The Problematic Package

A Story by Mark Witterick

An Inspector gets the hardest case of his life. With it comes his past.

Prologue:

I sighed heavily as I walked up the road, I hated this job. I hated this life. There was nothing real about it. It was all a lie from my website to my name from my smile to my Rolex. As I knocked on the door I prepared my smile I had practiced this a million times I held the package in my hand. Once I sold this I could finally take a break from this shady business, the money would last me a long time I could start over properly. I had been risking it for far too long, but if I could finish this sale it would all have been worth it.

I groaned loudly hearing the doorbell ring couldn’t a girl get any time to read? I knew signing up for that new delivery company was a bad idea now there was going to be a lot of pressure to buy more, great! “Yes?” I said curtly opening the door to a short man in a suit. “Hello!” He responded brightly with a dazzling smile no doubt practised over and over. “My name is James Kondor you ordered this package from my business I believe?” I thought for a moment before replying. “I did. However it was simply to spite my recently divorced husband before the split. However now that I have got the settlement I have no interest in spending money on something worthless . I would have emailed but there was no contact information on your website” His brow furrowed “We have a no returns policy I am afraid.” I put my hands on hips and looked down at him emphasising my height; big mistake: “Look here little guy-” I was cut off by his fist I saw no more after that...

Chapter 1:

I was halfway through my swing when I heard my ring-tone go off, the distraction sent my shot spiralling off right landing directly in the water hazard. Cursing to myself I answered ,“Inspector Burlow speaking what's the news?” I waited a moment before a reply came through “ Robert I've got a case for you, you are needed here now. The documents are waiting in your office.” The phone clicked signifying the end of the call. Damn, I thought to myself. There goes my golf for the week. The chief had never been particularly pleasant to me not since I had married his crush, Audrey, despite the fact he had blown his relationship with her long before we started dating, he had always held it against me even following her death 5 years ago. The doctors didn't quite know what killed her, she came down with depression after our son, Raymond, left and she never truly recovered. The grief killed her in spite of the pills which were of no use. It was an argument between the two over his friends, typical argument. They were leading him astray he didn’t believe his mother Audrey and left we never heard from him again. I felt my eyes well up at the memories I still missed her she was my first and only love we had been together for 28 years thus I couldn’t move on; not now not ever. Hence I lived alone despite the attempts of many women to induce me to share my hard earned cash. That isn’t who I am however. Over the years I had amassed a rather large amount of savings allowing me to live freely only working when I wanted something to fill the time however, I came out of semi-retirement after my wife died needing something to distract me from the loneliness which was drowning me. No doubt my looks helped, despite my greying hair, I had always kept myself in shape, consequently I had a well toned body. However at 53 I was beyond my prime by a few years now. I was of average height so was not very intimidating. My wife always said my defining feature was my eyes, small but bright green she said they could see everything someone was hiding, perhaps that’s why I was so good at my job.

I was slightly frustrated as I pushed the door open noticing the new files on my desk i had recently finished a big case of fraud and was looking forward to finally having some time off to pursue my favourite hobby of golf but 2 holes into the course I get the phone call. “Right lets see what we have here then,” I murmured quietly to myself taking a large last sip of tea finishing my brew. After reading the files and seeing the attached picture I dropped my fortunately empty mug onto the carpeted floor.I didn’t even notice as it rolled away. After the 32 years I had spent in police work I thought I had seen it all. I was wrong. I had never seen anything even close to this. “Dear god...” I whispered aloud.

Chapter 2:

As I opened the door to the victims house I took a deep breath to help prepare myself. The house was in a secluded location for which I was thankful, I had always hated the crowds which gather from concerned neighbours and worse: the press. I had seen the pictures but upon entering the bathroom I had to instantly back out; nothing could have prepared me, or anyone for that matter, for this. I had to back straight out. I felt sick. The victim was a middle aged woman named Sally Pearson who was touching forty, despite this she retained her youthful looks with long wavy red hair however this was marred slightly by the blood covering her 5’9 frame and staining the white bath tub. “Sick b*****d” I silently whispered. The corpse had both wrists tied together and the ankles were bound correspondingly she was also gagged. I had heard from the forensics no DNA could be traced however the internet history showed a search of how to remove traces of DNA. I shook my head, the youth of today I thought. The cause of death was a cut to the carotid artery in the neck. It was only by fluke the killer had managed it though. This was evident from the dozen or so slashes across the neck some horizontal some vertical strangely none were diagonal. If it wasn't for the unlucky cut of the artery the victim could have been saved. Further information informed me that Sally was a divorcee and was rather rich after she caught her ex-husband cheating and got a rather large seven figure sum off of him. The most prevalent feature however was the large bruises covering her face; this hinted at domestic violence. However she hadn’t had a relationship since she split from her husband three months ago. Thus confusion reigned.This was why I had been called in, it was hard being the best sometimes. I decided to return to the office and review what I knew. As I sat down trying to think the phone rang I saw it was the chief again and considered ignoring it but deciding it was probably about the case i answered. “Burlow here-” I was cut off quickly “We have a weapon for the Pearson case, it’s a rare 1175 tanto blade, that’s all.” The phone clicked off the chief as usual rushing to get away from me. Stranger and stranger. That was no ordinary blade. Who the hell has one of those in their back pocket? I mused puzzled.

Chapter 3:

I ran a quick search on the computer to see who could possibly have had access to such a rare item I quickly found a person who sold rare artefacts which the weapon would come under. He was named James Kondor he had a recognisable face I couldn’t place I put it down to having seen an advert somewhere. He ran a business independently selling door to door sometimes taking orders but mostly forcing people into high pressure sales situations by simply knocking. The weapon specified as killing Sally Pearson matched the description of the one on the website. Strangely it was supposedly sold according to the website at least. This mystery just deepened at every turn. There was no registered address for the business, strange I thought, that cant be legal. I rang the contact number provided on the website. I heard an automated message “This number is not in service.” The call then cut out. This business did not add up. I ran the name James Kondor through the database. No matches. Now I was thoroughly puzzled. What the hell is going on?

I decided to take a walk back at the house of Sally Pearson, I needed to clear my mind and think. Whilst absent mindedly wandering outside I bumped into a small person with bright curly blond hair the fellow was rather thin and very angry “Watch yourself!” He shouted “You tall buggers think you have right of way everywhere! You’re as bad as that b***h who lived there!” This was suspicious enough for me to question this person because no information had been released. For now I simply questioned him. “You know the occupant of this house?” He took his time replying, “Yeah I met her once she was insolent and wouldn’t follow up on her agreement.” Assuming this was simply a relationship or sexual agreement I turned away thinking to tail him and perhaps find some information out, but what I heard made me turn around and grab the guy. “She wouldn't have known what to do with it anyway so she is better off now.” No information had been released anywhere so I promptly arrested him and took him to the station. Sometimes foolish crooks made my job so easy.

I was now hoping for some well earned rest having handed Kondor over to the cell wardens. He had given a full confession after he slipped up talking to me. Turns out Pearson had bought the blade but when Kondor arrived with it she decided she didn’t want it. Kondor had gotten angry and when she remarked on his height he had grown angry and punched her knocking her out cold, this accounted for the bruises. However Kondor had once been great friends with Pearson’s ex-husband and thinking to give a little payback had tied her up taking a few humiliating pictures. However she started to shout when she regained consciousness, thus Kondor felt the need to gag her. He had been holding the blade in front of her taunting her about its qualities when a stray dog barked, Kondor had panicked and his arm twitched he saw he had left a cut on her throat. Deciding he needed to finish the job he attacked her with venom slashing at her throat ultimately landing the final cut which severed the carotid artery.

As I left the office hoping for a good nights sleep before getting back to my golf the phone rang again I cursed at the chief what could he want now? However the words the chief spoke chilled my heart “DNA results are back and he isn't James Kondor. His real name is Raymond Burlow .” My heart stopped. I dropped the phone. Staggered.”My son...”