Prosper Snow Series

by Shaun Jeffrey

  He wiped his hands on his thighs and shivered before jumping into the passenger seat. He felt dirty and sacrilegious. Although not a religious man, there were some things he thought shouldn’t be disturbed, and a dead body was one of them.

  He opened the window and leaned his head out to draw breath. He didn’t fancy being cooped up with the smell.

  With events now out of his hands, Wolfe was right, they needed to place Hatchet Man’s corpse with the others to make it seem that the Oracle really did kill him. After that, he didn’t know what to do. He had delayed calling the police, but with time running out, they needed to act fast.

  The return journey passed by in a blur. Prosper couldn’t concentrate, and he kept tapping his foot and chewing the skin from around his ragged fingernails.

  Moonlight painted the lane leading to the pumping station, the trees crowding round them like prison bars. Potholes put the Jeep’s suspension through its paces, jerking Prosper in his seat, and a dust shroud followed in their wake.

  As they turned into the lane leading to the pumping station, Prosper made the call to the police, then slumped back in his seat, his thoughts all over the place. He felt unnerved by how easily corruption and deceit had become part of his fabric.

  “What do we do if the Oracle’s come back?” Wolfe asked as he parked the vehicle.

  Prosper withdrew the gun and checked the action. “Then I blow seven shades of crap out of him, that’s what happens. Now help me carry Hatchet Man.”

  He returned the gun to his waistband, the cold metal kissing his skin like ice, and exited the car.

  At the rear of the Jeep, he opened the boot and forcibly pulled Hatchet Man out, letting the corpse thump to the ground. Then he grabbed the severed limb and placed it on top of the body.

  “Grab his legs,” he said.

  Wolfe did as Prosper asked, and they lifted the body and started shuffling towards the building which was guarded by the trees.

  Pine needles crunched underfoot, and they had to scuttle sideways to avoid the ruts and rabbit holes that lined the dusty track.

  Prosper kept his ears alert for the Valkyrie cry of sirens in their wake, but apart from the rustle of leaves, all was peaceful.

  Sweat beaded both their faces and Prosper’s legs ached with the extra weight as they carefully carried the corpse over the pitted terrain. At the lip of a slight rise, they started down and the building became visible in the distance. Recent events soured Prosper’s happy memories of the place when they used to cycle along the path and through the trees, using the landscape as an off road race track, which resulted in more than one or two cuts and bruises. Not that Prosper ever won any of the races, as his extra weight meant he usually laboured at the rear, pedalling his Raleigh Chopper bike for all he was worth.

  With the moon hovering behind the building, its front dwelled in shadow, the tall chimney a judgemental finger. Prosper stopped and said, “Drop him a minute, while I check the coasts clear.”

  They lowered Hatchet Man to the ground and Prosper rotated his arms, relieving tired muscles. Then he crept towards the building, stood on tiptoes, cupped his hands against the glass, and peered inside. Everything looked the same as before, and although he couldn’t be certain that the killer wasn’t hiding in one of the adjoining rooms, it was a risk he was going to have to take.

  Mindful of the stench inside the building, his stomach gurgled and he hurried to open the door before returning to where Wolfe waited. The quicker they got this over with, the better.

  “Okay, let’s go.” He crouched down and grabbed Hatchet Man underneath where his arms would normally be, careful not to tear the stitching that bound his remaining leg to the shoulder, then together they lifted the body and staggered towards the front door.

  Prosper didn’t fail to notice that Wolfe lacked his usual bravado. Perhaps his old friend had a moral compass after all. Either that or fear had eventually gotten the better of him. But it was all a little late in the day now to grow a conscience.

  As he entered the building, he tried to make sense of everything. So many things didn’t add up. It had to be more than coincidence that the man they tried to frame for a murder they committed had also implicated Prosper in his own crimes through hidden clues that the police hadn’t yet deciphered.

  That meant it had to be someone they knew. Someone who knew what they had done. Someone who knew where they used to hang out. But who? Only one person fit the bill. As they walked across the room towards the display of corpses, Prosper stared at his old friend. Wolfe’s photographs had looked so damn real. Or was it because the photographs were real? Had they been actual photographs of the real corpses? That would certainly explain why they had been so readily accepted as such by the investigating teams.

  And then, when they killed Hatchet Man, Wolfe had been unperturbed, hacking away at the corpse to create a macabre display that he could capture on film. There was also the question as to how the Oracle knew about their secret e-mail account.

  It all seemed too convenient. And now, here Prosper was, walking into the killer’s lair with someone who might be the killer. Despite having earlier discounted Wolfe as a suspect, nothing else seemed plausible. He just hoped to God he was wrong.

  “Let’s deposit the body with the others, then leave and wait for the cavalry to arrive,” Prosper said, praying for the cry of the sirens.

  Wolfe nodded.

  Prosper chewed his lower lip. It wasn’t like Wolfe to be so quiet, not unless his mind was elsewhere. Like on murder.

  They dropped the body on the floor, and Prosper stood up straight and gripped the handle of the gun. He glanced at the corpses of his old friends and swallowed the lump in his throat. He felt responsible for their deaths. If he had only argued more, refused to go along with Jerel’s harebrained scheme, then none of this might have happened.

  About to turn away, something caught his eye, and he stared at a small table behind the corpses. He didn’t recall noticing it before, but then he was more concerned with rescuing his wife. Items decorated the surface, items he instantly recognised because they belonged to him: the jacket that he had been unable to find. The difference now was that blood spattered its surface. The boning knife that had gone missing from their kitchen, its blade coated in gore. A piece of rope that he recalled used to hang in the garage. Items obviously used to murder the victims, and which were now coated with both his and the victim’s DNA, implicating him as the perpetrator of the crimes.

  The strength drained from Prosper’s legs.

  “What’s wrong?” Wolfe asked.

  Prosper withdrew the gun and pointed it at his old friend.

  “Perhaps you’d like to tell me what the fuck this is all about,” Prosper snarled.

  Wolfe took a step back. “Whoa. Take it easy. I don’t know what you’re on about. We’ve already been through this once. I’m as much in the dark as you.”

  “Well let’s go through it again.”

  “I don’t care what you believe. Just lower the gun before you do something we’ll both regret.”

  Prosper shook his head. The gun may as well have been surgically attached to his palm, because there was no way he was dropping it. “Just tell me why you’ve done it.”

  Wolfe narrowed his eyes and frowned. “I’ve not done anything.”

  Prosper tensed his finger on the trigger. “Last chance to talk, before I blow your brains out.”

  CHAPTER 54

  Jill stared at the large sand coloured building. Where the hell had Prosper gone? After getting his wife to the safe house, she had rushed back here to find Prosper and his friend gone.

  Jill knew there was something going on between Prosper and his friend, but she didn’t know what, and that galled her. While she didn’t dislike Prosper, she felt he was keeping things to himself, which was why she didn’t feel they could ever maintain a close partnership. She didn’t trust him. And recent events only reinforced her concerns. She wanted to know who this mystery infor
mant was who had tipped Prosper off. She also wanted to know why Prosper’s friends had been murdered by the killer. It didn’t make sense, and the explanation that he was being targeted after leaking the false story to the newspaper to flush the killer out didn’t sound plausible, because how would the killer know it was Prosper that leaked the story? Of course, if it was true, then it had worked, albeit probably not the way he intended. Unless of course, one of his friends was the killer. She mused over it for a while, realising that in a warped way, it made a sort of sense.

  There was always the chance that Prosper’s other theory held a grain of truth, that someone he once arrested was out for revenge. That would mean cross checking all Prosper’s arrests and looking for anything that connected with the recent murders, which would take a long time. But that seemed less plausible than her own theory.

  She tried radioing Prosper, but didn’t receive a reply. She gulped, felt her heart thud. She had checked with control, and true to his word, he had called his location in and updated them with everything that had happened, so reinforcements were on the way, leaving her feeling more secure about returning here alone.

  Beautiful in a strange gothic way, the building looked like somewhere the Addams Family would live. She could imagine Lurch coming to answer the large wooden door, and uncle Fester hovering in the wings.

  Houses stood to the side of the building. Metal panels covered the windows and doors and graffiti marred some of the walls, names, crude comments, and the words ‘The Kult,’ whatever that meant.

  Natural, earthy aromas filled the air, although every now and again, she smelled something repugnant that reminded her of spoiled meat.

  The moon hovered behind the building, casting a long pale shadow towards the car. Jill leaned against the roof and surveyed the area. Where the hell were they?

  The surrounding forest was a dark green mantle, like a natural amphitheatre.

  Jill wiped her brow and her hand came away streaked with sweat.

  Goddamn it, Prosper, where are you?

  She had seen a Jeep parked further up the lane, which she knew belonged to his friend, Wolfe, so they were still in the vicinity.

  She drummed her fingers on the vehicle’s roof; wondered if they were in the pumping station, but she wasn’t stupid enough to investigate on her own, not when there could be a killer lurking inside. At least out here, trees and darkness permitting, she had a good view of her surrounds.

  Perhaps they were holed up in one of the other buildings. But if so, why hadn’t they signalled their presence? Unless they couldn’t.

  The thought sent a shiver through her. What if the Oracle had returned and overpowered them? What if they were restrained, or worse still, dead.

  She stared at the main building, eyes narrowed to conquer the shadows that lingered around the protrusions and dips in the structure. What might have been movement caught her eye, but when she concentrated her gaze, she failed to spot anything.

  She suddenly heard voices raised in anger and recognised one as that of Prosper. They seemed to originate in the main building, and throwing caution to the wind, she ran towards the front door where she stopped and peered inside, trying to hold her breath against the stench.

  Moonlight radiated through the high windows at the rear of the building, and the first thing she saw was the bodies. Although she had perused the photographs until they were indelibly imprinted in her memory, the reality made them pale in comparison and she gagged.

  Averting her gaze, she saw Prosper and Wolfe stood in the middle of the room. Prosper was armed with a gun that visibly shook as he aimed at his friend.

  The tension between the two men literally crackled in the air. Although she didn’t know what was going on, she knew she had to intervene. “Drop the gun,” she said as she rushed into the room.

  Prosper spun around, a panicked expression adorning his face. Sweat peppered his brow and he ran his sleeve across his forehead to clear it away.

  “Jill. I thought I told you to drop Natasha off.”

  “I’ve done it. Now put the gun down and tell me what’s going on.”

  Prosper glared at Wolfe. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. He’s trying to frame me for murder.”

  Wolfe shook his head. “You’ve lost the plot. Why would I do that?”

  “Because you’re the goddamned killer, that’s why.”

  Jill raised her hands in a placating manner. “Prosper, just put the gun down and we’ll talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m being set up. Clues on the photographs implicate me as the perpetrator,” he waved the gun at Wolfe, “and he’s nicked some of my stuff and used it to kill the victims.”

  “I haven’t done anything of the sort. Prosper, think about it and shut your mouth before you say anything that might, you know …”

  “That might what? I’ve had enough of all the lies and deceit.”

  “Fair enough, but what about Natasha. Think about it. Think what it’ll do to her.”

  Prosper hesitated and licked his lips.

  “Would someone like to tell me what’s going on,” Jill said. Coupled with what she had worked out, it did make sense that Wolfe could be the Oracle, but after Robinson’s statement, she assumed that the killer wasn’t one person, but a group. One of the men in front of her knew the truth, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

  Prosper looked from Jill to Wolfe, wiped his sleeve across his brow again. “Just cuff him, Constable.”

  “Prosper, you’re making a big mistake. It’s not me.”

  Jill took a step towards Wolfe, withdrawing her handcuffs. “Okay, take it easy. I’m arresting you—”

  “Like fuck you are.”

  Before Jill could put the cuffs on him, Wolfe turned and ran.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot,” Prosper shouted.

  Wolfe increased his pace and two shots rang out. Jill winced, deafened by the loud report as it echoed around the building. The bullets screamed off the brickwork and ricocheted across the room.

  “Jesus Christ, Prosper, stop shooting,” she said, staring in shock at her partner. She didn’t know where he had obtained the gun, but unless he had a license, possessing it was a criminal offence, shooting it and killing someone in cold blood – well, he’d probably be looking at life in prison.

  Prosper aimed the gun again, jaw clenched.

  Before he fired, Wolfe dropped down a hole in the ground and Prosper cursed loudly, firing two more shots.

  Jill stepped in front of him.

  “Drop the goddamn gun,” she said. Her heart hammered within her chest as she stared at the unblinking eye of the barrel.

  “Move out of the way,” Prosper snapped, attempting to push her aside.

  Jill grabbed Prosper’s arm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’ll be sent down if you kill him. Now tell me what’s going on.”

  Prosper was breathing heavy, his lips moving as though he was chewing on something. “Move aside,” he said, eyes blazing with anger.

  “No.”

  Prosper yanked her hand from his arm and aimed the gun at her. “He kidnapped my wife. He was going to kill her.”

  “And how do you know? What proof have you got?”

  “I’ve got all the proof I need. Who else knew? Who else bloody knew?”

  “Knew what? You’re not making sense.”

  “About us. About what we did.”

  “And what did you do?”

  Prosper grimaced, his arm starting to waver.

  “Talk to me, Prosper.”

  “Nothing. Now just move.” He pushed her aside again and ran across the room to stare down the hole. “Come back up, you son of a bitch,” he screamed.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Wolfe shouted. “I can’t believe you fucking shot at me.”

  “If you don’t come up, then I’m going to shoot again.”

  “Listen. I’m telling you the truth. Why would I lie to you?”

  “To
set me up.”

  Jill knew she had to do something. “Prosper, backup will be here soon, so just cool it. He’s not going anywhere.”

  “How do you know where that hole leads? I don’t want him escaping.”

  “This is what he wants,” Wolfe shouted. “Think about it. The killer, the real killer, if he’s gone to all this trouble to set you up, then he knew you’d refute it. He’s playing with you; with both of us. He’s forcing you into a corner and you’re making connections that don’t add up.”

  Prosper pursed his lips, face scrunched up in concentration as though considering Wolfe’s statement.

  Jill put her hand on Prosper’s shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we’ll get to the bottom of it. But you’ve got to put the gun down. If you’re being set up, then you’re playing into the killer’s hands.” She didn’t know what to believe, but she had to disarm Prosper. In his current state of mind, he could do anything.

  CHAPTER 55

  Prosper couldn’t think straight. His world had been turned upside down. He didn’t want to believe Wolfe was the killer, but what other explanation was there?

  He stared down into the hole, the darkness too thick to penetrate.

  If he fired into the hole, would he hit Wolfe? Did he really want to kill him? Was he really the killer? Crazy thoughts spun around inside his head, but none of them made any sense.

  He closed his eyes, tried to control his breathing, concentrating as he struggled to make some sort of order out of everything.

  “Prosper, please, just put the gun down,” Jill said.

  “Listen to her and do as she says,” Wolfe shouted up.

  Prosper’s finger tensed on the trigger. “You can just shut your mouth,” he shouted back. How was he supposed to think straight with all this badgering?

  He turned and stared at the corpses, focusing on his friends. A lump lodged in his throat. If only he hadn’t let them go through with Jerel’s crazy plan, they’d still be alive. He would never forgive himself. Why did everyone around him seem to suffer? He felt like the man forced to wear the albatross around his neck in Coleridge’s poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, with everyone around him suffering because he shot the bird with a crossbow.