Mystery: The Isherwood Case Files (Mystery, Suspense, Crime, Murder, Detectives, Fiction, Unsolved Mysteries, Mysteries, Thriller, Intense, Drama)

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Mystery: The Isherwood Case Files (Mystery, Suspense, Crime, Murder, Detectives, Fiction, Unsolved Mysteries, Mysteries, Thriller, Intense, Drama) Page 5

by Johnny Scotland


  There were letters awaiting Ian Bradshaw that the lucky sod would never have to answer, letters that looked decidedly like bills. A knock at the door heralded the arrival of the neighbor.

  “Where's Ian?” the man demanded. “Who are you.”

  Isherwood showed his identification and introduced himself. He didn't want to volunteer too much information at this stage. Death tends to either make tongues waggle incessantly or make people clam up and he didn't want to be subjected to either.

  “Just routine inquiries.” he said. “Do you know Mr. Bradshaw's whereabouts yesterday?” he asked.

  “Oh my” said the man in a joking nature. “Is Ian in big trouble. I suspected as much.”

  “What gave you the idea he was in trouble?” asked Isherwood.

  “He's mixing with women who he shouldn't be mixing with.” said the neighbor, winking as if he was privy to information of a very delicate nature. Isherwood wasn't much good at playing one of the boys, but in this case made an exception.

  “Oh, God. Tell me about it. It's the reason I left London in the first place.” he said.

  “Well this woman's big fry. He showed me her picture and she's way out of his class.” he said.

  “Can you describe her?” he asked.

  “She was very slim with well built jugs – you know what I mean, but she had long auburn hair and the cutest smile.”

  “Did he keep the photo anywhere I can see it?” he asked.

  “Probably in his desk. That's usually where he put junk.”

  “Do you know the guy really well?” asked Isherwood.

  “I guess I do. We have been friends for over five years, though he was never going to make it big time. We talked about it a lot and he had more ambition than me, but at least I am happy with my lot.”

  “And Ian isn't?” asked Isherwood.

  “No, not at all. He was always seeking the impossible dream. He had the charm to go with it, but personally, I couldn't be bothered with all that pretense.” he said.

  “I may need you to help me further with inquiries.” said Isherwood, “but I do need to search the house now, and shouldn't contaminate it with excess finger prints.”

  The man turned. “I know when I'm not needed.” he said, leaving Isherwood in an empty house full of another man's dreams. Turning to the desk, there were telephone numbers galore and certainly many photographs that may well have been the woman in question. He would need Robert to interview the man and show him the images to see if any sprung to mind as being Ian's date for that last fatal night.

  The aroma in the room was a little peculiar. It was the kind of perfume that definitely lingered a little too long, and Isherwood thought this may be useful upon his visit to the hotel today, since no doubt that lingering odor would be present in the bedroom which had been frequented by Ian Bradshaw and his lady friend. That would at least please the hotel manager, who would then be able to open up the rest of that floor. The initials KB had been written into Bradshaw's diary for the night of his demise. This would also be significant. He closed the door as he left, and waved goodbye to the neighbor who was peeking from behind his suburban curtains.

  Chapter 4 – Putting the Pieces Together

  “The art of simplicity is a puzzle of complexity”

  Douglas Horton

  Isherwood hated loose ends. He called at the hotel in the morning to take another look at the two rooms which were queried as being potentially the crime scenes. The lingering odor of that perfume would surely still be on the bed sheets of the room in question. Indeed they were and he was able to order the cordoning off of this one single room, as being the scene of the crime. Searching through the room, he tried to imagine the kind of people who would have stayed here. There was little left to look at since forensics had done their job, but as he stooped to look beneath the bed, he noticed something shiny. It turned out to be a small piece from a condom package. Not much of a clue and could have been there for months.

  This was a murder about as bland as any he had ever experienced. For instance, there was no particular signs of an argument. No one had seen who stayed in that room with him, and nothing had really shown up as outstanding. Even the home of the victim had shown no real signs of the victim's character or his behavior. That was unusual. There were no clues other than the initials and then, they were only a vague guess. There had to be something that he had missed and he wasn't accustomed to missing things. He decided that he would call back at the house later, if nothing else came from today's inquiries.

  Charley and Robert were waiting anxiously. “Well guv” they joked. “Found anything new?”

  “We have a name and address which I have checked out.” said Isherwood as he began to fill out the crime board. A photograph of the victim was placed at the top.

  “We know he lived a pretentious lifestyle and that he was easily impressed by women who were celebrities. In his diary, he had the initials KB which, incidentally, Robert I need you to check with the hotel.”

  “So what's the plan?” said Charley.

  “We need to put the pieces together. What we have is a name and an address. We know that Ian Bradshaw was easily chatted up by good looking ladies of influence. What we don't know is who the lady is. In order to put all the pieces together, we need to know what her name is and to find some kind of motive for what happened.”

  “And what about the coroner's office? Have we heard back yet?”

  “Yes” said Isherwood. “The man died of a blow to the back of the head, but since he was thrown in what was an empty laundry chute at the time, that's hardly surprising. The thing is, we seem to be looking for a strong person, strong enough to have dragged him along the corridor and thrown him down the chute and that doesn't sound like a woman.”

  “No guests with the initials KB” said Robert, who had consulted the guest list.

  “I think in this case...” said Isherwood, “we need a woman officer to help us.”

  The detectives looked at him as if he was mad. “Why a woman?” they asked.

  “Who else do you know that would know each of the celebrities who appeared in the hotel foyer yesterday?”

  “That's smart thinking.” said Charley, “I know just the girl.”

  After several hours of sifting through the footage, the gamble paid off. In fact, the girl they chose was a celebrity specialist. She not only knew who each of them were, but she was also good at spotting outsiders and knew who was having an affair with who. There were, at the end of the viewing potentially 4 celebrities with the initials KB. Photos of these were lined up on the board and Isherwood decided that this was one task he wanted to do himself. He needed something tangible to go on, although he asked Robert to accompany him. Bland murders don't gel right, and he was getting a distinct impression that this could be his first failed case. That worried him.

  With all the pieces that they had placed together, getting the paper to run a story with a photograph was the one last hope that someone would come forward. Charley was owed a favor by the newspaper, so that was pretty easy to get up and running fast. Local TV would do the rest. If all of these pieces didn't amount to putting the last of the puzzle together, Isherwood was running out of ideas.

  Chapter 5 – Taking on the Celebrities

  “When everything gets answered, it's fake”

  Sean Penn

  Since his arrival in Los Angeles, Jon Isherwood had never felt so uncomfortable. He didn't like the starry world of celebrities much, and they didn't impress him with their fake charisma. He wasn't impressed by money and felt out of his depths when talking with people of this class. However, the job had to be done. He owed it to Ian Bradshaw to find out who was responsible for his death.

  The first two KB celebrities could be ruled out, since both were out of town at the moment and would have to be interviewed later. However, the KB that greeted them now from behind expensive glass doors was Kimberly Bennett. She was a superstar in her own right and Isherwood recognized h
er as she walked toward them. Her home was protected by all manner of gadgets, though they had found their way past them and were now entering the home.

  “Come in officers” she said. “I am happy to help in any way that I can.”

  Her stay at the hotel was justified when her husband explained that they had chosen the hotel because it catered for people like them.

  “When you're having your kitchen remodeled” he said, “there isn't much point in being at home.”

  Apparently both of them had been staying at the hotel and upon checking later with the hotel, this proved to be the case. Isherwood looked around at the opulence of the place. It was almost immoral for one family to own so much. However, he thanked his hosts and left.

  That left one KB who was available. Kelly Barnes lived in a less opulent area. In fact, compared with the superstar addresses of the other KB women, her apartment looked positively sparse. She was welcoming and told the officers that she had stayed in the hotel for the night because it was her wedding anniversary. They did very good meals there, and she had eaten in the restaurant with her husband.

  It seemed that no matter which way the inquiries headed, they all led back to the same place, one of frustration. There was nothing hidden, nothing at all to use for clues and this wasn't helping. Isherwood rang in to the bureau and asked for the phone numbers of the other celebrities. He didn't care if he could see them. He just wanted to talk to them.

  Speaking to them brought nothing. There was logical reasons why they had stayed at the hotel and each had reasons to be there which needed no further explanation. It was almost like hitting his head against a wall. They returned empty handed to the squad room and waited for the first responses from the newspaper and the TV. Someone had to know something. Someone had to have seen the guy and it was almost certain that whoever stayed in that room with Ian Bradshaw knew the whole story that was currently eluding them.

  When the phone did go, there were several prank calls, people seeking attention. Charley had warned Isherwood that would be the case. However, the latest call passed to Isherwood did seem very concerned.

  “I saw the news on the TV about Ian Bradshaw.” a female voice said.

  “Yes, and can you give me any information ?” asked Isherwood.

  “He wasn't murdered.” she said, “he died of natural causes.”

  He held onto the line, to see if a trace could be put on it, though it was unlikely at short notice. That's what you see on television, though rarely what happens in the real police world.

  “Tell me more.” he implored.

  “He died of a heart attack. He wasn't murdered.”

  Isherwood listened. He could hear something distinctive in the background and wasn't sure what it was. He tried to hold her attention a little longer, so that he could distinguish the sound, a sound he himself had heard since being here. It was as if she was telephoning from a public place, and then he remembered where. “Can I meet you?” he asked. With that the phone went dead, but at least he knew where to start looking.

  Chapter 6 – Honing in on a Culprit

  “Guilt has very quick ears to an accusation.”

  Henry Fielding

  It was an instinct that drove Isherwood toward the marketplace. He knew the sounds. He had experienced them himself. He could even hone in on the area of the market, since the noise of birds was quite distinctive. It hadn't been a cell phone. It had been a pay call box and all he had to do was locate it and the caller.

  “How will you find the caller in a huge space like that?” asked Robert.

  “I have ways.” he replied, knowing that he had seen the cameras above the marketplace when he had visited. If the woman was no longer there, they would be able to find her through the footage on the video tapes. That was a huge leap forward in the investigation.

  Robert watched as Isherwood went into the corner shop. He knew where the cameras were located. He knew who ran them and, as there had been no one near the phone box upon their arrival, he knew that the videos were his best bet.

  “Can you run the last ten minutes please.” he asked the guy behind the counter, identifying himself as a detective.

  As the film ran, he could see her quite clearly. She was a beautiful woman and even Robert commented upon her looks. They watched as she left the phone, and watched the direction in which she was walking. She would be moments away and they had to break through the crowd to find her. She was the answer to their puzzle and Isherwood was determined not to let her get away.

  As they pushed their way through the crowds, running every inch of the way, they saw her. Her clothes were brightly colored and it would have been hard to miss her. As they approached, they slowed down to a cautionary rate. Then upon reaching her, stopped her in her tracks.

  “My name is Detective Isherwood, and I need you to help me with my inquiries.” he said, as they led her back to the squad car. She didn't put up much resistance, though did ask if she could make one phone call to the babysitter who was expecting her to be back. Making this call, Isherwood could see that the woman was a caring person, though there was a side to her personality which was covert. It was like looking at two people at one time. One side of her made him think of happy families, while the other side held dark secrets. It was time to find out what the secrets were and to decide upon whether she was guilty of killing Ian Bradshaw.

  As they accompanied her into the interview room, Isherwood offered her a coffee.

  “I sure would appreciate it.” she said, and he arrived minutes later with fresh coffee and donuts worth seducing someone for, not that he expected or wanted this kind of attention. It just seemed right at the time.

  “When you telephoned, you said Ian Bradshaw wasn't murdered.” he said.

  “He wasn't, but I can't tell you much more than that.” she said.

  Robert called Isherwood outside.

  “Look at her arms, they are all bruised, must have been when she dragged the body.” he assumed. Isherwood went back into the interview room.

  “Let's start at the beginning.” said Isherwood. “What is your name?”

  “My name is Kim Bell.” she said. At last, they had found KB. Isherwood made himself comfortable. “I understand that you want to get away to collect your child, but until you have answered our questions satisfactorily, I can't let you go.” he said.

  “Am I under arrest?” she asked.

  “No, not at this time, but we have grounds to suspect you of murdering Ian Bradshaw.”

  Her eyes clouded. Isherwood wasn't expecting that. “Why would I kill him?” she said.

  “I love him. I told you he didn't die from being murdered.” she repeated. “He died while he was making love to me.”

  “Then how did he get into the laundry chute?”

  She cried at the thought. These tears had been building up within her for the last day. She had made love to the man and he had died of a heart attack she was left with his body lying inanimate next to hers. “I left him in the bed. I had to get away. I had no choice.”

  “Do you need to hold me much longer?” asked Kim. Isherwood looked across the desk. He felt a kind of pity for this woman of so many characters, wrapped up in one. It appeared that she was going to leave her husband and had met Ian Bradshaw some time ago. They had actually fallen head over heels in love. In the hotel, she knew no more than the fact that he had died during lovemaking and that she had gathered all the pieces together that were hers and had left. She was too afraid of being found there.

  “Can you explain the bruises on your arms?” Isherwood asked.

  She stood and held her shirt away from her skin. “Want to see what real bruises are?” she asked. “Want to see what I am subjected to every day of my life?” she asked. By this time the frustration within her was surfacing. She was afraid of arriving home late. She was afraid of the suffering that would follow.

  Isherwood saw the bruises, the scars and the redness of this poor girl's skin. She had good reason to be
afraid, and he didn't blame her or judge her for finding solace in the arms of another man.

  Chapter 7 – Death of a Dead Man

  “The jealous are troublesome to others, but a torment to themselves.”

  William Penn

  “Do you need to hold me much longer?” asked Kim. Isherwood looked across the desk. He felt a kind of pity for this woman of so many characters, wrapped up in one. It appeared that she was going to leave her husband and had met Ian Bradshaw some time ago. They had actually fallen head over heels in love. In the hotel, she knew no more than the fact that he had died during lovemaking and that she had gathered her clothing and had left. She was too afraid of being found there. Her husband was a violent man and it had been hard to sneak away in the first place. Now, all they needed was to watch the footage of the hotel videos from the time that she left in order to find whoever killed Ian Bradshaw.

  “Do you have a photograph of your husband?” asked Isherwood.

  “Yes.” she said, handing him the photo. It was a pretty poor photograph, but one that showed his face clearly. This would help.

 

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