Murder at the President's House

by J. R. Johnson

  “Thank you.” Cradle said.

  “Would you like to check any luggage.” She asked.

  “No, I only have this one, a roller duffle bag.” Cradle said.

  “One more thing Detective Cradle just let airport security know that you are a law enforcement officer, so they can stored your gun in a firearms container for your flight over to London.” She told him.

  “Alright Ms, you have been very helpful. Thank you.” Cradle replied.

  Cradle leaves the British Airways ticket counter with his tickets coupled with his Ralph Lauren roller duffle bag.

  Michael Cradle retrieves his .22 revolver from Security at London’s Heathrow Airport. He was licensed to carry the weapon, and had to checked with airline security at Dulles before boarding the flight.

  The revolver securely nestled beneath while rolling his Ralph Lauren roller duffle bag, he proceeds over to Customs where he presents his passport and places his duffle bag on the table for their inspection.

  He informs the customs officials that he is a law enforcement from Washington, DC and will be in London on official business for (3) three days.

  One custom officer responds “You are free to go Detective Cradle, enjoy your stay in London.”

  Cradle responds, “Thank you.”

  Now he walks out front of the airport to take a shuttle bus to pick up the Hertz Lincoln Continental he did reserved for three days.

  “Very nice, very nice,” he said aloud as he settled behind the Lincoln’s steering wheel and adjusted his seat and mirrors. He places a call on his cell phone to Edward Windsor at the New Scotland Yard to let him know he is in town.

  “Hello Inspector Windsor, It is Detective Michael Cradle from Washington, DC we spoke on the phone a day or so ago , Now, I am here in London.”

  “Great to hear Detective,Would you like to come over to NEW Scotland Yard to meet with me.” Inspector Windsor said.

  “Sure I would like to meet with you regarding the sighting of the murderer here.” Cradle responded.

  “Alright Detective Cradle, I will give you our address 10 Broadway close to St. James Park tube station in the borough of Westminster.” Inspector Windsor said.

  “Thanks Inspector Windsor, I will be right over in my rental car after put your address in my Global Positioning System (GPS) in the car .” Cradle said.

  Cradle inputed the New Scotland address in his GPS which up on the small screen as 8.2 miles from Heathrow which is a 21 minutes drive. He took the exit roundabout onto Swansea Road, a slight left turn onto Great Southwest Road and driving 2.4 miles at the roundabout, he takes the third exit onto Bath Road. Proceeds to drive 3.9 miles onto Windmill Road as he goes down to the end of the road turning right onto Windmill Road until he reaches the end of the road again and turns left onto Northfield Avenue.

  He drives another 1.1 miles, turning left onto Kim Road, going 128 feet until at end of the road and turning left onto Kitchen in which he sees the tall windowed building on the right.

  He parked across the street from 10 Broadway, got out of the Lincoln, spent a moment to take in his surroundings, then crossed the street in which he spots the famous revolving New Scotland Yard sign

  He runs to the corner, crossed, slowly walking towards the New Scotland building. Cradles enters the lobby of the building, flashes his DC Metropolitan Police Detective badge along with his passport to the boobies on post at the entrance. The boobies motions him onto to the metal detector as it immediately sounds off. No big deal, No reason for an alarm since he is sworn officer of law enforcement just like them.

  Inspector Windsor is already down in the lobby area waiting on for Michael Cradle to arrive. Windsor is a tall, slim man with mixed gray hair wearing round glasses.

  Windsor flashed his biggest nonthreatening smile. “I presume, you are Detective Michael Cradle from Washington, D.C.”

  “Michael Cradle,” he said, extending his hand

  “A pleasure to finally meet you, Detective Cradle. I am Inspector Edward Windsor.”

  “Great” Cradle replied.

  “ I will take you upstairs to my office.” Inspector Windsor said.

  They walk over to the bank of elevators, proceed to take the one up to the sixteenth (16) floor. A relatively fast elevator ride.

  A few minutes later, Cradle and Windsor are seated in a large office. The walls are covered with plaques, framed newspaper clippings and photographs with prominent people such as Queen Elizabeth II, prime ministers and heads of states.

  “Fond memories” Inspector Windsor said from where he sit in a huge leather chair on an oak panelled desk.

  “You are a star huh?” Cradle said.

  “No, never a star just a good damn investigator and gumshoe detective.” Inspector Windsor responded passionately.

  Cradle glance over at him and his vast wall of achievements “I am very impressed with your illustrious career here at the New Scotland Yard.”

  “Thank you, Detective Cradle, I am confident that you are my equal with just as many awards and mementos.” Inspector Windsor.

  “You are welcome.” Cradle said.

  “The killer of Richard Royster was last spotted right here in London at Harrod’s “ Inspector Windsor said.

  “Thanks for the information, Inspector Windsor.” Cradle replied.

  “ Where are you staying Detective Cradle.” He asked.

  “I will be staying a hotel called Claridge on 38 Davies Street.” Cradle responded.

  “Maybe we can have lunch or dinner while you are in town,” Inspector Windsor said.

  “Great, Let’s make it tomorrow night,” Cradle said lightly.

  “Dinner, is just fine with me.” Inspector Windsor replied.

  Windsor escorts Cradle out of his office, shakes hands and leaves him to catch his elevator back downstairs to the lobby area. As he walks out of the door, a London shower occurs, so he uses his suit coat to cover his head from the rain. He anxiously waits for the light to change, so he can run quickly to his Lincoln parked across the street.

  He gets into the Lincoln and speeds away over to the Claridge where he is staying. Cradle takes a left onto 30 Davies Street , then he parks his Lincoln in a space directly in front of the Claridge He gets out of his car, retrieves his duffle bag from the trunk and enters into the revolving door of the Claridge main entrance.

  He stops at the front desk to check in.

  ‘I am Michael Cradle checking in.” The hotel clerk responds, “I will look your reservation up in our system.”

  “Yes, Yes, I got it.” She said.

  “Alright” Cradle responds.

  “Michael Cradle for a three (3) nights stay. She said.

  “Please sign the reservation card Mr. Cradle.” She said.

  He completes signing it.

  “Thank you Sir.” She said.

  “You are welcome Ms.” Cradle said.

  “Here is your cardkey to the room, Do you need a second a key?” She said.

  “No one key is just fine.” Cradle replies.

  “Alright Sir.” She said.

  “Thank you.” Cradle said.

  The lobby area was half filled with men and women enjoying cocktails while a tuxedoed pianist played some show tunes.

  The music enticed weary travelers strolling by in which Cradle was in that majority today due to the long flight from DC earlier.

  Cradle lingered a few second more taking in the ambience of the hotel lobby and the lovely upbeat music.

  Anyway, this Claridge Hotel is some classy joint. They gave a pair of slipper and a robe. Ciao!

  Then, he catched a near by elevator to his room on the seventh (7) floor. He proceeds to walk towards his room numbered 706, slide his card key and steps into his room. He turned on a table light on from the wall switch and quickly surveyed the room, which presented him with nothing of immediate interest.

  The drapes were drawn across the windows of the hotel, he places his Ralph Lauren duffle bag down on the suitcase
rack at the foot of the bed.

  At the end of his first day in London, Cradle ordered up a bucket of ice, bottles of vodka and scotch, and two club sandwiches. He stripped off his traveling clothes,

  took a hot shower, turned on the television, and poured himself a drink. Since he was off duty it was perfectly okay for him to have a drink in his room. He took

  halfhearted bite from one of the sandwiches, took sip from his scotch on the rocks and watched some television.

  Cradle yawns loudly now overcome totally by jet lag and immediately stretches out tired body on the oversize king size bed falls fast asleep

  Cradle body’s have had to adjust to the six (6) hours time difference between London and DC. He wakes up at 6:30 am like clockwork. He takes a morning shower, gets dressed, picks up the telephone and , dialed the telephone for the front desk. He places an order for a full English breakfast shown in the hotel menu and to find out what time does Harrod’s open for business. The desk clerks tells Cradle that Harrod’s opens at 10:00 a.m. and his breakfast will be brought up in thirty (30) minutes.

  A Full English is brought up consisting orange juice, cereals, stewed or fresh fruits but the heart of the Full breakfast is bacon and eggs, Accompanied by sausages, grilled tomato, mushrooms, tea, toast and marmalade.

  Cradle took his time finishing breakfast since it was only 8:00 am. Harrod’s would not be open until another 2 hours from now. He had time to review his Richard Royster murder case file and to read the latest edition of both the London Times and the Washington Post left outside of his hotel room door. He even turns on the television set in his room to Sportscenter to catch up on the NFL training camps especially with the Washington Redskins in which he was a fan.

  An hour late, he leaves his hotel, takes the elevator down to the lobby and walks out of the main entrance. The valet has brought up the Lincoln from the hotel garage. A nice and clear day in London. He steps out into the driveway, tips the valet and get into the Lincoln and programs his GPS to Harrods 87-135 Brompton Road Knightsbridge London.

  He turns right onto New Bond Street, then another right onto Bruton Street and down Burton for a tenth of a mile and turning left onto Berkeley Square. Turning right onto Berkeley Square ,makes left onto Fitzmaurice Place traveling down to end of the road then turning right onto Curzon Street and a slight left turn onto Bolton Street and end of the road turning right onto Piccadilly. Now going eight tenths of a mile keeping left and he sees the famous Harrods on the left. It is only 9:20 and the store opens at 10. Cradle parks his Lincoln and waits patiently hopefully to see Richard Royster’s killer enter Harrods this morning.

  The successful Harrods in London was founded by Charles Henry Harrod in 1834 where began selling groceries in Stepney. In the 1840s, he rented a small shop on Brompton Road, Knightsbridge, know as “Harrods.” The shop sold groceries and only had a turn of 20 pounds per week. Upon his retirement in 1860 Charles sold the business to his son, Charles Digby Harrod. The trade at Harrods continued to grow and by 1868 the shop had sixteen (16) staff and the turnover had risen to 1,000 pounds per week. Harrod concentrated on encouraging wealthy people to his store and provided personalized service for very important customers. He also managed to increase trade by introducing his own band groceries patriotically packaged in the colors of the Union Jack flag.

  As Cradle waits for the killer to arrive at Harrods, he turns on his car radio to BBC news and the newscaster reports “US President Reid to Visit UK in September”

  He thinks to himself that his case should be wrapped up before then and be safely back at home in Washington. In order to kill some time, he dialed his cell phone to Inspector Windsor’s office. A few minutes later, Windsor was on the line.

  “This is Detective Cradle.”

  “What are you doing.”

  “ I am staking out here over at Harrods for the killer.”

  “That is great to hear Detective, I hope he shows up soon.”

  “Inspector Windsor I will have to cancel our dinner meeting due for tonight, my plan to follow this killer like white on rice.”

  “Okay, no problem Detective, you will get back to London someday before I retire from Scotland Yard.”

  “Thank again Inspector Windsor for all your great help and assistance.”

  Cradle hangs out the phone with new found friend here in London. He see a silver Aston Martin pulls and parks directly out front of Harrods. A dark shady figure gets out of the car, what appeared to be a man in an Abercrombie & Fitch baseball cap with “AF” insignia on the front of it.

  Cradle observed her closely through his binoculars. She took that cap off, and shaked her long red flowing hair in the wind. Her hair had been curled and redyed, less black showing at the roots.

  Her nails had been done, and her makeup was heavy enough to border on the outlandish. Purple eye shadow flecked with gold sparkles covers broad, swollen eyelids, and the weight of long black false lashes threatened to pull her eyes closed at the moment.

  Her lipstick was fiery red as her nails, and she did created too large a mouth with it. Pendulous gold plated earrings hung from the lobes of her ears to her broad shoulders and multiple strands of costume jewelry ringed her neck.

  She walk into the main entrance of Harrods carrying the green shopping bag given to the shoppers of Harrods. While the killer is inside of Harrods. Meanwhile, Cradle hops out of his Lincoln, heads over to the Aston Martin and plants a small tracking device underneath of the killer’s vehicle. The task has been Cradle get back into his parked Lincoln and waits for her to come out of the store.

  A few minutes transpired, she walks out the front door carrying Harrods green bag with her purchased goods in it. It appears to be fairly heavy she struggles to carry as Cradle watches from his Lincoln.

  She opens the trunk of the Aston Martin and places the Harrods shopping bag in it. Slams the trunk and gets into the driver’ seat and speeds in the clear sunny morning. The tracking device is activated remotely by Cradle driving along in his Lincoln. The killer drives away unaware that Cradle is following along her every move at this point. She turns left onto Upper Brook Street instead of a right for some reason.

  Now traffic is a standstill due to an overturned truck has spilled fresh all over the road. Cradle is totally disgusted even more so, since he was tracking the killer so relentlessly. A bloody mess a typical British citizen would say of the matter.

  The killer has arrived at the fabulous Claridge hotel, parks the Aston Martin in front, walks into the main entrance and approaches the front desk clerk. She tells him that her husband is staying here and that she wants to surprise him. Also, she orders a fresh pot of coffee to be sent up to the room. The front desk clerk obliges her and gives her card key for 706 which is Michael Cradle’s room.

  She takes an elevator from the hotel lobby to the seventh (7) floor and proceeds down the hallway to Cradle’s room marked 706 on the door.

  The killer slides the card key and it turns green giving her access to his room. She noticed remnants of the full English breakfast that Cradle had eaten several hours ago.

  A loud knock at the door, “Room service” porter said. She hurriedly open the door and exchanges the cold pot of coffee with the new fresh, hot pot of coffee and he leaves with it. She quickly closes the door and goes to work. The fresh pot of coffee is placed on the table in the exact location as the previous one.

  She removes a small vial of liquid from her Louis Vuitton purse and pours the entire vial of a substance in the nice hot pot of coffee. She figures that Cradle will be knocked out for several hours and she can make her quick getaway from London to Paris.

  A few minutes later, she leaves Cradle room, catches the elevator back down to the lobby and turns the card key back into the front desk clerk. She slides him a tip of $20.00 USD and exits out of the main entrance. “Thank you.” The front desk flashed the biggest smile at her as she walks away heading to the main door.

  As she exits through the Claridge main entr
ance, gets back into her Aston Martin and speeds away.

  Cradle is finally parking the Lincoln after almost being stuck in traffic for hour. No need for him to stop at the front desk. He proceeds straight up to his room via elevator and walks down the hall and slides his key and enters his room. Nothing appears to be out of place since the murderer has entered his room and left. He sat down in a brown leather wing chair, poured himself a cup of coffee. Hot, black and strong is how Cradle likes his coffee. The coffee’s fresh full aroma, and hotness is definitely appeals to his palate.

  He took a large sip of the black coffee, rocked forward and back. The chair was stationary, he created the rocking motion with his own body. He continued moving around the room until a painful whine from deep inside came from his lips and nose and caused him to violently throw his head forward, then back against the chair, He looked across the bed at a nearby table.