Tidal Rage by David Evans (bill gates books to read txt) 📕

pulling out a chunk of her hair and scalp, and I have asked Speedy to cross-reference this unusual action.”

“What name please, Fabienne?”

“Ghislaine said you would remember him; the pianist, Sebastian McKenzie.”

“Yes, I do remember him; half-white, half-Asian, with a wig or toupee on.”

“There is more,” Fabienne revealed.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Fabienne.”

“He has a clear link with Cutler’s sister’s murder, and guess what; he was on the ship on which Manfred Shultz’s wife went missing.”

Stahmer took a deep intake of breath. “Are you saying there is a possibility that he is also responsible for Elisa’s death and Manfred’s wife?”

“No, I’m saying there is a strong, causal link, firm enough to arouse Speedy to spit his name out several times and to link him to those events.”

“You’re saying that this guy has done it before. The lifeboat incident sounds entirely different from Cutler’s sister’s death.”

“Maybe he was covering up? Maybe someone found out about him,” Fabienne conjectured.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“There’s more. When his name popped up, we referenced all known missing persons and events around him. We also referenced missing persons from all the geographical positions he has lived in, and the date he lived there.”

“Very astute of you, Fabienne.”

“We have links to another twenty missing or dead victims on the ships he has been on. In some cases, body parts have been washed up. Some had the same injuries as Elisa, hair tugged out.”

“We’ve got ourselves a serial killer,” Stahmer stated.

“I would say we have a serial killer with trichotillomania tendencies.”

“Trichotillomania?” Stahmer inquired.

“Overwhelming desire and need to pull out hair.”

“He was wearing a wig. Ghislaine said there was something strange about his hair,” Stahmer responded.

“Speedy also spat out another potential victim, but I’m not sure, as our pianist would have only been a little boy when it happened.”

“Tell me more.”

“A little girl was found twenty years ago stuffed inside a farm slurry tank. The reports state the farm had not used that tank for years, and she went missing when Sebastian McKenzie lived in the area as a child. Although the body was badly decomposed, the post-mortem revealed a head injury that is consistent with hair being ripped out. They also found a rucksack, and a capped bottle of water underneath the body.”

“And they didn’t do DNA checks in those days,” Stahmer added.

“That is correct, but they do keep evidence in vacuum packs on all unsolved cases. I even know the evidence number and location,” Fabienne said with a slight air of satisfaction.

“Have you been able to trace a DNA sample from McKenzie?”

“No, he has never been arrested in the US, so we have no DNA, even if we access the evidence. You must understand that a lot of the evidence we have collected is not legal and would not stand up in court. We may have identified him, but we have no reliable evidence to have him arrested,” Fabienne ventured.

“We need a sample of his DNA, and we need that evidence. I can get a sample from McKenzie if you or Cutler can use your influence to get the DNA extracted from that evidence,” Stahmer said.

“Even if you get his DNA, the years may have degraded the DNA on the water bottle, although I’m sure with the advancement in technology that if there is DNA on the bottle, it will be able to be isolated and identified.”

“Cutler needs to know now,” Stahmer interjected.

“Sorry, Robert, I’ve been overruled by Cheryl. She says that Cutler has enough on his plate at the moment and she doesn’t want him side-tracked. She says he will still be there next week, when the timing will be better.”

“Well, it must be significant, as this was the news Cutler has been waiting for. I am not going to take the chance. McKenzie is still on the Classical Canta Libra, and looking at this schedule, they are due to lay off outside Capri the day after tomorrow. I’m going to be there.”

“Why don’t you wait for Cutler? You have no legal authority over there, and what can you do?” she asked.

“Get a sample of his DNA. Secondly, interview him with the facts, then wait for Cutler to see how he wants to progress the case.”

“Take care, Robert. It sounds to me as if you’ve made your mind up.”

 

Chapter Thirty-One

Cortez visited several non-tourist bars in the Kusadasi area, seventy miles from Akbuk. He had mixed with several unsavoury characters and had expressed an interest in hunting, and maybe hunting boar in the hills around the resort. It had taken long, several bottles of Efes beer to be exact before Mehmet had taken an interest in him.

Mehmet was of Kurdish descent and had moved to the area when the Turkish government had flooded the area he had once lived.

First, he tried to sell Cortez a villa in the local area, then he attempted to sell him an apartment, which was several thousand euros cheaper, all to no avail. Cortez made his situation clear; he was only interested in hunting.

For over twenty years, Mehmet had relied on his charm and sales skills to survive. He had his fingers in lots of little pies, and he had maintained a comfortable life on the back of these skills. For a hundred and fifty euros, he would take Cortez on a guided tour further north, and they could do a little hunting there. Again, when he heard Cortez’s reply, he had to change tactics to ensure a sale.

“You want a gun to go shooting wild boar. You do not want any guides, and you want the guns quickly. I must admit this is not a normal transaction we get asked for often; Turkish baths, gulet trips, yes; but weapons, not so much,” he stated.

“Not one gun but