Chapter 73
Chris and Donna are walking the three flights of stairs up to Chris’s office. Donna has pretended to be frightened of lifts, to force Chris to walk.
“So, Jason Ritchie for the Tony Curran murder,” says Chris. “And Matthew Mackie for Ian Ventham?”
“Unless we’re missing something,” says Donna.
“Well, I wouldn’t put that past us,” says Chris. “So let’s work it through. We know Matthew Mackie was there, and we know he’s a liar. He’s a doctor, not a priest.”
“So we know he could get ahold of fentanyl, and he’d know how to use it,” says Donna.
“Agreed. I think we’ve got everything except a motive.”
“Well, he doesn’t want the graveyard moved,” says Donna. “Is that enough?”
“Not enough to arrest him. Unless we find out why he doesn’t want it moved.”
“Is impersonating a priest a crime?” asks Donna. “Someone I met on Tinder once pretended he was a pilot, and tried to grope me outside an All Bar One.”
“I bet he regretted that.”
“I punched him in the balls, then called in his reg number and got him breathalyzed on the way home.”
They both smile. But the smiles are fleeting. Both know they are in danger of letting Matthew Mackie slip between their fingers. No evidence whatsoever.
“Have you heard anything from your pals in the Thursday Murder Club?” asks Chris.
“Not a peep,” says Donna. “Which makes me nervous.”
“Me too. And I really don’t want to be the one to tell them about Jason Ritchie.”
He pauses for a moment on the landing. Pretending to think, but really just to catch his breath.
“Perhaps Mackie’s got something buried in the graveyard,” he says. “Doesn’t want it dug up?”
“Good place to bury something,” agrees Donna.