Tropical Passion Killer (No-one said it would be easy. Book 1) Read online

  Tropical Passion Killer

  Gabriel Lee

  Copyright © 2020 K.McBride

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 9798667645528

  ISBN-10:

  Cover design by: Art Painter

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  I dedicate this book to my wife Marie, my sister in law Maureen and son in law Lee with whose constant encouragement I completed my first novel.

  I also dedicate it to the Thin Blue Line of dedicated officers around the World.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Afterword

  About The Author

  Introduction

  Two young men from the North of England; Newcastle upon Tyne and Alderley Edge in Cheshire met and became good friends while studying at Newcastle University.

  They are both from wealthy families and at the end of their studies planned to travel to the Americas for a holiday exploring their respective interests. Filipe wanted to see and experience Latin America, The Inca Trail, Aztec culture, the lands of his descendants. Josh on the other hand wanted to experience life as an Native American Indian working with a tribe on the reservation. Their plan - to enjoy themselves together on the beaches and in the cities before separating and enjoying their own experiences.

  The holiday was going so well until they took the canal boat in Panama City, which initiated a series of events that leads to major crime enquires in five countries. Murder, drug trafficking and corruption.

  The investigation begins in Newcastle upon Tyne.

  Acting Detective Inspector Steve Bond of the Newcastle Major Crime Team is assigned the case by the boss Colin Tinkler.

  No one said it would be easy!

  Chapter 1

  Monday 16th May 2016

  The room was gently lit from the moonlight cascading through the drapes covering the windows, there was a vibrant warmth with a slight breeze from the overhead fan. It was silent, protected from the noise of the Caribbean party at the nearby bar by the double-glazed windows.

  She opened her eyes and lifted her head from the pillow. Looking down her body she could see his hand caressing her left breast. His hair was dark, shining, she couldn’t see his face but he was making her feel so completely lost in her own body, excited. It felt good, her head fell back onto the pillow and she closed her eyes, it was getting warmer her body becoming so sensitive.

  He smiled as he briefly looked towards the bedside drawers where she had placed his mobile to record them being together.

  Her arms were above her head and as the first waves of orgasm started to intensify she lost all sense of her surroundings, her body began to shake and eventually she gave in to the warmth of her feelings.

  She reached down and gently stroked the soft dark hair of her lover then slowly enticed him upwards, he was smiling at the recording as he rolled onto his back.

  Seeing the passion he had stirred in this beautiful woman it made him look forward to more, much more for them both. Moving down, her face always away from the recording, she kissed his body and took hold of the strong erection in her left hand. She began to slowly caress him, he was alive, she could feel him fall back onto the pillow.

  He felt so good, he thought this was his dream time, excited and yet still in control, she was good, very good.

  Reaching inside her bag at the side of the bed she pulled out a 20cm vibrator, he could hear the buzz as it was placed between his legs, the gentle vibrations were intensifying in him. She removed the slim blade from the pouch of the vibrator, 10cm of highly sharpened steel. Slowly she moved across his body and turned, careful not to be seen, his eyes were transfixed onto her slender back now bent over his body. Moving upward towards his face, she now straddled his chest her strong legs over his arms which were gently pinned against the bed.

  Striking hard, remembering what she'd been told, the sharpened blade penetrated through the chest cavity straight into his heart with ease then fully into his body. No blood escaped from the precision entry wound. His body tried to heave, she pressed back and down on to his face, he couldn’t scream, his body convulsing in sudden pain and shock. After seconds the convulsing stopped. Moving her body sideways and away from his face she placed her hand over his mouth to stop any final shouts.

  He was staring at the ceiling fan slowly turning then at her face looking down into his emptying, dark brown eyes. He was silent, his mouth moving slightly but making no sound, what was happening to him, he was certain he was dying.

  It looked as if he was saying “Why”. She slowly and carefully pulled the blade out of his chest to prevent blood escaping from the wound and took hold of his now limp penis. After cleanly slicing through it at the base, she placed it onto his chest. His eyes moved slowly as he looked down his body.

  She picked up the mobile and rewound the video and looking down into the now near empty, dying eyes of her victim, played the recording. “I will be your last memory.” The mobile was slipped back into her bag.

  Moving around the bed, he stared upwards as she loosened the bottom sheet together with the carefully prepared black plastic covering underneath it. He was now aware that his body was about to be wrapped into the envelope she was creating for him. Firstly his legs were placed inside then his arms were tucked neatly under his body. She paused, and using medicated wipes, cleaned his blood from her naked body. She was thorough he thought, as she placed the wipes on top of his chest.

  His eyes were fading. Bending over she kissed his forehead, “Gracias, you should not have fucked with Colombians.” If he could see her, he'd have seen the tears in her eyes.

  She meticulously cleaned the blade with a wipe and put it back into the vibrator pouch, placing it gently next to his limp penis which was still releasing blood onto his chest.

  Time to seal his body.

  The sheet and plastic were pulled in tightly over and around his body at the sides then finally from the top covering his head. He resisted slightly at that point, then nothing. Retrieving a large roll of strong black tape from the holdall i
n the wardrobe the envelope was sealed around the neck, chest, waist, thighs and ankles. In her mind, as she stood back and looked at the body shaped package, she agreed it was as she'd been shown.

  The tears were still rolling down her face.

  The newly filled body bag was pulled by the feet from the bed onto the floor with a thud. Taking a large towel from the bathroom she wrapped it around her body and then opened the windows slightly. The warm breeze entered the room at the same time as the salsa beat and the laughing crowd. After taking several deep breaths from the fresh air, it was time to finish off her work.

  Remaking the bed with the fresh linen that had been left inside the wardrobe, she rolled around on it, including the pillows and threw back the top sheet. The long, straight, dark brown wig she'd been wearing was put into the holdall before returning to the bathroom. Not waiting for the water to run hot in the shower, she stood for a short while with her face into the falling water crying without sound.

  Using the toiletries provided by the hotel she washed herself thoroughly removing any trace of her dead lover. The hotel room would be cleaned thoroughly and probably used again the following night.

  Makeup free, she put on a new wig and dressed in fresh clothes from the holdall.

  It was time to make the call. “Coleccion, ahora”. (collection now).

  The collection arrived within ten minutes. Two non-descript men in white coats, caps covering their heads pushing a large white cotton sack laundry trolley. They didn’t draw any attention from the partying holiday makers. Sheets had already been put in the trolley to disguise the shape of the body bag which was dropped on top then folded to fit easily into the sack. The holdall which contained her previously worn clothes, sheets and pillow cases were placed on top of the body bag which was then wheeled out from the ground floor room into the garden of the hotel and along the path to the waiting van. No words were exchanged. She examined the room one last time looking for any forensic evidence that may have been overlooked. Job done, she thought.

  The music was playing and the bar was still occupied with a few holiday makers dressed in Hawaiian shirts, shorts and flip flops, drinking their all-inclusive Margaritas and Mojitos and dancing to the loud beat and rhythm of the Salsa and Merengue. No one noticed the collection.

  Once they'd left, she put on a wide, floppy brimmed straw hat, walked through the garden, and as the room had been prepaid through an agency, took a waiting taxi into town.

  She went to the Mosquito night club, the largest club on the island and after acknowledging one of the doormen she was escorted to the VIP lounge. He was a tall man, handsome but menacing. His black hair in a ponytail hanging over his dark suit which covered a muscular yet slim body. She had a table reserved for one and they didn't speak. As she sat down a waiter arrived with a large glass of something exotic which he placed on a gold coaster then left immediately without making eye contact.

  Uninterrupted by the small crowd of invited guests in the room, she slowly sipped her cool, refreshing glass of rum which had the undeniable taste and smell of fresh mint and lime. The others were all too interested in their own groups to take any notice of the single lady with the Mojito.

  As the night drew to a close and the guests and patrons were leaving the club, the doorman returned. He handed her a brown padded envelope. Looking inside she saw a DVD in a plastic covering.

  "Todas?” she asked (is that everything).

  “Si” he replied, nodding, then walked away.

  The CCTV recording from the club was the only record of her having met the now dead man and it had to be destroyed.

  A few hours later the hotel room was stripped bare and thoroughly cleaned, the toiletries removed and replaced by the unknowing cleaner.

  ◆◆◆

  About the same time that morning, she walked into a shop in the back street of Porlamar and paid cash for a cheap, new mobile phone and sim card. She looked like any of the locals, tanned, slim but curvy with dark hair, and wearing a tight light blue T shirt and jeans.

  She walked towards the marina and sat on a white plastic seat outside a cafe on Calle Marina which was overlooking the harbour. Keeping her distance from the other customers, she inserted the sim card into the phone and disposed of the packaging in a street bin on an adjacent lamp post.

  “Café con leche” was enough to get rid of the waiter. She entered a number.

  “Si”

  “Completa” she said (complete)

  “El sabia?” (he knew)

  “Si”

  “Bien” (good)

  “Siguiente” (next)

  “Si”

  The call was ended. She sat and watched as a large blue speed boat with an open deck was leaving the harbour. Two men were visible on the deck as the boat was guided through a group of small open fishing boats and headed out to sea. Her coffee arrived, complete with a wrapped biscuit and a sachet of sugar.

  The Caribbean was flat calm, like a mirror, the sunlight bouncing to the horizon. When the boat reached the safety buoys, it turned away from the fishermen and headed out to the deeper sea before accelerating, leaving a white trail in its wake as it disappeared towards the horizon. She finished her coffee, leaving the biscuit and sugar and walked off into the town centre. As she walked, she removed the sim from the mobile phone and disposed of it in a large waste bin that was overflowing with cardboard, the phone was then placed under the wheel of a bus at a temporary stop and she waited until it departed to ensure the phone was destroyed, before picking up the pieces and dropping them into a drain. She stopped a local taxi “Aeropuerto”.

  On her journey to the airport she knew her life had changed forever.

  ◆◆◆

  After a twenty-minute journey across the Caribbean, the boat engine was put into neutral and gently rolled on the flat sea. Two men were at the controls of the boat, both were in T shirts and dark thigh length swim shorts. They studied the horizon and there was nothing visible that caused concern either to the eye or with technology. A sun shade was erected over the back deck of the boat for further protection. They went below deck and dragged up the lifeless black body bag into a position next to an opening just above the deck which was usually used for bringing large Marlin and Tuna on board. Having tightly wrapped a heavy steel cable around the bag, a concrete sun shade base was placed on what would have been the chest of Filipe and the cable passed through the securing steel handles. One more check towards the horizon and still nothing to be seen, they pushed the bag and weight towards the opening, the legs hanging over the sea, one more push, “Adios gringo”. There was a big splash from the concrete weight and both watched as the bag and weight sank rapidly into the depths of the clear sea.

  Both men sat under the shade for another hour drinking Polar ice-cold beer. There was no other sea traffic in the area and what went down to the bottom of the sea had stayed there. After taking down the shade, one of the men started the engine and they slowly returned to the harbour.

  ◆◆◆

  It was now 13:16 as she looked out of the window of her room at the Hilton Hotel. It was on the tenth floor and overlooked the mountains in the distance that surrounded Caracas. She'd made time for a bath, requested room service and was sat at the desk in front of the mirror when she took Filipe’s phone from her bag and attached a power lead to it. After a few seconds it jumped into life revealing several emails, texts and WhatsApp messages. She started with the photos, Filipe was always with Josh, in Mexico, on the beach, in Panama, on a boat in the canal. Then WhatsApp messages, another photo of Josh, he was standing with a beautiful smiling girl with shoulder length blonde hair in what appeared to be an airport terminal. The message read, “Good company on flight!”

  She replied to Josh, “Looks good. Wher'e you staying.”

  She found the contact for Mother, which was again on WhatsApp and attached the video recording. There was nothing which showed her face, no distinguishing marks, only a woman, the Latino’s all look the same.
The vicious murder of a loved son. It was what she was told to do, what she had to do.

  A few moments later and thousands of miles away in a large detached house on the outskirts of Newcastle upon Tyne a mobile phone activated. In the spacious living room, Angelina Lopez was watching television when she received a video recording from her son on WhatsApp. “Having fun.” She shouted for her husband “Manuel, nos ha enviado un video.” (he has sent a video).

  Filipe was on a career break travelling the Americas. He wanted to visit the land of his family, to explore the wildlife and beauty of Central and South America and to learn more of the history and culture.

  She was so happy and excited that he'd eventually got in touch. Manuel immediately stopped making the coffee and walked into the large airy room to sit beside his wife on the brown leather four-seater sofa to view the video together.

  Angelina started the recording. It was't what they expected, Filipe was having sex with a young woman. Angelina looked shocked her mouth opened. Manuel grabbed the recording, “What the fuck?”

  He walked away and continued watching with a wry smile and nodding “um, si, si, whoa, no no no, no mi hijo, mi hijo, no no!” He fell to the floor. Angelina ran to her husband and they both sat crying on the tiled kitchen floor.

  “MI HIJO” (my son) he shouted again and again “Por Que” (why?)

  The video had been edited. There were no other messages.

  Chapter 2

  Tuesday 17th May

  Steve Bond was a seasoned officer, now in his mid-thirties at the rank of Sergeant. He'd passed the examinations necessary to get to this stage in his career and although it had been thought the promotion board would have been a walk in the park for an officer of his experience, he was resisting the many requests to go further up the ladder.