Made A Killing (Alex Warren Murder Mysteries Book 1)

by Zach Abrams

  “Alright, Boss, first of all this seems to have all been triggered by Stevenson. He's set up a blackmail scam. He's gone after powerful and or high wealth individuals. He's worked with Black to set up some internet grooming. He's found students looking for extra money rather than using the seasoned professionals and again Black's probably been at the centre of that. He's matched the targets with the girls or boys in his flat and then blackmailed them with the photos. One of the targets has flipped and come after him. He's killed Stevenson then turned over his house looking to remove any evidence against himself. He's then gone after Black and turned over his place too, but it looks as if Black did a runner and he got out on time. He's found out where Kerr lived, gone after him and finished him off then it looks as though Kerr's mother came home at the wrong time so he killed her as well. The killer is ruthless and he's intelligent. He knows a fair bit about forensics and police procedure so he's been able to cover his tracks but he's also brave and arrogant. The murders have been very bloody and messy. He wasn't just killing them, he was punishing them too. He must have been covered in the victim's blood, yet no one has really seen or heard anything. The break-ins too, there's not a trace. He must have been driving because he couldn't have walked through the streets without being seen, so he must have parked close by. At the murders and at the break-ins, he's had the tools he needed, gloves and whatever, so he didn't leave traces and he's removed the evidence he wanted from the scene, so again he must have been parked close by.”

  “Something else strange,” Phil cut in. “With the Stevenson murder, I've seen the photos and the first impression is that it was a spur of the moment thing. You don't plan to kill someone with an elephant tusk. It's hardly a weapon of choice. It must have just been convenient at the time. Stevenson's said or done something and the perp's lost it, he's probably grabbed the first thing to hand that he could use as a weapon and it was the tusk. He's wielded it at Stevenson, stabbing him in the belly, and rammed it home to kill him. There must have been blood and guts everywhere, yet there's no trace from the murderer, just a few footprints around the body. That means he was already geared up before the killing and that would take away the idea it was an impulse crime, or else he's somehow been able to get away without leaving any traces. To do that he'd have needed to strip off in situ and then get out to his car to get what he needed to clean up the crime scene.” Phil paused, “But nobody's seen him, either blood covered or bollock naked. Also if he has gone out to his car, after the murder, he'd have needed to leave the door open or at least unlocked. Anyone could have come in, unless he was parked right at the door.”

  There was a long pause as they all digested Morrison's conjecturing.

  “Here's a possibility,” Sandra suggested. “Stevenson sold antiques and I remember seeing some classic clothes hanging on a rail, the sort of things you see in old movies or maybe wear for fancy dress. Maybe the perp stripped off his bloody clothes and took some items off the rail.”

  “He wouldn't even have had to strip” Alex added. “He could just have put a jacket or a coat over what he was wearing. The one thing against all this is the footprints, his shoes must have been covered in blood and there were bloody prints near the body but nowhere else. If he'd walked to where the clothes were, or gone out the door, we'd have been able to track the footprints, unless he removed his shoes.”

  “Would that not mean his socks, or his feet, should have left traces?” Sandra enquired.

  “Not necessarily,” Alex replied, “But we should ask Connor the question. He'd have had to carry the shoes out with him so he'd either be in bare feet or else he must have found shoes in the shop as well as clothes.

  “We've had a couple of other reports back too,” Donny added. “Inspection of Stevenson's garden has found some spent revolver shells, also there were some marks in his trees where he may have set up targets. Would you believe the stupid fucker's being firing off live ammunition in a garden in one of the city's most prestigious suburbs? It's a wonder no one's complained.”

  “It's a wonder the crazy bastard's not killed someone,” Sandra cut in. “At least now we can rest a bit easier knowing where the gun's been used.”

  “Only if you rely on that being the only place he's fired it,” Alex replied negatively.

  “We've also got some feedback on the code book,” Donny continued. “From what I can make out from the draft report, it looks like the symbols are likely to tie in with codes for blackmail victims, dates and the amounts collected. They're still working on a full report and seeing if the amounts tie in at all with bank deposits, but from the sound of it, so far, it's pretty much what we suspected.”

  “We're running out of time just now. You two go and check out the Harbour flat, Sandra and I'll work on here, check what we have and chase along what we're waiting for. Then we've got the Sneddon interview. I think we want to have a team meeting early evening, bring Sanjay in for that and we'll then all be up to speed. I take it he's on nights again tonight?”

  Donny checked the staff rota and nodded.

  Sandra and Alex allocated each other the files with the new information received and took time to peruse them. Sandra took the preliminary M.E. and scene of crime reports from White Street, Alex looked over the updates from enquiries at the shop and house, further photograph analysis, CCTV reviews, telephone use summaries and feedback from the internet service providers.

  “Me first, well M.E. first actually,” Sandra claimed. “Taking together what Duffie and Connor have said, David Kerr died from blood loss following the slash to his throat, severing one carotid artery. The wound was most likely caused by a sharp blade, no more than six inches in length with a slight bevel on the edge, no serrations, possibly something like an ornamental knife. The trousers were almost certainly cut using the same knife. The pallet knife was inserted in his rear after he was dead. It cleanly penetrated his anus then ripped through the wall of his rectum and tore into other intestinal walls. The damage from that would have caused him a lifetime of pain and heartache if he hadn't already been dead.”

  “Every cloud has a silver lining,” Alex interrupted

  “There were no defence wounds or other wounds. No semen or any other interference with the body and no scars or distinguishing marks. From the angle and length of the cut to the neck, Kerr will have been standing facing his attacker not expecting an attack. The assailant will have been taller than him by perhaps six inches and he'll have been right handed. The neck was slashed in an upward stroke from left to right, from the attacker's perspective, almost like a backhand table-tennis flick and just as fast. Kerr had no recent sexual activity but the indications are of previous, not infrequent, anal activity.

  “If only we had his photograph sequence to go with the others?”

  “Quite so, Boss. Agnes Kerr was most likely killed by the same blade as her son. She had just climbed the stairs, she was perspiring and her coat was open. As she'd opened her front door the assailant has plunged the knife into her chest in an upward angle just at the base of her sternum. It's punctured her heart and she died almost immediately. No further attacks and no interference to the body or her clothes. Both killings were precisely carried out by someone who knew what he was aiming at and not afraid to get his hands dirty. They were not impulse killings, certainly not the lad and Mrs Kerr's murder was callous and unnecessary. Even if he didn't want to be seen he didn't need to kill her. It was cruel and he probably enjoyed the experience.”

  “That's the most worrying part. If he's enjoyed the experience, he'll probably look for an excuse to do it again.”

  “That's me, what have you got?”

  “First the telephone reports, Ballantyne claimed he hadn't heard back from Stevenson after the first meeting but I have two more calls made from the shop to his private number, the second one was the day before the murder. I think I might want to have another word with our Mr Ballantyne.

  “There were a lot of calls made to what turns out to be Black's fl
at and also his mobile and a number of other names have been put to the photos as a result of checking the call log. One's Alice Simpson, the millionairess who owns the chain of optician shops. She's been matched to some photos where she's sharing a bed with two young men. But this one's particularly interesting, it's been traced to a Sergeant Patrick Kennedy from Fife constabulary. He's forty-six years old and for some reason he's only on desk work now, but he used to be in CID. We certainly need to talk to him but first we need to get the politics right and clear it through official channels.

  “The ISP's been back to say they'll try to help. Someone's already accessed the 'Alone' site and cleared out most of the data, but they can access their backups in their archive if we can give them some time.

  “The door to door has taken the greatest resource but it's still coming up with zip. There've been various comments and complaints but nothing meaningful. We've had the usual batch of loonies giving us false leads or confessions and we've tracked down most of the vehicles that Fitzpatrick's given us from the CCTV. So far there've been innocent explanations for all the numbers we've traced. There are a couple of other cars where the numbers weren't clear enough, one's a silver Passat and the other's a red Fiesta. The techies are trying some new technology to see if they can get anything more.

  “We've an update from Thomson's squad, nothing much new but there's some more meat on the bones. Details of when properties were purchased, who they're let to, etc. His company share structures, the companies he's invested in, details of bank accounts and transfers. Now, here's a strange coincidence, and you know how I believe in coincidences. The newsagent shop he owns is let out to Mr Singh from White Street, you know, the Kerr's neighbour.

  “Finally, the word's going out tonight to see if anyone's spotted Black and that takes us up to date.”

  “What kind of connection could there have been between Singh and Stevenson?”

  “I just can't imagine. Maybe none, but we'll just need to see what crawls out of the woodwork.”

  “Come on, Boss, you're not suggesting Stevenson was a slum landlord as well? It's about the only thing we don't have him down as.”

  They both chuckled at the thought, just as Alex's phone rang. He saw it was Morrison's mobile and answered using speakerphone.

  “Hi, Phil, I take it you got in then?”

  “No problem, Boss. It turns out the main keys from the cash box all fit locks here. One Yale and the Mortise are for the front door and the second Yale for a cupboard. We've still to find the padlock though. Anyway it's quite a flat, really spacious and absolutely stunning. It's on the eighth floor and the views are amazing, the balcony's enormous and you can see right across the city. It's got one really large bedroom, the kitchen's beautiful with all mod cons and its open-plan to the lounge.”

  “Forget the estate agent speak and tell me what I need to know.”

  “Sorry, Boss, I was just a bit blown away by it. We got to this one on time, it's not been trashed. Is that not a bit strange though because the murderer obviously knew about it? He must have been here before. Maybe that's why he didn't come back, he didn't need to because he knew there was nothing here to incriminate him. Sorry, just thinking aloud.”

  “Don't apologise, it's a fair point. Go on”

  “The place is like a little palace, it's beautifully decorated and furnished and there's no doubt it's the location where the photos were taken. You can see from what's in the background if you examine the photos closely enough, and you're looking for the right things,” he added with a snigger. “If that wasn't enough, it's rigged out with minute spy cameras, even over the toilet in the bathroom, although most of them are in the bedroom. Some are standard and some are light sensitive, they'll still work in near darkness. It's pretty high tech, they're all the wireless type. Inside a cupboard, off the hall, there's a beast of a computer that collects all the signals and transmits them through the net. There was nothing I could find stored on the computer but there was a USB cable sticking out with nothing at the end so I think, as well as transmitting, it was recording onto an external disk which has been removed. The cupboard was lying open but it has a serious looking locking device on it as well as a Yale that corresponds with the second of the keys found in the shop but, as I said before, it had been left open. I reckon someone's been in and removed the external disk. The transmission was made by streaming onto the net but the recipient data has been removed. We'll need to get the techies to have a look see if they can find anything hidden or retrievable. You'll like this, Boss, the internet connection's with Virgin Media, would you believe it? They used a Virgin router, a bit ironic don't you think?”

  “Anything else?”

  “Oh, yes. The wardrobes are empty of normal clothes, except for freshly laundered towels and dressing gowns but there are some quite interesting fancy dress costumes and some rubber and leather gear. The drawers are full of toys. You could open a sex shop. Condoms, vibrators, dildos, creams and lotion, we've got the lot. We've got a cupboard full of bondage stuff as well, handcuffs, ankle straps, collars whips and the like. There are also some suspicious looking pills that I can't identify but I could make a fair guess. It's quite a love nest, there's a big plasma TV on the bedroom wall wired to a DVD player and there's a selection of blue movies there too. Donny's making a listing and a detailed study of them at the moment.”

  “That's not true,” Donny's voice came booming through the loudspeaker.

  “It's probably another waste of time, but I'll ask Connor to send someone to check this place over and definitely to check the computer,” Alex finished off, ignoring the banter. “Just get finished as quick as you can and get back in time for the team meeting.”

  Alex clicked off and turned to Sandra, “I should have known better than to let those two out on their own. Phil can really be quite funny, but I daren't offer him any encouragement or he'd become even more insufferable.”

  Sandra smiled indulgently and just then the call came through to advise that Carol Sneddon had arrived and was being taken to the interview room. They arrived at the room at the same time and Alex busied himself setting up the recording equipment leaving Sandra to make the introductions and lead the questions.

  She extended her arm in greeting. “Hello Carol, I'm Sergeant Sandra McKinnon of CID and this is DCI Alex Warren. I'd like to thank you for coming in to see us.” The girl standing before them was certainly a looker. She was aged about twenty and was slim and curvaceous, wearing impossible heels which accentuated her five foot eight height. She had long, straight, cherry red hair extending half way down her back. Her oval shaped face had Mediterranean features and olive-coloured skin which was complimented by deep hazel eyes embellished by very long lashes, probably false. She wore very little make up, only a touch of mascara and eye shadow and a hint of lip gloss but the effect was stunning. Her otherwise classy appearance was lost by her couture. Undeterred by the season, underneath her rain jacket she was practically naked. She wore no bra, the points of her nipples were clearly visible while her ample breasts were hardly restrained by what was little more than a scarf. It was a low-cut, tight-fitting cream coloured, short, wool sweater which left her midriff exposed. Her legs were bare and her black micro skirt might more accurately have been described as a belt. Her only underwear was a gold coloured thong and when she moved the skirt did little to protect this from view.

  Carol pushed past Sandra's outstretched hand and strolled into the room, “Why are you thanking me, you didn't leave me any choice. Why the hell have you brought me here? What's this all about anyway?”

  “The officers who picked you up must have explained already.”

  “Those two daft pricks told me nothing. I was just coming out of my exam and your stooges were standing at the door. They asked if I was Carol Sneddon and when I said I was they told me I had to go with them because you wanted me to answer some questions. I was on my way to the Union to celebrate my exam being over and instead I get dragged away here. I'm
really pissed off. You've got nothing on me. I don't do dope so I don't know what you want with me. Why don't you let me go? Then I'll still be able to catch my friends before they go on somewhere else.”

  “Not just yet. As the officers said, we have some questions to ask you. We believe you have some important information to assist us in our enquiries.”

  “What enquiries are they? Anyway, aren't you meant to read me my rights or something?” Ignoring Sandra, Carol turned and cast an eye over Alex and fluttered her long lashes seductively.

  “No, we haven't arrested you.” Sandra replied. “We just want you to answer some questions for us.”

  “In that case, I can just walk out then.”

  “Yes, you can, but we don't think that would be a very good idea, for us or for you.”

  “Okay, I'll stay long enough to find out what it's about and then I'll go.”

  “Fair enough, but when you know what it's about I don't think you'll be in such a hurry.”

  “Okay, you've got my interest, for a few minutes anyway.”

  “Take a seat and tell us what you know about Scott Stevenson”

  “Who?”

  Sandra showed his photo.

  “I've never seen him before. I told you this was a waste of time. No wait, is this not the man killed in a shop near the University, I saw this photo on the news, didn't I? What's this got to do with me?”

  “Are you telling me, you don't know him?”

  “I've never met him, I already said.”

  Sandra placed a couple of other photos on the table. Each showed Carol having sex with a different man.

  “What the fuck! Where did you get these?

  “We'll ask the questions”

  “No way. I'm leaving now. I'm phoning my dad. He's got clout. He'll have your jobs for this. What sort of fucking country is this if that's all the police are interested in?” Carol's chair screeched across the floor as she jumped to her feet.

  “I don't think so,” Alex, speaking for the first time, cut in forcefully speaking in little over a whisper, but the slow and clear intonations gave his words a sombre and threatening effect and captured Carol's full attention. “We didn't take the photos. Those ones, and plenty more like them, were found in Stevenson's house. But you've told us you don't know him. If you're telling us the truth then surely you'll want to know as much as we do who took them and how they've been used. Now you're right, you can walk free if you want, but it'll only be for a short while because if you're not going to help us then we might have to arrest you and charge you with conspiracy to defraud and with blackmail. We might add in soliciting as well, just for good measure.”