Whisper For The Reaper: A spine tingling murder mystery (Detective Inspector Declan Walsh Book 4)

by Jack Gatland

  ‘What do you mean?’ this threw Declan. Karl’s eyes widened in surprise.

  ‘I thought you knew?’ he replied. ‘The image, the man with the hat, with the scythe? It is an Ampelmännchen.’

  Declan recognised the name, but couldn’t remember where from. Luckily Karl was still talking.

  ‘Your little stop go men on traffic lights?’ he continued. ‘Green man is go, red man is stop? In East Germany we had different images for the little men. They still exist even now. A green man with a hat walking, and a red man with a hat, standing still, arms outstretched. Ampelmännchen.’

  He looked to the bottle again.

  ‘Müller created the image of the man with the scythe,’ he explained. ’Red man meant stop, and that was what the Reaper did. He stopped escapees. He even made this into a badge, forced us to wear it when on duty with him, when he flipped that lie of a coin to satisfy his conscience, as he fed his lust for blood.’

  ‘Wait,’ Declan was confused now. ‘Are you saying that Wilhelm Müller is the Red Reaper?’

  Karl nodded. ‘Was,’ he replied. ‘I learned years later, through your father in fact, that Müller had followed me across Europe, and had killed people. Patrick showed me the cards, and I was living here when Craig Randall and Dorothy Brunel died.’

  Declan understood this; he’d seen Dotty Brunel as one of the victims when Freeman had shown the files to him earlier that day. She’d died in 2010, two years before Craig.

  ‘Did you know either of them?’

  ‘Yes,’ Karl replied sadly. ‘I knew both. Dorothy and Craig’s father had both used my garage. In fact, all the people who died had crossed my path over the years. It was as if Wilhelm had decided that anyone who spoke to me, who befriended me, had to be punished.’

  Declan leaned back at this. ‘People like my mum.’

  At this Karl’s eyes started to tear up. ‘I knew I had said the wrong thing when we toasted your parents,’ he replied. ‘That I said murder. Because that was what it was. Patrick was away for ten minutes and that monster ended her life. That was when we decided that the law would fail in stopping Wilhelm Müller. That was when we took matters into our own hands.’

  ‘You and my father became vigilantes?’ Declan was shocked at this.

  ‘None of the victims could be linked to him. None of the victims could be proven even as murder. Your father was angry, frustrated, and now his wife, who was already dying, was taken from him rather than passing at her time. The police would not help us.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘First, because there was no proof of murder. But also because Wilhelm Müller was untouchable, a ghost.’

  Declan shook his head. ‘I don’t get what you mean.’

  ‘I heard, years later, that Müller also changed his name when he left Berlin,’ he explained. ‘But it wasn’t the Stasi that gave him a new identity. It was the Americans.’

  ‘But why would—‘ Declan stopped himself. There was only one real reason the American government would give someone like Müller a new identity. ‘He became an informant for them.’

  Karl nodded. ‘More than that. He gave testimony, provided documents that took down many prominent people. He was given a new life, and more importantly, he was given a kind of diplomatic immunity. Müller was no diplomat, but if they accused him of any crimes, his documents would ensure that rather than going to trial, he would disappear once more, under another alias.’

  ‘Christ,’ Declan swirled the last of the half pint of Guinness in his hand as he considered this. ‘The ultimate get out of jail free card.’

  ‘And if the Americans refused, he still had paperwork on people who had risen up over the years, enough to ensure that they would also ensure his survival,’ Karl muttered. ‘As Stasi officers burned folders, he was collecting as many as he could.’

  He looked up.

  ‘Patrick could not stop him by legal means. However, there were always other options.’

  ‘I’m guessing that before he could do this, Müller killed him,’ Declan replied. Karl frowned.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

  ‘My father’s car accident,’ Declan stated. ‘They found a card in the glove compartment, complete with his fingerprints on it. And the body at the golf club, Nathanial Wing? He also had a card. Looks like Müller has returned to carry on this, well, whatever this is.’

  Karl shook his head. ‘That cannot be,’ he exclaimed. ‘These murders, if truly a Red Reaper? They have to be of a copycat, or someone else.’

  Declan leaned forwards, intrigued. ‘Why would you think that?’ he asked.

  Karl looked him in the eyes, and Declan almost shuddered at the coldness within them.

  ‘Because we killed Wilhelm Müller and hid his body five years ago.’

  8

  Organised For Crime

  Jess was in the living room, working through piles of A4 printouts, when Declan arrived back home.

  ‘You sort out what you needed to sort out?’ She asked, looking up briefly before returning to the organisation of sheets of paper. Declan took off his jacket as he walked over to join her, sitting on the sofa as he watched his daughter at work.

  ‘Monroe and Anjli are in, and Doctor Marcos is already checking through the autopsy of Nathanial Wing,’ Declan sat back in the seat, moving his neck to loosen his shoulder. It was aching after overexertion. When preparing the bullet wound, the doctors had told him to be careful when using it, and he’d been driving a lot recently. ‘Can’t get hold of Billy though.’ He was still watching Jess. ‘Get home okay?’

  ‘Morten brought me here on his bike,’ Jess replied.

  ‘So it’s Morten now, is it?’ Declan grinned. Jess’s crush had been obvious; as obvious as the reddening of her cheeks as she realised what she’d said.

  ‘I mean PC De’Geer,’ she blustered. ‘Don’t worry, he didn’t come in.’

  ‘You want some dinner?’ Declan reached for the phone. ‘I could call in pizza?’

  ‘Sure, as long as it’s Vegan,’ Jess was now moving to a stapler, binding the small piles of paper together. ‘Can I get this done first though? I don’t want to get tomato sauce on any of the pages.’

  ‘What are you doing, anyway?’ Declan leaned over now, picking up one of the piles. It looked very much like the case files that Freeman had showed him earlier that day.

  ‘While I was waiting for you, I went and had a look around granddad’s study,’ Jess explained. ‘I remembered you saying that he always kept copies of his cases and assumed that it’d be the same here. I found them all under R for Reaper.’

  Declan flicked through the pages. All twelve crime reports, mostly half investigated and believed to be suicides, all with his father’s familiar penmanship scrawled beside them.

  ‘It’s not all of them,’ he muttered. When Jess looked back questioningly, Declan realised he’d spoken out loud and forced a smile, waving to the sheets.

  ‘How did you print them?’ he asked, changing the subject. ‘Dad’s iMac was stolen a week and a half back, and I had my laptop with me.’

  ‘I’m not a Luddite, dad,’ Jess chided him. ‘I have my iPad. Theres’s a scanning app on it. You take a photo of every page and it turns them into PDF copies. I then wirelessly printed five copies of each one.’ She frowned. ‘Will five copies be enough? I have it as a digital file too.’

  ‘I didn’t even know dad had a printer here,’ Declan ruffled Jess’s jet black hair as he read through the report. ‘Did you read these?’

  Jess nodded. ‘Every two years,’ she said, pointing at the first crime report. ‘If these are all correct, he started in 1990 and killed someone every two years from then, all the way to 2012 and Craig Randall.’

  ‘You believe he killed them?’

  ‘You believe it, and I believe you. And granddad did too.’ Jess almost jumped as she remembered something. ‘Oh, mum called. She said you need to remember that I have exams this year and I’m not to sit around doing nothing
.’

  ‘She has a point,’ Declan looked at the paperwork. ‘As much as I appreciate this, you need to finish your schoolwork first.’

  ‘It’s half term,’ Jess started piling the piles of sheets together. ‘And I’ve already done everything they gave me. And besides, this is on-the-job experience, isn’t it?’

  Declan watched his daughter as she hurriedly bundled the paper together. ‘What’s really the matter?’ he asked softly.

  Jess stopped and audibly sighed; the sigh of a teenager was something that only a parent truly understood, and this was a sigh that Declan had heard many times over the years.

  ‘I don’t think I like Robert,’ she admitted. Declan nodded at this; Robert, or ‘Robbie’ Brookfield was an old friend of Declan and Liz’s, and a couple of weeks earlier Robbie had contacted Declan out of the blue, primarily to ask for Declan’s permission in asking Liz out on a date. It wasn’t phrased as such, but Declan knew what it was.

  ‘He’s just dating your mum,’ Declan said, putting an arm around Jess. ‘When he wants to be called ‘dad’, you can hate him. He’s genuinely a good man.’

  He frowned.

  ‘What is it you don’t like about him?’

  ‘He’s not you,’ Jess muttered. ‘You weren’t supposed to stay away, you were supposed to both realise that you couldn’t live without each other, and get back together.’

  Declan laughed at this. ‘I love your mum, and she loves me,’ he replied. ‘But, sometimes that’s not enough for a marriage. The job kept me away for long hours. And when I had to make a choice, I made the wrong one.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jess muttered again; a judgement more than a response.

  ‘If you want this life, Jess, it’s a choice that you too will have to make at some point,’ Declan continued. ‘This isn’t a career. It’s a vocation. A calling.’

  Jess nodded, understanding this even if she wasn’t happy about it.

  ‘Are you dating anyone?’ she asked. Declan had a twinge of regret at the question; there had been someone, but she was dead now. How did he explain this to his daughter?

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘I’m not currently dating anyone.’ It wasn’t a lie, just a response that kept to the rules of grammar. Jess, however, had noted the slight delay and pressed on.

  ‘Were you dating anyone?’ she asked again, adjusting the question. ‘Kendis Taylor, maybe?’

  ‘Why would you think that?’ Declan asked. Jess shrugged.

  ‘Maybe because you were plastered all over the news as her terrorist handler?’ she continued. ‘Maybe because her husband apparently punched you out beside her grave a couple of days ago?’

  Declan groaned inwardly. Of course Jess would hear about that. The whole bloody village was probably still going on about that. ‘It wasn’t beside her grave,’ he corrected. ‘It was beside your granddad’s grave.’

  ‘Oh,’ deadpanned Jess. ‘Because that makes it totally different.’

  Declan sighed. She was right. And she had a right to know.

  ‘I love your mum, and I always will,’ Declan started. ‘But Kendis was my first love. We had a bond, of sorts. But then I didn’t see her for years. Down the line I married Liz, we had you… Life went on.’ He thought before speaking, phrasing his words now. ‘Kendis was working with granddad, on his book, and that’s how we got back into contact. But I passed her information on a case and that led her down a rabbit hole, one that eventually ended with her death.’ He knew it wasn’t a complete lie, but Jess didn’t need to know about the one-night stand right now. She didn’t need to know that Kendis was considering leaving Pete for Declan, and that she was torn between two loves. Or, more likely, that she wasn’t leaving Pete, and had played Declan like a fiddle for one last roll in the sheets.

  ‘Pete punched me because I caused her death,’ he finished. ‘And I deserved it. I deserved more.’

  There was a moment of silence as Jess stared at her father in surprise.

  ‘I thought you were having an affair,’ she eventually said. Declan forced a smile, ignoring the voice in his head.

  It was an affair. And you bloody well know it, you hypocrite.

  ‘I know,’ he replied. ‘And you’re old enough to know the truth.’ He stopped. She was old enough to know the truth; all of it.

  ‘I have something else to tell you,’ he leaned forward now, taking Jess’ hand, stopping her from bundling any more sheets of paper. ‘But it’s between us, okay? No telling mum. She’ll only worry, and you don’t want that.’

  Jess turned to face her father now, her face a mask of concern. ‘What is it?’

  Declan took a deep breath and, over the next half hour told his daughter about the conversation he’d had with Karl Schnitter earlier that day, including the information he’d been passed about the possible murders of his parents, her grandparents, and what had eventually happened to the murderer.

  When he finished, neither of them were in the mood for pizza anymore.

  ‘Two catch ups in one week? I am feeling spoiled,’ Billy smiled as he sat down opposite Anjli in the upstairs bar of The Old Crown on Fleet Street. ‘I got the impression from the text that something important was going down.’

  ‘You’d know if you’d read your email,’ Anjli sipped at her drink as she watched her friend’s reaction. ‘But it seemed to bounce from your City Police address. Any reason?’

  ‘They’re changing the emails,’ Billy lied smoothly. ‘More of a cybercrime domain. Your email must have gotten lost in the moving.’

  ‘Awesome,’ Anjli pulled out a notebook and pen, passing it over to Billy. ‘Write your new email down then, please.’

  Billy stared at the notebook as if it was a poisonous viper and, with no comment coming from him, Anjli continued.

  ‘I mean I’d love to see how you have an email considering you gave in your notice and walked out,’ she said, crossing her arms. ‘All ears.’

  Billy groaned. ‘How did you find out?’ he asked.

  ‘Monroe tried to contact you,’ Anjli’s expression didn’t waver as she faced her friend. ‘Christ, Billy, what the hell are you playing at?’

  ‘I don’t think the force is for me,’ Billy muttered, looking out of the window beside them, looking out onto the lamp-lit street. ‘I’m just not the running, jumping, climbing trees type, you know?’

  ‘But that’s why you asked for cybercrime!’ Anjli exploded, finally unable to hold back her anger. ‘When they said we were being seconded, you asked for it!’

  ‘I asked for it because I needed space!’ Billy snapped back.

  ‘Space from what?’

  ‘Space from you!’

  There was a silence in the upstairs bar. The other drinkers were now looking at Anjli and Billy, their drinks paused mid rise. Anjli pulled her warrant card out, waving it around before speaking.

  ‘Anyone want to comment on our conversation? Happy to have a chat.’

  The other drinkers returned to their own conversations, and Anjli looked back to Billy, who looked appalled at his own outburst.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ he explained. ‘I mean all of you. The Last Chance Saloon. I… Look,’ he leaned forward. ‘I came from cyber, I was a desk jockey. And then, under Monroe, I’m out in the field. That’s fine, but then I have SCO 19 rifles aimed at me outside Devington House, we’re racing red lights to save Monroe from an execution, I’m going undercover with a murderer, one that tried to shoot me and was brutally shot down in front of us…’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘I could have died, Anjli,’ he whispered. ‘Frost wanted to kill me. I was so cocky, so ‘ah gotcha’ and he was going to execute me. He could have killed Declan. He almost did.’

  ‘Don’t be a drama queen,’ Anjli smiled. ‘He grazed Declan’s shoulder. I’ve had worse playing rugby. Well, obviously not worse than a gunshot, but you get the idea.’ She grabbed at Billy's hand, holding it tight. ‘You’re a good copper, Billy Fitzwarren. You’re an excellent copper, even. Nobody I know
is better than you with a laptop and a wireless connection. We need you.’

  ‘Who’s the we here?’ Billy murmured. ‘Mile End still looking for a computer whizz after Sonya Hart was arrested?’

  ‘Actually, I’m not at Mile End anymore,’ Anjli replied. ‘I’m taking some time off for personal reasons.’

  ‘Wait, is your mum okay?’ Billy looked concerned for Anjli; he knew that her mother had been battling cancer for a while now. Anjli patted his hand.

  ‘She’s super fine,’ she assured Billy. ‘We think the chemo did its job. I owe… well, let’s say that I owe some people for getting her the best care, but we look to be kicking it into remission.’

  ‘So why the personal reasons?’

  ‘It’s a term I could use when talking to DCI Espinosa and guarantee him not asking questions,’ Anjli replied. ‘I’m heading up to Hurley tomorrow to help Declan with a case.’

  ‘Declan has a case?’ Billy leaned back now, confused. ‘I thought he was suspended? Or on some kind of injury list that was as good as being suspended?’

  ‘For City Police duties, but not Thames Valley,’ Anjli picked up her drink again, sipping at it. ‘He’s got an old serial killer case of his dad’s that’s come back. The police are claiming it’s some kind of suicide game, not murder, but they’ve allowed Declan to get a small team together and look into it.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ Billy chuckled at this. ‘The team is basically the Last Chance Saloon?’

  ‘Pretty much,’ Anjli nodded. ‘And his daughter, Jess. Don’t ask.’

  Billy looked around the bar in realisation. ‘This isn’t a drink, is it?’ he asked cautiously. ‘This is a sodding recruitment session! You knew I wasn’t with the police anymore and you’re trying to poach me back!’

  ‘I’ll admit, we could use you,’ Anjli admitted. ‘Declan and Monroe are one step above primates when it comes to computers.’

  ‘I’d love to, but I can’t,’ Billy looked away. ‘I can’t go out in the field. It’s too much to ask.’

  ‘Actually, I didn’t want you in the field,’ Anjli shrugged. ‘To be honest, I’m always holding your bloody hand. I was thinking you could hold the fort at the hotel, maybe use the spa—‘