Ultimate Witness by Harlan Finchley

Author:Harlan Finchley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Culbin Press
Published: 2024-03-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

When Malcolm reached his office, Tarrant was standing farther down the corridor outside Jefferson’s office.

“Before I left, I told everybody to go to the conference hall and stay there,” Malcolm shouted at him. “That was an order, not a suggestion.”

With Tarrant not offering a reply, Malcolm slipped into his office. The room was empty and as he expected, the blue ghost wasn’t by his desk, but he’d also expected Jefferson’s body to be near to where the ghost had been.

“He’s not in there,” Bernadette called from the corridor. “Stafford found him in his own office.”

Malcolm hurried outside and then into Jefferson’s office where he found Doctor Kipling standing beside a body. In a pool of dark blood, Jefferson lay sprawled beside his desk. By the back wall, Stafford stood with a small smile playing on his lips.

“How did he die?” Malcolm said, moving to Jefferson’s body.

“A heavy object hit him on the back of the head,” Kipling said. “Which is consistent with what happened to Phoebe, and this time there isn’t a locker door nearby that could explain the injury. He’s also been dead for several hours.”

Malcolm nodded and turned to Bernadette in the doorway.

“Get Tarrant in here, now.”

With her eyebrows raised, Bernadette backed into the corridor and relayed his order. When Tarrant, the youngest and fittest member of his team, arrived, Malcolm pointed at Stafford.

“The storeroom’s the most secure part of the base,” he said, keeping his voice as calm as he could. “So help me escort Stafford there.”

“Why?” Tarrant said and folded his arms.

Stafford stood calmly with a hand rested on the wall. With the other hand he stroked his strands of wispy hair.

“Because Stafford is our killer.”

“Stafford?” Tarrant said, with Kipling and Bernadette echoing his comment.

“I’m not concerned by the accusation,” Stafford said. “I’ve no idea what’s going on in Malcolm’s head, but if it’ll please him, I’m happy to sit in the storeroom.”

Stafford pushed from the wall and strode by Jefferson’s body and into the corridor. Malcolm told Kipling and Bernadette to go to the conference hall. Then he and Tarrant flanked their prisoner as they headed down the corridor.

At the storeroom, Stafford walked inside without comment. Malcolm asked Tarrant to wait outside and then followed Stafford inside. In the gray, furniture-free room, Malcolm’s colleague of the last ten years sat on the floor.

He propped himself up against the wall close to where Phoebe had died, his hands resting on his knees. Matching Stafford’s posture, Malcolm slid down the wall to sit on the opposite side of the room facing him. He squirmed on finding he was close to the place where the blue ghost had been and shuffled to the side.

“We have a problem,” Malcolm said. “As we’re leaving shortly, the only solution I can come up with is for you to cooperate.”

“We’ll still leave tomorrow. Schiller won’t let you use the emergency pod.” Stafford raised his eyebrows. “So are you going to ask me why I did it?”

“No.”

Stafford laughed, forcing his chuckles to last beyond any natural end.

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