Murder Most Evil: The Laura Curtis, Female Private Investigator Series (3), #4

By Lee Hobart

Someone Wants Her Dead

Laura wakes up in the bare bedroom of a deserted house, her leg hurts...she's been shot!

She notices smoke seeping in from under the door. The door is locked, the window is boarded up. Someone wants her to burn alive.

An adversary has retuned but that's not the only thing she has to confront. Laura is retained to investigate the death of a young woman who'd been looking into shady practices at her place of work.

Malpractice in the workplace is one thing, brutal murder is something else.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Hobart
• Release date: Jun 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513038032

Lee Hobart

In a long business career I experienced both success and failure…plenty of the latter! I did get to see much of the world which was great because I love to travel. My wife and I lived for a time in Los Angeles and then Melbourne, Australia, it was a wonderful experience. Now our home is in a lovely small town in Wales. At an early age I became an avid reader and, perhaps as a result, I used to enjoy writing school essays. Later while pursuing my business career I penned thousands of words, business letters, promotional material and so on. Of all the things I’ve done nothing has given me more pleasure than writing novels. People tell me they enjoy my books and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. To be able to bring a little pleasure to someone is very gratifying. To those who say they don’t like my writing I make a promise…I’ll try harder next time. For details of new or upcoming books please visit… www.leehobartbooks.com I look forward to welcoming you there.   Lee.  

Book preview

Chapter 1

I came round telling myself I must be dreaming. The stabbing pain in my left thigh confirmed otherwise. This was for real and I faced one huge scary problem.

As my head cleared I found myself in a squalid empty room lying on wood plank flooring. I turned my throbbing head and to my horror became aware of smoke seeping in from beneath the door.

And, as they say...there's no smoke without fire!

The walls of the room had once been papered, the paper now hung down in strips as though offering fuel to the fire about to engulf the room. With much effort I stood and hopped to the door, it would not open. From the boarded up window I could see two story terraced houses opposite, mirror images of the one in which I now stood. 

The bare room, illuminated by a naked bulb, began to fill with smoke; a further reminder of my perilous situation. On the verge of deep despair I looked up and spotted a loft hatch in the ceiling. That's when my fighting instinct kicked in.

It was now or never, the smoke was becoming dense and I knew I had little time to save my sorry butt. I leapt at the hatch and managed to push the cover to one side. After taking a moment to recover I leapt again, this time gripping the frame of the hatch with both hands. With one last superhuman effort I pulled myself up into the loft.

As my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, I saw to my intense relief there were no walls separating the lofts in this terrace.  I crawled along and tried to open the first loft hatch I came to, couldn’t budge it. The next one I could and in so doing I nearly frightened the life out of a young woman who was about to carry her baby downstairs. She let out a scream and then started to speak. I interrupted and spoke to her with as much force and authority I could muster.

‘Please, please do not panic. There’s a fire in the house two doors along. Get yourself and your baby downstairs and outside right now, then call the fire service.’

Fortunately she was tough and savvy. Without missing a beat she turned and hurried downstairs. Now I had to follow. I wasn’t looking forward to dropping through the hatch to her bedroom floor but maybe the carpet would help soften my landing. Huh! Although I took most of the fall on my right leg, the pain that shot through my left was almost unbearable.

Sally, the young mum, raced back up and helped me to my feet and by holding on to her I made it downstairs. As we reached the bottom, there were neighbors waiting to lend a hand. I was in great pain but I'd survived a situation that could have been real nasty, no, make that fatal.

People were still fussing around me when the fire service, the police and the paramedics all arrived at once...sirens blaring. Sally had called it in so she was the first to be questioned by the police. They then turned to me but by this time I was almost out of it again and in no state to answer their enquiries. The ambulance whisked me away to the hospital.

*

On recovering consciousness my mind began racing, filling with questions including, where the hell am I? How long have I been here? And most important of all, how had I been injured?

Oh, even though I had still not opened my eyes, I knew I was in hospital. I could feel the intravenous drip in my left arm and of course there was that hospital smell. But try as I might I could not put together the how and the why.

This worried me. OK, I knew my name, Laura Curtis, a wife, and mother of two children. We lived in Cambridge and I was a private investigator. But working on what?

I was finding my inability to recall recent events really scary. It was something I'd never experienced before. I'd been injured, I'd been left to burn to death in that house but I didn't know how I got there in the first place. I knew how I got here but...where the hell was here? A Cambridge or London hospital or some hospital on Mars even? Just trying to figure it out exhausted me. I drifted off again.

In one of my more lucid moments, I realized the most important issue was not so much the how and why, but who. Who, just who had I upset so much they wanted to kill me? Would they know they hadn't succeeded? Would they try again? My final thought was what it is to be so popular. At least I hadn't lost my sense of humor.

*

'I'm sorry Inspector, but my patient is still not able to talk to you and I suspect at the moment she's suffering transient global amnesia. That's short-term memory loss.'

'I know what it is Doctor Ramsey, but it's very important I get to speak to her as soon as possible. All I know at the moment is someone tried to kill her, so in case they try again my officer will remain outside her room.'

I feigned sleep while listening to their exchange. I was not ready to answer questions, besides, I had plenty of my own. Transient global amnesia? Short term-memory loss? What the hell was this all about?

A half hour later Doctor Ramsey came back to my room. He asked me how I felt. I asked him what the treatment would be for my memory failure.

'There is no treatment, it resolves on its own and there are no after effects to worry about.'

'That's good to know but how long is it likely to take?'

'You've suffered acute emotional distress and of course you've been involved in some very strenuous physical activity. This may well have caused your condition. Having said that, you could regain your memory within the next ten or twelve hours. I'd be surprised if it lasted longer.' 

The last few days were a complete blank. I wanted to know if this perhaps suggested some other underlying problem.

'No, I gave you a thorough examination and it's my opinion going forward you have nothing to worry about. My chief concern has been the injury to your left leg. Someone shot you in the leg using a low velocity hand gun and while you bled quite a bit I don't think it was meant to be life threatening. I think you were meant to die in the fire, all while being aware of your fate.'

'I remember waking up and managing to escape but that's all. God, I felt scared. I just don't know how I got there. Which reminds me, where am I now?'

The good doctor smiled broadly at this. 'You are in The Royal London Hospital on Whitechapel Road. The ambulance delivered you here this morning from Cable Street in Stepney. Does that ring any bells?'

'I can't believe this, no, it doesn't mean anything to me. Ah well, anyone been in touch with my family? Wait a minute, I think my husband is in Belgium on business but what about my neighbor, Jean?'

'All taken care of. Your husband is on the way back and Jean will be here in the morning with your children. Now, no-one is going to disturb you to-night but you will no doubt receive a visit from the police in the morning.'

*

‘Hello Mrs. Curtis, Detective Inspector Hobson, I’m investigating the incident you were involved in yesterday. I know the problem you’re having and I don’t want to push but, as an investigator yourself, you’ll appreciate my need for whatever information you can supply.’

Hobson was around fifty years of age, a tall well-dressed man with an easy smile, he oozed charm. He was well spoken with a quiet voice which had the effect of putting me at my ease. Precisely his intention no doubt. Throw in a little flattery, like calling me an investigator just like himself and you’ve got the interviewee eating out of your hand. Why should I be different?

‘Hello Inspector, ask away but let me tell you, there are still things I’m not sure about, although I’m gradually getting there, I think.’

‘Thank you. Now do you ...’

‘Sorry to interrupt but I need to know something. Did they manage to contain the fire OK?’

‘That’s all right. Yes, they did and that is mainly thanks to your prompt action. You’ve become a hero in this part of East London. Anyway, do you recall anything at all about the case you’ve been working on? Is there anything you can tell me about your client?’

I thought for a moment before replying. ‘Damn, here’s the problem, I’d only just become involved in something new. In fact yesterday was pretty much my first day. Look, I can’t swear to it of course but I feel quite strongly that this is all to do with a case I worked last year.’

‘Ah, do you mean that business with the solicitor and the investment banker or advisor or whatever he was?’

‘Yes, and you seem well informed. I suspect you’ve spoken to Cambridge CID.’

‘I did and the DI I spoke to was very complementary about you. So, you acted for the Stafford kids and I gather you were largely responsible for uncovering a murderer and the perpetrators of a sizeable financial scam. Do you remember the names of the people you were up against?’

So far this was easy. ‘The murderer was a woman, Jan Henry. The financial crooks were Daniel Bailey and Richard Levitt.’

‘Good, that’s absolutely right. Do you remember anyone else batting for the other side?’

As he asked, it all came back to me in a flood, including the threatening letter I’d received two weeks earlier. ‘Frank Zelli, that’s it Frank bloody Zelli! He must have followed me yesterday and...and...wait a minute, he didn’t follow me he was waiting for me, him and his gun. But the question is how did he know where I was going?’

‘Presumably it was he who made the appointment telling you where to go. Was it arranged by phone?’

I nodded. ‘Yeah, but aspects of the case were mentioned, things he couldn’t have known abou...wait a minute, that bastard! He must have a tap on my office phone, no other way.’

‘Are you satisfied your client is genuine and has not been working with Zelli to set you up?’

‘Positive. He’s a man whose only interest is protecting his son. The son works in the City and lives in the East End which is why meeting in Stepney seemed plausible. But as soon as I parked, Zelli walked out, drew a silenced hand gun and shot me in the leg, then dragged me into this empty house. The only thing is, it was not Zelli who made the arrangement, I’d have recognized him and even by phone I doubt he’s capable of disguising his voice to that extent.’

Hobson digested this before telling me he’d get everything he could on Zelli from Cambridge CID and he’d be back in to see me. He thanked me and as I watched him leave I thought, you’d better be quick, I expect to be out of here today.

Chapter 2

As I recovered from the sedation Doc Ramsey had administered I remembered my memory now functioned properly. That made me feel a lot better and when I opened my eyes I found myself staring at husband Jim. Now I felt relief and utter delight.

'Hello you. Tell me something will you. Are you trying to kill us all off by constantly feeding us an overdose of worry?'

With that he leaned over and kissed me. It had a much better effect than any medication the hospital had been feeding me.

'Oh Jim, I'm so sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen but at least I know who did it.'

'Yes, scumbag Zelli. I spoke to the police and a DI Hobson brought me up to speed, but enough of that. How are you feeling, how's the leg?'

‘OK, painful at first but I'm pretty sure Zelli intended it to be just a wound. He wanted me to know I was about to burn alive.’ As I spoke, Jim was clenching his jaw so hard I thought he'd end up breaking his teeth.

'Just let me get my hands on him that's all. I'll let him know what it is to die a slow agonizing death.'

We'd been holding hands while he spoke; I thought he was going to break the bones in mine. I yelped.

'Sorry Laura, didn't realize I was squeezing so hard, must have thought I was holding Zelli by the neck.'

In one big rush something came back to me, something important. ‘I'm bursting to know, how'd you get on in Brus...oh my God! I hope this didn't ruin it all for you.'

‘No, relax we’d finished negotiating before I received the call from the cops. It has to be confirmed but everything is looking good. So much so it’s time for you to lead a normal life again. You can worry about domestic issues for a while instead of who’s trying to kill you.’

I found myself resenting his last remark. I’d been good at what I’d been doing and while I couldn’t altogether disagree, I would be the one who decided when to pack it in. Still, now was not the time to argue. I was pleased Jim had been well received in Europe though.

‘That’s great, I’m so happy for you. When do you expect to hear back? Does this mean you’ll now get work from them?’

‘I’ll hear back in three or four days if I’m lucky but as for getting work, no. Not yet anyway. What it means is, if accepted Curtis Developments will be added to a small list of names they deem to be worthy contractors. And we’ll have our foot on the first rung of the ladder. Now, enough of that. According to Doctor Ramsey you may well be released tomorrow so I’m staying nearby overnight. If we get the all-clear I’ll be taking you home.’

‘I’ve had enough of being in here already and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but I do want to go home.’

Jim’s look of tenderness as I said this was a sight to behold. Had I been fit who knows what I might have done. ‘I’ve been shaken up all right but they just want to be sure I’m not going to suffer any contamination, you know, an infection in the wound, so fingers crossed for the morning.’

‘They’re giving you antibiotics anyway aren’t they?’

‘Among other things. I’m very sorry about all this Jim, I know it must have been a real shock for you. Let’s hope they catch Zelli sometime soon.’

He leaned over and kissed me, saying he could see I was ready to sleep again. ‘So, I’ll be back in the morning and Jean will be here with the kids. Until then sleep well my love.’

*

My first visitor the next morning was from the medical staff who, to my delight, told me I would be going home later today. Jim arrived shortly after that and of course he too was pleased to hear the news.

When Jean arrived it was as much as we could do to stop ten-year-old Jack and eight-year-old Emily throwing themselves at me. Not that I minded of course. Finally it was time to go. I was told not to put undue exertion on my left thigh, how often to change the dressing and when I should