Hot Chocolate, Drinking Chocolate

"Oh, I was just wondering when this place opens," replied Mike. "I have a job I need to do. A bit of chemical analysis, I suppose."

"That's interesting," said the man, eying him up. "I work here, what exactly do you need us to test for?"

"My wife gave me a drink last night and I think there's something in it that was designed to knock me out. Two sleeping pills, I believe."

"Oh. I see. Look, officially we don't open until 9AM, but I always like to make an early start. My name is Dr Nigel Peters, what's your name?"

"I'm Michael, or rather Mike Claydon."

"Mike, do you need us to run a blood test on you?"

"Probably not, as I didn't drink more than a sip of the drink, but I do have the whole drink saved in a container?"

"Great!" said Dr Peters as he unlocked the door and silenced the alarm. "That'll be really helpful. Of course, you do understand that there will be a fee for the work?"

Mike shrugged his shoulders, "Yeah, I was rather thinking that there would be."

As they walked past a reception desk in the hallway, Dr Peters grabbed a statement of fees and gave it to Mike. Mike glanced at it and said: "That's actually a good deal more reasonable than I feared."

"Good! Glad to hear that, Mike," he replied. "Come with me, we have a fairly comfortable waiting area with a coffee machine and some rather elderly magazines; let me have the container and you can sit down here and wait. I was coming in early to get some paperwork done, but I'd rather sort your sample out, first. It shouldn't take too long. Of course, back in the old days of wet analysis, it could have taken a couple of days."

He looked at the puzzled expression on Mike's face and laughed. "Oh! Sorry! Wet analysis. It's an old laboratory term for chemical analysis, so called because the chemicals in the lab were liquids, and, therefore, wet. We use mass spectroscopy now. Much easier. Results in hours or minutes, even. Anyway, must get on."

Mike nodded as Dr Peters walked out of the room, carrying the container with him.

Dr Peters opened the container and was immediately aware of the strange smell coming from the mug within it. There was definitely chocolate, but there was a chemical smell that he was familiar with but couldn't quite place.

Using a pipette he extracted some of the liquid and placed it within the spectroscope.

Ten minutes later the results appeared on the screen and he cursed. "Shit! That can't be right! Or can it? Better doubled check, just to make sure. I'll recalibrate the system. And I'd best call my old mate Detective Chief Inspector Probert and see if he is available. He'll be interested in this. Or at least, someone in his team will be."

Half an hour later Mike was staggered to be met with a large, bluff man in a smart suit, which looked as if it might be ready to become quite badly creased if needs be.

The occupant of the suit looked jovial and he shook Mike's hand as Mike stood up. "Hello, Sir. My name is Detective Chief Inspector Richard Probert. What is your name, please?"

"I'm Mike Claydon. Why are you here?"

"Because my friend, Doc Nigel, asked me to see you. It seems that your suspicion was correct. Your wife did give you a doctored mug of drinking chocolate and because that's illegal, he asked me to pop in and see you. It's all quite informal at the moment, but it depends how you want to deal with it."

Mike shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I suppose I was going to come to the police station and speak with someone about this. Just a bit surprised to see you so soon, that's all."

"OK, Mike, let's get down to brass tacks, shall we? Please tell me what happened and who is involved."

DCI Probert had taken notes, and by 9AM he had rousted out a magistrate he knew who owed him a favour or two, and had obtained a fairly generous warrant to search Malvirta and the grounds thereof.

Four fast cars and a couple of vans, including the Eastern Counties Police forensics van, were sent over to the house, whilst Mike waited back at the police station.

With the judicious use of blues and twos and some creative driving, the police vehicles had arrived at Malvirta just after 11AM.

DCI Probert eyed up the scene. He noticed the two occupants of the house, a woman who had been crying, and a man who looked truculent.

"Good morning, Sir," he said. "I presume you are Mallory Habred, owner of this property?"

"I am!" snapped Mallory, eying up the warrant card that he was proffered. "What's all this about?"

"Sir, I have reasons to believe that an offence or offences have taken place in and around this property and I am therefore going to organise a thorough search of the property and grounds in accordance with this search warrant."

"You'll hear from my solicitor!" snapped Mallory.

"I should certainly hope so," said DCI Probert, crisply.

He turned to the female who was hovering rather like a cloud of misery. "You must be Julie Claydon?"

"Where's my husband?" she sobbed out. "Where is he? We couldn't find him!"

"Your husband is quite safe. Though you have reminded me that we do have certain matters that we need to question you, and you, Mr Habred, about."

He gave them the standard warning as he arrested them: "You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

"Say nothing!" shouted Mallory as he was escorted to one of the cars. "Jules, say nothing until I get a lawyer for you!"

Given the short notice, DCI Probert was quite pleased with the team he had put together to search Malvirta. They were damn good at their jobs, which gave him some ease.

"What are we looking for, sir?" asked the uniformed female sergeant, Donna Maltravers, who was in charge of the search.

"In all honesty, I'm not entirely certain, Donna. At a minimum you'll need to seek out some drinking chocolate and some sleeping pills, or a discarded empty container of tablets. As for anything else, use your discretion and your imagination."

"Computer stuff, sir? Tablets, laptops, desktop machines, flash drives and so on? Paper records?"

Yes, that sounds good."

Back at the police station Mallory Habred was seething in one interview room, whilst Julie Claydon was seething in another. Actually, she wasn't so much seething, as in a blind panic.

She had never been in trouble with the police, not even a parking ticket, so her only idea of police procedures was from whatever police dramas she had watched on the telly. The occupants of both interview rooms were under the watchful eyes of a PC.

In the operations room, DCI Probert addressed his team. "Morning, folks! A bit of a weird one this morning, to be honest. We have a distinguished resident in Interview 2 at the moment. Well, at least he thinks he is distinguished!

"It's Malllory Habred, the CEO of Habred Industries. We suspect him of slipping a Mickey Finn in the drink of one of his male employees so he could have sex with his wife, whilst the husband was out cold. Luckily the husband caught whiff of the plot and had the foresight to bring the drugged drink with him.

"Our good friends at Eastern Counties Forensics are, as we speak, analysing the drink that he was given. Doc Peters there has assured me that the drink was tampered with, but he needs to run a check on his gubbins and he'll get back to me as soon as he can.

"OK, folks! Let's handle it this way, I will interview Mrs Claydon with Detective Sergeant Paul Barnett first. Then we'll interview Mr Habred. We're just waiting on their solicitors to arrive."

DCI Probert decided to interview Julie first, as he felt that she might crack under questioning.

He and Detective Sergeant Barnett entered the room and acknowledged the presence of a slick looking solicitor.

"This interview is commencing at 12.15PM, present are Mrs Julie Claydon, Detective Sergeant Barnett, myself, DCI Probert and?" The solicitor took his cue: "Roger Smith of the legal department of Habred Industries, to represent Ms Claydon."

"Mrs. Claydon, you are married to Michael Claydon?" Her eyes darted toward the solicitor. "I have no comment to make to that question."

DCI Probert glanced at Smith who, he realised, was looking smug. "I see. Could you confirm your name for us?" He looked at her and noticed that she looked toward Smith before responding. He saw the almost imperceptible nod that he gave in response.

"Yes, my name is Julie Claydon."

And could you confirm that you and your husband were staying at the home of your mutual employer, Malvirta, Mr. Mallory Habred?"

"No comment" was her reply.

DCI Probert glanced at DS Barnett who took his cue. "Mrs Claydon, not long ago we read your rights to you. Would you like me to remind you of what was said to you?"

Without waiting for a reply he repeated them: "Julie Claydon, you do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.

"This means that if you try to stonewall us during your questioning, if you try to bring something up during any subsequent trial, the fact that you chose to exercise your right of remaining silent during police interviews means that could harm your defence.

"How can I put it to you? If you were about to cross at a pedestrian crossing on a green light and you saw a massive lorry which was obviously going to run a red light, heading toward you at speed, it would be your right to cross the road at that exact moment, but you'd still end up being struck by the lorry. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Before she could reply Smith shouted: "That's an outrageous thing to say to Ms Claydon! Mr. Habred is going to have something to say about this!"

DCI Probert turned to Smith and gave him the Probert stare for which he was famed.

"Really, Mr. Smith? What bearing would the opinion of Mr. Habred have on us questioning your client?"

Smith looked aghast. He was a solicitor, true, but he had been involved in corporate law for most of his working life and had not sat in on police interviews since qualifying, spending his career in the legal department of Habred Industries. He realised he had made an error, but wasn't quite sure what.

DCI Probert said: "I am going to suspend this interview to seek further advice. Please wait here, everyone."

He left the room and took the lift to the third and top floor of the building and knocked on the door marked: Superintendent Styles, and walked in after he was acknowledged.

"Good afternoon" DCI Probert said to the uniformed figure sat behind a large, modern desk. "Hi, Rick! What brings you up to the top floor?"

Probert grinned as he say before the desk. "Got an interesting one, Clive! Two people are under investigation for administering a drugged drink to the husband of one of the suspects. The two suspects, Julie Claydon and Mallory Habred, are employee and employer, the victim is Michael Claydon, husband of Julie Claydon, who is also an employee of Mallory Habred.

"The sticking point is that the solicitor for Mrs. Claydon is employed by Mr. Habred and is from his company's legal department.

"Paul Barnett made a fairly innocuous remark to remind Mrs. Claydon that remaining silent might harm her defence in court and the solicitor, Smith, I think, got on his high horse and shouted: 'Mr Habred is going to have something to say about this!'

"And this leaves me in a bit of an awkward position, if, as I think, we are going to be looking at some sort of conspiracy charges for our two suspects, we really can't have the lawyer seeking instructions from the other suspect as that might really bugger up the defence case and perhaps the prosecution, too."

Superintendent Styles nodded. "I see. You believe he should not be allowed to continue as her solicitor during the interviews?"

"That's correct, Sir. If you could come and deal with it for me?"

"The chance to get away from behind this bloody desk is a Godsend, Rick! Come on, let's go!"

The arrival of Superintendent Styles in his uniform caused something of a stir.

He came into the room and said: "Please recommence the recording. Mr. Smith, is it?"

Smith nodded. "Mr. Smith, DCI Probert has raised an issue with me that I concur with him on. He believes, and I agree, that your continued presence in this interview would be improper, due to your behaviour and due to other factors that you failed to fully explain to us. As a result, Mr Smith, I am excluding you from this interview, as is my right as a Superintendent of Police."

"That's outrageous" shouted Smith, jumping to his feet. "You can't do that!"

"On the contrary," interjected DCI Probert, "I am unable to do that because I am but a mere DCI. However, Superintendent Styles can do that because he has attained the rank of Superintendent. It's all perfectly legal and above board. However, please be assured that Mrs Claydon will receive the representation of a solicitor during any subsequent interview. However, you should still be able to represent Mr Habred during his interviews."

Smith gathered his papers and left the room in a sort of medium rather than high dudgeon. Actually, now that Probert had mentioned it, he seemed to recall something from a lecture at university about how solicitors could be barred from police interviews, under certain circumstances. If only he'd taken more bloody notice during his lesson, he thought to himself.

DCI Probert and Detective Sergeant Barnett then decided to conduct an interview with Mallory Habred. It was pretty much a stonewall interview and they learned nothing from it, though Probert sensed that Habred was stonewalling because he had something to hide.

The day was getting late and DCI Probert was having fun. Usually he would leave such cases to his team of Detectives, but Detective Inspector Collins was off on holiday with his family in Devon, so he thought he might as well get his hands dirty, as it were.

They'd put a call in to the local firm of solicitors which was top of the list for providing a duty solicitor and so it happened that Cardew, Royston and Hatcher had sent the youngest and newest member of their team, Sarah Collins, who had not long qualified as a solicitor.

She asked to meet with her new client to receive instructions and it was a chastened Julie Claydon who they met in the interview room.

She answered the questions now. Yes, she was married to Mike, yes she had plotted with Mallory Habred to knock her husband out whilst they had sex together, but she had not meant any harm to befall her husband and Mallory had assured her that, although powerful, the drink she had given him would only knock him out and wasn't designed to hurt him.

However, when it began to look as if the interview would be reaching a logical conclusion, reality, as it often does, cropped up and really put the cat amongst the pigeons.

A female PC knocked on the door and said: "Excuse me, sir, but Doc, er Doctor Peters needs to have a word with you. He said it's a matter of vital importance to this case."

"Right," said DCI Probert. "I'd better go see what he's found out. I'm suspending this interview for the present time. Please ask our guests if they'd like any refreshments."

He found Doc waiting in his office, glancing at his cricketing trophies.

"Hi, Doc. What have you got for me that's so important?"

Doc let out an explosive sigh. "Either Mr Habred, is it, Is an utter idiot or he is a calculating monster. Because of what Mike Claydon told me this morning at my lab I was pretty confident about what I'd find in that drinking chocolate, so when the result was not what I expected I decided to re calibrate my spectroscope. It was due a recal sometime soon anyway, so that wasn't too much of a problem.

"The only problem was that after the re-calibration, the result was the exactly the same. It showed that Habred had not put two sleeping capsules into the drink, he'd put what was close to a full bottle.

"Had Mike drunk the stuff down, or even half of it, he would have gone to sleep right enough, but a sleep he would never have awakened from."

"Fuck!" shouted DCI Probert. "How come?"

"It would have acted as a depressant on his central nervous system and would have made his breathing slower and slower until, in the end, he'd have been dead.

"However, that's where Habred made a massive mistake. You know how when you first break the seal on a bottle of medical capsules, there's often a nasty smell? That smell isn't caused by the drug, it's actually caused by the material that the capsules are made from.

"If Habred hadn't been such an idiot he would have noticed that, but he didn't. That was the smell and taste that made Mike realise his drink had been doctored."

"Shit, this really puts a different complexion on things. Looks like he wanted Claydon dead. But why?"

"Don't know, but my lab is ready to look at anything you bring back from the house."

"Right, yes, thanks for that. I really will have to get a report from Sergeant Maltravers on what they have found."

He took his phone out and called Sergeant Maltravers. "Donna! It's Probert here. Have you found anything? Oh! You have? Great. I'll have to have a meeting with you as soon as you get back with your booty. Do leave a patrol car with two officers on guard at the house, okay? I'll approve any overtime that's worked up."

He turned to Doc Peters: "This is getting bloody interesting! Thanks for your help, Doc!"

Later on, Donna Maltravers came to his office, along with boxes of computers, tablets, data sticks, portable drives and some papers.

"Well need to call in some specialist help from the economic fraud squad," said Donna. I've only glanced at these papers but it looks as if all is not right at Habred Industries and it appears from an email I saw that Habred was very keen on keeping it from the attention of his father."

"How did you find that out so quickly?" said DCI Probert.

"I'd like to say it was down to my genius as a police officer, but the truth was that I was helped by the fact that Mr Habred is a crook of the most helpful variety. He had a notebook entitled "My passwords" next to his computer."

"Thank God for criminal masterminds like him!" guffawed DCI Probert. "Now, whilst he is cooling his heels, let's take a look through this little lot."

"The main thing are these emails, Sir. We managed to pull these off his mobile phone."

DCI Probert scanned over the printed copies of the emails, shaking his head.

The story he read was a story of greed, avarice and the willingness to do anything to succeed, even arrange the murder of a subordinate.

"Dear Roger" he read. "When that accountant Mike Claydon sent that email to my Dad the other week I was nearly shitting myself. I realised that Claydon was becoming a menace to me.

"If he could find that information out which he sent to my Dad, it would only be a matter of time before he found out about the dummy corporations that I was using to syphon money out to my secret bank accounts. The problem with Claydon is that my Dad took him on and kept in touch with him as he progressed his way up to the position of Chief Accountant.

"He feels loyalty to my Dad and I have no doubt that if push came to shove, he would grass me up to not only my Dad but the authorities, too. I thought about offering him a bribe, but I dismissed that idea right away, as he'd probably turn up to our next meeting wired up by the DTI or whomever!

"The only thing I can do is to kill him. I don't want him to suffer or for the death to look suspicious, so I have come up with the perfect plan.

"His wife Julie works in our marketing department, so I have decided to target her as a way to get to Claydon. I'll use her to kill her husband.