Chasing Shadows Countdown

By B T Coll

First novel in the crime series Chasing Shadows but can be read as a stand alone novel. With the murders of several young women in the city, it becomes apparent that the police are dealing with a serial killer. DI Mike Watson finds himself as lead detective and with opposition from two older detectives and his decision to enlist the help of a local psychic, he finds himself dealing with conflict within his team, which could jeopardise the investigation. Will they be able to catch the killer before he strikes again? There is a twist at the end, which only the reader discovers. Other ebooks in the crime series Chasing Shadows include: Malevolence, A Son's Revenge, A Distant Land and Time To Run.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B T Coll
• Release date: Jun 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301630394

Book preview

Chasing Shadows

Countdown

B T Coll

Author’s Note

Countdown is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are entirely fictitious.

Copyright B T Coll © 2017

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

After many months of meticulously planning her demise, there was only one thing left to do and that was to choose the right man to carry out the deed. Through a rigorous elimination process that lasted several weeks and had caused many sleepless nights, the choice was finally made. Paul Dillon was the best man for the job. This was a man who had been in and out of prison for most of his adult life and had just been released a few months ago after a lengthy prison sentence for attempted murder. It was a well-known fact that he had, in the past, taken the fall for crimes that had been committed by others in exchange for money. So, taking everything into account, he seemed the best man for the job.

The details of the plan had to been changed when the news of the murders of two women came to light. Strangulation was now the preferred method to get rid of her. All that was left now was to persuade Paul Dillon to agree to the plan in exchange for a handsome amount of money. He would be given £1000 as a down payment, with the rest being paid on completion of the murder that had been so carefully planned. The biggest challenge was not persuading Paul Dillon to commit the deed. The biggest challenge was to ensure that her murder was somehow connected to the still unsolved murders of the other two women in the area. They had been murdered a month apart and their bodies dumped in the Glasgow area. Both had been strangled and for the plan to work her murder had to be identical to the others in every way. The date of the murder had to be exact for the alibi to work.

On Friday 1st November Mayor Williams was hosting a dinner party at the Town Hall with well over 200 guests. At first the invitation was going to be declined, as the thought of attending another boring dinner party was not something to look forward to. The invitation lay on the desk for weeks until the thought of needing an alibi came to mind. It was the perfect alibi and with this Friday 1st November became the day that everything would fall into place. Everything would have to go to plan and her murder could never be traced back to Paul Dillon. To ensure this there was another plan. A plan that would be enforced after the deed was done. Countdown. Five days to go.

Chapter Two

Paul Dillon had left prison with no money, no home and no chance of a job. Not that he wanted one anyway. He couldn't even remember when he last had a job. Now living in a hovel of a flat, arranged by the Social Work, he sat on his sofa looking at the brown envelope and the bundle of £20 notes in his hand. What the hell!

He had found the brown envelope, lying in his hall, that morning. Who would put an envelope stuffed with money through his door? Who knew he was out of prison? Was it his brother Davie? When he left prison, he had promised himself a new start and had not contacted any of his old mates but he knew that news of his release would get around sooner than later. Every time he had been freed from prison he promised himself a new start in life. Easier said than done and over the last 20 years he had broken his promise many times. This time however he wanted it to be different. At 43 years of age it was now or never. Looking around his dingy flat he wondered how long he would stay out of prison this time. He let out a huge sigh and knew that it wasn't going to be easy. Going straight after all these years would be the hardest thing he had ever done. Can he do it?

Throwing the envelope on the table he started counting the money and found to his dismay that it amounted to £1000. Was this some sort of set up? Was it his brother Davie compensating him for all he had done for him? He looked down at the money on the table. Something was going on. Something he knew nothing about. He didn't like this. He didn't like it one bit. What was he expected to do for this money?

He lifted the bundle of notes from the table and counted it all again. It was a lot of money. Laying it back down on the table he thought of what he could buy. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a folded sheet of white paper on the floor. Did it fall out of the envelope? He scooped it up and sat looking at it for several moments trying to find the courage to open it. What would it say? It wasn't going to be good, he was sure of that.

Taking a deep breath, he unfolded the paper and read the short message.

Paul Dillon £1000.

Will be in touch.

Mr X

What was this about? Who was Mr X? His head was pounding with so many unanswered questions. Stuffing a bundle of notes into his trouser pocket he put the rest under his mattress before grabbing his jacket and making his way to the pub. He needed a drink.

Chapter Three

Alison Phillips sat at her office desk and let out a huge sigh. The dark rings around her eyes were visible for all to see. She hadn't slept properly for weeks now. Every night it was the same thing. The telephone would ring constantly for most of the night. There never seemed to be anyone at the other end. No heavy breathing, just silence. After a week of this Alison contacted BT who told her they would look into it for her. Maybe there was something wrong with her telephone line. In the end, she changed her telephone number but the calls did not stop. At 3am that morning, the telephone rang again and she had tossed it across the room. It was now sitting in a hundred pieces. She would clean it up when she got home.

Looking around the office she saw that Helen McKenna, the Office Manager, had risen from her desk at the other end of the room and was now making her way towards her. She suddenly felt her mouth go dry and her throat tighten. Grabbing a thick wad of invoices, she immediately began putting them into order to make herself look busy. She had already endured the sharp end of Helen's tongue for most of the day and didn't want another confrontation. To her great relief Helen walked right past her making her way to the fax machine in the corner of the room. Alison let out a sigh of relief. Another few minutes and she would be out of there.

Helen was a short stout woman in her early fifties with short black curly hair, which had more than a little grey. She wore what everyone called 'Harry Potter' glasses, which were too big and round for her long face. The large round glasses were the first thing anyone noticed about her. They were her trademark. Even if someone couldn't remember her name they all knew the woman with the 'Harry Potter' glasses. She was one of the first employees of Johnston & Jones and had worked for the company for over 20 years and had become Office Manager when Josephine Gibson retired, just over three years ago. She was the first person in the offices in the morning and the last to leave at night.

Her whole life seemed to revolve around the company although there were rumours of a husband whom she mentioned now and again to explain her bad moods. Alison and her co-workers were rather sceptical and had deduced that the husband was a figment of her imagination, seeing that there was no physical evidence of his existence not even a photograph.

Over the last year Helen's bad moods were becoming more and more frequent and she always took her temper out on others, which earned her the nickname of 'Super Bitch'.

Alison Phillips had only been working with the company for little over a year and hated every minute of it. She had been trying unsuccessfully for the last six months to find another job. She didn't let this get her down. Her ideal job, she told herself, was only around the corner.

Glancing at her watch she was pleased to see that she only had a few minutes left to work before she could go home. It had been a very long day and she regretted now that she had not called in sick.

Five minutes later, Alison switched off her computer, took her handbag from her desk drawer and rushed over to grab her coat from the coat stand in the corner of the room. Helen McKenna was still at the fax machine and Alison could see out of the corner of her eye that she was checking her watch. Without saying a word to anyone Alison put on her coat and rushed out the door, along the corridor and down the stairs.

As she pushed open the swing doors leading to the reception area she cursed as she saw through the glass front doors how dark it was outside. Looks like rain Janet, the receptionist, informed her looking up from her computer for a few seconds. Bloody typical. The sun shines all day and just when you leave work it starts to rain. Alison replied curtly shaking her head. Right I’m off before it gets any heavier. Pushing open the front door she stood there for a few seconds looking up at the sky. Bye. Janet shouted and lifted her head from the computer just in time to see Alison disappearing out of sight.

Making her way through the car park, Alison tried to remember where she had parked her car that morning. It took several minutes before she spotted the red Fiat Punto in the distance. As she made her way to the car she jumped when she suddenly heard thunder in the distance. She could feel the rain now and noticed it becoming heavier with each second that passed.

Quickening her step, she frantically began searching her bag for the car keys and on reaching her car, just managed to open the car door and jump inside as the clouds burst. Now slamming her car door shut she wondered how long the downpour would last.

Sitting in her car listening to the heavy rain pounding onto the car roof she could feel the tension rising within her. She let out a scream as a flash of lightening streaked across the sky and covered her ears for the inevitable thunder. Was she safe sitting in her car in the middle of a thunderstorm? Should she run back to the office? Should she try and drive in the heavy rain? Undecided on what to do she switched on the car radio and decided to wait and see. That was her new philosophy ever since Mark left her. Don't make rash decisions. Don't worry about things. Just wait and see what happens.

She had waited and waited for Mark to return to her but he never did. The last she heard, he was living with his new girlfriend somewhere in Paisley. No mention of divorce. No mention of anything. She had half expected him to contact her about selling their home but he never did. She shook her head. No use dwelling on the past. Anyway, she will soon be off to sunny Spain. Her friends Mary and Laura had arranged the holiday as a surprise to cheer her up. They told her that they were sick to their back teeth of looking at her gloomy face all the time and seeing that her gloomy face was too pale, decided a trip to sunny Spain was in order.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the familiar ring tone of her mobile phone. It was the garage around the corner returning her call from earlier that day. She was furious to be told that they would not be able to repair her car for at least a week due to a backlog of repairs needing finished. Something to do with mechanics having Swine Flu but she wasn't interested in excuses all she wanted was her car repaired. She had thought of claiming on her car insurance but her friends had advised her against it, as it would put up her premiums.

Ending the call rather abruptly, she found herself cursing mechanics, then the swine flu but most of all, the person that had scratched the entire length of her car. She would call some more garages tomorrow.

Feeling a headache coming on she switched off the car radio and rummaged through her handbag for some painkillers. She cursed as she remembered that she had left them on the bedside cabinet the night before. Tears started to well up in her eyes. She was tired and felt more than a little depressed as everything seemed to be going wrong for her these days. She chastised herself for feeling so low; this was not like her at all. She was normally a bubbly cheerful person and always dealt with whatever life threw at her with a positive attitude.

Shaking her head, she knew her low mood was due to lack of sleep. An early night was what she needed. That and a holiday with her friends would soon have her back to her normal self again in no time. The rain began to ease off and she started the car and made her way out of the car park to join the queue of traffic trying to reach the main road. The thought of going off with her friends to the sun lightened her mood and she found herself thinking of buying some new clothes. Countdown. Ten days to go.

Chapter Four

Paul Dillon had just finished eating a fish supper and was now sitting in front of his new 42in HD TV, with a can of lager in one hand and the remote control in the other. Sipping from the can and flicking through the channels he suddenly heard his letterbox rattle. Rushing out to the hall he stopped in amazement as he saw that yet another brown envelope had been put through his door.

He pulled the front door open and rushed down the stairs two at a time but on reaching the front of the building saw that the street was deserted. Returning to his apartment he quickly slammed his front door shut and began tearing open the envelope. Half expecting more money he was disappointed to only find a folded piece of paper and a small photograph. Standing in the hallway he read the note.

Redmond Street

Red Fiat Punto

Photo enclosed

Details to follow

Turn your lights on and off three times, at 9pm, if you agree

Mr X

Bloody Hell! Paul studied the photograph. It was of a young woman in her early thirties, he guessed, with long dark curly hair. It was a passport sized photograph showing a close up of her face. Someone wanted him to have a good look at her. He wondered who she was and turned the photograph over to see her name, Alison Phillips, written on the back. The note said she lived in Redmond Street and drove a red Fiat Punto.

Why was he given this information? What was he expected to do? Paul didn't like this. It was all too sinister. Someone was playing games with him but why? There was no way he was playing along with this. Turn his lights on and off three times. No way! He wasn't getting mixed up in this, whatever it was. No way in hell! If this Mr X wanted his money back then he would need to whistle for it. He had spent most of the money that day and only had a few pounds left. Money had a way of disappearing from his grasp very quickly. Easy come, easy go. Paul Dillon lived for the moment.

He looked at his watch. 9pm. What now? He switched off the living room light and creeping towards the window, positioned himself behind the curtains. Carefully pulling the side of the curtain back, just enough to see down the street, he wondered if Mr X was watching him. The street was empty.

A few moments later he heard a noise and saw two men, obviously drunk, staggering and swaying along the street singing. They stopped for a moment while one of them relieved himself against a wall. A few moments later they had disappeared around the corner and the street was empty again.

Paul shook his head. Mr X would be more devious and keep to the shadows, he was sure of that. A few minutes later a blind man, with a white stick, came along the road. The man, wearing dark glasses, a long grey raincoat and matching hat, stood waiting to cross the road at the traffic lights directly across from Paul's flat. When the lights changed colour and bleeped, the blind man made his way across the street and Paul watched as he too disappeared from view. Straining his neck to see further along the street, Paul saw that there were a few parked cars. Perhaps Mr X was in one of those cars. Ten minutes later he gave up. Mr X wasn't stupid he would make sure he wasn't seen. Opening another can of lager he settled down to watch some television.

At 10pm he found himself falling asleep and had to drag his weary bones from the sofa to get to bed. Making his way to his bedroom