The Dead Speak Ill Of The Living (The Dead Speak Paranormal Mysteries Book 1) (14 page)

  
“Something to aim for in the company kitty.”

  
“We can have a company kitty if you’re doing the accounts Nazir.”

  
“I know a guy who can do that.”

  
“I bet you know a lot of guys.”

  
“But of course, a man for every moment.”

  
When Dee and Nazir had finished talking the journey was almost over, and they
parked up. Maquire had spotted them and came over. “Okay, the killing took
place in his property. It remains empty, and I have a key, but I want everyone
to let me do any talking if we’re interrupted.”

  
“With pleasure,” Pohl said, and they went inside, but she was soon able to say
“I know someone’s died here, but I wasn’t expecting it to look so… obvious.”
She, and they all, were looking at a large stain on the carpet.

  
“That is bodily fluids, yes. Does this machine need power, the electricity is
still working.”

  
“It operates on batteries, and should have a life of…” but Joe realised Dee was
giving him the ‘you’re being nerdy get on with it’ look. So the machine was
unpacked, placed on the coffee table, and switched on.

  
“What happens now?” Maquire asked.

  
“We talk to the spirits, if any are present.”

  
“Are you buying my house?” came a voice from the box.

  
Maquire screwed his face up, then decided to take the initiative. “Hello, I’m
Detective Constable Maquire and these are my… associates. We’re here to ask you
some questions about your murder.”

  
“Did that feel as weird as it sounded?”

  
“Yes Dee, it really did.”

  
“They’ve been showing people round my house you know, as if I wasn’t here.”

  
Not wishing to get into the philosophy, Maquire tried again. “Did you see the
person who killed you?”

  
“You’ve not caught them then?”

  
“Not yet, inquires are progressing, so…”

  
“I got a good look at their head, but they had a balaclava on. Couldn’t
describe them.”

  
Maquire looked surprised, because he hadn’t expected that. “You didn’t see the
assailant?”

  
“No.”

  
Joe realised Maquire was looking at him, so replied “it lets us talk to the
dead, it can only reveal what they know.”

  
“Dammit. Okay, can you at least tell us what you did see?”

  
“So are we calling that a failure?” Joe asked as they walked back to the cars.

  
Maquire turned and looked at him. He was tempted to say something sarcastic and
more in line with his thinking, but he was new to the group and should probably
be making friends not destroying them. So he simply said “on balance, yes, we
are calling that a failure.”

  
“Bugger.”

  
They had now reached their vehicles, so Maquire explained another plan. “There
was an earlier murder close enough to hear that we could get there easily, so
have you got time to try that?”

  
“Yes,” Dee answered for them, “but why is earlier relevant?”

  
“It’s just possible he or she didn’t have the balaclava on then.”

  
It took twenty five minutes given the traffic, and Maquire knew he should be
back by now, but he thought let’s just see what happens here. It might be time
to scrap the whole project if this didn’t work.

  
They were at another house, and Pohl noticed this. “Where they all killed in
residential buildings?”

  
“Erm, yes, they were.”

  
“Could that be a clue?”

  
“If it is we can’t work out where it’s leading us.”

  
Soon they were inside, but this house, while still empty, had been spotlessly
cleaned.

  
“It looks like only a ghost has lived here,” Pohl said before realising how
accurate she might be.

  
The machine was pressed into use, and Joe asked if anyone was present.

  
“Hello? Hello?” came a voice.

  
“Who’s this?” Joe asked.

  
“It’s Susan. Am… Am I dead?”

  
The people in the room looked at each other. “Yes?” Maquire tried.

  
“Because I’m not sure what’s happened, but I don’t feel alive anymore, and
everything is different, and I don’t want to leave but I can’t leave.”

  
“You are dead, and I believe you were murdered. I’m DC Maquire, and I’m hoping
you can answer some questions about your killer.”

  
“You haven’t caught him yet?”

  
Maquire swallowed. Was this how it was going to be? “No, not yet, but with your
help we will. Did you see what, you said ‘he’, looked like?”

  
“Yes, oh yes, I saw him clearly. Young man, about thirty, white, short black
hair, silly little beard, stronger than he looks.”

  
“Mexican Wave!” But Joe shut up again as soon as everyone stared at him.

  
“Now, if I can just press you on these details we might be able to get an
expert to draw him, is that okay?”

  
“That’s fine, I don’t really have anything else to do. So I’m really dead?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“I was expecting something different. At least it doesn’t hurt.”

  
Maquire left the foursome after thanking them profusely and offering to take
them out for a meal, which he suspected would be welcome. Then he raced back to
the station, politely managed to palm his duties off for a bit longer, and went
to see the woman who’d be able to take his description and turn it into a face.
Then it was back to work, and it was only at eight that evening that he got
back to his desk and found the image. Now he turned to the computer networks
available to the police, and tried to find this man.

  
But if he thought he’d crack the case in an evening he was wrong, and he could
find no previous record of this man’s involvement. Which meant he was a little
stuck, as he didn’t yet have the justification for a full scale search of the
streets. He’d need to explain where the witness was for a start. So, at ten
that night, he rang Dee.

  
“Hi, it’s Maquire.”

  
“Hi Jeff.”

  
“M, well, Jeff yes.”

  
“When you ring a single woman who’s in her pyjamas, it’s first name terms.”

  
Maquire opened his mouth to fire back, then realised he was blushing. Best
stick to work. “I’ve got so far, but I need to keep going. I have one more
victim who we’d be able to safely visit, the rest get tricky. Would that be
okay?”

  
“I think I speak for all of us when I say we’ve not got a lot on.”

  
Like your pyjamas, Maquire thought, then crushed it.

  
The third site was the scene of the most recent crime, and the group were
overjoyed to arrive at a building that had crime scene tape on the door.

  
“It’s just like the tele,” Nazir said as he ducked under.

  
“You like a good cop show?” Joe asked.

  
“Oh I love a procedural.”

  
Joe thought Nazir was making a sex joke, he just couldn’t work out what.

  
“Right, this time it’s a man called Mohammad.”

  
“Original name.”

  
“Better than Dulcimer.”

  
“Touché.”

  
“Please tell me you’re the police.”

  
Maquire smiled at the voice. “Yes, I’m Detective Constable Maquire, and this is
my team. Are you Mohammad?”

  
“I sure am.”

  
“We’re looking for your killer, and are hoping you can provi…”

  
“Stop, stop, I have been searching for a way to contact you for as long as I’ve
been dead. I saw the man’s licence plate, I can give it to you.”

  
“That will be superb,” and Maquire wrote it down.

  
“Can I do anything else?”

  
“Err,” and Maquire turned to Joe. “Can he?”

  
“Not that we know of.”

  
“Looks like no, but while we’re here let me make a call.”

  
They weren’t sure who Maquire dialed, but he was soon reading the licence plate
out, and then writing something down. Then he was back with the group. “It’s
not been registered stolen, and the address is a funeral parlour and associated
residence on the other side of town. We have a lead ladies and gentlemen, we
have an actual lead!”

  
As the foursome and Maquire left the property the latter kept staring at his
phone. Dee had been watching Maquire, noticed this, and asked “what’s bugging
you?”

  
“Eh, oh, the phone. Well, really I should be calling this in and getting the
wheels moving, and soon enough those wheels will have us searching that funeral
parlour. It’s just…”

  
“You can’t tell anyone because you have no evidence which you wouldn’t be
sectioned for.”

  
“That is precisely right, and I’m really not sure what to do now.”

  
Nazir, following close behind was listening, as they all were. But he had
something to offer. “You could follow our proven technique.”

  
Maquire raised an eyebrow, “do you mean proven as you’ve done it once?”

  
“Once, but it worked.”

  
“Okay, what is it.”

  
“We break in and take a look around.”

  
“So that’s what you did with Grell, once you knew Stuart had killed Nathan you got
inside and found the skulls and the rest. Which, I feel I should point out, was
both incredibly illegal and very dangerous. If he’d found you, well, you might
have been cat food.”

  
“There are four of us, he’d have to have gassed us.”

  
Maquire just smiled at Dee and replied “Oh you’d be surprised.”

  
“And now there’s five,” Nazir pointed out.

  
“I appreciate what you’re saying, but I as a police officer cannot be caught
breaking in places. Ever. So we need a different plan.”

  
“Okay,” Dee said, we’ll regroup at our house and discuss.”

  
“Agreed,” and Maquire got into his car started the engine and drove away. What
should he do in this situation? He couldn’t get caught, he couldn’t, there must
be some way to legitimately get into this building. If he slept on it… well,
someone else might get murdered. And… hang on, the others weren’t following.
Their car had turned down a different route. And while they might just be
travelling peacefully home a different way, Maquire knew for certain where
they’d gone.

  
By going at a speed reserved for the emergency services and psychopaths Maquire
was able to get to the funeral home before the group, able to jump out and
examine the car parked outside. It had the registration plate all right, and it
was right by the door to the flat above, where the owner’s family lived and ran
the funeral business. So a positive match for the location, which was a start.
And then, as predicted, Dee’s car arrived.

  
“How did you get here so fast?” she said out of the window.

  
“I told you this was a good idea,” Nazir said from the back.

  
“We are not going inside,” Maquire hissed.

  
“You’re not, but we are. Stay out of the way and we’ll report back.”

  
“I can’t let you…” but he already knew what was going to happen. If he let them
go in there someone was bound to get killed. He had to go, if only to keep this
safe. So he sighed, went to the car, and got some gloves. He wasn’t surprised
to find the other four wearing them either.

  
“I suppose one of you can pick locks?”

  
They all looked at each other. “Err, no.”

  
“Right, leave this to me then.”

  
Dee grinned at Maquire. “You can pick locks?”

  
“You pick up some extra skills.”

  
They went round to the back of the building, deciding not to mess with the
inviting front doors, and went to work on the functional rear. A door was soon
open, and Maquire took a torch out and led the group inside. They were in a
small corridor, and while there were closed doors all along, at the end the
light was on from the only open one. Maquire edged forward, moving stealthily,
until he’d come to the door, and then he peered inside.

  
Stealth went away as he exclaimed loudly “fuck!” Everyone else ran up to see.

  
And what a sight. They were looking into the room where bodies were stored, and
there was a row of metal doors down one wall behind which bodies were slid into
cubbyholes. All except one body, that of a young woman, which was lying on the
mortician's slab. She was naked, and next to her was a man fitting the description
of the serial killer. Only his trousers were round his ankles.

  
“Woah, woah,” the young man said, “this isn’t what it looks like!”

  
Maquire regained composure. “This had better be the greatest excuse in human
history.”