Whisper For The Reaper by Jack Gatland (best motivational books for students txt) 📗

She reached into the hole with a pair of tweezers, pulling out a folded and damp piece of paper.

‘The police who arrived on scene didn’t know this was a murder. They took it as a suicide, and the CCTV of Wing alone confirmed it. Only when the body was examined at Maidenhead, did they find the card in Wing’s pocket.’

She placed the paper on the green as she reached into her jacket, removing a pair of blue latex gloves and pulling them on.

‘I know that they positioned the body, but the blood from the right wrist cut went straight into the hole, so the hand was over it. The killer, or at least the enabler, would have positioned the body, but likely kept the hand there and missed this.’

The paper was covered in dried blood, dampened by the rain that had entered the hole over the last couple of days. It was folded and only an inch in size.

‘Wing could have held this in his hand,’ Doctor Monroe carefully opened the letter up as she spoke. ‘It took us a good couple of minutes to walk here from the car park. If our mystery man was waiting here, having sent Wing through the front entrance while climbing over the fence, Wing could have written a note, folded it up and held it.’

‘Why not run for help instead?’ Declan crouched beside Doctor Marcos now as she finished opening the paper. It was a sheet of paper, around A5 in size; on one side was scrawled writing, while the other side was a half filled Temple Golf Club score sheet. The paper itself was stained and blooded, the blue ink slightly smudged, but the message on it was still visible, written in capitals.

IF I DON’T DO THIS THE GERMAN WILL KILL MY PARENTS.

‘Not much to go on,’ Declan said.

‘Probably didn’t have time to say anything more,’ Doctor Marcos pulled out a clear plastic evidence bag and carefully placed the sheet into it. ‘He must have found it on the ground in the car park, realised it was his chance. We’ll need to check it for prints.’

‘Poor wee bugger,’ Monroe looked across the fairway as he spoke. ‘No wonder he did this. If I thought that my family would suffer instead, I might do the same thing too.’

Doctor Marcos rose. ‘We’re done here,’ she said, her voice clipped with anger. Declan understood the emotion; he felt the same way too.

‘Back to Maidenhead?’ He asked. Doctor Marcos however shook her head.

‘Not yet,’ she replied. ‘We have a crash scene to look at first.’

Declan felt a cold wind slide down his spine. He hadn’t visited the site where his dad had died since it’d happened.

There was a first time for everything, he supposed.

The Randalls had lived near Erith, in South East London when their son Craig had died, but two years after the event they’d split, the father disappearing abroad with work, and the mother and Ellie moving nearer relatives in Basingstoke. And, six years later, it was at this Basingstoke house that PC De’Geer and DS Anjli Kapoor arrived on a police motorcycle.

‘Not gonna lie, that’s pretty awesome,’ Anjli said as she pulled off the helmet, placing it on the seat. ‘Used to have a Suzuki Marauder when I was a teenager. Only 125cc, but it looked like a Harley.’

‘And sounded like a hairdryer,’ De’Geer grinned as he turned off the bike’s engine, the smile fading as he looked towards the house.

‘I haven’t seen her since Craig died,’ he admitted.

‘Not even to check in on her? Like, later in life?’

‘She knew where I lived, while I only ever knew her caravan,’ De’Geer admitted. ‘She could have looked for me, but never did. Life moves on.’

The door was already opening as they walked towards it; the site of the police motorcycle pulling up outside was enough to spark curiosity from the young woman who now stared at them as they approached her along the path.

‘Ellie Randall?’ Anjli asked. ‘Are you—’

‘That’s Ellie,’ De’Geer said, his voice softening. Ellie Randall stared at Anjli, and then De’Geer… And then her eyes widened.

‘Morten?’ she asked. De’Geer smiled, but it seemed forced to Anjli.

‘Hello, Ellie,’ he said warmly. ‘Can we come in? We need to talk about Craig.’

Ellie sat in an armchair sipping at her tea and staring across at De’Geer as Anjli pulled out her iPhone, turning the voice memo app on and placing it on the table.

‘Do you mind?’ she indicated the recorder. ‘It’s easier than writing notes.’

Ellie shook her head. ‘I don’t know what I can give you though,’ she replied. ‘I told the police everything.’

‘Did Craig have any enemies?’ Anjli started. Ellie nodded.

‘Loads by the end,’ she said. ‘He pissed off pretty much everyone.’

‘What happened here?’ De’Geer asked. ‘Your parents—‘

‘Dad left us about two years after it happened,’ Ellie explained, while sipping at the mug. ‘Mum and me came here. Aunty Bev lives nearby. Mum’s at work right now.’

‘Do you work?’ Anjli asked. Ellie shook her head.

‘Laid off a month back,’ she said. ‘Cutbacks.’

‘Can you tell me in your own words what happened that day?’ Anjli continued. Ellie however shook her head.

‘We try not to think about it.’

‘Please, Ellie,’ De’Geer leaned closer. ‘There’s been another one.’

Ellie’s eyes widened. ‘So he was killed?’ she whispered. Anjli nodded.

‘We believe so,’ she replied. ‘A monster of a man who forced his victims to kill themselves. So anything you can give us would be incredibly helpful.’

Ellie was silent for a moment, and Anjli could see that she was weighing up her options here. Then, nervously, she nodded.

‘We had a fight,’ she started. ‘The camping site had been getting complaints about Craig again. We were one strike from being banned. We’d been going there for years, and dad was right royally pissed about this. I was told later that they fought again, and Craig stormed out with Scamper. He was our dog,’ she explained to Anjli, who nodded.

‘You said you were told later?’

‘I wasn’t there,’ Ellie replied.