Written To Death (Alex Warren Murder Mysteries Book 3)

by Zach Abrams

  “Okay, Sheila submitted the play for consideration about two months ago. At that time, there were only three people judging, plus Sheila – they weren't allowed to judge their own. Let me think; that would have been Lionel, Patricia and Bert, they're all on the executive committee. The decision took two or three weeks and then it was given out to the whole group. That must have been more than a month ago.”

  “How about anyone outside the writers' group –was anyone else given it to read?” Sanjay questioned.

  “I really couldn't say,” Graeme said. “She sometimes read her work to her cousin in Canada. They'd often talk for hours on Skype. She also quite enjoyed reading her work to friends and fans, so I'd only be guessing at who might have heard it.”

  “Well that doesn't narrow it down very much. What about your order for the knives? How long did they take to manufacture and deliver?” Sanjay continued.

  “I don't think that will help you much either,” Graeme stated. “They had them in stock and were able to deliver within a matter of days.”

  “How easy would they be to make? Could someone have made a copy?” Sanjay continued.

  “I suppose. You'll have seen them yourself. There's nothing complicated about them, particularly not the one with the fixed blade.” Graeme conjectured.

  “We've heard that you're quite handy, yourself. Is it something you could have made?” Sanjay probed.

  Calum was on his feet. “Now just a minute. You can't go making accusations…”

  “Calm down, Calum,” Graeme cut in, speaking dispassionately. “It's an obvious question for them to ask. Since they know I can work in wood and metal and that I've got my own workshop, they'd be negligent not to ask.”

  “That's very considerate of you to see it that way,” Alex commented. “And the answer is…?”

  “Yes, it's something I have the ability to make. Anyone with access to cutting and grinding tools could have done it. As I said, there was nothing sophisticated about it. However, it wasn't me. You can check out my workshop if you like. You won't find any indication of me making anything like that. Besides anything else, I don't have the appropriate materials.”

  “Thank you for being so candid,” Alex continued. “I'd now like to discuss the more delicate issue of your relationship with your wife.”

  “Yes?”

  Calum sat up straight and gazed at his brother, his utterance coming more as a splutter than any coherent speech. “How can you let them treat you like this? You don't need to put yourself through it. You're the injured party here. You should be telling them to sling their hooks and get out.”

  Graeme looked tired and his voice sounded laboured as if talking down to a tiresome child to whom he'd repeated the same lesson several times before. “Why? Why should I be obstructive? My wife is dead and these men are here to help find who was responsible and bring them to justice. I want that to happen so I need to cooperate. Yes, it's painful and it's personal. Yes, I'd prefer to be doing something else, anything else. But this is where I am and what I need to do.” Then turning back towards Alex, “Okay, Inspector, what do you want me to tell you about?”

  “Let's start with the facts: how long had you been married, details of children, etcetera.”

  Graeme comfortably confirmed all the facts and statistics already known.

  “Now I need to enquire about some more intimate matters,” Alex said.

  Graeme nodded, resignedly, but Calum had had enough. He jumped to his feet. “Maybe you're prepared to accept this, but I won't dignify it by my attendance. I'll wait in the kitchen.”

  “In that case, maybe you'll prepare a pot of tea for us all,” Graeme proposed, intentionally adding salt to the wound.

  Calum stormed out without saying another word. He had no intention of accommodating his brother's request.

  “You were going to ask?” Graeme continue, displaying no emotion at his brother's tantrum.

  “Were you and your wife faithful to each other?” Alex enquired.

  “Is this really relevant?” Graeme asked. There was no passion in his question. No anger, no irritation, only tiredness.

  “We don't know yet, but we need to ask. It could be the basis for a motive,” Alex replied. “From information we've already received, we're aware that your wife could be… how shall I say, flirty, perhaps?”

  “You have heard about the books she'd published?” Graeme countered.

  “Yes, we've heard she was a successful author and she'd published a series of historical romances,” Sanjay said.

  “Well, yes, that's true and she was quite successful. But you don't know about the others?” Seeing only a blank expression, Graeme continued. “Sheila published her romantic fiction series under her own name and yes, she derived a modest income, but she made more money from her other titles. She wrote under different pseudonyms and some really quite raunchy stuff. Joy Thurley-Ridden and Fanny Fox for example, they made her a lot more in royalties. Fanny, in particular, sold very well until Amazon changed their policies and banned her books as being too explicit. They became a bit iffy about stories which had group sex or bestiality and deleted them from their listings. They still sell well through other channels, even better I suppose, because they now have the distinction of being banned by Amazon,” Graeme added with a smile. “One of the best ways to market anything is to show that it has limited availability.”

  “Sex in suburbia?” Alex asked. “Not what you would expect to be coming out of a smart bungalow in Giffnock, I suppose. But how does this relate to my question about fidelity?”

  “It doesn't. Well, not directly,” Graeme replied. “It does, though, let you see that she wasn't a regular prim and proper middle class housewife. She's always preferred the company of men and, to use your words, she was always a bit flirty. At first I thought it was all only in her imagination until I read some of her raunchier stories and then I started to have my suspicions. I've no direct evidence of Sheila screwing around, but I've got little doubt that she has been unfaithful, as you put it. If I can be frank, her sexual appetite was greater than I was able to satisfy.”

  “Did she ever admit to it? Did you not ask her?” Sanjay questioned.” He was truly shocked by what he was being told, but he tried to retain an impression of being impassive.

  “It's not the sort of thing to come up in normal conversation and I never wanted to ask, but I knew and she knew that I knew.”

  “And you weren't angry, or upset?” Alex quizzed.

  “Sauce for the goose.”

  “Sorry?” Sanjay looked confused.

  “I've had my dalliances too,” Graeme replied. “I used to travel a lot on business and there were occasions when I became lonely. I suspect it was the same for Sheila being left at home alone so she ended up looking for other company. I remember after one time I'd been away for three weeks, Sheila seemed different after I returned. She was more passionate and adventurous and I suspected she'd been with someone else. I didn't dare ask. I'd been with someone while I was away and I felt too guilty about that to quiz her. Neither of us said anything and I suppose it became harder to talk as time went on. I'm certain there were many other times for her and I know there were some for me.”

  “We need more details,” Sanjay asked. “We need to ask you who and when.”

  “I'm sure I don't need to answer that,” Graeme claimed.

  “I believe you know better than that,” Alex stated. “Under the circumstances, it's something we're entitled to ask.”

  “Everything I've told you has been offered freely and voluntarily and it's as far as I'm prepared to go for the time being. If and when it's necessary to tell you more, then I'll do so, but only in the presence of a solicitor.”

  “Okay, I'll accept that,” Alex replied. “You've been most helpful and we can leave it there for just now, but I suspect we will need to come back to you and I expect sooner rather than later.”

  Not surprisingly, Graeme couldn't find the packaging but was able to lo
cate the stamps and he printed the emails as requested. He then showed Alex and Sanjay to the door and, once alone in the car, they started to compare notes. Sanjay shook his head, as if unable to comprehend the evidence they'd gathered.

  “I never had you down as a snob,” Alex said.

  “What? Sanjay reacted.

  “You imagine because we're in a posh area that everything is sweetness and light. Well let me tell you that nothing could be further from the truth. You'll find every bit as much crime and debauchery in Giffnock as you will in Easterhouse or Drumchapel, the only difference is that here they're better able to cover it up and they can afford better lawyers to protect them and keep their indiscretions under wraps.”

  Sanjay was still shaking his head but did manage to venture, “Yes, I know, Boss. I just found his openness quite extraordinary. Do you reckon we'll need to read all her books to see if there might be any clues?”

  “If you're volunteering, I suspect it's not only to pick up clues about the case?” Alex countered.

  Sanjay's face flushed. It was the first time Alex had seen him truly flustered, trying to mouth his explanation but no words emerging.

  Chapter 8

  “I'd like to detour into Sainsburys on the way back. Sandra and I are both going to be working late. We've already stocked the fridge, but I want to pick up some snacks and drop them into my flat.”

  Sanjay considered making another comment about who was wearing the trousers, but then thought better than to voice it.

  “What are you smiling at?” Alex enquired, seeing his amused expression.

  “Nothing, nothing at all,” he responded defensively.

  Having collected an assortment of tasty morsels, selected for flavour, simplicity and being easy to compile, Alex returned to the car. He lifted his stylus and sent a text a message to advise Sandra, muttering as he did about how he hated using the touchscreen because his fingers were too meaty to properly work the keys.

  Within seconds his phone rang with her number displayed.

  “Good idea, Alex. I'll enjoy that when I get back and it'll be a lot healthier than picking up a chippie. And you texted as well, are you getting over your phobia?”

  “It's not a phobia, just an aversion,” Alex replied. “I still hate doing it, but I didn't want to call in case you were in the middle of something. Anyhow, I got some dips and tortilla chips, sliced chicken, pate and one of those nice walnut breads you like. What's more, nearly all of it was reduced to half price because the date stamp's up today.”

  “Well done, you don't get offers like that in France. They'll leave the food on the shelf until it forms a mould, then they'll move it to the cheese counter, put up the price and sell it as a speciality,” Sandra commented.

  “You have to be joking?” Alex asked.

  “Yes, of course I was joking, but there are one or two shops where it may not be too far from the truth,” she replied.

  “How's your enquiry going?”

  “Slowly, and we're trying to look into both incidents at the same time. We haven't tracked down Carson yet, but we're now even more certain he was involved. We've also picked up some pretty interesting leads on who might have been behind it.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “He was defending a case last week and really cocked it up. His client, a guy by the name of Zennick, was accused of fraud. He was a landlord who'd used multiple false identities to borrow money to buy properties, then traded them between the different names to raise even more money. He collected rent from housing benefit tenants, often when they didn't stay in the flats and he didn't even service the loans.”

  “Sounds a bit complex.”

  “Yes, it was and sufficiently so that Hardy should have been able to muddy the waters, but he didn't. His defence was inept and his client went down.”

  “And you reckon Zennick holds grudges.”

  “Could be, or he could have some friends who might have been a bit upset.”

  “Sounds plausible. It's not like Hardy to miss an opportunity.”

  “We have some thoughts there too. Two alternative theories: one, Zennick was maybe treading on the toes of Hardy's more regular clients and he was under instructions to foul up. The other is that Hardy's developed a liking for white powder and maybe he was a bit under the influence when he should have been keeping a clear head.”

  “Either way, he's underestimated Zennick, assuming it was him responsible.”

  “Too true. I'm hoping to get in to see Hardy later on, but I don't hold out much hope. Even if he does know anything, it's hardly likely he'll tell me.”

  “Hardy hardly likely to tell you? Hardy har har,” Alex mocked.

  “Oh don't, Alex. Your jokes are getting as bad as Phil's,” Sandra replied.

  “Now that really wounded me,” Alex countered, feigning being deeply affronted.

  “And you deserved it. Besides, I have more than enough to cope with without you making fun. Have you got nothing better to do with your time?”

  “Hey, just a minute, I was only trying to lighten the mood. I've got plenty to deal with too. After spending the morning at the Vicky, Sanjay and I have interviewed the victim's husband, Graeme Armstrong, and his pain-in-the-ass brother, Calum.”

  “Where do you go next?” Sandra probed.

  “Back to the ranch and see what the others have and find out if anything's in from the techies.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I guess I'd best get back to my problems. I suppose we'll catch up sooner or later,” Sandra continued.

  “I guess with all that's happening, it will more likely be 'later' than 'sooner' for both of us. Now don't overdo it,” he added, looking round furtively to ensure Sanjay wasn't eavesdropping.

  “Don't worry, I won't. And don't fuss. It doesn't make it any easier.” Sandra paused for a moment then added, “But thanks for caring,” then disengaged and the phone went dead.

  Alex stuffed the phone back into his pocket and turned to Sanjay. “Home, Jeeves.”

  “Everything okay?” he enquired, simultaneously turning on the ignition.

  * * *

  Seeing Donny and Mary at their desks, Alex signalled for them to collect coffees and gather in his office. No sooner had they settled down than they were joined by Phil and Steve.

  “You're senior officer on this,” he said turning to Sanjay. “You lead.”

  Sanjay had to suppress his smile as he took the floor and made them all aware of his day's efforts. “Now what have you got for me? Mary, you first.”

  “Right, Sarg. Donny and I started with Lionel. We went to his house in Whitecraigs. It's a large detached bungalow. He lives there with his wife, just the two of them. He's retired now, but he used to be a partner in an accountancy practice. That's how he ended up as treasurer of the writing group. He's gone from being seriously respected, carrying out high-level finance deals in a very well paid position to being moaned at as an unpaid skivvy and bookkeeper for the writing group. That's using his words.”

  “In that case, why does he do it?” Sanjay asked.

  “Exactly what I asked,” Donny interrupted. “He said it was his penance.”

  “What did he mean by that? What does he have to be penitent about?” Sanjay probed.

  “He said it was after forty years in finance, he felt he had to give something back.”

  “Please go on, Mary,” Sanjay requested.

  “Well, we ran through all the standard questions, but we didn't really come up with anything new. It gave us confirmation of what we've already been told. Lionel said he hardly knew Sheila outside of the group, they only met at meetings or to talk about committee business. He took us through to his conservatory and we were joined by Hannah, his wife. She brought in tea and had no intention of leaving us alone. She showed great concern and sympathy for the victim, but quite honestly, I think she was just looking to be near the centre of things so she'd have some tasty gossip to dish up to her friends. We did, of course, make it clear to them th
at we are at a crucial stage in our investigations and they were not to discuss anything about the case. She didn't seem too happy at that.”

  “Didn't you consider asking her to leave?” Phil asked sarcastically.

  “We thought about it,” Donny replied, tartly, “but we would have had no real justification. We were there to information gather, not to interrogate and, although present at the scene, Lionel isn't really considered a suspect. Asking her to leave would have put everything on a much more formal footing and could have made Lionel a lot more guarded in anything he told us.”

  “Maybe,” Phil stated, “but from what you said before, you didn't get much from him anyway. Perhaps he was reluctant to tell you anything in front of his wife.”

  Donny shrugged.

  “I'm not just being bloody minded,” Phil continued, “but we interviewed Aaron this afternoon and he gave a somewhat different impression.”

  “Go on,” Sanjay pressed. “Don't leave us on tenterhooks.”

  “Steve and I went to see Aaron at his office,” Phil continued. “He has an upholstery business in Finnieston, not far from the Exhibition Centre. It's quite successful, employs about twenty people. The workrooms look fairly basic, but he has a very plush showroom and his office is really quite lavish. He took us through and had his secretary bring us coffee, served in a cafetiere, no less,” Phil added, winking at Mary to note his points scoring. “Anyway, he also told us all the things we have heard already, but there's more. When talking about the Committee, he gave us the distinct impression that Lionel and Sheila knew each other very well. In fact, he all but suggested there was something going on behind the scenes, so to speak, and that certainly doesn't tie in with what Lionel said.”

  “Did he actually say anything specific?” Sanjay asked. “Maybe there was just a bit of sibling rivalry and they'd been winding each other up.”

  “I'm pretty certain it was more than that,” Phil replied. “I'm sure he wasn't planting the information. It came out more in response to when we were asking him about Sheila and what he knew of her relationships. His answers started off quite vague, but when pressed he suggested we'd be able to find out a lot more information from Lionel. It was more a case of the information being coaxed out of him and he seemed quite upset afterwards because he hadn't meant to say anything which would have caused any trouble for his brother. Once it was said, he couldn't take it back, but I'm sure he wished he could. He clammed up afterwards and hardly said any more.”