Dead on Demand (A DCI Morton Crime Novel) by Sean Campbell, Daniel Campbell Page A
Book: Dead on Demand (A DCI Morton Crime Novel) by Sean Campbell, Daniel Campbell
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Authors: Sean Campbell, Daniel Campbell
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twelve-month contract, and without his real name it would be difficult to track him via the gym.
***
The relatives hadn't turned up anything. No one admitted to knowing the suspect from the e-fit, and none of the relatives the uniforms saw when interviewing the rape victims met the description. It could be the work of a phenomenal poker face in play, but it seemed that the vigilante angle was a dead end.
A broad canvass of the streets had turned up a witness, but he might be unreliable. When the canvassing officer, Bertram Ayala, met him, the witness reeked of marijuana.
Normally Ayala would have him straight in for possession, but if he could be a lead in the stabbing case then the greater good demanded that Ayala stay his handcuffs – this time.
Ayala paged Morton, who drove straight down to Brixton to interview the potential witness in person. He had with him six e-fits, of which only one was the e-fit of the killer. Morton needed to know whether or not the witness was reliable. He might be called upon to testify, and as a traditional line-up was not possible without the suspect in custody, Morton chose to proceed with an e-fit line-up.
He needn't have worried. The young man identified the correct e-fit at once.
'That's him, blud. Skinny li'l white dude. Big blue eyes. He legged it, like he was in a hurry.'
'Which way did he go?'
'He stopped at the bus stop, didn't he? Heading north towards Liverpool Street.'
All London buses had CCTV installed, so if this was true the man could be tracked further, which might help to ID him.
'You remember anything else?'
'Naw. You gonna spare me an Adam Smith?'
It was a reference to the twenty note printed with the likeness of the famous Scottish economist. Morton was impressed the young man knew who he was. He decided that it was a small price to pay to catch a killer.
'Here. I'll throw in a tip for free. Ditch the weed.'
CHAPTER 18: D ÉJÀ DEATH
The second kill wasn't as easy as the first, and Barry was becoming desperate. The target didn't have any discernible pattern to her movements, and each time he tried to follow her by leaving the gym he had to get his bag from the locker before he could pursue her. By then she was long gone. Clearly the gym-based surveillance wasn't the smartest idea Barry had ever had.
He debated simply knocking on the door and shooting her, but the sound would resonate in the alleyway, and it would be impossible to get away unseen. It was also far too similar to his first hit, and that would get him caught.
He eventually decided to follow her, no gun, and make small talk in the laundrette she used down the street. He needed to get her somewhere quiet before he could take her out, so his aim was to set up a meeting at another time when it would be easier to conceal the gun.
The target seemed pleasant enough, and Barry wondered again what she had done to deserve death. She was shy and retiring, and was slow to come out of her shell. Barry needed an opening to get her talking, and then he could find out where she went when she left the house.
Eventually, he feigned a lack of soap and asked to borrow a cup. She nodded, and gestured at the powder sitting on top of the machine that would be hers for the next hour.
It wasn't much of an opener, and Barry resorted to asking her about the film magazine she was reading half an hour later.
'I don't know why everyone likes that movie,' he ventured when he saw a slight frown on her face while reading.
'I know! It's so predictable. The killer is obvious in the first five minutes.'
'The book was way better anyway. I hate being told what characters look like after I've built them up in my imagination.'
'Me too.' She became animated, and Barry knew he was in.
'I'm Larry,' Barry said, extending his hand. Lying under pressure was not one of his strong points.
'Vanhi.'
'I just moved into the area. Care to show me around?' Barry winked in what he hoped was a salacious manner.
'Err. Sorry, I'm busy.'
***
The relatives hadn't turned up anything. No one admitted to knowing the suspect from the e-fit, and none of the relatives the uniforms saw when interviewing the rape victims met the description. It could be the work of a phenomenal poker face in play, but it seemed that the vigilante angle was a dead end.
A broad canvass of the streets had turned up a witness, but he might be unreliable. When the canvassing officer, Bertram Ayala, met him, the witness reeked of marijuana.
Normally Ayala would have him straight in for possession, but if he could be a lead in the stabbing case then the greater good demanded that Ayala stay his handcuffs – this time.
Ayala paged Morton, who drove straight down to Brixton to interview the potential witness in person. He had with him six e-fits, of which only one was the e-fit of the killer. Morton needed to know whether or not the witness was reliable. He might be called upon to testify, and as a traditional line-up was not possible without the suspect in custody, Morton chose to proceed with an e-fit line-up.
He needn't have worried. The young man identified the correct e-fit at once.
'That's him, blud. Skinny li'l white dude. Big blue eyes. He legged it, like he was in a hurry.'
'Which way did he go?'
'He stopped at the bus stop, didn't he? Heading north towards Liverpool Street.'
All London buses had CCTV installed, so if this was true the man could be tracked further, which might help to ID him.
'You remember anything else?'
'Naw. You gonna spare me an Adam Smith?'
It was a reference to the twenty note printed with the likeness of the famous Scottish economist. Morton was impressed the young man knew who he was. He decided that it was a small price to pay to catch a killer.
'Here. I'll throw in a tip for free. Ditch the weed.'
CHAPTER 18: D ÉJÀ DEATH
The second kill wasn't as easy as the first, and Barry was becoming desperate. The target didn't have any discernible pattern to her movements, and each time he tried to follow her by leaving the gym he had to get his bag from the locker before he could pursue her. By then she was long gone. Clearly the gym-based surveillance wasn't the smartest idea Barry had ever had.
He debated simply knocking on the door and shooting her, but the sound would resonate in the alleyway, and it would be impossible to get away unseen. It was also far too similar to his first hit, and that would get him caught.
He eventually decided to follow her, no gun, and make small talk in the laundrette she used down the street. He needed to get her somewhere quiet before he could take her out, so his aim was to set up a meeting at another time when it would be easier to conceal the gun.
The target seemed pleasant enough, and Barry wondered again what she had done to deserve death. She was shy and retiring, and was slow to come out of her shell. Barry needed an opening to get her talking, and then he could find out where she went when she left the house.
Eventually, he feigned a lack of soap and asked to borrow a cup. She nodded, and gestured at the powder sitting on top of the machine that would be hers for the next hour.
It wasn't much of an opener, and Barry resorted to asking her about the film magazine she was reading half an hour later.
'I don't know why everyone likes that movie,' he ventured when he saw a slight frown on her face while reading.
'I know! It's so predictable. The killer is obvious in the first five minutes.'
'The book was way better anyway. I hate being told what characters look like after I've built them up in my imagination.'
'Me too.' She became animated, and Barry knew he was in.
'I'm Larry,' Barry said, extending his hand. Lying under pressure was not one of his strong points.
'Vanhi.'
'I just moved into the area. Care to show me around?' Barry winked in what he hoped was a salacious manner.
'Err. Sorry, I'm busy.'
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