Death Illuminated

By Beth Savoie

The past deciphers the future.

 

After making wrong decisions with his first murder investigation, Detective Matthew Compton is glad to still have his position as sergeant. Now he has a string of assaults on prostitutes, and his only lead: cryptic lines from a Medieval book of the dead.

Even though DS Com

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Savoie
• Release date: Nov 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986884103

Beth Savoie

Drawing inspiration from actor Sean Bean, Beth Savoie strives to always have at least one death in her stories, even if it's only implied. She has two published novels, as well as short stories and poems, including in Chicken Soup for the Soul. When not torturing fictional people, Beth can be found in Louisiana working as a Pediatric Nurse Practitioner or hanging out with her other favorite bean in local coffee shops. Envious Score is the first novel in her detective series The Compton and Murray Mysteries.

Book preview

Chapter One

When Detective Sergeant Matthew Compton stepped into the area designated Criminal Investigation Department on Monday morning he wasn’t sure where to go. He wasn’t even sure this would remain his department.

Last week, he’d given up his cubical in the common area for an office with D.I. Murray. It was his first assignment to an inspector as a sergeant. Their first significant case was a double murder. They’d gotten good results, wrapping it up in just a few days, but their working relationship wasn’t as fortunate.

It’s all your fault. A girl was killed in college. A fellow student was the killer. It should’ve been an easy investigation. Since when do you chose the easy way?

Matthew lied to D.I. Murray about a witness and almost shagged a suspect. It was bad enough D.I. Murray told this to a fellow officer. He chose an officer who Matthew didn’t get along with. All of it resulted in them not trusting each other and putting the inspector’s life in danger. Matthew saved the inspector’s life, but was it enough for D.I. Murray to want to continue working with him?

He ran a hand through his hair and nervously fiddled with the St. Jude’s medal he carried. Why even care? You’ll probably be demoted to patrol.

You forget the way to your office? A voice broke into his thoughts. It was Constable Taber.

What do you mean? Matthew snapped at him.

Oh, I’m sorry. You just looked lost there for a moment, Taber answered.

Do you know if D.I. Murray made it in? The exchange felt awkward now that Matthew had acted like a jerk. The consequences of his actions didn’t warrant him taking it out on the constable.

Yes, as a matter of fact. He’s talking with the chief right now.

Okay, thanks. He’d dreaded talking to Murray, but this was worse.

Matthew’s palms became sweaty as he clenched his St. Jude’s medal. Maybe this time the saint would take pity on him. He hated the thought of working with someone who would shop him like Murray did, but if Murray kept him as a bagman, that meant Matthew kept his rank as a detective sergeant as well.

He heard a door open and then laughter. D.C.I. Levine and D.I. Murray walked down the hallway from the chief’s office.

I’ll let you get on then, Jacob, Levine said. He saw Matthew standing there. Oh, good, you’re here, Compton. Come to my office.

Matthew had hoped this would play out differently, but when D.I. Murray averted his gaze, Matthew knew it wasn’t going to go well.

Yes, sir, Matthew said, heading down the hall toward the office. Levine followed. The chief’s secretary gave him a sympathetic smile as he walked by. Normally, he would return hers with his own grin, but today he was too preoccupied to even give her a nod. He entered the office and waited. Levine spoke with his secretary for a moment, and then went in.

Have a seat. Levine motioned toward the chair in front of his desk. Matthew sat, but on the edge. He ran a hand nervously through his hair. Levine closed the door and sat behind his desk. He dispensed with the pleasantries. Look, I know the transition from constable to sergeant isn’t always easy.

Matthew didn’t know what to say. It felt prudent to keep quiet for now.

As an officer, though, we have to be able to put aside our emotions and remain objective.

He’s talking about being in the alley with Kanti Mishra.

We can only hope our mistakes don’t prove to have dire consequences.

Matthew felt his heart race. He wasn’t going to be forgiven for putting Inspector Murray in peril. He was about to be demoted. But we aren’t only officers. We’re also imperfect human beings. Then there was the business with your brother being injured, Levine continued.

The second day of the investigation Matthew had to deal with his brother, Titus, being in a shunt. He was okay, but Matthew hadn’t handled the situation well. He willed the man to get to the point. I’m going back to uniform.

All that being said, I’m going to give you a chance. Levine sat back in his chair.

But, sir, if I can just explain, Matthew started to say, before what the chief said registered. Wait, does that mean I’m not being sent down, sir?

You’ll stay a sergeant, Levine said. Just not with Inspector Murray. It was hard to know if St. Jude was actually on his side in this. It was the best scenario: he kept his rank but didn’t have to work with Murray. So why do I feel like I let D.I. Murray down?

Whatever you think is best, sir. I appreciate not losing my rank.

You’ll be with Inspector Harper when he needs you. Otherwise, you’ll be in the pool.

D.I. Frank Harper? Matthew bit his tongue to keep from protesting. Harper was worse than being demoted.

Okay, sir, Matthew answered. Before he could stop himself, he asked, Sir, did D.I. Murray say anything?

What D.I. Murray and I discussed is none of your concern.

With the adrenaline gone, his brain wasn’t as focused, and he started speaking before thinking. I wasn’t asking for details, just, well . . . Did he think I should keep my rank or say nice things?

You sound like you want to be back in uniform on King’s Road.

No, no! Matthew’s sense kicked in. I’m sorry, sir. It’s just, well—I’m sorry.

Levine looked amused, but Matthew couldn’t be sure. It almost sounds like you’re disappointed.

Matthew gripped the medal harder. He was glad to have a reason to not work with D.I. Murray. It’s his call, he answered. Is there anything else, sir?

No, just report to Harper, the chief said in a tone that let Matthew know he was dismissed.

Yes, sir. Matthew started toward the door.

Compton, Levine said. Matthew turned back to him. Don’t make me regret this.

Yes, sir.

On the way to Harper’s office, Matthew thought about that. Even though the admonishment wasn’t without merit, it bothered him that the chief had so little faith in him.

He found Harper at his desk shuffling through papers. He stood in the doorway for a moment. When the inspector didn’t look up, he cleared his throat. That got Harper’s attention.

Oh, Compton, he said. Well, what do you want?

Chief Levine said I was to report to you, sir, Matthew answered.

Did he? Harper frowned. Well, then, make yourself useful. He took a bunch of papers and thrust them toward Matthew. I hate paperwork.

Matthew took the stack from him. Yes, sir. He looked around. There wasn’t a desk, save the one.

I really don’t care. Don’t you have a desk?

I did. He realized he’d have to clear his things from D.I. Murray’s space, but he didn’t know where he was supposed to put them. Now? Not so much.

Not my problem. Harper waved his hand. Find somewhere in the pool.

Matthew clutched the stack of papers. Yes, sir, he said through clenched teeth. Harper would not get to him.

Matthew walked out to where the others were already at their cubicles. Some were talking, and some were typing. He cringed when he saw Alice Johnson. She looked up at him and smiled.

Under his breath, he muttered, Please don’t come over here.

She walked over to him. Sergeant Compton, do you need anything? A space, maybe?

It took all he had not to throw the papers at her and tell her to get to work on them. Six months prior, they both had taken their sergeant’s exam. She hadn’t passed. It meant he now outranked her. Any other officer, he might feel sorry for. But given their history, and that for once he’d come out on top academically, he was happy to lord it over her.

Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you.

She led him to an empty cubicle. This was Sergeant Palmer’s, but recently he was assigned to a D.I., so I’m sure he won’t mind you taking it. Maybe I could help you?

Matthew tensed. There was only one inspector in need of a sergeant. It hadn’t taken long for Levine to assign a new bagman to D.I. Murray. As if they’d planned it this weekend. Matthew set the papers on the desk. Photos of a woman and two children at various ages were taped to the computer monitor. Probably Palmer’s family. He remembered the man was married and had a couple of kids. Teens, maybe?

A weirdly shaped ashtray held an odd assortment of office paraphernalia—paperclips, staples, rubber bands. It made him think of his own makeshift tray at home. His came from a secondhand shop. Palmer’s was probably a gift, lovingly made and given by one of the children in the photos. He remembered D.I. Murray putting out photos of his family first thing. He felt Alice’s stare as she stood there, no doubt waiting for an angry reply. He wasn’t going to satisfy her with it.

Thank you, Constable. I’m sure Palmer and I will be able to make the trade on our own.

Okay, well, let me know if you need anything, Sergeant. She went back to her area.

Matthew looked through the paperwork Harper had given him. There were reports that needed to be translated into monthlies. Harper was not famous for getting the tedious things done. Matthew had a feeling this new assignment would be doing a lot of Harper’s grunt work. Jobs for a constable, not a sergeant.

But he couldn’t argue the point since his situation was of his own making. From the very beginning, he and D.I. Murray were at odds. And why did he care anyway? Murray went on about being able to trust his sergeant and working together, then went and told Alice Matthew’s indiscretion. Plus, the man had his own issues, including headaches that interfered with his work, and sometimes he forgot things. And, if D.I. Murray had answered Matthew’s calls, he wouldn’t have ended up in such a dangerous situation. It was better to be rid of Murray.

You sound disappointed. The chief’s words echoed through him. Was he disappointed? Or was he just angry at himself for his stupid choices?

Hey, Compton. Matthew looked up to see D.S. Leo Palmer looking over the cubicle partition. Johnson said you were over here.

I’m sure she did. It seems it will be my new home, Matthew tried not to sound snarky. This wasn’t Palmer’s fault. Palmer and Murray would be a better fit, anyway.

Well, I hope you don’t mind. I got these from your desk. He reached over to hand Matthew a pen and half a pack of cigarettes, along with his lighter. The books on the shelf. You can leave them if you want. They won’t be in my way.

Matthew’s first reaction was to be angry. They were already trying to shove him out, but Palmer’s face gave a different picture. The man was trying to be conciliatory, even pleasant.

Thank you, but I wouldn’t leave them in your way. I’ll clear them out, Matthew answered. If Murray didn’t want him, he would oblige the man.

Okay, well, when you’re not busy, I’ll move my things out of your way.

Matthew needed a smoke. Just monthlies here, so nothing pressing. I was thinking of stepping out for a moment anyway.

He was almost to the lift when he heard his name being called. Harper was yelling for him. Matthew rolled his eyes. He went to the inspector’s office.

Sir, Matthew said. Harper handed him a piece of paper with the name of a local petrol station on it.

Go check that out. A clerk called in an assault. SOCO is also on their way. Ring me if there’s something to it.

Sir. Matthew was glad Harper didn’t want to do the job. It was a sergeant’s work, or even a P.C.’s. But it wasn’t paperwork.

He stopped by his new cubicle. Palmer was almost done clearing it out. The monthlies Harper tasked him with caught his eye. Pettiness got the better of him.

Constable Johnson, take care of these for D.I. Harper. Thank you, he said as he dropped them in front of Alice. They made a satisfying smack on her desk. He didn’t wait for her response.

Chapter Two

Detective Inspector Jacob Murray settled into his chair. He took a deep breath to slow his racing heart. It was foolish that seeing Compton in the hallway had triggered his anxiety. He leaned forward and put his head in his trembling hands, reflexively rubbing the scar on his right temple. A migraine threatened.

This is ridiculous, Jacob chided himself. He was an experienced detective who’d had to confront unprofessional subordinates before. Compton certainly wasn’t one of the worst.

The difference was one of timing. This was Jacob’s first assignment after a ten-month medical leave. He’d been shot during a drugs raid gone bad. It had been a long year for him and his family. Kent CID was supposed to be a quiet easing back into the job. His first case, being a murder, wasn’t overwhelming. Homicide was something he knew.

Compton is the issue. The minute he thought it, he felt guilty. It really wasn’t Compton’s fault that Kanti Mishra became fixated on him. Compton was young and green. A single lad like him was bound to think further south than his head sometimes. Plus, in the middle of it all that, he had a family emergency. It was no wonder he had made some poor choices.

It was Jacob’s own fault their murderer had tried to kill him. Compton had tried to warn him, but he’d ignored the sergeant. Jacob had his own suspicions. All in all, it was foolish to interview Mishra alone. Compton had saved his life.

But Compton was the reason I was there alone in the first place.

It was a week of miscommunications, lying, and poor decisions It all lead to his decision not to work with Compton. It was better for both of them.

Jacob thought back to how his boss, D.C.I. Daniel Levine, responded to Jacob’s not wanting to work with the sergeant.

I understand, was all he’d said, but it was the way he’d said it. Daniel appeared disappointed, though why the chief would be that concerned was not clear to Jacob. Unless the chief thought Jacob wasn’t fit for work.

As Jacob thought back to his conversation with D.C.I. Levine, his migraine went from mild to moderate.

Are you sure? Last week you said you were working out the kinks.

Jacob couldn’t tell if he was talking as his boss, D.C.I. Daniel Levine, or his friend, Daniel. Either way, Jacob wasn’t expecting that response.

He’s clever, no doubt. But maybe he’s too clever for his own good. I’m sure at some point he’ll be a good sergeant.

Jacob wasn’t sure how to explain himself. He was feeling guilty for not keeping Compton on, but he needed someone more reliable, especially since he didn’t trust himself. The headaches and the memory loss were hard to cover. Compton had seen through it, but for some reason didn’t say anything to him or Daniel. Jacob wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Jacob had fooled the doctors enough to let him go home, and even start back to work. But, if they’d known how bad it really was, they wouldn’t have declared him fit for work. Not even here, in Kent, where his good friend was in charge.

He does have some settling in to do, Daniel agreed.

Jacob didn’t know how to say. It’s not him, it’s me.

Inspector Murray, sir? A knock interrupted his thoughts. Jacob looked up to see a young man standing in the doorway.

Yes.

I’m D.S. Leo Palmer. Chief Levine told me to report to you.

Last week, his first impressions of Compton had been that he was a California surfer and too confident for his own good. Palmer was the opposite, exuding settled family man. Jacob wondered if Daniel chose Palmer for that reason.

Jacob came around the desk to greet him. He extended his hand but pulled back when he couldn’t steady it, leaving Palmer’s hanging.

Stupid. Weak. Oh, yes. You can have that area, I guess. Jacob waved to the smaller desk. The space contained few items. He realized Compton hadn’t brought anything, as if he hadn’t intended to stay.

Very good, sir. Palmer went around to the desk. He sat down with more confidence than Compton did the first time he was there. Jacob wondered what it would be like to be paired with the lad.

Do you have anything you’re working on? Jacob asked, not knowing what else to say.

At least with Compton, they had met in action, so there weren’t the awkward-stranger moments to fill in.

Nothing exciting. One might pique your interest.

What is it?

A grades scheme. Palmer shuffled through his stacks. Ah, here it is. He came around to give it to Jacob, still looking at it. A Professor Crenshaw was listed. Wasn’t he involved in your murders last week? He handed Jacob the folder and then returned to his own space. Someone called in a tip on Thursday moning.

While Jacob was looking it over, Palmer took a few items from the desk: a pen, a partial pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. Besides the books, that was the sum of D.S. Compton’s being there. He felt guilty again. He didn’t even give the sergeant a chance to establish himself

To be honest, this is a nonissue. The tip was from the murderer to implicate the professor. It doesn’t even involve us. The university will investigate any wrongdoings involving grades, Jacob said as he closed the folder. He was telling Palmer the truth, and reliving it all threatened not just a worse migraine, but a panic attack. He needed to change the subject. What about your others?

They’re hardly anything for a D.I., sir. Probably things I could pass on to someone else. Palmer was hesitant, which Jacob could understand. Most of what Kent had to offer probably didn’t warrant a four-power conference, but Jacob wanted to stay busy.

I know, but it’s better than me cooling my heels while you do all the work.

The sergeant looked surprised. Well, then, in that case. He took all the folders and came to the front of Jacob’s desk again. If you want to look at these, I’ll clear my things from my cubicle for the next bloke.

That’s fine. I’ll be here enjoying the read.

Jacob looked through the folders. Two were breaking and entering. One was a complaint from a shop owner regarding chronic shoplifting, and the final was a stolen vehicle. Unless the criminals weren’t that bright, it would be difficult to find the perpetrator. Those usually didn’t have a lot of leads.

Palmer soon returned with things in hand. He proceeded to tape photos to the new monitor and placed a misshapen ashtray on the desk. In just five minutes, it looked like Palmer had been there for a while. Compton came to mind again. These two were so different. Maybe that was a good thing.

So why did he miss the sergeant he barely worked with for a week? The sergeant he said he didn’t want

Anything catch your interest, sir? Palmer asked as he adjusted a stapler.

Not exactly. I guess we can start with the auto theft. Tell us about that.

They were looking up local chop shops when the phone rang. Jacob answered. It was the desk sergeant.

We have reports of a body found at Channing Financial.

What can you tell me about it?

Not a whole lot. Just that the first on scene said something about a gunshot wound.

Okay, we’re on our way. Jacob rang off.

On our way to where, sir?

We have a body found. Do you know where Channing Financial is? Jacob asked.

A body?

Jacob thought he sounded nervous.

I’ve heard of Channing, but not sure where it is. Palmer looked it up on his mobile.

Have you worked a homicide before?

Of sorts. I just . . . ,don’t like the bodies, to be honest, Palmer answered. Okay, got it. I know the location.

Can’t say they’re my favorites, either, Jacob said, even though most of his career had been dealing with them.

As they left, Jacob got a feeling of déjà vu. He hoped this case would prove to be less dramatic.

Chapter Three

The assault took Matthew out to Morrison’s Petrol Station on Ten Perch Road. He looked at his gauge. He happened to need a fill-up anyway.

The report from Harper was sketchy. A clerk called in an assault on a female victim but didn’t give any more than that. He pulled in next to one of the pumps and got out, deciding to question the clerk first and fill up before he left. Scene of crime officers were getting out of their van, parked at the edge of the building.

There was only one customer in the shop. As the clerk finished the sale. Matthew looked around. Nothing indicated that an attack had happened. The atmosphere was, in fact, normal and calm. He hoped the clerk on duty now was the same one who rang the station.

Detective Sergeant Matthew Compton. He introduced himself, showing his warrant card. I understand someone phoned in an assault.

Yeah, that was me. It was weird, the clerk answered. His nametag read Byron. He came from behind the counter.

Where did it happen?

Out back. I can take you.

That would be great. As he followed the clerk, Matthew asked, Byron. Like Lord Byron?

Yeah, my mum’s crazy for him.

Lucky you.

There’s the spot. Byron pointed to the back corner of the building.

There was a small patch of grass and a brick wall separating it from the road, so the attack would have been shielded from witnesses.

Where’s the victim? Matthew thought to get a statement first.

In the office, Byron said, hesitating with the answer. Matthew tried not to look frustrated. Byron could’ve said that first.

Since he was already there, he looked around the area. Nothing was unusual until he got close to the rubbish bin. There was some debris, but an earring stuck out among the rest. It was a dangling teardrop-shaped piece of flat metal, promising both that it could belong to their victim and might give fingerprints and an identity. He hadn’t thought to bring any evidence bags, so he left it for the scene officers.

He took a step away for some fresh air, dreading the next search—inside the bins. The pungent aroma of rotting food was bad enough standing next to it. He would rather leave it for SOCO, but there probably wasn’t anything to be had from it, anyway. Just a quick look was all it needed. They weren’t that much bigger than the bins he had at home.

Lifting the lid, he was glad he’d skipped breakfast. Someone had tossed in raw fish. This, added to the rotten vegetables, sticky soda, and juices, was a feast any vermin would love.

Foraging for food, Sergeant? One of the scene officers asked as they approached. There was one for evidence and one for photos. An assault didn’t warrant too much manpower. He was surprised that there were even two.

Left it all for you, Matthew put the lid down. He glanced in the bin next to it and found similar smells and sights. But nothing useful, though next to that one, there’s an earring. Not my type, but it may belong to our victim. He pointed out the jewelry. Also, there’s this here. He pointed to a dent and dark spot. Maybe blood. I’ll know more after I talk to our victim.

Anything else or do we get to look, too? the photographer joked.

SOCO had everything in hand back here. I’ll leave it to you to it, then.

Byron led him back into the store. A few customers came in while they were gone, but at this point, they were shopping. They walked behind the counter. The office was at the end.

The area behind the cash register was a combination of organized and messy, depending on what was visible to the customer. Byron noticed him looking.

We meant to clean that up, he said. But the office isn’t any better.

He wasn’t wrong. There were papers strewn on a desk. Boxes were on top of them, as well as on the desk chair and against the wall. On a wall shelf beside the desk was a recording set up for CCTV. Cords from it led to a computer on the desk itself.

What wasn’t there was a human being. Where’s the victim? He turned to Byron, who was back at the register with a customer. He finished up before he answered.

It’s on the CCTV footage, like I told them when I called.

Matthew took a deep breath and let it out. What do you mean?

Byron sat in front of the computer and started clicking. I came in today and noticed some bins overturned on the side near the back. We’ve been having trouble with animals, but also vandals, so when I called my manager, he gave me permission to look at the footage. I found this.

He pushed a button and a grainy black and white video began to play. There was nothing for a few moments.

No actual victim? Matthew kept his tone even. Either the clerk didn’t make it clear or someone at the station hadn’t listened well.

Not in person, no, but look at this, Byron pointed to the screen.

From around the back corner, what appeared to be a man was walking backwards. He had his arm around a figure, possibly a woman. She was struggling, as far as Matthew could tell.

It looks like one’s got an arm around the other’s neck, Matthew commented.

I thought so too. And she looks like she’s fighting him.

Those aren’t customers?

I’ve never seen them before.

As the film went on, the two moved closer to the rubbish bins by the corner. In the fight, it looked like the bigger one lost balance and hit the side of the building, knocking over one of the bins. It gave the smaller one leverage to get away.

As she turned, it became clear it was a woman. She punched at her assailant, though he was able to grab her hands. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her so her back was toward the building. When he pushed her, she hit the wall. Her body went limp. Matthew couldn’t tell for sure, but thought she hit her head against the siding. The dark spot was probably blood.

I need to get back out front. Byron paused the video. Matthew let him pass. He could tell the clerk wanted to stay with him, but customers were waiting. It goes on for about another ten minutes.

Fine. I’ll call you when it’s finished. Matthew resumed the footage.

Her assailant let her slide down the wall. He knelt in front of her, made sure she was propped up, and leaned in so his face was next to hers. Matthew couldn’t make out if he said or did anything. He straightened, faced her for about two minutes, then left around the corner where they had came from.

About five minutes later, the woman roused, stood up slowly, looked around, and ran off toward the front of the station, out of view of the camera.

There had been an assault. The time stamp was 1:33 a.m. When he got back to the station, he could check, but as it was probably a solicitation or drug deal gone bad, there wasn’t likely going to be a report.

Did you get everything you needed? Byron asked as Matthew walked out.

As much as there is. Honestly, without someone pressing charges, it’s just, well, an interesting video. Matthew didn’t mean to sound harsh. Byron had a long face. Still, it was good to report it. You never know.

Because it’s bloody brilliant when people waste police time and resources. He shouldn’t complain too much, though, since it had gotten him away from Harper and Murray.

Give us a pack of those Pall Mall, if you don’t mind. He wasn’t out, but since they were available and cheap, Matthew took advantage. Also, I’d like ten in petrol.

Byron rang him up, still looking disappointed. Even though it was aggravating, Matthew felt bad for him. This was probably the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him. Still, maybe give us a copy of the video.

Seriously? His face brightened.

Must be ready if anybody does report something. Not that it would really help, but at least Byron would feel better.

I can get it while you fill up. Byron was eager now. It gave Matthew a good excuse to wrap it up.

Before going to the pump, he went back to the scene. SOCO was packing it in. Anything else? he asked.

No, unless you want us to bag it all, came the answer.

That would be a nightmare nobody wanted, especially for this. I don’t think we have the budget for that.

We’ll need details for processing. Who’s our victim? What did they say? one asked.

I wasn’t able to talk to them, Matthew said. It was just something caught on video.

What? both said at the same time.

The clerk was checking the bins, noticed something off, and checked CCTV, Matthew explained. Their looks said it all.

So, we just wasted our time?

Maybe. Hang on. A quick call to the station told them that nobody had reported anything in that area at that time. Matthew half hoped it would turn up something to justify their presence.

Well, there you go then, the officer said. What are we supposed to do with all this? He held up what they collected.

I don’t know, Matthew answered. Call her Jane Doe for now, I suppose. He shrugged. Just one more box to collect dust.

Matthew glanced around one last time after SOCO left. He was killing time before going back to—what? Probably more busywork. He noticed a piece of paper a few meters away. It looked like parchment, but it felt like copy paper. The edges were torn, as if it had been ripped from a larger piece and had a line from a poem on it. It seemed familiar, though he couldn’t recall why.

We ben in glory and worldy favour full of all welth, richesse, and substaunce.

Probably Old English. Not that it mattered, he thought, as he folded it and put it in his pocket. Though interesting, this was Canterbury. Most likely rubbish from a Chaucer tourist thing. Matthew hated the Canterbury Tales for that reason. It’s a curious thing to find there, though.

While he was filling his car, Byron brought a flash drive. Here’s the copy. I really thought they knew it was a video when I called.

It’s okay, Matthew said, realizing the clerk picked up on his annoyance. He took out a cigarette and lit it.

Hey, that might not be the best idea. Byron pointed to the no smoking sign by the pumps.

Matthew put the cigarette and lighter back in his pocket. Now you’re becoming annoying.

Chapter Four

Located in an old building on High Street that was two stories high, an ordinary glass front announced the name of the business, Channing Financial Group, in large, green block letters. They had to park in a public space across the street. Jacob noted, except for the police cars out front and in the car park, everything was normal. People walking by glanced in the building, but only with mild curiosity before continuing on their way. There was nothing to indicate anything untoward had happened.

Inside, it was a different story. Customers and employees stood