The Element Of Death
Let it begin…Faced with a brutal murder, the police don't know where to turn until they spot a coded message on the wall. In blood - for Holmes' lapdog. The escaped serial killer Morgan Gregory is back and he wants police officer Ben Watson to come out to play once more…While Watson was the one man to put Gregory behind bars, it is now his turn to play The Magpie Murderer's game. But this time the clues are more cryptic and as Gregory's murders continue to escalate how long will it be before Watson is next in the line of fire?The Element of Death is perfect for fans of Jeffery Deaver, Peter James and Kerry Wilkinson.
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A serial killer brings terror into the community as he strikes repeatedly and seemingly at random. At the scene of each crime, he leaves behind a coded message that is designed to taunt the police officer who ended a killing spree ten years earlier, with the killer still having unfinished business. Can he be stopped this time before he completes his grisly sequence?
Also by Steve Wilson
Who Wants to Live Forever?
STEVE WILSON says: Iâm a late-starter as far as writing goes, with my first fantasy novel started in 2000, although it did stem from an idea that Iâd been mulling over for some ten years. That novel eventually became a trilogy, but my writing was sporadic during the next few years.
In 2004, I attained a Post Graduate Certificate in Creative Writing, and not long afterwards, I joined a local writing group, where I found being amongst like-minded peers of great benefit. In 2011 â after writing predominantly short stories for several years â I registered for the National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo, with the aim of writing a 50,000 word novel in thirty days, and the end result of that was my first published novel, Who Wants To Live Forever?.
I took part in NaNoWriMo again in 2012, writing a sword-and-sorcery fantasy novel set on a world with two suns, but in 2013 I went back to crime writing, which is how The Element of Death came into being. I have always enjoyed trying to solve puzzles, either in books or on screen, and I wanted to pay my own homage to writers such as Conan Doyle in this novel by devising the various coded messages that are left behind at the crime scenes.
With acknowledgements to the great crime fiction writers, especially Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie and Dan Brown, for providing the inspiration for this novel
This book is dedicated to my wife and children, who have always encouraged me in my writing, and to my friends and colleagues at Fylde Brighter Writers, whose support has been invaluable. I am also indebted to Victoria, Helen and Sue for their editorial assistance and advice, both of which have, in my opinion, helped make this a better novel.
Contents
Three â âTis the Season to be Sorry
Six â Little People and Bigger Problems
Seven â A Picture From Germany
November 1>st
Mandy opens her front door when she returns home and screams as somebody pushes their way in after her. Then she laughs. It is one of her friends, playing a Halloween prank. Again.
âVery funny, you had me going for a moment there. Who is it? Alison? Or is it you, Joey? Still hoping Iâll change my mind, are you? Anyway, the jokeâs on you â itâs after midnight now so itâs no longer Halloween.â She looks at the clock; it is four minutes after four a.m. She wonders if the âruleâ about midnight is right, or is she thinking of noon on April Foolâs Day instead?
The figure, covered from head to foot in light blue operating-theatre scrubs, doesnât move. âCome on, this isn't funny any more.â She is beginning to get worried. It is one of her friends, isnât it? He â she thinks it is a he; it must be Joey â starts to walk towards her. Now she is more than worried. She no longer believes it is a prank.
She tries to run to the door, but he is faster and cuts off her escape route. His arm is round her neck and she takes a deep breath, ready to scream for help, but as she breathes in he pushes a chloroform-doused cloth over her mouth and nose. She loses consciousness.
*
When she comes to, she is unable to move. Her arms are bound tightly behind her and thick rope bites into her ankles. She can still smell traces of the chloroform on the cloth that is now being used as a gag. She screams but no sound comes out. Then she sees him, and wishes that she had remained unconscious.
He is balancing a twelve-inch carving knife in his gloved hand. She knows that knife; it is one of hers and is sharp enough to slice a hair lengthways. She imagines he is smirking at her, but cannot see his expression behind the mask. Only his eyes are visible, and they bear down on her. Then she hears him laugh.
*
He sees the look of terror in her wide-open eyes. She is probably wondering, Why me? He wonders if she would find it as funny as he does if she knew that it was because, initially, she reminded him of somebody else. Now he looks at her closely, he no longer sees the resemblance. She is just a victim of fate, a casualty of the game that he is going to play. She never will know any of that, though. He laughs again.
