Mystery: Quest for Justice: (Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Suspense Thriller Mystery)

by James Kipling

  "Who are you?" I asked, curious about what this woman had to say.

  "My name is Helen Potters, and I live right across the street from John Doe."

  "Okay," I said. "And why have you come here?" I asked, getting right into it.

  "I know that you're investigating John Doe for some reason."

  "I am," I replied. "But for now, I can't tell you why."

  "I understand that. I don't care about that", she said, in a rather pushy manner.

  "What do you want to say, then? Do you have some information on John Doe that we might not have?" I asked, becoming very impatient with her.

  "Yes, I do!" she cried. "And it might help to solve your case!"

  "Why don't you sit down and tell me the story, then?" I asked her, not knowing if I’d heard before what she was about to say, or whether it was something completely new that would make a great deal of difference in the case.

  "Well, I was out in the front garden, planting some flowers I bought, and I was talking to Laura. I know that John always goes on and on about his dead mother. Well, I know she's dead! I seen her dead myself! Anyway, when Laura left, I was the only one on the street, so nobody else saw this. After a minute or two, this car pulled around the corner. I didn't see who was driving it at first. I looked again, and I saw John get out of the passenger seat. I thought nothing of it because someone could have been giving him a lift. Suddenly, though, this old woman just got out of the car! John then linked arms with her and helped her inside! He then shut the door!"

  "Right," I said. "That's very interesting."

  "Well, does that help?" the woman said, quite proud of herself.

  "It helps a great deal," I said, "but I need to ask you a few more questions about this."

  "Go on, then."

  "When did this happen?"

  "Oh, it was about two weeks ago, now."

  "Right," I said, fascinated by what she had just said. "And can you describe this woman to me?"

  "Well, I only saw the back of her, but she had grey hair, and a yellow cardigan."

  "A yellow cardigan?" I said, feeling as though it were a eureka moment.

  "Yes," Helen simply replied.

  "Last question," I said. "Can you describe the car for me?"

  "Well, I didn't get the license plate, or even the make of the car! I know it was dark red, and that's pretty much all."

  "Thank you for your time," I said, letting her out.

  I now had more notes to go over, as usual. I then thought to myself, do I trust this woman? I knew she could not be making the whole thing up because two people now have said that there was an old woman with a yellow cardigan around with John. This was amazing. I now knew that someone had been dressing up as an old woman, and it wasn't John! But the question was, why? Why would someone want to do this? I knew this person was likely to be the murderer, or had had a strong role in the killings.

  However, my trail of thought was disrupted, as D.I. Mitchell told me I was needed for another case, because the gang situation in the city was getting out of control. I just wanted this gang thing wrapped up forever, but it seemed to continue nonstop. I also wanted to get on with the case. I knew it was only going to be for a day. It was a shame, because I now had to focus my thoughts on the gang killings, and not on the Minot Hacker case.

  When the day ended, I received a phone call from someone who I never wanted to see or speak to again: my ex-fiancée, Danny. I had not spoken to him for three months, and I was glad he was out of my life. I genuinely thought I was going to have a wonderful life with him. I genuinely thought he was the one. He betrayed me. I don't know why, but I picked up the phone.

  "What is it?" I asked him, eagerly waiting for a reply down the other end of the line.

  "It's Danny," he said.

  "I know it's you," I said, with a rather threatening voice.

  "I just called to see how you are doing," he said, for whatever reason.

  "I thought I was behind you forever!"

  "Tammy, the last time I saw you was when you solved the Alexandra Cross case, and I told you there and then. You just left, without really discussing it."

  "What is there to discuss?" I asked, convinced I was never going to get back with him. "You were hiding the fact that I was not the one!"

  "Well, you are!"

  "Well, why wait for three months and then call out of the blue, eh?"

  "I couldn't find the courage to talk to you," he said, his tone of voice changing to be more sad and persuasive. I imagined the puppy dog look he would pull if we were talking face to face.

  "And why do you think that is?" I said sarcastically, before almost putting the phone down.

  "Wait!" he cried.

  "What?" I said, growing frustrated with him.

  "The reason I broke up with you is because we were spending too much time apart. Why don't we give it one last shot?"

  "Even if we did, I would consider my work a top priority in my life. I don't know why, but my work is very important to me."

  Danny did not reply, even though I could still hear him there breathing down the phone.

  "Goodbye, Danny," I said, stopping the phone call and switching the phone off.

  I came out of the toilets and saw that I was not allowed to leave work for another five minutes, so I decided to just forget that phone call and talk to my colleagues about things.

  "So, how are you getting on with the Minot Hacker case, then?" asked Patricia.

  "Well, it's very confusing," I said.

  "Do you think it was this mysterious man?" asked Graham.

  "I'm not entirely sure yet," I replied. "I have reason to believe there was someone else involved."

  "Why do you think that?" said Miranda, trying not to show that she was jealous of me because I was involved in the case and she was not.

  "Well, John's mother is dead, but I have witnesses who claim that they saw an old woman with John on several occasions. I think there is somebody dressing up as John's mother for whatever reason."

  "Why would someone want to do that?" asked Patricia.

  "It sounds a little fishy to me," said Graham.

  Perhaps I was taking my eye off the ball a little, or perhaps not. I went to bed that evening unable to sleep because of my train of thought. I thought about what I was going to do the next day to progress even further in the case.

  Chapter 10

  The only thing I could do at this point was research the great-aunt and great-uncle of John Doe. Nothing more could be done, because every other lead I investigated came to a dead end. I just hoped that everything would soon come together and explain all of this madness. One thing was certain: I was much closer to solving the murders than anyone was a week before. That was what motivated me to work – the fact that I was getting closer and closer to solving the case. I had to admit to myself that this was the most challenging case I had ever come across, because it was just so confusing and there were so many questions that I could not yet answer.

  I did not know why, but something just came over me. I began to think that Joseph and Maria Doe had some sort of criminal history, so I decided to check them for any criminal records. Astonishingly, I was right, and I found out they were both convicted of attempting to kidnap a six-year old child! I was not prepared for that. I was not prepared for anything, really. I just did not know what to expect with these people. I just sensed that there was something wrong there, and I was actually right. I read the case file further and they both served four years in prison for it, between the years of 1979 and 1983, so John was actually a child himself. I read even further, and I read one of the statements from Joseph Doe.

  "We only wanted to kidnap the child because we were desperate for money. We are not paedophiles, and we should only be lightly punished for this. We were in a desperate situation, and we were not going to cause any harm to the girl. We were actually going to make her stay with us very comforting."

  There was something extremely fishy about all that. I
f they were desperate for money, how could they afford to pay for that big house? Of course, I knew in my mind what they were planning to do to that girl, and it was fortunate that she was found just in time. Then I thought, was John subject to this abuse as a child? If so, where was his mother? Throughout my thoughts, the same thing was running through my mind: what was the bad thing that John did in that house? Who did he do it with? I was certain that it had something to do with the murder. However, I only had Monica's word on that, so if she turned out to be the killer, that would have probably been made up to mislead me. I then thought about John again. If he was subject to any kind of abuse as a young child, it could have disturbed him for the rest of his life. I then thought to myself, what if he is actually the murderer, and nobody else is involved, and all this investigating has been a waste of time? Then, I thought to myself, no, this is not a waste of time. I had some faith in Monica and John and I will do whatever it takes to prove their innocence and get justice for the families of the victims once and for all!

  My next step was to interview John, yet again. This time he was sitting in the room, in the chair, with a cup of coffee in his hands.

  "Hello, again," he said to me, sighing. His tone of voice was still friendly, but I could tell that he was depressed.

  "Are you okay today, John?" I asked him, taking a soft approach to this.

  "I'm fine. I just want to know, why do you keep wanting to talk to me? I've confessed to the murders!"

  "There are still things that need wrapping up," I replied in a soft tone of voice.

  "But I am the Minot Hacker! There is nobody else involved! Why don't you just leave it like that?" John said in an argumentative manner.

  "I don't believe you," I told him, "and I think there is someone else involved. I don't know who yet, but I will definitely find out, no matter what!"

  "What do you want to ask me today, then?" said John, sighing again.

  "Do you remember your aunt and uncle, Joseph and Monica?" I asked him

  John shook his head.

  "Perhaps you know them as Uncle and Aunt Doe, or something like that?"

  "Well, there was an auntie and uncle I used to visit, in that farm house, but that was years ago," he replied.

  "O.k., and who did you go with?" I said, with my notebook and pen ready.

  "My mother used to take me. My father was rarely there. He used to work in distribution."

  "Right, and what were these people like?" I asked him.

  "I only went every so often, so I didn't really know them," he replied. John looked very uncomfortable when he said that.

  "John, is there something you're not telling me?" I said, detecting his lie.

  "No," said a very defensive John.

  "There is. I know there is," I said. "Come on, John. You can talk to me."

  "Well, there was this one time..."

  "Go on," I said, eager for some sort of response.

  "It doesn't matter. It has nothing to do with the murders," he said.

  "I think it does," I said, getting more and more desperate for him to say something useful.

  "Well, one time, my auntie took my mother in the garden for a drink and a chat. I asked my uncle if I could have a drink, and because I didn't say please, he grabbed hold of my neck and forced me into the cupboard."

  "That's horrible!" I cried, determined not to let my emotions get the better of me.

  "I know. That went on for a few minutes. There were other times when the pair of them hit me."

  "Did your mother find out about this?"

  "I think she did, because after that, I stopped seeing them."

  "Right, and how old were you when they used to abuse you?" I asked him.

  "I was only around five or six."

  I paused for a moment and thought of how evil and horrible these people must have been. I knew they were now dead, but they had not really had justice brought to them. Although they spent four long years in prison, they deserved more than that.

  "There is one more thing I need to go over with you, John," I said.

  "I think I know what's coming," John said, almost laughing.

  "Well, what was that bad thing you did in that house?"

  "I'm telling you, I don't remember!"

  I decided to leave it at that. Then John spoke again, which surprised me, because he did not usually speak until he was spoken to.

  "Can I tell you something?" he said.

  "What is it?" I asked, hoping and praying that this had something to do with the case.

  "Every time I killed one of those boys, I thought of them. I imagined I was killing them."

  "What makes you say that to me?" I asked him.

  "I don't know. I just wanted to get it off my chest," he replied.

  I did not reply to that. I left the interview room. I sat down. No-one else was around at the time, because they were off investigating more gang shootings. Suddenly, I started to cry. It was just a little whimper. It was probably because of the stress and the emotions associated with the case. The whole thing was so sad. After five minutes, I gathered my head together and carried on with my work.

  Chapter 11

  The next day, I went through each of the four case files once more, as I felt I had missed or completely overlooked something important. I looked at the case files as if I were restarting the investigation and none of this had happened. Therefore, I was able to look at all the facts separately. I picked out the main points from each file and read them aloud in my head:

  "Josh Davis was seen at a friend's birthday party. After dancing, he apparently went outside for a cigarette, and no-one ever saw him again. There were thirty witnesses who say they have little memory of the night before. His body had been found in the middle of Minot forest, and he had been stabbed seven times. There were no witnesses, and no DNA evidence was collected."

  I thought to myself, it's typical that nobody could hardly remember anything, because they were probably all drunk!

  I then read the next case file in my head:

  Steven Burck went out for a walk in Minot forest with his dog. His mother said that he always loved going on walks, so it was not unusual for him to go into the forest. His mother was alerted by Steven's disappearance when the dog arrived home. After telephoning the police, Steven's body was soon discovered in the woods. He had been stabbed six times. Again, there were no witnesses and no DNA evidence.

  I then went on to the third one:

  Daniel Gibson was seen leaving school at 4:00 pm. His body, along with his school bag and PE kit, was found on Jackson Street in Minot. However, it was not until around 6:00 pm that his body was discovered by a resident of the street. No witnesses came forward, and no DNA evidence was found. He had been stabbed four times.

  And finally, I went on to the fourth one:

  Richard Cold was seen leaving school at 4:00 pm. His body, along with his school bag, was found in Minot forest. He had been stabbed seven times. There were no witnesses and no DNA evidence was found.

  The fourth one was very empty. No more information was given to the parents. That was very sad, I thought.

  While I was thinking away, my brain locked in detective mode; something suddenly came over me and I realized something that somebody had said earlier. Then, everything began coming to me. I looked at one of the case files again and realized something. Everything now fit, or almost everything. I had to make one more visit to another person's house to make sure I was right, but I thought I was very close to solving the murder!

  "Have you got a spare ten minutes?" I asked Graham.

  "Well, yeah. Why?" he asked me.

  "Because I've had a eureka moment," I told him. He did not reply. Instead, he looked at me, very confused.

  "I'll come with you, if that's what you're asking."

  "Yes. I want you to come."

  "Alright," he agreed.

  I was getting very excited now, and I knew that something good was coming. The person's house I was going to vi
sit belonged to the mother and father of Steven Burck, the second victim who went for a walk with his dog and never came back. Pretty much everything was riding on the answer that this woman gave me, because it was the final piece of the puzzle. Everything else fit perfectly. I just needed some more facts to back up my explanation for all this.

  We arrived at the house, and a woman in her sixties answered.

  "Are you the police?" she asked immediately.

  "Hello, and yes, we are," I said. "Are you Mrs. Burck?"

  "Yes, I am," she replied, allowing us inside.

  "What's it about this time?" she asked, in a kind manner.

  I did not know how to break it to her, so I just said things spontaneously.

  "I have one question about your son's death," I said. "And your answer is the most crucial thing in this case!"

  "Is it really that serious?" Mrs. Burck asked.

  "I'm afraid it is," I replied.

  "What's the question, then?" the old woman asked, clearly trying not to let herself get too excited.

  "I want to know, do you remember if your son was a keen dog walker?"

  "Oh, yes," she replied. "He loved that dog. He went out with her every day."

  "Where did he go?"

  "He went to a variety of places. Everywhere he went in Minot, it was a new route, because he used to tell me himself that he loved to explore."

  That was the answer I was looking for.

  "Mrs. Burck," I said, getting very excited, "I would like you to come with us to the police station."

  "Why?" she asked, very puzzled by now.

  "I will explain everything when I get there, but I can tell you that I have solved your son's murder!"

  "What?!" she cried. She then called her husband in from the garden. This woman was ecstatic. I would be, too, because she had been waiting for this day for over twenty years.

  "Graham," I said, "I need you to get both Monica and Laura over here. Tell them I need them to verify a few things," I said.

  "Monica and Laura who?" he asked me.

  "Here's my phone," I said, escorting the woman to the car.

  This was it now. I now knew without a doubt who the murderer was, and I was ready to denounce them in front of the parents of the victims and a group of other people.