Chapter One A Real Steal
It was a dark dreary day. The rain came down in stairrods. It was a typical summer’s day in June by all accounts. Inspector Wragg had been summoned with his posse of policemen to the Penthouse of one of the capital’s tallest buildings. The rooms were untouched by whoever the intruder was, excepting the red paint daubing the words “THIEF” on all four walls and the body of a man stretched out on his desk with hands and feet nailed to the surface. There was an agonised look of disbelief on his face as the blood had trickled slowly from his body. Inspector Wragg stood with both hands on hips looking at the scene, and said, ‘Can someone stop that blood dripping, it will ruin the carpet!’
The two constables grinned at one another. Blood had spread over much of the carpet. If anything it was ready to be thrown away.
A constable placed a sheet round the ankle to stop it dripping. The sheet soon became sodden.
‘Looks like we have a killer with a wry sense of humour’ said the Inspector.
‘Must be a bible basher. What do think sir?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I think it’s a lot more serious than somebody with a whim for fanciful killings. When the pathologist has been and the body taken away, we can search the premises and see if we can find some sort of motive.’ Inspector Wragg looked at his watch, his nose twitching like a water diviner as his impatience grew. ‘Where is he for heavens sake? He was in the car behind mine.’ Constable Dotrice informed the Inspector that the pathologist was on his way, but was walking up the stairs as at one time he had had a nasty experience in a lift. ‘Damn the man!’ said the Inspector looking at his watch again, ‘it will soon be tea time.’
Simon Crook the pathologist came into the room and bent over in pain, breathing very heavily.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ said the Inspector
‘It’s a bloody long way up!’
‘Of course it is, it’s the Penthouse, you should have used the lift.’
Simon grunted, ‘Where’s the body then?’
‘On the desk!’
‘Oh bloody hell, all that blood.’
Simon got out his handkerchief and placed it round his mouth.
‘Where’s the bathroom?’
The Inspector pointed – ‘I think it’s that way.’
Simon Crook burst through the bathroom door and in the background they could hear him retching for a couple of minutes. Inspector Wragg looked at his watch again. Simon came out of the toilet looking quite pale.
‘I think you’re in the wrong job Mr Crook if blood upsets you that much, you’re bound to come across someone all messed up like this poor sod!’
Simon grunted again and bent over the body – after making an inspection, he said that the body could be moved.
Inspector Wragg asked the policeman who was also a carpenter to come in and extract the nails.
Simon Crook packed his bag and holding his handkerchief up to his mouth walked out of the penthouse and started for the stairs.
The Inspector yelled out ‘Use the lift! The body will show signs of rigor mortis by the time you get to the ground floor.’
Reluctantly Simon entered lift number two as there was not much room in the other lift with the body and two medics and the stretcher which had to be practicably set at an angle, almost standing up straight. The victim’s feet kept falling out of the blood sodden sheet. Someone had forgotten to bring the black bag to place the body in. Inspector Wragg was a bit annoyed by the whole charade. Fred Karno’s army shouldn’t be too worried after the shambles that had ensued this last hour and a half.
The Inspector donned his white gloves and his men did likewise and they began to search the rooms. The Inspector didn’t have to look very far because nailed to the blotting paper pad was a letter.
The typed letter read:-
The Letter heading was “Get a Great Deal at Steal” Independent Financial Advisors
“To whom it may concern:- The thieving bastards took over £45,000 of my money and now each director is going to pay with his life!”
The Inspector didn’t have to look very far for the typewriter that had been used.
‘I must say!’ said the Inspector, ‘He or she must be a very cool customer, typing out this note while the victim bled to death.’
‘You think it could be a woman who did the dirty, sir?’
‘It could be. My wife, she often bangs in a nail or two.’
‘I suppose there are no fingerprints on the keys Inspector?’
‘You’ve guessed right Constable, but check every part of that machine. Better bag it and take it to the police station.’
‘Okay Inspector.’
Inspector Wragg laughed as he looked at the letter heading – ‘Very catchy that.’
‘What’s that sir?’
‘The heading – “Get a Great Deal at Real Steal” ‘Very clever. Looks like our victim went too far and stole the money, but where did he put it? That’s the question constable, where did he put it?’
‘Sir!’ said a constable as he picked up and examined the back of the letter. ‘There are nine lots of initials. C. S. G. A. J. C. J. W. P. L. T. B. S. C. G. L. G. R.
Do you think they could be initials of the other members of the company?’
‘You could be right Constable, rather silly leaving those clues behind, don’t you think.’
‘Yes sir, maybe he….’
‘Or she.’ said the Inspector.
‘Well maybe whoever did this wants to be caught.’
‘I don’t think so, constable, I think it was an oversight and the person didn’t have time to dwell. We could have passed whoever it was along the corridor on the ground floor. One never knows.’ ‘Do we know the name of the joker who was nailed to the desk?’ Constable Dotrice said. ‘I believe it was Colin Steal the senior director!’
‘We don’t have to worry about him, he’s already had the chop.’ said Inspector Wragg.
‘Better check up on the initials and find out their names and warn them, who’s first on the list?’
‘The initials are G.A., Inspector.’
‘Let’s get back to headquarters and see if we can trace this joker.’ The Inspector looked at his watch again, it was almost six pm. The grimace on his face told the two constables not to say anything on the way back to the station. ‘If that bloody pathologist hadn’t taken so long to get to the flat I wouldn’t be missing my tea.’ Inspector Wragg was just imagining his wife Gladys tapping her foot on the floor wondering where her man was. He sat bolt upright which startled both the constables, they thought he was taken ill or something. They never said anything. Inspector Wragg moaned, ‘Blooming heck I just remembered it’s my wife’s birthday today and I should have been back early to take her out. You two drop me off at home and see if you can sort things out on your own. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?’
‘Yes sir!’
