Written To Death (Alex Warren Murder Mysteries Book 3)

by Zach Abrams

  “Well, not that I'm aware of, but I only got it second or even third hand.”

  “Where did you hear this?” Alex asked.

  “I'm not sure. It could have been Aaron.”

  With little more added, Scott had served his purpose. It was apparent he had nothing further to contribute for the time being. He was allowed to go home, with instructions not to discuss the happenings of the day.

  The two officers were sitting collating the information received to date when Alex felt the vibration from his phone against his leg. He'd set it to silent before the interview and hadn't corrected it yet. Looking at the screen, he saw his own landline displayed.

  “Hi, Sandra, is everything okay?”

  “Yes, I'm just checking on you to make sure you're alright. It's getting late and you haven't eaten since Barcelona, not unless you've sent out. I've bought in a nice supper for us and a good bottle of plonk. When do you think you'll be back, or should I start without you?”

  “You'd better go ahead. I'll be back in another hour or so. I'll be as quick as I can. Hopefully, you'll still be awake as I'm not into necrophilia, or even somnophilia, for that matter” Alex whispered.

  “I'll see what I can do, but you'd better not leave it too long. There's something I need to discuss with you if we're both not too tired. Oh, and to cap everything off, my holiday's over too. I received a call asking me to come in tomorrow as I've been seconded back to CID because your lot are short staffed. I've to fill in on the Court Investigation because McTaggart's been hospitalised with suspected appendicitis.”

  “McTaggart's a lazy bastard. He's never done calling in sick over some invented disorder or other. As for appendicitis, that sounds a bit too high, he's more of a pain in the arse. Anyhow, what's this Court Investigation?” Alex enquired.

  “Didn't you hear? It's all over the news, an armed holdup at the Sheriff Court. It happened this afternoon,” Sandra explained.

  “I've been too tied up. I've not heard the news. What happened?”

  “The details are fairly scant. But from what I've been able to find out, two men forced their way into the fines office at the Court and made off with all the cash. At least one of them was armed.”

  “Aw, come on, you must be joking. Why would anyone do that? It's not as if they collect very much money and most of what they do take in will be cheques or electronic payments. There can't be too much in readies,” Alex conjectured.

  “I had the same thought,” Sandra answered. “I don't reckon the motive was money. More likely, their aim was to cause embarrassment to the fiscals' office and to us. It was either that or to cause a distraction to take our attention away from something else.”

  “Mmm, an interesting theory. Well, it looks as if we're both going to have our work cut out for us over the coming days, or more.”

  Sandra sighed. “A bit different from sunning it up on the Med or sampling the local vineyards of rural France.”

  “All good things come to an end, but we can look forward to the next time.” Realising he was becoming pensive, Alex decided to get back to work. “I'll go now and I'll try to come home soon.”

  Alex clicked off and noticed Sanjay looking questioningly at him. He explained about the heist at the Court and Sandra being drafted across to work the case.

  “We're pretty much finished here for tonight and I can handle anything else. You've still a few hours of what was meant to be holiday left. Why don't you call it a night? We can pick up where we've left off in the morning,” Sanjay offered.

  Alex didn't need too much persuading and called to arrange for a driver to take him back to Shawlands.

  For the last couple of hours, he had functioned on adrenaline. Now standing waiting in the school's entranceway, exhaustion caught up. But it was a good tiredness. Alex had been doing what he enjoyed most of all.

  The few days break he'd had with Sandra, living in her parent's French holiday home, had been wonderful. Days spent under a clear blue sky; sometimes walking in the fresh mountain air or basking on a Mediterranean beach with sand stretching as far as the eye could see and hardly a soul in sight. Other times pottering at galleries, 'brocantes' or 'vide greniers' seeking out novelties and bargains. There was delicious local produce to sustain them, often hand-picked from their own garden. Their nights were spent snuggled cosily in bed interspersed by episodes of exercising sexual prowess.

  Despite this, Alex was happy to be back doing the job he loved. He was good at it. He knew he was and so did everyone else. He was well respected and liked too, by his subordinates as well as his bosses.

  He was enjoying his life and couldn't remember a better time. They each continued to rent their own flats, but in the months since he and Sandra had come together, they'd lived in one or other property. They shared a bond he'd never experienced with Helen, his ex-wife. Sandra loved police work and was driven in the same way he was, in a way Helen could never understand. Time had moved on and Alex and Helen now had a tolerable working relationship which allowed him to have full access to his two boys.

  After his divorce, money had been tight for a while. There was little left after paying his living costs, making his monthly contribution for child support and keeping up the mortgage payments on the family home. However, his imposed frugality had already started to ease before being helped by sharing his living expenses with Sandra. Her recent promotion to Inspector rank meant they would now be able to afford more luxuries. Were they to take the next step of formally living together, renting only one house, they would be even better off. But somehow, they never got round to making the decision or even discussing the option.

  Alex was very content, his musings considered his long and successful police career. He wasn't too far off having twenty years of service and not many more would give him entitlement to a full pension. If he chose, he could retire and take on a security advisor or consultancy role and then he would be rolling in money. However, to do that would mean giving up the work he loved and any such thought couldn't be contemplated, not at this stage.

  “DCI Warren? The car's over here.” Alex was startled from his deliberations by a fresh-faced, young constable, a tall lanky boy who looked hardly any older than Alex's son.

  He climbed into the passenger seat of the Astra and clipped his belt.

  “Okay, Sir, I'll get you down the road in no time. You've got quite a tan there, are you recently back from holiday? Lots of sun, sea and sex, I trust.”

  Alex prized the good and friendly rapport he had with his staff and other police officers, but he was taken aback by the constable's brashness. When Alex started in the force, superior ranks were always treated with the utmost reverence. Where there was more than one level of difference, a subordinate would never speak unless by invitation and most likely then only to provide information or evidence pertinent to an enquiry. Alex considered how times had changed. The youngsters nowadays were so much more confident and forward.

  He wasn't unhappy to encourage enthusiasm, but neither was he prepared to tolerate any lack of respect. “You're not in the pub now, young man, and you'd do well to remember it.” Alex then barked his address and the rest of the journey passed in silence.

  Chapter 5

  Hearing a key turn in the lock, Sandra jumped to her feet. “You're earlier than I expected, come on in and relax.”

  Sandra helped Alex out of his jacket and ushered him towards the lounge as she diverted to the kitchen. She reappeared a few moments later proffering a large glass of red wine.

  Alex was already stretched across the couch and hauled himself to a more upright sitting position to accept the offering and take a first sip.

  Although as a couple, they'd both been caring and attentive to each other's needs and comforts, Alex detected something unusual about the welcome he'd received.

  “Where's your glass?” he enquired.

  “I'm not quite ready yet. I mentioned on the phone that I'd something to discuss if you're not too tired.”

/>   “I am pretty exhausted, but I'm sure I can cope. Is it about your reassignment to the Court enquiry?”

  “I'm late,” she whispered.

  “It is late, but that's okay. I'm still awake enough.”

  “No, I'm late,” she continued, enunciating the 'I.'

  Alex looked expectantly for a further explanation and then it dawned on him and his face froze.

  “I wasn't certain I'd got my dates right these last few days, so I picked up a pregnancy test at the chemist. I tried it this evening. It showed positive,” she blurted.

  “But how?” he asked.

  “I'm sure you don't need me to explain how,” Sandra replied without any hint of a smile. “As for why the pill didn't work, I can only guess. It could have been when I had a tummy bug. You remember, I was throwing up, on and off, for a couple of days. It's the only thing I can imagine, and the timing would be right.”

  Alex placed his glass on the table, jumped to his feet and enveloped Sandra in a comforting embrace. His heart was racing, delighted at the news, but reticent to show his feelings, fearful of Sandra's intentions.

  “How do you feel about it? What do you want to do?” he asked hesitantly.

  Sandra pulled back from the hug to see Alex's face. “What do you want to do? How do you feel about having another child?” She too was apprehensive, inwardly quaking, terrified he would be unwilling to take on more commitments.

  Alex drew in a deep breath. “I don't know what you want me to say.”

  “The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, you're more than familiar with the routine.” Sandra's words were making light of the subject although her expression lacked any humour.

  Again, Alex paused as if to summon up energy and compose his thoughts. “Whatever we decide, this will be a defining moment for us. Things will never be the same again.”

  Alex saw Sandra's eyes welling. She had a fearful look he'd never seen before. He instinctively reached out and held her hand.

  “I love our life, exactly as it is now and I truly hadn't contemplated us having a child. It's not that I don't want one, but because I understand how driven you are with your career and I hadn't expected you to change. I've always wanted a big family, but Helen wanted to stop after the two boys. Nothing would make me happier than having more children, but it's not only about me. How about you? Do you want to be a mother? You've already shown how great you are with Craig and Andrew when we've looked after them. They both adore you, but they're teenagers, almost adults. How do you feel about looking after a baby? Would you want to do that? I know what you're like and I'd never pictured you as a 'stay at home' mum.”

  Sandra threw her arms around Alex's neck and pulled him into an embrace. She exhaled a flood of air, not having realised she'd literally been holding her breath.

  “Alex, I'm so happy you feel this way. I didn't want to get pregnant and hadn't expected to, but now that I am, I really want to have your child, our child. But there's so much to consider.” Sandra took Alex's hand and placed it on her abdomen. “It's in there, living and growing, a part of you and me, I couldn't countenance a termination.” Her tears were now in full flow. They were tears of joy.

  He leaned over to wipe her cheeks then gently kissed her on the lips. “We'll manage,” he said.

  “What about your boys, how will they take the news?” Sandra asked.

  “Their reaction to the prospect of a new baby brother or sister with them already teenagers might be interesting. We won't know until we tell them,” he replied.

  “Let's take them for a day out this weekend. We can talk to them together and gauge their reaction,” Sandra suggested.

  “Sounds like a good idea. I suppose I'd better give Helen the news too. I'm not too bothered about her opinion, but I'd prefer to keep her sweet. Then there's less chance of her trying to poison the boy's reaction to it,” Alex commented.

  “Humph, I suppose you're right. Just provided I'm not expected to be nice to her. She's never even given me the time of day.”

  “I don't expect you to do anything where Helen's concerned, although I'd prefer to minimise hostilities if possible. But on a more relevant issue, what about work? What do you think you'll want?”

  “As you rightly said, I love what I do and the position I've achieved. I don't want to give it up. I don't believe that I'll need to. I can keep working until the seven-month stage, I reckon. I'll possibly need to move to desk work in the later stages, but that's a long way off. After the baby's born, I'll want to take a period of maternity leave, but then we could employ a nanny or a child-minder and that way I could go back to work.”

  “Would you be okay doing that?” Alex enquired.

  “We don't need to jump to any immediate decisions, but I don't see why not. It's not uncommon and we are in the twenty-first century. Of course I want to be an attentive mum, just as you'll want to be an attentive dad. But there's no more reason for me to give up my career than there is for you to give up yours. Is that a problem for you?”

  “Of course not, I'm only trying to talk it through. I truly believe a large part of the problem with society today is children growing up without parental supervision, or interest, really. You know as well as I do what we deal with each day. But that's not down to whether or not both parents are working. Consider how many little toe-rags we deal with where neither parent has ever worked.

  “In Helen's case, she couldn't wait to give up work when she became pregnant. She had no wish to go back after the boys were born, but that in itself was no recipe for success and we weren't without our problems either.

  “If we're both going to be working, then we'll be able to afford whatever care and support is necessary and we'll still be active parents. If you choose to give up work, then money may be tight, but we'll find a way to manage. Don't think you need to do anything immediately as there's no rush to make any decisions. Let's take things as they come.”

  Sandra's tears were again running and Alex looked on, concerned. “Don't be upset, we'll make this work.”

  “I'm not upset. I didn't expect this to happen. If you'd asked me before how I'd react, I'd probably have been appalled at the thought. But I'm really happy. Maybe it's my hormones or something but that's how I am, for now at least.”

  “Do you want to get married?” he asked sombrely.

  “Is that your idea of a romantic proposal?” she replied.

  “I'm sorry. That was stupid of me. I was being crass. I was thinking the baby should take my name.”

  “The baby will have your name whether we're married or not. It won't make a difference. This is something we've never discussed, but what makes you believe I'd take your name if we did get married?”

  “I didn't think. I just assumed…”

  “There's an awful lot to consider and we can't do it all now. We're both tired and more than a little bit stunned. It would probably be better if we didn't try to dwell on it now. Let's go to bed.”

  “Isn't that how we got into this position?” he quipped.

  * * *

  Hours later, Sandra was rudely awoken by loud grunting noises and Alex was thrashing about in bed. He seemed to be sparring with an invisible demon. It took her a few moments to realise he was sound asleep and literally in the throes of a nightmare. Gently, she roused him, taking care not to be caught by a wayward blow from his flaying arms.

  “Alex, are you okay?”

  Gradually he came to. “Sorry, love, I didn't mean to disturb you. It was really strange. I was fighting with someone, but it was all very vague, I don't know who or what it was about.”

  “Was it a reaction to the news I gave you last night?” Sandra looked dismayed.

  Alex gathered her into his arms. “Oh, don't say that, for God's sake. I'm delighted with the news. It has nothing to do with it. More likely it's with me starting a murder investigation yesterday. I've quite often had nightmares after the first day of a gruesome enquiry. You wouldn't have realised because last night
must be the first one we've spent together immediately after a major case has started. If I'd only thought, I'd have warned you, but I didn't think. I remember Helen talked about it. In the past, I sometimes stayed up all night or slept on the couch to avoid it causing a problem.”

  “Would it help to talk it through?”

  Alex looked at the bedside clock, showing 5.30 am. “No, you go back to sleep. I'll get up and make myself a cuppa.”

  “No, lie here and tell me about the case. It might help you and I might even be able to make suggestions,” Sandra offered.

  “I don't think it right to be lying in our bed talking about violent murders.”

  “In that case, I'll get up too and we can sit together and have tea in the kitchen,” she replied.

  “But it's too early for you. You need to get more sleep. It's likely to be a heavy day ahead.”

  “I'm wide awake now. Let's do it.” Before Alex could protest, she leapt out of bed, threw on her dressing gown, walked through to the kitchen and filled the kettle. “It's cold. I'm going to put the heating on if you don't mind.”

  “You go ahead. I don't know if it's that cold or we've become soft after a few days waking up to the Mediterranean sunshine.”

  “Okay, I'll make the tea while you tell me all about your case.”

  Alex sat down at the kitchen table and systematically ran through all the information and evidence the enquiry had so far amassed.

  “Well, what's your next step?” Sandra asked.

  “There are several,” he replied. “First, I need to catch up on any further information collected after I left. I doubt there'll be much of importance or Sanjay would have called, but I need to check. Obviously, there'll be the technical reports to gather in too, but again I'm not expecting much as we're already certain of how she died. We can always hope forensics will give us more leads though.

  “We've not yet been able to speak to Bert Singer to see if he has any more to tell us. He was sedated after the shock of delivering the fatal wound. He's quite elderly and has a dickey ticker, so we may need to walk on eggshells a bit. I also want to speak to the husband, Graeme Armstrong. Phil's description of his interview sounded a bit odd and I'd like to talk to him myself so I can form my own opinion. A bit of time has passed to let the news sink in. We'll see what difference that makes. The other thing I want to check is this business about a fall out with an American author.”