Promised Box Set

by James Kipling

  “So, Tracy. Do you mind telling me where you were between the last time Barry Scott was seen alive, and when Angela found him dead?”

  “Well,” said Tracy, “to be precise, I was in the bathroom, with Bethy Sanders.”

  “Right,” I said. “I’ll check up on that. Anyway, do you mind telling me about Barry Scott?”

  “I’m glad he’s dead, if that’s what you’re asking?” replied Tracy, “but I didn’t kill him, because my son would not have wanted it to be resolved in that way. Barry Scott would have suffered in prison. That’s where he should have gone—he’d have suffered more there!”

  I agreed with that line of thinking, but since that couldn’t be achieved, making him suffer a horrible, painful death would have been the next best thing. I didn’t need to know much else, because this was a rather simple case. I moved on quickly to Bethy Sanders, asking where she was, and Bethy said that she was in the bathroom with Tracy. I would need to think about that later on. Next to be interviewed was William Sanders, the brother of Bethy. He said that he was at a table with Linda. Linda said the same thing, although there were no witnesses to this, and the CCTV evidence was waiting to be recovered. Finally, Joseph Hart said that he was outside, taking some air. I was the most suspicious of him, although I couldn’t assume he was the killer. Evidence needed to be gathered.

  “Why don’t you just stop investigating this?” said Joseph, “he made a fool of you! Why don’t you just accept that justice has been done and let the killer get away with it!”

  “Because it’s my job, unfortunately,” I said, “and honestly, I don’t think a prison sentence would hurt any of you much more than you’ve already been hurt!”

  Joseph shut up after that.

  I returned home that night, and sat down with a nice glass of fresh orange juice—I had a big day ahead of me, so I needed to relax and get some rest while I had the time.

  Suddenly, I heard a noise at the door, and upon checking, found that a piece of paper had been shoved under the door. It’s half past ten at night! I opened the door to see who it was, but nobody was there, they had already vanished. Picking up the piece of paper, I read it.

  ‘Stop the investigation now or you will face the consequences.’

  Chapter 41

  The following morning was an early one. I barely slept, too busy debating with myself about whether or not going ahead with the investigation was the right thing to do. Ignoring the threat that I had received the night before, I thought about the morals of it all. On one hand, I should go ahead with the investigation, because it solves the murder of somebody, and that is what I am paid do. On the other hand, I should not, because that would upset the relatives of his victims and he had it coming anyway. It could have been argued that whoever killed Barry Scott was actually a good person, as doing a bad thing to a bad person cancels itself out, and therefore, a good person would have killed Barry Scott. However, in the end I decided to proceed a little while longer to see how things worked out.

  That morning at the station, the others were still reeling with excitement about what had happened the night before. Barry Scott was dead! I had to face the truth to myself—it was like a massive weight had been lifted from my shoulders, because I knew that I would have never given up fighting until he was behind bars, or at least, until justice was served. Then I thought about something—the night before, when I received the threatening note, where had I put it? I couldn’t remember what I did with it. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t remember much about the night before—was there a chance that I had dreamed it?

  I walked in the room, and the rest of the team sat in silence. A knife could cut through the atmosphere in here.

  “What’s the matter?” I said.

  “Look, we have nothing against you,” said Pam, after a few awkward seconds of silence, “but we think that doing the investigation is wrong.”

  “Didn’t we go through this last night?” I asked.

  “Just this once, let it be,” Pam said, as if she were giving an order.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to do that,” I said, “not yet, anyway.”

  “You look a little shaky,” Miranda said suddenly, even grinning slightly.

  “I’m fine,” Tammy replied.

  Miranda decided to put pressure a little pressure on me.

  “You sure about that?” she asked.

  “I’m fine!” said Tammy, “Anyway, I’m more than fine! I am happy that Barry Scott is dead, if that is any consolation to any of you!”

  Tammy then sat down.

  “I remember the times he was acting really smug,” said Graham Mitchell. “Well, we all had the last laugh, because he paid for what he did! I don’t care which of the five of them did it, but I hope they don’t get caught! They’ve lost their relatives, for crying out loud! Why would prison help them?”

  “Alright, you’ve made your point!” I exclaimed, feeling rather left out.

  “What kind of upbringing do you think he had?” asked Pam.

  “Probably sadistic,” I said, “judging from what we know about most serial killers.”

  “Libby...’what’s her name’ was not abused growing up. She was crazy!”

  “Who, oh well she was just one in a million,” I replied. “The vast majority of serial killers have been abused, and there is a tangible reason why they kill people.”

  “Now it’s that age old question,” said Miranda, jumping in, “is evil created or are people born evil?”

  “We’re not going to solve that one,” said Pam, finalizing the conversation.

  Suddenly, the boss came through in a rush.

  “Tammy, I need to speak to you!” he cried.

  “Why?” I asked, confused by his demeanor.

  “Will you just come with me now?!” said the very angry man.

  I followed him down the stairs as not a word was said. It was tense, when everyone was approaching the car. There were several police officers hanging around the area, and even forensic scientists. What I saw next shocked me completely. There, in the boot of my car, there was a crowbar, and on that crowbar, there was blood, and lots of it!

  “What the hell?!” I screamed. “How did that get there?!”

  “We were hoping you’d be able to answer that,” said the boss.

  “It wasn’t me!”

  “Look, this crowbar will be taken in for analysis, and it will be kept as evidence against you. I am not going to arrest you at this stage, but if any more evidence against you appears, I am going to have no choice but to arrest you for the murder of Barry Scott!”

  Chapter 42

  I just could not get over the shock—was somebody actually trying to frame her? It certainly looked that way. If so, it was a race against time to catch the killer, or else I really could be framed for it! I was scared now, because Mitchell thought it was me—I knew it. I had never seen him so angry, but I was determined to prove him wrong. Nobody could prove that I did it, not yet, anyway. Was there more ‘evidence’ to come?

  There was indeed more evidence to come. Unfortunately, later that day, more evidence came to light when the police examined the perfume bottle that I had used that night. The evidence from the perfume bottle suggested that I had been near Barry Scott, or in direct contact with him. The clothes on Barry Scott had the same smell as my perfume bottle, and there were several policemen who confirmed that. This meant that Barry Scott had to come in extremely close contact with either the perfume or someone who was wearing it, in order to carry the strong smell. There was no other apparent explanation as to why Barry Scott smelled like that, so it was assumed that I had come into close contact with him. I was not arrested yet as there was not enough evidence, although some of the police officers in the station did say themselves that they thought it was me.

  I was devastated. As a result of this revelation, I was sent home until further notice, because I was now officially considered a suspect. I cried all
the way home, but nothing could be done.

  “Do you believe me?” I asked Pam.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to believe,” were Pam’s last words to me on the phone.

  I knew I would bounce back from this. I was more determined than ever to solve the crime, even though ironically, it was the murder of the person I hated most, but I knew that I had to do it. My future depended on it. I was losing support quickly, and therefore, knew that I needed to gain it again. First, I had to think deeply about the killer, but there was not that much to go on yet, except for the evidence that was left to frame me. Somebody must have really had it in for her, and she assumed that it was one of the five relatives of the victims, because it would be nobody else.

  Suddenly, Miranda came to visit.

  “Come to see how I am?” I asked in a fairly bitter way.

  “Hello, Tammy,” said Miranda, “I’m here to search your house to gather evidence.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Come on, you know its procedure,” Miranda replied plainly.

  “You know it’s not me,” I protested.

  “Actually I don’t know it’s not you,” said Miranda, “I’m not assuming anything. That’s what you always taught me in every single case that we’ve done together—it could turn out to be the person you’d least suspect, and you have to keep that in the back of your mind”.

  “You know full well it’s not me!” I said, furious that she’d be spouting my own words, that she’d never heeded before.

  Miranda stopped talking to me, and began to focus on her work. She put some latex gloves on. I hated her more than ever now. After a while, she went into the back garden, and searched the flower pots.

  “What’s this then?” Miranda said, pulling a knife out of one of the flower pots!

  “I don’t know!” I screamed. But Miranda took no notice.

  “Tammy Williams,” Miranda began, “I am arresting you for the murder of Barry Scott. You don’t have to say anything...”

  At that moment, I froze. This can’t be happening! Was her life about to end in tatters?

  I was put into the car, and one person even took a photograph. It still hadn’t sunk in yet. I knew that I needed to think of ways to prove my innocence, no matter how hard that would be.

  Chapter 43

  I sat in the cell in the police station—thinking, so this was what it was like. I felt so trapped. There was nothing there for me to do, except use the toilet and lie down on the extremely thin mattress. It was dark, too, for the window was very small—if there was a fire, I would not be able to escape the building, which would count as a health and safety issue, although it was ignored by all, because nobody cared about prisoners, guilty or not.

  Eventually, a police officer came to give me some dinner.

  “This is absolutely ridiculous!” I cried, but the he did not listen. “It wasn’t me! Nobody can prove that!”

  I knew that nobody would listen to me at this point. After I finished my dinner, ten minutes later, the same officer came back and took me to the desk. I knew that was coming.

  “Tammy Williams,” said the officer at the desk, “you are charged with the murder of Barry Scott. You are refused bail.”

  “I will prove my innocence,” I exclaimed, “and after I do, rest assured I will be putting in a claim for this mess!”

  I was promptly taken back to my cell. I decided to make a start on proving my innocence by thinking about the evidence that was planted. Nobody could have gotten into the back garden without taking a risk. I had assumed that it was one of the five suspects doing this to me, if not all of them. But how could they find out where I lived? Nowadays, there are many websites online that help to track people down, so she assumed it was that way. Knowing that the plant pot angle would get me nowhere, I decided to think about the perfume. How did my perfume get on to Barry Scott? I thought about that for a while. The final piece of evidence left to me was the crowbar found in the trunk of the car. Then, I remembered something—for five minutes, when I left the table to go to the bathroom, I left my keys on the table. Other than that, they were in her back pocket all the time, so nobody would be able to get hold of them. That five minutes would prove crucial, and I knew it. I thought about where everyone was when I went to the bathroom; the rest of the squad was there, and the five main suspects were also there at a nearby table, watching my every move like a hawk. That provided with them with the opportunity to do it. Could it be possible that the five of them managed to distract the rest of the squad while taking my keys, before putting the bloody crowbar into the back of my car? But there was one major argument against this—Scott was murdered after I went to the bathroom, so it was impossible for a bloody crowbar to be placed into the car at that time. Was it actually Scott’s blood on that crowbar? Hopefully not, then there would be evidence that I was framed. I didn’t want to count on that, because the murderer was an intelligent person, and I knew it.

  Seeing nowhere else to go, I used my one phone call for phoning a friend from the past...

  Inspector George Coarse entered the building. He was dressed smartly, and used a walking stick, for something had happened to his leg the last time he had been seen. He was allowed to visit me for five minutes.

  “Long time, no see,” he said. “How’ve you been?”

  “I really need your help,” I said, cutting to the chase because I knew that time was short.

  “I know you need to get out of here, but how can I help?”

  “I need you to find the real murderer of Barry Scott,” I replied firmly.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be the one who can work these things out?”

  “Yeah, but I’m in here. You’re a great detective, too,” I said, with a hint of desperation in my voice. “I’ve seen you in the papers a couple of times,”

  “I’ll try my best, but I can’t make any promises.”

  “You do this for me and you won’t regret it,” Tammy promised, seeing Coarse as her last hope.

  Chapter 44

  Coarse was not a complicated man—he was as straightforward as they come. A man who liked to get things done, and done right. He did not like to wait. He wanted to stop Tammy from suffering as he truly believed that she was innocent, although that was not yet proven. He knew he needed to start investigating immediately. His tactic was simple—to put pressure on each of the five suspects. That way, he might get somewhere, he thought.

  The first person to be interviewed was Bethy Sanders. She said that she was in the toilet, talking to Tracy, and that was all that she had said, until now.

  “What do you want?” said Bethy.

  “I am investigating the murder of Barry Scott,” said Coarse.

  “Not another one!” cried Bethy, “I’m sick of police officers! Can’t you just let the dead rest in peace, and I don’t mean Barry Scott!”

  “It’s not as simple as that,” Coarse explained. “You see, Tammy Williams has been arrested for the brutal murder of Barry Scott.”

  “So it was her?” asked Bethy.

  “Tammy has asked me to investigate the death.”

  “You’re wasting your time—it probably was her.”

  “If you look at it mathematically, Miss, you will see that it was probably not her. There are six established suspects. Therefore, statistically speaking, the chances of Tammy Williams being the killer are one in six.”

  “Well, one in five to me, because I know that I didn’t do it, and I know that Tracy didn’t do it, so it’s down to a one in four chance to me”.

  “You say that Tracy didn’t do it because she was with you, but what about her alibi?”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Who gives you an alibi? Tracy. Who gives Tracy an alibi? You. This is a traditional conspiracy technique, although it is not a very good one. Your alibi is not the most watertight, and you are still a suspect in my eyes”.

  “Alright, you’ve made
your point, but you still can’t prove it was me!” Bethy replied, grinning.

  Coarse knew that she was right. He could not prove it...yet. He had a very similar conversation with Tracy, and her responses were very similar to Bethy’s, as if it were a scripted performance. However, Coarse continued on to the brother of Bethy, William.

  William claimed that he was sitting at a table with Linda. In order to prove or disprove this statement, Coarse looked at the CCTV, which was now available. Unfortunately, the results proved to be inconclusive, because as usual, on the screen, not much can be seen but a few blobs and black and white static. It was like looking at a baby scan. No real information could be retrieved, although Coarse thought that he had seen two people sat at the table where William said they were seated, but he could not identify them.

  “So, you claim to be seated there?” said Coarse.

  “I was there,” William replied.

  “But you might not have been,” said Coarse. “You could have actually been outside. Nobody would have noticed you. You could be the killer.”

  “But you can’t prove it,” said William, rather smugly.

  Linda had said exactly the same thing.

  Joseph was the final one of the five to be interviewed. He did not say much, which made Coarse even more suspicious of him. His simple reply was, “you can’t prove it.”

  That seemed rather strange to Coarse—were they all in it together? It certainly appeared that way, and if only one person had planned it all, it seemed to him that there was a conspiracy of silence between the five of them. They were not about to give any information away, so Coarse was left to struggle with it.

  Chapter 45

  While Coarse was trying his best to identify the real killer of Barry Scott… and failing, I sat alone in my cell, wondering what my fate would be. I had two and a half months to wait until the trial, which was a very long time. Still, I knew that I was going to get sent down anyway, unless Coarse saved me. Nobody else would listen to me, so Coarse was me only hope. I had thought about it myself, long and hard, but found I was too tired and focused on surviving in prison, so I could not think about it in too much depth.