The Chop Shop Read Online Free PDF Page A

hardback books. The television display was nearly as big
as the wall it was mounted upon.
    “Shotguns really
make a mess,” David said.
    “Did they take
anything?” Michael said.
    “Not that I can
tell,” said the forensics man. “Seems like it's just a straight up massacre.
Don't bother asking about those security cameras; the guy knew what he was
doing. The storage unit is smashed to pieces. Some of the lads are trying to
pull something of worth from the remains, but we just don't have the technical
capability for that kind of thing.
    “What's
upstairs?”
    “Another guard
and Jim Belton's son. You'll want to take a look at the latter, but I hope you
have a strong stomach. Three other bodies out back by the pool. More guards.
Nobody of note.”
    Michael went up
the stairs. The wooden steps were firm and didn't creak. A line of family
photos hung on the walls with an odd piece of abstract art placed between them
here and there. Another body. More shell casings.
    “5.56. I guess
he shot the guys out back first before coming up here. How many guns did he
bring?” Richard said.
    “It is a lot to
carry. Two guys, maybe, but one? No way,” Helen said.
    David pushed on
ahead. “Bathroom to the left, God knows what’s to the right.”
    It turned out to
be a study filled with more pieces of art. Bookshelves sagged under the weight
of scholarly books. The laptop on the desk had been tagged with a police note.
    “They should
just turn this whole place into an art gallery.
    People would
flock to it,” David said.
    “And the dead
bodies?” Richard said.
    “Especially with
the bodies. When they begin to decompose, some quack from the papers will be
falling all over himself to ascribe some kind of meaning to it all. Perhaps
they'll consider it a symbolic representation of natural selection. Black and
white, life and death, beginning and end. It's a guaranteed hit."
    “There's nothing
natural about dying in a hail of machine gun fire, Dave,” Helen said.
    Michael went
into the first bedroom, but like the study, it was untouched. David opened some
of the drawers. He crammed a handful of jewellery into his coat pocket.
    “Can you not do
that, please? It really messes with the whole idea of a God damn crime scene,”
Michael said.
    “No. Nobody is
going to miss it, and it meant nothing to the killer. I can get something for
all this crap from the local pawnshop.”
    “For God's
sake.”
    David ignored
him.
    “Kid's bedroom
at the end of the hall. You all need to see this,” Richard said.
    “Yes, but you'll
regret it afterwards,” said Helen.
    Michael hurried
after the others. He stopped short in the doorway, transfixed by the sight of a
young boy pinned to the wall by a barrage of industrial-sized nails.
    “It seems like
somebody really wanted to hammer their point home,” David said.
    Michael went to
the window. It looked out over the back to where the swimming pool was, where
three corpses floated in the bloody water. Just past the swimming pool was a
small shack where he supposed the security detail lived when off duty.
    "He used a
nail gun, not a hammer," Michael said.
    "Yeah,
well, a single shot to the head would have been nicer," Richard said.
    "Doesn't
matter. The end result is the same," David said.
    Michael moved
closer to the body. “Okay, look; he's been deliberately killed in a different
fashion to everybody else. Obviously we can all see that the gunman wanted to
send a message, but check this out. The boy's weight should be heavier than the
nails can bare. They haven't penetrated far enough into the wall. It's like he
weighs nothing at all. There's something wrong with him, look at his bones.”
    Helen opened
some of the drawers. “Medicines in here. Already tagged by forensics. Nice of
them to forget to mention those to us. Looks like that's everything. The guys
who did this are professionals. We won't get them. Let's bin the case now and
move onto something we can solve.”
    “Good. I want