Free A Killing Karma by Geraldine Evans Page A

station.
     
    It didn't take
long to retrieve the CCTV tapes and get the house-to-house questioning set in
motion. But after viewing the tapes, Catt told Casey that the victim didn't
feature on any of them.
    ‘Must have
been brought the back way and avoided the cameras,’ he said.
    Casey nodded.
‘We'll just have to hope the house-to-house teams discover something, though as
it seems he was dumped in that alleyway before most people stir out of their
houses, the possibility of getting information from such a source is likely to
be slim at best.’
    Casey hated
John Doe cases. At least with an immediate identity they had something to start
from. But here, he would just have to hope the pictures of the dead man he had
instructed the photographer to forward to the media brought forth some results.
    As it
happened, and though he had yet to discover this, finding out the victim's
identity turned out to be the easy part. Unfortunately, discovering who had
wanted the man dead and in such a way, looked likely to be a far more lengthy
job.
     
     

Chapter Seven
    Catt perched
on the corner of Casey’s desk. He must have paid a visit to the gents' toilet
since returning to the station, because his hair was now so immaculate one
would never have thought the wind had dared to play with it. He swung his right
leg as he awaited the allotment of another job. ‘By the way,’ he said to Casey,
‘there's a woman in reception I think might interest you.’
    'Oh yes?’
    'I overheard
her reporting her husband missing as I came back from viewing the CCTV footage
and I hung around to earwig. Said husband sounds an awful lot like the John Doe
we found in the alley. Even down to the clothes he was wearing.’
    Casey snatched
up the telephone and got through to the front office. ‘You've a woman in
reception who's reported her husband missing. Don't let her leave. I'm coming
right down.’ He asked the woman's name, replaced the receiver and hurried to
the ground floor.
    Casey entered
reception and saw a tall, well-built woman at the counter. He walked towards
her. ‘Mrs Oliver?’ he asked.
    She nodded.
    ‘I'm DCI
Casey. I understand you've just reported your husband missing?’
    ‘That's
right.’
    ‘Perhaps you'd
like to come up to my office and we can talk?’
    For a moment,
Mrs Oliver looked vaguely alarmed at this invitation as if she would have felt
easier talking to some junior officer. She certainly seemed surprised that an
officer of his rank should concern himself with her missing husband. Then she
gave a faint shrug and followed Casey to the keypad-controlled door that led to
the main body of the station. She waited while he keyed in the entry code. He
opened the door and held it for her to go through.
    Once in his
office, he asked if she had a recent photo of her missing husband.
    ‘Yes. I
thought it would be useful, so I brought this.’ She reached into her capacious
handbag and, from one of the side pockets, pulled out a glossy eight by ten
inch photo and handed it to him. ‘That picture was taken last year. It's a good
likeness.’
    Casey nodded
as he stared at the photo. There was no doubt that it was their John Doe. He
stared for a few moments more at the photo as he gathered his thoughts and
decided how to best break the news of her husband's violent death. But before
he did that, he checked on what her husband had been wearing. As he'd expected,
the clothing was a match for their cadaver.
    ‘I’m afraid,
Mrs Oliver, that from the evidence of the photograph and clothing, I have some
bad news for you. A man answering your husband's description was found dead in
an alley in the town this morning.’
    She stared at
him without uttering a sound, but her shock showed in the tightly-clenched
fingers on the handles of her bag.
    ‘Of course, to
be certain, we need someone to identity the body. Is there someone, a relative,
say, who could do that?’
    Mrs Oliver
shook her head.
    ‘What about
friends who know your husband