Second to Sin (A BlackJack Thriller Book 2) by Murray Bailey

Author:Murray Bailey [Bailey, Murray]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Three Daggers an imprint of Heritage Books
Published: 2023-03-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Balcombe had a restless night thinking about too many things. The cases of Margaret Sotherland and Theresa Pell were going around in his head, but that wasn’t unusual. He’d investigated many things in his past life as a military policeman. He could sleep well with pieces of information in his head. In fact, he could wake up having solved crimes in his sleep, or at least uncovered relevant information. This time, it was different. This time he also had the Pingping killing in his head.

He remembered the effort of climbing the building. He remembered the depraved activity he’d spied through the shutters. He remembered waiting behind the door for the right moment to attack the fat man. He’d taken over from the masseur but after gripping Pingping’s neck, the rest was a blur.

He’d taken a climbing rope to aid his escape. He knew he couldn’t go down the stairs because of the guards. He also knew he couldn’t climb down. Getting up had been one of the biggest challenges of his life. Up had been difficult. Down would be impossible.

So he’d taken the rope to rappel from the upper window. He had flashes now and then. He could see himself tie the rope. He could see himself on the rope.

But he couldn’t see himself releasing it and taking it away. Because he hadn’t. It was one thing to have BlackJack take over, but now his alter ego had made a mistake. And that concerned him more than anything.

He received a note from Albert in the morning and the return of Theresa Pell’s boyfriend’s photograph. She’d found out he was Petty Officer David Russell, quartered in the Murray Barracks, close to the Royal Docks. She also said that Davey bought a pastry from a bakery at five to eight each morning on the way to the docks.

Balcombe checked his watch. That was in half an hour.

Having no better lead, he decided to speak to the petty officer. It was a gamble. He might be recognized. Balcombe had changed his identity and there was always the risk that someone would realize who he was. That was why he normally avoided anyone who’d lived in Singapore or were military personnel.

Being a sailor made Russell less of a risk, but Balcombe decided he’d play this one straight—or at least straighter than pretending to be a reporter.

Balcombe wore a brown gaberdine coat and matching fedora. He knew he looked the part and showed Russell his old credentials as soon as the petty officer came out of the bakery.

“Special Investigations Branch?” Russell said, frowning. “Military police?”

“That’s right.”

Russell had a fresh face, sharp blue eyes and short blond hair. He was good-looking and he knew it, Balcombe judged.

Russell shook his head with a cocky smile. “You know you don’t—”

“It’s not about you,” Balcombe said, expecting the challenge. Military police dealt with the army. He’d need Navy approval to formally question a sailor. Or he’d be accompanied by a master-at-arms. “I’m investigating a soldier.”

“Oh? I only have a couple of minutes.

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