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

‘Maybe your dad didn’t kill Wilhelm Müller after all,’ Anjli suggested.

‘Sure, that’s an option, but to force his own son to kill himself?’ Declan was appalled by the thought. ‘I almost hope it was suicide to never have to think of that scenario again.’

In the distance, they could hear the faint sound of police sirens; Maidenhead would have been contacted by De’Geer, and with luck this was a forensic cavalry force being led by Doctor Marcos herself.

‘Did you find out anything at the Dew Drop Inn?’ he asked while they waited. Anjli nodded.

‘Ilse met your dad in the pub,’ she replied. ‘And we think Karl was there too.’

Declan turned and stared at Anjli in surprise. ‘Both of them?’

‘It’s hearsay, so we’re waiting for someone who was there at the time to confirm what we’ve been told,’ she said. ‘Although to be honest, that’s probably going to be pushed aside now.’

There was a commotion at the entrance behind them, and a forensics team, in white PPE uniforms, masks and gloves entered, led by Doctor Marcos.

‘For Christ’s sake, put some bloody protection on,’ she snapped at the two detectives. ‘And stop hanging around the entrance. It’s mawkish.’

Declan led Anjli outside to find that the circus had come to town. There were so many officers securing the scene now that De’Geer looked redundant. Sergeant Sweeney was now Scene of Crime Officer, having more experience than the raw recruit, and Declan was actually grateful to the bald, bearded friend of his dad for that.

‘Grab a suit and follow us,’ Declan ordered and De’Geer, looking to Sweeney nervously before following, picked up a PPE suit, pulling it tightly over his uniform. PPE suits were baggy by design, but this fit his broad frame snugly. Declan had wondered why De’Geer had looked to the sergeant, but then realised that, with Maidenhead police controlling the scene, De’Geer was back to being a minor cog in a far larger machine.

Which was a shame, as De’Geer, when left alone, was a perfectly competent officer.

Now with the white PPE suits over their clothes and shoes, the hoods over their heads and masks over their faces, Declan and his colleagues pulled on extra sets of blue latex gloves before walking back into the crypt.

Forensics move fast, especially when organised; and there was nobody more organised than Doctor Rosanna Marcos. As PC Davey examined the crime scene, Doctor Marcos was already carefully checking the body of Rolfe Müller, while keeping the sanctity of the crime scene secure.

‘Gunshot to the temple, close range,’ she said, her voice monotonous and methodical as she spoke, years of forensic training keeping the emotions out while the salient facts remained. ‘Gunpowder residue looks to be fresh on the hand and going from this I reckon we’ll find his fingerprints on the gun.’

‘Red Reaper?’ Declan knelt beside the body. Doctor Marcos shrugged.

‘Too soon, but I doubt it. The M.O isn’t right. The gun would be missing if it was a traditional Reaper murder.’

‘The gun’s a Makarov,’ Declan muttered as he saw the pistol on the floor. ‘Russian and East German side arm.’ He smiled, before realising that Doctor Marcos wouldn’t see it through the mask. ‘Saw a couple of these while I was SIS.’

There’s a serial number on the base,’ Davey said as she took a close-up photo. ‘I’ll send it to Billy, see if he—‘

‘Send it direct to Maidenhead,’ Declan suggested. ‘Billy’s on babysitting duty right now. Karl and Ilse.’

Davey nodded and walked off, already texting. Declan stared down at the body once more.

‘Never struck me as a suicide type,’ he muttered.

‘They never do,’ Doctor Marcos was now, with the help of another CSI officer, carefully going through Rolfe’s pocket with a pair of long tweezers. Slowly, and with great care, she pulled a coin from his pocket.

‘An East German Mark,’ she said as she turned it around. ‘Pre 1990.’

‘Before the wall fell,’ De’Geer replied, passing a clear plastic bag for the coin to be passed into. ‘I wonder if this was the coin that Nathanial Wing gave him, that we saw on the CCTV?

‘God, I hope not,’ Anjli muttered. ‘Then we have to work out where he got it from and that’s a whole new can of worms.’

The other CSI officer accepted the now bagged evidence, writing on the bag with a marker pen before placing it into a blue plastic box.

‘Wait,’ Doctor Marcos started pulling a second item out of the pocket, and as it emerged, Declan saw the familiar card of the Red Reaper.

But it wasn’t one card. It was a handful of cards, at least a dozen, and all identical.

‘Christ,’ Doctor Marcos muttered. ‘I think we found the last of the supply.’

Declan stared at the cards as they too were bagged and tagged. How did Rolfe have them, and why were they on him right now? Had he intended to use them?

‘I’ve got paper,’ the other officer said, pulling a folded piece of notepaper out of Rolfe’s jacket pocket. Doctor Marcos gingerly accepted it, opening it up with the careful application of two sets of tweezers. It was a sheet, approximately A5 in size and made up of lined notepaper, as if pulled out of a journal. On it, in what looked to be Rolfe’s handwriting, was a message, written in English.

I failed.

I wanted to honour my father, but I’m not the man he was. I tried to follow his teachings, but I couldn’t do what needed to be done.

I found his gun, cards and coin after my mother died, and knew then the truth of Wilhelm Müller, that he was the Ampelmännchen Killer, or as you call him the Red Reaper. But I’ve also had the urges, the need to kill. I killed Nathanial Wing, to see if I could. When I realised it was easy for me, I knew I shouldn’t do it again. But I had to, and I tried to strangle Karl Meier, who you know as Karl Schnitter. He had an affair