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Simon Says
Simon Says
Simon Says
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Simon Says

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Louise Everleigh, legal secretary to Adrian Mountgarret, a leading Criminal Defence Barrister, is found brutally murdered and her body dumped in his front garden.

For Detective Inspector Jonny Jackson and his team, this is an apparently motiveless crime. The absence of tangible clues to the identity of the perpetrator as well as any credible suspects causes considerable concern to Jonny who fears for his future on the Force.

Simon is the cause and the motivator behind this crime. Simon does not commit the crime personally, but merely manipulates others to do so. Simon cares nothing for those who are hurt in the process. For Simon this is just a game.

A second murder throws the investigation into chaos and the game escalates.

Jonny and his team struggle to make sense of the conflicting evidence that seemingly leads to a dead end, until..................

The reader is challenged throughout to identify Simon, but the secret will only be revealed in the final book of the trilogy.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherDavid Wineman
Release dateOct 29, 2012
ISBN9780956499028
Simon Says
Author

David Wineman

David Wineman is the pseudonym of a retired international businessman, who has always had an interest in the psychology of crime. Simon Says is his debut novel, crafted over a period of two years and fulfilling a lifelong ambition. He now spends most of his time in Tuscany, although he returns frequently to his roots in the North of England. He is presently working on the second novel in the Simon Trilogy.

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    Simon Says - David Wineman

    PROLOGUE

    Goddess of death,

    I stand here as your priest

    knowing that life must be winnowed

    to thrive.

    Pagan Ritual

    Simon says I must purge the world of all that is evil and release the spirits of those who have sinned and offended and thus they may atone for the wrongs that they have done. I therefore venture into their world and take away the very breath that gives them life. I will be rewarded and revered as one who has done his duty without fear and in the knowledge of the justness of his cause.

    I was not therefore surprised at how easy it was to take away the evil life that thrived in her soul. Simon told me how it must be done so that the message would be clear to all.

    She never suspected that I would harm her. Why should she? Totally relaxed, she never queried the drink I gave her and accepted the slipping into unconsciousness as a welcoming experience. When she was nearly gone, it was easy to strip her clothes off. Amazingly, I have never seen her naked before. She was full breasted and the swell of her belly ending in a thick bush of pubic hair was vaguely arousing. But I determined to keep my mind on the task in hand and leaving her on the bed I prepared the bathroom floor, covering it with the plastic sheet before stripping myself and donning the overalls, gloves and boots. It was not easy dragging the dead weight along the hallway and propping her over the bath whilst I retrieved the scythe, which I had honed to a keen sharpness. Supporting her under her chin with my arm around her neck, I sliced her belly open. The cut was not as straight as I wanted because her weight caused me to lean back and draw the blade upward. I was unprepared for the gush of blood and the pulsing spurts hitting the wall as her heart continued to beat. When the flow subsided I lowered her onto the sheet and tucked her intestines back inside her belly, for the angled cut had not allowed them to spill out in the neat manner, which I had anticipated. Her face looked peaceful and however evil she may have been, I was relieved that she did not seem to have suffered. Throwing my overalls and boots on top of her, wiped my hands on a towel, wrapped the sheet around them, donned fresh surgical gloves, coveralls, and boots, sealed the whole parcel with tape, taking care that no blood could leak out; I lifted her onto my shoulder and carried her into the hallway, leaving her by the door. Surprisingly she seemed much lighter than before. Did blood weigh that much or was it just the adrenalin coursing through my veins? Going back to the bathroom, I ensured that the door handle was wiped clean. I then washed all the glasses and put them away, changed the bed and put the dirty laundry in a pillowcase. I put her clothes in another and settled down to wait until I was sure all the neighbours would be well asleep before moving her to the place where she would eventually be found. I never brought any of my own clothes, those I wore came from a Charity shop today and I will burn everything from tonight with the exception of the sheet which I will deposit where Simon has ordered. They will surely discover that I have been here before, but that was never a secret and what they will find is exactly what they would expect.

    I hope Simon will visit tonight so I can tell all and receive the praise I deserve.

    1

    The present day

    The dream was like walking through porridge wearing snowshoes. He could hear her calling but his eyes were glued shut and to reach the voice required more strength than his legs could manage. It felt like they were tied together.

    Jonny, for fuck's sake pick up!

    Wait a minute, this was no dream, and she was really calling for him. But where was he? Reality began to seep through the alcoholic haze and he realised that he was lying on the floor of his lounge with his trousers around his ankles. He must have fallen over trying to undress and passed out. He struggled to his knees and forced his eyes open. When the daylight hit, a wave of nausea swept over him and he vomited last night’s kebab plus a large quantity of Jack Daniels onto his hearthrug.

    Jonny, where the hell are you? We have a fresh corpse on our hands and you are duty SIO on the Murder team!

    This was not good. One more cock up would see him back in uniform at Traffic if he was lucky. Ignoring the mess he crawled towards the kitchen and heaved himself up to the sink. Casting aside the dirty pots he ran the cold tap and managed to get his head under the flow. The shock of cold water brought temporary clarity and wiping himself dry on the tea towel, he pulled up his trousers and headed for the answering machine, for Angie had hung up. Looked at the time - 8 am - shite I should have been at the station at 7!

    Pressing the play button, her strident voice shouted at him Jonny, I am on my way over so if you are there get your act together because this is a nasty one. I'll be with you in 15 minutes.

    Better get myself pulled together, he thought, scooping up the hearthrug and shoving it into a rubbish bag to sort out later. Stumbling into the bedroom he threw off his clothes and into the shower cabinet, setting the jets on full power and cold. Fuckin hell! he screamed as the force of the water shocked his body to life. Two minutes was all he could stand before he grabbed a towel and started to rub himself dry with more vigour than was reasonable to expect from someone in his condition.

    Shave he muttered and walked to the washbasin. The face that stared back looked like many of the morgue pictures he had used in trying to identify murder victims, only most of them showed more signs of life. Pasty white, balding head, staring eyes sunken into dark rings and hollow cheeks. The only colour coming from his grey/green eyes. They, at least, showed that some life existed in the image.

    Jonny Jackson was normally fastidious about his appearance, rarely allowing friends or colleagues to see him in what was rapidly becoming a normal condition in the mornings or during rare days off. His attire, whilst never formal, was always smart and immaculate. Designer jeans, shirts and shoes were his trademark, so finishing his shave he chose a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, a Tommy button down shirt in matching faded blue and completed the picture with a pair of Bally loafers - no socks! Might make the fuckers ignore the state of the face!

    Making no attempt at cleaning up the flat, he made an instant coffee with hot water from the tap and sat down to wait for Angie to arrive.

    WDC Angie Lowe cursed the traffic on the Leeds ring road. Why did the bit between Adel and Seacroft have to be single carriageway when it caught all the traffic from the A58 and A64? Some male chauvinistic planner no doubt. Not that Angie was a man hater, she just preferred female company. Men were just a necessary evil and had to be tolerated, especially in this job. At 24 she had worked hard to overcome the natural prejudices that face female officers, especially those who had the temerity to want a career in homicide. Not to mention that being Eurasian, only 5 feet tall and with a propensity for mini skirts and tight tops with no bra which set the blood flowing to parts of her male colleagues which threatened to burst free of their restraints but with no prospect of relief because she steadfastly rejected all advances, crude or otherwise. Nobody in the station openly referred to her as a dyke, but it was always inferred. Not that she cared; she just wanted to guard her sexuality for those who meant something to her. Like Jonny.

    Finally she reached the Seacroft roundabout and drove past Tesco and into the estate. Why the hell Jonny chose to live here was totally beyond her. Seacroft was some planner’s idea of creating a city within a city, only it had ended up as a refuge for most of the white criminal elements of Leeds, they having surrendered Chapeltown to the Afro Caribbean and Asian elements. She supposed that Jonny regarded himself as a man of the people, always associating with the movers and shakers of the criminal fraternity by whom he was regarded as a straight up copper, but one who would give you a right good hiding if you fucked him about.

    Easing her car into a vacant space near Jonny's flat, she made sure that the youths hanging around outside knew she was going to see him, but it didn't stop them from shouting lewd comments about her body and ethnicity. Giving them a stiff finger she climbed the stairs to the first floor and along the corridor to Jonny's flat.

    It's open he yelled as she rang the bell. The sight that greeted her never ceased to amaze her. Here was this designer coat hanger of a man sitting in a room that closely resembled a refuse dump. Furniture that had seen better days years ago, carpet that would probably fall apart but for the dust and fluff holding it together and the collection of newspapers that grew larger each time she visited.

    If you don't get this place cleaned up, it's going to self combust

    One day sweetheart. Too many things to do and killers to catch. Takes up all my time and energy.

    Too much booze and not enough living in the real world. You need to watch it Guv, the natives are getting restless, not to say the Chiefs.

    Its Guv now, is it, what happened to Jonny? Just skip the lecture and tell me what we've got.

    In the car, we need to move!

    They hurried down to the car and Angie waved to the youths who were respectfully silent in Jonny's presence. I'll have your balls off if you don't respect my friend. he warned them, bringing a smile to Angie's lips.

    Driving back to the ring road she filled him in on their latest case. Unidentified female found mutilated at 7.30 this morning in the front garden of one of the big houses in Scarcroft Milkman noticed something on the lawn, went over to investigate and finds this corpse in a foetal position with her innards cradled in her arms like a baby. Proper spoilt his morning for him.

    Not doing a lot for mine either! Anybody else on the scene other than the uniforms?

    Billy should be there by now; we were both in the station when the call came! We were there for your 7.30 briefing on the Henderson twins shooting

    I said no more lectures. I know I fucked up, but this gets me off the hook if the brass don't know I wasn't there and I'm not telling. Are you?

    Guv you know Billy and me will cover your backside, but you have got to clean up your act otherwise we all go down the pan together.

    She's right and I know it. Too many boozy nights and too many favours to repay. This time I am really going to try. No false promises just let the actions speak for themselves.

    Whose house?

    I don't know Guv but we're nearly there. I expect Billy will have all the details.

    Minutes later they pulled into the drive of a small mansion that passed for a desirable executive residence in the parlance of the Estate Agents who sold such properties to the well heeled lovely people that now made small fortunes out of God knows what in Leeds, the fun and financial capital of the North East. At least 5 bedrooms, half an acre of landscaped garden now marred by two white SOCO vans and their attendant officers, yards of crime scene tape and the towering presence of DS Billy the man King. All 6ft 6ins of him, 27, wafer thin, blond hair, immaculately dressed in suit and tie as if for a business meeting and leaving wafts of Penhaligans Endymion in his wake as he marched around directing operations. A large white tent covered the scene of the murder, for it could not have been anything else.

    Jonny walked to the edge of the taped off area and beckoned Billy over. What have we got so far then?

    Female, maybe 45, gutted and placed in a nice foetal position. No signs of sexual assault, her clothes had just been raised enough to allow the killer to do his business. No sign of any murder weapon. The SOCO's are doing the initial sweep now but nothing so far.

    Pathologist?

    Irish is in there now

    Good, any idea whose house it is?

    Some city type. The wife is inside with a WPC. Apparently hubby is abroad on business. The accent was cut glass Oxford English. Billy was one of the West Yorkshire Forces' star fast track graduates but unlike some he had done his share of the dirty jobs and won himself a reputation for being one of the boys.

    Jonny dispatched Angie to the house to interview the wife whilst he donned a white forensic suit and entered the taped off area. Carefully stepping on the aluminium plates he made his way to the tented area. Stopping at the entrance he called out Irish! OK to come in?

    If ye promise not to chuck yer breakfast all over the place. The response came in a distinctive Irish brogue.

    Two sights greeted him as he entered the tent. The corpse of a middle aged woman curled up in a foetal position; a closer inspection revealing that she had been slashed across the midriff causing her innards to spill out. It was obvious that she had been arranged thus as her arms were cradling her guts and the small quantity of blood present did not equate with the apparent ferocity of the attack. There seemed no doubt that she had been killed elsewhere. The second sight was that of what can only be described as a leprechaun. Five feet of skin and bone, a ginger beard topped off with a bald head sporting a band of hair of the same colour and a curiously hooked nose. This was Professor Israel Slovinsky, the product of a Polish Jew who skipped ship in Cork and married a red haired barmaid in order to get Irish citizenship. Surprisingly the marriage survived and produced Israel who proved to have a quick and inquisitive mind and easily qualified for medical school where he proved to be a star pupil and his unhealthy interest in dead bodies marked him out as a potential pathologist from day 1. Today he was the leading Home Office Forensic Pathologist outside of London, highly respected and Jonny counted himself lucky to have him although he never said it to his face.

    Female, early forties, well nourished - you can see how she died, but I can't identify the implement until I get her back to the morgue. Time of death between midnight and 4am - can't be more exact since she was obviously killed elsewhere and we don't know what time she was dumped. Anything else or can I get her out of here?

    "As long as the SOCO's have finished up it’s OK by me. What time do you want to do the PM?

    Assuming you want it yesterday, how about 3pm?

    OK see you then

    Turning to Billy, Jonny instructed him to get the uniforms to initiate a house to house concentrating on the estimated time of death and to take a statement from the milkman.

    Just then Angie emerged from the house, hurried up to him and said You are not going to like this - the house belongs to none other than Adrian Mountgarret QC, scourge of the Force and CPS!

    Jonny, looking apoplectic kicked out at some unseen object and spat out Oh Fuck - just when I thought things couldn't get any worse! as he strode back to Angie’s car.

    2

    6 months previously

    Henry Boston, sometime accountant and pillar of society had suddenly gone berserk in Tesco's one lunchtime, leapt behind the fish counter, grabbed a knife and the terrified assistant and pronounced that he had been chosen by the Almighty to purge the world of purveyors of filth and pornography. He never actually threatened to harm the poor man, but frightened him almost to death. Fortunately there was a psychologist in the store who talked Henry into giving up both the knife and his hostage to the Police.

    To look at Henry you would say 'butter wouldn't melt....' - all 5 feet of him, angelic blond curls and dapper rotund body encased in a dark grey 3 piece suit, white shirt, red tie and foulard in his breast pocket, shoes polished to a military shine.

    They took him to the Police Station to await the police Doctor who recommended his removal to a secure unit for assessment prior to interview as the facilities at the Station were not adequate for someone in Henry's apparent condition.

    As luck would have it, the same psychologist who had talked Henry out of his act of rebellion was on duty at the Psychiatric Unit of St. James Jimmy's Hospital, which had a secure facility. This was Dr Desmond Dale who had years of experience in dealing with the disturbed minds of the various criminals who passed through the areas' justice system, so he was well qualified to assess Henry's state of mind. In fact, he had engineered his appointment to handle this case, having been there when the police Doctor telephoned the unit.

    So Henry, how do you feel? Dale asked when they were settled into the interview suite.

    Fine, why do you ask?

    Do you think that you have done anything wrong today?

    No, Should I have done?

    Why do you think you are here?

    I don’t really know, I went shopping at lunchtime and found myself here talking to you. Did I have an accident or something? I am in a hospital, aren't I?

    Yes Henry you are, but do you know what kind of hospital?

    That's what I cannot understand because I don't seem to be injured, so why am I here?

    You have no recollection of anything unusual happening today?"

    Apart from being here with you - no!

    Well, let’s not worry about that for now, it seems you've had a lapse of memory and we need to get to the bottom of it. Will you stay here for a couple of days so we can sort out this little problem?

    But what about my work?

    Don't worry; I will take care of all that. Is there anyone else you need us to tell about your being here?

    No, I live alone and have no family.

    Dale pressed a buzzer under the desk and a male nurse entered the room and escorted Henry to private room where he could be kept under constant surveillance.

    Leaving the room Dale encountered Angie Lowe, who had been allocated this investigation and who had been monitoring the interview on video. Is he for real? she asked.

    Dale confirmed he was real alright, but that he needed observing over several days to determine whether this was a genuine black spot in his memory or whether they were just dealing with a very clever man. Although he had much experience in psychopathic behaviour, he was always on the lookout for more case studies to beef up a paper he was writing in the hope of finding

    national recognition for his brilliance. The only problem was that Dale was a good but only average psychologist whose career was being rapidly overshadowed by his wife Marcia who was the 'Golden Girl' of the West Riding's Murder Team - Criminal Profiler Extraordinaire and of whom he was intensely jealous.

    He didn't really think that Henry would help his cause Just your average nutter probably, but we'll watch him for a few days and then let you loose on him if he's fit to be questioned so just go home or wherever and I'll let you know when the time's right he told Angie.

    The days passed and Henry displayed no further signs of disturbed behaviour. In fact he was boringly normal.

    Dale called Angie and said He's all yours. As far as I am concerned it was an aberration totally out of character, brought on by stress of some sort due to the pressures being put on him at work.

    I'll be round shortly - do I need to cuff him?

    Not necessary he replied He's a pussycat now and no reason to suppose he will give you any trouble. My report is at reception for you to collect at the same time.

    Angie formally arrested Henry at the hospital and together with a burly P C, since she was taking no chances and transported him to Millgarth Police HQ, where the Custody Sergeant advised Henry of his rights and even though he said he didn't really need a solicitor because he had done nothing wrong, the Sergeant pushed him into accepting the duty solicitor and Henry reluctantly agreed. When he got put into the holding cell which reeked of sweat and urine, he began to think that a solicitor was not a bad thing if he could get him out of here.

    Only the solicitor wasn't a he but a she! Helen Baxter - Roberts was a magnificent woman by any male standards - standing 6 ft tall, big boned, large chested and with a gravel voice and who intimidated most of the officers she came into contact with and by sheer force of personality rather than legal acumen. Get my client out of this piss hole and into a decent interview room, bring coffee and whatever he wants and then fuck off and let me talk to him in peace! - it was done!

    Now then Henry, you are a potential murderer then?

    N-n-no he stuttered, never being comfortable in the company of women, especially someone as domineering as Helen.

    So why d'you do it then?

    I don't know what I am supposed to have done - I just popped into Tesco's to do some shopping and ended up in hospital and now here.

    I don't think they will believe you, so why don't you just tell me what went on in your head and we'll see what we can do about getting you out of here.

    I do NOT know what you or they are talking about! Henry burst out, showing some emotion for the first time. I only went shopping in my lunch hour.

    If you are trying to pull a fast one then they will soon find out and have you for obstructing them in their investigations, on top of the charges they already have lined up.

    They can do what they like, but I cannot tell them any more than I have - I will take any test, lie detector or hypnosis. It won't change a thing.

    Helen looked thoughtful and then called the duty officer to say that they were ready for interview. Turning to Henry she said I hope to God you are not lying because once you have answered their questions you cannot change your story and get away with it, so please be sure before we start.

    I am sure.

    Angie conducted the interview and despite asking her questions in several different ways, after 2 hours Henry had not budged from his story and was totally consistent in his answers. Helen could see the frustration on Angie's face and confessed to herself that she had no idea what to make of it, the man was a total enigma. I think my client has been very patient and needs a rest while you decide what to do.

    Henry was put back into the holding cell whilst Angie went upstairs to seek advice from her superior officer Jonny Jackson. Explaining the situation, she was of the opinion that he be charged with threatening behaviour and remanded in custody, if the magistrates would wear it.

    Don't think we will get away with that. Jonny ventured We'll have every do good liberal human rights lobby on our backs crying 'cruel to nut cases', not to mention Helen of the great tits, besides I don't thing the magistrates will wear it, not with the current state of prison places. After all he didn't hurt anyone or actually threaten the shop assistant, just waved the knife around and shouted a lot.

    So we just let him go then?

    I didn't say that. He has to be detained if only for his own good and more importantly for us to find out if this memory loss is real or just a big con. The question is how to do it.

    We still have 16 hours left to hold him according to PACE, can we ask the CPS what we can charge him with to keep him out of harms way for a bit?

    OK off you go and see that dolly you fancy and see what you can get her to do for you. he said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

    Up yours. she retorted with a wry smile as she flounced out of his office wiggling her backside for all she was worth.

    3

    Nice to have part of the job done for me remarked Israel as Jonny entered the morgue where the victim was laid on the steel table with her innards exposed to view by the Y incision as well as that made by the killer.

    Jonny hated this part of the job and however many times he saw the corpses exposed like this it never failed to turn his stomach and the sickly smell of death was never truly masked by the disinfectant nor removed by the extractor fans. How anyone could do this for a living and stay cheerful he would never know. Must have a warped mind he thought, but there again looking at Israel about his work, you had to respect the man for his dedication and professionalism as he stooped over the body, carefully examining the wound.

    We aim to please. he retorted.

    Well its obvious how she died, massive loss of blood from the renal artery caused by the disembowelling. What is interesting though is that the incision was made from behind, probably when she was naked since there is not enough blood on the clothing and believe me there would be a lot of blood. The murder scene would be awash and impossible to clean thoroughly so when you find it you'll have no trouble in matching her blood or DNA.

    Jonny thought - piece of piss then - just ask if anyone has seen rivers of blood running out of their neighbours front doors and we'll have this cracked in no time. What about the weapon?

    Without blowing up the photos, I would say a very sharp implement with a curved blade. The pattern clearly shows that the blade travelled inwards then made its way across and out in a scooping motion. She was also held by the throat - there are bruises on her neck which are clearly pre mortem but we will be lucky if we get anything from them. He probably wore gloves and the best we can hope for is a very rough guess of his height. I'll let you know as soon as I can. Also I suspect she was drugged because it would be virtually impossible to do what he did if she were in any position to fight back. Toxicology will confirm

    Well, thought Jonny where do we go from here? He knew that the time had come to report to his boss, Assistant Chief Constable Charles Billings, a decent enough man but a political animal with visions of himself at the Met and at the very top no less. But first he had to get back to the station to oversee the incident room set up which he had left to D I Tony Taylor, his deputy and back up, taking care of the logistics and organising the reports coming in from the door to door and other inquiries.

    Report by tomorrow morning then? he shouted as he made for the door.

    If yer lucky you might get a prelim. came the reply.

    *

    Sure you are up to this? Charles Billings greeted Jonny as he walked through the door.

    I knew it, Jonny thought. Cover you arse and plead that I begged for the case if the wheel falls off. Charlie Sheen they called him because shit just slid off him. Never the less I need to make this convincing even if it means playing into his hands. I'm on the case sir. All the troops are working their nuts off, even the girls.

    "I do not need flippancy Jackson, just results. The press are already onto it and I have called the press conference for 6pm so you best get together with the press office and get a statement together. I will lead and you will be there to field the questions.

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