Written To Death (Alex Warren Murder Mysteries Book 3)

by Zach Abrams

  Written To Death

  Alex Warren Murder Mysteries Book III

  Zach Abrams

  Copyright (C) 2016 Zach Abrams

  Layout design and Copyright (C) 2016 by Creativia

  Published 2016 by Creativia (http://www.creativia.org)

  Cover art by

  http://www.thecovercollection.com/

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

  Contact the author via zachabrams@authorway.net

  or visit http://zachabrams.wix.com/zach-abrams

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Also by Zach Abrams

  An introduction to Ring Fenced - the first few pages

  About the Author

  My thanks and undying love go to my family

  Special thanks go to authors Elly Grant, Brenda Perlin and Carol White for their help and support.

  Chapter 1

  When Sandra and Alex disembarked from the Boeing 737, they had to brave the damp, cold April wind. They hurried across the tarmac before escaping through the doorway then climbed the staircase into the terminal. The welcoming five-tone Nokia jingle from Alex's phone heralded their arrival.

  Sandra playfully punched Alex's shoulder, chiding him, “I thought you enjoyed the holiday. We've been back in Glasgow for twenty seconds and already you've switched your phone on. Can you never relax?”

  “Although it was only a short break, I can honestly say that was the best holiday I've ever had. Sorry, switching the phone on was a reflex reaction. In any event, I need it to contact the mini-cab we booked to say we've landed. Don't you remember? It was much better value than the airport taxis. So, I'm totally innocent. You're off work until Wednesday. Although, I'm back tomorrow, we still have the rest of the day to do what we like.”

  Alex sent the text, but as they took their place in line for passport control, his phone rang. He pressed receive, expecting it to be a call confirming his booking before noticing the caller was Sanjay.

  “Hello, Boss. How was the holiday?”

  “I'm still on it. I've only just landed in Glasgow. Why are you calling?”

  “Sorry, Boss. I didn't realise. Do you want me to call back later?”

  “You've started. I'm guessing it's something important, out with it.”

  “It's a mysterious death. I wouldn't have bothered you normally, but this one's happened in your backyard.”

  The queue shuffled forward and Alex and Sandra were now at the front.

  “You have to switch that off before you step forward. Can't you read?” the immigration officer announced to Alex. He pointed to a large sign stating the use of mobiles was prohibited while passing through the check point.

  In response, Alex opened his wallet, showing his warrant card displaying DCI Alex Warren, and replied, “Police business.”

  “I don't give a stuff,” the border said. “You have no jurisdiction here.”

  “I'll get back to you in a minute, Sanjay. I have a man with a small problem here, or maybe it should be a small man with a problem.” Alex ended the call and placed his phone in his pocket. His towering frame dwarfed the man as he handed his passport to the official. The border guard took his time scanning, then carefully examining it before returning it to Alex with a curt nod and a whispered, “Thank you, Sir. Have a nice day.”

  Stepping past the desk, Alex was approached by one of the airport police who'd recognised him. “I'm sorry about that, Sir. He was within his rights so I couldn't do anything. He's not really a bad lad, but he had his balls chewed the other day by one of his supervisors for being too lax, so perhaps he's overreacting a bit.”

  “No sweat, it'll take more than the likes of him to put me off my stride. Besides, I'm chilled out. I've had nearly a week away from the job.”

  Sandra raised her eyebrows, clearly amused. Although she realised Alex's statement had been meant in earnest, she observed the falseness of his words. As she steered him forward, he fumbled in his pocket to recover his mobile and reconnect to Sanjay.

  “I'm back, now. You were saying something about it being in my backyard and precisely what did you mean by 'mysterious'?”

  “Well, we can't completely rule out an accident but personally I think it most unlikely. The victim was stabbed through the heart,” Sanjay stated. “As for the location, it took place on the stage of the main hall at Eastfarm School.”

  “Oh my God, that's my kids' school. Was it one of the pupils? What age was the victim? How did it happen?” There was a distinct note of panic in Alex's voice, any residual trace of being chilled out after his holiday totally disappeared.

  Sandra stopped walking and instead directed Alex towards a quiet corner of the baggage reclaim area, a deep frown now furrowing her brow.

  “Relax, Boss, it had nothing to do with the kids or the school for that matter, other than the venue,” Sanjay reassured. “The stage had been loaned out to a local community group to rehearse a play.”

  Alex raised his hand to indicate to Sandra not to worry. “Okay, who was the victim? Was he from a local am-dram group?”

  “Not quite, Sir. To start with, he's a she and it wasn't an acting group, it was the local writing group. It's quite bizarre really.”

  “I'm a bit confused here, Sanjay. I want you to go back to the beginning and tell me what's happened.”

  “Yes, sorry, Boss. It is a bit mixed up and it's getting more so the deeper we dig. We were called to the school earlier this afternoon. A woman is dead as a result of being stabbed through the heart. Her name is Sheila Armstrong and she's a member of the Eastfarm Writers' Association. They meet on a regular basis at the Community Centre. Their members are apparently working towards a national competition to produce a one act play. They need to perform it for the competition, so they've been allowed to use the school's stage facilities to rehearse.”

  “Okay, now it's starting to make a bit more sense,” Alex said.

  “Here's the really bizarre bit,” Sanjay added. “The play they were rehearsing was written by Sheila herself. It was a spoof about a stage production where the female lead is a writer and she's stabbed to death, on stage.”

  “You're telling me she designed her own murder?” Alex asked.

  “Well, yes, in a manner of speaking,” Sanjay replied.

  “Listen, you can give me the details later. I take it you'll be there for a while. I'll be out of the airport in a few minutes. Sandra's at the baggage belt looking for our cases as we speak, so I need to go and give her a hand. I should be home within the hour which means I can be with you within two. Who else is there helping you?”

  “Phil, Steve and Mary are alrea
dy here and Donny's on his way. We have a few uniforms as well, keeping order. Scene of crime are already on the job and Duffie's due at any minute. Mind you, I can't see them telling us too much more. We already know how and when she died and we've got the knife. We also have about a dozen eye witnesses, but I suppose we still have to go through the motions.”

  “Don't be so complacent, there's an awful lot more the technicians can tell us than we can hope to learn from witnesses. What's more, the scientific evidence doesn't have a vested interest. It isn't biased the way people are.”

  “Sorry, Boss, you're right of course.”

  “Get everything set up and I'll be with you as soon as I can.”

  As Alex disconnected the call, he spotted an incoming text confirming his taxi booking. It identified the registration number of a grey Skoda Octavia which would be waiting for him at the pick-up point. He rushed over to help Sandra manoeuvre their cases onto a trolley.

  “I guess the holiday's over earlier than planned. What's it all about?” Sandra asked.

  Alex repeated what he'd learned from Sanjay.

  “Do you want me to take the luggage home, then you can take a separate taxi and head straight over to the school?” Sandra offered.

  “No, it's okay. Our plan had been to go back to my flat in Shawlands and it's practically on the way. We can drop you there with the bags and I'll go on to Eastfarm. As soon as I've made sure everything is set up properly, I'll be straight home. It shouldn't take me too long.”

  “Yeah right! With a bit of luck, you might be back before midnight,” Sandra noted.

  “No, but …” Alex paused. He grinned before continuing, “I guess you know me better than I know myself.”

  “Remember, I'm used to working on investigations with you. I've only been out of your team for three months. Even that was just because it made sense for us not to work together when it become public knowledge we were a couple. I've seen what you're like once you've started. You don't know how to stop.”

  Alex gave a leering expression and pulled Sandra into an embrace. “Better get started then. I need to go to work soon,” he whispered.

  Laughing as she spoke, Sandra pushed him away. “Idiot, you know what I was talking about. But come to think about it, couldn't Sanjay look after things for a bit longer?”

  He pecked her on the cheek and clasped Sandra's hand in his. “Okay, you've called my bluff. I did say you knew me too well.” Using his other hand, Alex pushed the trolley through the Customs post and out of the terminal.

  The mini-cab was one of seven waiting at the designated pick-up point in Car Park 2. After identifying themselves by calling, “Taxi for Warren,” they quickly loaded their luggage and jumped in.

  “The booking's for Shawlands isn't it? Been somewhere nice?” the driver enquired, striking up a conversation. “You certainly didn't turn that colour in the U.K. It's been pissing down for the last week.”

  “Good detective work,” Alex joked. “We've just spent a few days in the South of France, although we flew back from Barcelona. The weather was terrific, bright and sunny every day with temperatures in the high twenties and low thirties.”

  “The temperature's not been too different here, although that would be Fahrenheit not Centigrade. So you don't need to rub it in,” the driver continued. “I've another month to go before I have a chance to get away. Even that's only for a lads' weekend in Blackpool. There's not much chance of seeing any daylight, never mind sunshine.”

  “Well, don't ask me for sympathy. Your hardship will be self-imposed. Listen, there's a change of plan. I still want you to take us to my address in Shawlands, but just to drop off my partner and the cases. Then I'd like you to take me to Eastfarm School. Will that be okay?”

  Although they'd been a couple for several months, Sandra still felt a thrill hearing Alex describe them as partners and realising it was no longer in the business sense. Alex and Sandra had worked together for several years. She'd been a Detective Sergeant in his team, sharing a close friendship and risqué banter before their relationship was consummated. Since then they'd been practically inseparable, other than during work hours, with Sandra moving to a different department and collecting her inspector's badge in the process.

  “Yeah, no sweat. But why the change? You're just back from holiday, you said. You must be awfully anxious to get back to work. What's it all about?”

  Alex didn't have an answer. So far, he had only a scant idea about the incident he'd been called to attend. Irrespective, he had no intention of imparting any information about an ongoing investigation. Nevertheless, he felt compelled to give a justification for the late alteration to his booking.

  “No rest for the wicked.” He winked at Sandra and added, “And I've been very wicked.”

  “What is it you do?” the driver persisted, not taking the hint.

  “Whatever I'm called to, I'm a public servant,” Alex answered, with sufficient vagueness.

  “Oh, right,” the driver answered, implying an understanding which he clearly didn't have. “I know the feeling, Mate. In this job, you have to be at everybody's beck and call.”

  Arriving outside Alex's building, he quickly jumped out and lugged their main bag up to the flat. Sandra followed carrying a smaller one plus their hand luggage while the cab waited, its taximeter running.

  Alex lifted his leather jacket from a peg, pecked Sandra on the cheek and added, “I'll try not to be too long. You will stay? That's what we'd planned.”

  “It's not really what we planned,” Sandra replied. “But if I'm going to be sitting alone, I'm as well here as in my own flat. I've had enough travelling for one day. So yes, I'll be here. I think I'll pop across to Morrisons to pick up cold meats and salads then we can snack. I can chill a bottle of Rose so it's ready for when you get back.” She pulled him into a longer and more lingering embrace.

  “Was that to dissuade me from going or to encourage me to come back quickly?” he enquired. Then without waiting for a reply, Alex gave a final squeeze to her shapely rump, before racing down to the waiting vehicle.

  Less than ten minutes later, the cab slowed in front of the school's main entrance. Seeing several police vehicles parked in the vicinity and a throng of people crowding outside the entrance, the driver asked, “Hey, looks like something big has happened here. I don't think you'll be allowed in. Do you want me to take you back, or else I can wait to see how you get on?”

  “No, I'll be absolutely fine,” Alex peeled off a couple of banknotes, settled the bill and exited the vehicle, almost before it had drawn to a halt.

  Chapter 2

  Spotting Alex's approach, a uniformed constable rushed to hold the door open. Out the corner of his eye, Alex saw the cab driver's open-mouthed expression as he pulled away.

  “Where's the action?” Alex enquired loudly, struggling to be heard over the barrage of questions from the mob gathered outside.

  “The body was found on the stage in the assembly hall. Sergeant Guptar was there coordinating everything, the last I heard. I've been left here to try to keep order and stop anyone unauthorised from getting in.”

  “Alex, I'm glad you're here. Can you tell me what's going on? Since your people arrived, we've been kept back and not told anything.” Alex glanced around to see his friend, Brian Phelps, deputy headmaster of the school. Colleagues at university, they'd practically lost touch afterwards, but had re-established contact in recent months. This followed a series of incidents with a delinquent pupil who'd made spurious accusations against one of his teachers. Alex didn't have any formal involvement with that investigation, but he'd been drawn into making unofficial enquiries as his son had been in the same class. Alex and Brian now met infrequently for a drink, taking the opportunity to catch up on old times.

  They shook hands in greeting.

  “There's nothing much I can tell you. I've only just arrived back from holiday. I was in France this morning and Barcelona this afternoon. In fact, my plane landed little more
than an hour ago. What have you learned so far?”

  “I suppose that explains the tan. I've been told very little. I was taking a class when everything kicked off. I heard someone was stabbed in the main hall and none of the pupils or teachers or any of the school staff was involved. The police and the ambulance service were called. All the kids were sent home early to keep them away from the incident and we've been trying to put the word out to cancel the evening classes too. Some parents and the press are camped outside the door, but what can we tell them?”

  “Don't worry, that's not your problem. No doubt, we'll be making a public statement soon. Can you tell me anything about the victim?”

  “Haven't a clue. I know the local writers' club was using the hall, but that's about all.”

  “I've not had an update yet, but I can confirm what you've told me is correct. There's been a stabbing, the incident involves the writers and the victim is dead. But keep it to yourself for the time being; our people will make the announcements.”

  “Which one was it? I've met a number of their group. They get quite involved with the school, judging our essay competitions and providing prizes. It's quite prestigious for them to be involved with the school as a couple of them are published authors. In return, they get the free use of our facilities. It's a 'win - win' scenario, or it was until now.”

  “I'm sorry, Brian, but there's nothing more I can tell you at the moment. We'll get a chance to talk later. I'd better get on.”

  Alex had been at the school many times, so didn't need to be shown the way. He raced along the corridor throwing open fire doors as he went and leaving them to ease shut. Arriving at the main hall, he was far more cautious entering, to ensure nothing would be disrupted. He needn't have worried as the large room itself was almost empty, save for an ambulance crew standing in the corner. All the action was taking place onstage and the unfolding scene was macabre. Alex stepped forward and could make out the heavily bloodstained body of a smartly dressed middle-aged woman lying prostrate on the floor. As far as he could judge, she appeared to be of average height and build, with pale skin and neatly coiffed hair framing a round attractive face. He recognised Doctor Duffie in attendance, examining the corpse. Sergeant Sanjay Guptar was standing behind, notebook in hand, fastidiously recording every detail which came to mind. Sharing the stage were four, white-suited, 'scene of crime' specialists each carefully examining, measuring, sampling and photographing anything which sat still long enough for them to record.