Written To Death (Alex Warren Murder Mysteries Book 3) Read online

  “Thanks, Alex, I'll be able to do some background research to support it, then I'll be able to dine out on that for a week.”

  Alex shook his head. “Fine, I'll go now and try to get some work done.”

  Alex pressed the button on the phone to disengage but didn't hang up. Instead, he keyed Sanjay's number and passed on the new information.

  Sanjay had wasted no time in tracking down Yvonne, finding her as expected at the Academy. He sent Donny and Phil there to collect her and bring her in for questioning.

  When they returned, he asked Phil to join him as he went to conduct the interview.

  They entered the room to find her pacing the floor. “Miss Kitson, please sit down. I'm Sergeant Guptar and I'm investigating the death of Sheila Armstrong. Now we understand you were at Eastfarm School on Monday?”

  Kitson nodded her head but didn't speak.

  “Please speak clearly for the recording. Now you nodded an agreement but please audibly confirm you were at Eastfarm at the time of Sheila Armstrong's death.”

  “Yes, that's correct.” Kitson's voice was quiet and hesitant.

  “Thank you. Now this raises a couple of questions. First of all, the school's records show you weren't due to be on duty, and secondly, why did you not come forward to advise us you'd been there?”

  Kitson drew a deep breath. “I don't know where to start,” she said, her whole body shaking. “I wasn't meant to be there. I should have been at the Academy on Monday but I didn't go. I'd been invited to audition for a professional production at the Kings. The audition was to take place late afternoon, but I decided not to go into the Academy in case I got caught up and couldn't get away. Instead, I phoned them to say I was sick. In the morning, I went to Eastfarm. I didn't own up as I didn't want to get myself into bother.”

  “You could be in a lot more bother because you didn't say,” Sanjay replied.

  “Yes, I see that now. I quite often switch around my schedule so I can be where I'm most needed.”

  “That may be understandable but shouldn't you report back to your employers when you make a timing change?” Sanjay challenged.

  “Yes, of course, you're right, but it's impractical. I've tried before. Whenever you want to make a schedule change, it takes hours and needs to be signed off by a dozen people. I didn't want to go through all the hassle, not for what was only a simple switch of timings.”

  “Maybe you thought it wouldn't be approved?” Sanjay asked.

  “No, it wasn't that.”

  “I can understand if the Education Authority wasn't too happy about employees thinking they could ignore their schedules and just turn up where and when they wanted,” Sanjay pursued.

  “No, really, it's not an issue. Because of the type of work I do, I'm given a lot of latitude to be where and when I'm needed as long as I achieve the desired result. They get a good deal too. I put in considerably longer hours than I'm paid for,” Kitson defended.

  “That's hardly the point. Your bosses expect you to be where you're assigned or they'd have no control. Maybe it suits to allow some flexibility, but surely they'd expect you to report whenever you make changes. As a case in point, you didn't only change your schedule, you lied about it too. Why else would you have called in sick?” Sanjay asked.

  Kitson became flustered. “I wasn't cheating. I only juggled my timetable, switching one day for another. As I had to be away early, it was more practical for me to leave from Eastfarm, and besides, I wanted to be there because I knew the writers' group would be performing their play and I wanted to see it.”

  “Oh yes? Maybe now we're getting closer to the truth.” Sanjay looked at her quizzically. “Tell me more.”

  She bit her lip nervously, realising she'd said more than she'd intended. Kitson resumed talking slowly, trying to be cautious with her words. “I enjoy watching theatre of all types, whether amateur or professional. I heard the writers were going to be rehearsing and I wanted to take the opportunity to see them. They can be really entertaining; I've seen a lot of what they've done in the past.”

  “The entertainment didn't go quite as expected on Monday,” Phil said.

  Kitson looked down at the floor, not trusting herself to answer.

  “And what did you make of the performance?” Sanjay continued.

  “I didn't see much. I took in a trolley with tea and biscuits while they were rehearsing. What I saw looked very well done, but they stopped to have a break not long after I arrived. As I had no excuse to stay, I left before they restarted.”

  “Are you telling me you weren't there when the stabbing took place?” Sanjay enquired.

  “That's right. It wasn't long after I left, maybe half an hour, certainly no more. I'd gone through to help out in the English department. Mr Grimes can verify if you like; I was with him and his class when the hullabaloo started.”

  “Did you see the knives?” Sanjay asked.

  “Knives?” Kitson looked up.

  “The ones used in the play,” Sanjay said.

  “Not that I can remember.”

  “It's hardly something you're likely to forget. Now come on, I need a more definite answer,” Sanjay pushed.

  “I've tried to think it all through. I have no conscious memory of seeing them. They must have been there but I didn't notice. No, I didn't see them.”

  “So, you knew there was more than one?” Sanjay asked.

  “Yes, I've come across this type of prop in other productions.”

  “Thank you. Tell me more,” Phil continued.

  “Yes, I'm sure I must have. I've been involved in a lot of theatre work in the past. I've used all sorts of props. I will have seen similar, but I don't know the specifications of the knives in question to be able to say more.”

  Sanjay and Phil shared a questioning look, as if to confirm their mutual suspicions, before Phil continued. “Do you know any of the group's members?”

  “I've met a couple of them.”

  “Who in particular and how well do you know them?” Sanjay asked.

  “I've met several of them at performances, but we're no more than nodding acquaintances. However, I'm better acquainted with Graeme and Sheila.”

  “You're not telling us everything,” Sanjay admonished.

  Kitson's face was flushed and she appeared increasingly nervous. “I've met them several times, Sheila invited me to their house on one occasion.”

  “Okay, but isn't it true you're a lot closer to Graeme?” Sanjay had a hunch and thought he'd try his luck.

  Tears ran down Kitson's cheeks and she raised her hands to cover her face. “How did you find out? Did Graeme tell you?”

  “No, we haven't spoken to him on the subject yet. We suspected, but you just confirmed our suspicions,” Sanjay replied. “Tell me about your relationship with him.”

  Kitson lowered her hands, her face was drawn and she seemed to have aged in the few minutes they'd been talking. “We've been friends for some time now. We met at the South Caledonian Amateur Players, it's an am-dram club we're both members of. Graeme's really into it, on the management side as well as performing. Sheila sometimes went along as well which was how we met. Sheila and I socialised together sometimes and got along really well.”

  “Was she aware of you and Graeme?” Sanjay asked.

  “No, to start with we were all friends and there was nothing more to it. Then some months ago, Graeme and I were cast as lovers in a play. After the first rehearsal, he asked me out for a drink and told me he'd been the one to set up the whole thing because he wanted to get closer to me. He said he and Sheila had an open marriage, which wasn't really news to me as I'd seen what she could be like around men on more than one occasion. What's more, she'd hinted to me she was bisexual too, but seemed to back off when I showed no interest.

  “On that first night, Graeme said he could book us a hotel room and suggested that if we could get closer to each other, then it would improve our performance. It was a really cheesy line, but it worked be
cause I'd fancied him for some time. I thought he'd set me up for a one night stand, but I went along with it anyway. I expected he was only there for a quick shag and then he'd leave, but to my surprise, we spent the night together and we met regularly afterwards – once, sometimes twice a week. We discovered we loved each other and wanted to be together. Graeme promised he would leave Sheila and we could set up home together, but it never happened. There was always some reason why he couldn't tell her.”

  “So, Sheila wasn't told about the two of you?” Sanjay asked.

  “I'm not so sure. I think Graeme may have said something, but he didn't have the courage to actually leave her. Sheila was different to me when we met. She never said anything, but she was a lot frostier, as if she tolerated my presence but didn't approve of it.”

  “Well, now that Sheila's dead, there's nothing to keep you apart,” Sanjay stated, carefully looking for a reaction.”

  “I don't …,” Kitson stammered through a flood of tears. “I haven't heard from him since it happened. I tried calling and I left messages, but he hasn't called back.”

  “Now that you both may be under investigation, maybe he doesn't want to be associated with you anymore?” Phil enquired.

  “No, he's not like that.”

  “Then maybe you think he had something more sinister to do with Sheila's death?” Sanjay asked.

  “No, he couldn't.”

  “Oh really?” Sanjay said. “It seems awfully convenient if the two of you really wanted to be together and the only impediment was Sheila, and now she's been murdered.”

  Kitson froze, looking in turn from Sanjay to Phil. “No, no, it wasn't like that. Of course I wanted to be with Graeme and I wanted him to leave Sheila, but I had nothing to do with her death.”

  “So, are you telling me you think Graeme may have killed his wife?” Phil asked.

  “Definitely not,” Kitson blurted then paused considering her answer. “Graeme couldn't have killed her. He wouldn't hurt a fly. He's kind and loving and caring. Although he no longer loved her, he was still very fond of Sheila. He would never have hurt her.”

  “Well, if it wasn't Graeme, it must have been you,” Phil countered.

  “No,” Kitson cried, shouting out the word. “It wasn't me either. It must have been someone else, someone who Sheila had annoyed or upset. She did have a tendency to rub people up the wrong way.”

  “So we've heard,” Sanjay replied. “But it's still the case that no-one else had a stronger motive to see Sheila dead than you and Graeme. If you believe someone else was responsible, then you need to tell us who and why.”

  “If I knew, I'd tell you, but I don't have a clue who it could have been. I'm just sure it wasn't Graeme and it wasn't me.”

  “Why should we believe you?” Sanjay probed.

  “Because it's the truth.”

  “Very convenient,” Sanjay challenged. “You expect us to trust what you're telling us, but we already know that you're an accomplished liar and a cheat.”

  “What do you mean?” Kitson asked.

  “You're a drama teacher and a professional actor. You've already admitted you lie to your employers whenever it suits because it's too much work to tell the truth. You're skilled at putting on an act, so we have no basis to accept anything you say to us. You're only telling us things that might help you and saying what you think we want to hear. The truth takes a very poor third place under these circumstances.”

  Kitson looked ready to start crying again but held back the tears, fearing any demonstrative display would be put down to another attempt of her trying to manipulate her audience.

  “Truly, I haven't done anything wrong and neither has Graeme. It needs to have been someone else.”

  “We heard you the first time,” Phil said.

  “But there's nothing more I can tell you. Can I go now?” Kitson pleaded.

  “No, it wouldn't be appropriate. For the moment, at least, you're the best suspect we have and we don't want you to be too far away. We're finished talking for just now, but we'll need to detain you for a bit longer while we make some further enquiries. It will give you some time to think; you might even come up with some useful information while you're waiting,” Sanjay said.

  “I think I ought to contact a solicitor,” Kitson said.

  “Yes, you're entitled to do that, and it's probably a good idea,” Sanjay responded before walking out the room, followed by Phil.

  Chapter 15

  “Well done, lads,” Alex greeted Sanjay and Phil as they left the room. “I was following the interview from the observation area and you've made some excellent progress. I've taken the liberty of sending Steve and Donny out to pick up Graeme Armstrong for a follow-up chat. After what we've learned from his girlfriend, he has an awful lot of explaining to do.”

  “Thanks, Boss,” Sanjay replied. “Exactly what I had in mind.”

  “Yeah, well, there's more. Maybe we're getting all our Christmases at once, if you'll pardon the contra-multicultural expression. I had a word with Donny about what he'd actually been doing. He was rather contrite about the rollicking you gave him and was keen to prove he'd been working effectively.”

  “Really, has he actually stumbled onto something?” Sanjay asked.

  Alex smiled but didn't comment. “He's been managing the enquiries into magic clubs, theatre groups, magicians and theatrical suppliers and, from what I can see, he's done a good job.”

  “You mean he has actually come up with something useful?” Sanjay asked.

  “He was trying to find out who had knives like the ones used for the murder and he has made a lot of progress. It seems very few magicians use this type of prop as they prefer a different method. They use a single knife, it has a similar sort of retractable blade, but with a lock, so the blade can be held firm when demonstrating that it's a real knife. It has the advantage of being a single instrument but the disadvantage that whoever's using it needs to know what they're about to avoid accidents. The two-knife variety, which we're dealing with, is considered to be a lot safer but requires the act to be a bit more contrived so the blades can be switched.”

  “Well, it didn't turn out to be safer for Sheila Armstrong,” Phil interrupted.

  “When someone has sufficient motive, they'll find a way to use whatever tools they have to do the job. But getting back to what you've said, Boss, I suppose it means there'd be less of the double blade variety about than we might have previously expected and they'd be more likely to be used by theatres than magicians,” Sanjay surmised.

  “Precisely what I thought and, to be fair, so did Donny. He concentrated on theatre groups to ask if they used such a prop and if they owned their own. Where they did, he enquired if it could be properly accounted for at the time of Sheila's death. Several didn't understand what he was talking about, a few did but didn't have their own props. Very few actually had one of their own and even less maintained proper records. In the end, there were only two which really stood out. One's a group in North Kelvinside who confirmed that they own one set, but don't keep good enough records to be certain if they still have them, nor do they have the first idea where they might be or who might have borrowed them. They said they'd make enquiries and come back to him, but at this point in time, we have no idea. The second is far more interesting. They're a very professional club and keep impeccable records with every item having to be signed out and back in. Their stock accounts show they ought to have a set of knives, which 'coincidentally' are the same generation as the ones we're looking for. Donny found out who their supplier was and checked it out with Top Hat. Each batch with the same number has one hundred sets of knives. With the particular batch in question, only eight were sold into the U.K., two of which went through this one supplier. In any event, the knives are missing. No-one signed them out and no-one could tell him where they are.” Alex smiled, holding them in suspense.

  “And?” Sanjay pressed, realising the best was yet to come.

  “And this group
is the South Caledonian Amateur Players, the very same group Yvonne and Graeme are members of,” Alex announced.

  “It's all circumstantial, but even so, it's really damning,” Sanjay stated.

  Phil burst out laughing and they each stared at him questioningly. “Have you worked out the acronym? South Caledonian Amateur Players. S.C.A.P. Perhaps they're not really guilty but just the SCAPe goats?”

  “Maybe it should be Members and not Players,” Sanjay joked. “That way the whole thing would be a SCAM.”

  “Very droll,” Alex replied. “Anyway, you've quite a lot to work with. I'd like to sit in on the interview with Graeme, but in the meantime, I'll give Sandra a ring and see if she's getting anywhere with her cases.”

  * * *

  “Hello, Love, how are you getting on?” Alex asked.

  They each exchanged news of their successful mornings, enthusiastically sharing their contentment at the advances they'd respectively made.

  “Have you seen this evening's paper?” Sandra enquired.

  “Is it that time already? No, I try to avoid the media unless necessary. It's too depressing to hear the amateurs, who don't have a real clue about what's going on, lecture the world about what a terrible job I'm doing.”

  “You shouldn't take it so personally,” Sandra replied. “Sometimes they can have their uses. Anyhow, in today's issue, we're sharing the front page.”

  “What! Good God, what are they saying?”

  “It's not all bad, Alex. They're headlining the number of suspicious deaths hitting Glasgow and they have a special column devoted to you. They mentioned the previously reported death of famous author Sheila Armstrong having progressed from being considered a terrible accident to something more sinister. The usual hackneyed expressions about her death matching the mystery of her writing, truth stranger than fiction and such-like. They obviously haven't done enough research to check she writes Romances and not Thrillers but, in any event, it should turn her into a posthumous bestseller. Because they've picked up on it being you and your team investigating, they've jumped to the conclusion it must be murder. Full of speculation and a bit light on the facts.”