The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(111)

‘Speech recognition software?’ O’Neil spelled it out, as if she couldn’t believe her luck. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

‘I happen to know it doesn’t come as standard on this machine.’

‘This is a great find, Ryan. Well done.’

Ryan clicked the Documents icon. ‘We’re going to have trouble with this lot. Every one of these files is password protected. We’ll need help to unlock them.’ As Ryan pulled open the left-hand drawer O’Neil saw his face change. She looked at him quizzically. He pointed at the Simpsons mouse pad inside.





61


Christmas had come and gone. Despite the euphoria of finding items that Sophia Montgomery didn’t or shouldn’t require if she didn’t speak, the next few days were a pain in the ass with no sign of the woman herself and nothing to do but wait for others to carry out their tasks. Ryan wasn’t feeling positive – and tomorrow was Sunday, an ominous thought if she was getting ready to kill again.

‘Why so down in the mouth?’ O’Neil asked.

‘Technical support lucked out,’ he said. ‘I was hoping they would find incriminating evidence on Montgomery’s computer, but it’s clean. They say there’s nothing in her locked files to tie her to these offences. Not a damned thing. She’s as devious as we feared. I reckon she did her research on her brother’s computer, removing it after his death.’

‘Maybe the speech recognition software will give us something.’ O’Neil was trying to give him a boost.

‘Don’t hold your breath. There are no active files on the application. Technicians aren’t hopeful it was ever used. It wouldn’t surprise me if she bought it to piss us off.’ Ryan sat on the edge of her desk, trying not to look quite as glum as he felt. ‘Any news on the camcorder?’

‘It’s old, which fits with the report we commissioned. Experts say it could be the one Montgomery used. Equally, it might not be. We’ll probably never be able to prove it either way. It’s another piece of circumstantial evidence to add to all the rest.’ She reached into her drawer, handed him a report from Ne46 Technology.

He took it from her.

‘Before you read that, and before the others return from lunch, I want to say how much I appreciated your support over Christmas. There hasn’t been the opportunity to thank you properly. You were an absolute star.’

‘What I get paid for.’

‘So you keep saying, but I meant personally, not professionally.’ Her eyes held a special thank you. ‘The latter goes without saying or you wouldn’t be here. I’m not sure I’d have got through it without you.’

Ryan didn’t quite know how to respond. He wasn’t used to such overt gratitude and was at a loss what to do with it. She’d helped him when Jack died and he was more than happy to reciprocate. He’d do anything for her. Anything. Right now, he dealt with her praise in the only way he knew how.

‘You’re staring,’ he said.

‘Go!’ She pointed at his desk. ‘You know I hate a slacker.’

Ryan got up and wandered away, a smile developing. When the enquiry was over, he’d ask her over to his place for dinner. He missed his seaside home and wondered when he might return to it. Still, the view through their office window was fast becoming one of his favourites. On the road below, there was no sign of Newman and Caroline. Grace was approaching from a distance, a tiny red ant making her way towards him at breakneck speed, unaware that he was watching from above. She checked her watch, quickened her step even more.

Why the hurry?

As always, when Ryan allowed his mind to wander from the subject of a murder investigation, ideas began to flow. Something Grace had said on Christmas Day intrigued him. Pulling his mobile from his pocket, he dialled the number for Jo Nichol. The telephone didn’t ring out long. Ryan was surprised when it wasn’t her who came on the line.

‘Jo Nichol’s phone.’

Male voice.

‘Mr Spencer?’

‘No, it’s Doctor Blake, her GP. Who is this?’

‘Detective Sergeant Matthew Ryan – Northumbria Police.’

‘What can I do for you, Detective?’

‘My enquiry will only take a second, sir. Can you put Jo on?’

‘I’m afraid not, Detective. Ms Nichol died an hour ago. I’m here to certify death.’

Shit! ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Yes, it’s very sad.’ His response was clinical. ‘Better here than in an anonymous hospital room surrounded by busy nursing staff. She would have hated that. Jo wanted to die at home with dignity and she got her wish. She was a brave young woman.’

‘She was. I spoke with her recently. She didn’t mention it to you?’

‘Why should she. I’m a doctor, not a priest.’

‘She wasn’t in trouble,’ Ryan said. ‘She looked weak, but not particularly close to death—’

‘The terminally ill often don’t,’ Blake explained. ‘They’re on high levels of medication. There’s no need for anyone to die in pain these days. The medical profession aims to make patients as comfortable and peaceful as possible, within the law, of course.’

‘Were you with her when she passed away?’ O’Neil was studying Ryan, intrigued by the conversation he was having and no doubt wondering where he was taking it. ‘Doctor Blake?’