Murder in the House of Commons

Extract

Tuesday, 12 August, 15h00
Linda set off slowly. The engineer and his equipment had just arrived and had taken Linda’s seat in front of the computer. She was not looking forward to encountering Peter Earthone, the chairman of her parliamentary group and therefore the highest ranked MP of her political party in the House of Commons. However, she knew that she had to do it. Strictly speaking, she should already have informed him before the visit of the policeman. Instead, she intuitively called the station immediately after the connections between the emails and the murder had become clear to Alan and to her. She was admitting to herself now that her first impulse was quite selfish. She did not want to have anything to do with these horrifying things, she was frightened. Hence she wished secretly that the police would take the burden from her shoulders at once and then discharge her appreciatively. Nothing like that happened and Linda realised that she had fooled herself. This was a serious matter.
She could sense that Paul Sutherton took the emails just as seriously as she did. Nonetheless, his experienced actions had given her a sense of security for a short while. He left a nice impression and was not as old-fogeyish and stiff as she imagined an officer from Scotland Yard. On the contrary, with his well trained body and his dark clothes, she would have rather thought him an FBI agent of an American movie. An involuntary smile came to her lips. But when she reached Mr Earthone's office door, the gravity of the situation came to her mind again and her smile faded.
All right then – go in and win! She had made an appointment by phone and was therefore expected by the chairman. The two secretaries beckoned her into the room. "He doesn't have much time," the older of the two urged her.
That’s about to change, Linda thought, troubled.
"How do you do, Mrs Moore?" Earthone leaned against the window and combed his hair whilst his assistant adjusted his tie. Linda nearly burst out laughing in the light of this absurd situation. "What’s the matter? I have to go to a press conference about White's death in a few minutes."
"That's why I'm here." She cleared her throat and her voice sounded more confident. "A policeman has just visited me and I spoke to him about the murder."
"Why?" Earthone raised his eyebrows, surprised and annoyed at the same time, "What did you have to say to the police? You know that you are supposed to discuss every kind of conversation within the scope of your function with me or my deputy beforehand."
Linda ignored the reproach, "Please read this, someone sent it to me a few days ago. It's most likely that the sender is White's murderer." She gave him the sheet of paper which she had taken along. Earthone put the comb aside while his assistant retreated a few steps. As his eyes went through the text his lips turned pale. Linda observed him closely.
"Sit down!" he requested finally and took a seat on his armchair behind his big desk. "Please notify everybody that I will be about ten minutes late." Moving his hand he shooed his assistant out of the room. Ten minutes? Linda nearly cried out. Here was the letter of a killer and he gave her ten minutes? Yet his intense facial expression showed her that he took the matter seriously.
"We can’t allow that anything of the matter leaks out." He spoke in nearly the same tone as the policeman earlier, "Especially when during the silly season the press lurks for every possible sensation."
Although Linda agreed with him in principle, something in his voice bothered her, "Don't you think that the highest priority is to catch this criminal and to prevent possible future murder?”
"Of course." Earthone was tactful enough to give in, “We definitely don't want to make the work difficult for the police in any way. You did the right thing by informing them immediately. However, also keep in mind the surveys carried out in public. You know that we've lost a few percentage points in voter support over the last months despite exposing the corrupt activities of a few ministers. The tax breaks introduced by the government are to blame. If we want to win the elections in six months time, these letters are never to come to light. Just imagine – an opposition politician is linked to the murder of an MP of the governing party!"
Linda cringed. She had not considered these circumstances so seriously up to that point. Yet the experienced politician, a strategist, who was sitting opposite her, might be right after all. Some of the tabloids as well as some of the traditional papers were very pro-government and had a large readership. Moreover, at present, the topics of conversation and maybe even the opinions of the people were dictated by the media.
"How should we proceed?" She put the question to her chairman without lowering her gaze. Grovelling behaviour was not part of her character and she did not want to display it now. There was a reason she had accomplished her current position.
"For now we wait and see. You’ll keep me in the loop and if you should receive another email, inform me immediately. If Veracity in fact announces another murder, we maybe have to call an emergency meeting at which we will discuss our future strategy. However, let's hope for now that this will never happen."
With this last sentence, Linda understood she was dismissed. She did not believe for one moment that he seriously hoped nothing more would happen. He had to prepare himself for every possibility; as a chairperson of a parliamentary group and deputy party leader he could not take it as it came. Linda assumed that he would discuss the matter with his closest staff members in the next couple of hours but that she would not be involved.
Why? When she left the room she felt slightly hurt. Her career progression had gone so well up to then. Why did he just rebuff and dismiss her? Maybe she was merely imagining things. Her nerves were all on edge and she felt like the protagonist of a cheap detective story. She would finally do what she had wanted to do for hours since she was not able to work anyway. She would go home and make sure that her little daughter was alright.
Alan nodded at her reassuringly. He looked into her tired face and did not even have to ask how her meeting with Earthone went.
"I’ll hold the fort for the next couple of hours and attend to the routine work," he promised. “Just go to Lily and even have a nap! Would you like me to check your emails?"
"Thanks, but that's not necessary," Linda said. She did not want to burden him even more.
After all, it was not Alan's fault that Veracity had chosen her as the recipient of the bewildering words, "I can check my emails from home and will do it every hour. I'm taking the number of the police guy." She picked up the business card and put it in her bag, "See you tomorrow."


Tuesday, 12 August, 17h00
The post-mortem went off routinely and quickly. Paul was relieved. The senior pathologist confirmed the cause of death. White died of thirst. In all probability, the death occurred in the night between Sunday and Monday. Except for a high dosage of sedative found in White's blood, nothing noteworthy came to light.
Paul did not have any feeling of revulsion when he saw the knives cutting the body of the deceased, the scalpels and the scales on which the organs were placed one after the other. He had already been present at such proceedings too many times. White had looked peaceful. The slight cuts at the wrists and ankles caused by the fetters were the only visible sign of external forces. The dosage of sedative was so high that it could be assumed White was drowsy, more or less unconscious in the last hours or days. That would explain why no one heard any screaming – if in fact White spent his last ten days in the tight cabin of his yacht. That is what Paul assumed in the meantime.
Paul left after a short phone call with Dr Hurds who had already read the text and was on his way to their meeting.
When he reached his destination, most people had arrived.
During the morning Paul had quickly rounded up a team consisting of eight specialists to handle the White case. The room was small, the plastering flaking off the walls and the table rickety.
The chairs were too few and the people who came after Paul had to get chairs from the neighbouring rooms.
Brad groaned, "Why most people still associate Scotland Yard with excitement and an almost aristocratic elegance is beyond my understanding. Just one day in this dump and all their illusions would fly out the window."
His comments were met with unanimous approval. Paul, however, interrupted their low-voiced conversation with a short gesture.
"Let's talk about the case." His voice was serious and resolute, "To begin with, I would like for Brad to summarise the events of last night again. If someone has to make any important addition, please indicate by raising your hand.”
During Brad's report Paul looked around. The tension in the room was so thick one could almost cut it with a knife. Only Dr Hurds, an elderly man with sparse hair and first signs of a paunch, settled back in his chair with his eyes half-closed behind his spectacles. However, Paul knew that the scientist was all ears. The two youngest team members only joined Scotland Yard a few months ago straight after having completed their detective studies. They were visibly the keenest listeners. Paul could not see any sign of fatigue on them and he envied their smooth and perfectly shaved faces. After Brad had finished his report and no further additions had been made, he rose to speak again.
"What results did your enquiries during the course of the day reveal?"
His colleagues reported one after the other.