Till Death - Mark Kane Mysteries - Book Four: A Private Investigator Crime Series of Murder, Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Stories...with a dash of Romance. A Murder, Mystery & Suspense Thriller

by John Hemmings

  “I reckon my first guess is most likely. I think there may be something in Lisa’s past that’s come back to haunt her. Maybe the guy’s got something on her. If you think about it that’s what makes the most sense. After all, it’s pretty unusual not to want to tell your husband anything about your past; and it’s pretty unusual not to confide in him if she has a problem of some sort, especially given the apparent closeness of their relationship.”

  “So do you think the creep may be putting the squeeze on her or something?” Lucy said.

  “Maybe, but it’s important to keep an open mind. We may be barking up the wrong tree entirely.”

  “I wonder what it could be about.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t have to go to Minnesota to find out,” I said.

  I helped Lucy bring the food into the living room and we sat at the dining table to eat.

  “At least I’ve managed to sort out the mess that you created in the office,” I said. “It was getting to be a real headache.”

  “A satisfactory solution made possible only by my exceptional powers of organization,” Lucy said.

  “The police should make suspected inebriates say a sentence like that,” I said.

  “Apparently in England the police make DUI suspects say: ‘the Leith police dismisseth us’,” Lucy said. Her head was full of random information like that, or maybe she was making it up.

  “I didn’t see any sign of Eric’s niece there today. Is she still in the hospital?”

  “No, she’s fine now. Her name’s Daphne by the way. I could hardly invite her to come to the office when it was full of people – she’d have flipped out.”

  “Well it’s not our problem anymore. I can’t say I shall miss the place,” I said.

  “It’s hard to miss a place that you hardly ever went to,” Lucy said.

  “That’s true. And I shan’t miss the camaraderie of my former colleagues either. They were a curious assortment of individuals. They didn’t even give me a going away gift.”

  “So now we’re office-less − for the time being,” Lucy said.

  “Well, you always wanted to work from home. Anyway it looks as if the new place will be ready ahead of schedule.”

  “And we won’t have to share it with a soul,” Lucy said happily.

  “Here’s to your first real day’s work as an assistant investigator,” I said, raising what was left of my beer. Lucy lifted her glass of tomato juice in response.

  “Don’t forget I was your temporary assistant when we were in the Philippines,” Lucy said.

  “And you got rather well remunerated for it in the end,” I said.

  Lucy put her elbows on the table, making a cradle of the back of her hands and resting her chin on it.

  “We haven’t discussed my salary yet,” she said.

  “No,” I said, “we haven’t.”

  Chapter Eight

  Another Headache

  We heard nothing from Don the following day, but on Wednesday morning he phoned me.

  “I’ve a feeling she’s getting ready to meet someone again today. She’s been very much on edge and rather touchy,” he said.

  Since he wasn’t sure whether she would be going out or not, he agreed with my proposal that we’d wait near the café in South Boston. We’d have the laptop and could make adjustments to our location if necessary.

  “If she goes out we’ll watch her carefully and I’ll call you at the gym and let you know.”

  “No, um, there’s no signal in the basement for cell phones.”

  “Can I reach you there on a land-line if necessary?”

  “I’ll let you know. I don’t remember the number there off-hand.”

  We arrived at the location of the café at eleven thirty. During the next half hour or so we managed to find a parking space near enough to see inside without venturing into the cold. I sat with the laptop in front of me waiting for it to show some sign of life. Finally, I spotted movement on the laptop. She was heading our way. I watched until she crossed the Congress Street Bridge.

  “She’s on her way here,” I told Lucy.

  We watched and waited. Then, walking towards us, we saw the man from apartment 3D; ‘the creep’ as Lucy had christened him. But he wasn’t alone; he was with a woman of a similar age, or perhaps a little older, with blond hair tucked under a red woolen tuque. The pair of them went into the café, the entrance of which was less than fifteen feet from where the Chevy was parked. The creep and his companion sat in a booth by the window. From our vantage point we could see them both. They sat next to each other, facing towards us. The woman removed the tuque. She was a bottle blonde, and a bad one at that. I asked Lucy to go inside and try to get a better look at them. There was an empty table to the side and at a slight angle to the booth.

  “Go inside and order a coffee and try to get a good look at both of them. Look for any distinguishing marks or characteristics which might help to describe or identify them later. It’s just a little too far to see clearly. If Lisa joins them shortly you may be close enough to hear some of the conversation,” I said. “I’ll wait here.”

  “You don’t think Lisa will recognize me from Monday, do you?” Lucy said.

  “I shouldn’t think she even noticed you – her attention would’ve been on the creep. In any case, even if she does recognize you she’ll just assume you’re a local. I can’t imagine anyone coming far to eat in a place like that.”

  Lucy went in and sat down. The waitress approached and Lucy spoke to her.

  I sat in the car waiting for Lisa’s car to show up. After a few minutes I looked at the laptop again. Lisa’s car was stationary on West Broadway. I assumed she was in traffic or at a stop light. After a few minutes it was apparent that the car wasn’t moving. It seemed to have been parked there. The distance from where I sat was not that far – about four blocks to the north and two to the west − so I assumed that for some reason she had decided to park and walk from there. I calculated how long it should take for her to reach the café. No more than ten minutes, I thought, maybe less.

  Lucy had received her coffee and was nonchalantly looking towards the window, directly at the creep and his companion, but not obviously so. The two of them didn’t appear to be saying much. Then the creep apparently received a call on his cell phone. He got up from the booth and walked through the café to where the restrooms were situated and I lost sight of him. After about a minute he came back to the booth. He leant over to the woman and said something to her. Then they got up and walked out of the café. I hadn’t seen them ordering anything. They turned right and walked in the direction of the apartment building but after walking a couple of blocks I lost sight of them; there were too many pedestrians and too many vehicles parked by the sidewalk to have a clear view. I looked at the laptop. Lisa’s car was still stationary. I waited while Lucy paid for her coffee and then came out to join me in the Chevy.

  “Looks like she’s chosen a different place to park,” I said. “Maybe they’ve arranged to meet somewhere else. Lisa’s car seems to be parked on West Broadway, a few blocks to the north east of here. I’m going to go take a look. You stay in the car in case they come back here. Keep an eye on the laptop – if Lisa’s car moves then call me immediately.”

  I got out of the car and headed towards West Broadway. Lisa’s car was parked near a branch of the Citizens Bank. It took me seven or eight minutes to find it. Lisa wasn’t inside the vehicle. I looked both ways, up and down the street, but couldn’t spot her. I walked inside the Bank to see if she might be there, but there was no sign of her. I walked back to the Chevy and climbed in.

  “Have you seen her, or any of them?” I asked Lucy.

  “Nobody’s been this way,” she said.

  “We’ve been too complacent − assuming they’d meet in the same place. There must be dozens of places nearby where they could be. I assumed that the creep and his lady friend had gone to his apartment, but they may ha
ve gone to another location to meet Lisa. I started the motor and moved away from the curbside. I drove to the place where Lisa’s car was parked and found a place to park nearby. I looked at our map of the area.

  Taking into account where Lisa’s car was parked and the direction I’d seen the creep and his companion walking I narrowed the search area to eight blocks to the south of West Broadway. This was an area between the place where Lisa’s car was parked and the creep’s apartment building. I doubted they’d be the other side of Dorchester or north of West Broadway. It was still a fairly large area to search and there were a lot of cafes, restaurants and bars where they could be. I suggested Lucy took the blocks east of F Street and I’d take the blocks to the west. If either of us spotted them we’d call, otherwise we’d meet back at the Chevy in about twenty minutes. I wasn’t confident. It was lunchtime and places would be busy. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

  I walked down the street, scanning the blocks to the left and right. There were several small eateries and I peered inside to see if I could spot them. It was slow going – most of the cafes and restaurants were quite full. After thirty minutes or so of fruitless searching I went dejectedly back to the car. Lucy turned up ten minutes later.

  “Sorry, Kane, it took longer than I thought. I had to go inside several of the restaurants to look because they were so full of people. It’s hopeless,” she said.

  “Damn!” I said, thumping the dashboard. “I should’ve been paying closer attention. It was stupid to assume they’d necessarily meet in the same place.”

  “Not really,” said Lucy. “After all that’s where the creep went first. There must’ve been a change of plan.”

  It was more than an hour since Lisa had parked her car. At least it was still there. But maybe that wasn’t such a good sign. I remembered what I’d told Don in the email – that I’d be here to make sure Lisa was safe. What if something had happened to her? I had a change of plan.

  “Lucy I’m going up to the apartment,” I said. “It’s the only logical place we haven’t looked. Maybe they’re there – and if not I’ll try to get inside and take a look around. We may as well try and salvage something from this disaster. I started the engine and drove back to the apartment building. I circled the block a couple of times but couldn’t find a parking space.

  “Lucy, you find a parking space as nearby as possible. I’m going up. We’ll keep in touch by phone. On the off chance that you spot any of them give me a call; especially if you see any of them entering the apartment building – I’m switching my phone to vibrate. If it rings I’ll know it’s you but I may not be able to answer it.”

  I got out and hurried towards the apartment building. The street was practically deserted. In a few minutes I was inside and heading for the stairs. I raced up the stairs two at a time and paused at the top. No-one was in the dimly lit corridor. I walked down to apartment 3D and listened at the door. No sound came from inside. I listened carefully for a couple more minutes. Nothing. I walked back to the stairwell and called Lucy.

  “The apartment seems to be empty. I’m going to try to get inside. It shouldn’t be too difficult – there’s only a simple Yale lock, nothing else.”

  “Be careful,” Lucy said. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just keep your eyes peeled,” I said. “Are you parked yet?”

  “Still looking for a space.”

  I went back to the apartment. I took a pick out of my pocket and pushed it into the lock. I jiggled it around for a minute or two and got lucky. I opened the door and stepped inside. The drapes in the room were drawn although the material was thin and there was still sufficient light to see there was nobody in the sitting room. There were two closed doors on the right-hand side of the room which I guessed were bedrooms, but my attention was drawn to the other side of the room, to my left, where a door was ajar and there was light coming from the gap. And there was water, too; lots of it, seeping under the door and through the gap.

  I walked over and looked inside. It was the bathroom and there was a bathtub in the middle of the room – one of those old-fashioned Victorian-looking stand-alone bathtubs on claw foot legs. There was water in the bathtub, and there was something else in it too. It was the body of a man, his head at the near end of the bathtub just in front of me and his feet at the other. The bathtub was almost full of water. The man’s arms hung limply by his sides; his head and shoulders were out of the water, lying against the sloping back of the tub. I stood behind his head, put my arms under his armpits and tried to lift him out of the tub. And then I felt a salty taste under my tongue, and a feeling of nausea, and everything seemed suddenly far away. I pulled back my arms to try and steady myself by hanging on to the sides of the tub but I couldn’t grip them. As I tried to steady myself my feet slid out from under me and I fell backwards. I had glimpse of the ceiling and then felt a jarring bump as the back of my head hit the floor.

  *

  “Kane!”

  I was lying face down on the bathroom floor. I turned my head towards the voice and winced at a sharp pain at the base of my skull, near the nape of my neck. I managed to roll over. I was soaking wet.

  “Kane, are you okay?”

  I was looking up at Lucy looking down at me. I shook my head to try to clear it; bad idea. The pain stabbed my neck again, or was it my head? – I couldn’t tell.

  “Geez, Lucy,” I said. “How did you get in here?” My head was starting to throb.

  Lucy helped me into a sitting position and gradually, with her help, I was able to stand up. The guy was still in the bathtub. His staring eyes told me something I already knew: he’d made the one-way journey to meet his maker. I’d seen him before. He was in a café down the road talking to Lisa. He wouldn’t be talking to Lisa again. He wouldn’t be talking to anyone again.

  “Lucy, is the front door locked? If it isn’t then lock it. Bolt it if there is one.”

  Lucy went out of the bathroom. She came back in with a half-full bottle of scotch. She handed it to me and I took a gulp.

  “Where the hell did you get that?” I said, smiling at her.

  “It was on the counter by the kitchen. Thank God you’re alright,” she said. “What happened?”

  I felt the back of my head. There was a lump growing, but no blood. It hurt like hell.

  “Somebody slugged me,” I said. “How did you get up here?”

  “I waited for ages after you said you were going to try to get in the apartment. I was worried. I came up to see if you were okay,” she said. “The door was open and I found you on the floor in the bathroom and I splashed some water on your face, but it took a while for you to come out of it.”

  “How long would you say I was out? How long is it since I called you?”

  Lucy looked at her wristwatch. “I guess about twenty minutes,” she said.

  “This investigation is turning into a pantomime,” I said as I found my way to a chair in the living room and sat down. “You recognize the guy in the bath, of course?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I’ve never seen a dead person before.”

  “You want a shot of this?” I said, holding out the bottle of whisky. “It’s real scotch, believe me.”

  “No, I’m okay thanks.”

  Lucy sat down beside me. I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

  “What a mess,” I said.

  “So what happened? Did you see who slugged you?”

  “I broke the first rule in the book, Lucy. I was standing with my back to the bathroom door and concentrating on trying to get the body out of the tub. I should’ve checked the other rooms first.” I motioned to the doors on the other side of the room, one of which was now open.

  “What are we going to do?” she said.

  “Well we can’t stay here. But I want to take a quick look around to see if there’s at least a clue as to who the dead guy is. I’ll have to call it in, of course, but not until we’re s
ome way away. Let’s have a look around – see what we can find.”

  I walked over and closed the bathroom door. Then I found the light switches and turned on the lamps. The room was sparsely and cheaply furnished. There was little in the way of kitchen equipment or utensils. I looked in the two bedrooms. One was unfurnished except for the bed, but there was no bedding or bed linen and nothing in the closet either. The other bedroom – the one with the now-open door, had been used. The bed had been slept in, but there was nothing in the closet there either. The apartment had been used as a temporary home, probably for no more than a few days.

  “Lucy, I want you to search the apartment. Look for anything that may give a clue as to the identity or origins of anyone who’s been here. Anything – even shopping receipts or shopping bags.” I picked up a red plastic bag that had been discarded in the kitchen. “If you find anything you think may be helpful put it in the bag. I’m going to look at our friend in the bathtub.”

  I went into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I stood looking at the corpse, trying to ignore its sightless eyes. I knew he hadn’t been dead long, but how had he died? He was naked; his genitals bobbing obscenely and somewhat comically in the water as I carefully moved the body to search for signs of injury. I assumed he’d drowned – a fairly natural assumption in the circumstances – but he may not have. Perhaps he’d been surprised while taking a bath and either struck, as I had been, or shot or stabbed. The last two possibilities could be quickly dispensed with because there was no blood and no obvious wound. I lifted the head from the back of the tub and looked and felt behind it. The body was flaccid, still flexible. There was no sign of an injury from blunt force trauma.

  I was puzzled. It would take considerable strength to hold the head of a relatively young and fit-looking man under the water long enough to drown. And there was another thing. I could find no marks on the body – not even bruises, abrasions or redness that were testament to a struggle. Yet he would have been fighting for his life. Even if he’d been initially taken by surprise I would’ve expected him to put up quite a fight. I looked at his hands and forearms. There was no sign of defensive wounds – no skin or visible blood under the fingernails, although if there’d been small traces then the water may have obliterated them. I stood back and looked at him. It was too soon for rigor mortis to have set in. He’d been dead for less than an hour and rigor would have been slowed by the water. It would be slower, too because of the relatively low temperature in the room. It was impossible to tell whether the water in the tub had once been warm – too much time had passed. I knew that the onset of rigor is faster if there has been intense physical activity shortly before death, like a struggle with his attacker; but the short time that the body had been in the bath made speculation about that pointless.