Chapter 49
Kelly spoke to Ted’s office when she was alone.
She’d tried to absorb the information from the brief with several strong coffees.
Ted’s lab technician had accessed his notes for her and the lab results were back for Jamie Robbins’ bloodwork.
The technician read them out over the phone and Kelly made notes.
‘Blood alcohol zero. No recreational substances. Positive for toxic levels of glutamate and we’re trying to isolate the source.’
‘Is there any mention of elevated hormones or dehydration?’ Kelly asked.
It was a long shot. She had no idea what she was asking for, or if these things showed up on toxicology results.
She’d worked with plenty of scientists on cases and she was told if something killed or not.
She didn’t get into the chemical structure of hidden poisons, and she’d never thought about doing so either.
She’d not come across a case where a substance wasn’t even recognised and therefore potentially missed on a tox screen.
She heard the woman use her mouse and clicks punctuated the quiet.
‘Here we go. They’ve flagged up three elements of unusual levels in his tox results and, here we go, yes, they’ve highlighted a toxic mix of those three compounds.
Somebody has written here by hand with a question mark your Neurohydroxy-14 as a possible source.
They’ve also tagged the information as suspicious because the combination of the elements is not something that should occur in human bodies.
So, there’s a question mark over how it got into his system.
I’ve heard of it but only at college; I’ve never seen evidence of it in tox results before. ’
‘Thank you,’ Kelly said. They hung up.
They had their proof.
But she didn’t understand why, if Jamie Robbins knew the dangers of the compound and had told Joe Folly as much, he was drinking it?
The only sensible answer was that he was forced to before he died, or he was addicted and kept it a secret.
Long-term use suggested hallucinations and mania, if Paul Burlington’s behaviour was to go by and Lee Lovett was telling the truth.
He’d said Paul was manic when they found him above Rydal Caves.
But if Jamie and Paul were both taking the substance, then did they do it willingly?
She tried Sandy Cooper’s mobile again and this time, to Kelly’s shock, the scientist answered.
‘I need to ask you a few more questions, Sandy. A few issues have come up which we need clearing up. You might need a lawyer.’
‘Really? That sounds ominous, and highly dramatic. I’d better get on the phone to Hampton-Dent in New York, I’m sure they can recommend a good attorney.’
Kelly didn’t like the scientist’s tone, but it was expected. She’d love to hop into a car and fly over there to Dow Bank House but she’d promised Johnny she’d sit tight and it would also draw attention from Carleton Hall.
‘Head over here anytime,’ Sandy said.
‘We can speak over the phone,’ Kelly said.
‘It’s perfectly safe over here, it’s private land, and we have those burly bodyguards.’
Sandy was toying with her, but Kelly didn’t bite.
Kelly tapped her pen. She could feel an opportunity slipping away from her and she was tempted to call Del Booker to demand a warrant for the arrest of all of these Hampton-Dent fuckers.
She was tired of playing around and her loved ones had been threatened.
Maybe she could take a squad car as back-up.
‘I’m a bit tied up here. And it’ll take time to arrange an attorney from the US. So, I guess you’ll just have to wait. I’m assuming I need an attorney before I answer any of your questions.’
Kelly imagined Sandy Cooper flying out of the UK by private jet this afternoon and the opportunity to interview her properly slipping away from her.
‘What if we agreed to meet informally. Under English law, if I don’t arrest you and you’re not interviewed under caution, I can’t use the testimony without your permission.’
‘Isn’t English law ludicrous? Who is it aimed to protect? Law-abiding citizens or those who’d do them harm?’
‘Good question. The more I discover, the more I feel it’s designed to protect those who are in charge, rather than the little people who need the protection in the first place.’
‘Now we’re talking. It’s all becoming clear.’
Kelly felt a little nauseous. She knew the scientist was correct because she’d seen it before. Free law was cheap for a reason. She’d found herself in the middle of a game she wasn’t controlling, and it felt horrendous.
‘You’re on CCTV at the Old Man Guesthouse on Friday, Sandy. There’s no need to lie anymore. I know you knew Angelina well. It’s blatantly clear you were familiar with each other. What were you doing there? And why did you lie to the police?’
Sandy sighed. ‘None of your cosy chats at the hotel were formal interviews. I didn’t lie about anything. I was bereaved and confused. Jamie wanted a chaperone for his little sister.’
‘And he chose you?’
‘You sound surprised!’
‘What happened to her?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘What about the bodyguard? Kevin Streeting? He’s the tall one with the Mercedes cap isn’t he? He’s on the passenger list we received from Manchester Airport. Why was he there?’
‘Security. Jamie was jumpy.’
‘I wonder why. Did you take him there as a recce?’
Sandy hesitated. Kelly could hear the trepidation in her voice as well as something behind it. Fear.
‘Meet me at Rydal Caves at two o’clock and I’ll tell you both everything.’
‘Us both?’
The line went dead, and Kelly stared at the photo of Lizzie on her desk. She’d never come across a case like this in her career before. She was being played by people who held no regard for the law at all. They didn’t have to. They were beyond its scope.
HQ had warned her off explicitly.
She was in uncharted territory.
But her curiosity was incorrigible. Being commanded to do something often had the opposite effect on her.
It made her want to investigate the puzzles of this inquiry even more.
Del Booker might have rolled over like a lapdog, perhaps he’d been paid off too, but there was no way she was bowing down to whoever was pulling the strings. Then her stomach sank.
She was desperate to find out what was so special about Rydal Caves. What was there? It was remote, sure. It was hidden away, but full of tourists. Then Kelly recalled it was entirely devoid of a mobile signal. It was a Wi-Fi blackspot. Perhaps that was the reason.
She checked the images on her phone again of Angelina’s artwork.
It didn’t matter how many times she stared at the brush strokes or focused on the stones and rocks, or rearranged the numbers, they still meant nothing to her.
But yet they still tugged at her, appealing to her to do something about it. Try harder.
Concentrate.
The six images were a key. A message.
If only she could figure it out.
She paid Fin’s desk a visit and found him with six printouts on his desk. She tapped him gently on the shoulder. ‘You’re trying to do the same as me.’
‘You gave me a puzzle, what do you expect? Have you cracked it yet?’ he asked.
‘No. Have you?’
‘I think it’s a six-digit code that is unique to Angelina. That’s what we have to find.’