Book Trends, a review site for young adult's and children's books, published several new book reviews this past week. We're presenting here a summary of those in the mystery/suspense/thriller category.
Strike Three You're Dead by Josh Berk. A Lenny & the Mikes Mystery (1st in series). Lexile measure: N/A. Reviewed by a 6th grade student, who writes, "I liked this book for two reasons: I love baseball, and Strike Three You're Dead has a great crime investigation, and it has a lot of suspense. The book is really interesting, and it has a lot of details." (Read the full review of this middle grade mystery, here.)
For more reviews of children and young adult books of all genres, visit Book Trends; their reviews will amaze you! You can also follow Book Trends on Twitter.
Saturday, June 08, 2013
Reviews of Mystery and Suspense Books for Kids, New This Week on Book Trends (130608)
A Conversation with Mystery Author Reba White Williams
with Reba White Williams
We are delighted to welcome mystery author Reba White Williams to Omnimystery News today.
Reba's new art world mystery is Restrike (Delos, May 2013 trade paperback, ebook, and audiobook formats), which introduces cousins — and amateur sleuths — Coleman and Dinah Greene.
We recently had the opportunity to talk to Reba about her book.
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Omnimystery News: Into what subgenre of "mystery" does Restrike fall?
Photo provided courtesy of
Reba White Williams
Reba White Williams: It is a cozy, which is what I like to read myself. My two protagonists — Coleman and Dinah Green, and a pet dog — have been carefully modeled as characters; I also wrote a prequel with them as children. I expect to age them gradually in the series, and their character and personalities will change, but only a little.
OMN: Say something about the book that isn't mentioned in the synopsis.
RWW: Dolly, the Maltese terrier, doesn't get mentioned, but she has a role throughout the series.
OMN: You have extensive knowledge of the art world. Did you include any of your personal experience in the book?
RWW: There's a lot of me in the book. Like my lead characters, I grew up in small-town North Carolina, graduated from Duke, and came to New York to seek my fortune. I've spent my adult life in the worlds of art and business, in New York, just like the Greene cousins.
OMN: Tell us about your writing process.
RWW: I have created biographies of my lead characters, beginning with a book about their childhood I wrote and privately published, titled Angels. I do not write a synopsis, but I've got the plot pretty much in mind, adding color and characters as I go along.
OMN: Did any of your plot points require outside research?
RWW: I rely mainly on firsthand knowledge and my experience. But as an example, I went to a detective equipment store to examine devices used for bugging phones, because I wanted to make sure my explanation in Restrike was accurate.
OMN: The cousins are shown (with Dolly) in a framed portrait on the cover. Did you model them after real people?
RWW: I have a very clear idea of what my characters look like, and they are fairly well described in the book. I worked extensively with the cover artist, and he did a good job of creating Coleman and Dinah. Coleman is pretty close to a British TV actress, who shall remain nameless for now.
OMN: The book is set in New York City, a place with which you are very familiar. Did you have to change anything for the book?
RWW: My settings are as true-to-life as I can make them. They're based on where I've lived and worked, restaurants where I've eaten, theatres where I've been, hotels and vacation spots I know well.
OMN: What do you like to read or watch for fun?
RWW: I read a great deal, mysteries and popular fiction. I also read the New York Times and Wall Street Journal and Country Life. I'm a gardener and a traveler (including to see gardens). I like to entertain, mainly dinner parties in my home. All of these experiences and observations get into my books.
My all-time favorite movie (and book) is To Kill a Mockingbird. Second place is Mrs. Minniver. I like the WWII and 1940s period. I'm a great fan of BBC drama, such as the Lord Peter Wimsey series and Upstairs, Downstairs. I liked all the Harry Potter movies and books. I didn't line up the night before to purchase the Harry Potter books, but I was there the next day.
OMN: What kinds of questions do you like to get from readers? Are there any you particularly enjoy hearing … and maybe some you don't?
RWW: The question I've learned to hate is "Why do you collect prints?" Been asked too many times. I like to talk about my characters.
OMN: Create a Top 5 list for us on any subject.
RWW: Top five places to visit, and see flowers:
• England, in February for snowdrops, spring for bluebells;
• Wales, for the laburnum arch at Bodnant Gardens;
• Central Texas, for the bluebonnets;
• Southern France, in the summer for the fields of sunflowers and lavender; and
• Jersey (Channel Islands) for wildflowers.
OMN: What's next for you?
RWW: Restrike is the first of a series featuring cousins Coleman and Dinah Greene. The second, Fatal Impressions, will be published next March. I'm working on the third and fourth, and have a setting in mind for number five. I have years and years of ideas.
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Reba White Williams has written articles for American Artist, Art and Auction, Print Quarterly and Journal of the Print World. She served on the Print Committees of The Boston Museum of Fine Arts, The Museum of Modern Art, The Metropolitan Museum and The Whitney Museum. She was a member of the Editorial Board of Print Quarterly, and is an Honorary Keeper of American Prints at the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge University. She earned her MBA from Harvard, MA in Art History from Hunter, PhD in Art History from the Graduate Center, CUNY, and MA in Fiction Writing from Antioch University.
Williams has served as President of the New York City Art Commission and Vice Chairman of the New York State Council on the Arts. In 2009, most of her and her husband's collection — about 5,000 prints — was donated to the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.
She and her husband founded the annual Willie Morris Award for best Southern fiction, now in its sixth year. With her husband and their dog Muffin, who is fictionalized in her books, Williams divides her time between New York, Connecticut and Palm Springs.
To learn more about the author and her work, please visit her website at RebaWhiteWilliams.com.
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Restrike
Reba White Williams
A Coleman and Dinah Greene Mystery (1st in series)
Money and murder in the New York City art world, where sleuth Coleman Greene owns ArtSmart magazine and her cousin Dinah manages a Greenwich Village print gallery. Together they show the NYPD how to solve a crime and the swells of Manhattan that in spite of being polite southern women, they mean business.
The Far Time Incident by Neve Maslakovic is Today's Kindle Fantasy Daily Deal
MystereBooks is pleased to feature The Far Time Incident by Neve Maslakovic as today's Amazon Kindle Fantasy Daily Deal.
The deal price of $1.99 is valid only for today, Saturday, June 08, 2013.
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The Far Time Incident
Neve Maslakovic
A Time-Travel Murder Mystery
47North
When a professor's time-travel lab is the scene of a deadly accident, the academic world and the future of St. Sunniva University get thrown into upheaval. As assistant to the dean of science, Julia Olsen is assigned to help Campus Security Chief Nate Kirkland examine this rare mishap … then make it quietly go away!
But when the investigation points toward murder, Julia and Chief Kirkland find themselves caught in a deadly cover-up, one that strands them in ancient Pompeii on the eve of the eruption of the world's most infamous volcano. With the help of their companions — a Shakespearean scholar and two grad students — Julia and the chief must outwit history itself and expose the school's saboteur before it's too late.
Important Note: This book was listed at the price mentioned above on the date and time of this post. Prices can and do change without prior notice. Please confirm the price of the book before completing your purchase.
A Little Death in Dixie by Lisa Turner is Today's Kindle Daily Deal
MystereBooks is pleased to feature A Little Death in Dixie by Lisa Turner as today's Amazon Kindle Daily Deal.
The deal price of $1.99 is valid only for today, Saturday, June 08, 2013.
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A Little Death in Dixie
Lisa Turner
A Billy Able Mystery
Bell Bridge Books
The Blues were born out of need, anger and pride. Murder comes from those same dark places. Memphis has both. One of Memphis' most seductive and notorious socialites has vanished. Either she's off on another drunken escapade or the disappearance is something much more frightening. What begins as an ordinary day's work for Detective Billy Able quickly grows into a complex spider's web of tragedy, mystery, suspicion, and sordid secrets including a few of Billy's own. With the help of Mercy Snow, the estranged sister of the missing socialite, Billy follows a twisted trail of human frailty and corruption to disturbing truths that undermine everything he thought he knew about himself and the people he loves.
Read our review of A Little Death in Dixie by Lisa Turner.
Important Note: This book was listed at the price mentioned above on the date and time of this post. Prices can and do change without prior notice. Please confirm the price of the book before completing your purchase.
Today's Mystery and Suspense Update from Big Fish Games (130608)
Here is today's mystery and suspense update from Big Fish Games …
• The New Release is Portal of Evil: Stolen Runes.
• The Daily Deal is Secrets of the Dark: Eclipse Mountain, just $2.99 today only!
• The current Catch of the Week is City of Fools, just $2.99 through Sunday, June 09, 2013 only.
• Today's Special Deal — This weekend only, all Collector's Editions are $8.99 each! Use coupon code COLLECTOR at check-out to save 55% off the retail price. Offer ends June 9th, 2013 at 11:59 PM PT.
Visit the Omnimystery Entertainment Network for more games of mystery and suspense!
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Today's New Release is Portal of Evil: Stolen Runes
The gates to another world will open soon! You can stop the impending disaster — if you track down the stolen runes! Vanessa is the only heiress of Abraham Van Helsinga, a member of the secret order of light guarding world peace. And now she has to find the stolen runes that were sealed inside the gate, behind which lurks an ancient evil.
A sample version is available to download and play for free for one hour.
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Today's Daily Deal is Secrets of the Dark: Eclipse Mountain
Save your friend from the Demon of Darkness! Follow clues left by stone monks in a deserted town in Thailand to uncover a thrilling mystery. Battle the dark and magical werecreatures that want to sacrifice your friend in this macabre hidden object puzzle adventure game!
A sample version is available to download and play for free for one hour. You can purchase this game today only — Saturday, June 08, 2013 — for $2.99.
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The current Catch of the Week is City of Fools
Play as a newspaper journalist and investigate the small town of Tundel where a UFO is rumored to have landed. The local mayor seems to be trying to cover up the event and it's your job to track him down and learn the truth. The way to the mayor will challenge your courage, selflessness and wit. Overcome all the incredible obstacles, find the mayor and become a hero in this charming adventure game!
A sample version is available to download and play for free for one hour. You can purchase this game at the special price of $2.99 through Sunday, June 09, 2013.
Friday, June 07, 2013
MystereBooks: The Chalice by Nancy Bilyeau, Available this Month at a Special Price
Every month Amazon releases a new selection of Kindle books priced $3.99 or less.
Today's featured title from the Mystery & Thrillers category is The Chalice by Nancy Bilyeau. This Kindle book was listed at $2.99 as of the date and time of this post, Friday, June 07, 2013 at 1:30 PM ET, and should be available at this price through the end of the month.
More information about the book is below; if other vendors have priced-matched this title, links to their sites are also shown.
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The Chalice by Nancy Bilyeau
A Historical Suspense Thriller
Publisher: Touchstone
In the midst of England's Reformation, a young novice will risk everything to defy the most powerful men of her era.
In 1538, England's bloody power struggle between crown and cross threatens to tear the country apart. Novice Joanna Stafford has tasted the wrath of the royal court, discovered what lies within the king's torture rooms, and escaped death at the hands of those desperate to possess the power of an ancient relic.
Even with all she has experienced, the quiet life is not for Joanna. Despite the possibilities of arrest and imprisonment, she becomes caught up in a shadowy international plot targeting Henry VIII himself. As the power plays turn vicious, Joanna realizes her role is more critical than she'd ever imagined. She must choose between those she loves most and assuming her part in a prophecy foretold by three seers. Repelled by violence, Joanna seizes a future with a man who loves her. But no matter how hard she tries, she cannot escape the spreading darkness of her destiny.
To learn the final, sinister piece of the prophecy, she flees across Europe with a corrupt spy sent by Spain. As she completes the puzzle in the dungeon of a twelfth-century Belgian fortress, Joanna realizes the life of Henry VIII as well as the future of Christendom are in her hands — hands that must someday hold the chalice that lies at the center of these deadly prophecies.
Important Note: Prices are subject to change without notice. The price displayed on the vendor website at the time of purchase will be the price paid for the book. Please confirm the price of the book before completing your transaction.
Cinemystery: Joelle Charbonneau's YA Thriller The Testing Optioned for Film
Paramount has optioned Joelle Charbonneau's young adult thriller The Testing for film. The book, published just this week by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, is the first in a trilogy. (More details, below.) Deadline reports that no additional production details were made available at the time of the announcement.
Charbonneau is also the author of two mystery series for adults, the Rebecca Robbins "Skating" mysteries (for Minotaur Books) and the Paige Marshall "Glee Club" mysteries (for Berkley Prime Crime).
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The Testing
Joelle Charbonneau
The Testing Trilogy
It's graduation day for sixteen-year-old Malencia Vale, and the entire Five Lakes Colony (the former Great Lakes) is celebrating. All Cia can think about — hope for — is whether she'll be chosen for The Testing, a United Commonwealth program that selects the best and brightest new graduates to become possible leaders of the slowly revitalizing post-war civilization. When Cia is chosen, her father finally tells her about his own nightmarish half-memories of The Testing. Armed with his dire warnings ("Cia, trust no one"), she bravely heads off to Tosu City, far away from friends and family, perhaps forever. Danger, romance — and sheer terror — await.
Authors on Tour: Luke Delaney with Cold Killing, a Sean Corrigan Mystery
with Luke Delaney
We are delighted to welcome crime novelist Luke Delaney to Omnimystery News today, courtesy of Partners in Crime Tours, which is coordinating his current book tour. We encourage you to visit all of the participating host sites; you can find his schedule here.
Luke introduces London Detective Inspector Sean Corrigan in Cold Killing (Willliam Morrow; May 2013 trade paperback and ebook formats).
Today we are pleased to present an excerpt from his new book.
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SATURDAY. I AGREED TO GO TO THE park with the wife and children. They're over there on the grassy hill, just along from the pond. They've fed themselves, fed the ducks, and now they're feeding their own belief that we're one normal happy family. And to be fair, as far as they're concerned, we are. I won't let the sight of them spoil my day. The sun is shining and I'm getting a bit of a tan. The memory of the latest visit is still fresh and satisfying. It keeps the smile on my face.
Look at all these people. Happy and relaxed. They've no idea I'm watching them. Watching as small children wander away from mothers too distracted by idle chat to notice. Then they realize their little darling has wandered too far and up goes that shrill shriek of an overprotective parent, followed by a leg slap for the child and more shrieking.
I am satisfied for the time being. The fun I had last week will keep me contented for a while, so everyone is safe today.
Chapter 1
Thursday
It was 3 a.m. and Detective Inspector Sean Corrigan drove through the dreary streets of New Cross, southeast London. He had been born and raised in nearby Dulwich, and for as long as he could remember, these streets had been a dangerous place. People could quickly become victims here, regardless of age, sex, or color. Life had little value.
But these worries were for other people, not Sean. They were for the people who had nine-to-five jobs in shops and offices. Those who arrived bleary eyed to work each morning, then scuttled home nervously every evening, only feeling safe once they'd bolted themselves behind closed doors.
Sean didn't fear the streets, having dealt with the worst they could throw at him. He was a detective inspector in charge of one of South London's Murder Investigation Teams, dedicated to dealing with violent death. The killers hunted their victims and Sean hunted the killers. He drove with the window down and doors unlocked.
He'd been asleep at home when Detective Sergeant Dave Donnelly called. There'd been a murder. A bad one. A young man beaten and stabbed to death in his own flat. One minute Sean was lying by his wife's side, the next he was driving to the place where a young man's life had been torn away.
The streets around the murder scene were eerily quiet. He was pleased to see that the uniformed officers had done their job properly and taped off a large cordon around the block the flat was in. He'd been to scenes before where the cordon started and stopped at the front door. How much evidence had been carried away from scenes on the soles of shoes? He didn't want to think about it.
There were two marked patrol cars alongside Donnelly's unmarked Ford. He always laughed at the murder scenes on television, with dozens of police cars parked outside, all with blue lights swirling away. Inside, dozens of detectives and forensics guys would be falling over each other. Reality was different. Entirely different.
Real crime scenes were all the more disturbing for their quietness — the violent death of the victim would leave the atmosphere shattered and brutalized. Sean could feel the horror closing in around him as he examined a scene. It was his job to discover the details of death, and over time he had grown hardened to it, but not immune. He knew that this scene would be no different.
He parked outside the taped-off cordon and climbed from the isolation of his car into the warm loneliness of the night, the stars of the clear sky and the streetlights removing all illusion of darkness. If he had been anyone else, doing any other job, he might have noticed how beautiful it was, but such thoughts had no place here. He flashed his identification to the approaching uniformed officer and grunted his name. "DI Sean Corrigan, Serious Crime Group South. Where's this flat?"
The uniformed officer was young. He seemed afraid of Sean. He must be new if a mere detective inspector scared him. "Number sixteen Tabard House, sir. It's on the second floor, up the stairs and turn right. Or you could take the lift."
"Thanks."
Sean opened the boot of his car and cast a quick glance over the contents squeezed inside. Two large square plastic bins contained all he would need for an initial scene examination. Paper suits and slippers. Various sizes of plastic exhibit bags, paper bags for clothing, half a dozen boxes of plastic gloves, rolls of sticky labels, and of course a sledgehammer, a crowbar, and other tools. The boot of Sean's car would be mirrored by detectives' cars across the world.
He pulled on a forensic containment suit and headed toward the stairwell. The block was of a type common to this area of London. Low-rise tenements made from dark, oppressive, brown-gray brick that had been thrown up after the Second World War to house those bombed out of old slum areas. In their time they'd been a revelation — indoor toilets, running water, heating — but now only those trapped in poverty lived in them. They looked like prisons, and in a way that's what they were.
The stairwell smelled of urine. The stench of humans living on top of one another was unmistakable. This was summer and the vents of the flats pumped out the smells from within. Sean almost gagged on it, the sight, sound, and smell of the tenement block reminding him all too vividly of his own childhood, living in a three-bedroom, public housing duplex with his mother, two brothers, two sisters, and his father — his father who would lead him away from the others, taking him to the upstairs bedroom where things would happen. His mother too frightened to intervene — thoughts of reaching for a knife in the kitchen drawer swirling in her head, but fading away as her courage deserted her. But the curse of his childhood had left him with a rare and dark insightfulness — an ability to understand the motivations of those he hunted.
All too often the abused become the abusers as the darkness overtakes them, evil begetting evil — a terrible cycle of violence, virtually impossible to break — and so the demons of Sean's past were too deeply assimilated in his being to ever be rid of. But Sean was different in that he could control his demons and his rage, using his shattered upbringing to allow him insights into the crimes he investigated that other cops could only dream of. He understood the killers, rapists, and arsonists — understood why they had to do what they did, could interpret their motivation — see what they saw, smell what they had smelled, feel what they had felt — their excitement, power, lust, revulsion, guilt, regret, fear. He could make leaps in investigations others struggled to understand, filling in the blanks with his unique imagination. Crime scenes came alive in his mind's eye, playing in his head like movies. He was no psychic or clairvoyant; he was just a cop — but a cop with a broken past and a dangerous future, his skill at reading the ones he hunted born of his own dark, haunted past. Where better for a failed disciple of true evil to hide than among cops? Where better to turn his unique tools to good use than the police? He swallowed the bile rising in his throat and headed for the crime scene — the murder scene.
Sean stopped briefly to acknowledge another uniformed officer posted at the front door of the flat. The constable lifted the tape across the door and watched him duck inside. Sean looked down the corridor of the flat. It was bigger than it had seemed from the outside. DS Donnelly waited for him, his large frame filling the doorway, his mustache all but concealing the movement of his lips as he talked. Dave Donnelly, twenty-year-plus veteran of the Metropolitan Police and very much Sean's old-school right-hand man. His anchor to the logical and practical course of an investigation and part-time crutch to lean on. They'd had their run-ins and disagreements, but they understood each other — they trusted each other.
"Morning, guv'nor. Stick to the right of the hallway here. That's the route I've been taking in and out," Donnelly growled in his strange accent, a mix of Glaswegian and Cockney, his mustache twitching as he spoke.
"What've we got?" Sean asked matter-of-factly.
"No sign of forced entry. Security is good in the flat, so he probably let the killer in. All the damage to the victim seems to have been done in the living room. A real fucking mess in there. No signs of disturbance anywhere else. The living room is the last door on the right, down the corridor. Other than that we've got a kitchen, two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a separate room for the toilet. From what I've seen, the victim kept things reasonably clean and tidy. Decent taste in furniture. There's a few photies of the victim around the place — as best I can tell, anyway. His injuries make it a wee bit difficult to be absolutely sure. There's plenty of them with him, shall we say, embracing other men."
"Gay?" Sean asked.
"Looks that way. It's early days, but there's definitely some decent hi-fi and TV stuff around the place, and I notice several of the photies have our boy in far-flung corners of the world. Must have cost a few pennies. We're not dealing with a complete loser here. He had a decent enough job, or he was a decent enough villain, although I don't get the feel this is a villain's home." Both men craned their heads around the hallway area, as if to confirm Donnelly's assessment so far. He continued: "And I've found a few letters all addressed to a Daniel Graydon. Nothing for anyone else."
"Well, Daniel Graydon," Sean asked, "what the hell happened to you? And why?"
"Shall we?" With an outstretched hand pointing along the corridor, Donnelly invited Sean to continue.
They moved from room to room, leaving the living room to the end. They trod carefully, moving around the edges so as not to disturb any invisible footprint indentations left in the carpets or minute but vital evidence: a strand of hair, a tiny drop of blood. Occasionally Sean would take a photograph with his small digital camera. He would keep the photographs for his personal use only, to remind him of details he had seen, but also to put himself back at the scene anytime he needed to sense it again, to smell the odor of blood, to taste the sickly sweet flavor of death. To feel the killer's presence. He wished he could be alone in the flat, without the distraction of having to talk to anyone — to explain what he was seeing and feeling. It had been the same ever since he was a young cop, his ability to step into the shoes of the offender, be it a residential burglary or murder. Seeing the scene through the eyes of the offender. But only the more alarming scenes seemed to trigger this reaction. Walking around scenes of domestic murders or gangland stabbings he saw more than most other detectives, but felt no more than they did. This scene already seemed different. He wished he were alone.
Sean felt uncomfortable in the flat. Like an intruder. As if he should be constantly apologizing for being there. He shook off the feeling and mentally absorbed everything. The cleanliness of the furniture and the floors. Were the dishes washed and put away? Had any food been left out? Did anything, no matter how small, seem somehow out of place? If the victim kept his clothing neatly folded away, then a shirt on the floor would alert Sean's curiosity. If the victim had lived in squalor, a freshly cleaned glass next to a sink full of dirty dishes would attract his eye. Indeed, Sean had already noted something amiss.
Sean and Donnelly came to the living room. The door was ajar, exactly how it had been found by the young constable. Donnelly moved inside. Sean followed.
There was a strong smell of blood — a lot of blood. It was a metallic smell. Like hot copper. Sean recalled the times he'd tasted his own blood. It always made him think that it tasted exactly like it smelled. At least this man had been killed recently. It was summer now — if the victim had been there for a few days the flat would have reeked. Flies would have filled the room, maggots infesting the body. He felt a jolt of guilt for being glad the man had just been killed.
Sean crouched next to the body, careful to avoid stepping in the pool of thick burgundy blood that had formed around the victim's head. He'd seen many murder victims. Some had almost no wounds to speak of, others had terrible injuries. This was a bad one. As bad as he'd seen.
"Jesus Christ. What the hell happened in this room?" Sean asked.
Donnelly looked around. The dining room table was overturned. Two of the chairs with it had been destroyed. The TV had been knocked from its stand. Pictures lay smashed on the floor. CDs were strewn around the room. The lights from the CD player blinked in green.
"Must have been a hell of a fight," Donnelly said.
Sean stood up, unable to look away from the victim: a white male, about twenty years old, wearing a T-shirt that was 50 percent soaked in blood, and hipster jeans, also heavily soaked in blood. One sock remained on his right foot; the other was nowhere to be seen. He was lying on his back, the left leg bent under the right, with both arms stretched out in a crucifix position. There were no restraints of any kind in evidence. The left side of his face and head had been caved in. The victim's short hair allowed Sean to see two serious head wounds indicating horrific fractures to the skull. Both eyes were swollen almost completely shut and his nose was smashed, with congealed blood crusted around it. The mouth hadn't escaped punishment, the lips showing several deep cuts, with the jaw hanging, dislocated. Sean wondered how many teeth would be missing. The right ear was nowhere to be seen. He hoped to God the man had died from the first blow to his head, but he doubted it.
The pool of blood by the victim's head was the only heavy saturation area other than his clothing. Elsewhere there were dozens of splash marks: on the walls, furniture, and carpet. Sean imagined the victim's head being whipped around by the ferocity of the blows, the blood from his wounds traveling in a fine spray through the air until it landed where it now remained. Once examined properly, these splash marks should provide a useful map of how the attack had developed.
The victim's body had not been spared. Sean wasn't about to start counting, but there must have been fifty to a hundred stab wounds. The legs, abdomen, chest, and arms had all been brutally attacked. Sean looked around for weapons, but could see none. He returned his gaze to the shattered body, trying to free his mind, to see what had happened to the young man now lying dead on his own floor. For the most fleeting of moments he saw a figure hunched over the dying man, something that resembled a screwdriver rather than a knife gripped in his hand, but the image was gone as quickly as it had arrived. Finally he managed to look away and speak.
"Who found the body?"
"That would be us," Donnelly replied.
"How so?"
"Well, us via a concerned neighbor."
"Is the neighbor a suspect?"
"No, no," Donnelly dismissed the idea. "Some young bird from a few doors down, on her way home with her kebab and chips after a night of shagging and drinking."
"Did she enter the flat?"
"No. She's not the hero type, by all accounts. She saw the door slightly open and decided we ought to know about it. If she'd been sober, she probably wouldn't have bothered."
Sean nodded his agreement. Alcohol made some people conscientious citizens in the same way it made others violent temporary psychopaths.
"Uniform sent a unit around to check it out and found our victim here," Donnelly added.
"Did he trample the scene?"
"No, he's a probationer straight out of Hendon and still scared enough to remember what he's supposed to do. He kept to the edges, touched nothing."
"Good," Sean said automatically, his mind having already moved on, already growing heavy with possibilities. "Well, whoever did this is either very angry or very ill."
"No doubt about that," Donnelly agreed.
There was a pause, both men taking the chance to breathe deeply and steady themselves, clearing their minds, a necessary prelude before trying to think coldly and logically. Seeing this brutality would never be easy, would never be matter-of-fact.
"Okay. First guess is we're looking at a domestic murder."
"A lover's tiff?" Donnelly asked.
Sean nodded. "Whoever did this probably took a fair old beating themselves," he added. "A man fighting for his life can do a lot of damage."
"I'll check the local hospitals," Donnelly volunteered. "See if anyone who looks like they've been in a real ding-dong has been admitted."
"Check with the local police stations for the same and wake the rest of the team up. Let's get everyone together at the station for an eight a.m. briefing. And we might as well see if we can get a pathologist to examine the body while it's still in place."
"That won't be easy, guv."
"I know, but try. See if Dr. Canning is available. He sometimes comes out if it's a good one, and he's the best."
"I'll do what I can, but no promises."
Sean surveyed the scene. Most murders didn't take long to solve. The most obvious suspect was usually the right suspect. The panicked nature of the crime provided an Aladdin's cave of forensic evidence. Enough to get a conviction. In cases like this, detectives often had to do little more than wait for the laboratory to examine the exhibits from the scene and provide all the answers. But as Sean looked around something was already niggling away at his instincts.
Donnelly spoke again. "Seems straightforward?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty happy." He let the statement linger.
"But … ?"
"The victim almost certainly knew his killer. No forced entry, so he's let him in. A boyfriend is a fair bet. This smells like a domestic murder. A few too many drinks. A heated argument. A fight kicks off and gets nastier and nastier, both end up beaten to a pulp and one dies. A crime of passion that the killer had no time to prepare for. He's lost it for a while, killed a friend. A lover. Now all he wants to do is run. Get away from this flat and be somewhere safe to think out his next move. But there're a couple of things missing for me."
"Such as?"
"They've probably been having a drink, but there are no glasses anywhere. Can you remember dealing with a domestic murder where alcohol wasn't involved?"
"Maybe he cleaned the place up a bit?" Donnelly offered. "Washed the glasses and put them away."
"Why would he bother cleaning a glass when his blood and fingerprints must be all over the place after a struggle like this?"
"Panic?" Donnelly suggested. "Wasn't thinking straight. He cleaned up his glass, maybe started to clean up other stuff too before he realized he was wasting his time."
"Maybe."
Sean was thinking hard. The lack of signs of alcohol was a small point, but any experienced detective would have expected to find evidence of its use at a scene like this. An empty bottle of cider. A half-empty bottle of Scotch, or a champagne bottle to fuel the rage of the rich. But it was the image he was beginning to visualize that was plaguing him with doubt — the image his mind was piecing together using evidence that was missing as much as evidence that was present. The image of a figure crouching very deliberately over the victim. No frenzy, no rage, but evil in a human form.
"There's something else," he told Donnelly. "The killing obviously took place in the living room. We know he must have gone out the front door because everything else is locked up nice and tight. But the hallway is clean. Nothing. The carpet is light beige, yet there's no sign of a bloody footprint. And the door handle? Nothing. No blood. Nothing.
"So our killer beats and stabs the victim to death in a frenzied moment of rage and yet stops to clean his hands before opening any doors. After killing a man who may have been his lover, he's suddenly calm enough to take his shoes off and tiptoe out of the place. That doesn't make a lot of sense."
Donnelly joined in. "And if our boy did stop to clean himself up before leaving, then where did he get clean? He had two choices. The sink in the bathroom or the sink in the kitchen."
Sean continued for him. "We've seen both of them. Clean as a whistle. No signs of recent use. Not even a splash of water."
"Aye," Donnelly said. "But it's probably nothing. We're assuming too much. Maybe forensics will prove us wrong and find some blood in the hallway we can't see."
Sean wasn't convinced, but before he could reply the uniformed constable at the front door called into the flat. "Excuse me, sir, your lab team is here."
Sean shouted a reply. "Coming out."
He and Donnelly walked from the flat carefully, keeping to the route they'd used on entering. They walked to the edge of the taped-off cordon where they knew Detective Sergeant Andy Roddis would be waiting with his team of specially trained detectives and scene examiners.
DS Roddis saw Sean and Donnelly approach. He observed their forensics suits but was not impressed. "I take it you two have already been trampling all over my scene." He was right to be annoyed. The book said no one into the house except the scene examination team. "Next time I'm going to seize your clothing as exhibits."
Sean needed Roddis on his side.
"Sorry, Andy," he said. "We haven't touched a thing. Promise."
"I hear you have a dead male for me in flat number sixteen. Yes?" Roddis still sounded irritated.
"I'm afraid so," said Donnelly.
Roddis turned to Sean. "Anything special you want from us?"
"No. Our money's on a domestic, so stick to the basics. You can keep the expensive toys locked away."
"Very well," Roddis replied. "Blood, fibers, prints, hair, and semen it is."
Donnelly and Sean were already walking away. Sean called over his shoulder, "I'm briefing my team at eight a.m. Try to get me a preliminary report before then."
"I might be able to phone something through to you. Will that do?"
"Fine," said Sean. Right now he would take anything offered.
It was shortly before 8 a.m. and Sean sat alone in his bleak, functional office in the Peckham police station, surrounded by the same cheap wooden furniture that adorned each and every police building across London. The office was just about big enough to house two four-foot battered oblong desks and an extra two uncomfortable chairs for the frequent visitors. Two ancient-looking computers sat, one on each desk, enabling him to view different inquiries at the same time, and the harsh fluorescent lights above painted everything a dull yellow. How he envied those TV detectives with their leather swivel chairs, banks of all-seeing, all-dancing computers, and most of all the Jasper Conran reading lamps slung low over shining glass desks. Reality was mundane and functional.
Sean thought about the victim. What sort of person had he been? Was he loved? Would he be missed? He would find out soon enough. The phone rang and made him jump.
"DI Corrigan." He rarely wasted words on the phone. Years of speaking into radios had trimmed his speech.
"Mr. Corrigan, it's DS Roddis. You wanted an update for your briefing?" Roddis didn't recognize any ranks above his own, but his powerful position meant he was never challenged by his seniors. He decided the forensic resources assigned to each case, and it was he who knew the right people at the right laboratories across the southeast who could get the job done. Everybody, regardless of rank, respected his monopoly.
"Thanks for calling. What've you got for me?"
"Well, it's early days."
Sean knew the lab team would have done little more than get organized. "I appreciate that, but I'd like whatever you've got."
"Very well. We've had a cursory look around. The entry and exit point is surprisingly clean, given the nature of the attack. And the hallway was clean too. Perhaps we'll find something when we get better lighting and some UV lamps. Other than that, nothing definite yet. The blood spray marks on the walls and furniture have me a little confused."
"Confused?" Sean asked.
"Having seen the victim's wounds, I'm pretty sure the blow to the head all but killed him, and it certainly knocked him down. I have a blood spray pattern on a wall that would be consistent with a blow to his head with a heavy object."
"So what's the problem?"
"If the victim was prostrate when the other injuries were inflicted, then I would only expect to find small, localized sprays, but I've got numerous others, over the carpet, broken furniture, up the walls. They're not consistent with his wounds."
"Then he must have other wounds we haven't seen yet," Sean suggested. "Or maybe the blood is from the attacker?"
"Possibly." Roddis sounded unconvinced. "No obvious murder weapon yet," he continued, "but it will probably turn up when we get into the search properly."
"Anything else?" Sean asked, in hope more than expectation.
"There's plenty of documentation: address books, diaries, bank books, and so on. It shouldn't be too hard to confirm the victim's identity. That's it so far."
Sean may not have particularly liked Roddis, but he valued his professionalism. "Thanks. It'll be a help in the briefing. Might keep the team awake." He hung up.
Reclining in his chair, Sean stared at the lukewarm cup of coffee on his desk. What would it mean if the splash patterns didn't match the wounds on the victim? Had the killer been badly injured himself and the blood sprays came from his wounds? He doubted it, especially if Roddis was right about the victim being all but taken out with the first blow to the head. And if he was knocked down with the first blow, then what the hell were the other injuries about? The answers would come, he reassured himself. Wait for the full forensic examination of the scene, the postmortem of the victim. The answers would come. They always did.
He stood and looked out of his window down at the station parking lot. He saw DS Sally Jones outside furiously smoking a cigarette, laughing and joking with a couple of girls from the typing pool.
He watched her, admiring her. A five-foot-three bundle of energy. He thought she had a good pair of legs, but she carried too much weight up top for his taste. He tried to remember if he had ever seen her fair hair not tied back in a ponytail.
He loved her ability to connect with people. She could talk to anyone and make them feel that she was their best friend in the world, and so Sean sometimes used her to do the things he would find impossible to do well. Speaking with grieving parents. Telling a husband his wife had been raped and murdered in their own home. Sean had watched in awe as Sally told people unthinkable things and then half an hour later she would be laughing and joking, puffing on a cigarette, chatting with whoever was close enough. She was tough. Tougher than he would ever be. He smiled as he watched her.
Sean wondered why she was still alone. He couldn't imagine doing this job and then going home to an empty house. Sally told him she was clearly too much for any man to handle. He had often tried to sense some sorrow in her. Some loneliness. He never could.
He checked the time. She was going to be late for the briefing. He could call out the window and warn her, but he decided it would be more fun to leave it.
He walked the short distance along the busy, brightly lit corridor: doors on both sides; old and new posters pinned and stuck to the walls, uniformly ignored by passersby all too single-mindedly trying to get to wherever they were going to stop and take notice of someone else's appeals for assistance. He reached the briefing room and entered. His team continued to chatter away among themselves. A couple of them, including Donnelly, mouthed a greeting. He nodded back.
The team was relatively small. Two detective sergeants — Sally and Donnelly — and ten detective constables. Sean sat in his usual chair at the head of a rectangular wooden table, the cheapest money could buy. He dropped his mobile phone and notebook in front of him and looked around, making sure everyone was there. He nodded to Donnelly, who understood the cue. They'd been working with each other long enough to be able to communicate without the need for words.
"All right, people, listen up. The guv'nor wants to speak and we've got a lot to get through, so let's park our arses and crack on." The murmuring faded as the team began to sit and concentrate on Sean.
Detective Constable Zukov spoke. "D'you want me to grab DS Jones, boss? I think she's having a smoke in the yard."
"No. Don't bother," Sean told him. "She'll be here soon enough."
The room fell silent, Sean looking at Donnelly with a slight grin on his face. They both turned to the briefing room door just as DS Sally Jones came bursting in. There was a low hum of stifled laughter.
"Shit. Sorry I'm late, guv." The hum of low laughter grew. Sally swatted Zukov across the head as she walked past. He threw his hands up in protest. "I told you to come and get me, Paulo." The constable didn't answer, but the smile on his face said everything.
Sean joined in. "Afternoon, Sally. Thanks for joining us."
"It's a pleasure, sir."
"As I'm sure you've all worked out, we've picked up another murder." Some of the team groaned.
Sally spoke up. "We're only in summer and already we've had sixteen murders on this team alone. Eight still need preparing for court. Who's going to put those court presentations together if we're constantly being dumped on?" There was a rumble of approval around the room.
"No point in moaning," Sean told them. "All the other teams are just as busy as we are, so we get this one. As you're all no doubt aware, we don't have a live investigation running, so we're the obvious choice."
Sean was prepared for the grumbling. Police officers always grumbled. They were either moaning about being too busy or they were moaning about not earning enough overtime. It was a fact of life with police.
He continued. "Okay, this is the job. What we know so far is that our victim was beaten and stabbed to death. At this time we believe the victim is Daniel Graydon, the occupier of the flat where we're pretty certain the crime took place. But his facial injuries are severe, so visual identification has yet to be confirmed. We are treating the flat as our primary crime scene. Dave and I have already had a look around and it's not pretty. The victim would appear to have been hit on the head with a heavy object, and that may well have been the critical injury, although we'll have to wait for the autopsy to confirm that. The stab wounds are numerous and spread across a wide area. This was a vicious, brutal attack.
"It is suspected the victim may be gay, and the early theory is that it was probably a domestic. If that's the case, then the killer himself could be hurt. We're already checking the hospitals and custody suites on the off chance he was picked up for something else after fleeing the scene. I don't want this to get complicated, so let's keep it simple. A nice, neat, join-the-dots investigation will do me fine."
Sean looked toward Sally.
"Sally, I want you to pick four guys and start on door-to-door immediately. That time of night, beaten to death, someone must have heard or seen something. The rest of you, hang fire. The lab team is looking at the victim's personal stuff, so we'll have a long list of people to trace and chat with soon enough. I don't expect it to be long before we have a decent idea who our prime suspect is.
"Dave. You go office manager on this one." Donnelly nodded acknowledgment. "The rest of you check with Dave at least three times a day for your assignments. And remember," Sean added, "the first few hours are the most important, so let's eat on the hoof and worry about sleep when the killer's banged up downstairs."
There were nods of approval as the group began to break up. Sean could sense their optimism, their trust in his leadership, his judgment. He hadn't failed them yet.
He prayed this case would be no different.
It was almost 1 p.m. and Sean had spent the morning on the phone. He'd told the same story a dozen times. To his superintendent, the Intelligence Unit, the gay and lesbian liaison officer, the local uniformed duty officer, the community safety inspector. He was sick of telling. Sally and Donnelly had returned for their meeting and sat in his office. Sally had brought coffee and sandwiches, which Sean ate without tasting. It was the first thing he had eaten since the phone call from Donnelly early that morning, so he was happy just to get something into his stomach.
Between bites they talked, all of them aware they hadn't a moment to waste on a proper lunch. The first days of a murder inquiry were always the same — so much to get through and so little time. Forensic evidence degraded, witnesses' memories faded, CCTV tapes would be recorded over. Time was Sean's enemy now.
"Anything from the door-to-door, Sally?" he asked. "Give me good news only."
"Nothing," she replied. "I've still got guys down there knocking on doors, but so far all we're being told is that Graydon kept himself to himself. No noisy parties. No fights. No problems. No nothing. Everybody says he was a nice kid. As for last night, nobody saw or heard a thing. Another quiet night in South London."
"That can't be right," Sean argued. "A man gets beaten to death within a few feet of what, four other flats, and no one heard it?"
"That's what we're being told."
Sean sighed and turned toward Donnelly. "Dave?"
"Aye. We've managed to make copies of his diary, address book, and what have you. I've got a couple of the lads going through that now. Expect to be informed about next of kin pretty soon. No boyfriend yet, though. No one name coming up over and over. I'll be sending the troops out to trace friends and associates as and when we have their details. Oh, and the coroner's officer has been on the blower. The body's been moved from the scene and taken to Guy's Hospital. Postmortem's at four p.m. today."
Sean's mind flashed with the images of previous postmortems he'd attended as he pushed what was left of his sandwich to one side.
"Who's doing it?"
"You've got your wish there, boss. It's Dr. Canning. Anything more from the forensics team at the scene?"
"Not yet. Roddis doesn't reckon they'll be finished until about this time tomorrow, then as usual everything gets sent to the lab and we wait."
A young detective from Sean's team appeared at the door holding a small piece of paper pinched between his fingers. "I think I've found an address for the parents." The three detectives continued to look at him.
"I'll take that, thanks," Sally told him. The young detective handed her the note and backed away from the door.
Sean knew his responsibilities. "I'll come too. Shit, this is gonna be fun. Dave, I'll see you back here at about three thirty. You can take me to the postmortem."
"I'll be here," Donnelly assured him.
Sean tugged his jacket on and headed for the door, Sally in pursuit. "And remember," he told Donnelly, "if anyone asks, this is a straightforward domestic murder. No need to get anyone excited."
"Having doubts?" Donnelly managed to ask before Sean was gone.
"No," Sean answered, not entirely truthfully. For a second he was back in the flat, back at the scene of the slaughter, watching the killer moving around Graydon's prostrate form, but he saw no panic or fury in his actions, no jealousy or rage, only a coldness — a sense of satisfaction.
Donnelly's voice snapped him back. "You all right, guv' nor?"
"Sorry, yes I'm fine. Just find me the boyfriend — whoever he is. Find him and you've found our prime suspect."
"I'll do my best."
"I know you will," Sean told him as he watched him stride back into the main office.
— ♦ —
Luke Delaney joined the Metropolitan Police Service in the late 1980s and his first posting was to an inner city area of South East London notorious for high levels of crime and extreme violence. He later joined CID where he investigated murders ranging from those committed by fledgling serial killers to gangland assassinations.
Cold Killing is his first novel.
— ♦ —
Cold Killing
Luke Delaney
A Sean Corrigan Mystery (1st in series)
Detective Inspector Sean Corrigan is not like other detectives. An unthinkable childhood left him with a fierce determination to protect the innocent. But it also marked him with an ability to identify the darkness in others — a darkness he recognizes still exists deep within himself.
When a young man is found brutally murdered, Corrigan, responsible for South London's Murder Investigation Team, takes the case. But what first appears to be a straightforward domestic murder very quickly leads Corrigan to several other victims and the most dangerous killer he's ever encountered. The perpetrator changes his modus operandi with each crime and leaves behind not a shred of usable forensic evidence. Still, Corrigan knows beyond a doubt that the same man is behind each of these deaths, and he soon finds himself in a lethal game of cat and mouse with a killer who strikes far too close to home.
Where To Draw the Line by Kari Milburn is Today's Third Featured Free MystereBook
MystereBooks is pleased to feature Where To Draw the Line by Kari Milburn as today's third free mystery ebook (A Novel of Suspense; Kindle format only).
This title was listed for free as of the date and time of this post, June 07, 2013 at 7:30 AM ET. Prices are subject to change without notice. The price displayed on the vendor website at the time of purchase will be the price paid for the book. Please confirm the price of the book before completing your transaction.
For a summary of all of today's featured titles, plus any that may have appeared before and are repeat freebies, visit our Free MystereBooks page. This page is updated daily, typically by 8 AM ET.
— ♦ —
Where To Draw the Line
Kari Milburn
A Novel of Suspense
Publisher: Kari Milburn
At what point would you choose to step over the line between what is right and wrong? How much would it take for you to break the law to uphold the law?
"I found Zoe crying in the street, soaked to the bone and covered with blood. She asked me to take her to the hospital. She later died and the man she named got away with it. He knew I was on to him. The police had no evidence, so I had to find it, myself. What I uncovered was not just one murder, but a string of them. And he was still playing …"
William battles his conscience, the law and a murderer …
Important Note: This book was listed for free on the date and time of this post. Prices can and do change without prior notice. Please confirm the price of the book before completing your purchase.
For more free mystery ebooks, visit our Free MystereBooks page.
Tutti Frutti by Mike Faricy is Today's Second Featured Free MystereBook
MystereBooks is pleased to feature Tutti Frutti by Mike Faricy as today's second free mystery ebook (A Dev Haskell Mystery; Kindle format only).
This title was listed for free as of the date and time of this post, June 07, 2013 at 7:20 AM ET. Prices are subject to change without notice. The price displayed on the vendor website at the time of purchase will be the price paid for the book. Please confirm the price of the book before completing your transaction.
For a summary of all of today's featured titles, plus any that may have appeared before and are repeat freebies, visit our Free MystereBooks page. This page is updated daily, typically by 8 AM ET.
— ♦ —
Tutti Frutti
Mike Faricy
A Dev Haskell Mystery
Publisher: Credit River Publishing
Dysfunctional, wrong guessing Private Investigator Dev Haskell falls head over heels for hot "cougar" Candi, offering himself up as a midnight treat only to learn she has a sexual appetite that's more than he can handle. Then, the moment he takes on Swindle Lawless as a new client bodies begin washing up on shore and they all seem to be drifting toward Dev.
A disbarred attorney, gangster twin brothers, a washed up porn star, illegal gambling and a sexually aggressive cougar make for another incredibly fast-paced page turner.
Important Note: This book was listed for free on the date and time of this post. Prices can and do change without prior notice. Please confirm the price of the book before completing your purchase.
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Grave Passage by William Doonan is Today's Featured Free MystereBook
MystereBooks is pleased to feature Grave Passage by William Doonan as today's free mystery ebook (A Henry Grave Mystery; Kindle format only).
This title was listed for free as of the date and time of this post, June 07, 2013 at 7:10 AM ET. Prices are subject to change without notice. The price displayed on the vendor website at the time of purchase will be the price paid for the book. Please confirm the price of the book before completing your transaction.
For a summary of all of today's featured titles, plus any that may have appeared before and are repeat freebies, visit our Free MystereBooks page. This page is updated daily, typically by 8 AM ET.
— ♦ —
Grave Passage
William Doonan
A Henry Grave Mystery
Publisher: The Glencannon Press
When retired FBI profiler Robert Samson is murdered onboard the cruise liner Contessa Voyager, Henry Grave is sent to investigate. Samson was giving a series of lectures on cold case crimes he felt he could crack. But he got cracked first. Henry has just five days before Voyager reaches Miami. There, the FBI will question the passengers, but the case will have grown cold and the killer will walk free unless Henry can find him first.
With the help of a television actress, a cosmonaut, and a Venezuelan general fighting extradition, Henry draws on skills honed in a Nazi prison camp to track down a couple of passengers who might have their own reasons for taking this particular cruise, reasons unrelated to the sumptuous meals, delightful shipboard activities, and exciting ports of call.
Important Note: This book was listed for free on the date and time of this post. Prices can and do change without prior notice. Please confirm the price of the book before completing your purchase.
For more free mystery ebooks, visit our Free MystereBooks page.
This Body of Death by Elizabeth George is Today's Kindle Daily Deal
MystereBooks is pleased to feature This Body of Death by Elizabeth George as today's Amazon Kindle Daily Deal.
The deal price of $1.99 is valid only for today, Friday, June 07, 2013.
— ♦ —
This Body of Death
Elizabeth George
A Thomas Lynley Mystery
HarperCollins
On compassionate leave after the murder of his wife, Thomas Lynley is called back to Scotland Yard when the body of a woman is found stabbed and abandoned in an isolated London cemetery. His former team doesn't trust the leadership of their new department chief, Isabelle Ardery, whose management style seems to rub everyone the wrong way. In fact, Lynley may be the sole person who can see beneath his superior officer's hard-as-nails exterior to a hidden — and possibly attractive — vulnerability.
While Lynley works in London, his former colleagues Barbara Havers and Winston Nkata follow the murder trail south to the New Forest. There they discover a beautiful and strange place where animals roam free, the long-lost art of thatching is very much alive, and outsiders are not entirely welcome. What they don't know is that more than one dark secret lurks among the trees, and that their investigation will lead them to an outcome that is both tragic and shocking.
Important Note: This book was listed at the price mentioned above on the date and time of this post. Prices can and do change without prior notice. Please confirm the price of the book before completing your purchase.
