The Judas Murders

by Bill Williams

  THE JUDAS MURDERS

  AUTHOR

  BILL WILLIAMS

  Introduction

  Ron Gittins, a retired police officer, now a part time gardener has been working for elderly, wealthy people. His wife, Kyle a trained community nurse has been visiting them, treating their illnesses and caring for them.

  One lady suffering from a terminal illness dies suddenly, her doctor is away and so a locum attends the death. Not knowing her previous history he declines to issue a death certificate. As a result the Coroner is informed and a post-mortem is held.

  By great surprise it is discovered the patient was the victim of murder. It is later discovered that Ron and Kyle have been left £20,000 by the deceased.

  As a result they are eventually arrested on suspicion of murdering their benefactor.

  Jack the Hat Richards, a retired detective of New Scotland Yard, now living locally, is told of the case by one of the investigating officers. He suggests that the case may not be isolated and so as a result, police enquiries are broadened out.

  His advice proves correct, eventually the cases become one of serial killings. Ron and Kyle not only visiting the victims but are left a large sum of money by each of them.

  There are now political ramifications, is this conduct by police officers and nurses endemic? There are calls for a public enquiry.

  Jack the Hat who has previously been recalled to assist the police in such difficult cases is once again called in to ensure the couple are convicted thus avoiding the fallout. He reviews the enquiries and the evidence but goes further making enquiries of his own, assisted by an inexperienced officer.

  Things are not always what they appear to be! This is a mystery murder investigation to the very end.

  All Books are Copyright of

  Bill Williams

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrievable system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  The events, places and characters in this book are fictitious and it is not intended the story should bear any resemblance to reality in the police service, any individual police force, nursing service or to any incident or of any person living or dead. If so, this is coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  On the last day of her life Iris Carter lay looking at the bedside timepiece, it was just five o’clock. “Heaven’s, so very early again,” she mumbled, nowadays she often talked to herself.

  “Is it really too much to ask to sleep until eight o’clock?” She rambled on.

  All she could do now was lie, turn and at best gaze through the window at the trees and hills beyond. There was one consolation, it was a very nice spring morning and the birds were singing.

  Awaking early, not requiring much sleep was only one of the many burdens of becoming old, loss of memory was another, she thought.

  Now looking onto her bedside table and not seeing her reading glasses which would have enabled her to pass the time perusing her magazines was another.

  The most significant disadvantage was being unable to care for oneself and thus being a burden, some say, nuisance to everyone else from her son and his family to the various people now required to assist her to exist in something resembling a normal life.

  Iris, was now 86 years young, as her friendly gardener had often said, “he will have a different attitude when he attains my age,” she had thought. He was such a kind man and always willing to help.

  She had lived alone since the passing of her husband over twenty years ago. Aubrey her only son lived some twenty miles away but who, in fairness did visit once each month, he was so busy in the family business you see.

  On a day to day basis Heather Morris her carer arrived at 8 am prompt to assist her out of bed, dressing, bathing, plus getting the meals. Generally, this lady, herself a widow, was the mainstay in her life.

  The many ailments which inevitably arrived with old age were suitably treated on a day to day basis by Sister Kyle Gittins, the District Nurse and wife of Ron the gardener, a retired police officer. They were the ideal couple to have around, trustworthy and people one could confide in. Kyle was a devoted and highly qualified nurse, always available at home day or night if required. Come to think of it this couple were worth much more than they were paid, she had said to her son and other confidents.

  The garden being so large was all very well when husband Tom and she had moved into this very large bungalow located at Oak Lane, on the edge of the up market village of Kellsall, a short drive from Chester City, those many years ago. But since his passing, the garden had become a burden.

  One always liked to keep the place tidy in the event the Vicar or any of the ladies from the Women’s` Institute or the Church Guild arriving. Gone were the days of the gatherings for coffee mornings or afternoon tea, it was now just the odd occasion these days, passing of the time of day. Certainly there was never any tittle-tattle as took place at the council houses nearer the centre of Kelsall, or so she had heard. In addition it was so pleasant to gaze upon the garden, especially in spring, bird nesting time.

  She had been fortunate she thought to have Ron, the husband of Nurse Kyle to come and carry out the garden and other maintenance.

  He, being a recently retired police officer, even her son Aubrey had been pleased Ron was on the team as he put it. Having an ex copper around would ensure Grandma was safe and well. Any problems, having Ron on tap for advice was certainly a bonus.

  How things had changed since husband Tom had died, she thought mournfully, almost depressed.

  Now lying alone in bed, with ample time and only able to ponder, she was unable to see to read without the aid of her reading glasses.

  The damn things they must have been knocked down onto the floor, probably when she had reached for a glass of water sometime in the long restless night, she reminded herself.

  Yes Tom, he had been a wonderful husband, always the gentleman. He was a loving and attentive partner, always putting her first.

  There had once been a scare however. She smiled as she recalled the incident, now so long ago.

  In those far off days, Tom had been only a junior partner in the financial company Aaron and Rosman, in the city of London. He was away from Monday to Friday living in a hotel penthouse with several other young and enthusiastic city traders. She had been a secretary to a local solicitor Jordan Rochester. Both Tom and she worked long hours, their son Aubrey was away at private school, it was a time to set the base for their later wealth and prosperity.

  In those days she first became a member of the various local organisations for women. The Women’s Institute, where she acquired many culinary skills and the church Ladies Circle club to name but some.

  The evenings were as busy after the office legal work was completed, even week-ends when Tom arrived back they were often busy being involved in a variety of local matters.

  She smiled now as she pondered and recalled that scary day. It was one week in August when Tom had taken a holiday to go Grouse Shooting, the glorious twelfth and all that he would say.

  She kept busy, attending the various social gatherings of the Institute, then there was the church and another, the name of which she could no longer recall.

  She smiled as she thought of dear Gail Elton, one of the more enthusiastic tittle-tattle spreaders of the regular inner circle of the, “Cheshire Set,” ladies as the more common folk referred to them.

  Gail, she noticed, was serving tea on that Saturday, but appeared to spend longer than was necessary at each of the tables she was waiting upon. In addition it was the glancing back towards her, the snigger as some gossip or other was clearl
y being imparted.

  It came to a head not then but the following Saturday at another event when Gail could clearly hold her tongue no longer.

  “I say Iris, I thought I must ask, are you and Tom getting on well, you know a normal married relationship?”

  Iris recalled how she must have looked either amazed or even disgusted for before she could respond, Gail continued,

  “You see, not that I am nosey or a gossip and of course I would never breathe a word of this to anyone, but as we are such good friends I really must tell you.” continued Gail, clearly in reality savouring the moment to impart some scandalous or disastrous news.

  Iris recalling full well Gail had already imparted what she was about to say to all the females now present and possibly more but not here today.

  Iris had responded, “Pray what is the reason for your despair and concern for the marriage of Tom and I, Gail?”

  “Terrible news it is,” she replied, hesitating then looking around as if she was concerned anyone should be aware of the information, no, it was not information, rather evidence of infidelity, she was about to impart.

  “I must say that on two previous Saturday mornings this month whilst in Chester I was taking morning coffee and who should I see but your hubby Tom. He was in discussion at first, with a very attractive blonde haired lady about his age but it was later Iris oh yes, later it occurred.”

  “Good gracious,” replied Iris, to say she was shattered would be the understatement of the year.

  “I am sorry, to be the one to tell you,” Continued Gail, “but there is worse news I am afraid,” she added.

  Iris now feeling faint at this revelation, but then, felt fortitude arise within her. The last thing she would want was for the Queen of all gossips to see her panic into a fit of distress.

  “What worse news could that be, my dear Gail what is it that you feel so impatient to relate to me?”

  “Well I will tell you,” she was finally about to relieve her tension by spurting out what she knew, “during last Wednesday I think it was, I saw Tom again in the company of this lady. They now appeared to be much closer. I saw him reach across the table and take her hand, squeeze it and then, as they parted, they kissed.”

  Iris could feel the blood draining from her face, almost faint she was, when at the last moment Gail spoke, excitedly.

  “Here is Tom now and good heavens, he has that blonde with him. What a hussy and a flighty piece of work she looks. She has even brought a suitcase with her. Either Tom is about to leave you Iris or he is moving that woman in with you.”

  Thinking back on the gossiping and recalling the excitement in the face of gossip Gail and also the looks of the other ladies, who were now whispering to each other and to their men folk. The whole place was a buzz as it had never been before, how could Tom do this to her it was inconceivable.

  How Iris survived the event without fainting or running away in despair, even running forward, large serrated edged cake knife in hand to seek instant revenge this hussy had clearly earned, she would never know.

  Tom then looked across and with a broad smile, raised both his hands.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he indicated for Iris to walk over, she complied and did so still having large long cake knife in hand.

  There was complete silence, some deep breaths and fixed eyes.

  “My dear loving wife Iris, I have some wonderful news to impart. May I please introduce to you Mrs Melissa Arkwright, a lady from my seedy past, which I must now confess?”

  All present were eagerly awaiting the worst. Either this was his long lost mistress, or worse, his bigamous wife.

  “Mrs Arkwright contacted me some short time ago at my London office. She had traced me through confidential sources.”

  All waited not even a cup raised, ready for the worst possible news for Iris.

  “You may not know this, but my loving wife, Iris is aware of my past. I was brought up in the care of the local authority. My father, a military officer, was killed in action. My mother suffered poverty and thus sent me for adoption. I was always aware I had a sister but who, or where she was I never knew.”

  “Due to the diligent enquiries and researching Mrs Arkwright here has made, she has discovered that she is in fact my long lost sister. We have met several times in Chester to discuss the evidence. I had not spoken of this fearing it may come to nothing.”

  “The other day, and Mrs Gail Elton over there, will no doubt be able to confirm this, as she was seated nearby, that is if she has not already done so. Enquiries verify to the joy of both Mrs Arkwright and myself, that we are in fact, siblings.”

  There had been loud cheering, Iris looked at Gail, who was now quietly walking out through the rear door.

  Melissa was joined by her husband and thus they stayed for several days getting up to date.

  Iris now nodded and laughed as she recalled how it was a story in which they all lived happily ever after; save for Gail who for some reason suddenly had lost interest in the local ladies groups.

  Some mile or so away whilst Iris was pondering, Heather Morris had risen at seven o’clock; she showered, dressed and breakfasted. Having fed her pet cat Tommy, and budgerigar Tamba, it was almost time for work.

  “Come on you two,” she said, she always talked to them, living alone they were her only company.

  She closed then locked the rear door of her cottage, turning now into the adjacent outhouse she pulled back her sit up and beg, pedal cycle, her only mode of transport for the last thirty years.

  She then rode off up the lane, thinking that she should remain vigilant to avoid the numerous potholes.

  What a peaceful, tranquil day it was, as the birds were singing on this bright pleasant spring morning. What a pleasure it was to be alive she thought, as the tractor of the local farmer drove past, the young driver raising his cap as always.

  The next to arrive and drive past was the local bus, taking the shop workers into Chester to commence their labours for the day.

  Several passengers nodded, the driver giving a toot, then putting up a hand in recognition of her.

  What could be better to live in such pleasant surroundings of of peace and tranquillity, in life if only such a temperate day could last forever, unfortunately life was not like that as she was soon to discover.

  She arrived on time, a minute or so before eight. She had made this journey for nearly twenty five years. It was thus far no different than any other, the day would not end as seemingly peaceful as it had begun.

  Placing her cycle on the house wall near the rear door but ensuring that it was well away from the doorway itself, just in case Iris was to venture out on her walking frame. The last thing needed was for her to slip and fall as a result of some obstruction.

  Now searching her handbag for the door key, “blast, I must clean out this handbag it is in a dreadful state, full of rubbish. The times I have intended to sort it out” she mumbled as she could not find the key.

  “Ah,” at last she found it, in the centre pocket under her purse. Inserting the key she turned it and was inside the house in only a moment.

  Iris jumped slightly, she had nodded off back to sleep and the door banging closed had startled her.

  “Mornin, Mrs Carter,” called Heather, using the local slang leaving out the “G.”

  In spite of working at the establishment for all these years as a cleaner, general help and lately as a carer, she still referred to her employer as Mrs Carter. Visa versa she was always Mrs Morris.

  Finally taking off her coat, replacing it with her work overall stored from the end of one day to the beginning of the next on a coat hanger at the rear of the old door.

  Heather first of all took the kettle, filled it with clean water and switched it on.

  She then reached over and dragged over the teapot and then Iris’s cup she had already left on the work surface under the kitchen window the night before.

  Placing the bags of Earl Gray tea inside the pot, M
rs Carter routinely had Earl Gray and two bags, in the small pot. She always said a nice strong brew of tea was all she had left in life, with two Marie biscuits at breakfast of course.

  Whilst the kettle was set to boil, Heather ran up the stairs and after knocking but not waiting for a call to enter, she arrived inside.

  “Good morning to you Mrs Morris, a very pleasant morning, no doubt you enjoyed the cycle ride up.”

  “Indeed I did Mrs Carter, but the potholes in the lane seem to be getting worse.”

  “Is that so?” replied Iris, “the council cuts are really biting, you just be careful riding up here, I do not know what I would do if anything was to befall you,”

  “How does the day find you Mrs Carter?” asked Heather.

  “Not too bad, I feel quite well really, the pain comes and goes of course but I endeavour to persevere. I was awake again early, always so very early, I must have knocked my spectacles off the side table during the night. I was unable to do any reading. I spent the time reminiscing. You know, as strange as it may seem, thinking back all the years there was an incident which stuck out in my mind.”