Hot Seat by Simon Wood

about what I shared with him. At the same time, I had to give him something to show him that I was making progress with the investigation.
    â€˜And you’ve got no idea who killed him?’ Gates said.
    â€˜Not yet. It could be anyone at this point, but Jason spooked whoever killed him.’
    â€˜Someone turned over Jay’s flat,’ Crichlow said.
    I let Gates digest that for a moment. ‘I think Jason was collecting evidence against someone, but it’s gone. His computer’s been taken and his papers burned.’
    â€˜What was Jason playing at?’ Gates said more to himself than to us. ‘He shouldn’t have been doing this alone. Why didn’t he come to me for help?’
    I dodged the question by shaking my head. Jason wouldn’t have turned to his brother since there was a trust issue.
    â€˜So we’ve got nothing and they’ve got everything.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t say that,’ I said. ‘The cops gave you back Jason’s things, right?’
    Gates capped the bottle and looked at me quizzically. ‘Yeah.’
    â€˜Did they return his mobile?’
    He was quiet for a moment. ‘No.’
    â€˜Can I see what you got back?’
    â€˜Yeah. Wait here.’
    Gates returned with an expandable paper envelope and I used it to push my unwanted whisky aside. The sight of Jason’s possessions emptied out over the bar affected Gates. His features slackened and tears welled in his eyes. He was human, after all.
    I picked through Jason’s things. It was the usual collection of items we carry with us. There was nothing that actually defined him. Just keys, loose change, a pen, a handkerchief, a cheap digital watch, a signet ring, a cross on a chain and a wallet stained with his blood.
    â€˜Anything missing?’ I asked.
    â€˜Besides the phone? No, I don’t think so.’
    â€˜Did the cops keep anything back as evidence?’
    â€˜Not as far as I know. Not that anyone would have said if they did. The bastards wouldn’t tell me. Straight for over a decade, but they still see a villain.’
    After the treatment he’d given me, he didn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt.
    â€˜Are you looking for something specific here?’ Crichlow asked.
    â€˜Hard to say, but I thought there might be gloves or tools or something for breaking into the Ragged Racing transporter.’
    Gates’ grip tightened on his whisky glass. He looked disgustedly at it and tossed the contents down the sink. ‘Tell me you’ve got ideas.’
    If Jason hadn’t brought any tools to break into the transporter, how was he planning to get inside? I picked up Jason’s keys. In addition to the keys to his flat and car, I recognized the red anodized keys to the Ragged Racing workshop. As a former employee, he shouldn’t still possess them. So how had he come by them?
    â€˜I do. Can I borrow these?’
    â€˜Yeah. Sure.’
    I got up to leave. ‘And just so that we’re clear, I’m going to find your brother’s killer, not because you’re threatening me, but because your brother deserves justice, so don’t ever pull a stunt like this again. And just so you know, if you lay a finger on my grandfather, I’ll cut you off at the knees. Got me?’

Lap Twelve
    I left Gates’ house in one piece. He’d just smirked at my threat. Crichlow hadn’t. Maybe he recognized the dangers of dealing with a cornered person.
    As I drove back, I thought about Jason’s mobile phone. That phone held a lot of potential in its memory. Any pictures or video could explain a lot of things. If there were ever any calls between the killer and Jason, the phone log could also prove damaging.
    I played over the possibilities as I drove back to Archway. The noise of the road and existing in the limbo between places always soothed me. No matter how big the problem, there was always a big enough road to solve