Rules of Vengeance Read Online Free PDF Page B

the sidewalk and nearly ran over a mother and daughter. The incident had cost Laxton a promotion to detective chief inspector and put a halt to any further advancement within the force. Kate knew all the details. The adjudicating officer had been Lieutenant William Donovan.
    “So that’s everything?” she asked.
    “All yours,” said Laxton. “Have a look around, but I’m sure it’s just a formality. Russell’s got some kind of security system up there. Motion detectors, pressure pads, thermal sensors. There’s no way someone could have gotten into the place to harm him. Take my word, Katie. I know a jumper when I see one.”
    “Got it, Ken. Thanks.”
    “I’ll stick around for a bit, if you need me,” said Laxton, rocking on his heels.
    “Aren’t you set to go off shift at seven?”
    “Doesn’t matter. I’m happy to help.”
    It suddenly struck Kate why he was even more dressed up than usual. Russell’s death was sure to stir up a hornet’s nest of media attention, and Pretty Kenny wanted his share of the spotlight. He’d probably already worked out how appearing in the papers would return him to the Met’s good graces and get him another crack at a promotion.
    “That won’t be necessary,” said Kate.
    “Really, I can stay. You might need an extra hand.”
    “I can handle it from here. I’ll catch you back at the nick.”
    Laxton frowned, then stormed off.
    “Oh, Ken,” she called after him. “Who belongs to the blue Rover over there?” She pointed to a navy four-door Rover parked next to the ambulance. No other private vehicle was parked inside the police tape.
    “Don’t know. It was there when we arrived.”
    Laxton stalked back to his car. The wind picked up, making a mess of his hair. For once Pretty Kenny left it alone.
    Kate returned to her car and took a box of latex gloves from the backseat. “Sergeant Cleak,” she called out as she slipped on the gloves. “The time is now six-oh-seven. Please note that as of this moment, we have officially taken charge of this investigation.”
    “Yes, boss.” Reginald Cleak fell in behind her. Balding, stout, and possessed of untrammeled humor, Cleak was a thirty-five-year veteran of the Met and Kate’s right hand. Over the years the two had done tours together in fraud, cybercrime, and most recently the Flying Squad, better known as “the Sweeney,” the elite task force assigned to hunt down and capture armed robbers.
    In one hand Cleak held a notepad, in the other a pen. The notepad was officially known as the “decision log.” It was Sergeant Cleak’s job to follow Kate around the crime scene and record every order, observation, and instruction she gave. The reasons were twofold: First, if Lord Russell had by some stretch of the imagination been murdered, and if one day his murderer was brought to the Old Bailey, the decision log would serve as a minute-by-minute record of every step taken during the investigation. Second, after the investigation and trial were completed, the log would be the subject of a thorough analysis conducted by the Murder Review Board.
    “Victim is Robert Russell. Approximately thirty years of age. Cause of death, blunt force trauma resulting from a fall from the fifth floor of his residence at One Park Lane, London.” Kate knelt. “Let’s have a closer look, then,” she said. “You may do the honors, Sergeant Cleak.”
    Cleak pulled off the sheet.
    Russell lay facedown, his neck clearly broken, head bent grotesquely to one side. It appeared as if he’d landed head first. There was a lot of blood, but it didn’t faze Kate. She’d seen worse.
    The deceased was dressed in a blue blazer, jeans, and a collared shirt. The force of impact had scattered his shoes and personal effects to the far end of the driveway. Kate noted that his arms were splayed to either side of his torso and that the palms were turned up. She lifted his left wrist. The crystal of his Rolex wristwatch was shattered.
    Odd, she