Knife After Death: A chilling crime thriller

by Irvine, Ian C. P.

  Fuck!

  All this way, and I can't do anything!

  And what if this is not the exact spot where the body is? He had just judged the distance from the standing stone as being five metres...he could be way out...he didn't have a map or anything...this was all guess work! And... if his dream and the local sightings of KK were correct...KK was a big man, much bigger than Peter, ...so one step to KK would be larger than one step to Peter. Plus...plus, he had also assumed that when he got to the standing stone KK had turned directly left...realistically, he couldn't tell the exact angle which KK had taken....

  In other words, the body could be anywhere within quite a large area, and with it being buried so deep, there was no way that he could dig the whole place up. It would take him weeks!...And that was if it was there in the first place.

  Yet, in spite of all the doubts and the questions, Peter knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

  This was the spot.

  The interesting question was, had he tracked the location down...had Peter found this spot, or had KK led him here?

  Who was in charge?

  Was he just a puppet with KK pulling the strings, or was Peter doing this all of his own accord.

  Whose thoughts were now ruling his brain? KK's or Peter's?

  The question chilled him to the core.

  .

  Peter stood up.

  A sudden thought had occurred to him. A Peter thought. Not a KK thought.

  He knew what to do. He knew exactly how to find where the body was.

  But to do it he would need a little help. He dialled a number on his mobile.

  "Alex, hi, it's Peter. Can you meet me in twenty minutes in front of No. 8? There's something I want to ask you...in person."

  Chapter Fifty Nine

  .

  .

  The Craigmillar Estate

  Edinburgh

  May 2nd

  3 p.m.

  .

  .

  Sergeant Cameron Angus stood over the body, looking down at the crumpled heap at his feet with a mixture of emotions.

  It saddened him, as it always did when he was called to a scene like this, to find the body of someone so young. He was just a kid. Everyone made mistakes when they were kids...everyone fucked up in some way or another...It was, after all, how we found our way in life. We made mistakes. We learned from them. We became better human beings.

  Things were different now though. Kids today got in with the wrong crowd much earlier on, the mistakes they made had much greater ramifications, more impact on their lives. And in many cases, like this one here, they never got the chance to question what they did wrong. There was no opportunity to learn.

  They were just dead.

  On the other hand, it was true that quite a few of the kids who ended up like this, were, put very basically, the scum of the Earth. And in some very primordial, Darwinist view of natural selection, perhaps it could be said that they died because there wasn't a place for them on this Earth. That the Earth was better off without them, when they were gone. That the process of natural selection had selected them not to exist.

  There was also another view: Angus had failed. Yet again. It was part of his job to work with the youngsters, to help them learn that there was more to life than gangs and knives and drugs. He was now the Community Officer for Craigmillar, and this was yet another body on his turf.

  And lastly, there was the official view.

  This was obviously a murder. Murder was against the law. Sergeant Angus was the law. This was therefore against everything that he stood for.

  The thing was, however, this was not a usual murder. This one was 'special'. And in spite of himself, it made Sergeant Cameron Angus smile.

  The body that lay crumpled on the ground in front of him was that of none other than Wee Eck. Or 'Big Wee Eck' as he had started to call himself since his former hero 'Big Wee Rab' had disappeared off the scene and from the estate.

  With Rab's departure, the other members of his gang, -Tam, Davie, Wee Eck, and Jamsie- had all been assimilated by the 'Boys from Porty' gang. They had begun to sell drugs on the estate, and as Sergeant Angus suspected, were now also involved in other forms of serious crime such as armed robbery, and prostitution.

  From experience, Sergeant Angus had come to realise that when dealing with anyone who was teetering on the edge of a career in crime, there seemed to be a point beyond which redemption was difficult or not possible. With Rab's departure, demise, or possible murder, the rest of his small gang had gone completely over to the Dark Side. Before they were scum, but still redeemable. Now they were all too far gone.

  Especially Wee Eck, who was now dead.

  The question was: "Who killed him?"

  Which was why Sergeant Angus was now smiling.

  He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it.

  Wee Eck had been shot. A single bullet in through the front of the head, and then cleanly out of the back.

  On the front of the body, someone, most likely the person who had shot him in the first place, had attached a note.

  It was a large piece of white paper, probably computer printer paper, on to which someone had stuck lots of little letters which had been cut out of a newspaper or a magazine. He hadn't seen anything like it for years...the sort of thing you used to see in old films when kidnappers delivered a ransom note.

  The letters were from lots of different fonts, and in a variety of different sizes.

  The message was simple. It read:

  .

  "ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.

  IF YOU SELL DRUGS OR DO CRIME ON THIS ESTATE, EXPECT TO DIE.

  Signed,

  CRAIGMILLAR RESIDENTS FOR LAW AND ORDER 'CREW'. "

  .

  Sergeant Cameron Angus pulled out his mobile and called in the police backup, the forensics team and an ambulance.

  Officially, this was wrong. But a little, tiny, teeny-weeny part of him couldn't help but think that whoever had done this deserved a medal.

  Chapter Sixty

  .

  .

  Ironbridge

  May 2nd

  5 p.m.

  .

  .

  Peter was sitting on the wall just outside of No. 8. He was waiting for Alex to turn up.

  Something was bugging him, gnawing away at him. He had a nagging feeling that he was missing something.

  It was something that he had seen. Something that he seen in a dream, but had also seen again in real life...

  It had something to do with the house...but what?

  Impatient with waiting, and frustrated at not being able to place what it was that was bugging him so much, he got up, opened the gate to No. 8 and walked down the garden path. He followed the path around the side of the house, and into the large back garden.

  He stood on the patch of grass at the back, looking up at the window above, now boarded up and sealed.

  He turned around, looking towards the wall at the bottom of the garden, where a large hedge separated this garden from the one behind it further down the hill. In one corner, on the left hand side, there was a small shed. Outside there was a wheelbarrow.

  Looking back towards the house, on the left hand side close to the back entrance was a greenhouse. The door was closed, but inside he could see a hoe, and large garden fork and a spade propped up against the glass from the inside.

  Just then a voice behind him took him by surprise and he spun around to find Alex watching him.

  "I think I would prefer it if you refrained from walking around here, at least when you are not accompanied."

  "Sorry..." Peter offered in return, and then said. "Do you mind if we go and sit in your car for a second. I would like to talk with you where we can't be overheard..."

  "Certainly, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

  Peter followed him around to the front street and they both climbed into the police car.

  "So,...how may I help you, Peter? Is there someth
ing else that you may have thought of that you would like to tell me?"

  "Yes." Peter replied. "I think I might know where the body of the woman is....But first of all...have you found anything out about a missing person called 'Valentia'?"

  "As of yet, no. However, I have passed the information on to a colleague, and I have asked if she could arrange for another officer to look into it. I hope to hear something back soon...So, Peter, may I ask how it is that you just happen to know where this body might be? Has your clairvoyant come up with something new that she decided to tell you?"

  "Yes...By the way, I can sense that you really don't buy into this whole 'clairvoyant thing', but please, just let's run with it for now. Either it will prove to be right, or it's a pile of tosh, but let's just see, okay? Anyway, I think we might know soon enough."

  "Peter, you are certainly correct that I don't buy into this 'clairvoyant thing', as you put it. And as a police officer, I don't mind saying that I am definitely very suspicious of anyone who, like you, comes across information that they shouldn't know, or under normal circumstances would not be expected to have access to. There is always an explanation other than 'spiritual guidance'. Always. In general, clairvoyance is not a phenomena that bares scientific scrutiny. It is a con. Perpetrated on weak and needy people, by others who should know better."

  "This is not a con Alex. Honestly…Anyway, let's just see. I have a lead. I don't know if it's real or valid or will help us in anyway, but my gut instinct tells me that it will, so I want to ask you to support me and see if it does. I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you what I know and help you solve the mystery of No. 8, if you do your best to support me if I need your help again in the next few days or weeks. I've already got one police friend on the force up in Edinburgh who will help, but he's in the wrong country on the wrong police force. I need a friend down here, and I think you could be the guy... What do you say?"

  "Peter, I am a police officer. We met informally, in my own home, but now I am afraid I have to act rather more formally and professionally. The fact is that I don't know you, and you are asking a lot."

  "I know. But Alex, you've nothing to lose."

  Peter could almost see the cogs turning in Alex's mind.

  "Come on Alex, this could be the biggest crime in Ironbridge in a hundred years, and I'm offering to potentially help you solve the murder...at least, I'm offering to help you find the body. The next step after that is to find the murderer, and if this pans out, I'm pretty sure we can do that too. Are you going to help or pass this one up?"

  Alex looked at him squarely in the eyes.

  "If I agree to help you, then you will promise me too, that you will not lie to me, if I ever ask you a direct question. Promise?"

  The constable held out his hand.

  "Done." Peter agreed.

  They shook.

  "Okay, there are two things." Peter started, "Firstly, at the back of the house there is a greenhouse. In the greenhouse there is a spade. I haven't looked at it yet...I was just about to, but you interrupted me...if you look I think you may find some blood stains on the handle. The clairvoyant told me to look there for it. She seems to think that the murderer used it to dig the hole in which he put the body. She thinks that he cut his leg on a tree branch in the forest, wiped the blood away with his hand, and then smeared it on the handle later when he carried the spade back here. It's worth a look. If there is blood there...then maybe you can get the blood and DNA of the killer...just a thought. Maybe it's all 'crap', but hey, why not check it out?"

  Alex opened his mouth to say something, but Peter raised his hand to interrupt.

  "Secondly...Have you ever seen that programme on TV called 'Time Team?' "

  "Yes."

  "Good..., then you will know what I mean when I talk about 'GPR' or Ground Penetrating Radar?"

  "Absolutely, the police have started using it quite frequently. There have been quite a few high profile cases in Manchester and in Motherwell in Scotland..."

  "How long would it take for you to get hold of a GPR unit?"

  "We could have one here in two hours if I make a formal request for one...but the one we use is much bigger than the handheld ones you see on the TV. It’s pretty big...like a mini-golf cart."

  "So soon?"

  "I have connections..."

  "Please use them. Call them now if you can, and put them on standby. I'll take you to the place where I think the body from No. 8 is, and then you can decide whether or not to call them in. If it's that big, I suggest they bring it in via a helicopter, and drop it down into a small clearing in the forest."

  "Where?"

  "Over there." Peter pointed to the forest. "Follow me...I'll fill you in as we go. You can call them as we walk. And don't worry about mobile reception. There's plenty of it, where I'm taking you..."

  .

  --------------------

  .

  The helicopter hovered overhead, lowering the GPR unit slowly down to a small area about three metres from the base of the mast. There was no wind, and thankfully there was still plenty of light. An hour later and they would have had to wait until the next day.

  Once on the ground, it took twenty minutes to get it in place. Peter had already told Alex everything about what he thought they were looking for, but he now repeated it again to the 'geek' that came with the cart.

  "Basically, we are looking for a body. I think it's buried about this deep...," and Peter showed him by holding his hand up to his shoulder. "...And I think the murderer covered the body with quite a few large stones, or large slabs after he dragged the body into the hole. The constable here thinks that the grave was probably dug last summer, if there is a body here, so I don't know if you will be able to pick up any anomalies relating to the density of the soil. But I'm hoping that you will be able to find the stones that are lying on top of the body...if it's there. I've marked out the area that I would like you to search, if you can?"

  The geek with the cart looked at the constable for confirmation and the authority to proceed. The constable nodded.

  The young man that came with the cart, switched it on, pressed a few buttons, said aloud "Fingers crossed..." and the cart jolted and moved slowly forward.

  .

  An hour later, they huddled around a laptop that sat attached to the top of the cart, and the young man pointed to the screen.

  "There...those are the stones you were looking for. They cover an area just over one and a half metres long. They stand out like a sore thumb from the rest of the ground around, which is all just soil and dead tree roots."

  Alex looked at Peter.

  Without saying anything else he pulled out his mobile and dialled a number.

  Three hours later a police perimeter had been installed, flash lights had been put in place, a large yellow tent had been put up over the area where the body was suspected to be, and the first spade had been inserted into the ground.

  Chapter Sixty One

  .

  .

  Ironbridge

  May 3rd

  02.30 a.m.

  .

  .

  The earth from the hole had been piled up and bagged and put on the side of the suspected grave. If a body was found, it would all be taken away and examined in fine detail at a later date.

  Peter and Alex stood at the side of the large hole, looking down at the floodlit row of stones that had been unveiled at the bottom of the trench.

  The trench had been widened on either side of the row of stones, allowing enough space for two people to stand and work on either side.

  A metal frame was lowered down, enabling someone to sit or lie directly above the stones, and inspect whatever it was beneath without disturbing it.

  A police team and an army of forensic experts had been working solidly for hours, ensuring that standard procedures were followed at every point, just in case this did not turn out to be a false alarm.

  They were just about to remove the first of the stones
at one end of the trench.

  Peter looked on into the hole with a mixture of fear, foreboding and excitement. Part of him hoped that the rest of the hole was going to be empty, that this was indeed just a hole, and not a grave. The other half of him knew exactly what they were going to find.

  Peter had been here before. While watching the earth being slowly removed from the ground, twice he had experienced short flashbacks to when KK had been standing in the hole, digging, sweating, toiling in the middle of the night, just as the police were doing now.

  .

  As the first stone was removed the floodlights revealed a dark bundle beneath. More stones were lifted, and some earth was brushed off whatever it was beneath, revealing what looked like a dark, rolled up carpet.

  "Rubber matting. The body is rolled up inside it..." Peter said quietly. Alex turned and looked at him. From where they were standing, it was not at all obvious what it was. How did Peter know that?

  Alex said nothing.

  The last stone was removed, and more earth was then carefully lifted from around the edges of whatever it was.

  Suddenly two of the people in the trench were down on their knees looking at something and photographing it.

  "What is it? What have you found?" Alex asked.

  "A foot." A young man looked up and shouted from behind his protective mask. "It's the bones of a foot, sticking out of what looks like a rubber mat that has been rolled up around it. I think there is a body inside."

  Alex shot Peter a quick look, then shouted back into the trench. "Can you tell, ...is it a male or female foot?"

  The female leader of the forensic team stood up from examining the foot and gave them the answer they had been hoping for.

  "It's female. And from the size and condition of the bones, my first impression is that they belong to someone between the ages of twenty-five and thirty years old."

  Alex nodded.

  "Thanks Chrisy." The constable left the side of the now confirmed grave and walked over to speak briefly to another police officer who was standing at the entrance to the tent.