Knife After Death: A chilling crime thriller

by Irvine, Ian C. P.

  They moved backwards towards the bed, Peter reaching for her top, pulling it over her head, reaching behind her back and unclipping the bra.

  Her breasts fell free, massive, beautiful, so heavy and so soft.

  He was kissing them now, exploring them, caressing them, teasing and licking the nipples with his teeth and tongue.

  At the edge of the bed, Carolina yielded and fell backwards onto the mattress, her hands pulling away Peter's towel and reaching down to find him.

  Then she was removing her panties and pulling Peter back towards her. She lifted her legs, wrapping them around Peter's waist, one hand pulling his head towards her breasts, the other grabbing hold of his buttocks and digging her nails gently into his flesh.

  For a second Peter hovered above her, lifting up his head and looking at Carolina, questioning her, seeking approval and permission.

  She looked back at him, smiled, and he pushed gently forward, entering her.

  As he thrust deep within her, Peter felt a confusion of emotions boiling within himself. He pushed harder. Carolina moaned. He pushed deeper. Her nails bit deeper into his flesh. Faster. He moved faster. Deeper. Yet faster. Carolina moaned again.

  "Turn around," he found himself saying to her, putting his hands on her hips and gently coaxing her to turn.

  She looked up at him then, her eyes questioning him. For a moment, Peter thought that she was going to refuse, but then she began to edge over on her side, and she knelt on all fours on the mattress in front of him.

  Peter edged forward, placing his hands back on her hips and pulling her slowly back towards him. He entered her and started thrusting deeply into her from behind. He felt Carolina begin to push back against him, to build a rhythm, to press herself into him when he pushed forwards.

  He reached forward, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her waist, pulling her and guiding her on to himself.

  Peter was sweating now, pushing and pulling, fucking as hard as he possibly could. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper...

  The pressure built and built, threatening to explode and overcome them both. The stress, the strain, the pent-up emotion of the past few months, the horror, the revulsion, the excitement, it all surfaced and simultaneously collided within Peter, seeking expression and release.

  .

  Peter moved even faster, pushed deeper, fucked even harder, until finally, suddenly, something erupted within him, a white light bursting within his brain, and blanketing out all thought and emotion.

  He collapsed on top of her, exhausted and overcome, his mind empty and mercifully blank.

  Rolling onto his side, he wrapped Carolina into his arms, holding her tightly to him, and stroking her hair.

  Neither of them spoke.

  .

  Then Peter's phone rang.

  It was Alex.

  Chapter Seventy Eight

  .

  .

  Willow Farm Commune

  Wales

  May 5th

  7.30 p.m.

  .

  .

  Robert sat on the little bench at the end of his vegetable garden, thinking.

  He had done a lot of thinking recently. More thinking than he had ever done in his life before. What surprised Robert, was that he was actually quite good at it.

  "You have a good brain, Robert." Stella had said to him this morning after the group meeting. "You should use it more." She had smiled at him when she said it, and it had made Robert feel good.

  Gavin and Stella believed in him. And thanks to them, Robert had begun to believe in himself too.

  He had learned a lot since he had come to the commune, but the most important thing that he had learned was self-respect. It did not matter how much or what a person owned or had, for without self-respect, a person had nothing. It was the most important and precious commodity in the world, and Robert knew that only one person could give that to him. Himself.

  Robert had come to realise that all his life he had been searching for respect from others, not realising that unless he respected himself first, the respect of others would have no meaning.

  Something caught Robert's eye, and he walked forward, bending down and kneeling on the grass beside the edge of his allotment. He leant forward, a smile blossoming on his face.

  One of the seeds which Robert had planted had sprouted, and was now poking through the ground above: a tiny green shoot pushing through the dirt that surrounded it.

  A new life. A new beginning.

  .

  Robert had already packed his bags. He had not yet told Stella and Gavin, but he was sure that they would understand. He would be leaving first thing in the morning.

  .

  --------------------

  Knuttsford

  May 5th

  The Fox and Hounds

  8.00 p.m.

  .

  Carolina lay beside Peter, looking into his eyes.

  There was something about his eyes that fascinated Carolina. From the first second that Carolina had seen Peter, she had been strangely attracted to this man. She knew almost nothing about him, and yet, she had just made love to him, drawn irresistibly to come to his door, knock, and offer herself to him.

  Carolina had never done anything like that in her life before. She could not understand her own behaviour.

  And yet, she had enjoyed it.

  Loved it.

  Wanted it again.

  She sat up, resting on her elbows, looking down at him.

  "Do you really have to leave?" she asked.

  "Yes, I am sorry. The timing isn’t exactly brilliant, is it? But that was one of my contacts in the local police force. I have to go and meet him now. They are waiting for me at the police station. I think I told you that my Editor has asked me to follow up on some enquiries for the paper whilst I am down here. I've got to go. Sorry..."

  "Do you enjoy your work?"

  "Yes. I do."

  Silence.

  "Can I see you again?"

  Peter turned to face her, lifting a hand to stroke her face.

  "Don't worry. I'm not running away. Just going down the road to speak to someone. If you're still here when I get back, maybe I can walk you home?"

  "That would be nice," she replied.

  Then she got up, dressed, and left.

  .

  When Peter got to the police station, Alex was waiting for him outside, smoking a cigarette.

  "I didn't know you smoked," Peter remarked as he walked towards him.

  "I don't. I gave up several years ago."

  "Congratulations." Peter replied.

  "Thanks for coming back. Voluntarily. I think we need to talk. Come inside."

  They walked into the station. He followed Alex into a room at the back of the station. A police officer was sitting at a table. He stood up as Peter entered. Alex closed the door.

  The policeman leaned across the table and hit a button on a recording machine on the desk. "8.15 pm May 5th, Peter Nicolson has just entered the room with Constable Alex Gibbs from Ironbridge. Also present in the room is Constable Davis."

  "Please sit down." Alex said.

  Peter sat.

  "Can I get you some tea? Coffee?"

  "No, I'm fine."

  "Good."

  Alex sat down opposite him.

  "We have a problem. The local police, quite correctly, want to take over. The body you have led us to is on their ground and this is their police station. I've spent the past couple of hours talking about you to the local Detective Inspector. He's very keen to meet you. I think that he is even keener to arrest you again. I've told him everything you told me, everything I know. He's old school. If you think I need to lighten up, you don't want to meet him. He knows about your alibi for the body in Ironbridge, but he's keen to arrest you for the suspected murder of the woman here in Knuttsford. You might have an alibi for the body you found in my wood on my turf, but what about the murder here?"

  Peter tried to speak, but Alex
raised a hand, cautioning him to be quiet.

  "We'll cross that bridge later, once we know when the victim was killed. For now though I wanted to give you another chance to talk with me. To tell me 'the truth'. You voluntarily came to me with this, so for now, the local DI is willing to let me talk with you some more. I'm hoping that you will tell me what's really going on. Without any mention of clairvoyants. I should caution you, that if you do mention them again, and it turns out not to be true, I will personally see that we throw the book at you for wasting police time. It will not be good, I promise you."

  "I can't help feel but this is an ambush," Peter replied. He was seething with anger. "You got me to come to the station under false pretences..."

  "I would also caution you not to talk to me like you did yesterday and before. Things have changed since this afternoon. This is a police station. You are the suspect in a new murder. Please be more respectful."

  Peter sat quietly, trying to contain his anger. He was not stupid. He knew that Alex was right. Losing his temper right now was not exactly going to help.

  "I need to think. Can I have some time alone?"

  "Yes. But before we leave, please consider this. You asked me in Ironbridge if I would help you. If I can, I will. But you have to help me to help you. Tell me what you know Peter. Tell me the truth."

  The policeman and Alex rose. "The time is 8.23 p.m. Constable Alex Gibbs is leaving the room. Interview suspended."

  .

  --------------------

  .

  Ten minutes later, Peter told the policeman to call Alex back.

  Peter was in a difficult place. He had few options open to him now, and he knew that it was time to drop the act and just tell the truth.

  In some ways, he felt sorry for Alex. Peter knew that he was just doing his job and in spite of everything, he quite liked the man. But if Alex had found it difficult to believe Peter when he talked about the ‘clairvoyant’, how would he be able to believe him now when he started to talk about ‘cellular memory’ phenomena?

  Maybe it was a mistake not telling the truth sooner, but, perhaps this could potentially still be turned to Peter's advantage: if Alex could be convinced that Peter was telling the truth, together they could hopefully force the NHS and his consultant to reveal KK's true identity.

  .

  Alex came back into the room, started the recording and sat down.

  "Alex, I'm going to tell you a story now. It’s a horror story. Except, actually it's not a story. It's all true, and I have to live with it every day of my life..."

  "But before I start, I want to show you something..."

  Peter stood up. He lifted his T-shirt, turning around and showing Alex and the other policeman the scars from his operations.

  Peter had caught them both by surprise. They both stared. Speechless.

  "What I am going to tell you is all perfectly true. It's hard to believe, but it is true. And when I have told you, I am going to ask you for your help to end my nightmare. You see, I know who killed the woman in Ironbridge, and the woman whose body lies at the bottom of the Grey Mare's Small Tail. It is the same man who killed a woman in Switzerland three years ago, and another woman somewhere else. The good news is that the murderer is dead. The bad news is that his kidney's are alive inside my body..."

  Alex and the policeman looked confused.

  "Okay, sit back, relax, and enjoy the story...and when you are sitting comfortably, I'll begin..."

  "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, in a council estate called Craigmillar just outside of Edinburgh, there lived a thug called Big Wee Rab..."

  .

  --------------------

  .

  Peter was finished. He had told them everything. Every last detail.

  Alex stood up and walked around the room, trying to take it all in.

  "...and this is all true?" he asked, knowing how Peter would reply before he even opened his mouth.

  "Every word of it."

  "Come on Peter, this is even worse than asking me to believe in clairvoyance."

  "I didn't tell you any of this before, because I knew you wouldn't believe it. I don't understand it, and if you go on the internet it seems that the scientists don't understand it either. No one does. But the fact is that this is happening. It's happening to me and to hundreds, maybe thousands of others, and no one can tell us why or how to stop it! Luckily, not everyone receives organs donated from a psychopathic serial killer. Others get musicians, or artists or writers. I got a bloody murderer. And the reason I'm trying to track down all the murders that 'KK' committed is so that I can then hopefully find out his identity and lay the ghosts of all his victims to rest. Hopefully then, this will all stop!"

  "Why? Why will it all stop then?" Alex asked.

  Peter was silent.

  "I don't know...maybe it won't. But for some reason, I think that it will. Susie, my colleague at the Evening News that I mentioned earlier, thinks it will be like performing a personal exorcism. Maybe she's right."

  Alex came back to the table and sat down.

  "Peter, this is a lot to take in. It's going to take a while to get my head around all of this. I will need time to think about it."

  "Fine. But can I suggest what we do next? Our plan of action, if you will?"

  "Okay, tell me your thoughts."

  "Firstly, I suggest that you do your own research on the internet. Convince yourself that this is a real phenomena that's affecting me, and compare it with the experiences of others who've reported stuff on the net. Then, I suggest that together you and I call my renal consultant at the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh. He can confirm a lot of what I have just said. I should say that although I've told him I've been having dreams, I haven't told him what I dream or see when I have the visions...For a while I wondered if I was going mad, and I didn't want to get sectioned and locked up!...The thing is, the consultant knows the identity of KK ...all the donor’s details are in my medical file. I've asked the consultant to tell me, but he can't. It's against procedure and data protection and privacy laws. But, once we explain to him everything that's been going on, then surely we can force him to reveal the identity of my kidneys' donor, and bingo, then we've got 'KK'!"

  "Secondly, you should talk to Sergeant Cameron Angus of the Mid-Lothian Police Constabulary. I've told him everything. He knows I'm here, and he'll vouch for me."

  "Thirdly, you can talk to Susie, my colleague at the News. She knows all about this too. She's working with me on a story for the newspaper about the cellular memory phenomena."

  "Fourth, you and I need to sit down, and we need to talk about the dreams and visions I described to you. I think there are at least two other bodies that we need to discover: another woman, and a man- the one who is possibly dressed as a Second World War German soldier...?"

  Peter saw the confusion appear on Alex's face. "I don't understand that one either, but that's what I saw," Peter continued..."Anyway, we need to discuss what we can do to try and find them."

  "Fifth, and at the bottom of the list, I know of one other way to rule me out from all of this. But that involves getting a doctor to extract a sample of flesh from my kidneys, from which you can get some DNA and compare it to the blood on the spade, and any DNA you find on the bodies or rubber matting. They should match, thus proving that KK did it, and that I am in the clear!"

  Alex looked at his watch.

  "It's getting late..."

  "I've got the mobile number of my renal consultant. Why don't we call him just now...maybe we can still get hold of him?"

  Alex thought about it for a second.

  "Tomorrow. I need to think about this first." Alex replied, then leaned across the table and said to the recording machine, "It's 9.41 p.m. The interview is suspended for the evening..."

  Alex finished the sentence, switched the machine off and looked across at Peter.

  "Are you charging me or am I allowed to go home?" Peter asked quickly, before Alex could
speak.

  "We won't be charging you this evening. So you're allowed to go back to the pub, if you want. Make sure you take your medication and get the sleep and rest you need. I'm going to have to stay there this evening too. I like your proposed plan of action. Tomorrow morning we will enact it. But don't leave town. Okay?"

  Peter smiled.

  "Why would I want to? Tomorrow you're going to help me identify KK. Once and for all!"

  Chapter Seventy Nine

  .

  .

  The Fox and Hounds

  Knuttsford

  May 5th

  9.50 p.m.

  .

  .

  Peter hurried back along the road from the police station, having left the car at the pub earlier on. Knuttsford wasn't exactly that large. Peter had timed it: it was a twenty minute walk from one end of town to the other.

  It had been a bad evening so far. Peter always liked to think that every cloud had a silver lining. In this case there were two things to be positive about. Firstly, he had been released...he had been expecting to be arrested again. The fact that he had been let go, for now, was on the face of it quite positive. Perhaps he was finally getting through to Constable Alex Gibbs.

  The second glimmer of light in his otherwise rotten day, was that he was just about to see Carolina. He had not yet had any chance to think about their meeting this evening, but now he was able to think about it, he couldn't wait to see her again.

  .

  As he walked in the door, the barman caught his eye with a wave of his finger, and beckoned Peter over.

  "Can I have a word, lad?" he asked.

  Peter was immediately on edge. He scanned the bar for Carolina but she was nowhere to be seen. Was something up?

  He followed the barman round to the back room.

  "Carolina gave me this to give to you. She had to go home. She said you'd understand."

  The landlord of the pub handed Peter an envelope, watching inquisitively as Peter took it from his hand.

  "Can I give you a word of advice, lad?" the landlord asked, continuing to speak before Peter could give him an answer. "Watch how you go with my Carolina, will you? She's a wonderful lass. But she's been through a lot recently, and I wouldn't want to see her hurt again? You seem like a nice lad, but be nice to her, okay? Don't mess her around."