Killed: Mystery Suspense (Alaska Mysteries #3)

by S. C. King

  MYSTERY: Killed

  (A Suspense Thriller Mystery novella)

  Alaska Mysteries, Book 3

  S. C. King

  Mystery Thriller Suspense Publications House

  MYSTERY: Killed (A Suspense Thriller Mystery novella)

  Alaska Mysteries, Book 3

  Copyright 2015 S. C. King, Mystery Thriller Suspense Publications House

  License Note:

  Thank you for purchasing this e-book. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes without permission from the author.

  If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy online where they can also discover many other works by this author.

  Thank you for your support.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Thank You

  Booklist

  Chapter 1

  Sergeant Wood was worried, but also excited about being called to his first murder scene. Lately, his work had consisted of mostly pet robberies and small drunken fights. Strangely or not, Stronghill, Alaska, wasn’t the most exciting place for a police officer. Detective Davis kept telling him to be glad about it, but Wood still craved the excitement that came with a good and complicated case.

  So when his phone rang that morning, he was quick to jump into his car and drive to the first murder scene he was going to witness in Stronghill. George Lowson had called to say that he had found his son murdered in his own bed. Wood knew both the father and the son, and was sorry to hear the tragic news.

  The elder Lowson was a very prominent mystery writer, who had brought a lot of fame to the small Alaska town with his stories about murders and murderers. Wood personally had read all of his novels, and found them very interesting and stimulating. But the truth was that nothing could really prepare you for the death of someone close to you, especially for the death of your child.

  He arrived at the Lowson house in less than five minutes, but Detective Davis was already there to greet him. “Wood,” he said in his usual gruff voice. “It is nice to see you again.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Wood answered politely, also very glad to see the older detective. “But what are you doing here?”

  “Lowson is my friend,” David explained. “He called me, and I came.”

  “But it is at least one hour drive from Fairbanks,” the young sergeant mentioned

  “Oh, I was already coming to see you, Charlie,” he smiled at him. “It was a pure coincidence that the murder happened when I was already in town.”

  “I am glad you are here, sir,” Wood thought it necessary to repeat, and followed him into the house.

  George Lowson was living in a big, two story building, constructed in a modern style and consisting mostly of wood and glass. The front door was an artistic creation, representing one of Picasso’s best paintings in glass and mirrors, while the vestibule was an empty space, made to seem infinite by the play of the same elements.

  “What is this place?” Wood asked, although he had passed it every day on his way to work.

  “Artists, what do you expect from them?” David dismissed it all, and proceeded towards the glass stairs that led to the second floor. “The murder happened in Rick’s room. According to the father, he had been in there for almost twenty four hours.”

  They walked inside the room to find it in perfect order with only a few clothes thrown on a chair and a laptop left on the nightstand. Rick Lowson was lying on the bed, covered by a blanket and looking as if he was asleep. The father, George Lowson, was sitting in a chair near the bed crying and looking destroyed.

  “George,” Davis called and walked into the room. “Sergeant Wood is here, and shortly the medical examiner and the rest of the police officers will arrive.”

  “You should be careful,” the grieving father warned them. “It must still be somewhere in here.”

  Wood was ready to dismiss his words as something the pain had made him say, but Davis wasn’t so sure. The detective started looking around the room, and motioned for Wood to stay back. “What am I looking for, George?” he asked after a while.

  “A black mamba,” the man muttered, and continued to look at his son.

  “A black mamba?” Wood exclaimed. “How would a black mamba get in here?”

  “Isn’t that what you should find out, sergeant?” the mystery writer asked, and once again dismissed both of them.

  “Here it is!” Davis exclaimed right then, forcing Wood to pay more attention to what he was doing. The detective stood still near the window, pointing at something hidden behind a small desk. He walked a bit forwards, still keeping a safe distance, and took the designer looking waste bin, emptying its contents. Then he approached the desk, and almost threw the bin on the floor.

  “Did you catch it?” Mr. Lowson asked from his place near the bed.

  “Yes,” Davis said, still excited. “It is under the waste bin.”

  “What does it mean?” Wood asked.

  “It means that we have the murderer, sergeant. All we need now is to find the one who put it in here to do this dirty job.”

  Rick Lowson had been a twenty five years old young man with a very promising career in front of him. Contrary to his father, Rick was working hard to become a lawyer just like his mother was. He had been a child of a divorced family for most of his life, and his parents were using him to fight their own battles. Rick liked spending time with both of his parents, and the last week had been staying with his father, while preparing for a difficult case.

  Mr. Lowson had arrived this morning to find him still in bed, while he had been supposed to be presenting his case in the court. He had thought that the young man might be sick, and unfortunately had found him dead in his bed.

  “Rick was already cold, when I arrived,” George explained to the two policemen. “The moment I touched him, I knew that there was nothing I could do for him.”

  “How did you know about the snake? Did you see it?” Wood asked from his place near the window.

  “No,” the grieving father said, sobbing. “But I recognized the clues. Everything in here is like in my book, they killed my son, the way I killed one of my fictional characters.”

  Chapter 2

  Wood felt sorry for the man, who had lost his only child, but it wasn’t the right moment to lose any more time. So, he left the two friends together and went to the big library. He had seen in one of the room on his way up here. The room was very spacious, and there were multiple volumes stacked on beautiful wooden shelves. The sergeant was quickly able to find George Lowson’s books and the one he needed – Murder passion.

  He remembered it very well, but he needed a solid confirmation of what the father and he were suspecting.

  The room was dark, as the sun still wasn’t up, when the inspector walked into it. The father and mother of the boy were sitting near the bed and looking stunned by grief. The inspector walked around the room, looking for clues and already dreading the consequences of what had happened.

  The boy looked very pale and although he was lying in bed, as if asleep, everyone could tell that he hasn’t been breath
ing for a while now. The inspector was called to the scene very early in the morning, but even he could tell that it was almost twenty four hours since the boy was alive.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” he softly asked the parents.

  “We found him like that this morning,” the father explained. “We were away for a wedding the last two days and when we returned, we found Evan lying in bed like that.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “No,” the grieving father answered. “But, we hope that the doctor will tell us.”

  “Was your son sick or something?”

  “No...”

  “Do you know of him having any problems?”

  “No...”

  “What about work? Was he having problems there?”

  “My son just recently finished college, and was going to start to work with his uncle in the fall...”

  “Look there!” the mother exclaimed just then, and the two men looked at the shadows under the bed. Something long and dark was moving under there.

  “What is that?” the inspector asked, and bent down to have a better look. “God, this is a snake!”

  As it turned out, it wasn’t just any snake, but the notorious black mamba, one of the most poisonous snakes in the world. No one had any idea how the mamba appeared in a simple household in Nevada, and there were no visible signs of a break-in or forced entry.

  “Can you tell me more about your son?” the inspector asked, hoping to learn more about the boy and his habits. He was already sure that there was something very sinister behind his murder, something that had to do with more than his school, work, or friends.

  “He was a good boy and a wonderful son,” the father started. “We didn’t always see eye to eye, but mostly we went along. Evan had an artistic nature, and I am more of a practical man, you see. When he finished school, it was me who insisted that he goes to work with his uncle. Evan wanted to try and make it as a writer.”

  The words trailed off, and the inspector could see how difficult it was for the father to speak about the past. He was probably feeling guilty for trying to manipulate his son, and now it was too late to change things.

  Wood started reading faster after that paragraph, in a desperate search for something else that looked like his murder case.

  The mamba was delivered in the mail...

  The boy was alone in the house...

  His friends loved him and he had no difficulties working for his uncle...

  The mother wasn’t speaking, but something in her behavior looked like she was accusing the father...

  There were no clues left at the murder scene...

  The police were desperate...

  The murder victim had been drugged before being bitten by the snake...

  The father was the murderer...

  “Isn’t all this just lovely?” Wood murmured to himself, and went to make a few notes in his notebook. It all seemed very similar, but the fact that in the book the father turned out to be the murderer was changing everything. To everyone who knew George Lowson, it was clear that he couldn’t hurt his son, no matter what.

  The man was a gentle person, who took part in all local charity events and even helped the local scout organization. He was universally known for his good character and big heart. Wood was convinced that, if someone made the killing look like the one described in the book, it was with the sole purpose to make the father look guilty.

  Chapter 3

  Wood’s next step was to learn more about the murder weapon. He could see that the black mamba was playing a very important role in the whole situation, and he needed to learn all about it. Google was as good as any other information source, so the sergeant opened the laptop and started reading.

  “The black mamba is a venomous snake endemic to sub-Saharan Africa and was first described in 1864 by Albert Günther. Despite its common name, the black mamba takes its name not from the color of its scales, but from the interior of its mouth, which is inky-black. It is the longest species of venomous snake in the continent with a length typically ranging from 2 meters to 3 meters and up to 4.3 to 4.5 meters. It is among the fastest moving snakes in the world, capable of moving at 11 km/h over short distances.”

  ...

  “Black mambas breed annually, and mating occurs in the early spring. Females lay eggs, which gestate over 80 to 90 days before hatching. Juvenile black mambas are lighter in color than adults, and darken with age. Although mambas are typically tree-dwelling snakes, the black mamba is only occasionally arboreal, preferring to build lairs in terrestrial habitats. The black mamba is found across a range of terrain from savannah, woodlands, rocky slopes, and dense forests. It is diurnal and chiefly an ambush predator, known to prey on hyrax, bushbabies and other small mammals. Adult black mambas have few predators in the wild.”

  ...

  “The venom of the black mamba is highly toxic; potentially causing a collapse in humans within 45 minutes, or less. Without effective antivenom therapy, death typically occurs in 7–15 hours. Its venom is chiefly composed of neurotoxins, specifically dendrotoxin. The black mamba is capable of striking at considerable range, and occasionally may deliver a series of bites in rapid succession. Despite its reputation for being very aggressive, like most snakes, it usually attempts to flee from humans unless threatened or cornered.”

  “Now this is an effective way to kill someone,” Wood murmured, while closing the laptop and walking back up the stairs.

  The scene in the bedroom had changed drastically since his last visit. Now it was full of policemen and medical examiners, as well us a few forensic specialists. The black mamba was taken care of a wildlife protector, and the room was searched carefully for any other dangerous animals.

  Davis was talking to the doctor, when Wood approached and joined the conversation. “The bite of a black mamba can deliver almost 120 mg of venom,” the doctor was saying. “Before they made the antivenom, whoever was bitten died in the matter of ten hours.”

  “What are the symptoms of the mamba bite?” Wood asked, after consulting with his notes.

  “Headache, metallic taste in the mouth, perspiration, and salivation,” the doctor explained. “But, without appropriate treatment, symptoms typically progress to more severe reactions such as neurogenic shock, leading to death by asphyxiation, cardiovascular collapse, or respiratory failure.”

  “But, the victim is still able to talk, walk, and call for help at the beginning?” Wood insisted.

  “Yes, the bite is not very painful and until later, the victim can do almost everything he or she needs to.”

  “Doctor,” Wood said gravely. “I think that you should examine the body for drugs.”

  “I will, when we are back in the morgue,” the doctor said surprised.

  “Can’t you look at him now, and at least tell us if that is possible?”

  “Let me see,” the doctor said, and went back to the bed, where the body was lying.

  “What is this all about?” Davis asked, while following the sergeant.

  “Remember that Mr. Lowson said that the murder looks a lot like the one described in his book? I went through it, and found out that the victim had been drugged before the snake bit him.”

  “You are right,” the doctor called at them. “There are signs of heavy drug use just before the snake bite. And if I am not mistaken, whoever drugged him was a very strong man.”

  The policemen could see a clear handprint on the upper arm of the victim, just above a needle mark also visible for them to see.

  “So, the victim was unconscious during the time he was bitten, and the poison destroyed his system?”

  “You are right, sergeant, we have a murder case to investigate in here,” the doctor confirmed. “But, tell me, how did you know about the drugs?”

  “I read about it in Mr. Lowson murder mystery book...”

  Chapter 4

  “I found him this morning,” Mr. Lowson said during the official interview. “I was
invited to a book signing, and I stayed at a hotel for the night, as the event ended well after midnight.”

  “Was it planned for you to stay there?” Davis asked, while Wood took notes.

  “No, I was supposed to return home.”

  “Who knew about your plans?”

  “Everyone who asked me or worked with me. It wasn’t a secret.”

  “What was your son doing, when you left him in here that day?” David continued to ask carefully chosen questions, making sure to watch George’s facial expressions and his body reaction to them.

  “He was working... he arrived here a few days ago, saying that he needed some quiet time to work on his case...” Mr. Lowson explained calmly. “This wasn’t the first time he did that, so I did what I always do, let him do his work and continued with my life as per usual. All Rick needed from me was to remind him about food and rest.”

  “Were there other people coming to visit during the time he was staying with you?”

  “A few local boys, who have been Rick’s friends for years. They came Saturday night to watch a game together.”

  “We would need their names and addresses,” Sergeant Wood spoke, while continuing to write into his notebook. “Also, we need the name of your hotel, and the identity of the people you spent the night with.”

  “I can have everything ready for you in no time,” Lowson smiled sadly. “You suspect me, don’t you, sergeant? I suppose it was to be expected considering my book and all the little things, which connects the murder of my son to it. But, tell me what is my motive?”

  “Fame,” Wood answered immediately. “After this case, your book would become the most famous one in the country. Nothing like life imitating art, right?”

  “I never thought about it this way, but I suppose you are right...”

  “We have to consider all possibilities, George,” Davis said. “Can you tell us more about your book?”

  “Murder passion is my most successful mystery novel so far,” Mr. Lowson explained. “It is about a problematic family, where the father is the one committing the murder.”