Knife After Death: A chilling crime thriller

by Irvine, Ian C. P.

They returned together, and then Alex spoke first.

  "Peter Nicolson , I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand? "

  Peter stared at Alex in disbelief.

  A second later he felt a rather firm hand grab him by the arm and guide him out of the tent.

  The nightmare had just got worse.

  Chapter Sixty Two

  .

  .

  The Royal Infirmary

  Edinburgh

  May 3rd

  4 p.m.

  .

  .

  Dr Stephen Jamieson sat at his desk and stared out of the window, deep in thought.

  He had just finished an emergency follow up consultation with a patient who had received a donor heart several months ago. Although he had not conducted the transplant itself, the young man was another patient of SP-X4, the trial of which Dr Jamieson was overseeing. He had therefore given him his personal card with his mobile number on it for direct feedback.

  The young man had rung up this morning, in quite a state of confusion and distress and demanded to see the consultant as soon as possible.

  Dr Jamieson had agreed to allocate his emergency hour to him, a spare slot that he kept several times a week for unexpected emergency sessions that had to be arranged at short notice.

  The young man had come in, broken down and cried for a while, then gathered his emotions together and explained the problem: ever since he had received his donated heart, he had been increasingly experiencing emotions, visions, and even thoughts that he was convinced did not belong to him. He had a strong belief that they belonged to another person...the person who had donated his heart to him and saved his life.

  He swore that his personality was changing, that he was developing kinky sexual desires that he had never had before, that these were beginning to affect his marriage. He was having dreams. Vivid dreams. Dreams that he could not talk to his wife or anyone about.

  It was the same, or at least, a similar pattern of stories that was developing with almost all of the SP-X4 patients: a strong almost miraculous recovery followed by personality change, sometimes also with accompanied anxiety and emotional stress.

  Stephen Jamieson looked at the file that he had begun to pull together on all the SP-X4 treatments.

  There was no arguing with the feedback that he was now receiving. The evidence was now almost incontrovertible: SP-X4 was creating personality change within the patients, with a high-likelihood that the patients were almost universally adopting personality quirks and characteristics that were identifiable as being similar to those of the donors from whom the organs were transplanted.

  The majority of patients who reported these experiences did not report them in a negative way. Only a few patients had complained or sought help to alleviate their symptoms.

  However, as a consultant physician and peer of the medical community, it was his job to help determine what the best treatment for his patients was.

  This created a serious dilemma. Patients of SP-X4 were thriving. The treatment was a success. However, Stephen was becoming convinced that he would have to make a report to the MHRA, recommending that at the very least, all future patients of SP-X4 should be pre-warned of the possibility of personality aberrations as a result of the drug treatment. Of course, at worst, the MHRA may decide to withdraw its licence. Unfortunately, this would lead to the deaths of many people, that the drug could otherwise have saved. Would he then be responsible for their deaths?

  .

  In order to understand more, so that he could make an informed decision and recommendation, Stephen had spent many hours in the past few days doing his own, private research into the area of 'cellular memory'. He had read the cases that were reported en masse several years ago, and he had noted the similarity with the many cases he was seeing now. Almost daily.

  After all his reading, the bottom line was that he felt that he had no choice but to go public, and share his findings with his peers so that an informed, group decision could be made.

  In the meantime, Dr Jamieson felt that from now on, he would have to discuss these symptoms and possible potential risks with his own patients, regardless of what the MHRA decided.

  He felt that he owed them at least that much.

  He looked at his watch. He was taking his wife out to dinner tonight, and he could not be late, but there was still time to send a quick email to nudge StemPharma for more information on the treatment.

  .

  "Dear Mr Grant,

  I hope this email finds you well. I appreciate the time you spent with me recently, and I am looking forward to meeting with yourself and your team in the very near future.

  I have not yet heard back from you with a possible meeting time and date, so I wanted to write to you now to request that you confirm this as soon as possible. It is extremely important that I learn more about the SP-X4 treatment.

  Within my practice here in Scotland I have seen a continuous rise in the number of cases reporting personality change following the receipt of donated organs. Notably, I have observed a significant rise in such cases in the past two weeks. I am consequently now considering writing to 'The Medicines and Healthcare products Regulatory Agency (MHRA)' for Great Britain with a number of recommendations relating to SP-X4, one of which could include suspension of its use until a more detailed trial is conducted that also examines the symptoms that my, and I am sure, other patients have been reporting.

  A more detailed understanding of the treatment and its side effects may help to alleviate my concerns, hence the importance of our next meeting, as we agreed.

  However, if I have not heard from you within the next forty-eight hours, I will be obligated to proceed and issue a report to the MHRA within the next seven days.

  Yours sincerely,

  Dr Stephen Jamieson."

  .

  He read the email twice, then hit 'send'.

  Chapter Sixty Three

  .

  .

  Ironbridge

  May 3rd

  4.30 p.m.

  .

  .

  Peter sat in his hotel room, lying on the bed, wondering what on Earth he was going to do next.

  He had just been released from police custody, after spending one of the most stressful and worrying days of his life.

  The arrest had taken him completely by surprise, even though Sergeant Angus had warned him that if he was successful in tracking down a body, something like this could happen.

  They had taken him to a police station in Telford, where he had been formally charged with the murder of the person whose body he had just led them to. After being allowed to call his solicitor in Scotland, he had then been taken to a cell and left alone for the rest of the morning.

  His solicitor in Scotland had put him in contact with an English lawyer, another member of their UK-based Partnership and someone qualified in English law, and at about 2 p.m. she had visited him at the police station.

  Even in her words, it was an unusual case.

  They had a body.

  And they had a suspect, although the grounds for suspicion were not usual, merely that they did not know or could not understand how Peter could know where the body was, unless he was the person who put it there.

  For a while Peter had considered telling them everything, coming clean, and explaining everything about his transplants, but he was worried the police would find that even more unbelievable than the story about the clairvoyant.

  The solicitor had pushed back on the police, insisting that they date the body and identify it as soon as possible. Luckily, the Forensics team were able to come back quickly with an expected time of death, using the latest dating procedures that had just started being used by their department. Their results dated the body back to June the year before, with an accurac
y of +/- 10%.

  That put Peter in the clear.

  Peter had been in and out of hospital and on dialysis for kidney failure from April onwards last year, including several weeks spent in a coma. A quick phone call by Alex to his doctor and his mother had confirmed that and provided a firm alibi.

  Alex had then made a second phone call to Sergeant Cameron Angus, who had acknowledged that he knew that Peter was down south 'looking for bodies', and admitted that a few days ago Peter had spent several hours with him in confidence, expressing to him many more details about the hunt for the serial killer, details that the Sergeant could not elaborate upon without Peter's permission. The Sergeant had also then vouched for Peter.

  In the end, with no specific evidence, and a firm alibi, Peter's solicitor had managed to get the police to drop the charges.

  Peter even received an apology from Alex as he was about to leave the station, albeit rather formally: "I'm sorry. Perhaps we acted rather rashly. However, as an officer of the law, I find it rather difficult to give any credence to your claims or discussions regarding ‘clairvoyance’. I have to view all of that with considerable suspicion. The reality is that there has to be more to this case than you are letting on, but based upon the evidence I had, there was no way I could just let you walk free." The local constable had gone silent for a few moments, hoping that Peter would feel compelled to fill in the empty gap in speech. Peter said nothing. "Is there anything more you can tell us?" Alex prompted.

  "No." Peter replied. He turned to go, but then stopped and turned back to Alex.

  "Can we talk a moment in private?"

  .

  A few minutes later, they were sitting in a small interview room. A police officer stood by the door, out of earshot, his gaze fixed ahead of them and steady, doing his best to impersonate an inanimate stuffed dummy.

  "Alex,...sorry, Constable..." Peter shifted nervously in his chair..." I'm sorry for bringing this to you and creating this confusion in your life...but if you knew everything you would be even more confused. I can promise you that. "

  Alex said nothing. He was looking firmly at Peter.

  "The thing is, ...Alex...," Peter said, almost timidly,"...I am worried that there may be more bodies. I don't know where or how many, but if there are any more, I am determined to find them. And I know that each time I find one, the police are going to have lots of questions...so if or when I do find another body, I will need a friend in the police down here, that I can turn to for help. Sergeant Angus is on the Scottish police force and the law is quite different up there."

  Alex still hadn't spoken. Peter continued.

  "I spoke with Sergeant Angus a lot before I came down here, and I can understand that what I am doing will and must be viewed with suspicion. Even so, I don't want to go around digging up bodies myself. I know there are others, and I will find them! But what do I do with one when I find it? ...And Sergeant Angus made me promise to keep any grave or burial site as intact as possible, to maximise any forensics team's chances of finding anything in or around the grave or burial site that could help us catch the murderer... So, if I find another body, I'm going to be contacting another police force somewhere to get them to dig anything up..."

  Alex had still not bitten.

  "Fine...okay...but before I go, can I ask two things...?"

  "Certainly. Please go ahead," Alex had said.

  "Can you please keep me up to date with anything that you find out that relates to the body you just dug up?...If you track down a missing Valentia or find out anything, and I mean anything that you could tell me about...I would really appreciate it."

  Alex spoke.

  "Peter, I'm sure you can appreciate that, even if I wanted to, I would not be able to share any details with you concerning an ongoing case."

  "Alex...it's a two way street. Last week you had nothing. Now you have a body, a name, details of the murder, and a link to a possible serial killer. I gave you all that. I'm just asking for what you can give me. And in return, maybe I will be able to give you more..."

  Peter stood up to go.

  "Fine. I understand...How about this though...it was me that suggested that you look at the spade in the greenhouse in the garden. It was me that suggested you look for blood stains on the handle. Tell me...did you find any?"

  "Yes."

  "What blood group was it?"

  "I'm sorry, Peter..."

  "If you find out, can you let me know?"

  "Let me consider it. May I ask, why do you want to know?"

  "It might come in useful later on. How about I suggest something else for you to look for...The body you took out of the ground in the forest was wrapped in some form of rubber matting. Can you ask the forensics team to look at the outside of the matting itself and see if they can also find any blood smeared on it? If you discover any, I think you could find that it is the same as that on the spade. If the clairvoyant is right, and the killer cut his leg, got it on his hand, then put it on the spade, he might also have smeared some of it on the rubber matting when he carried the body through the forest on his shoulder."

  "I will instruct them to look," was all that Alex said.

  Peter turned and walked towards the door. The policeman at the door looked at Alex, who nodded back, and then the policeman opened the door and let Peter out.

  When they came to the entrance of the station, Alex stepped outside with Peter.

  "Listen," Alex said. "Please try to understand things from my viewpoint. This is all rather unconventional. We deal with the normal, not the paranormal. In truth, I can't accept that you are getting this information from a third-party clairvoyant. I think that this is something you have made up. Off the record, my instinct tells me that you are the source of this information. Maybe you, Peter, are clairvoyant. But I do not think that there is anyone else involved here. It's just you. As to how you know this stuff, I have no idea. None what so ever."

  Alex was staring at Peter quite intensely, examining him for a reaction.

  Peter smiled.

  "Alex, I know you are just doing your job. And I am doing mine. Hopefully you can meet me half-way, and we can help each other out somehow?"

  "I cannot offer you any guarantees. Or any promises." Alex half smiled.

  "Thanks." Peter replied.

  "O".

  Peter looked puzzled. " 'O' what?"

  "The blood group from the blood on the spade. It's group 'O' ".

  And with that, Alex turned and walked back into the police station.

  .

  It took a second to sink in, but then the significance of what Alex had just said hit Peter between the eyes. It made perfect sense. Peter was blood group 'O-'. That meant that he would only be able to accept kidney's donated from someone who was either 'O+' or 'O-'. So, if the blood on the spade did come from KK, then it would have to be blood group 'O' too.

  Standing outside the police station, Peter shivered.

  As he walked to the main road and hailed a taxi, he wondered to himself, how long it would be before Alex asked Peter what blood group he was too? And when he did, how would he explain that to Alex?

  Chapter Sixty Four

  .

  .

  The Craigmillar Estate

  Edinburgh

  May 3rd

  10 p.m.

  .

  .

  Sergeant Cameron Angus took off his helmet, placed it on the back of his motorcycle and walked across to the group of Craigmillar Residents gathered around something at the end of the little alleyway between two of the modern tenements.

  He had a bad feeling about this.

  They had spent the past day walking around the estate going door-to-door trying to find anyone who may have seen or heard anything relating to the shooting of Wee Eck.

  It was like trying to squeeze blood from a stone.

  No one was saying anything.

  People were used to violence on the estate. They were used to police asking questions. But t
here was a big difference this time...when a police officer knocked on a door and told them what it was about, the residents smiled.

  Almost universally, the residents of the Craigmillar Estate thought this murder 'was great!' They were all glad to see the back of the 'wee bastard'.

  It also didn't help that somehow someone had got hold of a photocopy of the message that had been posted to Wee Eck's body, and now the same message was being displayed inside all the windows of the resident's apartments.

  .

  "ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.

  IF YOU SELL DRUGS OR DO CRIME ON THIS ESTATE, EXPECT TO DIE.

  Signed,

  CRAIGMILLAR RESIDENTS FOR LAW AND ORDER 'CREW'. "

  .

  Of course, no one would say where the photocopy had come from, but the most obvious solution was that someone had taken the message from the body, copied it, and put it back before Cameron had got to Wee Eck's body.

  Either that or the "Craigmillar Residents for Law and Order 'Crew' " were getting organised.

  .

  As the Sergeant walked towards the crowd, they stepped aside and started clapping. The Sergeant quickly realised that they weren't clapping him. They were clapping the work of the CRAIGMILLAR RESIDENTS FOR LAW AND ORDER.

  In the middle of the crowd, the body of another young man lay sprawled on the ground in front of him, a photocopy of the first, original message stuck to his body.

  He recognised the man immediately. It was 'Jamsie', another member of Big Wee Rab's team. He had been shot in the head, the bullet entering from the back and blowing away the top of his skull.

  .

  --------------------

  Susie's flat

  Edinburgh

  May 3rd

  .

  Susie lay in her bed, thinking. She had just finished talking with Peter in Ironbridge. Thankfully he was out of prison and back in his hotel room. He had been released and all charges had been dropped, although they had asked him to let them know of his whereabouts in the coming weeks, just in case they needed to talk to him again.

  Amazingly, he sounded in good spirits. Cheerful even.