The Last Resolution (Mike Wesley Series Book 2)

by John Stewart

  “D.S. Sloane, how can I help you?”

  Mike was surprised that someone with such a high rank had taken his call. “Hi Sergeant, I have some information regarding former Detective Simon Meadowcroft.”

  “What kind of information?” Sloane asked as he closed the blinds in the interview room.

  “I’ve been assisting Mr. Meadowcroft for the past number of weeks on a variety of unsolved cases he worked on during his time at your station and I have reason to suspect he may have some involvement in those same cases.”

  Sloane couldn’t believe his ears. He knew Simon was obsessing over the cases, but recruiting an outsider and sharing confidential information was extreme, even for him.

  “When you say involvement, what do you mean?” Sloane asked, masking his surprise as best he could.

  “First-degree involvement Sarge, I have some compelling photographic evidence.”

  Sloane could tell Mike was or at least had been on the force by the way he was speaking.

  “Are you on the job Mr. Wesley?”

  “Former Garda, I took a two-year sabbatical and moved here last year to work as an investigative journalist. Can’t imagine I’ll be going back.”

  “Ah, I thought I recognised the name. You’re the cop from the big case across the pond last year.”

  “Yeah, the same. Listen, I’m sitting outside a house and I’ve just seen Simon walk in with a woman. I think he might have picked her up from the Chelsea Physic Garden, I don’t have time to go into why that’s important, but he was acting very suspicious. I think you should send some people down.”

  Sloane held his head, fearing he was at the Ralstone Street safe house.

  “Okay, Mr. Wesley, before we go any further, I need you to guarantee me your discretion on this, one cop to another, off the record. Can you do that?”

  “Of course, I’m not here for a story,” Mike said as he clenched his jaw, thinking of how Rebecca would take the statement.

  “What’s the address?” Sloane asked with a wince.

  “Eh, the house number is 37 Ralstone Street, it’s a big red brick…”

  Before Mike could finish confirming Sloane’s fears, the detective sergeant closed his eyes and exhaled heavily.

  “Yeah! I know what it looks like.”

  Chapter 31

  Sloane was silent for a few moments after abruptly speaking over Mike. With the knowledge that he had just sent two officers to the house that Simon Meadowcroft was likely using as his own personal sex den, he had to carefully consider how he should proceed.

  Ethan Sloane and Simon Meadowcroft joined the force at the same time back in 1994 although Simon progressed at faster rate and upon rising to the rank of Detective, he pushed hard for Ethan to get the same promotion. It took another year, but Simon’s persistence paid off and Ethan was promoted out of uniform to join the ranks of CID alongside him.

  After a while, the pair became somewhat of a partnership and worked on several cases together. During an investigation in 2003, both men were searching the home of wealthy businessman, Oliver Dean. Mr. Dean was a shameless womaniser who had been murdered by his long-suffering wife, Margaery. The case was open and shut; a crime of passion rather than planning. She had found out about yet another one of her husband’s indiscretions and decided she could take no more. While Mr. Dean was sleeping in bed, she removed her clothes and lay naked beside him, caressing his chest and neck with one hand while holding a kitchen knife in the other. As he awoke to the pleasant gesture, she smiled and thrust the blade into his groin. The injury was severe and he bled out in just a few agonising minutes. While being interviewed by Simon Meadowcroft, Mrs. Dean informed him about a large amount of cash that she had hidden in the house. She had siphoned the money from her husband’s accounts over a period of ten years and in exchange for some assistance with her defense case, was willing to share it with him. Simon told Ethan about the offer and suggested they access the evidence lock-up in order to mislay some of the physical evidence relating to Mrs. Dean’s case. Ethan was apprehensive about the plan, but he had run into some financial difficulties and had a baby on the way. The financial benefits coupled with his misguided sense of loyalty to Simon made his decision for him.

  They found the money in a bag under the floorboards of the master bedroom’s walk-in wardrobe. There was over £50,000 in cash which they split fifty-fifty and made a vow to never speak of it again, a vow they had kept until recently. After Simon had brought it up over the phone while asking for more information on the Darren Taylor case, Ethan knew he would hold it over him should he be picked up for trespassing at the safe house. He could not let that happen and saw no option but to use Mike to get him out before officers Grant and Evans arrived at the apartment.

  “Listen to me very carefully Mr. Wesley. You have to get him out of there right now.”

  “How? I’ve tried calling him and I don’t have a key.”

  “Buzz apartment number 17B. A woman will answer. When she does, ask for Bobby. She’ll let you in and give you the key.” Mike anxiously rubbed his face and looked back at the house as Sloane continued. “There’s a keypad entry as well.”

  Mike sighed. “Can you not just come and get him yourself? God knows what he’s doing in there.”

  “He’s brought girls there before. I’m sure it’s just a fling,” he said attempting to trivialize the situation. “But he needs to get out now. I have officers heading over there now with a witness.”

  “Perfect! They can bring him in then.”

  “No! Listen to me,” Sloane said with an authoritative tone. “You need to get him out before they arrive.”

  “And what then? He skips off? You need to take him in for questioning.”

  “He’s not going anywhere, I’ll speak to him afterwards. Just get him out of there, I’m sure he can explain whatever it is you think you have.”

  Mike let out an resigned breath, wanting him to be right.

  “Alright, gimme the code, but I hope for that girl’s sake you’re right.”

  “Trust me, she might be walking funny, but she’ll be fine. The code is 523061. You got it?”

  Mike shook his head at the detective’s blasé attitude.

  “Yeah, 523061. I’ll call you back when we’re out,” Mike replied with a certainty in his voice.

  “I’ll be waiting.” Said Sloane.

  Mike ended the call, took a deep breath and got out of the car. As instructed, he then headed up the steps, pressed the buzzer for apartment 17B and asked for Bobby.

  The woman on the other end of the intercom buzzed him in without introducing herself. “Go straight ahead, pass the postboxes and take a right, you’ll see the door.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Mike replied into the speaker.

  He walked into the lobby and took note of the ornate décor.

  “Only the best for the Met,” he mumbled to himself as he walked to the door and began to knock.

  A well-dressed woman in her thirties answered the door holding a key in her hand. Her expression was less than friendly. “I take it you have the code?” she asked, making no attempt at pleasantries.

  “I do. Can you direct me to the room, please?”

  “Top floor apartment 16E you can’t miss it,” she said handing him the key. “Drop it in my mailbox when you’re finished. I have better things to do than sit around all day waiting for your lot to return it like the last time.” With that, the door closed.

  Mike ignored her abruptness, assuming she was likely helping the police in return for a pass on some previous misdemeanor. He checked for an elevator to lessen his footfall, but there was none in sight. With a disappointed sigh, he made his way up the three flights of steep stairs and reached the top with less air in his lungs than he would have hoped. His exercise routine of afternoon cycle sessions had been all but forgotten since Rebecca’s attack and a diet of hospital vending machine crisps and energy bars hadn’t done anything to assist his fitness levels. There was a small cor
ridor and four apartment doors visible from the upper landing, passing the first three, he arrived at number 16E. Unsure of how he would explain his presence at the police safe house, he decided to knock on the door and await a response. He waited a few moments for an answer and knocked again.

  “Simon! It’s Mike. Open the door.”

  Still there was no answer from inside, so he tried Simon’s phone once again. The phone went straight to voicemail, so he gave knocking another shot, but yet again, there was no sign of life from behind the door. He didn’t want to walk in on whatever Simon was getting up to with the brunette, but he had waited long enough and with a reluctant sigh, he inputted the key code and turned the key in the lock. The door beeped and clicked open. He slowly walked inside, seeing an empty chair with straps attached in the middle of the living room. Calling for Simon as he went, he glanced into the bedroom and saw it was empty. Assuming the pair had already left, he was about to leave, but just before he did, he looked down and saw a bloodstain on the floor.

  Chapter 32

  Simon stood and walked to the nearby table where he had earlier laid out an audio recorder. He picked it up, turned it on and returned to the chair facing the bound woman. “You say ‘Last Resolution.’ What exactly do you mean by that?”

  “What’s this? Your plan to take me to the real police with a full confession of all my crimes?”

  Simon pressed his lips. “Something like that, yeah. Let’s start with your name.”

  “You know my name,” she said with a look of hatred in her eyes.

  “No, all I know is that you’re some kind of cult loving crazy bitch who murdered five innocent people.”

  “You really don’t remember me?”

  “Why would I?” Simon replied, feeling increasingly apprehensive about what she was going to say next.

  She stared into Simon’s eyes and began.

  “My name is Lauren Gibson and we met the night my life changed forever.” Simon’s eyes narrowed as she spoke with an eerie articulation. “It was December 31st, 1999 at a party down near the docks in an abandoned building long since demolished. Me, along with a group of girls from nursing college heard there was some big name DJ playing at it, so we went down to check it out. Worst decision of my life.” She said looking at the ground.

  “And what has all this got to do with me? I wasn’t at any party that night,” Simon said nervously, knowing full well he had almost no recollection of how the year 2000 began.

  “Yes you were and my picture proves it. You see, I was there for a while. I was drinking too much and got separated from my friends. The place was huge and I found myself wandering around a bit worse for wear. That’s when I literally bumped into a guy I later discovered was named Pierce Renshaw.”

  Simon looked at the recorder in his hand to check it was still recording. “Your first victim!”

  She ignored his statement and continued.

  “He seemed nice and before I knew it we were kissing. He gave me a drink and I remember it tasted funny, but I was too drunk, too stupid to question it. We found a dark room with a big couch and sat down. There were plenty of people around, so I gave someone my camera and asked her to take a group photo. You were in that photo with us, along with Clarissa Briggs, Kimberly Barnes, William Coope and Darren Taylor.”

  Simon thought about the picture he had burned in his ashtray. Before that moment, he had no idea where the picture was taken or how he ended up in the same room as all the victims. “I was drinking a lot back then. I don’t remember it.”

  Lauren’s eyes reddened. “Well let me remind you what happened to me. That animal Renshaw spiked my drink and started groping me on the couch. I tried to pull away, but I was too out of it. Some people left the room looking embarrassed when they saw us. They thought it was consensual, but it was far from it, I just couldn’t show it. Just before he lifted my dress, he whispered the words ‘I’m gonna give you the experience of a lifetime,’ into my ear and then, he raped me.”

  Simon’s jaw clenched as she said the word he was dreading.

  “Oh, it gets better. While he did what he did, both Clarissa Briggs and Kimberly Barnes sat on the end of the couch, kissing each other while they rubbed my legs. They should have stopped him, but instead, they were getting off on it. I managed to raise my hand out to signal for help and when William Coope stumbled over, I thought the nightmare was about to end, but it only got worse. That bastard Renshaw told Coope I wanted him as well.” She paused for a minute to take a breath. “So when he was finished, William Coope climbed on top and continued my humiliation, all the while the two sluts at the end just watched and cheered. Darren Taylor was next, whispering ‘Happy New Year,’ as he finished. Tears were streaming down my face by that point and still the girls just laughed chanting ‘One more screw!’ That’s when you made your way over.”

  Simon felt physically sick at what she was saying.

  “I didn’t! I would never!”

  “You sat beside me and offered me a drink from the bottle of Tequila Rose you were swigging from before getting on top of me, unbuttoning your trousers and passing out on my chest.”

  Simon closed his eyes, feeling a mixture of self-disgust and relief that he hadn’t repeated the horrific assault.

  “I don’t remember, but I would never have done it.”

  “What do you mean you would never have done it?” she snapped. “You were half way until you passed out and puked all over me. You could have stopped it, but you chose to join in instead. You were just as bad as the rest of them and when I finally got the use of my legs back, I ran home and made my own new year’s resolution, to make each and every one of you pay for what you did to me.”

  Simon’s tone stiffened. “Look whatever you say, it doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t rape you. You burned Pierce Renshaw alive for fuck sake, cut Kimberly Barnes eyelids off, mutilated William Coope, not to mention overdosing Clarissa Briggs and suffocating Darren Taylor. How can you justify that?”

  She spat on the floor in disgust at hearing her attackers spoken about as victims. “You say their names like they were people to be mourned. The people in that room that night ruined my life and that includes you, you piece of shit!”

  Simon looked at the gun in his right hand and with a sigh, he pushed the safety switch on and put it in his pocket. “I get it, I do, but why did you position the bodies in locations matching up with the Thelema symbol?”

  “You spotted that did you? My grandfather was a member of the Order of Thelema and he gave me a necklace of the Hexagram for my thirteenth birthday. He said it was a symbol of strength and balance. I adopted it as my symbol for vengeance so I can balance the wrongs that were done to me.”

  Simon shook his head, looking at her with dismay.

  “You really are nuts!” he said shaking his head.

  “It took you long enough to put it all together even with your two little helpers,” she said with a flippant tone.

  Simon paused at the mention of Mike and Rebecca.

  “I take it your last note was a warning then?”

  “No, the timing of that was happenstance. I just wanted to stir the pot, wake you up a bit. If anything, I was glad you had some help. See, I’ve been visiting that garden every Thursday since I left you that note on Darren Taylor’s body. Frankly, I expected you to show up at the gardens sooner. I hear the Hollister woman got attacked. What happened? Did she figure out your little secret too soon?”

  Simon frowned and turned off the recorder.

  “How did you know about that?”

  “I’ve been watching your comings and goings for a while Simon. So, what was it? She must have done something bad, I hear you nearly killed her.”

  “She found the picture and note you sent. I panicked, thought she would use them to link me to the murders.”

  “So you put her in a coma instead of killing her, nice job genius.”

  Simon felt the guilt swell in his stomach.

  “It was
an accident. I never meant to…”

  “To what? Hurt her? Why hit her at all then? You see Simon, you’re a fuck up! A predictable joke of a human being. I knew once you figured it out, you’d come after me and take me here to your little police sex den. The location was perfect.”

  Simon tilted his head at the mention of the safe house.

  “How did you know about this place?”

  Lauren smiled, seeing Simon’s eyes fill with fear.

  “As I said, I’ve been watching you Simon, I know you’re a womanising drunk. I’m probably not the last girl you set upon while she was out of it, telling yourself she wanted it, waking up beside her pretending nothing happened so she’s too confused to report you. You’re worse than me. At least I know how to finish what I start.”

  Simon looked around the room, no longer feeling in control of the situation. Even with her confession, bringing her in would be the end for him as well. Any hope he had of returning to the police force would be erased by her accusations and possibly land him in prison along with the countless criminals he helped put away. He couldn’t let that happen and with the absence of rational thought, he swallowed deep and decided his only option was to silence her permanently. He walked towards the locked panic room door at the rear of the apartment and opened it. Inside, the floor and walls were lined with plastic and the access door to the roof was open. As he stepped inside, the unexpected sight of the plastic covered room sent a cold shiver down his spine and looking at the open hatch overhead, he realised they were not alone. He reached into his pocket for the gun, but before he could turn around, he felt a sharp sting followed by a warmth flowing down his neck. His hands instinctively cupped his neck to stop the blood flow, but it was a hopeless effort. The scalpel blade that slit his throat had severed his carotid artery and was ejecting more blood than he could stop. He stumbled forward toward the back wall of the room and slowly turned around before falling to his knees.

  Through the mist of arterial spray emanating from between his fingers, he saw Lauren was now free from her restraints. Beside her stood his attacker, dressed in white coveralls. He helplessly looked on as Lauren walked into the plastic covered room holding the original group photograph of her younger self beside Pierce Renshaw, Clarissa Briggs, Kimberly Barnes, William Coope, Darren Taylor and a much younger looking Simon Meadowcroft. All the other victims had red crosses on their faces. Lauren crouched down and slowly dipped her thumb into the swelling blood pool below her feet. She then smeared the blood over Simon’s face in the photograph and held it in front of his weakening eyes. Turning around, she handed the picture to her accomplice. She then walked behind her victim, pulled his hands away from his neck and watched him bleed out. Once he conceded the struggle, she released his limp wrists and watched as the final piece of her past torment, Simon Meadowcroft, slumped to the floor and died in a pool of his own blood.