The Career Killer

by Ali Gunn

  The Career Killer

  Ali Gunn

  The Career Killer

  First published in Great Britain by Gripping Twist 2019

  © Ali Gunn 2019

  The moral rights of Ali Gunn to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Cover Art designed by Mibl Art, www.MiblArt.com

  AG author logo © Ali Gunn 2019, designed by Ivano Salima

  All characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  First Edition

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  The Career Killer

  Chapter 1: Dead Tired

  Chapter 2: The Front Doorstep

  Chapter 3: Spilsbury

  Chapter 4: Life Interrupted

  Chapter 5: One Too Many

  Chapter 6: Travelling Unseen

  Chapter 7: Home, Sweet Home

  Chapter 8: The Major Incident Room

  Chapter 9: Dead on Time

  Chapter 10: Review My Ex

  Chapter 11: Dad

  Chapter 12: Digital Footprints

  Chapter 13: The Choice

  Chapter 14: Two Dead Ends

  Chapter 15: East Meets West

  Chapter 16: The Profiler

  Chapter 17: Most Called

  Chapter 18: Trace

  Chapter 19: The BFF

  Chapter 20: Trust but Verify

  Chapter 21: The Dream Team

  Chapter 22: Dirty Money

  Chapter 23: Ring Ring

  Chapter 24: Bling Bling

  Chapter 25: Nelly

  Chapter 26: Leaks

  Chapter 27: The Impartial

  Chapter 28: Live on Air

  Chapter 29: End Run

  Chapter 30: Better Future Media Limited

  Chapter 31: Delegation or Derogation

  Chapter 32: The Serious Organised Crime Agency

  Chapter 33: A Reluctant Return

  Chapter 34: An Office with a View

  Chapter 35: Out of Place

  Chapter 36: Idle Gossip

  Chapter 37: Undressed

  Chapter 38: Soho

  Chapter 39: Killer Date

  Chapter 40: Going South

  Chapter 41: Disaster

  Chapter 42: An Act Interrupted

  Chapter 43: The Neighbours

  Chapter 44: Blue & Black

  Chapter 45: Regrets and Recriminations

  Chapter 46: The Sketch Artist

  Chapter 47: Mistakes were Made

  Chapter 48: Without a Trace

  Chapter 49: On the Slab

  Chapter 50: Access

  Chapter 51: False Positives

  Chapter 52: Told You So

  Chapter 53: No More Amateurs

  Chapter 54: The War Room

  Chapter 55: Lawyers and Jam

  Chapter 56: The Aspiring Billionaire

  Chapter 57: The List

  Chapter 58: All on Deck

  Chapter 59: Him Again

  Chapter 60: Downfall

  Chapter 61: Going Around in Circles

  Chapter 62: Benches & Benchmarks

  Chapter 63: The Big Red Key

  Chapter 64: The Career Killer

  From the Author

  This book is for those who’ve been burned too many times before.

  Chapter 1: Dead Tired

  She was just one hour from a long, lazy weekend with nothing more taxing than some early Christmas shopping and a good nap. She nearly made it.

  As Fridays often were, today had been a washout. Following on from a devilishly early start, the newly minted Detective Chief Inspector Elsie Mabey had spent eight hours sitting around at Snaresbrook Crown Court only to be told that she wouldn’t be needed today because the Crown Prosecution Service had dropped the case.

  That sort of thing always happened to Elsie. If there was even the slightest chance that something could go wrong, it usually did.

  She was keen to put the case, a run of the mill domestic spat turned violent, well behind her. Over the last seven and a bit years she’d seen dozens of these garden variety deaths. Husbands killing wives, gang members stabbing each other, and more overdoses than she could count. Thankfully, her days of being second-in-command were now over – as long as she passed probation.

  By the time she got back to her new office in New Scotland Yard, her eyes were beginning to glaze over. The Met’s personnel files on her new team members were on the desk right in front of her, but she couldn’t bring herself to read through them.

  After a hotly contested appointment process, command of Murder Investigation Team 18 was hers and with it came the large office she now found herself in. The room was in dire need of redecoration. For now, it housed a splintered old desk, three battered chairs, and several boxes of the outgoing DCI’s personal belongings which still hadn’t been taken away. If he didn’t collect them soon, she’d bin the lot.

  Personalising her office, however, would have to wait. Elsie was still on the graveyard shift, the worst possible assignment in her view because it made it impossible to keep to a proper sleep schedule. It meant she would be tasked with investigating whichever deaths came in between six pm and six am. Officially, her first on-call period had started a few moments ago. In practice, she hoped not to be given a case until after her team had had a chance to gel.

  Tonight was the most important meet and greet yet as Elsie had saved meeting her new team for last. The final three members of Murder Investigation Team 18 that she had to meet were her detective inspector, the man who would deputise for her in her absence as well as the two detective sergeants who would do the donkey work on any investigation. Elsie opened her office door to find one of them missing. The two women were chatting away and only fell silent when Elsie cleared her throat.

  ‘Sergeants Knox and Matthews?’ Elsie said. ‘Where’s Detective Inspector Stryker?’

  ‘I saw him leaving, ma’am,’ the younger one said. She had the unblemished skin and cheeky dimples of someone in early adulthood set against a bulbous nose atop which sat a pair of round horn-rimmed glasses that were too large for her face.

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘No more than a few minutes ago. He seemed to be in a hurry.’

  Strange, Elsie thought. She put it from her mind for the moment. ‘Then we’ll start without him. Come on in.’

  Knox threw herself down into the chair with a thud while Matthews was far more graceful. Elsie took her seat across the desk from them. It was her first time being on the boss’ side of the table. She was used to following orders and now she somehow had to manage a team that she knew very little about.

  Before she could say anything, her iPhone buzzed angrily as it vibrated on the desk, the glint of a green WhatsApp notification visible out of the corner of her eye. She switched it into silent mode and then tucked it in her handbag.

  ‘Sorry about that. It’s been one of those days. The CPS chucked my case out because the witness wouldn’t testify. The poor thing was terrified. I’d have thought the CCTV was enough to try, but then I’m not a lawyer.’

  She was rambling and the other two were letting her. The older one, DS Patricia Knox, was pushing forty and looked even older. Her bloodshot eyes, wispy grey hair and nicotine-stained teeth contrasted sharply with the Met’s crisp uniform. It was anyone’s guess as to how she had gone this long without following the usual “up or out” career trajectory of the Met. She leant back in her chair, tilted her head to one side, and just watched as Mabey babbled. Something about Knox was off. What was a woman with twenty years of experience doing serving as a sergeant? Elsie had skimmed her disc
iplinary file which had been surprisingly light for such a long-serving member of the force. She appeared to have been demoted for “disciplinary issues” only weeks ago.

  DS Georgia Matthews was the polar opposite. Where Knox was dumpy, squat, and obviously the oldest woman in the room, Matthews seemed childlike with glasses that made her eyes look like saucers, a slender figure and a nervous disposition evident from the way she shifted in her seat.

  ‘First things first, welcome to the team. I know a bit about you both, but why don’t you tell me what you think I need to know. Why don’t you go first, DS Matthews?’

  Before Matthews could say a thing, Knox butted in. ‘Look, Mabey, can’t we go down the pub? I booked us a table for six at The Three Dragons. I invited Seb.’

  Elsie looked at her scathingly. To suggest the pub was one thing. To interrupt a direct question was outright insubordination. Elsie ignored her and pressed on. ‘DS Matthews, please continue.’

  ‘I’ve just finished officer training.’

  Elsie had read that in her file. She was as green as an officer could be. ‘Ah yes, you did the graduate scheme. Remind me again what it was that you studied?’

  ‘Physics and history.’

  She’d read that too. Matthews wasn’t just any grad either. She’d managed a double first which put Elsie’s own upper second-class honours degree to shame.

  Knox drifted away, her attention focused on the window rather than on the conversation.

  ‘Patricia, what’s your problem?’ Elsie asked. ‘You’ve been off ever since you walked in. Let’s hear it. If there’s a problem, I want to get it out in the open so we can deal with it now.’

  No wonder her file noted “disciplinary issues”. Knox appeared to have no respect for Elsie’s authority.

  Knox tensed up. ‘Nobody ever calls me Patricia, alright? Not Patty or Pat either. It’s Knox, no more, no less.’

  Her tone was terse, clipped. Elsie decided to confront the obvious elephant in the room – it had to be more than simply a table reservation at the pub. ‘Why have you got a bee in your bonnet, Knox?’

  ‘Nah, it’s nuffink.’

  ‘It’s clearly not nothing. Out with it.’

  ‘Look, love,’ Knox said. ‘Leave it out, yeah? You don’t wanna go there.’

  ‘Out with it, Sergeant Knox.’

  ‘You really wanna hear it?’ Knox said with a sneer. ‘Fine. You don’t deserve the chair you’re sitting in. You’re too young, you ain’t got the experience, and there were far better candidates. You only got the job because of who your father is.’

  That stung. It wasn’t the first time the accusation had been thrown at her either. Her father had, up until only a few years ago, also worked for the Homicide Command. He’d even written some of the Met’s training manuals. So far in Elsie’s career, it had been impossible to escape his shadow. Elsie felt the vein in her temple throb as her temper rose. It took all her restraint not to reach across the desk and strangle DS Knox. She forced herself to calm down, her voice icy.

  ‘Knox, I’m going to say this once, and once only. I earned the right to lead this team. If you disagree, tough. The reality is I’m in charge and I’m not going anywhere. This is my team, not yours. If you can’t live with that, the door is over there.’

  Without hesitating one heartbeat, Knox leapt to her feet, took Elsie at her word and stormed out. The door slammed shut behind her and an awkward silence filled the room. Elsie was fuming. She forced herself to breathe in and out slowly.

  Matthews looked at Elsie as if to ask permission to go after her friend. ‘Ma’am,’ Matthews said. ‘She doesn’t mean it. I know she’s just frustrated. Let me go after her, calm her down.’

  ‘Get going then,’ Elsie said. ‘Tell Knox that she’s got until Monday to apologise or start looking for a new job.’

  Matthews closed the door gingerly behind her. Elsie slumped over her desk and wrenched her glasses from her face. The world immediately blurred away and her eyelids became lead weights as the shutters came down. Tears had begun to form in the corners of her eyes. This hadn’t gone the way she’d wanted. She’d been in charge for less than ten minutes and the team had already fractured. It didn’t help that she was so damn tired that she could easily drop off in her chair.

  The iPhone buzzed for the nth time and Elsie could ignore it no longer. She forced her eyes open and blearily squinted at the screen before stabbing at it with her thumb. As she squinted, the WhatsApp message swam in and out of focus. Still on for dinner, beautiful?

  She bolted upright. Sometime between breakfast, when she’d packed her make-up bag into her handbag, and now, her date had completely slipped her mind.

  With a couple of swipes, she opened the calendar entry. Her date was expecting her at a fancy gastropub in Mayfair. A little pretentious for a first date, Elsie thought. It was, however, nice that someone wanted to impress her. She retrieved her make-up from her handbag so she could make a bit of effort for her latest suitor, an accountant called Raj, who she’d found online.

  She’d long since given up on finding Mr Right, and was now willing to settle for Mr He’ll Do. Ever since she’d turned thirty-two, she’d found herself becoming less and less picky as the tick-tock of the biological clock grew ever louder. She began to apply her make-up starting with a thin layer of foundation.

  As well as the make-up, she needed to dress smartly but not too formal. A little cleavage but nothing too slutty. The top hanging on the back of her office door would have to suffice. It was a black V-neck top with a little sequined bow on the shoulder. As she put it on, she ruminated over tonight’s date. Raj seemed nice enough if a little forthright: it had taken him less than five brief messages to suggest dinner. Elsie supposed there wasn’t much point waiting until they’d exchanged missives for months. There was only so much you could learn about someone online after all.

  In all honesty, she wouldn’t normally give a guy like him a chance. He was an accountant. How exciting could he be? The thing that swung it in Raj’s favour was simple: he’d taken the time to read her profile rather than greet her with a generic “Hey” as if being monosyllabic and vague were sexy and mysterious. But was merely unobjectionable really enough to sustain a whole evening of chit-chat?

  It was tempting to cancel given the day she’d had. She thrust that thought from her mind. A promise was a promise, and a girl had to eat. It really wasn’t a huge burden to swing by the pub on the way home. If she skipped it, she’d just go home and crash, and regret it in the morning.

  It would have to be quick though, only a main course and maybe dessert. She wasn’t worried about being prudish, it was just that there was no way she’d keep her eyes open much longer than that. The mere idea of a protracted first date – let alone sex – was far too exhausting to contemplate.

  Come on, Elsie, she thought, cajoling herself onwards. It’s Friday night. Don’t waste it.

  She gently applied mascara to her eyelashes, applied a veneer of red lipstick, and checked out her handiwork. Not bad for a woman who’d just spent almost ten hours straight in court. The sound of a fist rapping smartly at her office door wrenched Elsie’s attention away from her task.

  ‘Come in,’ she called out as she snapped the eyeshadow closed. The door opened to reveal a behemoth of a man with broad shoulders, a chiselled jawline, blue-black hair tinged with grey, and eyes that locked straight onto hers.

  ‘Detective Inspector Stryker, how nice of you to finally show up.’

  Sebastian “Seb” Stryker was the third and final transferee to join her intrepid Murder Investigation Team. Until Monday, he’d been somewhere up north investigating the source of cheap methamphetamine appearing in schools and colleges; his old boss had wanted him gone pronto, and so he’d been dumped in Elsie’s lap. He was a mystery too. Why had he been dropped like a hot potato? There was a hint of urgency in his expression and yet when he spoke it was with a calm, collected voice that instantly put her at ease.

  ‘
Big date planned tonight, boss?’ He casually looked from the travel make-up mirror on the desk to Elsie’s lightly made-up face. She seldom wore much more than mascara and a little foundation. ‘Who’s the lucky man?’ he said.

  For a moment, she debated telling him to mind his own bloody business. Unfortunately, he had caught her, if not red-handed, red-lipsticked. ‘I’m supposed to be going out on a random first date but I’m not feeling it,’ Elsie said.

  He looked relieved. ‘Then maybe I’m not the bearer of such bad news after all.’ He paused for breath, letting the silence hang just long enough to arouse her curiosity. ‘They’ve found a body.’

  That got her attention. ‘When?’ she demanded.

  ‘Just after six,’ he said. ‘Minutes after our on-call shift started. You weren’t responding to my calls, so I thought it best to come and get you.’

  She glanced at her phone. She had six missed calls which had come in while her phone was on silent. All were labelled “Sebastian Stryker”. She deflected. ‘You should have gone to the crime scene.’

  ‘I did,’ Stryker said, flashing her a lopsided smile. ‘It’s secure, the woodentops are keeping guard, and they’ve got half a dozen PCSOs on crowd control, not that many people are out in this weather. We just need you on-site. I assume the rest of the team have been paged. Patty Knox and Georgia Matthews might even be there already.’

  Elsie doubted it. Knox had stormed out in such a mood that Elsie half-wondered if she might never see her again.

  If Stryker had had the time to secure the crime scene and get back again within the hour it had taken for Elsie to meet Knox and Matthews, then change and do her make-up, it stood to reason that the crime scene had to be nearby. Straining against the urge to put her head back down on her desk, she hauled herself to her feet and shrugged on her coat.

  ‘What happened?

  ‘You won’t like it.’

  Chapter 2: The Front Doorstep

  Churches and church towers designed by Christopher Wren were dotted around London. The crown among them, a stone’s throw from the City itself, was St Dunstan in the East. It had stood atop Dunstan’s Hill, in one form or another, from 1100 right up until the moment that the Luftwaffe struck. Despite the damage, the bombed-out remains, Elsie thought, evoked the atmosphere that Wren would have wanted, a beautiful, calm place of solitude. Floodlights had been haphazardly arranged around the perimeter by the first bobbies on the scene, illuminating the church walls against the night sky.