Murder Backstage: Detectives Ruskin & Ashley Gripping Murder Mystery

by Michael Sivyer

  Mike briefly disappeared from the room before re-entering with a plastic evidence bag in his right hand, a photograph tucked between the fingers of his left.

  “So, this isn't your gun?” asked Mike, dropping the weighty grip of the revolver onto the table with a colossal thud before slamming the photo onto the desk next to it, “Or your car?”

  The colour appeared to drain from Fenton's cheeks as he stared speechlessly at the evidence.

  “I... I swear detective. I didn't do this. I... I don't know who by, but I'm being framed.”

  Mike paused. It did appear to be a little too perfectly aligned but then again, evidence doesn't usually lie.

  “Give me a reason to believe you,” Growled Mike, “It's not like you've been perfectly honest with me in the past.”

  “The restaurant, I was there all the way through the opera, or so I've heard. That's got to account for something, right? How can I be in two places at once?”

  Two places at once. Two places at once? Mike's mind snapped back to Adrianna. She had quite literally been in two places at once. How had this not been screaming at him in the past? He needed to find Adrianna now. This case had taken yet another interesting turn.

  Chapter Six

  Mike emerged from the questioning chamber and made a beeline towards Andy, whom was supposedly finishing on some paperwork, though he found his colleagues throat deep in another coffee, with a rather large grin on his face as if he was rather proud of something.

  “Any chance we can get a traffic cam on Fenton's car? Maybe we can work out what time it arrived at the scene, Y'know, as much as the bloke's a grade A bastard, I'm not so sure that he did it.” Mike held his breath – he knew that it was unlikely, however as traffic cameras would only be triggered if they spotted a driver going about his or her business unlawfully.

  “I already beat you to it,” Grinned Mike, “But I warn you, we've got a little bit of hunting to do.”

  “A little hunting, that sounds... intriguing.”

  “Well, the thing is... I ran the car through the system again, and it turns out that a speeding ticket was issued in the early hours of the morning... just after Vickers placed the time of death.”

  “So, in other words, the car wasn't there when she was dead? But why would he be driving to the crime scene in the first place?”

  “Unless he wasn't – Take a look at this. It's not the clearest, but I had Jason enhance it.”

  Mike took the photo in his hands, the driver appeared to be chubby, a fair amount heavier than Fenton, and several freckles coloured the skin around his nose. Mike's almost mechanical brain began to whir as if running through a database of every person that he had seen in the past week. He closed his eyes as he remembered the person's face, trying to place the correct scenery around him. It came to him in a flash.

  “Andy, we're going for a manhunt at the hotel. I've seen that guy, he works there. He didn't kill Sandy – he was there too late – but I'll bet he knows who did and I'll bet that it's Adrianna. It's a little bit too much of a coincidence that she was in two places at once. It's fucking alien to me why somebody would kill another human just to get a starring role in a new show.”

  They saddled up once more, both happy to rack up some overtime as they were supposed to have gone home several hours ago, neither of them could resist staying late to resolve a case this close to its conclusion – there was just something so mentally stimulating about cracking down on these cases. They pulled out of the station and into the flow of the city's traffic, which was now beginning to die down as the commuting traffic drained from the city.

  They arrived at the hotel hopefully for the last time. Leaving the car on the pavement outside the lobby's revolving door, they burst through it one after another. Mike, having left his favourite tattered jacket at the office, was glad of the warmth, though even had he been wearing the jacket to begin with, it wouldn't have made much of a difference thanks to its many ripped holes. Andy saw it as somewhat of an opportunity to get his colleague wearing fashionable clothes, and was already planning to buy his partner a replacement jumper should they crack the case this evening.

  They stood at the entrance, their eyes scanning the hotel's bustling tea-time crowds for the young man. The lobby was a sea of vivid colours as many women wearing ball-gowns patrolled the floor due to the event which was announced by a glamorous banner that swooped from balcony to balcony. It wasn't that hard to spot him as his colourful work-wear stuck out like a sore thumb on the backdrop of tuxedos.

  “Grab him,” Whispered Andy, nodding towards him, “I'll go around the side.”

  Andy disappeared back out into the cold darkness of the night whilst Mike advanced towards his prey, stealthily mingling in with the crowd as his hand gripped the steely, chilling grip of his badge, ready to announce himself.

  Mike pulled his badge once he was within a few meters of the young concierge worker. He could smell his sweaty fear, even from his position, and therefore decided that the best route to go down would be the 'scare tactic' option to get the teen to spill his guts on whom had gotten him to plant the car as evidence.

  “POLICE!” Yelled Mike furiously, a ball of spit projecting from his mouth as his teeth snarled, “Hands where I can see them! NOW!”

  The poor young teen didn't know what to do, and his mind lost all sense of rationality as his body entered its mode of primal instinct, choosing to flee the quite frankly terrifying Mike, whom looked somewhat like a Halloween character with his ruffled hair and torn clothing.

  “Why do they always run?” Exclaimed Mike, largely unaware of quite how terrifying he could be.

  Unfortunately for the teen, whom had headed directly towards the side exit, the big burly frame of the waiting Andy was blocking his path, and he walked straight into the trap that the detectives had set for him. It seemed as if Mike's scare tactic was working, and his body trembled as they marched him towards the police car. The detectives could practically feel the whole car shake with his body as he cowered in the corner of the back seat.

  Mike turned his head over the front seat and glanced at the expressionless face of his victim.

  “You drove a white Mercedes the other day, correct?” He spoke in a sincere, yet direct tone.

  The young man caved instantaneously.

  “I didn't steal it officers, I swear! I swear I didn't! Please don't arrest me! I'll lose my job!”

  “Well if you didn't steal it, what's a luggage wheeler, no disrespect, like yourself doing behind the wheel of a car like that!? You were driving it like you stole it, too,” Mike continued, reaching into his pocket for the speed camera footage before dropping it on his lap, “Look at this!”

  “Some guy... Some old guy... He said it was a prank on his friend. He gave me a grand. Look, I've still got it, see for your self.” He reached into his pocket for his bulging wallet and gave it to the detectives. “He told me to park it outside the guy's house so he'd find it in the morning and gave me the cash. I'm sorry about the speeding ticket, officers, but I love cars and it was a black series AMG. do you know how fast those things go? I couldn't just let the beast under the bonnet lie dormant, I'll never get another chance to drive one of those again - like you said, I'm just a luggage boy. I swear! Please believe me!”

  Andy stepped in, assuming the role of good police officer. He could see that the boy was quite literally about to shit his pants and didn't want to have to take on the duty of cleaning out the patrol car at the end of the shift.

  “Look,” said Andy, “Normally we'd have to confiscate the cash as evidence, but we can't do that if the cash has already been spent, can we? Go buy yourself something nice with the money and you won't hear from us again kid. We just need to take a few details of what this guy looked like and then we're done.”

  Andy took a notebook from his pocket and jotted down the details that were being given to him, whilst Mike, meanwhile, memorised every detail and drew a mental portrait in his mind. They were now on
the hunt for a man in his fifties, with a foreign accent, a bushy beard and expensive clothes.

  They sent the boy on his way, Andy patting him on the back for the information that he had given them. Once Andy returned to the driver's seat he glanced towards Mike as his partner scratched his stubble, his mind trying to piece together the information that was available. He knew that Adrianna was involved somehow, but who was the other man? And what was the motive behind killing Sandra? Was it all just to get Adrianna her chance in the spotlight? As much as it seemed unlikely, it was still a possibility. But, in Mike's mind, as always, there was something bigger, something deeper, at play here. There were still several questions left unanswered, but the detectives were homing in.

  Something in Andy's mind suddenly clicked.

  “Adrianna's father was with her when they had their dinner with Fenton, right? He could be our foreign guy. We need to find out where they both are and round them up. If we find that young kid and get him to testify, and get proof that they brought that gun into the country, then we've got all the proof that we need.”

  Mike remembered a hunch the he had earlier on in the investigation about how he had thought that Fenton had paid the restaurant's owner to lie about the time of their meal. Perhaps he was right after-all, just not about the person who had paid him. It could be another vital piece of the puzzle, they just had to work out a way to press the guy's buttons, something that so happened to be Mike's speciality. It was now some way into the night, but the detectives didn't mind. Neither of them would have been able to sleep had they gone home anyway, they were on a roll and their minds were both wired as their excellent teamwork cracked down upon yet another criminal or two.

  They arrived at the restaurant a little after midnight. The patrons had long emptied from the fancy booths but the cleaners were still hard at work, polishing the surfaces for the next day of business. The detectives walked coolly through the glass doors and Andy spoke in a calm, yet confident voice.

  “Listen up! We're with the police force. Is Giovanni still here? We need to question him.”

  Fortunately, several of the cleaners look rather disgruntled and gave up their manager's whereabouts within seconds. They followed a young girl up a flight of steps behind the bar, and into a surprisingly grand corridor behind the facade of the restaurant. There were three doors – one leading to the staff room, another to the bathroom, and the final one to Giovanni's office.

  “So how much did he pay you?”

  “I'm sorry?”

  “Adrianna's father, the guy that paid you to lie”

  “I don't know what you are on about, sir!”

  “Let me help jog your memory. A girl died and this man had something to do with it. If you withhold information, that makes you accessory to murder. All that money he paid you won't do much good when you're in jail now, will it? So, I'll ask again. How much did he pay you to lie about the time of their meal?”

  The man sighed, scratching his forehead as he pondered whether to answer the detectives' question.

  Giovanni eventually rose to his feet, pacing the perimeter of the room nervously.

  “£5,000, he gave me £5,000.”

  “Great, now we're on terms of being honest, let me ask you a few more things. The girl, Adrianna, did she mention anything about going to the opera, or a girl named Sandy?”

  “Yes, she brought it up at the table. She and Sandy, they are quite good friends by the sound of it. Her father really didn't like her going, they had big argument.” Giovanni spoke in broken English, pausing for a moment before he gave the detectives more information, “He said that he needed his daughter to stay away from Sandy and told her that she would stay at hotel.”

  Mike turned to Giovanni, “And do you know what hotel is it that they're staying at?”

  “Yes.” Giovanni hobbled to the office window and pointed at the building opposite his own. “Just there.”

  Mike and Andy had everything they needed, that was apart from Adrianna's father himself. As they began to depart the restaurant, thunder rumbled the foundations of the building and the glass in the windows rattled as the street's electricity flickered on and off. Frozen droplets of water bombarded their bodies as they waded across the street, which began to fill with water with every passing second. They scurried to the shelter of the hotel, Andy lamenting the fact that the storm had ruined his hairstyle.

  They approached the reception desk with a photograph of Adrianna, placing it on the polished surface.

  “Good evening, do you recognise this girl?” Asked Andy politely, “We're looking for her father.”

  The receptionist, a younger woman, probably marginally older than college age, continued to chew her gum as she took the photograph rather unenthusiastically.

  “Yes,” She spoke with a raspy, smoker's voice, Andy ducking as to escape the projectile scent of ash that spewed from her lips, “Yes. They got a taxi to Gatwick not too long ago. I only remember 'cos the bloke was pretty much dragging her out.”

  “Right,” Spoke Andy, “And you didn't think to report this to the police?”

  “Nope, must have slipped my mind, it's been a busy night.”

  Mike and Andy peered around at the desolate lobby, the only individual in there other than themselves being an old woman whom had fallen asleep in an armchair to the side of the room.

  Deciding that they had other priorities than argue with slackers, Mike and Andy dashed to their car, Mike pulling out the squad car's radio, connecting to headquarters.

  “Possible hostage situation, victim is Adrianna Pirlo, suspect is her father named Dominic, middle aged male last seen heading towards Gatwick airport. Please send all available units.”

  Normally, Mike and Andy preferred to work independently, but when someone's life was at stake, it was a rather different situation. It was now a race against the clock, and they needed all the help that they could get before Dominic managed to leave the country.

  What irked Mike somewhat was Dominic's motive. What motive could be so powerful that somebody was willing to murder their daughter's friend?

  Andy switched a flick under the car's steering column; the ultimate key to the city. The car's siren toggled on and blared aloud, echoing off the street's walls as the car roared into action hurtling across the asphalt. No doubt there would be other squad cars closer to Gatwick which would more than likely get the collar on their suspect, but it would all be worth it to bring an end to this puzzling case. After being given V.I.P treatment by the other cars on the road, Mike and Andy skidded onto a slip-road blazing onto the motorway at white knuckle speeds. Andy, when the road allowed, glanced over towards Mike who seemed somewhat sheepish thanks to the speed of the car.

  Not too long later, they pulled up to Gatwick's terminal, a mass of flashing lights announcing the arrival of the police armada. They were a little too late to capture their suspect, but at the very least, the other officers were kind enough to allow Mike and Andy to take Dominic back to the station in their own car, allowing Mike to drill him as Andy took the least direct route possible back to the station. No matter how much Andy and Mike pushed, though, Dominic refused to share his motive with the detectives, leaving them in suspense.

  That was until they arrived at the police station, where Adrianna was still in the process of thanking the other officers for her rescue. Jason, still at the precinct, refusing to rest until the case was over much like Andy and Mike albeit in a much less interesting position, nodded towards the detectives as they entered through the elevator's doors, prompting Adrianna to turn and face them. She smiled bitter-sweetly, thanking the detectives for their work.

  “Do you have a moment to talk to us? We'd quite like to find the underlying cause of everything that happened. It's fine if you'd rather not, but your help would go a long way.” Andy spoke in his usual polite manner.

  “It's fine, you can ask me whatever you'd like. At least then I can put all of this behind me.”

  “Well, see, we
have all of the evidence that we need, but we'd rather like to work out what started all of this. Where did it all come from?”

  Andy invited Adrianna to take a seat as he carried out his usual routine of flipping out his notebook ready to take notes.

  Adrianna sighed. “It all started when I found out he was having an affair. I didn't know whether to tell my mother or keep the family together and mention nothing. Anyway, Sandra is one of my closest friends. Jonathan would make out that me and her were rivals, but that was only for publicity. Like they say, any publicity is good publicity. But Sandy was the one that wanted me to get that role. Anyway, back to the point. I spoke to Sandra about it. She was going to take it public, you know, she thinks that a person in my father's position should be exposed for who he really is. He would have lost everything.”

  Adrianna sighed, taking a brief pause as she sipped from her glass of water. The room was silent, aside from Andy's pen scratching away at the paper as the detectives listened to her without interrupting. Once she was ready, she continued after wiping a tear away from the soft, flawless skin of her cheek.

  “My father found out that she knew, and probably guessed what she was going to do. He...” She began to break out into a sob, “He... killed her. I tried to get away, I tried. But he'd held me captive, my own father, for the last week. I don't want anything to do with him.”

  “Thank you for your time, Adrianna,” Smiled Mike, fleeing the scene as he left Andy to deal with the sobbing woman, “I'll just go and get some paperwork finalised,” He lied through his gritted teeth.

  Mike sat in his beaten-up Volvo once more. It had been a roller-coaster of a case, with many false leads and turns. He glanced around at the Volvo's faded vomit coloured interior. He sighed, turning his eyes to the rows of Mercedes, Beamers, and Audis around him. Maybe it was time for an upgrade after-all. He twisted his key, the low rumble of his spluttering engine echoed around the car park. No, he couldn't possibly replace a car that had served him well for twenty years. There was too much history.