City Of Shadows. M Lee J

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      ‘That’s easy, Strachan.’ Danilov opened the door to the bedroom. The blood-covered bedclothes were still pulled back as they had been left by the mortuary attendants. ‘They didn’t even take the sheets away. Incompetence of the highest order.’

      ‘It looks like they weren’t really interested in doing a proper investigation, sir.’

      ‘An interesting observation, Strachan.’ He walked over to the bedside table and opened the drawer. Inside was an array of tablets and medicines that would have made a chemist happy.

      ‘She was ill, sir, that’s why she didn’t leave the bed.’

      ‘More than ill, I think, Strachan.’ He pointed to a pair of crutches and a wheelchair against the wall. ‘An invalid. Probably needed help to get out of bed. Makes me ask once again, where was the maid that evening, if our invalid needed constant help?’

      ‘I don’t know sir.’

      ‘Neither do I, Strachan. Anyway, let’s go up.’ He strode out of the room and up the stairs to the third floor. ‘Our man has run up here, not down to save his wife and his children. He knows the killers are after him. Is he running to hide or to escape?’ They reached the door of the bedroom on the third floor. It was open with the chalk outline of a body clearly visible near the window. ‘But he doesn’t lock it. The key is still in the lock. He runs instead into the room. They burst in, he runs to the window and they shoot him dead. One shot to the chest, another, the killing shot, to the centre of the head.’

      ‘Sounds like a professional, sir.’

      ‘Exactly, Strachan. Now look over there.’

      In the wall opposite the window was a row of holes, spaced unevenly in the wall, breaking through in places to reveal the laths and the plaster.

      ‘That’s the work of our visitor today. He was obviously looking for something he thought was hidden in this room.’

      ‘I don’t think he found it, sir, he wasn’t carrying anything. I got a good look at his face, I’d recognise him again.’

      ‘Strachan, get the uniforms in and search this place properly. Before you do that, get a team to go through the house from top to bottom, fingerprints, everything. Make an imprint of the shoe in the kitchen. We have to start again where Cowan failed.’

      ‘Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Cowan is not going to be happy we are interfering in his case.’

      ‘Let me handle Inspector Cowan. This is still my patch.’ Danilov scratched his head. ‘One other thing. Why did the young boy open the door and let his killer into the house?’

      ‘He may have known his assailant, sir.’

      ‘Perhaps, Strachan, or there could be another reason. A thought has just occurred to me.’

      ‘Would you like to share it, sir?’

      Danilov looked out of the window. ‘Not yet, Strachan. Not yet.’ He walked over and examined the holes in the wall.

      ‘Our man with the hammer has been busy. None of the other rooms have been searched or destroyed, just this one. I wonder why? What was he looking for? And why search in this room?’

      ‘Because that’s where Mr Lee ran, sir, after he heard the shots.’

      ‘That makes sense, Strachan. Our thug started to search here first. We interrupted him in his work.’

      Danilov ran down the stairs to the next floor. He stood at the entrance to the girl’s bedroom. The blood-stained sheets still lay draped across the bed. The room had the faint tang of stale blood, a smell with just a hint of rust and salt.

      Danilov whispered a Russian prayer under his breath.

      ‘What was that, sir?’

      ‘Nothing, Strachan. Why kill the girl?’

      ‘Perhaps she saw them, sir?’

      ‘But even then, no point in killing her. It was dark, their faces wouldn’t have been clear to her from her position in the bed.’

      ‘An invalid was no threat to them.’

      Danilov pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose. ‘This was a professional job, Strachan. They wanted to leave no witnesses. And it wasn’t a robbery. Mrs Lee’s jewellery box is still in her bedroom untouched.’

      ‘So the motive wasn’t robbery?’

      ‘No, it wasn’t. And a man like Kao is no more capable of being a professional killer than your mother.’

      ‘You should see her strangle a chicken from the market.’

      ‘Thank you, Strachan, remind me never to eat your mother’s chicken. We need to get back to the station. Now.’

      ‘Shall I wait for forensics, sir?’

      Danilov thought for a moment. ‘No, come with me. They can handle everything themselves. I think Mr Kao is in grave danger, Strachan, and not just from the Cowans of this world.’

       Chapter 11

       He waited on the street, blending in with all the reporters, photographers and assorted hangers-on who were attracted like flies to dung whenever something happened in Shanghai.

       It was a good place to hide.

       In amongst people. It was the only time he didn’t feel lonely. Here. In a crowd. Waiting.

       The butt of the revolver rubbed against the skin of his chest. He loved this moment. The time before the world erupted around him in a storm of chaos.

       He knew it was going to happen.

       He was the only one who knew.

       The idea gave him satisfaction. He had come to this job early in his life. A young man, born in the city with nothing to offer but his brains and the ability to kill.

       His first job had been at twelve, smuggling a gun through a police checkpoint and passing it to an assassin, the man hired to kill a politician in the foyer of a council chamber. He had watched him do the job. Three bullets the killer had used. So wasteful. Even worse, the politician had lived to fight on.

       He wasn’t going to make that mistake today.

       He would be professional. He had learnt from the mistakes of others not to make mistakes himself. Every single detail of each of his jobs was written down and safely hidden from prying eyes.

       His diary of murder.

       What he had for breakfast. How he felt. The weather. The time of day. The atmosphere before the shooting. The pain and surprise on the victim’s face. His СКАЧАТЬ