Whisper For The Reaper by Jack Gatland (best book series to read TXT) 📕

Banisch stared at Monroe for a long moment.

‘Well, I didn’t do it,’ he said.

It was early evening before the CSI reopened the site to the public, and the Maidenhead officers returned to base. Declan was ahead of them, already sitting in DCI Freeman’s office as the case was officially closed.

‘I just need a day,’ Declan pleaded. ‘Cross the t’s and dot the i’s. Nothing more.’

‘You don’t believe it was suicide,’ Freeman complained. ‘You’re just going to make things difficult.’

‘You don’t believe it was suicide either,’ Declan replied. ‘If you believed any of this was cut and dried, you wouldn’t have allowed me to take on the case.’

‘Rolfe admitted the murders,’ Freeman insisted. ‘The coin they found on him also had Nathanial Wing’s prints on it.’

‘We have footage that shows Wing giving it to Rolfe the day before he died,’ Declan replied. ‘That doesn’t mean that it was used in his death.’

‘It doesn’t mean that it wasn’t, either!’ Freeman sat back in the chair as he rubbed at his temples. ‘I didn’t realise I was going to have an international police issue on my desk when I woke up today.’

He looked up.

‘Talking of police issue, that Makarov gun’s serial matched Hauptmann Wilhelm Müller’s ID,’ he said. ‘If Rolfe was murdered, how was it by the gun that Müller owned while on the Berlin Wall?’

‘Maybe my dad took it from Wilhelm?’ Declan asked.

‘We don’t even know if your dad met Wilhelm!’ Freeman barked back at him. ‘It’s nothing but the word of a German car mechanic! One who turns out used to be a guard on the same bloody piece of wall!’ He rubbed at his temples again.

‘You need to be reinstated in the City police, Declan,’ he muttered. ‘My ulcers can’t deal with you full time. I told you I’d heard you have a reputation for killing your suspects.’

‘I didn’t kill Rolfe,’ Declan argued. ‘You just said he killed himself.’

‘Maybe he did this because of you, I don’t know. Who was the last person to speak to him?’

Declan paused. ‘Um, actually me, sir.’

‘Christ on a cross, Walsh!’ Freeman exploded. ‘What did you say to him?’

‘Just that his sister was in the pub,’ Declan replied. ‘I swear!’

‘Twenty-four hours,’ Freeman snapped, bundling his scattered papers back together. ‘I expect a report on my desk by then. After that, the matter is closed. Until then, you can do what you want. But in twenty-four hours, this ends.’

Declan watched Freeman for a moment.

‘What aren’t you telling me, sir?’ he asked.

‘What do you mean?’ Freeman wouldn’t, no, couldn’t look Declan in the eyes.

‘You were fine with me looking into this, but the moment I mentioned Wilhelm Müller, stated that he might still be alive, you’re trying to close the case down. Why?’

‘Twenty-four hours, Declan. Find an answer that doesn’t have people returning from the dead. That’d be nice.’

‘There is something, isn’t there?’

‘Of course there bloody is,’ Freeman muttered. ‘I’m keeping it from you to ensure you have the smallest sliver of plausible deniability.’

Declan rose from the chair.

‘Thank you, sir,’ he said. Freeman grimaced.

‘My debts, all my debts to your father are wiped with this,’ he said. ‘No more.’

Declan nodded. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected this much.

‘Don’t make me regret this,’ Freeman muttered, more to himself as Declan left the office.

Ilse Müller was sitting in the Maidenhead Police canteen, stirring a mug of lukewarm coffee absentmindedly when Declan entered, walking over to her table and quietly sitting down to face her.

‘Are you—‘

‘Okay?’ she interrupted. ‘No, Mister Walsh. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again. I’ve had to identify my brother’s body, while learning that he was…’ she drifted off, staring down at the mug. Declan knew what she was saying.

That he was the Red Reaper.

‘Do you have someone who can come and be with you?’ he asked. ‘We have officers who are trained in this—‘

‘Do you?’ Ilse asked, looking up at him. ‘You have officers trained in talking to witnesses who find that not only are they illegitimate, but that their fathers and brothers are serial killers?’

Declan didn’t reply. Ilse’s face softened.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘I understand,’ Declan nodded. ‘And I hate to do this now, but I need to ask a couple of final questions. So we can close the case down.’

Ilse nodded silently. Declan looked around the almost empty canteen before continuing, as if making sure that he couldn’t be heard.

‘I understand you were with my dad the night he died.’

Ilse nodded. ‘Karl took me to meet him,’ she replied, still stirring. ‘I needed closure on whether Wilhelm Müller was alive or dead.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘He wouldn’t answer my questions,’ Ilse admitted. ‘In fact, he was angry at Karl for bringing me under false pretences, as Karl hadn’t mentioned that I’d be there. He was angry and left. We only learned later of his death.’

Declan nodded, visibly swallowing as he kept his emotions in check. ‘Do you think that Wilhelm Müller is alive or dead?’ he asked. Ilse looked away, across the canteen as she formed a reply.

‘I think he lives somewhere, I don’t know where,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t think your father was a killer.’

‘Hypothetically, could he have learned of your arrival in England? If he still lived?’

‘Possibly,’ Ilse nodded. ‘Hurley is a small village. I was the only German visiting.’

‘Could he have followed you to the Dew Drop Inn?’

Ilse looked at Declan in horror now. ‘You think I could have led him to your father?’ she asked, her voice only a croak now. ‘I never considered it. But sure, I suppose…’

There was a moment of silence as Declan watched Ilse. She seemed genuinely concerned by this thought.

‘One last thing, I need to discuss your contract termination,’ he said softly. ‘Our DCI is in Berlin, and he spoke to a friend of Rolfe’s who informed us that Bayer Ingelhelm let you go, after you took some stock of an untested trial medicine.’

‘Margaret Li,’ Ilse muttered. ‘Bitch never liked me. I’ll bet she