The Patient Killer (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 4)

The Patient Killer (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 4) by Sean Campbell, Daniel Campbell Read Free Book Online

Book: The Patient Killer (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 4) by Sean Campbell, Daniel Campbell Read Free Book Online
Authors: Sean Campbell, Daniel Campbell
Tags: British, London, serial killer, Murder, organized crime, Vigilante Justice, Heist
    Marv whistled. ‘Hello, beautiful!’
    Rafferty looked to Morton for a split second, muttered, ‘Fuck it,’ and stepped forward. She grabbed Marv by the arm, twisted it behind his back and slammed him into his own desk with a bang. Nearly everyone on the floor turned to look with interest.
    ‘Do that again and you’ll find yourself short one testicle.’
    ‘Lady, you’re crazy! I ain’t done nothing.’
    ‘Morton, don’t you smell weed? I think a search might be in order.’
    Though Morton couldn’t smell anything, she must have guessed right, for Brad immediately held up his hands in surrender.
    ‘Look, lady, Marv’s an idiot. But give us a chance. What is it you want to know?’
    ‘You had a product launch on Saturday,’ Rafferty said.
    ‘Yeah, yeah. We’re launching our brand of ice cubes,’ Marv muttered, his face still pressed against his desk.
    ‘A brand of ice cubes?’ Rafferty said sceptically.
    ‘Yeah, let me up and I’ll show you.’
    Rafferty released him, and Marv rubbed at his collarbone. He turned away for a moment and opened a freezer that was underneath the desk before withdrawing ice cubes in six different-coloured trays.
    ‘Allow me to present Près Ice. Detective Morgan–’
    ‘Morton. And’ – Morton jerked a thumb at Rafferty – ‘she isn’t the only one you need to respect. Got it?’
    ‘Sorry, Detective Morton, sir. Are you by any chance a whisky drinker?’
    ‘Then you’ll know all about the different Scottish regions. Each region has a unique taste, and a big part of that is the water. Do you have yours neat?’
    ‘I add an ice cube or two.’
    ‘Then you’ll be adding tap water? Terrible idea. It’s like buying a Porsche and running it on supermarket diesel. The composition of the water is integral to the whisky, and if you put in ice from another area, you dilute it and change the flavour.’
    ‘Unless I drink it straight away before it melts,’ Morton said.
    Marv looked over to Brad for reassurance. They clearly hadn’t considered that possibility.
    ‘Proper whisky drinkers take their time,’ Brad said after a few seconds of awkward silence.
    ‘You’re saying I’m not a proper whisky drinker?’
    ‘No, but–’
    Morton decided to put them out of their misery. ‘Gentlemen, we’re not really here to debate the finer points of drinking Scotch, though for the record, I’ll take mine older than you are and served in ample quantities. The twins were at your launch party, correct?’
    ‘Yep,’ Brad said.
    ‘All night?’
    Brad looked over to Marv who nodded. ‘Yeah. All night.’
    ‘Both of them?’
    ‘I... I think so.’
    ‘And they left when?’
    ‘No idea. We left at about eleven with a lovely young lady.’ Brad high-fived Marv.
    Morton looked at them. They didn’t look like the kind of guys to be too successful with women. ‘What was her name?’
    ‘How’s that relevant?’ Marv asked.
    Morton sniffed. ‘You know, I think I do smell pot–’
    ‘Verity. Her name was Verity. There.’
    ‘The same Verity who works for the twins?’
    Marv nodded. ‘She came out to a late bar with us, and then on to a club.’
    ‘Interesting. Thank you, gentlemen.’

Chapter 8: Fallout
    T uesday April 7th 13:30
    Morton had a message waiting for him at the front desk when he arrived back at New Scotland Yard after lunch.
    The secretary on the front desk, a man whose name Morton could never remember, smiled at him politely. ‘The superintendent wishes to see you, DCI Morton.’
    Morton nodded his thanks, headed into the lift and jabbed the button for the top floor. Getting called in was never a good sign. The superintendent was notoriously hands-off in his management of the staff, so to be called in meant that he felt something was wrong. It made Morton feel like a truant schoolboy caught outside of school bounds on a weekday.
    The superintendent was waiting for him when he knocked. He was sitting

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