Prosper Snow Series

by Shaun Jeffrey

  When he reached the ridge of the roof, he withdrew two long, flat, thin lengths of metal with short hooked ends that he had designed himself and slid them as far up as he could reach, pushing them underneath the tiles. Attached to each metal bar was a length of strong cord, fixed to the end of which were small stirrups into which he planted his feet, allowing him to hoist himself up onto the roof.

  Even though the tiles were still wet, the climbing shoes that he wore increased his grip enough that he clambered up to the apex without slipping. Once at the top, he straddled the roof and shuffled across towards the front. From where he was, he had an excellent view of the surrounding countryside. There was a house on either side of the property, a main road at the front, and fields behind.

  In a built up area, people usually ignored any alarms as they were so used to hearing them, something a good burglar could use to his advantage. But out here in the country, alarms going off were often investigated.

  Once he reached the gable end at the front of the property, he took a plastic cover out of his bag that he lowered onto the light on top of the alarm, then he removed a can of expanding foam out of the backpack, attached a two foot long plastic pipe to the nozzle, then leaned forwards and guided the pipe into one of the slits in the alarms housing. Then he pressed the button on top of the can and filled the alarm with foam. When the foam started to ooze out of the slits, he released the button, pulled the pipe out and packed it all into the backpack before making his way back along the roof to the hooks to make his descent.

  Rivers lowered himself over the edge of the roof, got a good grip on the brickwork, and then levered out his hooks and put them away. Then he descended.

  The foam was quick-setting and he knew it would have hardened by the time he reached the ground, but he gave it another couple of minutes to be sure and then he approached the back door and set about picking the lock, which took him a couple of minutes to crack.

  When the last tumbler fell into place, his adrenaline pumping, he opened the door and slipped inside, finding himself in a large kitchen with a central breakfast area around which were situated four high backed chairs. A distant beeping sound originated from the front of the house, which was the sound of the alarm control panel warning him that he had probably less than twenty seconds to disarm it.

  After the allotted time, the alarm started ringing, like that of an angry bee. It wasn’t killed entirely, but it was muffled enough by the expanding foam that people wouldn’t notice it and then after so long, it would fall silent as the battery ran out.

  Rivers checked his watch; he had plenty of time.

  With any luck, he would only need to do one or two more break-ins and then he could lay low for a while. But now it was time to go to work.

  CHAPTER 10

  Prosper shielded his eyes and stared up at the burglar alarm near the gable end of the detached house. What looked like expanding foam protruded from the slits in the housing and a cover had been placed over the light to hide the fact it was flashing.

  Mike cleared his throat. “Looks like the Obituary Man has struck again.”

  Prosper nodded. “Same M.O., striking when the family was at the funeral. But how the hell did he get up there?” He pointed at the alarm.

  “Perhaps he used a ladder.”

  “Parking outside the house with a ladder strapped to the roof would be too conspicuous.” Prosper chewed his thumbnail as he looked up. “He had to have gotten up there another way.”

  “Well I’m damned if I know how he did it. Christ, he could have parachuted in for all I know.”

  “Hardly.”

  “Okay then, you tell me how he did it.”

  Movement in one of the bedroom windows caught Prosper’s attention; the widow looking down at him, her face pale, features drawn. After a moment, she sank back into the shadows.

  “Come on.” Prosper turned. “Let’s have a look around the back.”

  He walked along the path at the side of the house and into the back garden. As usual, the property wasn’t overlooked, meaning that the robber had done his research. A few trees stood sentinel at the far end of the grass. Beyond these was a simple wooden fence. Resting between the branches of a tree, Prosper noticed a tree house. Without another word, he started walking across the grass.

  “Now where are you going?” Mike shouted.

  Prosper didn’t reply. When he reached the foot of the tree, he looked up. A makeshift ladder formed from six inch nails had been nailed into the trunk. Most of them had rusted, the bark growing around where they entered to show that they had been in situ for a long time.

  Prosper pulled a pair of forensic gloves out of his pocket, slipped them on, then taking hold of one of the nails, he started to climb, keeping his body close to the trunk. When he was high enough, he grabbed a protruding branch and used it to help hoist himself higher until he eventually reached the tree house where he was able to pull himself onto a small ledge. Sharp pain radiated from his left palm, and he held his hand up to see blood spreading around a cut in the glove, probably caused by the head of a nail. He winced.

  “Shit.” He rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a crumpled tissue. Fifteen or so feet below him, Mike stood looking up, a frown marring his features.

  “I don’t think this is the time to start recapturing your youth.”

  Prosper made a fist around the tissue, then turned and pushed open the door to the tree house. It creaked open, the hinges rusted.

  “Are you going to tell me what the hell you’re playing at?”

  Prosper turned and crawled through the doorway. The wooden structure groaned around him and despite being a good four stone lighter than at his heaviest, he was worried that it wouldn’t take his thirteen stone.

  Too small to stand up in, he crawled to the window and stared out. He had a perfect view of the house; wondered, just wondered if the burglar had used the tree house as a lookout post. It would have been ideal.

  He crawled back, intending to exit the room when he noticed slivers of wood on the floor. He picked one up, held it to the makeshift window frame where white scars revealed where they had been taken from. He turned the sliver over. While the front was a dark oak colour, the back was white, fresh, indicating that it had only recently been peeled from the frame.

  Prosper dropped the piece, backed out of the room and shuffled over the edge and back down the tree trunk. Although it wasn’t overly high, he was glad to be back on terra firma.

  “Mike, I want the crime scene analysts to perform a through search of the tree house. I think our burglar used it as a lookout post before he did the robbery.”

  Without any questions, Mike jogged back towards the house where scene of crime analysts were already hard at work looking for clues.

  Prosper followed him, staring intently at the building.

  Come on, how did you get inside?

  He tried to put himself in the Obituary Man’s shoes. Obviously he managed to get up to the alarm to fill it with expanding foam, but how? Using a ladder would be too obvious and would likely draw attention to him. No, he had to have done it some other way.

  Once he reached the shadow of the house, Prosper stopped and looked up. The burglar would likely have waited and watched from the tree house and then when everyone left, he would have made his way across the lawn. But how did he get up onto the roof? He didn’t fly, so there had to be a way. The burglar had already shown a high degree of skill with the other break-ins, and this one was no different. He obviously knew what he was doing.

  He glanced at a thick pipe attached to the wall like an artery protruding from the brickwork. For someone with the Obituary Man’s talent, climbing that would be an easy task. He looked up to where the pipe ended, saw bricks jutted out as part of an artistic design. Anyone who could climb would have no problem scaling them.

  Prosper nodded. “And Mike,” he shouted before his partner disappeared inside the house, “have someone check out the roof above that down pipe for
anything that looks as though it’s been disturbed.”

  Mike put his thumb up and then entered the house.

  With the price of gold going through the roof; the burglar had taken a number of rings, bracelets and necklaces, all of which would be easy to fence. According to the home owner, he had also taken a few choice ornaments. He never took anything that was too large to carry and he certainly had an eye for value.

  Unlike many random burglaries, the Obituary Man did his homework and he knew his way around alarm systems. Prosper recalled the industrial unit he had visited the day before where the body had been found outside. The security on that place was tight, but he was sure the Obituary Man could crack it if he wanted to.

  Prosper jabbed his finger at Wolfe. “I’m not asking you to help, I’m telling you.”

  Wolfe glared back at him. “Forget it. I’m not getting involved. You’re worrying about nothing.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the counter in his kitchen, his jaw pushed out in defiance.

  Sunlight blazed through the long window behind Wolfe, blurring his outline and making Prosper recall the previous summer, the summer when he got more than just blood on his hands.

  “I’ll say it one more time, it’s not a request. You basically forced me into helping you and the others deal with Hatchet Man. Well now you owe me and I’m here to collect.”

  Wolfe shrugged. “What’s happened to the easygoing Prosper that I used to know?”

  “He died alongside Hatchet Man.”

  “Well it doesn’t matter what you say, I’m not getting involved.”

  “Blackmail is a nasty vice, Wolfe, so don’t force me to play it.”

  Wolfe snorted. “You have as much to lose as me if anything ever gets out about what we did, so don’t try pulling that shit with me.”

  “Exactly. And neither of us wants to lose anything. But if this man knows what we’ve done, shit’s going to start flying. What if this man’s got some evidence?”

  “Well from what you’ve told me so far, he doesn’t sound like he wants to arrest you. He wants to recruit you.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about. If he knows what I did, why would he want to recruit me?”

  Wolfe shrugged.

  “Well I don’t like it. Now I don’t know who he is or who he works for, but I’m damn well going to find out. And like it or not, you’re going to help me.”

  Wolfe unfolded his arms, sighed and rubbed his cheeks. “So tell me again what you want to do.”

  “Well we’ve worked out that the burglar robs families as they attend the funerals of their loved ones, so my bosses have arranged to plant a fake obituary in the paper to try to trap him. I want to plant one first, using you and your house as bait.”

  “You mean you want me to die?”

  “Only figuratively. We’ll just plant a fake obituary for you.”

  “And what do you do if you manage to catch this thief? What do you want him for?”

  “I want him to break into an industrial unit for me.”

  Wolfe chuckled. “Man, you’ve changed. Exactly which side of the law are you now on?”

  Prosper clenched his teeth. He hoped he was still on the righteous side, but in all honesty, he couldn’t be certain anymore. His actions had already pushed way beyond the boundary of what’s right and wrong.

  After visiting the industrial unit the other day, he had performed a search on Trent Systems, but came up empty. There were no records of the business at all. Not a thing. It wasn’t a registered business and there were no tax records. It was as though the place didn’t exist.

  He couldn’t order a search warrant without sufficient grounds, which he didn’t have, but he just instinctively felt there was something going on.

  “So what do you want him to break in for?”

  “There are cameras outside the building. I’m guessing that they recorded the killer of that man I told you about.”

  “So why not just order the recordings to be handed over?”

  “Because I’m not on the case so I have no authority.”

  “But won’t those who are on the case have requested the recordings?”

  Prosper shrugged. “I don’t know. The case doesn’t officially exist as far as I can tell. There’s not even been a report of the deaths in the papers. This is the only lead I’ve got. If I can find out who that man was, and who killed him, then perhaps I can start piecing everything together. They’re hiding something. I’m going to find out what that something is.”

  CHAPTER 11

  “You’re tense. Just relax.” Natasha stroked Prosper’s neck.

  “It’s just been one of those days.”

  “Well you seem to be having one of those days quite a lot lately.”

  Prosper picked at a loose thread on his trousers.

  Natasha stopped stroking. “I don’t know whether this is the best time to tell you then.”

  “Tell me what?”

  Natasha put her hands in her lap and looked down. After a moment she said, “I’m pregnant.”

  Prosper’s jaw went slack and his heart felt as though someone had given it a punch. “How? When?”

  “Well I shouldn’t have to tell you the ‘how’. The ‘when’ was possibly after I had that sickness and diarrhoea the other month. I probably threw the pill back up or something.”

  Prosper didn’t know what to say. He worked saliva around his mouth and then swallowed. Pregnant. It had been hard work bringing up a baby before the accident that left Natasha unable to walk without her crutches and the leg brace, but now …

  “Are you sure?”

  “I took two tests. I know it wasn’t planned, but you know, I’m happy about it.”

  “So you want to keep it then.”

  Natasha frowned. “Of course I want to keep it. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Prosper licked his lips and glanced at her legs before looking up and smiling at her. “If it’s what you want, then let’s go for it.” He leaned in to give her a hug and a kiss, but Natasha shuffled away.

  “If it’s what I want. So you don’t want me to go through with it, is that what you’re saying?”

  “No, that’s not what I said at all.”

  “Maybe you didn’t say it, but that’s what you’re thinking. I thought we were all right now, after everything that happened.”

  “We are. We’re solid.”

  “Well it doesn’t feel like it.”

  “You just took me by surprise, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “I can always do this on my own you know.”

  Prosper raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Where’d that come from? Look, I’m happy about it. A new baby. That’s great. It’ll give Leon someone to play with.”

  “Then why don’t you look happy about it?”

  “Since when do I ever look happy about anything? Look.” He pointed to his face and forced a smile.

  “It’s more of a grimace.”

  “Well I can’t help how it looks. Honestly …” He took hold of her hand. “I’m happy about it. It’s great news. We’ll be one big happy family.” He leaned across and kissed her on the cheek, then patted her stomach. “And there was me just thinking you were getting fat.”

  Natasha punched him playfully on the arm. “At least I’ve got an excuse for mine.”

  They both laughed, although deep down, Natasha’s comment made Prosper recall the jibes he had to endure as a podgy adolescent and he felt an acid burn in his stomach. Some things were engrained into the psyche. Being the victim of bullying was one of them.

  He looked at Natasha and then turned away. He didn’t know how he really felt about her being pregnant. He already had another child, a daughter a couple of years older than Leon. Natasha didn’t know about her. Prosper was getting good at keeping secrets. Perhaps he was getting too good.

  CHAPTER 12

  Prosper stared down at the man’s corpse and cringed. Flies alighted on the ruined blancmange
-like pulp that was once his face. The stone used to attack him lay nearby, an improvised pestle used for pounding and grinding.

  “Prosper, look at this.”

  Prosper walked down the path and looked at the stick Mike was pointing at. Blood coated the surface.

  “Looks like he whacked our victim with this.”

  Prosper nodded. “Probably.”

  Behind him, a forensic scientist was marking up the blood splatters that decorated the ferns and surrounding tree trunks and measuring distances between them. Somewhere in the tree canopy high above, birds sang, unperturbed by the horror that had taken place below their nests. If only they could talk, Prosper mused.

  “It looks as though our paths have crossed again, sooner than I anticipated.”

  Prosper swallowed and silently cursed as he turned to face the pockmark faced man walking towards him through the trees. He held his hand up before the man could speak. “Don’t tell me, I’m off the case.”

  “You know you don’t have to be.”

  “Mike, let’s go.” Prosper walked away before he said something he might regret.

  “Who is that?” Mike asked as he caught up to Prosper.

  Prosper shrugged. “Someone with a lot more authority than us.”

  “So what’s his interest with the murders? I’m not complaining, as you and murder don’t mix, but I’m puzzled. There’s a killer on the loose. That alone should mean that everyone and his mother should be involved to find him before he kills again. But there’s not even any mention of the previous killings in the papers.”

  “Well that’s their business.”

  Mike frowned. “So what’s all that ‘you know you don’t have to be’ about?”

  “I don’t know. He wants to give me a job or something.”

  “Really? What sort of job?”

  Prosper shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve got a job already.”

  “Are you mad? If they’re that secret, they obviously pay more.”

  “Money isn’t everything.”