Code to murder, p.1

CODE TO MURDER, page 1

 

CODE TO MURDER
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CODE TO MURDER


  Pat McTaggart

  CODE TO MURDER

  First published by Letham House Publishing Ltd 2026

  Copyright © 2026 by Pat McTaggart

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Pat McTaggart asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks, and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  In memory of my mum, who gave me my love of reading, and my dad, who gave me the logic and skills to work things out.

  Contents

  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

  CHAPTER 15

  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

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  CHAPTER 58

  CHAPTER 59

  CHAPTER 60

  CHAPTER 61

  CHAPTER 62

  CHAPTER 63

  CHAPTER 64

  CHAPTER 65

  CHAPTER 66

  CHAPTER 67

  CHAPTER 68

  CHAPTER 69

  CHAPTER 70

  CHAPTER 71

  CHAPTER 72

  CHAPTER 73

  CHAPTER 74

  CHAPTER 75

  CHAPTER 76

  CHAPTER 77

  CHAPTER 78

  CHAPTER 79

  CHAPTER 80

  CHAPTER 81

  CHAPTER 82

  CHAPTER 83

  CHAPTER 84

  CHAPTER 85

  CHAPTER 86

  CHAPTER 87

  CHAPTER 88

  CHAPTER 89

  CHAPTER 90

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  Also by Pat McTaggart

  CHAPTER 1

  As Amy came out of the service lift, and made her way through the staff door leading to the guest hallway, she heard an unusual noise. It sounded like a ball being thrown against a wall. She turned left to go past the stairs, with the intention of heading along the corridor towards room 202, when—

  Thud.

  Amy felt herself fall backwards and saw the dinner tray she’d been carrying float weightlessly in front of her, just like in the pictures you see of astronauts in space. She had the sense she was freefalling in slow motion, even though it was happening in a fraction of a second.

  Bouncing down the stairs towards the landing between the first and second floor, she caught a glimpse of a man running past her, before her head cracked violently against the floral-wallpapered stone wall and she came to an abrupt halt on the landing.

  Then darkness. Silence.

  The man stopped momentarily, glancing over at her motionless body.

  He wondered. Is she dead?

  Without checking, he turned and bounded back up the stairs.

  CHAPTER 2

  It was after seven p.m. when Ben Fitzpatrick and his wife Clare arrived home. Ben was Detective Chief Inspector in the Major Investigation Team located in Forth Valley Police, a division within Police Scotland. He and his wife had just spent a week together in the seaside town of Troon, Ayrshire, on the west coast of Scotland. It had been good to get away – especially given recent events at work. Unfortunately, though he had tried to cast the situation out of his mind, he had been unable to forget, largely given the fact that his issues at work were still very much unresolved and on the horizon. Despite the sunny weather of the last week, he had felt a constant cloud hanging over him.

  Ben and Clare sat down to have a much-needed cup of tea when Ben’s phone rang.

  “Not already,” said Clare.

  It was his detective sergeant, Julie Taylor.

  “Sorry, sir, I know you’re not due back until tomorrow, but I thought you might prefer to know now that we have a suspicious death up at The Heartlands Hotel just past Stirling. I know you like to view the crime scene as early as possible, and I’m on site there now.”

  “Okay, Julie, no problem. I’ll see you in about half an hour.”

  Clare sighed and gave Ben a knowing look. Julie was a competent DS and didn’t really need Ben there. Was it any wonder he’d not been himself lately and had struggled to switch off, even on holiday? Clare didn’t say anything, but Ben understood what the look meant.

  “Remember what we discussed on the way home: phone the doctor and make an appointment to see him this week. They’re open late today, so you’ll still be able to phone.”

  “Okay,” replied Ben.

  “Don’t forget,” Clare said, to emphasise the point.

  “I won’t,” said Ben as he headed out the door to his car.

  Clare was worried about her husband. Now in his mid-fifties with nearly thirty years’ service in the police force, he still found it difficult to detach himself emotionally from his cases. However, she couldn’t help but feel something had changed lately; that there was something happening beyond his devotion to his job.

  He wasn’t himself.

  She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she knew something wasn’t right.

  CHAPTER 3

  Driving over to Stirling, Ben was secretly glad Julie had phoned. It was good to have a break, but he would be glad to be back in amongst things again. Over the years, he’d found that was the best way to handle matters when another case was troubling him – get the grey cells working again. At the same time, he had to admit he had not exactly been in fine fettle of late: far more tired than usual and a bit off with people, grumpy even, which wasn’t like him at all. It was probably a combination of working too many hours and the unresolved previous case getting to him – and maybe needing to cut down on those fry-ups. He would phone the doctor when he got a chance, if nothing else but to stop Clare worrying.

  Ben’s mind switched to the job in hand. Julie knew him well. He did like to be involved at the start of a case; he felt there was real value in surveying the crime scene himself as early as possible. He prided himself on having a different way of looking at things and often spotted clues that others may have missed. He also believed it gave him a better feel for what had happened, more so than reading the case notes later.

  Julie was a good DS. Ben had known her for many years, even before she had joined the police. He had trained with Julie’s father, Tim, who was a police sergeant, and they had been close friends. Sadly, Tim had passed away from a heart attack at a fairly young age and Ben had tried to keep a watchful eye over Julie ever since, mentoring her as she progressed steadily through her police career.

  Ben soon arrived at the entrance to the grounds of The Heartlands Hotel. It had a long drive, and he saw the hotel sitting majestically at the top of the hill. The hotel dated back to Victorian times, having originally been a spa resort, and it certainly reflected the grand architecture of that time. As he drove up, Ben saw the hotel’s clock tower standing tall in the centre of the building. He had been in the hotel before, but never on police business. It was only a few miles from Stirling, with its historic castle, where most of the buildings dated back to the fifteenth century. Even as he parked up he could see The Wallace Monument standing tall in the skyline. Stirling itself, sitting at the heart of Scotland, was only around thirty miles away from both Edinburgh, the capital city of Scotland, and Glasgow, Scotland’s largest city. Ben knew it was a great location for both tourists and business people.

  He couldn’t help but wonder which of the two were currently being examined by a team of forensics officers and detectives.

  Ben reached the top of the drive and parked his Toyota Corolla hybrid around the back of the hotel, away from the building work he noticed was being carried out at the side. He quickly got out of the car and marched towards the entrance, glancing up at the clocktower as he passed. Then he remembered his promise to his wife.

  I’d better phone the doctor now – who knows how long I’ll be in there.

  But eagerness to get started, to find out what was awaiting him inside, took over and his thoughts quickly changed.

  I’ll leave it till tomorrow.

  Julie met Ben as he reached the top of the rather grand flight of stairs into the hotel.

  “So what have we got, Julie?” asked Ben, getting right into things.

  “We have a suspicious death: a man in his late thirties or early forties, found dead on the floor of his hotel room – room 202 – with a deep gash on his forehead. The room door was left open. Now, it is possible that he fell and hit his head on the desk. The strap of his laptop bag was tangled around his legs so he could have tripped over it. However, my gut tells me it all looks too neat. Forensics are up there now.”

  “Who found the body?” asked Ben.

  “A five-year-old girl, would you believe? She was playing with her tennis ball in the corridor and it bounced away from her into the open door of the room. She went in to get it, saw the man and screamed. Her father came running from his room, saw the body and called reception.”

  “Poor wee girl, what a terrible sight for her to see,” said Ben. “Any connection between the man and girl and the victim?”

  “None at all, sir. I interviewed them myself.”

  “Okay,” said Ben, nodding.

  “It’s also worth noting that not long before the body was found, the hotel security manager had already phoned us after stopping and detaining a man carrying a bag full of items that look like they were stolen from guest rooms.”

  “Really? Well, that’s a bit of a coincidence!” said Ben. “Is he in custody?” he asked, wondering if they had already apprehended the killer.

  “He is sir, yes. But there is one more thing I should tell you.”

  Ben looked expectantly at Julie.

  “Around about the same time, a hotel waitress, Amy Robbins, was found unconscious on the landing between the first and second floor. From what we understand, she had been on her way to deliver room service to the very gentleman whose body we found in room 202. She’s been taken to hospital, still unconscious, and according to the paramedics is in a very bad way.”

  “Any idea what might have happened to her?”

  “Well, the tray and some of the dinner are lying between the second floor and the landing below, so it looks like she either fell down the stairs or was pushed.”

  “Possibly by the man the security manager caught stealing from guest rooms,” suggested Ben.

  “That’s the strange thing, sir, it couldn’t have been him. The security manager actually saw Amy heading to the lift just as he detained the thief heading towards the exit.”

  “Hmm,” said Ben, surprised.

  “Is there anything obvious missing from the room?” he asked.

  “No sign of a laptop or phone, sir, although the victim’s wallet is still in his jacket pocket, which is round the chair in front of the desk.”

  “So you’re thinking the thief may have been disturbed and some sort of struggle ensued? Still doesn’t explain what happened to the waitress, though. Unless she’d found the body first and was running downstairs to tell someone?”

  “We don’t know at this stage,” said Julie, before continuing, “I should tell you as well that the security manager is ex-police – and keeps reminding us of it.”

  “Oh aye,” replied Ben, raising his eyebrows, knowing that could be good or bad – and by the sound of things was the latter.

  As they walked at pace up the stairs, they stopped at the landing where Amy was found. Ben noticed blood on the corner of the wall, presumably where Amy had cracked her head, and the spaghetti bolognese splattered all over the plush green carpet on the stairs between the first and second floor landings.

  “No sign of any loose carpet or anything she could have tripped over,” said Ben, “and looking at where the tray, plates and dinner have landed it looks to me she might have gone down the stairs backwards, dropping the tray as she went. I’d guess she was pushed or nudged as opposed to her tripping. Make sure we get the clothes Amy was wearing from the hospital so we can do forensics checks, Julie.”

  As they approached room 202, Ben asked, “Who is our victim?”

  “His name is James Anderson. He’s the chief technology officer of a software company called Trade-IT, based at the business park next to the University of Stirling. Apparently, he was here with his management team for an offsite meeting. They arrived this morning and were staying overnight tonight. Their chief executive is downstairs.”

  They arrived at the room and Ben surveyed the scene. He looked carefully at the layout of the room. As he walked in the door, past the toilet and shower room on the left and wardrobe space on the right, he was facing the side of the desk which was positioned in front of a window.

  The victim was lying on the floor near the desk as if he had started walking towards the door and had tripped. The man’s legs were tangled in the strap of his bag. His suit jacket was hanging on the chair in front of the desk. Looking straight ahead to the far side of the room directly opposite, Ben could see a curtain with what looked like a door behind it, which presumably was to an adjoining room. Along the left hand wall, he saw a double bed with a small table and two padded chairs, one on either side.

  The victim had blood on his forehead and there was blood on the corner of the desk too. The desk was facing the window and there was nothing between the side of the desk and the bedroom door other than a desk clock on the floor with its glass face smashed and the time showing 17.45; and, somewhat strangely, a metal backplate with two screws lying just inside the door.

  Ben tried to visualise what might have happened, his hands and fingers waving and pointing in different directions as he ran through the scenarios in his mind. If it was an accident, suggesting Mr Anderson had simply tripped over his bag and hit his head on the corner of the desk before falling to the floor and rolling over on his back, there was something odd about the position he had landed in. He put this to the senior forensic scientist, Joan Scott.

  “Could this really have been an accident, Joan?” the tone of his voice indicating he had his doubts.

  “It could be,” replied Joan, adding, “but almost certainly is not.”

  She was never one to fully commit prior to finishing her checks and the body being examined by a forensic pathologist. It’s what made her so good at her job.

  “Okay, I can see why it could be, but what are the reasons it probably isn’t?” asked Ben, quickly adding, “based on your examinations at this stage.”

  Joan replied, “Well, there is some bruising on the back of the victim’s neck, which would suggest some kind of struggle, and I won’t know whether it was the blow to the forehead that killed him or something else until we have a thorough examination of the body. If he fell against the desk, I’m not sure the force of the fall would have been enough to kill him. That said, a single blow in a particular spot with less force can sometimes be enough. I would also add that the positioning of the body on the floor looks a bit odd, almost as if it has been set up – badly.”

  Ben nodded in agreement, it was just as he thought.

  “What about time of death, Joan?” asked Julie.

  “It will take a bit more testing to confirm. The time on the clock, which looks like it may have been knocked off the desk during the incident, may be a good indicator; best guess is probably between three p.m. and six p.m.”

  Ben asked, “Where is the victim’s room key card?”

  “In his jacket pocket,” answered Julie.

  “In that case, since his jacket is on the chair, I don’t see why the victim would have been going out. He also couldn’t have been going to answer the door to someone, having fallen before reaching it – as the door was open when he was found,” suggested Ben.

  “Good point,” said Joan.

  “Boy it’s warm in here,” said Ben, looking over at the radiator and opening his top button and loosening his tie. The radiator was turned up to the warmest setting. He noticed what looked like a business card wedged behind it. He lifted it off with a glove. It read ‘Keith Wesley Executive Recruitment’ with an address in Glasgow. Ben took a photo of the details and passed the card to the forensics team to bag.

 

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