Free The Facebook Killer by M. L. Stewart

car park. The pink Mini was
still there. He glanced towards the bar. The rage started to simmer
when he saw him. Hussain was here. Now was the time. Norman stood
up and approached Hussain.
    “Sorry to bother you but do you know who that
pink Mini belongs to?” he asked pointing towards the window.
    “Yeah, one of the barstaff. Why?”
    “Because the headlights were left on all
night. I should have told someone before but I have early onset
Alzheimer's,” he explained.
    Norman turned away from the bar and left, he
was waiting for his “thank you” but it never came. He waited in the
shadows across the street.
    Alicia came out of the pub first, car keys in
hand. She tried to start the car but it just churned over slowly.
Hussain came out next, bringing a smile to Norman’s face. The
knight in shining armour. When he heard the dead battery he snapped
some orders at Alicia and got behind the car ready to push. As soon
as Norman saw Hussain’s hands touch the boot he knew his job was
complete.
     

Chapter 11
     
    “Good morning. This is the eight o’clock news
live from BBC London. I’m Richard Noble.
    The Metropolitan Police have announced a
breakthrough in the double murder of Nazim Khan and Katherine Bell
who were found dead following a blaze in their Worcester Road flat
on Tuesday.
    Following an anonymous tip-off last night two
people have been arrested in connection with the murders. A police
spokesman said that a substantial amount of incriminating evidence
was found in the boot of a motor vehicle, which is believed to
belong to a close relative of Miss Bell. It is believed that the
second person arrested acted as an accomplice and will remain in
custody until forensic results have been confirmed. We’ll keep you
updated throughout the day here on BBC London.”
    Norman had done a first rate job. The
evidence they were talking about was Albert’s crowbar, the petrol
can, a couple of empty cement bags, which would show traces of the
powerful antifreeze he used in the mix, the trowel and some
downloads he had printed out in an internet café at King’s Cross
about how to professionally brick up an unwanted window. With
Hussain’s prints all over the boot, there was no way would they
walk away from this. Hook, line and fucking sinker. I don’t know
what motive the police would find, but I’m sure they’d come up with
something.
    I was buzzing. I was beginning to think
laterally now. Out of the box as they say. I had suddenly realized
that this didn’t have to be a chore. It was something I should
enjoy. After all it might be the last thing I ever do.
    Tomorrow the Russians would have some of our
shopping, then things would become much more fun.
     

Chapter 12
     
     
    Kalif got to the White Russian a little after
noon. He was surprise to see that Serge wasn’t in his usual
position behind the bar. In fact he was nowhere to be seen. Replace
by a much lager barman with a head like a concrete block, Kalif
felt a little uneasy.
    “What can I get you young man?” asked the
concrete block.
    “Errm, is Serge around by any chance?” asked
Kalif.
    “No. He has gone shopping,” replied the
block, “why don’t you take a seat and…”
    “I know,” interrupted Kalif, “it looks
suspicious if I’m not drinking.”
    And so the ceremony began once again. It
turned out the block was Serge’s cousin. He was a lot more
convivial then Serge and also drunk a lot faster which is probably
why he never normally worked behind the bar. He told Kalif that
their family were big mafia players in the Ukraine before it’s
independence. They lived like kings, he said, they had numerous
legitimate businesses to launder the money, drove the best of
imported cars and had a house for each month of the year. They were
virtually wiped out when independence was declared and the ensuing
wave anti corruption stings. They managed to get out of the country
free men with about half a million US dollars but they lost
everything that