"Fast-paced and an intriguing twister"
by a South African Criminal law expert.
"A legal mystery with a touch of psychology"
"An adult crime mystery"
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Ken Klopper online
A BRUTAL MURDER. A VICIOUS KILLER. AN EXPERIENCED JUDGE. A MORAL DILEMMA.
Judges are there to judge or so they say. They listen to the evidence, evaluate it, apply the law and logical reasoning, and deliver a judgment or verdict. But Judges are also human beings with personalities, personal lives, and weaknesses.
Enter the world of Judge William L Ment, a dashing, witty and controversial judge with an eye and nose for beautiful women. Ment has all the skills and knowledge of a brilliant judge, but he also possesses strong intuitive faculties and his own special brand of logic. When a brutal murder takes place and Ment is the trial judge, this cognitive faculty takes over, and Ment finds himself on the trail of a serial killer. How and where will he solve the problem?
"Fast-paced and an intriguing twister" by a South African Criminal law expert."
"A legal mystery with a touch of psychology and wit"
"An adult crime mystery novel."
BASED ON SOME OF THE AUTHOR'S COURTROOM EXPERIENCES.
The first book in the JUDGE MENT SERIES.
ALSO READ THE SECOND BOOK IN THE SERIES "A QUESTION of REVENGE" by KEN KLOPPER available on AMAZON
for Kindle and in paperback.
Catherine Reece turned the key in the front door of her house and reached for the light switch in the small hallway that led to the lounge area.
She pressed the switch several times, but it remained dark.
“Damn, the globe’s fused again.”
She continued to curse as she fumbled her way through familiar surroundings, and reached a lamp on a side-table in the lounge. She flicked the switch.
The light illuminated the corner of the room casting eerie shadows on the walls and down towards the narrow passage that led to the bathroom, kitchen, and two bedrooms. It was the first time she had used the lamp, made from a large seashell. It was an interesting ornament but not a very effective lamp.
She switched on the main light.
The room lit up revealing modest furnishings: a worn out suede lounge suite with bright floral cushions, a pair of oak side-tables, and a stand with a medium sized television set on top of it.
“That’s better,” she said, speaking to herself, a trait she had acquired from living alone for so long.
The thirty-one year old, legal secretary felt tired and her feet hurt.
She tossed her imitation leather handbag onto a side-table and kicked off the uncomfortable shoes with the heels that made her look even taller than she already was.
Sitting down on the couch with her legs folded under her, she took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts.
It had been a long week at the office. Her boss had been demanding, and there had been an unusually high incidence of office politics to contend with.
Catherine pushed her fingers through her long, natural, blonde locks that the wind had left in disarray, blonde strands usually in place cascading down both sides of her pretty face and falling down over her soft green eyes.
The weather was changing rapidly outside and there was a forecast of rain.
Her shapely, white thighs were exposed as her skirt was pushed up. She noticed that she needed both a wax and a tan. The former was a possibility, but the latter had to wait until the winter had decided to take a break.
A soothing, hot bath with scented candles, soft music, and some wine is what was needed, she thought.
This girl needs some pampering.
Jonathan, her boyfriend would not be visiting tonight. She was alone, and needed some private time after the long week.
It was an opportunity for “girls’ night” but with only a single girl.
She fumbled in her handbag for a cigarette and then remembered that she had quit three weeks ago. She always forgot when she was under strain often reaching for what she believed was some relief from the pressure, although it never really was.
Not the time to start smoking again. Rather some music, that bath, and perhaps a quick supper and a good movie.
She enjoyed being alone at times. Jonathan could be so demanding and sometimes very critical of everything she did.
Catherine walked towards the kitchen with renewed energy, her feet sliding on the smooth, tiled floor.
She carefully stepped over a wet, slippery patch near the sink.
The kitchen was small and narrow but it suited her needs. She wasn’t particularly fond of cooking and spent more time preparing copious amounts of coffee than preparing food. A caffeine addict is what they called her at work; at least ten cups a day, of the good stuff mind you, not that instant crap.
This place still has a musty smell, she thought, as she turned the dial on a compact silver-coloured mini hi-fi standing on the kitchen counter.
She opened the small window that overlooked a tiny backyard to let some fresh night air into the musty surroundings.
The kitchen was filled with the lively sounds of a popular song streaming from the radio.
Ah, it’s that guy with the strange name, Meatball. Great singer, she thought, as she danced towards the bathroom. With little culinary experience, Catherine could never distinguish the difference between meatballs and meatloaf.
Her knowledge of popular music, despite the satisfaction she got from listening to it was also very limited and often suspect.
She opened the hot water tap and watched as the water gushed into the simple, porcelain bath, with an irritating screeching sound coming from the tap as it released its pressure. The hot water splashed onto the cold surface as the steam rose, and started to fill the small bathroom.
Catherine carefully lit ten small scented candles and placed them carefully around the rim of the bath. The fragrance from the candles fused with the hot steam soon making the room smell like an exotic flower market.
She closed her eyes as she savoured the moment of tranquillity, the fragrances filling her nasal passages, helping to create a vision of a distant tropical island with a natural hot spring. Like something in The Blue Lagoon without a young stud nearby. Tough luck.
In the background, she could hear the sound of a romantic ballad coming from the kitchen.
With simple techniques, she had created her own little fantasy world.
The light from the candles created shadowy, little dancing figures on the bathroom walls, swaying gently to the music playing in the background as it travelled through the steamy interior of the bathroom.
“Bath oil-check, clean towel-check, and candles-check. Wine...silly girl-wine required.”
She moved quickly to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, and removed a half-full bottle of local white wine.
She grabbed a glass from a nearby cupboard and filled it, took a sip, spilling some of the wine from the full glass.
Returning hastily to the bathroom, she placed the bottle and glass on the rim of the bath between two candles.
She stood for a moment making sure she had not forgotten anything, and was satisfied that everything was in place.
It was off to the bedroom for the final task.
Catherine undressed slowly, observing her shapely physique in the full-length mirror on the door of the built-in cupboard. All the curves appeared in the right place, her long, blonde hair cascading down onto shapely shoulders. Black, lace underwear accentuating her fine lines.
Unstrapping her bra and kicking off her lace panties, she took a final look as she stood exposed in front of the mirror.
She tied her blonde locks into a bun as she moved towards the passage leading to the bathroom.