The Midnight Stalker

By Maria Johs

A young woman is murdered after a night out with friends. When another woman is killed, Detective Chief Inspector MacLanahan realizes that a serial killer is on the loose in Peartree. MacLanahan and Detective Sergeant Nicholson decide to use a decoy to catch the killer before the body count rises.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481764582

Maria Johs

Maria Johs was born and raised in Germany. She received a Bachelor of Arts degree in Psychology from California State University, Fullerton. She now lives in Colorado.

Book preview

The Midnight Stalker

Maria Johs

US%26UKLogoB%26Wnew.ai

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

© 2013 by Maria Johs. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse    06/11/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-6458-2 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-6457-5 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013910710

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

The Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

The Author

Maria Johs was born and raised in Germany. She received a Bachelor of Arts degree in Psychology from California State University, Fullerton. She now lives in Colorado.

Chapter One

When Detective Chief Inspector MacLanahan left the office and got into his car, he felt a pleasant flutter of excitement. The sun had gone down, but the sky was blue. The air was still and clear, and he knew that the night would be cool and crisp. Being on the Isle of Skye really gave one the sensation of being at the end of the world.

He was on his way to a dinner party given by Jane MacKaren. She was a beautiful woman and a great hostess, but no one would have ascribed to her a vast amount of kindliness. She knew too many people to care for anyone in particular, and the detective couldn’t help wondering why she kept asking him to her parties.

Jane had been born in South Africa and had not come to Scotland till she was eighteen. For a while, she had attended the University of Edinburgh, but after her father’s death, she had inherited a considerable fortune and given up her studies. Then she’d settled in Peartree and devoted herself to a life of a woman about town. She had a house on King Street, furnished with the most beautiful Georgian Court furniture, a housekeeper, and a French chef.

When MacLanahan was shown into the drawing room, most of the guests were already there. Two servants in uniform were walking around, one with a tray of cocktails and the other with a tray of things to eat. The women were pretty in the summer dresses they had been to Paris to buy, and the men, in light suits, looked cool and easy. The windows were open on a formal garden of clipped box, with great stone vases of flowers symmetrically placed and weather-beaten statues of the baroque period. MacLanahan had the sensation that no one there had any worries; everyone seemed to have plenty of money, and everyone seemed ready to enjoy him—or herself.

As the detective came into the room, his hostess warmly greeted him.

We were just talking about you, Chief Inspector, she said, smiling.

I hope it wasn’t anything bad, he replied cheerfully.

We were wondering if you’ve made any progress finding the killer of that poor young girl?

Though she’d spoken facetiously, the detective thought he detected a tone of faint derision, and he felt, as he had vaguely felt before, that she had a cynical contempt for the police.

Not yet, he replied. But it’s early days, and we’re working on it.

I read in the paper that she was—shall we say—a girl of easy virtue.

You know I can’t comment on that, he said with an engaging smile.

Yes, I know you can’t say anything concerning an ongoing investigation, she replied. Perhaps Inspector Roberts is less inclined to be silent on the subject.

She turned away to shake hands with a guest who had just arrived. It was Inspector Roberts. He was tall and slender and had thick brown hair, blue eyes, and a charming smile.

MacLanahan was surprised to see Roberts at the party. Roberts had just been promoted to inspector, and notwithstanding his good looks, he seemed a little out of place at this gathering. Jane saw MacLanahan’s surprise and gave him a little smile of triumph.

The detective realized that if she had been trying to make him jealous, she had succeeded. With his short legs and stocky build, he could hardly compete with Roberts, who was not only the best-looking man on the force but also the darling of women everywhere. MacLanahan, on the other hand, had a barely tolerable figure. He was no more than average height, and in clothes, he looked thickset. But he did have some features he was proud of: he had white, even teeth; he had a good head of light brown hair; and his eyes were fairly large, although they were of a pallid blue generally described as gray.

Inspector Roberts, said Jane, smiling. I hope that you will satisfy my curiosity and tell me what’s going on with the latest murder in Peartree.

Roberts shot a sidelong glance at MacLanahan. If he was surprised by this question, he didn’t show it.

I’m afraid I can’t answer your question, Miss MacKaren, he replied glibly.

Why not? she asked.

There was a moment’s silence. Roberts was no fool. He knew that if he said anything about an ongoing investigation, his career would be over.

It’s not my case, ma’am, he said smoothly. I know nothing about it.

Jane blushed furiously, for she did not like what she had just heard. But it looked as if she wouldn’t get anything out of these policemen. She shrugged and made an effort to assume indifference, which she didn’t quite manage.

Perhaps it’s just as well that I know nothing about it, she said, and she turned to greet Councilman Nugent, who had just arrived.

Councilman Nugent was a handsome, gray-haired man, plethoric and somewhat on the plump side, and he liked to flirt in a light, fatherly way with Jane. He was holding her hands when MacLanahan walked up to them.

I’ve just been telling this girl she’s as pretty as a picture. But I might as well pay compliments to one of the statues around here.

Turned you down flat, has she? asked the detective.

Flat, he replied, his plump cheeks quivering.

I’m sorry to hear it, said the detective with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. But don’t let up, Councilman. You’re bound to soften her up eventually.

He then turned and walked up to Colonel Trip, the traveling Englishman. He was tall, thin, and weather-beaten, with a lean red face, a gray toothbrush mustache, and an air of imbecility. He looked at the detective with shining eyes.

I say, old chap, shouldn’t you be out looking for a killer? he asked, louder than was necessary.

Lower your voice, dear, said his wife. The chief inspector isn’t deaf.

It’s a bad business, said the colonel. Young girl, was she?

The detective, who wasn’t eager to discuss the latest murder in Peartree, shrugged and gave no reply.

Of course, she must have been a bad lot, a thorough wretched one, continued the colonel.

You don’t know that, said his wife.

"I know