“Interesting.” Jack said, sipping his coffee.
“It is. The other fingerprints belong to a person named Gill Watts. Toby’s younger brother.”
“Nothing wrong with a brother visiting his older brother.”;
“Nope, except Gill gives Toby a run for his money regarding his criminal record.”
Jack closed his eyes. His mind was clear from his holiday, so the alarm bells set off by his firing neurons weren’t warnings cluttered by surrounding noise.
“Did you happen to view the CCTV footage of when Toby Watts left the marina at the ferry terminal?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Someone assisted Toby Watts to get his boat on his trailer, but didn’t leave with him. I assumed it was a friendly gesture by one of the islanders, but now I wonder if the person came in on the boat with Toby Watts. If he did, he’s likely to be an accomplice to the Jill Winter murder.”
“See what I mean? We need you, Jack. You’re not going to start up a lawnmowing business so you can employ your son. No, you’re going to stay a peacemaker.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. Lawnmowing business. Good idea. His first client could be the old lady who wanted to shoot the cats that peed on her plush lawn.
<°)))><
Jack walked back to the table after ordering another cup of coffee. Catherine was doing something on her phone.
“Do we have a recent photo of this Gill character?”
“We do, Jack. I just logged in and checked the CCTV from the ferry terminal. It was his brother.”
Jack nodded. What did that mean?
Catherine leaned towards Jack. “Check this out. Recorded at the watch house the day after we arrested Toby Watts.”
The video recording was taken from the CCTV camera above the watchhouse’s charge counter. A man delivered some clothing and collected some items from the counter. Jack’s heart rate ramped up as he zoomed in on the items on the counter. The red caught his attention. Amongst keys, loose change and some notes lay a doll—the voodoo doll with stringy red hair.
“Where does Gill Watts live?” Jack asked.
“On the island.”
<°)))><
“Hello, Sergeant Phil Jones speaking.”
Jack heard the sound of gulls in the background. He must be outside.
“Hi Phil, its Detective Sergeant Jack Kinnaird here.”
“Hello, Jack. How’ve ya been?”
“Good, Phil.” Jack could hear wind whistling and footsteps on gravel. “You outside?”
“Yep, heading to the vehicle.”
A door shut.
“That’s better. Bit breezy out there. Just down at the ferry terminal doing some PR work. How can I help you, Jack?”
“Just wondering if you happen to know a resident on the island by the name of Gill Watts.”
Some brief chatter came over the in-vehicle police radio. It got softer.
“Yes, I’m aware of Gill. He’s been on the island for a few years now. He’s on supervised parole for a few more years, but he’s been no problem. The powers-that-be consider him low risk. Keeps to himself except when he’s helping out in the community. Be surprised if he’s up to any mischief.”
“You aware he’s the brother of Toby Watts?”
“Yes, made that connection. I actually had a chat with Gill about Toby recently. It appears Gill was more receptive to rehab than his brother, but they were still close. I think Toby visited Gill on the island a few times.”
“Do you know if Gill was involved in the Wiccan stuff?”
“Don’t believe he was involved in the ritual at the park. He had a genuine alibi for that night. But I know he’s into the new age spiritual stuff. I think it’s been helping him, keeping him positive.”
“Gill has visited his brother in prison a couple of times. Do you think he’s okay about what’s happened to Toby?”
“I’ll need to explore that for you, Jack. Let me do that and I’ll get back to you over the next couple of days.”
“Thanks, Phil. Appreciate that. Let me know how you go, and I’m happy to come visit.”
“Will do.”
Jack ended the call and returned his vision to the computer screen in front of him. The redheaded doll stared at him. It seemed to be taunting him.
