I Spy - Mark Kane Mysteries - Book Six: A Private Investigator Crime Series of Murder, Mystery, Suspense & Thriller Stories - A Murder Mystery & Suspense Thriller

by John Hemmings

  “Did he say who the appointment was with or what it was about?”

  “No. But he knew the anniversary dinner was important so I guess the appointment must have been more than a casual one. And what was he doing at the rail station? I can only assume that was where the appointment was.”

  “Yes. I understand perfectly now; thank you. Since he was intending to attend the dinner I assume he wasn’t at the station to catch a train. Perhaps he was meeting someone off the train.”

  “Unless at the last minute he decided to leave town – because of the Costa brothers. They’d been threatening him with various kinds of unpleasantness I understand.”

  “Was there a CCTV camera at the station?”

  “Yes, there was, but unfortunately it just isn’t possible to see what happened at the moment he fell – or was pushed. There were too many people. And apparently nobody saw him actually fall.”

  I thought about it for a moment.

  “There are two ways to explore what happened,” I said. “First the police report of course, but that may not shed any new light on the incident. But I think the ‘word on the street’ might be a valuable source of information. I do have informants I can use to find out more about that, although the more I know about who Freddy was involved with the more success I’m likely to have.”

  “I can arrange for you to meet my children. They may have extra information or details they haven’t told me about. Probably it would be best for you to see them all together. And then there’s Trish; she was Freddy’s girlfriend. She’s a user too, I’m told, with a pretty bad record. I never met her and I don’t have any way to contact her. But again, my children might know.”

  And with that I showed Kingsley back into the front office and asked Brenda to deal with the formalities. It was Brenda’s day off, but she’d agreed to come in after lunch because we were unusually busy.

  “It will be a treat to have something to do for a change,” she had said brightly over the phone when I called her.

  Chapter Four

  Nessun Problema

  I was back home when Lucy dropped by soon after five.

  “Hi, how did it go with Mr. Kingsley? I’ve got a copy of the police report, the autopsy and the forensics. It seems as if pretty much everything’s already been completed.”

  “Did Malone ask you what your angle was?”

  “Yes. I told him about the watch.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Just raised his eyebrows at me in a pitying sort of way,” she said.

  “I guess you haven’t had a chance to go over it all yet. Want to do it together?”

  “Yes please.”

  “Okay, let me get myself a drink and I’ll be right with you.”

  “What’s the Kingsley case about then?”

  “The apparently accidental death of his son which he thinks may not have been an accident.”

  “How did he die?”

  “A train ran over him.”

  “Oh dear; three violent deaths for us to deal with in one day. I can see why you need a drink. Perhaps I’ll have one too. Just a glass of wine or something if that’s okay.”

  I brought over the drinks and sat down on my recliner. Lucy sat on the sofa opposite me and dumped the files on the coffee table between us.

  “What do you want to start on?” I said. “How about you look at the report from the officers at the scene and any witness statements they may have taken and I’ll look at the autopsy and forensics reports.”

  “Okay, then we can swap.”

  Cynthia Hughes had died of a massive brain trauma and was probably dead before she hit the ground, although the severing of an artery had left plenty of blood. The murder weapon was presumed to be a tire iron found nearby the body on the kitchen floor. Some of Cynthia’s hairs were stuck to the tire iron by her blood. There was more of her blood in the kitchen sink where the perpetrator had apparently washed his hands after the attack. On the edge of the sink was a smudge made out of a mixture of Cynthia’s blood and the perpetrator’s DNA. The DNA was that of the deceased found in the garage. More of his DNA was found on the tire iron. No DNA was found on or near Cynthia’s body except hers and that of the deceased. There were smudged fingerprints found on the tire iron which were insufficient to make a match.

  Moving to the garage, the deceased was found hanging from a beam. It was surmised that he had probably climbed onto the hood or the roof of the vehicle before jumping off. The fall was insufficient to break his neck and anyway the knot in the rope was in the wrong place to break the axis vertebra − commonly known as the hangman’s fracture − so he’d died as a result of strangulation. So far no foreign prints or DNA had been found on the body, nor in the garage.

  According to the autopsy report the deceased had sufficient alcohol in his blood to have made him three and a half times over the drink-drive limit and a significant amount of barbiturates. However, the report concluded that the concentration of alcohol and prescription drugs may not have been so high as to have prevented him climbing onto the vehicle. They would have made the tying of the knot in the rope difficult though and probably precluded the climb needed to string the rope over the garage beam. It was therefore concluded that in all probability the rope had been prepared before the deceased started drinking. This, in turn, suggested that both the murder of Cynthia and the suicide of Bob were premeditated. I thought that was a little presumptuous myself. It was equally possible that Cynthia’s murder had taken place first, when Bob was still sober, perhaps on the spur of the moment, and that he had then prepared the rope, swallowed some tablets and washed them down with vodka.

  On the other hand the use of the tire iron to kill Cynthia did suggest premeditation since it would be an unusual object to have lying around in the kitchen. So it seemed to me that it was most likely that the deceased prepared the rope, seized the tire iron, went into the kitchen and killed Cynthia and then went back into the garage where he consumed the drugs and alcohol before hanging himself.

  An almost empty bottle of vodka was found on a workbench inside the garage. The bottle of vodka had Bob’s fingerprints on the outside and his DNA was found on the rim of the bottle.

  As open and shut a case as I had ever come across I thought, as I waited for Lucy to finish reading the police report.

  “There doesn’t seem to be anything helpful here,” she said eventually. “It all seems very straightforward.”

  “Tell me what you’ve got then,” I said.

  “The neighbor, Mrs. Alwin, noticed that the lights were on all night in the house next door. In the morning, at about six, she went to have a look to make sure everything was alright there. She looked though the kitchen window and could see Mrs. Hughes lying on the floor and a lot of blood, so she called the police. Soon after the police arrived they found the body of Mr. Hughes in the garage and Mrs. Alwin was asked to identify Mr. Hughes’ body; they’d been next-door-neighbors for more than six years. There really isn’t anything else. All the other neighbors in the nearby houses were questioned but nobody had seen or heard anything.”

  “There’s nothing I can see in the forensic reports or the autopsy findings either which suggests that the conclusions drawn by the police were incorrect in any important respect. Is there anything in the report about a watch?””

  “There’s no mention of a watch anywhere in the report. There was no sign of a break-in. In fact the back door was unlocked and nothing in the house seems to have been disturbed. Nothing appeared to be missing either, as far as anyone was able to tell.” Lucy thought for a minute and then said, “Perhaps the story about the watch was made up by Miss Price merely as a means of trying to get us involved in investigating the case. On the off-chance that we might find something to suggest that her lover wasn’t the cold-blooded murderer he appears to have been.”

  I went into the kitchen to fix myself another drink. “I think we should go and look at the premises,”
I said. “But first I suggest that you make an appointment to talk to Mrs. Alwin. Can you go and see her tomorrow?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “I need to get the report on Freddy Kingsley’s death tomorrow, and I need to contact a few of my snitches – see if they can shed any light on the Freddy Kingsley affair.”

  “What sort of stuff?” Lucy said.

  “Apparently young Freddy was a drug user, and it’s likely that he was selling too, possibly for one of the bigger outfits. He also owed money to a couple of unsavory characters called the Costa brothers. On the evening he died he was due to attend a family gathering for his parents’ wedding anniversary. He told his brother he’d be a little late for the celebration because he had an appointment. There’s no explanation as to what he was doing at the train station so it seems likely that he had some kind of rendezvous arranged there. The CCTV footage is inconclusive but I’ve no idea yet what any of the eye witnesses may have seen, although Kingsley says that nobody admitted to seeing anything. Anyway, I told Kingsley that I’d see what the word on the street was; if anybody knows what Freddy had been up to lately. I could study the report first, but if there’s anything known on the street then the sooner I put my minions to work the better. So I’m going to be pretty tied up all day I’m afraid.”

  “Nessun problema,” Lucy said.

  “What?”

  “I told you – I’m brushing up on my Italian. Mom and dad want me to go with them to the old country in the fall; to see our relatives there.”

  “Lycka till,” I replied.

  Chapter Five

  The Doppelganger

  Benny Spitz’s table manners were as unappealing as his general appearance. He’d been dunking his donut and a sizeable portion was now floating in his coffee and only some of the rest of it had found its way cleanly into his mouth. He wiped the back of his hand over his lips.

  “So that’s my take on it so far,” I said, having given Spitz an overview of the inquiry. “Now what do you know about the Costa brothers?”

  “They’re Italian. They loan-shark, mainly to drug users. It’s good business because they know that the only way for their clients to repay is to deal in more drugs, and the Costa brothers’ old man is a big player in drug scene in Boston. So they borrow money from the Costa brothers and the Costas steer them towards their old man’s outfit where they can buy drugs to sell on to support their own habit and make money to repay the loan.”

  “So if Freddy owed money to the Costa brothers he may have been buying his drugs from their dad?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Okay, I want you to see what you can find out,” I said. “I’ll meet you same time, same place tomorrow, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Kane. How’s Lucy? I heard the two of you’s workin’ together now.”

  “Oh, who told you that?” I said.

  He grinned and tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger leaving a small residue of donut sticking on the tip. He wiped his nose and mouth with the back of his hand again.

  “I’m going to get Len and Blue onto this too,” I said. “So don’t feed me any horseshit.”

  “It pains me to hear you talk like that Mr. Kane after all the times I’ve helped you out in the past.”

  I called over the waitress and paid the check. I left a twenty on the table for Benny.

  “Here’s a little something to be going on with,” I said.

  “Gee thanks, Kane. Good to be doing business with you again.”

  “Don’t drink it all at once,” I said.

  I walked over to headquarters to keep the appointment I’d made with Lieutenant O’Grady who was handling the Kingsley case.

  “The case is all wrapped up as far as the department’s concerned,” he said. “What’s your interest in it?”

  “The boy’s father thinks it may not have been an accident,” I said. “He wants me to look into it. So if I can have a copy of the file I’d like to take a look at what the eyewitnesses said. I don’t suppose there’s anything confidential is there?”

  “What eyewitnesses would they be?”

  “I understand the platform was quite crowded. So much so that there’s no clear view of what happened from the CCTV.”

  “Well, if you want to watch a video with nothing helpful on it and read a bunch of statements from people who didn’t see anything, be my guest.”

  “What, none of them?”

  “Not the ones we spoke to. A lot of them had left by the time we arrived and the rest just wanted to get home as soon as possible.”

  “How did Kingsley get to the station – was there a vehicle?”

  “Sure, it was parked nearby. Nothing of any significance was found in there.”

  “Is there any CCTV of the station entrance?”

  O’Grady leafed through the file.

  “Maybe. Yes, at the entrance, but we don’t have it. Didn’t seem relevant what time he arrived. Look, the kid was drunk and high on coke. It was an accident. Case closed. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.”

  “Can you see if you can get me the other CCTV – the entrance?”

  O’Grady looked over at me wearily. “Look you’ve done some good work for us in the past Kane – and you’re an ex-cop; that’s why you’re still sitting there. I’m a busy man but I’ll see what I can do. One proviso.”

  “Shoot.”

  “If you dig anything up don’t tell me about it, okay? I’m up to my neck at the moment.” He tossed a copy of the file at me.

  I had a couple more guys to see before heading home. It was one of my rare forays downtown these days. I met up briefly with Len and then Blue. They were to be my eyes and ears on the street. Anything relevant to Freddy Kingsley – whether fact or gossip – was of interest to me I told them. They would only get paid by results so they’d make it their business to find out what they could. Blue was black and I’d never asked him how he got his nickname. By three o’clock I was on the way home.

  I called Kingsley when I got back.

  “I’ve got a copy of the report, Mr. Kingsley. You probably already know that his car was parked nearby, but nothing of significance was found. There’s a CCTV at the station entrance. The police haven’t seen it but they’re going to get it for me. It’ll at least show us what time he arrived and how long he waited there; maybe show us if he was alone or if anyone was following him. I’ll let you know. In the meantime I’d like for you to arrange that meeting with your children and to give me a couple of photos of Freddy. Can you fix that up for tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Saturday, so there’ll be no problem. Shall we come to your office or…?”

  “I can come there, Mr. Kingsley, if that would suit you better.”

  “Okay. Say eleven, would that be okay?”

  “I’ll see you then,” I said, and settled down to read the report.

  *

  Lucy bounced in at about five looking pleased with herself. She plonked herself down on the sofa and looked at me.

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” she said.

  I waited − she was itching to tell me.

  “Mrs. Alwin told me that her daughter, Claudia, saw Bob Hughes driving away from the house at about six to six thirty on the evening before his body was found.”

  “And did she tell the police that?” I asked.

  “Yes, Mrs. Alwin was there when they spoke to her.”

  “So is Claudia’s statement in the file?”

  “No. That’s what’s so curious,” she said. “Why do you think that is?”

  “How old is Claudia?”

  “Nine.”

  “Probably there’s no statement in the file because the police decided not to follow up on it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, according to the pathologist, Bob Hughes was hanging by the neck in his garage at six to six thirty, dead as a doornail.”

  “Perhaps the pathologist made a mistake.”


  I sighed. “Or perhaps the nine-year-old girl did,” I said. “When the pathologist examined the body at about seven a.m. she calculated that Bob Hughes had been dead for at least twelve hours. Later she revised that to fifteen hours after a detailed examination in the lab. That puts his death at about four o’clock the previous afternoon, maybe earlier but not later. Obviously these are estimates but they’re pretty reliable estimates. All bodies go through the same processes after death; it’s a fairly exact science these days unless there are complicating factors.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like extreme environmental factors. You know, extremes of temperature, that sort of thing. Let me explain it to you in simple terms. To determine the time of death in a recent homicide the pathologist relies on two main factors – the degree of rigor mortis and the temperature of the body. Rigor mortis starts about four hours after death, affecting the eyelids and smaller muscles first and then spreading to the larger ones. Rigor is caused by the body being starved of oxygen. Full rigor occurs after twelve hours in normal circumstances and both bodies had reached that state, therefore the pathologist was able to say that death had occurred at least twelve hours before her examination. Then she took the temperatures of both bodies.

  “When a person dies they lose body temperature at a uniform rate – the pathologist states in her report that this is one and a half degrees centigrade per hour. Scientists prefer the centigrade scale because it’s easier and more precise in these circumstances. The body will continue to lose heat until it’s the same temperature as the room – what they refer to as the ambient temperature. The ambient temperature in the kitchen was sixty eight degrees and Cynthia’s body had already reached that temperature, but the temperature in the garage was lower. The temperature of Bob’s body was fifty nine degrees, so doing the math she calculated that he’d been dead for fifteen hours. Making the logical assumption that Cynthia died first – I mean she can hardly have hit herself on the back of the head – the pathologist therefore concluded that both had been dead for at least fifteen hours. It’s all in the report.”