alex-warren-murder-mysteries-a-tartan-noir-crime-mystery-series-set-in-glasgow

Tartan Noir Crime Mystery Novel Series Set In Glasgow

Alex Warren Murder Mysteries by Zach Abrams

Series Excerpt

Once they were back out in the car, Alex and Sandra compared notes.

“The moment she told us about Scott visiting twice every Monday and at no other times, I knew there was something fishy,” Sandra said. “I think he must have come by in the morning, collected the key to lock away money or photos or something and then come back to replace the key in the afternoon.”

“Yes, I think you're absolutely right. Now what we need to do is find out where the key fits.”

“Perhaps it's a safe or it could be for premises or for a safe deposit box. It will be tricky finding out what it's for and where it is,” Sandra continued.

“No, it's better than that,” Alex corrected. “I recognise the type. It's used for bank safe deposit boxes, but only of a certain sort. Often there are two keys required to open a box. Nearly all banks now keep both keys for the boxes in a tamper proof container and you have to prove your identity every time you access the box. There's only a few left with a system where the owner keeps one key and has free access. That ought to make it easier to trace.”

Alex started the car. “Let's get back and see whether there's been any other developments,” and with that he guided the car back through the gateway.

Before long they had collected McAvoy, the box of photos, the ME's report and the newly arrived scene of crime documentation and were on their way to their office in the regional police headquarters.

Before starting with the photos, they pored over the reports, first making copies so each could work with their own version.

Alex read the detailed ME report but found little more than Sandra had already précised for him. The two reports from scene of crime were more illuminating.

Not surprisingly, there was an abundance of prints found in the shop. These were being catalogued and checked against a database to see what links could be made to known felons who had been working with Stevenson. The office of the shop only yielded prints from Stevenson and Findlay. Some surfaces and the floor had been freshly washed down with disinfectant and there were no fibre traces or DNA. There were a number of smudge marks that seemed to have been made by a gloved hand, probably from rubber gloves. The security system had worked by three separate CCTV cameras sending their signals to an old-style VHS video recorder but with a secondary signal being captured on a tower-style computer. There was no videotape in the machine although there were tapes in boxes labelled for each day of the week lying next to it. Thursday's box was empty and the tape was nowhere to be found, so the murderer had undoubtedly removed it. The computer had also been tampered with. A program had been run to delete all current files and format all disks but, not content with that, the machine had been opened and the hard disk removed. There was no sign of the back door being used and there were no footprints outside. The front door had not been tampered with and there were no signs of blood on or near it. It was fitted with a Yale barrel-style lock which had only to be pulled shut from the outside. There was a lot of blood spilled and spread on and around the body. There were some bloody footprints in the close vicinity but nowhere else. One or two tread-marks were distinguishable and it was consistent with a size eleven of a particular style of Clark's brogue, so quite large feet, but the shoes were fairly commonplace and not easily traceable.

“Doesn't this strike you as odd?” Sandra asked. “The murder shows all the signs of being an act of anger, impromptu, nothing premeditated, yet the murderer obviously knew how to cover up, and he found what he needed to do it or he had it with him. He must have known a fair bit about police procedures and not just the sort of thing you'd pick up from watching CSI. He knew his way round a computer. He had or found the tools to open it up. He had or found gloves and disinfectant. Bloody footprints discovered only close to the body suggest he took his shoes off, probably before entering the office, and that was cleaned to avoid leaving traces. Why on earth would he do that? The guy's most likely been covered in blood and not wearing shoes, he's been carrying the shoes, the tape and bits of computer then walked out the front door trying not to be noticed. I can see that if his shoes were bloody, he'd have not wanted to leave footprints at or near the entrance, but I don't follow why there aren't any other signs and, if he's covered in blood anyway, why bother? Once he's already out the shop without being noticed it would hardly matter if the footprints were seen. The only risk would be the body might be found a bit sooner.”

“Good work, Sandra,” Alex said before continuing. “It's not a busy street but he must have had a car and been parked close. He couldn't have been walking about in Great Western Road or he'd surely have been spotted.”

“Maybe he found a change of clothes in the shop, or he had one in the car,” McAvoy added.

“That's a possibility,” Sandra continued. “If his car was right outside the front door, he might have risked going out in his stocking soles to get the tools he needed and the change of clothes. He's probably used a bag or something to carry everything in.”

“Too late now to check for footprints at the entrance as there's been far too many people in and out, but we can concentrate questions on anyone seeing a car parked at or close to the door around that time,” McAvoy speculated.

“Worth trying, pass it along to the team,” Alex instructed. “Now, what about the house?”

“Similar story,” Sandra began. “It was expertly taken apart by someone who knew what he was looking for. No prints, just glove smudges. The alarm system, such as it was, was deactivated first and the phone lines were cut as well. He was taking a bit of a risk there because a more sophisticated alarm system would have triggered at the point the phone-line was cut. He must have been in the house for quite a long time, so it was odd for him to take that sort of risk, unless he knew…?”

“You could be on to something there. But how could he know? He'd need to either be familiar with the house or have something to do with the alarm company or the police.” Alex's words were followed by a long pause as they each digested the possibilities.

“There's more if you read on,” McAvoy added. “Stevenson had an internal system. He had webcams set up around the house recording onto his computer; they were all movement activated so they ought to have caught the intruder. The computer also had a regular online backup set up. So there would have been a safe recording of anyone moving about in the house. The only problem was the phone line being cut so the backup was never transmitted and, same as the shop, the hard disk's been removed from the computer. This can't be coincidence. The murderer couldn't have been that lucky. He must have known what he was doing cutting the phone line to stop the backup.”

“So what you're saying is the murderer knew exactly the system that Stevenson had before he entered the house. How does that fit in with the way the murder was done?” Alex asked.

“I don't know. I haven't a bloody clue.”

“There's far too much that doesn't make sense, but at least we're making some headway.”

Alex paused for thought. The webcam security must be a fairly recent addition. He was sure it couldn't have been there the night he'd gone to visit Stevenson. He remembered that night as if it was yesterday. In the lead up to it, and by stark contrast to her previous berating about his commitment to his job, Helen had nagged and nagged him to do something to get back her aunt's precious belongings. He'd remembered the stinging accusations querying what point was there in being married to a workaholic senior police officer when he couldn't protect his own family. Their relationship had been struggling for some time and he'd convinced himself he'd work to save it. Against his better judgement, he'd researched where Stevenson lived and 'paid him a little visit' in the early hours of the morning. He remembered Stevenson answered his door wearing his striped pyjamas and Alex had been amused thinking he resembled a cartoon impression of a convict. But that was where the humour ended. He assertively invited himself into the house and suggested Stevenson might want to do the right thing. When his request had been met with derision, Alex, for the only time in his career, used his fists to add persuasion. He'd come away from Stevenson with what he'd come for together with bruised knuckles and a deep sense of remorse. Alex was certain Stevenson could not have had his video surveillance at that time. If he had, it would be inconceivable Stevenson wouldn't have used it and he'd have been one of Stevenson's blackmail targets. Most probably, the system had been installed as a result of his visit.

When Alex returned home with his booty, Helen had been waiting for him. She'd stayed up through the night watching television and there were only the dregs left in a bottle of Pinot Grigio which was sitting on the table. She'd been dressed in a skimpy nightdress and negligee. When he opened the door and let himself into the lounge, she'd seemed so happy to see him back and asked for the details of what had happened. When she realised he'd recovered the valuables, she'd walked over to him and touched his face. She'd caressed his swollen fingers, literally licking his wounds, then passionately she embraced him. He could taste the sweet wine on her lips and thought he also detected something stronger, vodka perhaps. She took a half step back to give her space to strip off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor. She then undid his belt and pulled down his zip, sliding his trousers over his hips to fall around his ankles. She lifted his hands, holding them against her breasts, and then kissed him deeply again. Fired by the adrenaline and the excitement of the evening, Alex was powerless to resist. They had sex there and then on the lounge floor, urgent and frantic. Alex couldn't think of it as making love; it wasn't, it was pure animal behaviour. They'd been lost in the moment, oblivious to anyone or anything else. Their passionate cries could have disturbed the boys. They might have come in to see what had been going on and Alex and Helen would never have known. Afterwards they hadn't spoken. In the morning, Alex had gone to work early and Helen had gone to bed.

Alex had felt dirty. At Stevenson's house, he'd acted totally out of character, behaving like a thug, not a law enforcement officer, all to satisfy Helen's demands. He'd compromised his values because she'd pushed him to do it and then 'rewarded' him on his return in the most basic of ways. He'd felt really bad about it afterwards and it was the final straw in their already overstrained relationship. It wasn't that he had any sympathy for Stevenson. Quite the reverse, he detested the man. Alex's and Helen's relationship had never recovered. They could hardly talk to each other and they'd never been intimate since that night. They'd grown further apart and a little over a year ago, they'd separated and filed for divorce.

His mind returned to the present.

“Now, Sandra, what else do we have?”

“First they tried to open the safe in the shop and found they couldn't. They've still not been able to and have sent off to get a special key. But they did pick the lock on the cash box. Inside was about fifty quid in notes and cash and there was also a set of keys, two Yales and a Mortice, and another little key, the sort you see used in a strong padlock. The keys looked like they could be house keys but they're not for Stevenson's home. We're making some enquiries but so far, we have no idea where they're for. Not a lot more than that. Whomever we're up against seems to be really smart. He seems to know what we're going to be looking for and how, and he's taken steps to stop us getting anything valuable. There was one other thing in Connor's report. Although the electronic devices were all smashed up, there was a DVD disk still in the DVD recorder. It was a porn disk, pretty hard core and not the sort of thing you would buy at HMV. It probably had to be bought over the internet and it's got nothing to do with our case, but the guy didn't think to check the player and remove it. It could have contained anything.”

“Well, that's reassuring. It shows us he's not infallible. Right, let's move on. Sandra, I want you to assign someone to track down where the safe deposit key came from. Donny, I want you to number each of these photos and then scan them onto the computer; that way we can all access them at the same time. I'll put together a database, and once I've done that, I want each of us to categorise every picture so we can batch them according to who's in it and what's been going on. We can pick out all the ones with the same whore and - or the same punter. We can pick out all the straight, gay, bondage or role-plays. I want us to know who and what we're dealing with. Afterwards, the next step is to put names to the faces.”

“Faces?” Sandra enquired, repeating her earlier quip.

“Well, we've certainly got a few pretty unique features to focus on, but we're going to have to keep straight-faced and just work through this like any other job.”

Alex and Sandra looked at each other, and when their eyes met, they both roared with laughter. Donny McAvoy looked from one to the other, not seeing the humour, but he was too embarrassed to admit his lack of understanding.

“So who'll be doing what?” Sandra enquired.

“Let's all take turns,” Donny suggested. “I'll start picking out the whores. You can seek out the punters,” he said, looking at Sandra, “and the Boss can allocate them based on what they've been doing. Then after an hour or so we can switch round to have some variety.”

“Not a bad idea, Donny, but I reckon it would be better if we each stuck with the same task throughout. That way we'll become more familiar looking for the same thing. I'll go with the allocation you've suggested. Where there appears to be a set of photos from the same meeting, if I can call it that, put them all into the same category. Now if there's no other questions then let's get started. You can ask me anything else as we go along.”

Once the photos were scanned, they all worked their way through them and were careful and diligent in their analysis. After an hour they broke for coffee, then did the same after a further hour.

Plenty of quips passed amongst them which helped break the tension.

Donny started it by asking, “Have you two had a look at number twenty-two yet? I didn't know that was possible.”

Sandra replied, “I think you've got your numbering wrong, sixty-nine should never be like that.”

Alex also contributed, “Look at one hundred and seventy-three. Why on earth would a good looking girl like that be with such a wrinkled old prune?”

“Money,” came the reply from Sandra and Donny in perfect unison.

Their work was interrupted shortly before five pm. A call came in to inform Alex of some good news: the key had been traced. The description was consistent with ones used by the Canadian International Bank who had offices in Bath Street, just to the west of the city centre. In addition, the number engraved on the key was within one of the sequences used by the bank. There weren't many banks which still used the old-style keys with single microchip implants, but some customers preferred the less complicated style; particularly as they still kept their own keys and didn't have to reveal their identity whenever they wanted access. Unfortunately, the bank was already closed to the public for the weekend and no member of staff with sufficient seniority was available to help. The manager had been in London all week for a conference and wasn't due back in Glasgow until Sunday night and the senior clerk had already left for the evening and couldn't be traced. An appointment was made for early on Monday morning and the bank confirmed the manager would make himself available to provide any help they needed that he was permitted to give. Alex noted the condition, and just to play it safe, he put in a request for a search warrant, giving him unrestricted access to the box. It was probably unnecessary but Alex wanted to ensure against any failure to cooperate or the bank manager being pedantic about paperwork. He also wanted to guard against the possibility of a smart solicitor destabilising any future case claiming information had been acquired by improper means. Being the weekend, it could take time to obtain authority and it could well be Monday before they were ready to roll. So although the senior bank staff were not available, they hadn't really lost any time. They continued with their task for a couple of more hours. By seven-fifteen, they had finished the three lists and the database was complete and populated. The table was covered in used Styrofoam cups from the regular caffeine top-ups they'd collected from the vending machine. The buttons they'd pressed had said coffee, but as experienced detectives, they had their suspicions. They were all shattered, none of them wanting to see another naked photograph for a very long time.

As a DCI, Alex didn't have to work the shift patterns required of the more junior officers, but he nevertheless worked whenever required. On this particular weekend, he'd been scheduled to take time off and he'd planned to have his sons stay with him. He'd planned a whole itinerary to keep them occupied and entertained. He was meant to pick them up from Helen at seven-thirty and keep them until Sunday night. With him only being allocated the case yesterday, it was still at a crucial stage and he wanted to stay in control of it. He was in a dilemma as he loved his boys and treasured the time he was allowed to spend with them. Against this, he needed to be giving his attention to the case. Alex was all too aware that it was his dedication to his job which sowed the seeds resulting in his marriage break up in the first place. Helen couldn't tolerate the erratic hours, the phone calls in the middle of the night and the cancelled or ruined holidays. Their relationship had been breaking down for some time before the Stevenson incident, and after it they could hardly speak to one another. It wasn't long before Helen brought someone else into her life, someone who could give her the attention she wanted. At first, Alex had been angry, wanting to kill them both for their disloyalty and deception. The divorce had not been pleasant and Helen had been awarded custody with Alex having regular visitation rights, with Craig and Andrew permitted to stay with him one weekend a month. They then settled into a relationship where they tolerated each other's needs for the sake of the boys. Over time, Alex had come to realise how difficult it had been for Helen and how he had most certainly driven her away by prioritising his work. The anger was out of their fight and they tried to cooperate, verging on being amicable, to minimise the complications for the boys. This weekend was for him, Craig and Andrew. He couldn't let that go. But by compromise, Alex accepted he would have to carry his mobile everywhere with him and call in periodically.