Criminally Good Stories Volume 2: 20 Private Investigator Mystery Short Stories: Criminally Good Mystery Stories, #2

By Connor Whiteley

Second Volume in the acclaimed mystery series!

For years Connor Whiteley has written plenty of compelling, suspenseful, best-selling mystery short stories spanning multiple subgenres and selling to top magazines like Pulphouse Fiction Magazine.

For the first time ever, Connor Whiteley collects 100 mystery short stories in five brilliant themed collections.

This volume explores private investigator fiction in all its forms from heart-stopping holiday-themed private eye stories to shocking gut-punching female private investigator stories and so much more. Mystery readers will love this riveting volume of Criminally Good Stories.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: CGD Publishing
• Release date: Apr 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215515174

Connor Whiteley

Hello, I'm Connor Whiteley, I am an 18-year-old who loves to write creatively, and I wrote my Brownsea trilogy when I was 14 years old after I went to Brownsea Island on a scout camp. At the camp, I started to think about how all the broken tiles and pottery got there and somehow a trilogy got created.Moreover, I love writing fantasy and sci-fi novels because you’re only limited by your imagination.In addition, I'm was an Explorer Scout and I love camping, sailing and other outdoor activities as well as cooking.Furthermore, I do quite a bit of charity work as well. For example: in early 2018 I was a part of a youth panel which was involved in creating a report with research to try and get government funding for organised youth groups and through this panel. I was invited to Prince Charles’ 70th birthday party and how some of us got in the royal photograph.Finally, I am going to university and I hope to get my doctorate in clinical psychology in a few years.

Book preview

CHRISTMAS INNOCENCE

Letting out a long breath of the cold bitter air with hints of Christmas spices from nearby market stalls, Francis lent against the cold white bricks of an abandoned pub. He loved the chilling feel of the bricks that chilled his flesh right to the bone.

He carefully looked side to side as he inspected everyone, he smiled at all the happy laughing children in their big coats and their parents holding them as everyone stood on each side of the large London Street. Ignoring all the abandoned white-bricked shops and pubs that lined the street.

Looking over the smooth road, Francis only saw more people but on the other side there were people dressed in Santa costumes and even reindeers.

Francis had never really understood why people decided to dress up for these occasions. Sure he loved Christmas, it was an amazing time for families and he looked forward to giving his grandchildren all their presents. But dressing up?

He wasn’t sure about it. Children he could understand and his smile deepened as he remembered playing with his youngest grandchildren in their elf costumes last year. But adults? Come on. Francis knew that was a bit childish.

The sound of more laughing and children getting excited drew Francis’ attention back to the moment as he focused on the darkening sky.

It was time.

As a Private Eye, Francis loved this time of year because he always got a lot of customers. His favourite were when worried spouses came to him wanting to investigate their other halves because they were spending a little too long Christmas shopping.

Francis shook his head as he remembered how most of the time these other halves were honestly just Christmas shopping, trying to make sure they picked the perfect gift for their amazing wife or husband.

Then Francis frowned as he recalled all the times where his clients were right. The other halves were cheating but what made Francis love his job was none of the clients who came to him were ever annoyed at him. They were happy their other halves were cheating. And after Francis agreed to wrap up the photos and other evidence in Christmas paper, he got even more clients.

But this wasn’t a cheating case today.

The smell of Christmas spices filled the air as a large woman walked past Francis with a mince pie or two (or three) in her hand. Francis loved this time of year.

But he was here to work so he turned his head slightly to the right, exactly where the Christmas parade would be and in there, his target would be.

Jerric Oflot. He was not a good man, he was cruel, sadistic and a stalker. Francis hoped this case went better than his first one all those decades ago.

Francis hated to admit he actually considered not taking the case when he was sitting in his favourite café near Convent Gardens. It was the barista, Grace, who worked there that was getting stalked, it seemed innocent at first but Francis had overheard too many conversations of Grace getting scared.

Francis wasn’t expecting a long, tragic story from Grace when she told him everything but he agreed to get rid of Jerric.

A small smile formed on Francis’ face when he remembered Grace didn’t know what type of Private Eye he was normally. He was a fixer and he made problems go away, only problems he thought deserved it, all the other problems Francis left for people without a conscience. But he felt sorry for Grace so he took the case.

With a group of green elves starting to dance down the road, Francis pulled his long black trench coat straight and pulled his baseball cap over his face some more

Francis slowly started to glide through the crowd and towards the parade.

He needed to get to the street corner where the parade was coming from so when the parade had gone past and Jerric was a Santa at the back. Francis could grab him because everyone would be focused on following the parade.

After a few minutes of walking through the crowd, Francis got to the street corner which went on to meet a few abandoned streets and he smiled as he saw the small Jerric dressed Santa.

But there were people walking behind him, Francis shook his head, the parade must have started on another street and people would be following behind it.

Damn it!

Francis was hardly impressed, he had no idea what to do, he couldn’t grab Jerric in broad daylight, he wasn’t stupid and there were too many kids about. Francis didn’t want them to see a murder or abduction.

To his surprise, Francis saw the Jerric Santa move away from the parade and walk towards him. Francis didn’t know whether to laugh or smile.

He took a step back as Jerric walked towards him and Francis rested his back against the black wooden door of another abandoned pub. The door opened slightly and Francis smiled as his plan would work.

The sound of fireworks and We wish you a merry Christmas deafened Francis as Jerric walked past. No one would be able to hear a scream.

Jerric walked past.

Francis grabbed him.

Getting him into a headlock.

Jerric kicked.

Francis dragged him inside.

No one saw a thing.

Giving Jerric a hard whack across the face, Francis threw him onto the ground.

Even though, Francis couldn’t see much through the darkness. He managed to make out a few rows of wooden tables and a bar in the middle of the room with piles of smashed glass around it and a couple of bright red (but very dirty) sleeping bags in the far corner.

The air smelt of stale air with hints of gins and spirits that Francis couldn’t identify. He always loved a drink back in the day but that was long before he met his precious late wife Sue and even longer before they had children.

After doing PI stuff for decades, Francis knew all too well what drink could make a person do. He rather preferred to remove the temptation than risk ever doing the bad things he saw every day.

The sounds of Christmas songs and laughter sounded so far away now they were in the darkness of the abandoned pub. It sounded muffled and eerie like Francis was going deaf.

He knew he wasn’t, but he did love the quiet.

Through the darkness, Francis made sure to look out for any homeless people in case they bore witness to his actions (whatever they were going to be). Despite the two sleeping bags, he thankfully didn’t see any but Francis was a bit surprised. This would be a perfect place for them to be warm and safe.

A tiny part of Francis wanted to be hopeful that perhaps the homeless people had moved into shelter or got off the streets for good. But he knew that was rarely how the real world worked, he had helped more homeless than he cared to admit but they were always more dying in the cold than he could ever help.

Hopefully that hadn’t happened this time.

The sound of Jerric moving made Francis walk over to him and place the sole of his black boot into Jerric’s throat. Francis made sure Jerric looked at him.

He needed Jerric to remember his terrifying cold face whenever he wanted to think or hurt Grace.

Francis smiled as he stared into the bright green eyes of Jerric Oflot. His Santa beard was next to him so Francis studied his pathetic face, it was a strange round shape with smooth white skin and a handful of cuts and bruises.

He rolled his eyes as Francis knew they were from worthless fights Jerric had been in with the various criminals of London. It was all so pointless, Jerric could have made something of himself but he decided to waste his life in criminality. Francis was determined to make his regret that choice.

Who are ya man? he said.

Francis didn’t move nor smile.

Come on man, what the hell? This ain’t cool,

Francis shook his head. "It ain’t cool to stalk people,"

Jerric’s eyes widened.

Who sent ya man? Charlotte? Grace? Davis? Danielle?

Francis just stared at the pathetic low life in front of him. He should have known there were more girls, there always were.

He pressed his boot harder into Jerric’s throat.

You leave them all alone,

Na man. The girls are mine. Ya can have one if ya want,

Francis kicked him in the head.

He was a disgrace. Women, girls were not property!

Francis backed away. Leaving Jerric to hold his head as he tried to think of what was next.

Walking over to the wooden bar, Francis saw a large intact golden bottle of Jack Daniels and he grabbed it.

Francis raised it.

Allow me, a small voice said behind him.

Francis frowned and turned around to see a short extremely attractive young woman walk in. Her long blond hair was perfectly straight and her entire body was covered in a thick white (fake) fur coat.

See old man, ma girl goanna safe me,

Grace frowned.

Come on bitch, come to ya daddy,

Grace turned to Francis. Please let me hit him,

Francis stared into her young innocent eyes. As much as he wanted to, he knew Jerric deserved it, Francis couldn’t let an innocent person be turned into him. Hitting Jerric with a bottle would almost certainly kill him, especially with his skull already fragile from his kick.

You don’t want to be like me. You aren’t a killer, Francis said.

Please. Let me kick him then, Grace asked.

Francis could see the desperation in her eyes. She needed this, maybe it would help her to feel in control again.

Remembering the very first stalker case he worked on, he remembered how badly the girl struggled. She was out of control, abused constantly by the stalker and everything she did the stalker influenced it. She lost her job, her kids, her home. The stalker could charm anyone to do whatever he wanted.

Everything was about control.

Francis still hated himself a little for not being able to help her recover even now. She killed herself a year later. Francis (like everyone else) couldn’t just forget that.

Shaking his head at himself (or his conscience), he looked at Grace.

One kick then you go. Please, Francis said, not trying to hide the fear in his voice.

Grace nodded.

As she slowly walked over to Jerric, Francis smiled a little as he saw the fear grow in the pathetic stalker’s eyes as he finally realised how weak he was.

Francis turned around for the next bit.

Grace kicked him.

When Francis turned around again, he saw Jerric holding his manhood and heard the door shut behind Grace. He still wasn’t sure if he had done the right thing but he hoped it would allow Grace to heal.

Walking back over to Jerric as he continued to moan and hold his manhood, Francis raised the bottle high over his head.

He bought it down.

The bottle smashed on Jerric’s head. Shattering.

Shards of glass sliced into his head and blood poured out.

As Francis placed the glass bottle neck he held in his hand in his pocket, he walked away. Leaving Jerric’s body for the rats and other creatures of London to feast on.

The sound of Christmas songs and the smell of rich Christmas spices filled the air as Francis blended in with the crowd and followed the parade.

After a few minutes of walking with the tight crowd, Francis’ phone went off and his eyes narrowed as he saw it was Grace. He looked around and answered.

I was never going to kill him. I’m not you, Grace said.

I’m glad to hear it. You’ll be safe from now on I promise,

I know you would get the job done. That’s why I chose you,

Francis’ eyebrows rose then he smiled.

You knew exactly what sort of PI I was when you hired me, didn’t you?

Francis could hear her smile behind the phone.

Of course Francis. I know everything you’ve ever done. I just have one question for you,

Francis wanted to hang up but he was at least a little curious.

You saved me today. You stopped me from going down the path of darkness. But who will save you?

She hung up.

As Francis continued to walk through the crowd, listening to the Christmas songs and breathing in the amazing Christmas spices. He wondered about her words, he had no idea who she was because she clearly wasn’t a barista. But it was her words that interested Francis more than anything.

If she really knew everything about him then Francis didn’t know why she didn’t ask him about his other cases. She asked him about who would save him, Francis just didn’t know why.

The parade turned a corner and out onto a street filled with hundreds upon hundreds of bright golden Christmas lights. Francis smiled as he dismissed whoever Grace really was, because he knew exactly who would save him.

The same people who had been saving him for decades, his wife, children and grandchildren. They were the ones that kept him grounded and stopped him from going too far. He loved them and Francis would never give them up for the world.

So as Francis slipped out of the parade and headed home to his family (the only people that mattered in his world), Francis couldn’t stop smiling as he listened to the innocence of the children laughing and having fun in the distance.

At least he had saved one person today and kept them on the path of innocence.

––––––––

CHRISTMAS THEFT

Walking along the small brown corridor of the university accommodation, Bettie tried to ignore the horrible brown carpet and the smooth bright yellow walls but that was hard. Too hard. Even when she went to this same university here in Canterbury, England a few decades ago, she never could appreciate the university’s design choice.

As she passed more and more wooden doors with their little hotel keypads on the outside, Bettie breathed in the typical smell of university. Weed, and lots of it. She could even see smoke coming out from one of the doors and Bettie coughed as she passed it.

She knew it was normal at university to smoke weed, she never did but she knew basically everyone else did. Yet surely these university students should have more sense to smoke outside and not in their rooms.

Shaking the thoughts away, Bettie kept walking along the corridor, listening to the talking, laughing and even singing in the rooms as she went. That was something she missed about university, the community. Sure Bettie didn’t like the partying aspects of it but she had made some great friends, and she supposed it was a lot easier to make friends back then compared to now.

Bettie looked ahead as she saw lots of wooden doors with dirty glass in the middle coming up ahead. She still had no idea why the university needed to separate the corridor into mini-sections but that was life.

Opening one of the cold wooden doors, Bettie thought about why she was here again after all these years. Being a Private Eye was a great job, she loved it and she loved being available to unofficially break rules time to time.

A wave of unease washed over Bettie as she remembered the panicked text message from her nephew. The text was chaotic and aggressive, he was clearly annoyed but he wasn’t responding to any of Bettie’s texts. So after she had calmed down and realised that the text didn’t mean he was in danger, she actually read it. Her Nephew Sean wanted her to come and see him immediately.

Bettie still felt uneasy about all this yet something she couldn’t understand was why he wanted to hire her. Sure, it was one thing to ask for your aunt to come to your aid, Bettie would have loved this. But Sean wanted, no insisted on hiring her, Bettie just didn’t know why.

Breathing in another awful breath of weed smoke, she was starting to regret her choice and maybe thought she should have arranged to meet him outside. Bettie shook her head at that idea, she wouldn’t do that. She loved her nephew and she had a feeling there was something he didn’t want her sister to know about.

Just the thought of that made Bettie’s stomach tighten into a knot, she hated the idea of her nephew being in trouble. But the idea of Bettie being the only one who could save him did have a certain ring to it, and it might allow her to get out of her sister’s present this year.

Opening another cold wooden door, Bettie smiled as she walked into the last section of the corridor and smelt the delicious hints of ginger, allspices and cinnamon in the air. They smelt amazing.

At least that made Bettie relax a bit more, she knew her nephew wasn’t smoking weed.

As she heard the buzz of a room opening she looked straight ahead smiling as she saw her nephew’s little head pop out. Bettie couldn’t believe how well he looked with his smooth young face and longish brown hair parted to the right.

Sean rushed over and hugged his aunt. Bettie returned the massive hug, she couldn’t remember how long it had been. As Sean led her into his room, Bettie’s eyebrows rose as she realised he hadn’t said a word to her.

But what was more shocking was how Sean was wearing designer jeans, Bettie had no idea why. Sean was the least fashion conscience person in the world but he... looked good.

Stepping into Sean’s room, Bettie had to admit it was a lot nicer than she was expecting. She remembered her room was a tiny box room covered in dirty clothes with textbooks littered around.

Sean’s was nothing like that with his small rectangular room with sterile white walls and neatly arranged desk with his laptop, and a pile of neatly folded clothes. Then Bettie looked at his perfectly clean en-suite and she had a quick look in this rarer empty brown wardrobe.

A part of her started to question why her nephew wasn’t asking her to stop, she checked places out on instinct, it was a terrible habit as her mum kept reminding her. But Sean was sitting there on his small blue bed that was tucked into one corner, his foot tapping rapidly.

Bettie smiled and gently sat down next to him, feeling the soft sheets take her weight.

You want to talk about it? Bettie asked, trying to make sure she didn’t sound like an interrogator.

Sean looked at her. Aunty, I.. I’ve got something to tell you,

Bettie wanted to say something along the lines of she guessed that by the text. It was better than No Shit Sherlock which was her usual saying and never failed to make Sean laugh. But she behaved herself because she had a feeling Sean wouldn’t laugh at it this time.

Okay, Bettie said.

And you can’t tell mum please!

Bettie forced a smile and nodded.

I lost a present. I have a boyfriend. Someone robbed me. They threatened me. and-

Bettie placed a finger on her nephew’s lips and hugged him. She and her sister had had a bet for years about when Sean was going to come out and to who. Bettie smiled as she could feel the plane tickets to Antigua in her hands now. (and at least she didn’t have to pay for her sister to go to Australia)

After a few moments, Sean pulled away.

You... you aren’t mad?

Bettie's eyes widened as she tried to understand what he was talking about, then she realised.

Trying to be the supportive aunt, Bettie grabbed Sean’s hands.

Sean, me and ya mum we know you’re gay. It’s fine. We’re both happy about it. And I have to say thank you because you just won me a bet,

Sean cocked his head and smiled as he knew exactly what his mother and Aunt were like.

Why would we be mad? Bettie asked already knowing the answer.

You know what Dad’s like. He’ll hate me,

Bettie went to open her mouth but she closed it. There was nothing she could say, only support and love him.

Me and ya mum will protect you,

Sean hugged her again.

Now tell me what happened about this robbery, Bettie asked.

Sean frowned. I bought this wonderful present for Harry for Christmas. This special Christmas tree necklace, he’d love it!

As Sean kept talking over the minor details, Bettie smiled as she realised she had never seen her nephew so happy and smiley about anyone in his life. He was full of life and honestly happy, something she hadn’t seen in a long time. She couldn’t even remember the last time she was full of life.

Then I told some friends about it. I promise I kept it hidden. I know what people are like. I came back from a lecture. Someone was in here and grabbed the present. They threatened me and Harry if I told anyone,

Bettie’s eyes narrowed and her voice turned deadly cold.

Someone robbed you and threatened you when you walked in on them?

Sean nodded.

Who was it?

Sean stood up and paced around a little bit.

My friend Danielle next door. She was wearing a mask but I recognised the voice,

Bettie stood out frowning, how dare this criminal target her nephew. Why the hell would she do it? There was no reason for it, Bettie tried not to scream in rage but she couldn’t let someone threaten her family.

With her eyes narrowing, Bettie asked:

"What does that girl look like?"

Sean closed his eyes. He clearly hadn’t seen Danielle in a little while.

She has blond hair, nose piercing, round face, white and... Aunty she has a horrible burn mark on her right hand,

Bettie nodded. She could work with that, a part of her couldn’t believe that rather vague description was better than the normal ones she got. Maybe her nephew was better at this crime thing than she thought.

But there was one question still bothering her.

"And why hire me?"

I wanted to hire you because I know... mum’s always talking about how tight money is for you. I... I wanted to help,

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