X murderer a norfolk tri.., p.1
Support this site by clicking ads, thank you!

X MURDERER (A Norfolk Trilogy Book 1), page 1

 

X MURDERER (A Norfolk Trilogy Book 1)
Select Voice:
Brian (uk)
Emma (uk)  
Amy (uk)
Eric (us)
Ivy (us)
Joey (us)
Salli (us)  
Justin (us)
Jennifer (us)  
Kimberly (us)  
Kendra (us)
Russell (au)
Nicole (au)


1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Larger Font   Reset Font Size   Smaller Font  


X MURDERER (A Norfolk Trilogy Book 1)


  X Murderer

  by

  Marcus Crowe

  Copyright © Marcus Crowe 2021

  All rights reserved in all media. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the author and/or publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Produced in United Kingdom.

  Editorial Services by www.bookeditingservices.co.uk

  For permission requests, please contact: mail@marcuscrowe.com

  Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at www.marcuscrowe.com

  Also at www.twitter.com/Marcusrcrowe

  www.instagram.com/marcusrcrowe

  https://www.facebook.com/Marcusrcrowe-109147631360799/

  www.goodreads.com/marcuscrowe

  Contents

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  About the Author

  Marcus Crowe has lived and worked on the Norfolk-Suffolk border all of his life.

  He loves the outdoor life and has many pursuits.

  Old enough to have lots of experiences but young enough to care about how he looks and what he says, just.

  His ‘X Murderer’ trilogy is deeply embedded in this rural area.

  The idea came from his partner trying to tell him a story but couldn’t remember the person involved: ‘You must know him, he’s an ex-murderer,’ she said.

  ‘You can’t be an ex-murderer,’ he replied, but jokingly said that’s a great name for a book, so here we are six months later. He didn’t let the fact that he’d never written a book or little else since leaving school stop him...

  This is Marcus’s first book, so join in and enjoy the ride.

  To ‘my Kim’ for her love and support.

  Thank you to Peter for his direction.

  And also Alex from Book Editing Services for turning my ramblings into a book.

  ‘You cannot discover new oceans unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore.’

  André Gide

  Chapter 1

  ‘It’s pretty quiet around Diss tonight,’ said Police Constable Dean.

  ‘Unusually so,’ replied PC Ashley Woods.

  ‘I need to fill up with petrol at the Shell garage. Fancy a coffee?’

  ‘No ta, but I will have a Coke, please.’

  Ashley could hear Deano filling the fuel tank, the clanging of the filler and whirring of the pump, the squeak before the filler flap banged shut. She watched him stroll across the forecourt and enter the shop before taking an absolute age at the coffee machine. Good job we’re not in a hurry, she thought. She was gazing around the patrol car to distract herself from being frustrated at Deano and his lack of enthusiasm when she noticed a letter addressed to him. It looked official. Best not to snoop, she mused. At last, he was at the counter. Ashley then noticed a white Transit leaving the industrial estate. Deano was back at the car and teasing his frame into the seat.

  ‘Did you see that van?’ Ashley asked.

  ‘Yeah, couldn’t miss it clattering away.’

  ‘White with rust spots and a bit beaten up,’ said Ashley, taking the Coke. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I heard travellers are back in the area,’ Deano said, pausing to blow on his coffee. ‘Probably pitched up on a local common somewhere.’

  ‘I can hear the complaints already. Come on, let’s get going.’

  ‘Hang on, I haven’t finished my coffee yet.’

  Eventually, Deano turned out of the garage and started a tour of the industrial estate, which was all pretty quiet around the lower end. He drove a bit further along Vinces Road before turning into Gilray Road, then into the first turning on the right. Deano drove slowly, looking at the small units on the right, while Ashley looked across the car park to the units on the left. There wasn’t any sign of life, just two cars parked at the top as usual, with flat tyres and a covering of dust.

  Deano reached the bottom and started the turn to complete the loop. ‘What’s that?’ he suddenly asked.

  ‘Looks like it’s leaking from that skip. Is it oil?’

  ‘It’s red, and we’d best have a look.’ Deano pulled on the handbrake, got out and walked around the back of the skip. He reappeared quickly, staggering backwards with one hand over his nose and mouth.

  ‘What’s up?’ Ashley asked, walking over.

  Deano retched, looking pale and shocked. ‘It’s a body.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘Yes, if my nose isn’t lying.’

  ‘Have you checked for a pulse?’

  ‘I didn’t want to get that close.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Deano, get on with it.’ Ashley watched as he approached the lifeless body, knelt down, one hand over his nose and the other stretched out to the body’s neck.

  ‘There’s a pulse!’ he shouted, almost excitedly. ‘Get an ambulance.’

  ‘Control, this is VK316. We need an ambulance urgently to Gilray Road on the Vinces Road Industrial Estate in Diss. A lifeless body covered in blood – possible GBH victim.’ Ashley received a response and shouted, ‘About ten minutes away, Deano,’ while getting the first aid kit out of the car and then running back over to help. ‘Jeez, that’s unbelievable. Where’s the blood coming from?’

  ‘His head.’

  ‘Use this and apply a bit of pressure.’ Ashley handed Deano the largest pad in the kit.

  ‘I hope they’re bloody quick,’ Deano said, ‘his pulse is getting weaker.’

  Ashley looked at the man lying in a defensive position with bodily fluids draining from him. Who the hell would do this to anybody? ‘Listen, a siren.’ She ran to the corner to direct them.

  As the paramedics took over, Deano walked back to the car, looking like he’d just disembarked a small boat in heavy seas.

  ‘You okay, mate?’

  ‘Have you any of that Coke left?’

  ‘A little – here you go.’

  ‘Glad I’ve not just eaten. Bloody hell, I don’t know how they do it,’ he said, watching as the paramedics loaded the man into the ambulance.

  ‘Will he make it?’ asked Ashley.

  ‘Only if he has a strong will. We’ll do our best,’ replied the paramedic, climbing into the back before the ambulance drove off.

  ‘Look, if the old bugger snuffs it, then this is a murder scene,’ said Deano. ‘We’d better keep it clear and secure it. Can you get some cones and tape, and I’ll call the sarge.’

  Ashley listened to Deano sharing everything with Sergeant Jones and taking further instructions. Then she made some notes of the time, 10:17 p.m. 10/06/2017, and took a few photos of the area around the skip, a couple of pallets in an L shape and a few flattened cardboard boxes with a filthy sleeping bag lying across them.

  ‘What a way to live,’ said a much recovered Deano. ‘Poor bastard.’

  ‘What now?’ she asked.

  ‘Sarge said we should secure the area, search the wider area for anything discarded, any evidence, especially a weapon, question anybody we see and wait for the forensic team or CID – whoever appears first.’

  Ashley followed Deano around the immediate vicinity of the units looking for anything that may have been discarded. The search area was limited by the need to keep an eye on the scene, one of them anyway. Ashley went to check another skip just up the road but found nothing.

  ‘Let’s check the roadside verges,’ said Deano. ‘I’ll take the right.’

  They questioned two dog walkers, who hadn’t seen anything.

  Sometime later, CID officers appeared, followed by a small forensics team.

  Ashley and Deano left them to it, going home to refresh before returning tomorrow.

  The next morning at the station, Sergeant Jones relayed, ‘A message from forensics to say they haven’t found any personal possessions around the skip.’

  ‘That’s odd, isn’t it?’ said Deano.

  ‘It’s been cleaned, then?’ asked Ashley.

  ‘Looks like it,’ said Jones. ‘Get yourselves back up there and keep searching.’

  Carrying on with a search of the estate, now for signs of the old man’s possessions as well, Ashley and Deano visited businesses to question staff and workers who may have seen anything suspicious. Also to view the CCTV systems that some premises had installed. The Shell garage, the railway station, and a few houses that lined the industrial estate side were all checked, but nothing
out of the ordinary was recorded. It was likely that the assailant accessed the estate on foot through a footpath from an adjacent road. Then there was the white Transit to consider. The old guy had been spotted often enough. Some people had given him coffee and a bit of food on occasion; others were more concerned about the toilet facilities he was using, or possibly not.

  ‘Well, that didn’t reveal much, did it?’ said Deano.

  ‘No, disappointing,’ replied Ashley as she filled in some paperwork on the bonnet of the car.

  ‘He also said there were no belongings, no tattoos or other distinctive marks on the old boy, according to the hospital.’

  ‘Still, some good news, according to the sarge the old boy is stable.’

  ‘Ah yes, great news.’

  The appeals for witnesses drew a complete blank both from posts on social media and an article in the local newspaper. Nobody came forward with anything remotely useful. No reports of a missing person in the last few weeks either. After a call from the Norfolk and Norwich Hospital to say he was now conscious, Woods and Dean went to interview the unknown injured man.

  After being warned not to expect much, they looked down at the old man propped up in the bed, his face weathered, eyes vacant.

  Woods asked, ‘What’s your name, sir? Where do you live?’

  ‘What happened to you?’ tried Ashley.

  Every question was met by a slight shrug.

  Dean asked, ‘Can we take your fingerprints?’

  Same response.

  They stepped outside to speak to the ward sister.

  ‘How did you get on?’ she asked.

  ‘Not very well,’ replied Woods.

  ‘I did warn you.’

  ‘At least he smells better,’ commented Dean.

  ‘Yes, I think the nurses drew straws for the job of removing his clothes.’

  ‘A forensics guy took his clothes away; the poor sod also took blood and saliva samples.’

  ‘We have fingerprints, so maybe something will come up!’ said Ashley as she produced some paperwork. ‘We need to fill this in.’

  ‘Just before we go, what’s his situation?’

  ‘An awful lot of bruises, three broken ribs and a very serious head injury. He has a depressed skull fracture and possible brain damage.’

  ‘And apart from that, he’s okay,’ quipped Deano.

  ‘It’s hardly a joking matter, PC Dean.’

  ‘Of course not, sorry.’ He then asked, ‘What are we going to put under the name section? A. N. Other?’

  Ashley looked at the bandages wrapped around his head and said, ‘What about Mr Hive?’

  After a bit of sniggering, the name section was left blank, but the name Hive stuck all the same.

  Back at the station, the fingerprints didn’t match anyone on the database; and a few days later, a response from the lab recorded the same result.

  ‘Anything to report?’ asked Sergeant Jones.

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Ashley. ‘We haven’t a clue who he is or who attacked him.’

  ‘Are you sure he was attacked and didn’t just fall and hit his head?’

  ‘Yes, sir, quite sure. He would have a very hard time receiving injuries like that from a fall!’

  Chapter 2

  Ashley had been back on her regular duties in and around Diss for a couple of weeks. Often she was thinking about the man, especially when her duties involved visiting the estate. In any spare time, she found herself checking records that could lead to identifying him.

  ‘Ashley,’ called Sergeant Jones.

  ‘Yes, Sarge.’

  ‘Have you heard that Deano is leaving us?’

  ‘No, he hasn’t mentioned anything to me,’ Ashley replied, disappointed.

  ‘Transfer to Wroxham to be nearer his wife’s family.’

  ‘Shame he couldn’t bring himself to mention it, sir,’ Ashley said, walking out to start her shift.

  By the following week, Deano had gone, and Ashley was waiting for a new colleague to arrive.

  ‘Just heard the old boy has been discharged from hospital and moved to a care home,’ announced the sarge.

  ‘Where?’ Ashley replied.

  ‘Tall Trees, just the other side of Hoxne,’ he said with a wink, nice and close.

  ‘Not much happening around here, Sarge. Maybe I’ll go and see if he remembers anything.’

  ‘Thought you might. Don’t forget your new colleague will be here later.’

  ‘Okay, I wo…’ she replied, her voice carrying down the hall.

  Ashley drove into the grounds of the care home, a large Victorian hall from the mid-19th century converted to accommodate around thirty residents. Walking up to the entrance, she was taken aback by the place’s grandeur and setting, set well back from the road with a private drive and extensive woodland grounds.

  ‘Good morning, I’m PC Ashley Woods, here to visit a patient.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll find the supervisor for you,’ said the woman.

  ‘Good morning, PC Woods. I’m Miss Blake, the home supervisor.’

  ‘Morning,’ Ashley replied.

  ‘I assume you’re here to see our new arrival. This way.’

  Ashley followed as she marched off at quite a pace, her greying hair neatly plaited.

  ‘He’s down the end here. What do you know about him?’

  ‘Not much,’ Ashley replied as they stopped short of his room. ‘My colleague and I found him, but we’ve been unable to find out anything about him.’

  ‘I’ll bring you up to date, then,’ said Miss Blake assertively. ‘He is here because we cater for head and brain injuries. He can’t remember anything, but he can identify every type of bird that visits the feeders.’

  ‘I see,’ said Ashley. ‘What do you call him?’

  ‘All sorts, and some of the other residents have a few names for him – behind his back mostly.’

  ‘I call him Mr Hive,’ said Ashley.

  ‘Mr Hive, I like that, very good,’ said Miss Blake. ‘Much better than what the others call him.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The Stig is one, and that doesn’t refer to his antics in wheelchair racing. Have you heard of the character Stig of the Dump?’ asked the woman, knowing the PC was far too young to have a clue.

  ‘No,’ said Ashley.

  ‘The other favourite is Mr Sewer.’

  ‘People can be so cruel. Why do people give him those awful names?’

  ‘Well, because the opioid pain medicine, which relieves the constant pain of his head injuries, gives him the most uncontrollable flatulence – not helped by another medication to relieve constipation. He’s taking quite a cocktail at the moment. It’s just a case of finding out what medicine agrees with him. In the meantime, stay close to the window.’

  Ashley noticed Miss Blake almost smile. ‘So, how is he settling here?’

  ‘Pretty quiet so far; he has trouble sleeping and often has nightmares. He has spoken to a few of the other patients: Ron, Burt and Kathy mainly. They are all a lot older than him, but maybe something about them makes him feel like talking, perhaps a look of kindness or maybe their senility. He hasn’t mixed with anyone else – well, not yet anyway. I’ll leave you to it, PC Woods.’

  ‘Ashley, please.’

  ‘Okay, Ashley. Don’t forget to sign out,’ she said from several yards away.

  Not many people were queuing up to chat with Hive. He wasn’t very chatty, he couldn’t remember anything, and the conversation was usually very one-sided. Then, of course, there was the flatulence, which was the cause of constant amusement for the rest of the patients.

  PC Woods entered Hive’s room, introducing herself. To her surprise, he had remembered her from the hospital.

  ‘My memory is quite good, but only goes back about five weeks.’ He started to smile before grimacing.

  ‘So, how are you?’ Ashley said.

  ‘Bored and fed up with headaches,’ came the reply.

  ‘Are they very bad?’

  ‘As the medicine wears off, it’s complete agony.’

  Noticing his eyes starting to water, she moved a little closer to hold his hand. It felt rough; she could see the remains of calluses – clearly outdoor hands. ‘Can you remember anything about what happened?’

  ‘Not a damn thing. I keep trying, but nothing comes to me. I’m terrified I may never remember. All I know is being cooped up in here like a caged animal is not natural for me.’

 
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17
Add Fast Bookmark
Load Fast Bookmark
Turn Navi On
Turn Navi On
Turn Navi On
Scroll Up
Turn Navi On
Scroll
Turn Navi On
137