To Catch A Killer

To Catch A Killer (11) Fight and Flight(Watty Awards 2012)

Hi again! I'll be updating a bit more often now because of how close to the end of the Watty dedline is! Please vote and comment!

Yet again we hit a brick wall in our enquiries. Just as we were sure that we had a plausible suspect up on the list, he was crossed off almost as quickly as his name was written down. It just didn’t add up. These were obviously not crimes of passion, but pure premeditated and cold-blooded, murder. We were either dealing with a psychopath or an extremely unstable sociopath. But in my mind, there was only a fine thin line between the two things.

We had established Mrs Sanders, our newest victim's, basic movements twenty-four hours prior to her death. It appeared that the killer knew that her lover was on a late night flight from Boston into Manchester, and that he wouldn’t be arriving at the hotel until the early hours of the morning. We also suspected that the killer knew that her lover had to cancel his flight at the last minute, effectively giving him a larger window of opportunity to commit the murder, clean up any traces, and leave. The time of death was between nine and eleven the night before. 

Unfortunately for us, it was a period of time where traffic in the lift lobby was at its peak. To pile onto already large number of unfortunate events, the corridors of the hotel did not have any security cameras. This left us clueless to the comings and goings of people, especially that of Room 477.

Meanwhile, we were unable to find the lover, Davis Mortimer, who was Sander's husband’s business partner and best friend until he turned up at the hotel at around ten in the morning the next day. As soon as he stepped foot into the foyer, the receptionist pointed him out to an officer. It didn’t take long before he was singing like a proverbial bird about the affair with his best friend’s wife. He told us of how they would meet to ‘blow off steam’ whenever her husband was away for more than a few days. The Imperial Hotel wasn’t their only place to go for their sleazy meetings, apparently, they also frequented a couple of other hotels in the vicinity.  It was sickening how he wore betraying a childhood friend like a badge of honour.

I now had to relay this information to the grief-stricken shell of a man that now sat across the table from me. Another part of the job that I absolutely hated. Jason Sanders was a well-built man with strong stoic features. The only signs of his distress because of his wife's death were the red rim surrounding his blood-shot eyes and the clenching and unclenching of his jaw.

“I’m afraid that there is more bad news for you, Mr Sanders.” I said slowly and calmly, hoping that he was not the sort of man that became violent easily.

The flimsy plastic chairs of Interview Room Three, in the station, were only a temporary feature and had been placed inside only minutes before our meeting. The room itself was unusually chilly but I put that down to the nature of the conversation that was being carried out at the time. The dull blue walls and carpet were less than appealing to the eyes even at the best of times. But at that moment, the arctic seemed a veritable paradise compared to where I was seated.

“Inspector, I don’t believe that there is anything that you could say right now that could top the news that I have already received today,” he stated in a emotionless and monotonous voice. Taking in a deep breath, he then placed his hands on the table, with his fingers interlocked. "Whatever you have to say, just get on with it," he said wearily.

I swallowed. "This is not going to go down well," I thought to myself. Nevertheless, I began anyway, “I’m afraid that you may be wrong, sir. Am I right in thinking that you knew that your wife frequented about four different hotels within a thirty mile radius of your home?” I questioned hesitantly, unwilling to set off the already tightly coiled man before me. Somehow, I had already gotten the impression from him that although he was surprised that his wife was dead, the scene of crime though, didn't surprise him as much. He may not have known what she was really doing there, but he knew that she was there nonetheless.

“Yes I do, but what does her spa addiction have anything to do with the reason she was killed?” he asked through clenched teeth, albeit a little confused, but upset at her death all the same.

He was staring intensely at me and I knew that I had to give the signal to the others who were standing behind the one way glass. I raised my ring finger on my left hand to my temple and made a waving action signalling to the others that they were to activate the new external locking system.

“Well..." I dragged out, rather unwilling to continue, "I regret to inform you that your wife was having an affair with your business partner, Mr Mortimer.” I had barely finished my sentence before Jason Sanders was up on his feet as his chair clattered noisily to the ground. At his movement, the muscles in my body, which had been slack just a second ago, immediately tensed, ready to spring into action at less than a moment's notice.

“You mean to tell me," he drew in a shaky breath, as in trying to rein in his anger. A moment later, he continued, "You mean to tell me that... that my best friend was messing around with my wife behind my back?” He slammed his hands onto the table and glared down at me.

The situation was slipping out of control and rapidly spiralling towards disaster. I sent a furtive glance sideways at the people watching from the adjoining  room. When I looked back, it was only in time to see Sanders wrench open the door and storm out of the room. I cursed loudly before getting up and in pursuit of the man. I just hoped that Mortimer was no longer in the station, for his own safety. Either that or that we would be able to subdue a furious Mr Sanders.

I ran after him down the corridor. Before I made it to the first set of double doors at the end of the corridor that he had gone through, Peters, Carter and Morgan caught up to me.

“Why the hell didn’t you use the automatic lock?” I yelled at them as we rounded the corner after our runaway. He was heading towards the entrance, probably leaving to find the object of his anger.

“We did, but it didn’t work!” Morgan said indignantly, puffing slightly as he sped up with Peters to try and catch up to him before he reached the entrance.

“Bloody typical,” I muttered under my breath as I pushed my way through the last set of doors to see a terrified Davis Mortimer in the lobby in front of a livid Jason Sanders.

There was a moment of utter silence and stillness as they eyed each other. The tension in the air felt so thick that it seemed as though I could cut through it with a knife. It was as though time itself had stopped. I grimaced. This was definitely not going to be good.

And then he lunged forward.

Killer's POV

I had to suppress a grin of triumph as Sander's fist hit home with a more than satisfactory crack. If it had been just me and them in a room and we had been anywhere else but here, I would have allowed Sander's to finished what he wanted to do to his yellow rat of a friend. But unfortunately, I couldn’t. I sighed mentally, where were the dramatics when you needed it?

I had to retreat further back in our conjoined conciseness and allow my other half to take control to help restrain the fuming man. The satisfaction of the sound of breaking was nothing compared to the satisfaction that both of us felt as our eyes took in the sight of Mortimer’s bloody face. Ducking my head, I let a small smile escape from him onto my face. It was always good to see sinners get their comeuppance.