Devil in the Detail by A.J. Cross (love novels in english .txt) 📕

‘Put these in the homicide file while I get a grip on my perceptions.’

Five minutes later, the phone rang. He reached for it. ‘Watts. Yeah?’ He came upright. ‘That was quick! We’re on our way.’

He cut the call, reached for his own phone, tapped a number, under close scrutiny from Judd mouthing, What?

‘Hope you haven’t gone far, Traynor.’ He nodded. ‘Yes. Soon as you can.’

1.10 a.m.

On headquarters’ forensic floor, Chong was standing beside a tall, dark-haired man and making introductions.

‘This is Detective Inspector Bernard Watts, Senior Investigative Officer for the Lawrence homicide, Dr William Traynor, criminologist who is consulting on the case and police constable Chloe Judd.’ To all three, she said, ‘This is Dr Miles Mathison, ballistics expert. He’s going to tell us what he knows of the weapon recovered on Saturday morning, fairly close to the scene of the Lawrence shooting.’

‘Whereabouts, exactly?’ asked Watts.

‘Adam has photographs for you, but it was a few metres away from the Lawrences’ car, inside a deep hole,’ said Chong.

‘Dropped or concealed?’

‘Both are possibilities. I’m favouring dropped in the act of a quick exit by the gunman.’ She turned to the ballistics expert. ‘All yours, Miles.’

Mathison inclined his head to them. ‘Follow me, please.’

Watched by members of Adam’s team, they followed him to a workbench. Sitting at its centre was a lidded plastic box, something dark and shadowy inside it. He removed the lid, causing a quick intake of breath from Judd. They looked down at the dense, black object. A handgun, its grip grainy, Made in Russia etched on its side. Pulling on soft, white gloves, Mathison reached for it.

‘First, I’ll run through a description and some brief history. This is a converted Baikal Model IZH 798. They were originally made to look like a Marakov, a Soviet side arm, but unlike the military version they were designed with a semi-obstructed barrel which prevented the discharge of bulleted cartridges but allowed the discharge of eight-millimetre Lachrymator cartridges.’ He looked up at them. ‘So-called tear-gas cartridges. They were intended for the civilian market as a non-lethal personal protection option. There’s been a huge influx of these guns into the UK from Lithuania since the early 2000s, which is where they were illegally converted to discharge nine-millimetre short calibre cartridges.’ He looked at Watts. ‘You’re familiar with such a weapon, Detective Inspector?’

Watts nodded. ‘I’ve seen them over the years. Usually with a silencer and Russian or Czech ammunition, all wrapped up nice and neat in a happy bag.’

Judd frowned. ‘Happy bag?’

‘Con lingo for anything holding criminal tools of the trade.’

They watched as Mathison expertly handled the gun and demonstrated its loading mechanism. ‘The UK has a huge converted gun problem. The Baikal has some aesthetic appeal: see how black, how compact it is? Since it flooded into the UK it’s become a popular street gun, in fact, the street weapon of choice, favoured within British gang culture and also by gang bosses to enforce compliance. It’s also known as Hitman’s Kit because it can be used at close range, victims rarely escaping with their lives.’

Mathison replaced the gun in its container, then removed the gloves. ‘Are there any further questions?’ No one spoke. ‘In that case, if further queries should arise, Dr Chong has my contact details.’

‘Thank you, Miles. We’re very grateful for your expertise,’ said Chong. ‘I’ll show you out.’ She turned to Watts. ‘I’ll see you all at the Lawrence vehicle in five minutes.’

They were back inside the huge space, Chong carrying the plastic box. Placing it on a shelf, pulling on latex gloves, she removed the handgun. To Watts, it looked harsh and sinister in her slim brown hand. They followed her to the Lawrences’ Toyota, its front seats still occupied by the mannequins. She got inside and slid along the rear seat to its midpoint, her colleagues watching.

‘You know from earlier how the shots fired at Michael and Molly Lawrence started and ended their journeys, plus the trajectory of each bullet. I want to see how easy this gun is to manipulate in a confined space.’

She raised the muzzle of the gun towards the light-coloured upholstery high on the rear of the driver’s seat, close to an ill-defined mark. ‘See that? This gun was resting on the top of this seat when it was fired, which resulted in a discharge of hot gases and particulates. In Mike Lawrence’s case it left the star-shaped pattern on the left side of his face and probably a similar configuration on his wife’s clothing. The marks confirm that the muzzle of this gun was held very close to each of them when it was fired. In Molly Lawrence’s case, the gun was fired from this position.’ She sat forward, moved the gun between the two front seats. She frowned. ‘It feels awkward but the gun is light and handles easily, even for someone of my small stature. The added advantage of being in the rear seat is that it put distance between him and both victims.’

Lowering the gun, she slid across the seat and out. She looked at each of them, her face and tone serious. ‘It’s your job to deduce motive and intent for these murders, but to me there’s an element of cold-blooded execution about them.’

Back in the office several minutes later, Watts was staring down at the table, his arms folded.

‘Execution means punishment or retribution as motive.’ He looked up. ‘Why would anybody have that kind of issue with an interior designer and a finance manager, which as far as I can make out is an accountant? Why would anybody want them dead?’

Judd’s head was resting on her forearms. ‘How about one of Mike Lawrence’s clients hated the puce-and-acid-yellow scatter cushions? Or, maybe somebody got done big-time by the Inland Revenue because of a dodgy tax return Molly Lawrence filed.’

‘Execution as motive raises some real possibilities,’ said Traynor quietly. ‘A professional attack by a single-minded, organized, professional criminal