...” He switched his gaze from Luke to Malc and back again. “It’s crazy. Why would I mess up the schedule I’m doing my best to keep to? I’m not going to build with one hand and pull down with the other, am I?” He nodded towards Malc. “And your robot said it couldn’t be certain.”

  “Eighty-seven per cent,” Luke replied. “That’s a lot.” He hesitated, doing a quick calculation in his head. “If you’d done eighty-seven per cent of the three-thousand metres, you’d be on the final lap.”

  Neil spread his arms in a gesture of innocence. “The shoes are always here – so I can slip into them when I have to go out on site. Anyone could’ve popped in and used them.”