Chapter Sixteen
‘You were scared of losing your jobs.’
Love spoke to Butterfield who was sitting back down at his desk. He was drinking a cup of strong, sweet tea.
Love put a mug to his lips. He’d felt in need of one himself.
Stuart had declined. He stayed where he was resting on the edge of a nearby desk. Observing. Making notes.
‘Yes, of course we were. We still are.’ He took a sip of his beverage and cupped his hands around the mug. Suddenly there was a tap at the door, it opened, and in walked Linda Moody.
‘Is it all right if I come in now?’
Love spoke. ‘Yes, absolutely. Thank you for your cooperation.’
‘That’s all right,’ she said, and smiled. ‘I usually have a cigarette after lunch although I’m trying to give up.’
Linda Moody. Thirty-eight. No great beauty but she exuded a calming aura. Soft, shoulder-length brown hair. Blue eyeshadow lightly applied over large, intelligent brown eyes.
Love said. ‘Your return is timely, Mrs Moody.’
Linda removed her hat, scarf and coat. She looked back at Love with a query and a smile. ‘Why is that?’ She glanced at Butterfield and the colour ran from her face. ‘Derek,’ she said quietly. ‘You told them.’
Derek Butterfield said, ‘I’m sorry, Linda, I had no choice.’
‘Well, I daresay. It was only a matter of time.’ She wiped her hands down the front of her tweed skirt and pulled at the hem of her chain store polyester jumper. ‘I’d like to sit down if I may.’
‘Mrs Moody, we will keep this confidential you have nothing to worry about.’
Linda pulled out her chair and sat down. She folded her arms and leant on the desk. ‘Do you have any questions for me, Detective?’
‘We haven’t got to that part yet,’ Love said. ‘Have we Mr Butterfield?’
Butterfield shook his head. ‘On the day my wife was murdered, Mrs Moody left the office at 12:00 o’clock and I followed five minutes later.’
‘Practically together?’ Love asked. ‘Isn’t it difficult with Mr Moody on the premises?’
‘Highly difficult which is why Linda and I have a secret meeting place.’
‘Which is where exactly?’ Stuart asked.
‘The Texaco garage just down the road. She waits for me there inside the shop. If the coast is clear I pick her up in my car and from there we drive to Southwark Park. It’s far enough away not to meet anyone from the office.’
‘And that’s what happened on the day of your wife’s murder?’ said Love.
‘Yes, we met up, Linda got in the car and we drove to the park. We walked. We talked. Nothing more.’
Love looked at Linda. ‘Can you verify this, Mrs Moody? Is that what happened?’
‘Yes, that’s it exactly. We stayed at the park for about thirty minutes before coming back to the office. Instead of the regular way back Derek did a loop and dropped me off in Cardigan Street close to where it meets with the other end of Stables Way. He drove in alone. I walked back alone.’
‘You go to a lot of trouble.’
‘It’s worth it Detective Le Fanu,’ replied Butterfield.
‘Can anyone verify this?’
Derek Butterfield smiled. ‘Normally I would say no but on this occasion we each bought a mug of soup from the cafe in the park.’
‘Who served you?’ Stuart asked.
‘Have no idea but we usually see her there most days.’
‘Any reason why she should remember you two?’
‘No, I’m afraid not.’
‘Think hard,’ Love said. ‘Anything at all.’
Butterfield shook his head. ‘No, nothing unless, hey! Wait a minute.’
‘Yes?’
‘The soup. I said it tasted good, like the stuff you can get from Locks bistro. The woman laughed and said something about where did I think she got the recipe from.’
Love spoke. ‘Good. That gives us something.’
‘Anything else?’ Stuart said. He waited. He felt Derek Butterfield and Linda Moody weren’t telling them everything.
‘No, that’s it. That’s about everything.’
Stuart sat for a moment and snapped shut his notepad. ‘Thank you very much, Mr Butterfield. We’ll be in touch.’
Love spoke up. ‘Mr Butterfield, can you tell us anything about the crosses on your wife’s stomach?’
Butterfield shook his head. ‘No, of course not. What would I know about them?’
Love stared at Butterfield briefly before replying. ‘Mr Butterfield, we may have some more questions, I hope you understand. Perhaps you’d like to come into the Branch for an informal chat.’
‘But I don’t understand, I’ve told you everything you need to know.’
‘Have you?’ Love said. He smiled before adding, ‘If either of you think of anything else, here’s my card.’ He reached into the pocket of his chinos and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open to produce a stiff white card. He handed it to Mr Butterfield and then took a couple of steps reached over and gave one to Linda Moody.
She took it in her slim hand and held it.
‘And here’s mine,’ Stuart said. He flipped open a silver card case and removed two cards. He gave one to Butterfield and one to Linda. Butterfield took it and placed it on the desk next to Love’s card.
Linda took it and stared at the two cards resting in her hands.
Love spoke. ‘Thank you very much for your time. We’ll be in touch.’ Love turned to leave then hesitated. ‘Mr Butterfield, do you own a gun?’
‘What!’ Butterfield replied. He looked shocked. ‘Of course I don’t!’
‘I’m sorry, we have to ask.’
Stuart slipped on his gloves and nodded. ‘Appreciate your time and cooperation.’ He pointed at Butterfield’s cold chicken and spaghetti. ‘Sorry about your lunch.’
Butterfield glanced down at the remains of his lunch on his desk. ‘Pardon? Oh, my lunch, it doesn’t matter we have a microwave I can reheat it up in.’
Love and Stuart took one last look at the two individuals caught up in their secret love tryst and left. They were outside in the car park before either of them spoke.
‘Didn’t see that one coming,’ Love said as his pointed his keys towards his Volvo. He pushed, it bleeped, it unlocked.
‘Not so close to home you mean.’
‘Exactly. I knew they didn’t have a perfect marriage. Felt it in my gut from the beginning. But having a thing with a work colleague whose husband is on the premises is walking a tight line.’
‘He’s a cool customer.’
‘So is she, but she’s got warmth.’
‘Not a cover girl as far as her looks are concerned but I can certainly appreciate the attraction.’
‘Especially if he wasn’t getting any comfort at home.’
‘There’s still something he hasn’t told us.’
Love stopped in front of his car door. He pulled it open. ‘I agree. He’s still hiding something,’ he said as he manoeuvred his bulk into his seat.
Stuart jumped in and rubbed his hands together.’ Love, please get the heating…’
‘I will,’ he interrupted. ‘I’ll see to it when we get back to the Branch.’
‘Thank you.’ Stuart grinned and looked out of the side window. He glanced at the building to where he figured the accounts office would be. He glanced again and was sure he’d spied the outline of two figures standing behind the venetian blinds.
Watching them leave.
13:15 hours
Love drove out of the offices only to be swallowed up by the lunchtime rush.
He joined the bustle and traffic. Busy people. Busy lives. Single persons. Married. Some having affairs. Some not.
Love thought back over his interview. He knew, like Stuart, Butterfield was still holding something back. The sun was shining. Doing its best. Weak and watery but at least it was shining. Love drove on. Deep in thought.
Suddenly
, a buzzing interrupted his thoughts.
Stuart pulled off his gloves stuffed them in a pocket of his overcoat reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his mobile. He looked at the screen before answering. Not a fan of BlackBerry. Strangely enough. Smart-looking bloke. Wealthy. Fashionable. But like Love, not a complete slave to the fashion industry.
He liked to put his own personal spin on his attire. He could if he chose but he didn’t run with the pack. That wasn’t his style. He was old school. Not the new bling-type of celebrity wealth. He used a regular Nokia. Middle of the range, nothing cheap but not too expensive either. A phone that was good at taking photographs.
That, as far as Stuart was concerned in his line of work, was important.
‘Hello?’ He listened. A car passing in the opposite direction blasted its horn. ‘Sorry, can you repeat that?’
Love concentrated on the traffic. It was busy. That was nothing unusual. Cars. People. Some of whom were shopping at Tesco. Some getting a packed lunch. Sandwiches. Whatever. Which reminded him, he had to buy something for his dinner tonight. Preferably something already cooked, like a chicken. He continued to watch the crowds. Some individuals were no doubt buying a small bottle of liquid lunch, something that could easily fit inside their jacket pocket because they didn’t want anyone else to know about it.
Love knew all the tricks. Glad he was no longer there.
And some already stocking up on their perishables in time for the festive season. And then come the week before Christmas they’d have to do it all over again because the first lot of supplies would be gone.
‘That was Chris.’
‘Which one - Chris as in she who is built like Sophia Loren or Chris who looks like Ray Winstone?’
Stuart smiled. ‘Sophia.’
‘And what did she have to say?’
‘No luck with the hospital records.’
‘That’s a bummer.’
‘She cross-checked with the names from Monica’s work and her dance class.’
‘And came up with nothing.’
‘And came up with nothing.’
‘So what’s her plan?’
‘She’s going to extend the search to include acquaintances.’
‘No family, other than Ashley and Timmy, or friends?’
‘None that we can find, Love,’ said Stuart. ‘I reckon you were right.’ He pushed the phone back into his pocket and slipped his gloves back on. ‘Her work life is also her social life.’
Love grunted and swerved to avoid a bicycle messenger. His favourite. Guaranteed to extract a reaction whatever his mood. No friends, huh? Work life was her social life? Love determined he knew all about that ball game.
A minute later, they’d come to a halt in front of the underground car park of MI6. He and Stuart each swiped their ID on a verification device lined up either side of the car complete with infrared and heat-seeking security cameras. All occupants of a vehicle are required to perform this procedure both incoming and outgoing. Armed security guards also patrolled the area, out of sight, but aware of every move. The wrought iron gate opened. Love cruised over to the spaces allocated for DSBD stopped the car, pulled on the handbrake. He left the vehicle running, his hand hovering in front of the key.
‘Love?’
‘Yeah, mate, just thinking.’