Read Online Stark Contrasts (An Adam Stark novel Book 1) by Peter Carroll - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Peter Carroll
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way through it.
“I got a call at about seven this morning from a guy. Well, I say a guy, it sounded more like a computer. You know, like that scientist dude in the wheelchair - Stephen Hawkins or whatever his name is.”
Stark nodded.
“Well, it just said to go to the station and ask the police how the guy on the tracks died. They guaranteed it wasn't suicide and he wasn't the first example they'd set.”
Stark raised his eyes to the ceiling, waiting for the punchline.
“So, what's going on, Adam? We got ourselves a serial killer on the loose?”
And there it was.
“Floyd, we've known each other quite a while and you know I always help you when I can, right?”
“Yeah, and I'm always very grateful...so?”
“Well, this is a bit of a strange one. We're still at a very early stage and as you're all too aware, when we start linking crimes, the serial killer stuff can become a runaway train - if you'll pardon the pun.”
They both smiled.
“Ok, Adam, but you know that the public have a right to know if they're in danger. So, what've you got and what way would you like me to play it?”
***
Stark was sure the arse-kicking for being a few minutes late had stopped but he was wrong. Off on the wrong foot again with his superior officer. A bad habit; must try harder.
“And another thing, I don't know how you used to do things in the land of haggis and neeps, but when you're working on a case from my station, I expect to be kept informed! Do you understand what that means, Stark?” shouted DCI Hargreaves.
“Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I'll make more effort from now on to involve you.”
You racist twat , was the unspoken flourish Stark longed to add to the end of his reply. How his tongue remained in one piece while biting it so hard mystified him.
A huge emission of air rushed from DCI Hargreaves lungs, discharged via his nostrils. Stark felt under-prepared for the meeting, thinking perhaps he should have brought a three cornered hat and a red cape.
“Right, with luck, you've got that into your thick, Scottish skull. Now start talking!”
“Well, sir, so far, this is what we have. A young black guy called Dwayne Clements was abducted and mutilated about three weeks ago. The attacker left a note on Clements' person explaining their motivation as some sort of social crusade to improve respect and good manners. A drastic over-reaction to him spitting out his gum in the wrong place, apparently. Pulled out all his teeth and sewed up his mouth.”
The DCI frowned deeply without interrupting, so Stark continued with his summary.
“Then, last week, we had a lorry driver called Ernie Martin, from the Tower Estate, squashed between his truck and his van for the crime of tailgating. Looks like the same offender because they left a very similar note. They sign themselves off as a concerned citizen taking action.”
“Well, they better be concerned when we finally catch up with them!” spat the DCI bitterly. “Go on, Stark. What else do you have?”
“The odd thing about this one is that the dead man's widow claims he was abducted and scared witless by two men a week before this fatal attack. Same idea, but like a warning of some sort, without the finality of murdering him. The local cops had nothing to go on and didn't take it very seriously. Looks like, with hindsight, they should have. However, we can't be sure how accurate the story is and all three notes are signed off in the singular, not the plural.”
“Three notes? You've only mentioned two so far.”
“Yes, sir, I was getting to that. This morning, we found victim number three; Calvin Jacobs. He's a city banker and was shoved in front of a Tube at rush hour. This time, the crime that riled our friend was Jacobs shoving people out the way on the Tube and being rude and aggressive.”
“Him and ten million others!” quipped the Chief in a rare moment of levity.
The DCI got up from his chair and walked over to the window. The office sat many
“I got a call at about seven this morning from a guy. Well, I say a guy, it sounded more like a computer. You know, like that scientist dude in the wheelchair - Stephen Hawkins or whatever his name is.”
Stark nodded.
“Well, it just said to go to the station and ask the police how the guy on the tracks died. They guaranteed it wasn't suicide and he wasn't the first example they'd set.”
Stark raised his eyes to the ceiling, waiting for the punchline.
“So, what's going on, Adam? We got ourselves a serial killer on the loose?”
And there it was.
“Floyd, we've known each other quite a while and you know I always help you when I can, right?”
“Yeah, and I'm always very grateful...so?”
“Well, this is a bit of a strange one. We're still at a very early stage and as you're all too aware, when we start linking crimes, the serial killer stuff can become a runaway train - if you'll pardon the pun.”
They both smiled.
“Ok, Adam, but you know that the public have a right to know if they're in danger. So, what've you got and what way would you like me to play it?”
***
Stark was sure the arse-kicking for being a few minutes late had stopped but he was wrong. Off on the wrong foot again with his superior officer. A bad habit; must try harder.
“And another thing, I don't know how you used to do things in the land of haggis and neeps, but when you're working on a case from my station, I expect to be kept informed! Do you understand what that means, Stark?” shouted DCI Hargreaves.
“Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I'll make more effort from now on to involve you.”
You racist twat , was the unspoken flourish Stark longed to add to the end of his reply. How his tongue remained in one piece while biting it so hard mystified him.
A huge emission of air rushed from DCI Hargreaves lungs, discharged via his nostrils. Stark felt under-prepared for the meeting, thinking perhaps he should have brought a three cornered hat and a red cape.
“Right, with luck, you've got that into your thick, Scottish skull. Now start talking!”
“Well, sir, so far, this is what we have. A young black guy called Dwayne Clements was abducted and mutilated about three weeks ago. The attacker left a note on Clements' person explaining their motivation as some sort of social crusade to improve respect and good manners. A drastic over-reaction to him spitting out his gum in the wrong place, apparently. Pulled out all his teeth and sewed up his mouth.”
The DCI frowned deeply without interrupting, so Stark continued with his summary.
“Then, last week, we had a lorry driver called Ernie Martin, from the Tower Estate, squashed between his truck and his van for the crime of tailgating. Looks like the same offender because they left a very similar note. They sign themselves off as a concerned citizen taking action.”
“Well, they better be concerned when we finally catch up with them!” spat the DCI bitterly. “Go on, Stark. What else do you have?”
“The odd thing about this one is that the dead man's widow claims he was abducted and scared witless by two men a week before this fatal attack. Same idea, but like a warning of some sort, without the finality of murdering him. The local cops had nothing to go on and didn't take it very seriously. Looks like, with hindsight, they should have. However, we can't be sure how accurate the story is and all three notes are signed off in the singular, not the plural.”
“Three notes? You've only mentioned two so far.”
“Yes, sir, I was getting to that. This morning, we found victim number three; Calvin Jacobs. He's a city banker and was shoved in front of a Tube at rush hour. This time, the crime that riled our friend was Jacobs shoving people out the way on the Tube and being rude and aggressive.”
“Him and ten million others!” quipped the Chief in a rare moment of levity.
The DCI got up from his chair and walked over to the window. The office sat many
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