The Ghost of Julian Kane

By Alex Binney

Do ghosts exist? And can they commit murder?

In telephone call to New Scotland Yard, a man calling himself Julian Kane claimed responsibility for the serial killings of a High Court Judge and a stockbroker and his wife, whose deaths the police were currently investigating.

The problem, among others, was that Julian Kane was executed for murder in 1800, some 170 years earlier, and the “ghost” on the telephone also claims responsibility for other murders for which another man is already on trial.

With the Murder Squad chasing their own shadows up blind alleys littered with false clues, the phantom killer appears to have the upper hand. Are all the killings connected? It seems unlikely, and the murder case of 1800 returns again and again to haunt the harassed detectives...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Strict Publishing International
• Release date: Aug 25, 2013
• ISBN: 9780857793072

Alex Binney

Alex is a well established English author of murder mystery novels. He took early retirement as a manager from a major UK bank to pursue his first love of writing murder mysteries. Over the years he has devised numerous plots which he did not have chance to bring to his readership whilst pursuing his bank career. Divorced, he lives in Plymouth, Devon, UK, and you can correspond with him on Facebook.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE: The Send-Off

Stephanie Kane was surprised to see her husband arrive home so early.

It was evident from the start that he was in an awful mood.

Is everything all right, dear? she asked, when she saw the expression on his face.

He gave her that withering look. It was one she was familiar with. Usually, it was after she had asked him how his day had gone at the office and usually after her stockbroker husband had had a particularly bad day in the markets.

This time it was different. And it became apparent that it had nothing to do with affairs at his office. Indeed, it would soon become obvious that it would be about a different affair altogether.

Julian Kane was a forty-three-year-old man of average looks and height. What distinguished him from others was his high I.Q. and his intuitiveness. This intuition not only extended to the financial markets he dabbled in daily, but also to his insight into the personae of the humans with whom he dealt and associated.

Stephanie noticed how her husband was still clutching on firmly to that brown briefcase in his right hand, almost as if he were afraid to let it go.

What’s wrong? she found herself repeating in a different format, for it was evident that something was gnawing at him.

He had found her in the lounge when he had come home, perched on the couch and reading a woman’s magazine.

I’d like you to come over here, he said, placing the briefcase on the table where they used to dine occasionally.

She placed the magazine she had been reading on the sofa, and walked over to him.

As she did so, he opened the briefcase and took out a foolscap-sized brown envelope and passed it over to her.

I’d like you to have a look at these.

She gave him a curious smile and opened the envelope.

His look upon her was intense.

From the envelope she took out several photographs that showed her in compromising positions with another man.

Although visibly shocked, his wife did not look overly surprised.

Where did you get these? she asked.

His look telegraphed his thoughts. Does it matter? Isn’t their content the more important aspect? Who is he?

Somebody I met.

Met? Where?

Look... I can see you’re upset...

Upset? My wife of only two years screwing another man! How do you expect me to react?

If you’ll calm down, I’ll explain...

Explain? I don’t want explanations! I just need to know what prompted you to betray me in this way. I’ve done everything for you! God knows the sacrifices I’ve made in my career so that... so that... God, you make me sick!

Julian looked as though he was about to throw up there and then. He put a hand to his mouth and the tears were flowing. He suddenly turned and made for the stairs in their open-plan lounge and headed for the bathroom.

When he got there, he managed to keep his stomach under control, although the urge to throw up was still there. He felt annoyed with himself that he been unable to keep it all together. His wife must be thinking he was a wimp. He had to see his plan through though, and carry on with the scene he had created when he had first confronted her with those photographs.

Composing himself, he went back down the stairs and into the lounge where his wife was still looking at the telltale snaps.

You know what this means, don’t you? he shouted at her.

You can’t mean what I think you mean...

Don’t I? Not only will you be shamed, but I shall make sure that the people in that close little clique you associate with know what kind of a harlot you really are!

She laughed at him suddenly.

Harlot! she scoffed. "What sort of person uses that sort of language these days? Harlot – ha! And I suppose that the guy who’s been fucking me is a knave, is he?"

The words were meant to provoke a reaction.

And they did.

He lunged at her, but she sidestepped him and he fell to the floor as he tripped, having thrown his full body weight behind the lunge.

She, in the meantime, had run to the handbag that she had left by the magazine on the couch. She picked it up and ran around the back of the couch as he tried to grab hold of her again. But she used the couch as an obstacle as he tried to find an alternative way around it in order to manhandle her.

He looked surprised when she produced the gun from her handbag.

Don’t be silly, he said when he saw the weapon. What do you think you are going to do with that?

She displayed no hesitation. She shot him twice, and he collapsed to the ground.

My God, what have you done!?

He had appeared as if from nowhere.

I had no choice, said Stephanie, looking at the man who had come out of hiding. He was going to kill me. I could see it in his eyes...

Carl Endelthorpe, millionaire entrepreneur, looked shell-shocked. There’s going to be all hell let loose when this comes out!

She was calmer than he. You had better go. You can’t afford to be found here.

But what about him?

I’ll deal with it.

We should call the police, he spluttered.

Are you mad? she asked. You’ve already said ‘all hell will be let loose when this comes out’ – well, I’m going to make sure that it doesn’t. If we phone the police, what do you think will happen? They’ll say we planned all of this. They only have to speak to the photographer who took these photographs...

Endelthorpe was perspiring heavily. God, what a mess. How did he ever find out about us?

Who knows? I certainly didn’t tell anyone. Did you?

Me? No, of course not.

Then, somehow, he got wind of it. One of us must have slipped up somewhere.

So what are you going to do?

I have an idea. You must leave it to me. You’d best get out of here right away and establish an alibi for yourself. Go on. Go!

In spite of his misgivings, he needed no second bidding.

Okay, okay. I’m going. Will you ring me?

Yes, I’ll contact you later and let you know what I’ve done. Now... go on, get out of here. I must decide how best to give this late husband of mine a good send-off.

CHAPTER TWO: Missing Persons

Detective Inspector Giles Burrows looked at the blonde lady in front of him.

Thirty years old, and very attractive. She was not afraid to show off those shapely legs to their maximum effect by crossing them seductively in front of him under that short, green, tight-fitting dress she was wearing. She had used little rouge to bolster those healthy cheeks of hers, but the red lipstick gloss was laid on pretty thick and her blue-tinged mascara was liberally applied.

When she looked across at him she saw a good-looking forty-year-old man dressed in a smart charcoal-grey suit and sporting a Clark Gable moustache. He had a full head of jet-black hair, still showing no signs of grey – unless he was tinting it. She was unable to tell. But his steel-blue eyes were piercing. He made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

The desk sergeant tells me that your husband has been missing for a couple of days, Mrs. Kane. Is that correct?

Yes, said the woman, looking distraught. It’s terribly distressing.

I’m sure it is. Has he ever done anything like this before?

She looked at him aghast. Like what? Are you implying he has just walked out on me?

No, no, he said in mild protest. "All I meant was has he ever been away from you for this length of time without forewarning you?"

Absolutely not. If he had, I would not now be bothering you.

So... he left no note...?

No...

Just left for work two days ago and you’ve heard nothing from him since...?

That’s right...

Have his employers been in touch?

"Yes. He’s not an employee. He’s a partner in the firm. Naturally, when he didn’t turn up that day, his secretary telephoned me out of concern for him."

That would be Friday 23rd January?

Yes, that’s correct.

I see. What is his secretary’s name?

Cynthia Stayman.

Who are the other partners in the firm?

Josh Calendar and Godfrey Stipe.

And it’s a firm of stockbrokers by the name of DePurdeau and Prince, is that correct?

Yes. It’s an old firm. The original partners died some years ago.

Uh-huh. How would you describe your relationship with your husband?

I know what you are searching for, asserted the blonde before him. "Julian and I had the perfect relationship. We were madly in love, and we appreciated each other’s space. None of this ‘where have you been?’ nonsense. We had a very modern relationship."

Burrows gave her a sideways glance, and she saw his lips curl up at their ends. By that, do you mean you had other sexual relationships outside of the marriage?

"Sure... we both did, but when we did we’d tell each other about it. There were no secrets between us."

I see. In that case, are you or you husband in a sexual encounter with a third party at the moment?

She smiled that seductive smile at him. No...

Recently?

Julian... no. Me... yes.

And who was that?

"Do you really need to know?"

It might help. Maybe that person was jealous of your husband.

I hardly think so.

What makes you think that? Who was he?

She let out a sigh. He knew it was forced. He knew she really wanted to tell him.

It was Lord Stanhope.

He could not control the gasp. Lord Stanhope – the High Court judge?

Yes, that’s right. The poor darling was in need of consoling after his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer...

What do you do for a living, Mrs. Kane?

She noticed that the detective’s tone had changed. His last question was put to her rather curtly, she felt.

I don’t, Inspector. I am fortunate enough to be a lady of leisure. My husband earns enough for both of us to live comfortably.

Let me brutally frank with you, Mrs. Kane. Do you work for an escort agency?

No, I don’t. But I can see why you might think that.

She isn’t giving much away, thought Burrows. He decided to probe more deeply into her personal life. May I ask what social circles you move around in?

Her smiled was forced. He could see that she objected to the question.

My circle of friends come from different social spheres, Inspector. Some friendships have arisen through persons being introduced to me via my husband, others from family members and a few I went to school with...

But one would classify them all as being middle to upper class, though, I would suppose, he suggested.

I suppose.

How old is your husband, Mrs. Kane?

Forty-three. He celebrated that landmark three months ago with a big splash at the Hilton.

Did you give the desk sergeant your address when you came in?

Yes...

And telephone number?

Yes...

Did you and your husband ever discuss his work?

"Sometimes. When he had good days."

But not when he had bad ones?

She gave him a meaningful look. "Best not to."

Have you or your husband ever received threats from anyone?

No.

Are you sure? You answered that very quickly. Most of us have had run-ins with people at some stages during our lives.

She shrugged her shoulders, and when she did that he noticed how those ample breasts of hers moved under the flimsy top she was wearing over that dress. He could feel his himself being aroused...

I think the two of us have been remarkably spared from that sort of conflict, she said.

Hmm. He paused and gave her a bit of a stare, which the lady found disconcerting.

Do you know what I’m thinking, Mrs. Kane?

She looked puzzled by the question.

I’m thinking that you’ve probably said something unknowingly to your husband that has upset him. He is probably in a very stressful job, and it doesn’t take much to unbalance him emotionally. If it’s that, he’ll be back very shortly, carrying a bunch of flowers and apologising for being such a cad. It’s either that, or, because of the very ‘open marriage’ you say you have between you, he has embarked on a relationship that has forced him to part from you and the details of which he has not, on this occasion, decided to tell you about...

That could have been a possibility, I must admit, Inspector. However, he would still have attended his workplace or let his partners know what was happening. And he hasn’t. That’s why I think that something more serious is afoot.

Such as?

He may have had an accident.

Have you checked with the hospitals?

Some, but not all. London is a big place.

But there’s only a few which offer emergency care...

I’ve checked all of them, but they have not admitted anyone answering my husband’s description.

Do you have a photograph of him?

Yes. I handed it in to your desk sergeant.

How is your husband’s health? By that, I mean has he seen a doctor recently for any ailment?

No. But he does have annual health checks. Part of the partnership agreement.

Who is his G.P.?

The firm use the Parker Practice in Harrow.

What does your husband do with his time off? Does he attend any gyms or health clubs, play golf...?

He’s a keen squash player. He’s a member of the Thames Pedigree Players’ Club at Enfield. And he plays bridge at his local club in Chipping Barnet.

And in both places he could meet people that you, presumably, don’t know about?

He posed it as a question and noticed that it caused her a certain amount of uneasiness. He’s mentioned some of the people he’s come across in both places, but I’m sure there was nothing going on there.

"Okay, Mrs. Kane. I think that’s all I need to know for now. No point in gathering a lot of useless information if he’s going to turn up in a day or two..."

Again he received a look of concern from the woman in front of him.

I hope you are going to treat this as serious, Inspector, she challenged him. "I am very concerned about the situation."

I’m sure you are, ma’am. But with our caseload, I cannot promise that it will be a top priority. You have said that neither of you has been threatened, that you live in an ‘open relationship’ as far as your marriage is concerned and that you have checked the local hospitals to ensure your husband hasn’t been involved in any sort of accident.

She looked as though she was going to object, before he added, I don’t know if you are aware, Mrs. Kane, but in the United Kingdom it is still legal for people to ‘disappear’ if that is their wish, without the law trying to find them. The only exception to this is where kidnap or foul play may be suspected. You have not given us any information that would lead us to suspect that such a situation exists, so we will only be able to put such manpower as we can reasonably afford on the case when dealing with this kind of disappearance.

Which means you will do nothing she retorted.

That’s not what I said, Mrs. Kane, rebutted Burrows. We shall certainly look into the matter, and the amount of time we subsequently spend on it will be dictated by what we discover in our initial investigation.

At this point the inspector stood up to indicate that, as far as he was concerned, the interview was over.

The lady rose gracefully from her chair and shook the detective’s hand. Thank you for taking the trouble to see me.

"That’s all right, ma’am. We shall be in touch."

CHAPTER THREE: Developments

How did you get on, sir? asked the desk sergeant when Burrows showed his face.

"Let me put it this way: whilst not a pleasure, it was certainly an experience. I believe the lady gave you her address and telephone number?"

Yes, sir. I’ve written them down on this incident report form I got her to complete.

Let me have it, will you? Thanks.

What do you make of it, sir?

Burrows once more ran a finger through his moustache in a thoughtful mode. I’ll let you know when I’ve had a word with a couple of people.

I’m sorry to put her on you, Inspector, but there was no one else available.

"That’s all right, sergeant. It is a Sunday, after all. Anyway, it made a pleasant interlude from what I was working on. Perhaps the lady should have gone to church and prayed for her husband instead."

The two men laughed at this remark, and the detective returned to his room to review his notes and the report the desk sergeant had just given him.

Before that untimely interruption, Burrows had been working on another case that he was writing up on a drug-smuggling operation that he and some of his colleagues had smashed, which had been operating through the Port of London. It had fallen to him to write up the final report, and that was why he was working on the Sunday, a day he would normally have taken off.

Sunday 25thJanuary, 1970.

Inspector Burrows took out a packet of Players No.6 cigarettes from the top drawer in his desk and lit one up. He had fallen for the advertising spiel on this particular blend and was an avid collector of the coupons that he dutifully saved in order to exchange them for consumer goods.

By 1970 Players No.6 had edged ahead of Embassy as Britain’s number one cigarette, taking an incredible 21% of the entire UK cigarette market for the filter brand alone. Players celebrated this popularity in their advertising, which Burrows had fallen for. One campaign showed market stalls under the tag line, ‘The most popular filter cigarette in Britain’. Players also claimed that No.6 was ‘Part of the British scene’ in a campaign of the early seventies.

As he puffed on his cigarette, he completed the report on the drugs syndicate. Once he had finished it, he set it on one side ready for the typing section when they came in the following day.

Then he again worked through the notes he had written in his notebook when Mrs. Kane had come to see him. He also glanced at the incident report his desk sergeant had given him, which had been signed by her.

What an engaging woman, was his immediate reaction after reading all the comments he had jotted down and, quite clearly, he concluded, she was a dominatrix. Still, what man would object to being domineered by a woman such as she?

He laughed at himself and dismissed the whim as being frivolous. His wife would not be happy if she knew he entertained such thoughts...

According to the incident form the desk sergeant had given him, the couple had been married for nearly two years and lived in a substantial detached property in Hook.

Hook is a suburban area in south west London. It forms part of the Royal Borough of Kingston Upon Thames, located thirteen and a half miles south west of Charing Cross.

Julian Kane’s stockbroking firm was situated in Threadneedle Street, London’s ‘Bank’ area, yet the social interests of the man lay to the north of the City. Burrows presumed, therefore, that the guy must follow his social interests of bridge and squash by going to those places after he had finished work for the day.

Bearing in mind the day and the hour, he decided to ‘draw stumps’ and head for his home at Burnt Oak, a good thirty-five minute trip on the Northern Line of the underground.

He bought a copy of the Sunday Telegraph on his way to the station and settled down for a read when he got on the tube, his coach being comparatively empty at 3.30 p.m. on the Sunday.

Burrows lived in a four bedroomed detached house with his wife of ten years and his two children Mark and Mandy who were four years and five years old respectively.

How went your day, dear? Lucy asked him when he came in.

I managed to finish the report, that’s the main thing. I wouldn’t have done if I’d stayed here with the kids around. I had an interesting meeting after that...

And he told her of his interview with Stephanie Kane.

His wife smiled afterwards and poured him a scotch. Not the usual case you take on, she remarked.

Hold on, Burrows countered. Who said I’m taking it on? I was the poor sap who just happened to be available on a Sunday. This case will definitely get the boot from me. Young Sergeant Wilkins can have this one when he comes in tomorrow. Anyway, I couldn’t trust myself handling it.

Lucy had poured herself a glass of white wine – a Piesporter. Why not?

She’s a bit of a looker. I could see my marriage breaking up...

She laughed out loud. Ha! Look at him, Rudolf Valentino. Didn’t you tell her she could have you with my compliments? she teased.

Hey, where do you get this Valentino bit from? People will think I’m married to an old crone, you coming out with prehistoric sex symbols.

Her laughter continued. Oh, well, it’s bad luck on me, I guess. Looks like I’m going to have to put up with you for a little bit longer...

He pecked her on the cheek. Where are the kids?

In the playroom, playing doctors and nurses.

Really? I feel an injury coming on...

†

Detective Sergeant Brett Wilkins found himself seated before Detective Inspector Giles Burrows at 8 a.m. on that Monday, 26th January 1970.

So... there are the notes, Brett, plus the incident report. It’s all yours, said the Inspector. Just the sort of case a single lad like you ought to get involved with.

The sergeant did not appreciate the cynicism. He knew when he was being set up.

I am working on that other case with Inspector Cutey, sir, Wilkins reminded him.

The Parkins’ alleged rape? Yes, another domestic. So you should be able to run with this one until it resolves itself.

Resolves itself, sir?

Burrows sighed at him. "Yes... resolves itself, Brett. I’m sure her husband has had a sexual encounter somewhere and will return to the fold soon. Make sure Mrs. Kane knows it’s your case now – I don’t want her bothering me..."

†

So Burrows has landed you with that, has he? responded an annoyed Detective Inspector Adrian Cutey. Wait ’til I land one of his sergeants with a duff investigation to follow up. Did you tell him we were involved with the Parkins’ rape case?

Wilkins looked slightly embarrassed. Yes, guv. He seemed to know all about it. He was a bit dismissive as to its importance... said it was a domestic...

"Domestic, my ass. There’s more to it than that. Run the Kane thing pass me. Maybe I’ll be able to