Mason Black (The Complete Collection): 6 Gripping Crime Stories: The Complete Collection + BONUS Story

by Adam Nicholls

  ‘Where were you this morning?’ Bill asked, looking sceptical.

  ‘Cleaning up after you. The cameras needed wiping, you know.’ Mason just wished the man would be more careful. If they were going to pull this off, they would need to work as a team. Any half-efforts could end them.

  ‘Right…’ Bill looked around him, dug into his pocket and slid the key into Mason’s hand. ‘Make sure nobody sees you. I’ll have to catch up later.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘I’m off duty at five, so hang in there.’

  Mason stuffed the key into his pocket and walked towards the side exit. The front of the police station was swarming with press, who had somehow gotten wind of the situation and made it public. That was bad for everybody.

  In the alleyway beside the building, Evie stood watching the beautiful morning sky. Although she had begged an explanation of Mason, he’d had nothing more to offer her. The best he could do was assure her that the killer would move on from San Francisco.

  ‘Get in,’ he said, opening the car door.

  He drove her back to her apartment and stopped outside in peaceful silence.

  ‘Will you be all right?’ she asked with the door half-open.

  ‘I’ll live.’ Mason wondered how he was going to convince her that he had simply shied away from searching for Wendell. After all the judgement he had received from Captain Cox, the last thing he wanted was for Evie to frown at him. ‘I’m looking at apartments tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh? Not getting back with Sandra then?’ There was a tone of sadness in her voice.

  ‘I doubt it. There are other things for me out there, you know?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Evie sat back in the chair, keeping the door open and letting the cool wintery air in. ‘That’s great about the apartment, though. But how will you pay for it?’

  Mason had asked himself the same thing, and the answer seemed clearer than ever. ‘I think it’s time for me to reopen the office. I can take on other cases, ones I don’t associate with my time on the police force.’

  Evie smiled and kissed him on the cheek. ‘It’s what you’re good at.’ She climbed out of the car, closed the door and headed into her apartment building, looking over her shoulder and giving a little wave.

  Mason was looking forward to the life he had just described. It would be dangerous, sure, but he would miss it if it weren’t there. But there was still one thing to finish before he could move on. It was something he couldn’t possibly have told Evie or the captain.

  Checking that the key was still tucked safely in his pocket, he looked around to make sure he wasn’t followed, then drove to where he needed to be.

  90

  Mason asked the yard worker where the shipping container was, and was shown to the one at the back of the lot. It was quiet and out of the way–no wonder Bill had chosen it.

  When he was all alone, he looked around before sliding the key into the heavy-duty padlock and opening it up. It was dark inside, but Mason had to lock the door from the inside before he could use the internal lamp.

  Clunk.

  The room lit up and Mason turned to face the back, where the orangey glow illuminated Marvin Wendell. He was a mess; totally naked and chained up tight. A ball gag had been homemade by Bill, using a snooker ball and a belt. It looked painful as hell, but it was no less than what he deserved.

  ‘Morning, asshole.’ Mason stepped forward and removed his jacket, placing it on the upturned crates. ‘Bill wanted me to wait until he got here, but I don’t see why we can’t get started already.’

  Wendell tried to break free of his chains, but nothing happened.

  Mason went to the trolley, admiring the detail that Bill had gone to. It made sense to him, though–Wendell had killed Bill and Christine’s son. It was enough to rile anybody up.

  ‘You know, you made a big mistake by hurting my daughter.’ Mason pulled the dustsheet off the tray, revealing a pile of rusted surgical tools.

  Crying and trying to scream, Wendell’s chains rattled as he squirmed.

  Mason picked up the first tool and held it up to the light. It looked like a bottle opener, a blade with clamps. We’ll start with this. ‘Now hold still. You wouldn’t want me to miss.’

  When Mason was done, he and Bill would burn the body and try to pass it off as an unsolved murder. It may not be official closure of the case – they may not even get away with it – but it would bring the Lullaby Killer to a stop, while delivering justice to all the families he had destroyed.

  Grinding his teeth, Mason got to work on punishing Wendell.

  He was completely unaware that he had been followed.

  LADY LUCK

  MASON BLACK (BOOK 2)

  Adam Nicholls

  1

  Johnny Walker was driving towards his death. Only, he didn’t know it yet.

  Somewhere between Haynes Avenue and Briar’s, on the fifth or sixth drive of his first car, he’d finally decided that tonight would be the night to get what he wanted. For months, he’d been thinking about it – how easy it would be. How anonymously sexy.

  As he slowly rounded the corner, he saw the streetlamps and eccentric neon signs lighting up the row of buildings. It was full of life, much more than he had expected. This is good, he thought. I’m just one of many.

  His hands were shaking as he turned the wheel, swinging the car onto the side of the street. How would he do this? Johnny had figured it would be like the movies – pull over, lean on your horn and wait for them to come running.

  They all look so… so dirty.

  Another one walked past, and he eyed her up and down. This one had a shake to her ass, something teasing in that little wiggle. But on the other hand, her hair was greasy and her stockings were torn (deliberately or not). Johnny had the impression he wouldn’t be the woman’s first customer of the night and passed on the idea entirely.

  Until he saw her.

  What a remarkable sight she was. Long, wavy red hair with a strawberry complexion. Her legs were long and smooth, her lips red and full. She didn’t look like one of them, so much so that he wondered if she even was one of them. After all, he was only twenty-one and had never been in this situation before. Heck, he had never even been kissed.

  After taking a moment to inspire his confidence, he climbed out of the car and walked past the group of black men. All eyes were on him – he could feel it. Or was he being paranoid? Either way, he had to keep walking.

  The woman was smoking now, pulling long drags off the cigarette and blowing it out in an almost purple mist of erotic magic. For a moment, she glanced at him, before looking away while giving her hair a little flick.

  Johnny was increasingly nervous. The busy street, loud gossip, and rap music blaring from a nearby car was wreaking havoc on his anxiety. This is a bad idea, he told himself, and began to walk away.

  But then.

  ‘Where are you going, sweetie?’

  Johnny stopped in his tracks, took a deep breath and turned. The woman was looking at him, her piercing green eyes visible even at night. ‘Are you…’ He almost dared to ask, but would feel ridiculous if he was wrong.

  The woman giggled like a playful teen. ‘Yes, sugar. Are you looking for a gig?’

  What a strange way of putting it. ‘S-Sure.’

  With the theatrical sexiness of Marilyn Monroe, she flicked her cigarette into the road and strutted towards him. Her cleavage was on show, perky and encouraging. ‘Then let’s go.’

  Following a moment of nervous hesitation, Johnny pushed the button on his key and unlocked the car. Ever the gentleman, he held the door and let her ease her perfect figure into the seat. She was smiling lustily at him as she did so.

  Johnny shut the door and walked around the car. ‘Wow,’ he mumbled under his breath, trying not to laugh at the luck he had stumbled into.

  If only he’d known that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

  2

  San Francisco looked beautiful at night, but
it was also very scary. Especially for Johnny, who so aggressively avoided having to drive near the trams. He hated how those things made him rattle, and he was already shaking enough.

  ‘First time, sweetie?’ The woman pulled down the vanity mirror and applied some fresh lipstick. It smelled delicious, like cherries.

  ‘No,’ he lied.

  She flicked up the mirror and sat back, assessing him. ‘So then, where are we going? To your house, or would you like to do this somewhere more exciting?’

  Johnny hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. They sure as hell couldn’t go to his parents’ house – they wouldn’t be thrilled at the idea of their only son using a prostitute in their own home. ‘Somewhere quiet. Any ideas?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Johnny drove carefully as the woman – who was still as mysterious as ever – gave him directions to a place that she would only describe as “a good spot”. This, of course, was suggestive of many different kinds of places, which made him all the more curious.

  ‘Pull up here,’ she said, shuffling in her seat.

  He stopped the car under a large tree at the back of a desolate parking lot, which overlooked some kind of park. It was an eerie place, with only a little light in the entire area, and even that was far behind them.

  Johnny shut off the engine, inviting total silence. Looking around, he discovered that he knew of this place. It was a popular spot for most people who wanted to get up to anything naughty – sex, drugs, and whatever else might go down. He had even thought about coming here before, once or twice.

  ‘So, what will it be?’ the woman asked, curving her tongue teasingly onto her upper lip. ‘My hand? My mouth? All of me?’

  Johnny’s chest felt tight, restricted. ‘I don’t know.’ He anxiously laughed. The truth was, he was already aroused and he knew what he wanted, but he was too shy to say it. Not only that, but he couldn’t seem to keep his hands still. ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘That’s cute.’ The woman giggled behind her palm and looked over her shoulder. ‘It’s pretty quiet up here. Does anybody know what you’re doing tonight?’

  Is she trying to make me more comfortable with conversation? ‘No. Well, my friend Callum, he knows I was thinking about doing this. I guess I just never thought I would actually go through with it.’

  Her hand drifted over and rested on his leg. She curved her fingers and rubbed ever so gently with her fingertips. ‘Get out of the car. Let’s make this fun.’

  Before he could show any hesitation, she was already out of the car and walking around to sit on the hood. Johnny clumsily unclipped his seatbelt and went to join her, one hand rummaging through his pocket in frantic search of the condom he’d put there earlier. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Come here.’ The woman crooked her finger, beckoning him.

  Hesitant, scared, and stiffening in his pants, Johnny approached her, blocking out the beams of light shooting from the headlights. He moved to take her in his arms, but was stopped by her hand pushing firmly on his chest.

  ‘What are you–’

  ‘Ssh,’ she said, pinning him gently against the hood. Slowly, she got on her knees, still staring up at him with seductive eyes.

  One hand was hooked onto his belt. It was as if she was trying to make him wait, make him harder. Johnny closed his eyes and tried to relax, feeling a hand on his stomach, another slowly unzipping his fly.

  And then he felt nothing.

  ‘Do me a favour,’ she said, as if she had a sudden change of heart.

  Johnny shot open his eyes and, tensing up, saw the knife in her hand. His pulse quickened as a flurry of questions hailed through his mind. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’ He looked around him, wondering if one of the boys from his hockey club would leap out of the trees and yell Gotcha!

  ‘Just shut up,’ she said, firmly now. It was a different personality from the one that had aroused him so. ‘You’re going to keep quiet, hold still, and help me send a message.’

  Halfway through wondering exactly what kind of a message, the knife jutted forward and pierced his jugular. He could feel his jaw drop in surprise. Johnny had always thought about death, but had never suspected it would happen to him.

  ‘Quiet now,’ she said softly.

  That was the last thing he heard before he hit the ground.

  3

  Mason Black – Frisco’s most notable detective-turned-private investigator – lay with his feet on the coffee table and his teenage daughter lying in his arms. They were watching some movie about Acapella singers. Amy’s favourite, not his.

  ‘How much longer is this?’ he asked, glancing at the wall clock.

  Amy leaned back to look up at him. ‘Don’t you like it?’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ he said. It was mostly true. The movie sucked, but any time he could spend with his daughter was special. He got to see her so rarely now since her mother had won custody over her. Most people would have turned bitter over this, but Mason was making a point of learning to be more optimistic. Anyway, Amy seemed happy, and that was all that really mattered.

  ‘You don’t like it,’ she said matter-of-factly, and got up to remove the DVD.

  The patch where she had been lying turned cold almost instantly. Mason sat up, adjusting his shirt. ‘It’s fine, honey. I swear.’

  ‘Dad, it’s no big deal. We’ll just find another movie.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Mason watched her clumsily remove the DVD from the tray, using the hand with only three fingers and a thumb. Immediately, he felt his stomach turn with guilt. It was the Lullaby Killer who had done that to her, almost a year ago now. He had paid – severely, in fact – but that didn’t make it any better for poor Amy. She had never whined about it, however – she was even tougher than her dad.

  ‘Die Hard, or James Bond?’ she asked, holding up the DVD cases with a smile.

  Mason smirked, was about to answer, but got interrupted by a pounding on the door.

  He looked at his wristwatch; just past ten. Who would be calling at this time of night? Groaning as he stood, Mason went to the door and pulled it open to a familiar face. ‘Bill?’

  Detective Bill Harvey was a friend – a good one, who had aided in tracking down Marvin Wendell, the Lullaby Killer. What they did with the body when they found him was still a secret that only they shared.

  ‘Sorry, Mason. Can I come in?’

  ‘Of course.’ He held the door and took a step back.

  ‘Hi, Amy.’

  ‘Bill!’ Amy clambered to her feet and ran towards him, enveloping him in a tight hug.

  ‘Mind if I borrow your father for a minute?’ Bill asked, pulling away gently.

  ‘Sure.’

  Amy dragged her feet to the spare bedroom, and they moved through to the kitchen. ‘So,’ Mason said, putting on the kettle, ‘it’s good to see you, but what brings you?’

  ‘Work.’

  Mason nodded, unscrewed the coffee jar, and spooned the granules into a mug. ‘And I’m guessing you need help with an investigation?’

  ‘Actually,’ Bill said, moving into the doorway. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. ‘I’ve been assigned to investigate you.’

  4

  Mason studied the mass of photos before him. His coffee had gone cold and he’d barely noticed – he was far more interested in the murder scene he was looking at.

  ‘These were taken a couple of hours ago,’ said Bill, handing over the photographs one at a time. ‘As you can see, the neck was sliced from ear to ear.’

  ‘Grisly.’ Mason studied the scene behind the body. ‘Why does it seem familiar?’

  ‘The steps?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Because you worked there for a long, long time, Mason.’ Bill slid over another picture, this one taken from a distance. It showed the police station, a line of patrol cars parked perfectly along the left wall, and a crowd gathering by the entrance. That was where the body had been dumped and, understandably, where the crowd was.


  ‘Has the body been identified?’ Mason felt himself going for his cigarettes, which weren’t there. It was a force of habit – he had given up years ago and forgotten about them entirely… until now.

  ‘Johnny Walker, twenty-one, rich parents.’

  ‘You think somebody had beef with the folks? Took out a little revenge by hitting where it hurts the most?’

  ‘That was my first guess, until I saw this.’

  One last photo came sliding across the dining table, landing right in front of Mason. He took it, lifted it up to the light, and felt his body go weak at the sight. ‘What the hell is this?’

  ‘That,’ Bill stood and began to pace, ‘is the message that was cut into the body. You can see why I contacted you. Now, what do you make of it?’

  ‘I’d say it’s some sick joke.’ Mason was just about ready to look at it again. He let his eyes slowly crawl over it – the pool of blood, the sliced flesh, and the message scribed into the corpse’s torso: MASON BLACK IS A MURDERER. Underneath, a smaller message: FROM LADY LUCK.

  Mason’s mouth went dry. ‘Lady Luck?’

  ‘An alias, probably. But it gets worse. There was another photo.’

  ‘… And where is it?’ Mason looked up, impatient.

  ‘You misunderstood. I said there was another photo. As in, I had to destroy it.’

  ‘Hey, that’s police evidence. Why would you–’

  ‘Because it was a picture of you.’ Bill folded his arms and let out a long breath. ‘You were going into the container at the shipping yard, where we killed–’

  Mason shot to his feet, cutting him off. He marched across the room and grabbed Bill’s arm in an attempt to quiet him. When they were out of the apartment, he pulled the door closed. ‘We do not talk about that with my girl in the next room. Is that understood?’

  ‘Sorry, I… Look, it was lucky I was first on the scene. Whoever set this whole thing up is out to get you. They wanted the police to know what you did.’