Read Dead on Demand (A DCI Morton Crime Novel) for Free Online

fide prospective citizen, so it was only natural to take some time to explore Vancouver. He'd booked a week in Canada, and he was in no rush to get back to London and his drab new apartment. There was no work to return to, and it looked like his choice to take a few days' break would provide the perfect alibi.
    While Edwin was not much of a sports fan, a friend had recommended checking out the BC Sports Hall of Fame and its attached museum. Hockey is a national pastime in Canada, and if Edwin were to become a Canadian he would certainly need to know some background on the sport, even if he didn't fancy actually playing it. It was too violent for Edwin really; he had experienced his share of violence as a tight head prop on the school rugby team back at Harrow.
    Edwin gladly paid the cover charge, and even picked up a gaudy souvenir t-shirt. He was every bit the tourist, studiously reading every plaque and memorising the names on various medals and trophies on display. He wasn't really interested but his years at The Impartial had imparted in him a thirst for knowledge, and the sports records allowed him to quench that thirst. Satiated, he moved on to the exhibits he was really fascinated by. One chronicled the life of Terry Fox, a cancer sufferer who ran cross-country across Canada, traversing 3,339 miles in just 143 days. The exhibit was aptly named the Marathon of Hope. If Edwin had still been an editor he would have loved to see such a great human-interest piece cross his desk.
    Still, Terry Fox's story was not the most inspirational. That honour fell to a Paralympian who trekked 40,000 km through thirty-four countries on four continents in a wheelchair to raise awareness of spinal cord injuries. It was at BC Place Stadium that Rick Hansen made his triumphant return to Vancouver, cheered by the crowds in the packed stadium.
    Feeling newly invigorated, Edwin left the Sports museum in search of lunch.
    ***
    The syringe was ready. Vanhi had primed it with cocaine mixed with ethanol and put in a new hypodermic needle. Once injected, the coke would take around fifteen seconds to begin to take effect.
    Eleanor's running route took her through Battersea Park on a circuitous route around the boating lake and then back across the Thames to Belgravia. The park was perfect. It was large, with plenty of places to hide. Getting away unseen would be easy.
    Vanhi could simply stab Eleanor, then go. She didn't even need to wait for her to die. The cocaine would induce respiratory and cardiac arrest. As long as no medical treatment was administered within a few minutes, Eleanor would die and it would be almost impossible to trace. Vanhi knew that all she had to do was remove Eleanor's keys, the only personal possessions she took with her when she went for her daily run, and the police would find it difficult to identify the body.
    Vanhi had to avoid the CCTV in the area. In the west the superintendent's office would provide some coverage, while at the east end of the park the Pump House and the park toilets were both monitored. Fortunately Eleanor was not prone to sticking to the busy pedestrian paths, preferring the freedom of a cross-country run. Her return loop would take her past Fountain Lake in the north-west of the park. Vanhi would pretend to sit and enjoy the view while doing her make-up. In reality she would be using the mirror in her make-up case to watch what was going on behind her as well as monitoring everything in front of her. Vanhi had a week to carry out the hit, so she would sit on the same bench each morning waiting for Eleanor to jog past, and only carry out the hit if the coast was clear. If anyone was nearby and likely to render medical assistance, or worse, see what happened, she would abort and wait for the next day to try again.
    ***
    It had been a fantastic break. Edwin had imbibed the culture of Vancouver, playing tourist as well as enjoying the hotel's pool facilities. He could see himself living in Vancouver