Prosper Snow Series

by Shaun Jeffrey

  If people had kids, the best place for them to hide their personal belongings was inside toys, mainly because kids’ rooms were generally so messy a burglar wouldn’t have time to go through them, but people weren’t that smart and they relied on the usual places such as under the mattress, in cereal boxes, old teapots and biscuit tins. Many people didn’t even bother hiding their valuables, imagining they were never going to be burgled.

  From a website search conducted while planning the job, Rivers knew who was registered living at the same abode and the neighbouring property prices, which allowed him to ascertain if the area was affluent and worth his while robbing. Fortunately, this particular area was. The widow’s name was Melissa, and having seen her earlier, he guessed that she was in her early thirties. Not that he felt guilty robbing her at such a sad time in her life – he had a living to make.

  On a good day, he could steal enough cash, jewellery and small ornaments that one raid a month kept him solvent. He always targeted people in affluent areas, as there was no point robbing from the poor – he wasn’t that cruel. He glanced at his watch. 12:32 p.m.

  Staging the break-ins when the family would be attending the funeral service gave him a good couple of hours to search the house. Half the time, the robberies weren’t even reported as the victims didn’t know they’d been robbed. He never caused much physical damage when entering the property, never left a mess, and he only took as much as he could carry, selecting a few choice items that his well trained eye told him he could shift to make it worth his while. So far, he guessed he could make about £600 from his stash, which was nowhere near enough.

  Back out in the hallway, he opened the door next to the kitchen. Darkness stretched down the steps before him and a musty smell filled the air. Spying a switch on the wall, he turned on the light and a bare bulb flickered to life at the foot of the stairs. Rivers descended, finding himself in a cellar that stretched the length of the house. Cardboard boxes and assorted old pieces of furniture dotted the room, along with a couple of racks of wine and more toys including a wooden fort and small scooters. Before he had time to investigate further, Rivers heard a vehicle pull into the drive and he froze.

  Who the hell could have come back now?

  He crept up the stairs, heard a key turning in the lock; started to hyperventilate. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it wouldn’t move; felt as though it was expanding, choking him. His heartbeat drummed inside his ears like a metronome.

  Boom boom, boom boom … the internal percussion. A dizzy sensation swept over him and he swayed slightly. Afraid he would fall down the steps, he leaned against the wall to steady himself.

  Footsteps echoed across the laminate flooring outside the door, getting closer. Rivers held his breath, body tensed ready to flee. The footsteps grew louder, closer; just outside the door, then they petered away as the person walked past.

  Rivers breath exploded out of his mouth and he inhaled, filling his lungs. From his memory of the building’s layout, he knew the person was in the kitchen, his assumption confirmed when he heard running water and the clatter of a cupboard opening. Next he heard the chink of glass.

  With this perhaps his only chance, he eased the door open, peered out to check that the coast was clear and then scurried along the short hallway towards the front door without looking back. When he reached it, he turned the knob, pulled the door open and ran along the drive, past a nondescript four by four Range Rover out onto the road and towards his waiting car, withdrawing his keys as he ran and pressing the button to deactivate the central locking.

  Once at the car, he yanked the door open, threw his backpack on the passenger seat, thrust the key into the ignition, turned it and gunned the engine before speeding away. As he drove, he glanced in his rear-view mirror, relieved not to see anyone in pursuit and a grin split his lips.

  Now that was a fucking buzz.

  CHAPTER 5

  Prosper sank into the leather settee and looked across at his son, Leon, as he got to grips with battling creatures on his Wii console.

  “I’m the best dragon slayer there is.” He smiled enthusiastically as he glanced at his dad before wielding the control like a sword to dispatch another monster.

  Prosper smiled back, the expression dissolving when his son turned away. Stroking the stubble on his jaw, Prosper stood up and walked through to the kitchen where his wife, Natasha, was cooking supper. He glanced at her leg brace, a result of the car crash a couple of years ago that permanently cracked her fragile beauty. The memory of that night had played out so many times in his head, but it was becoming a little fuzzy around the edges, and even though Natasha tried to convince him that it wasn’t his fault, he just couldn’t accept it. Especially when it had been him driving the car.

  “Are you that hungry you can’t wait?”

  “No, I just came in to say I’m not really hungry at all.”

  Natasha frowned. “I’ve made lots of pasta now.”

  “Sorry.”

  She scratched around the buckle on the top of the leg brace. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m just not hungry.”

  Natasha pursed her lips. “I know you well enough to know when there’s something up … It’s not work again is it? Has something happened?”

  Prosper shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He walked across, put an arm around her shoulder and kissed her on top of the head. “I need to pop out for a while.”

  “Pop out where?”

  “I’m going to see Wolfe.”

  Natasha pulled back. “What for?”

  “Because I haven’t seen him in a while.”

  “Perhaps that’s for the best.”

  Prosper frowned. “I thought you liked him.”

  “I do, it’s just, you know, after all that happened with that killer …”

  “It’s exactly because of what happened that I want to talk to him. He’s the only real friend I have left.”

  “And what, I’m not your friend too? You can talk to him but you can’t talk to me, is that it?”

  “Calm down. It’s nothing of the sort. It’s a man thing.” He smiled, hoped it looked disarming.

  “Well what time are you going to be back?”

  Prosper shrugged. “I shouldn’t be too late.”

  “Do you want me to save you something to eat?”

  Prosper nodded, then kissed her on the cheek and walked out of the house.

  When he reached Wolfe Weaver’s abode, Prosper parked in the driveway and exited the car. He stared at his friend’s extensive property, which had been designed in the rule of thirds to suit his artistic temperament: three floors, each encompassing a third of the structure, entrance one third of the way along, windows one third in, one third up. Everything about the building had been meticulously planned. Nothing was random.

  When he reached the door, Prosper kept his finger on the doorbell until the door opened.

  “Prosper, what brings you round here?” Wolfe stared at Prosper with his perpetually dark eyes, held his hand out to shake, and then, as was his way, feigned a punch to Prosper’s stomach.

  Prosper forced a grin. “Just needed someone to talk to and after exhausting my phone book, I came to W in the listings.”

  “Nice to know I come so far down the list.” He grinned. “Come in, come in. You know you’re always welcome.” He stepped aside; allowing Prosper to enter, then he shut the door and proceeded along the hallway.

  Prosper walked behind him, watching the way Wolfe’s long black ponytail flicked to and fro. Examples of Wolfe’s artwork adorned the way, comprising paintings and sculptures – the sculptures had taken on a macabre aspect since the Oracle case, but they were selling well by all accounts, and Wolfe had capitalised on his part in the proceedings. Prosper stared at the white alabaster sculpture of a body seemingly split from head to groin like a banana. He had even sculpted the innards as accurately as he could.

  Wolfe led the way through to the kitchen. “C
an I offer you a drink?” He poured a measure of whisky into a tumbler.

  “I’m driving.”

  “Well a small one won’t hurt. Besides, I’m sure your buddies in the force wouldn’t prosecute you if they pulled you over.” He laughed.

  Buddies! Prosper couldn’t call any of his work colleagues ‘buddies’. He accepted the drink and knocked it back before setting the glass down on the worktop.

  “So what do you want to talk about?”

  “Its work related.”

  Wolfe raised his eyebrows, accentuating his chiselled cheeks.

  “There was a report of a body the other day. When I arrived at the scene to investigate, I saw the body had been butchered.”

  “Nice.”

  “Hardly.” He hated his friend’s power of understatement. “Anyway, I hadn’t been there long when a stranger arrived and took me off the case.”

  “A stranger?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know who he was, but he seemed to know me. I don’t even know who he worked for really, just some branch of MI5. Probably some higher echelon I’ve never bloody heard of.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Wolfe sipped at his whisky.

  “Well the man insinuated that he knew something about the Oracle case; that he knew I’d been … prudent with the truth.”

  “He’s probably just guessing.”

  “But why? Why bring it up?”

  Wolfe shrugged. “Dunno. Perhaps he was just trying to feel you out.”

  “Feel me out?”

  “You know, put you off guard.”

  “So why, in the next breath, did he ask me to join his team?”

  “Can’t all be bad then.”

  “Well I just don’t like it. You haven’t been talking about what we did, have you?”

  Wolfe almost choked on his whisky. “Talking! You really think I’d want to tell anyone that we’d killed someone because a so called friend asked us to. I’m not bloody Ty – God rest his soul.”

  “Since when have you been religious?”

  “Since all that happened. It can’t hurt to carry a little heavenly insurance in the form of belief.”

  “Bollocks. You haven’t got a religious bone in your body.”

  Wolfe winked. “You know that, and I know that, let’s just make sure he doesn’t.” He rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling.

  “Well I just thought I’d better give you a heads up in case anyone comes knocking.”

  “You’re worrying about nothing.”

  Prosper hoped Wolfe was right, but deep down, he didn’t think he was.

  CHAPTER 6

  “There must be something about the bodies that were found.” Prosper stared at the communications officer manning the radio.

  The woman shook her head, making her curly brown hair bounce like springs. “There’s nothing on file.”

  “Sharon, you sent me to investigate, so you must remember something about it.” He spoke calmly, adding a convivial tone to his voice.

  Sharon shook her head again.

  Prosper leaned closer to the seated woman and adopted a worried expression. “I’m just concerned that they’re keeping me out of the loop because they think I’m not up to the job any more. I’ve heard rumours, you know, cutbacks. I can’t afford to lose my job.”

  Sharon pursed her red painted lips, one delicate eyebrow arched in thought. “Well there is something … and you call yourself a detective.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. So what can you tell me?”

  “Well the woman who found the body, she went for counselling at the hospital. Perhaps she could tell you something.”

  Prosper winked at her. “You’re in the wrong job.”

  The automatic doors slid open and Prosper made his way towards the hospital reception where he waited patiently in line until reaching the front of the queue.

  “Yes.” The man behind the safety glass pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his bulbous nose and peered at Prosper through the thick lenses.

  Prosper removed his identification and held it up to the glass. “Morning. I’m just wondering whether you can help me. A woman was brought in on Monday morning for counselling after discovering a dead body.”

  The man frowned. “And?”

  “Well you wouldn’t believe it, but the officer who brought her in was just a rookie, and he forgot to take her details.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s the only potential lead we’ve got on the murder case. Talk about incompetent, but I don’t want the young lad to lose his job over it, so I’m trying to cover for him, and if I can get the details ...”

  The man nodded. “Sounds like you work with the same incompetent people we have working here.” He typed something on the keyboard in front of him. “Monday morning you said?”

  “Yes, she came in for counselling after what she’d seen.”

  “Well it’s your lucky day.” He printed something off and passed it through the gap in the glass.

  “Thank you. I’m sure the lad involved will appreciate this.” Prosper accepted the paper and walked out of the hospital.

  The woman who found the body lived in a modern semidetached house on one of the new housing estates. Prosper stood in the porch and rang the bell. A dog started yapping inside the building and the door opened.

  “Quiet Sukie,” the middle aged, red haired woman who answered the door said, angling her foot to hold back the small white poodle. “Can I help you?” She turned to face Prosper.

  “Veronica Dawson. I’m DCI Prosper Snow. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the body you discovered.”

  Veronica visibly blanched, making her freckles more pronounced, and she shut her eyes for a moment, then swallowed and patted her chest. “Sorry, just the thought of it makes me feel sick.” She paused. “I thought I told everything to those men the other day. They told me I wouldn’t be questioned again and not to talk about it to anyone.”

  “Yes, sorry about that. Different departments you see, and sometimes there’s a lack of communication. Bureaucracy, hey.” He arched his eyebrows and shrugged. “I just have a few more questions and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Veronica inhaled sharply and then opened the door wider while shooing the dog back along the hallway with her foot. “Come in.”

  Prosper followed the woman through the hallway, into the lounge.

  “Sit.”

  Prosper didn’t know whether she was talking to him or the dog and he fidgeted from one foot to the other.

  “Please.” Veronica pointed at a chair. Prosper sat, and the poodle ran across and sniffed his leg, its short tail wagging excitedly.

  The room was uncluttered, with few ornaments. There was a blue fabric settee that Veronica sat on and the chair. A log effect gas fire provided a focal point; pictures of the dog adorned the surrounding mantelpiece.

  “Now, how can I help?”

  “I know how distressing it is, but I just need you to go over everything from that day.”

  Veronica tapped her red painted nails on the arm of the settee. “It was awful. I was walking Sukie. I’d just let her off the lead to have a little run around on the grass and when she came back, the little darling had blood on her paws. Of course, at first I thought she’d cut herself. But then I saw the body.” She shivered.

  Prosper held his pen and notepad, ready to take pertinent notes as she spoke.

  “At first I didn’t realise what it was. I actually thought someone had discarded some rubbish. They do that you know.”

  Prosper nodded.

  “Anyway, when I realised what it was …” She put her hand to her mouth and swallowed loudly.

  “Yes, I’m sure it was terrible—”

  “It was grotesque. How could anyone do something like that?”

  Prosper nodded. “There are some wicked people in this world.” He tapped the pen against the pad. “So is there anything else you can tell me?”

  “Like what?”

  “Did you see a
nyone else around?”

  Veronica visibly bristled as though irked at answering the same questions. “I’ve already told all of this to those other people who interviewed me.”

  “I know. I’m really sorry, but you must realise how important this is.”

  Veronica exhaled; nodded. “I’m sorry. Of course I want to help.” She patted her knees and the dog ran across and leapt onto her lap. She stroked its back, sucked her top lip in and stared past Prosper, lost in thought. After a moment, she shivered. “There was no one. We were all alone. Sukie and me … until the guard came across.”

  Prosper leaned forwards. “The guard?”

  “Yes, he said he hadn’t seen anything though. He came across from one of the industrial units after I started screaming.”

  “Do you recall which unit he came from?”

  “No, I’m sorry, but I don’t think many of them have security so he won’t be hard to find.”

  Prosper nodded. “Well thank you for your time.” He stood. “Please, don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.” He turned and walked out of the house. Although she hadn’t told him much, Veronica had given him another avenue to investigate.

  CHAPTER 7

  The man peered over the top of his newspaper, the pages of which rustled in the slight breeze. He rocked his buttocks from side to side to alleviate the pain of sitting on the wooden bench, then continued surreptitiously watching a group of teenagers playing football on the field opposite. To his left, young children played on the swings and roundabouts, their screams and shouts filling the air.

  Park life.

  Life

  Death

  Decay

  Putrescent

  Rot

  Filth

  Humans were the ultimate prey. That’s what made hunting them so difficult. But it was also what added that extra thrill. Shooting deer, rabbits or pigeons didn’t compare. Even big game hunting wouldn’t match it for adrenaline pumping excitement. No, humans could think, could react, could be unpredictable, which is what made hunting them so dangerous.