SLASH KILLER an absolutely addictive crime thriller with a huge twist (Detective Mike Nash Thriller Book 5)

by Bill Kitson

  ‘Nowadays Coningsby has only one serious rival. How do you compete with Broadwood Construction?’

  ‘They’re a tough bunch, that’s for sure. So we have to be as tough, as competitive, and if we’re lucky we win out. Harry Rourke’s another who’s built a company from nothing. As such, I respect him enormously. That isn’t to say I wouldn’t cut his throat as soon as look at him. Just the same as he’d do to me. In a business sense, that is.’

  ‘So what of the future? What exactly are your political ambitions?’

  ‘My approach to politics is modelled on the way I ran Coningsby, or CBC as it was then, in the early days, when survival was my greatest ambition. I know quite a lot’s been said and written about me, but to be honest I try to ignore all that. What concerns me at the moment is winning the by-election. Anything beyond that will have to wait. Only when it’s over will I start to think of what follows.’

  Despite the modesty of his stated ambitions I think it will be only a matter of time before Julian Corps is MP for Central Yorkshire constituency. After that, who knows? Maybe we do have a future Prime Minister in our midst. One thing is for sure. At least he won’t have to worry about getting a wage at the end of the week.

  Marshall whistled aloud with surprise, then glanced around nervously. The compartment was still empty. He relaxed and considered the facts he’d just read. It was another face, another name from the past. He didn’t think there was a connection with what had happened to him, but then, after what he’d just read, nothing would surprise him.

  The difficulty he had was trying to reconcile the profile in the paper with the man he remembered. Corps hadn’t been much more than a front man with a salesman’s demeanour. Certainly not a business heavyweight. And certainly not capable of slugging it out with the likes of Harry Rourke. So how had he turned himself into the tycoon described in the article?

  Nash had travelled to York for a meeting and was waiting in his car for his contact to arrive. He was approached; the newcomer introduced himself. ‘DI Russell, Charlie to my friends. What’s this all about? And why the need for secrecy?’

  Nash explained. There was a moment’s silence before Russell responded. ‘If you’re convinced the man’s innocent, why is his face splashed over all the papers, and why the hue and cry after him?’

  Nash’s face was grim as he replied, ‘Mainly for his own protection. There are things happening with regard to our investigation that I’d rather not go into, certainly not at this stage. But let’s say the successful appeal against Marshall’s original conviction was a triumph for justice.’

  ‘You’re saying this man Marshall was framed?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Then I can understand the need for discretion. What you’ve told me about the case tallies with certain information I’ve been able to dig out about the man who lives at the address you gave me.’ The officer paused. ‘Although information’s a bit too strong a word.’

  ‘You know something about him?’

  ‘John Brown? That isn’t his real name by the way. But I reckon you’ve probably already guessed that. When I said information was too strong a word, I meant that there’s nothing concrete against him. Nothing worse than a couple of parking tickets. However, there are lots of rumours. Highly unsavoury rumours at that.’

  He saw Nash’s quizzical expression. ‘Let’s just say he’s suspected of being “for hire”. No proof, obviously, but the word on the street is that if you want somebody disposing of, and you’ve plenty of money to spare, Brown’s the man to contact. He’s far from cheap, but he’s supposed to be highly efficient. His speciality’s the knife, unless you want the event to look like an accident, which he can also arrange quite easily.’

  ‘The knife bit tallies with what’s happened to the victims in our case,’ Nash pointed out.

  ‘Again, I’m going on hearsay, and third-hand hearsay at that. I’ve a colleague in the murder squad who got most of this from an informant. He’d to do a lot of talking and make a few threats before the man could be persuaded to say a word. That’s how much Brown’s feared. Anyway, the man said Brown’s such an artist with the knife, he sets up his own defence. If anybody challenges him, or if he’s ever accused of the crime, he makes it look impossible for him to have done it.’

  ‘How can he do that?’

  ‘I have to admit there’s a touch of genius about it. He makes the crimes appear as if they’ve been committed by a left-hander.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  Russell demonstrated. ‘If a right-handed killer went up to his victim from behind, you’d expect him to cut the throat from the victim’s left side, across to the right. What Brown does is cut from right to left. A sort of backhand action.’

  ‘A back-slash? That’s interesting.’ Nash remembered Mexican Pete’s words. ‘Our pathologist thought at first the two victims in the hotel had been killed by a left-handed person, but when he examined them closer, he wasn’t as convinced. I’m still waiting for him to come back to me with a final opinion. But, from what you say, Brown could have done it, and made it look like a left-hander, simply by using a back-slash.’

  ‘Maybe. But like I say, everything you’ve just heard is little more than rumour. But now that they know about it, our murder guys are more than keen to see how things develop. They reckon if we can nail Brown, we can clear up quite a few unsolved murders of our own.’

  ‘Then let’s make a start. Let’s go talk to Mr Brown.’

  They walked across the gravel towards the front door. It was one of those dark mid-winter days where it barely seems to get light all day. A PIR light sprang to life, disturbed by their movement. Apart from that, the building appeared to be in total darkness. Nash rang the bell. There was no response, so, after trying a second and third time, he tried the door. It was locked. ‘Let’s have a look round the back,’ Russell suggested.

  They found the parking area empty of cars. ‘Looks as if we’ve drawn a blank.’ Nash sighed. ‘I’ve had a long drive for nothing.’ He walked across to the back door and reached for the handle. He didn’t need to turn it, the door opened at his touch. He glanced back at his colleague. ‘Something’s not right.’

  ‘We’d better have a look inside,’ his companion agreed.

  They were about to enter the building when they heard the sound of a siren. It was close and rapidly getting nearer. Neither of them associated the sound with themselves until a squad car, lights blazing, skidded round the gravel sweep and pulled to an abrupt halt alongside them. Fortunately the officers knew the local detective. After some confused explanations, the driver of the patrol car told them, ‘One of the residents in that block’ – he pointed to an adjacent building – ‘saw somebody lurking suspiciously near the dustbins a couple of hours back. By the time they rang us and we got here there was no sign of life. We rang the doorbell, but couldn’t get any reply.’

  ‘Did you try this door?’ Nash asked.

  The uniformed officer nodded. ‘It was all secure then, both this one and the front.’

  ‘That means, if anything did happen here, it happened after your visit,’ Nash said thoughtfully, as much to himself as to the others. ‘Were there any cars about?’

  The officer shook his head. ‘The thing is, there’s been a spate of burglaries around here recently, all committed during the daytime. We reckon it’s the time of year. After Christmas, somebody short of cash, need to pay the bills before the end of January.’

  ‘I think we should have a look inside, there’s obviously a problem here,’ Nash said. ‘Especially now we’ve got back-up.’

  All appeared well as they ventured up the stairs but at the top they could see the door to Brown’s flat had been forced open. Charlie Russell handed out disposable gloves. The first room was a living room. They could tell at a glance that the place had been ransacked. ‘Yes, this place has been done over, but there doesn’t appear to be anything missing. The TV and electrical stuff’s still here.’


  ‘Maybe he got disturbed, sir,’ one of the officers suggested.

  Russell shrugged and indicated the doors to the left. ‘Check those out. I’ll have a look in here.’ He pointed to a third door.

  Left to his own devices, Nash wandered over to the far side of the living room, where a small office had been created from a desk and computer workstation. An open filing cabinet stood alongside; a bunch of keys hanging from the lock. He called to Russell, who hurried back into the room with the constables. ‘There are two Yale keys on here,’ Nash pointed to the key-ring. ‘And that fob, it’s the same make of car as Brown’s. I reckon these are Brown’s spare keys. Let’s see what’s so interesting in these.’ He gestured to the dining-table where the files had been spread out. Nash began examining the folders as he spoke. ‘There are bank accounts with virtually every bank and building society you can think of. They’re all in different names, small deposits in each one on similar dates over the years.’

  ‘That’s a professional’s work, to avoid suspicion of money laundering. Very clever. How long have the accounts been open?’

  ‘Twenty years at least judging from the statements.’

  ‘That would explain it. The regulations only came into being piecemeal, so if the account was already open, Brown was safe.’

  Nash found an even more revelatory file. At first glance it seemed to contain nothing more than a handful of press cuttings. He lifted it clear for inspection. Each news report concerned a murder or sudden violent death. Some of the cuttings were old, the pages yellowed. The earliest was dated 1983. After flicking over one or two Nash stopped. ‘Look at that!’ Nash pointed to the cutting. ‘I think that confirms who killed Anna Marshall.’

  Russell turned to the officers. ‘I think we should make a thorough examination of this flat. You two make a start. In the meantime we’ll have a look at these.’

  ‘There are cuttings on Moran and Robertson as well,’ Nash continued. ‘I think we should have a closer look, try to spot a link with any other deaths.’ Nash pulled the file towards him.

  While they were still reading, the officers came out of the bedrooms. ‘Anything?’ Russell asked.

  ‘Yes, in one of the wardrobes there’s a boiler suit wrapped in a bin liner. There are a lot of stains on it. I’m willing to bet they’re bloodstains.’

  Nash looked up. ‘I’ll be interested to read the forensics on those. We know the killer of the couple in the hotel wore a waiter’s livery when he slashed their throats. If our suspicions about Brown are correct, I reckon I can guess the identity of the owner of the blood on those overalls.’

  ‘Are you going to share this with us?’ Charlie Russell asked.

  ‘I’d guess it will match that of Councillor Jeffries, the councillor who was murdered in Leeds two nights ago.’

  ‘We may have answered a few questions, but there are still a couple of big ones remaining,’ Russell said. ‘Number one: who was the suspicious character reported near the back of the building earlier, and second: what’s happened to Brown?’

  ‘That,’ Nash said, ‘is the million-dollar question.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  The following morning, when Nash walked into the CID suite, Andrews was already there. He signalled to her to follow him. They’d barely reached his office when Jack Binns called out, ‘Mike? I’ve got Superintendent Dundas of Yorkshire Central for you on the phone. He sounds like a boiler about to explode.’

  Nash studied a moment. ‘Tell him I’m in a meeting and can’t be disturbed. Join us as soon as you can, Jack.’

  After he’d explained the events of the previous day to them, he sighed. ‘I need time to think all this through. I’ll have to take it to the chief. We might have identified the killer of the couple from The Golden Bear, and a connection to the Jeffries murder. However, the rest of the news is far from good. Marshall seems to have an uncanny knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m only guessing, but he may be in serious danger. May even be dead by now.’

  ‘I hope not, he’s a nice bloke. I told you what happened at my flat when my ex turned up?’ She went on to explain about the surveillance and her suspicions of Smailes.

  ‘Sounds as if you did the right thing, ditching him. Don’t worry about the internal guys. I’ll get the chief to sort that. With what’s in here’ – he tapped his files – ‘that won’t be difficult.’ He paused for a second or two. ‘Although, it might be better if things took their course. From an outsider’s point of view at least.’

  ‘I don’t understand?’

  ‘We now know Marshall’s innocent. It might be to our advantage to let those who really are responsible for the killings believe we still think he’s guilty, and that we’re still hunting him. If they see you’ve been suspended following investigation, it would further the illusion.’

  Lisa stared at him in disbelief. ‘You mean to say you’re going to let them ruin my career? But I haven’t done—’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Nash interrupted. ‘I’ll see you’re OK. I’m going through to Netherdale. I’m meeting Superintendent Edwards and then we’re taking all this to the chief. Jack, anybody rings for me I’ll be back late this afternoon.’

  ‘What about Superintendent Dundas?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Particularly him. If anyone from Internal Affairs rings, tell them where I am. No one else though.’

  The chief constable was predictably shocked by Nash’s news. He produced the file and pointed out the relevant parts. O’Donnell sat back in her chair. ‘How do you want to play it, Mike?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that on the way over. Obviously we can’t have Dundas investigating the Jeffries case or anything where Alan Marshall’s a supposed suspect. On the other hand, we don’t want to alert the real killer to the fact that he’s been rumbled. One way would be to combine operations, with us taking charge, but the way we are on manpower that’s also a non-runner. All I can think is to let Yorkshire Central continue with the Jeffries enquiry but keep them clear of the Moran/Robertson case.’

  ‘You’re absolutely convinced Marshall’s innocent?’

  ‘Oh yes, without a doubt. I’m not sure exactly what happened with the Jeffries murder, but I’m inclined to believe Marshall’s version of events. As to the others, I was unhappy about the original conviction when I read the file you’ve just looked at. As to Moran, well, if you look at the photo of Marshall and imagine him trying to get into that waiter’s uniform it’d make you laugh. There’s also this letter.’ Nash placed it on the chief’s desk. ‘Moran arranged for it to be sent to Marshall in the event of anything happening to him. Obviously, Moran had done something that made him fear for his own life and wanted to put things right. It clears Marshall completely. It does more than that, though. It suggests the motive for Anna Marshall’s murder lies in Marshall’s own past. What that might be, I’ve no idea. Nor will I have until I can get to talk to him, providing he hasn’t become a victim as well. And that’s a real possibility. Forensics has found traces of blood on the knife from Marshall’s cottage matching both Moran’s and Robertson’s, besides his.’

  Nash explained what had happened in York. ‘My only hope is that Marshall has managed to steer well clear of Brown and gone to ground somewhere. If so, he’s alive and well. But if he encountered Brown, then I think we must assume that Marshall’s dead. The local DI told me Brown’s reputation is horrific. Unfortunately none of the information is provable, except for what we found in Brown’s flat.’

  Nash told her about the paperwork. ‘That in itself is damning, but it might not be enough to secure a conviction on its own. However, there’s more.’ Nash related the finding of the bloodstained boiler suit. ‘If the blood turns out to be that of Councillor Jeffries, we’ve a cast-iron case.’

  ‘There’ve been no sightings of Marshall, then?’

  ‘None whatsoever. That worries me, worries me a lot. The only thing is, there’s been no sign of Brown returning to his flat either. I find that
rather strange. He’d no knowledge that we’d been there or that there’d been an intruder, I assume. No reason to think there was anything amiss. York CID has somebody watching the place, and Brown’s not been near. Nor have there been any visitors.’

  ‘We must hope Marshall turns up, then. I don’t see we can do any other.’ The chief constable glanced at Ruth Edwards, who nodded agreement.

  ‘There’s one other thing I need to discuss though. It’s to do with DC Andrews.’ Nash explained about the surveillance. ‘I’m concerned about her,’ he admitted.

  ‘I can get that quashed easily enough,’ the chief said. ‘I imagine that’s what you want, manpower being as it is?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Nash said. He glanced at Edwards. ‘Ruth and I have a different plan, but we need you to sanction it.’

  Nash outlined what they had in mind. At the end of it, O’Donnell leaned back in her chair. ‘You do realize it’s totally unorthodox.’ She studied both Nash and Edwards. ‘OK, but as long as Ruth’s involved and ensures everything is documented, I think it could just work.’

  ‘Thanks, ma’am,’ Nash said as he stood up to leave.

  ‘Ruth, would you mind? I’d like a word with Mike before he bolts back to Helmsdale.’

  ‘Certainly, Chief,’ Ruth turned to Nash. ‘Do you want me to ring Dundas for you?’

  ‘That would be great, thanks.’

  When Ruth had left, O’Donnell smiled. ‘You’re a devious son of a bitch sometimes, Mike. We’ll play it your way. Now, can I ask about your domestic arrangements?’

  ‘Sorry, ma’am, I’m not with you.’

  ‘It seems your seductive charm has reached the rank of superintendent, I don’t want you to get ideas that it could reach any higher.’