Mystery: Quest for Justice: (Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Suspense Thriller Mystery)

by James Kipling

  First of all, I decided to research Ian Green's relatives. In the interview, he had mentioned his parents, his grandparents, an aunt, an uncle (although he was never in his life), a brother and a sister. That totaled eight people – the same number of victims there were in the field. My theory for now was that Ian Green had imagined killing his abusive family while killing these innocent victims. Perhaps that was his way of releasing his anger. He would have wanted to kill his parents because of the abuse, his grandparents because they supported the abuse, his aunt because she turned a blind eye, his sister because she did not care, and his uncle because he knew about the abuse, yet did nothing about it. However, there was still one big question that stood out: why would he want to kill his little brother? What did he ever do? I wanted to find out, but first I needed to know more about the family, and if there were any still alive. It was most likely that Evan, the brother, or Alison, the sister, would still be alive, and the others would probably be dead, although I was beginning to think that they had probably turned to drugs and ended up dead one way or another with the upbringing they had had. And it would not have been their fault. I had not yet made my mind up on whether or not I felt sorry for Ian if he turned out to be the murderer, because although what the murderer did was beyond evil, their evil would have been forced upon them, although some would not have seen it like that. Some would have wanted justice for the people who suffered such awful deaths, and I did, in a way, because it was still unforgivable, despite the horrific upbringing. I just knew that evil does not appear – it has to come from somewhere.

  I turned on the computer to do some research. Firstly, I discovered each of the names of the family members by looking for birth records, including Ian's. Ian was born in 1966, making him forty-six now, and when the first murder was committed in 1988, he would have been twenty-two years old, which, unsurprisingly, was similar to the age when serial killers first started killing, on average.

  Now that I had the names, I needed to find out which ones were dead. As I expected, all of the members of Ian's family were dead, except for Evan Green. Evan had changed his name to something else and he was now untraceable. He got out while he could, I thought, leaving his brother to suffer alone with the monsters he was living with every day of his life.. Evan just wanted to forget everything. However, it was rather interesting that Alison, the sister, was dead. She would have only been around fifty today, so it was quite unusual. I then found out that she had committed suicide – she took tablets and left a note, saying how much she hated the world and how glad she was to be finally out of it. Perhaps Evan leaving the family gave Ian the motive to kill him, I thought.

  The other family members also died in intriguing ways. Both of the grandparents had died in their homes on the same day. The autopsy report said that it was just a coincidence, that they had both died of old age on the same day, but it was still very interesting. Thomas, the father, had died of cardiac arrest, aged fifty-six. Iris, the mother, had died of liver failure due to her alcoholism. The aunt had died in a fire due to smoke inhalation, and the uncle had died in a car crash, aged twenty-eight. I did not know why, but all of these deaths seemed to be very suspicious. Although half of them were seemingly natural, it was too coincidental that four members of the same family would die of unnatural causes (or even five if Iris was included). Maybe Ian had murdered some of them himself and discovered that he enjoyed watching them suffer, so he would want to repeat it again?

  I knew that enough was enough: I was ready to arrest Ian for the murders. I was not going to charge him yet, although I was now very suspicious of him, almost too suspicious. But I swore an oath to myself before entering the job: never assume anything unless there is concrete evidence to support it. I just needed to gather more evidence against him before I charged him, but I knew I did not have much time.

  At the end of the day, after having not done much more work to progress in the case, I left the station for the night. As I was coming out of the doors, I received a phone call. I looked and it said it was Danny, my ex-fiancé. I cancelled the call. I was sick of him making these phone calls, and if he did not stop soon, I was going to arrest him for harassment. I had made it perfectly clear to him that I wanted nothing to do with him ever again – he made his bed, and now he had to sleep in it. He broke my heart, and nothing was ever going to change that. Although my life was quite busy at the moment, I wanted to try and find space for someone in my life. I had always been a loner. At school, I had one boyfriend for about three weeks. Nobody ever really liked me, and I didn't know why. I knew I was not the ugliest of people; it was probably because I was too focused on my work. Throughout my school life I pushed boys aside, and that was what got me here today. But now I was determined that one day, I would find the one. I knew I would eventually, no matter how long it took.

  After that depressing moment, I decided to forget about it and move on with my life. I went home and looked at the notes and information about the case so far.

  Chapter 21

  I returned to the station the next day, thinking it would be business as usual. In fact I was about to get another lead in the case, because a relative of one of the victims said they wanted to speak to me, with new information I had not heard before. I was excited to see what it was, to see if it got me anywhere, and most importantly, to see if it gave me any more evidence to convict Ian Green of the murders.

  "Hello," said the woman, who appeared to be in her late sixties.

  "What can I do for you?" I asked her as politely as possible, just to show that the case of her relative was in good hands.

  "Well," said the timid woman, "I am...was the daughter of Fred Lesley."

  "That's right," I said, showing her that I had at least thought about her father. "He was the elderly man."

  "Yes," she said, apparently nervous. "Anyway, the news said that you have arrested Ian Green. I came in as soon as I could."

  "Yes," I replied, beginning to get excited at the thought that it might lead somewhere.

  The woman continued. "Well, I think I have more evidence to help convict him, if he is guilty."

  By now I was very excited. Hopefully this woman was correct, and Ian Green had slipped up somewhere.

  "Please, tell me," I replied.

  "Well," she said, "I don't know where else to start, but at the beginning."

  "And that is a very appropriate place to start," I said, trying to be as reassuring in my voice as possible, while pushing her to tell me about this evidence as quickly as she could.

  "Well, it started a few months before my father was killed. I was coming to see him one day, and when I left, it was getting dark, and I got the fright of my life when I saw Ian Green standing outside my dad's window!" she cried.

  "Really?" I said, glad that my hopes were correct.

  "Yes. Me and my sister got the fright of our lives. We asked him what he was doing and he just said, 'sorry. I was looking for something.' But that wasn't the first time we seen him there. We seen him twice after that, me and one of my brothers, and then we think we saw him a few times after that, peering into my father's window."

  "But you can't say for certain that it was him the last few times?"

  "No, because it was really dark, but we can only assume that it was him. He must be a head case anyway. Why would he peer into an old man's window like that?"

  "Well, hopefully, I'll find that out for you," I replied. "But the only explanation I can give you right now is that Mr. Green has problems."

  "Well, does that help?" the elderly lady asked.

  "Yes, it does actually," I said. "It helps a lot."

  I was now more confident with the case; I was more confident that Ian Green was indeed the killer I was searching for.

  Then, suddenly, something came to me. Elizabeth Beckett, the elderly woman, was murdered with an axe, and not everyone buys axes these days! Even the type of axe was identified, so if I found a record of purchase for that specific axe, I would be able to
find more evidence that pointed towards Ian Green, because the person who bought the axe would have had to have shown an ID to be able to buy it, so there was a chance (no matter how small it was) that Ian Green could show up on a record if the shopkeeper had bothered to write down the names.

  I felt a pulsing through me – I knew that something good was coming. Was this the breakthrough in the case I was looking for? After an hour of looking for shops that sold that specific type of axe, I was fortunate enough to be able to trace one such shop in the area, and it was the only shop that sold that type of axe at the time in Minot. I was pleased with the results, but I knew the search was not yet over.

  I arrived at the shop, which was still there. To my luck, it was actually the same shopkeeper who had worked there for over twenty years. I showed him the badge, and he seemed willing to help.

  "I know you might find this strange, but I am investigating a cold case killing," I told him.

  "Let me guess," said the shopkeeper. "Are you the one investigating the killings that were on television?"

  "Yes...how did you know that?" I asked, intrigued.

  "Just a guess," said the shopkeeper. "So, what can I do for you?"

  "Well," I said, trying not to laugh with embarrassment, "I am investigating a murder that happened over twenty years ago, and I have recently discovered that the killer purchased an axe from this shop before they killed the victim."

  The man looked shocked. "You mean he came here?" he said.

  "Yes," was the simple reply.

  "And I've spoken to him?" he asked, still showing a shocked facial expression.

  "Yes. I need to know if there are any records that show purchases in between the years of 1990 and 1991."

  "As a matter of fact, there are," the man said, smiling. He went into another room for a minute, and came back out with a box. He then opened the box and asked me what type of axe it was. I told him, and he responded.

  "It looks like there are five people who bought this axe: Barry Scott, Melvin Sykes, Daniel Broughway, Harry Thudd and John Hughes."

  I was devastated. Ian Green was not mentioned in the records. I checked them myself, but there was still no Ian Green. Without coming up with the possibility that the purchase was not actually recorded, I was more puzzled than ever.

  "Is there a chance that the purchase was not recorded?" I asked.

  "I swear on my son's life, I did not miss the record. I even had a signup behind here to let them know that they were to receive a receipt, and before I gave them their receipt, I would write their names down on it. There is no possible way that I would miss it."

  "Were you off work for one day at all?"

  "I was at work every single day. I came here every Monday to Friday without fail."

  "Were there any break-ins?" I said, desperate for an explanation to this.

  "No. There has never been a break-in here either."

  I sighed. "Well, if you think of anything, contact the police, please," I said to him.

  "Actually, there is one thing," the man said.

  "Oh, go on then," I asked, desperate for more information.

  "Well, just this one time, in about 1990, somebody acted a bit strange, and it made me very suspicious...

  “He came up to me. He was wearing this sort of cowboy hat and some sunglasses so I couldn't see his face. He was quite mysterious to start off with. Anyway, he put the axe down on the table, and he said, 'how much?'

  “'That's $20,' I replied, 'but you can get a cheaper one over there. That's pretty much the same one, but for $12.'

  “He ran his fingers down the blade. 'I like this one,' he said. He then pulled out $20 and handed it to me. I then recorded his details and things.

  “'You chop a lot of wood?' I asked him.

  “'No,' he told me. That's what made me really suspicious. What else could you use an axe for except chopping wood?"

  "Did you get a name?" I asked him, hoping and praying that he would say ‘yes’.

  "No," he replied. "I'm really sorry. I just can't remember, but it might have been one of these five." He pointed to the record book.

  "Did you not think of reporting him to the police?"

  "Why would I?" he replied. "I didn't think he was going to go and chop somebody up, did I?"

  "Then what did you think?"

  "I didn't know what to think, but it wasn't right!"

  That shopkeeper gave me some fantastic leads. Was that mysterious man at the shop the killer? It was strange that he wore a sun hat and sunglasses indoors, too. For whatever reason, he did not want to be seen, and perhaps that was because he did not want to be identified until later. This killer is clever, I thought to myself, but hopefully, not as clever as me.

  I returned to the station, intending to work on the information given to me, but I was astounded when a relative of another victim approached me. This must be my lucky day, I thought.

  This time it was a young woman.

  "I need to speak to you about my mother, Irene Ford," she said.

  "O.k.," I said, hoping to get more information to make sense out of this whole thing. "We can sit down in the soft interview room."

  We sat ourselves down, and drinks were sorted.

  "So, what is it you want to tell me?" I asked her.

  "Well, I have some information which might or might not help you," she said.

  "O.k.," I said, ready as ever with my pen and notebook.

  "Well, this one time, when I was nine, a couple of days before my mother died, my mother was driving me along in the car, through the woodsy part of town, and she was pulled over by a police car."

  "A police car?"

  "Yes. It was a dark night, and a policeman got out. I could hardly see him. I know that he was wearing a sun hat and sunglasses, which was very strange. Well, he said to my mother, 'hello, missy.'

  “'What do you want?' my mother said.

  “'Well, I think you know the answer to that,' he said.

  “'I haven't been speeding, if that was what you're asking,' she said.

  “'You have,' the man said, in a sort of cheeky tone of voice.

  “'I haven't! I was going thirty miles an hour!'

  “'You know that's wrong,' he said. 'So I need you to step out of the car.'

  “'You're not even a policeman, are you?' she said.

  “He laughed. 'Do you like hunting?' he said to her.

  “'What are you talking about?' said my mother.

  “'Because I do. Maybe we should go hunting some time.'

  “My mother just drove off. She was clearly very distressed about what had happened."

  "Did your mother report this man to the police?" I asked, learning more and more information about the potential killer.

  "She did, but nothing was done about it. About four days later, my mother went missing."

  This was extraordinary. I now had people who had seen the killer. I assumed it was the killer, anyway, and it might have been the same man. It also might have been Ian Green. I hoped that I could work from there, but I did not know where to go from here. I decided to go home, as usual, and see what tomorrow brought me.

  Chapter 22

  As a matter of fact, I received yet more information about the killer. This time, it was better and bigger than any previous information I had received. When I entered the station that day, a woman of about forty came up to me.

  "Are you the one working on the serial killings case?" she said.

  "I am," I replied, "and what can I do for you?"

  "My name is Sally Juxton," she said, "and I have some information that might help you. Is there anywhere we can go?"

  We sat down, and I eagerly asked Sally what she wanted to tell me about the killer.

  "Well," Sally begun, "I was once kidnapped by a person who I think was the killer."

  "What?!" I cried, expressing my shock and excitement at the same time. I had never thought there could be a survivor of this.

  "This was in 1995. I rememb
er it so clearly," she added.

  "Please, tell me everything," I said, still in shock about what I’d been told.

  "Well, I was out one night, and I was quite drunk, so I got in one of those taxi things. You know, the ones that wait outside of clubs acting as taxis?"

  I nodded, knowing how dangerous the people who drove them were.

  "Anyway, I got in and asked the driver to take me home. I was still quite drunk at the time. He started talking to me, asking me things like, 'do you like hunting?' and 'have you ever seen any horror films?' I thought it was strange but I didn't really think much of it. Anyway, half an hour later, I was beginning to get worried, because it only took around twenty minutes to get home. By now, I was pretty much sobered up. I asked him where we were and he just said, 'you'll see'. He then laughed. He then told me I was going to die tonight. I was in shock. I tried to open the doors but they were child-locked. I tried to scratch away at his face, but it didn't stop him. Suddenly, we were out in the middle of nowhere, and he dragged me out of the car. He told me to stay where I was or he was gonna shoot me there and then. I couldn't see anyone. I don't think we were even on a road. There were no cars, or no buildings. He then told me we were going to play a little game. It was called ‘run away from the killer’ or something like that. Anyway, he got a chainsaw out of his trunk, and turned it on. I was terrified. I started to run. He started to run, laughing like a maniac. He chased me through the fields. I eventually got into the woods without him catching me. I decided to hide in a bush somewhere for the time being. After about five minutes, I heard his footsteps again, and he was whispering, 'I'm coming to get you, Alison. Oh, Alison? You're not going to get away.' It all went quiet, I tried not to breathe. Then, he revved up his chainsaw again and I just ran for it. I ran and ran. It must have been longer than an hour. I eventually got into the field again where I started. I was shocked when I saw a hole in the ground. I was beginning to think he'd dug a grave for me or something. I somehow managed to get onto a road without him finding me. It must have took two hours before I found help. By then, he was gone."