Murder Ring (A DI Geraldine Steel Mystery) (2 page)

‘DEATH BED
is her most exciting and well-written to date. And, as the others are superb, that is really saying something! 5*’ –
Euro Crime

‘The story itself was as usual a good one, and the descriptive gruesomeness of some scenes was brilliant’ –
Best Crime Books

CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOR
DEAD END

‘All the ingredients combine to make a tense, clever police whodunnit’ –
Marcel Berlins
,
The Times

‘I could not put this book down’ –
Newbooks Magazine

‘A brilliant talent in the thriller field’ –
Jeffery Deaver

‘An encounter that will take readers into the darkest recesses of the human psyche’ –
Crime Time

‘Well written and chock full of surprises, this hard-hitting, edge-of-the seat instalment is yet another treat… Geraldine Steel looks set to become a household name. Highly recommended’ –
Euro Crime

‘Good, old-fashioned, heart-hammering police thriller… a no-frills delivery of pure excitement’ –
SAGA Magazine

‘the critical acclaim heaped on Russell thus far in her literary career is well deserved’ –
Bookgeeks

‘a macabre read, full of enthralling characters and gruesome details which kept me glued from first page to last’ –
Crimesquad

‘
Dead End
was selected as a Best Fiction Book of 2012’ –
Miami Examiner

CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOR
ROAD CLOSED

‘A well-written, soundly plotted, psychologically acute story’ –
Marcel Berlins
, The
Times

‘Well-written and absorbing right from the get-go… with an exhilarating climax that you don’t see coming’ –
Euro Crime

‘Leigh Russell does a good job of keeping her readers guessing. She also uses a deft hand developing her characters, especially the low-lifes… a good read’ –
San Francisco Book Review

‘perfect character building… cleverly written… can’t wait for the next one’
–
Best Books to Read

‘
Road Closed
is a gripping, fast-paced read, pulling you in from the very first tense page and keeping you captivated right to the end with its refreshingly compelling and original narrative’ –
New York Journal of Books

CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOR
CUT SHORT

‘Cut Short
is a stylish, top-of-the-line crime tale, a seamless blending of psychological sophistication and gritty police procedure. And you’re just plain going to love DI Geraldine Steel’ –
Jeffery Deaver

‘Russell paints a careful and intriguing portrait of a small British community while developing a compassionate and complex heroine who’s sure to win fans’ –
Publishers Weekly

‘an excellent debut’ –
Crime Time

‘It’s an easy read with the strength of the story at its core… If you want to be swept along with the story above all else,
Cut Short
is certainly a novel for you’ –
Crimeficreader

‘Simply awesome! This debut novel by Leigh Russell will take your breath away’ –
Euro Crime

‘an excellent book…Truly a great start for new mystery author Leigh Russell’ –
New York Journal of Books

Cut Short
is a book I had to read in one sitting… excellent new series’ –
Murder by Type

‘a sure-fire hit – a taut, slick, easy-to-read thriller’ –
Watford Observer

‘fine police procedural, with a convincing if disconcerting feel of contemporary Britain’ –
The Compulsive Reader

‘Cut Short
featured in one of Euro Crime’s reviewers’ Top Reads for 2009’ –
Euro Crime

‘
Cut Short
is not a comfortable read, but it is a compelling and important one. Highly recommended’ –
Mystery Women

‘gritty and totally addictive debut novel’ –
New York Journal of Books

Also by Leigh Russell

Geraldine Steel Mysteries

Cut Short

Road Closed

Dead End

Death Bed

Stop Dead

Fatal Act

Killer Plan

Ian Peterson Murder Investigations

Cold Sacrifice

Race to Death

Blood Axe

To Michael, Joanna, Phillipa and Phil

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Dr Leonard Russell for his expert medical advice, and all my contacts in the Metropolitan Police for their invaluable assistance.

I would also like to thank the inimitable Annette Crossland for her loyal support.

Producing a book is a team effort. I am fortunate to have the guidance of a brilliant editor, Keshini Naidoo, and I am very grateful to Ion Mills and Claire Watts, along with all the dedicated team at No Exit Press, who transform my words into books.

My final thanks go to Michael, who is always with me.

Glossary of acronyms

DCI – Detective Chief Inspector (senior officer on case)

DI – Detective Inspector

DS – Detective Sergeant

SOCO – scene of crime officer (collects forensic evidence at scene)

PM – Post Mortem or Autopsy (examination of dead body to establish cause of death)

CCTV – Closed Circuit Television (security cameras)

VIIDO – Visual Images Identifications and Detections Office

Prologue

S
TAGGERING OUT OF
the restaurant, David was up for another drink before catching the train home. One by one his staff made their excuses until he was left alone on the pavement.

‘Well, sod you,’ he mumbled, ‘lightweights the lot of you.’

Still fumbling with the buttons on his new leather jacket, he stopped outside a bar. ‘Here it is then. One for the road.’

A young woman with pink hair came over to serve him. Coloured glass glittered on her fingers as she put his pint down on the bar.

‘Get one for yourself,’ he told her, handing over a tenner. He glanced down at her fingers. ‘You like jewellery?’

‘Sure.’

In a convivial mood, he was ready for a chat.’I had my wife’s engagement ring reset. Just got it back today.’ He leaned against the bar and raised his voice, eager to impress her. ‘It wasn’t cheap. Must take you a year to earn what her ring cost me.’

‘Really? Your wife’s lucky.’

‘She deserves it,’ he said solemnly. ‘She has a lot to put up with – me!’

He burst out laughing. Sometimes he forgot how witty he was. The girl behind the bar laughed too, displaying perfect teeth. Her smile gave him a warm feeling.

‘This is a nice place,’ he said. ‘And you’re a very nice girl. I can see that. Would you like to see my wife’s ring? I’ve got it right here.’ He patted his trouser pocket. ‘It cost me over twelve grand.’

‘You shouldn’t shout about it in public.’

David was about to speak to her again, but she moved away to serve another customer. Finding a seat at a corner table, he hung his jacket carefully over the back of his chair before sitting down. At the bar the pink-haired girl was talking to someone else. Finishing his pint, he stood up. He felt a little woozy. With a last glance over his shoulder at the girl behind the bar, he staggered out. The night air sobered him slightly, making him shiver. All he wanted was to go home and lie down. The pavement along Oxford Street was crowded. Turning on to a side street he walked more quickly, heading in what he thought was the right direction.

Hearing footsteps pounding along the street behind him he looked over his shoulder, fleetingly worried, then laughed because the street was deserted. All the same, he felt uneasy. Everything looked different in the dark. He was bursting for a slash, so he turned off Wells Street into a narrow unlit lane. There was no one around to see him stagger over to the wall. Before he could unzip his trousers he heard footsteps approaching, and a hoarse voice called out. Turning his head, he made out a figure hovering in the shadows.

‘Gimme the ring.’

‘What?’ Sober enough to understand what was going on, he was drunk enough to be angry. ‘If you think I’m going to hand over my wife’s ring –’

As the shadowy figure raised one arm, the barrel of a gun glinted in the moonlight.

1

G
ERALDINE WENT TO
bed early but she couldn’t sleep. For years she had dedicated herself to her career as a police detective. While her personal life was unfulfilling, her track record on murder investigations was excellent. Nothing had ever interfered with her focus on her work. Until now. With the murder of a close colleague, she had discovered that years spent observing the bereaved had not prepared her to deal with grief of her own. She wondered if she would ever feel ready to investigate another murder, or if every corpse from now on would take her back to that one unbearable death. Rigid with misery, she sat at her kitchen table considering whether she ought to resign. At last she went back to bed.

She must have fallen into a deep sleep because when her phone rang, she reached out to switch off her alarm. A few seconds later, it rang again and she realised it was her phone. Cursing, she reached out to answer the call. It was ten to nine. Hearing the curt voice on the line, she was instantly awake, automatically registering the details and dressing hurriedly. Passing through the hall she grabbed a waterproof jacket. She had no idea what the weather was like. Her phone rang again as she opened her front door, car keys in hand.

‘I’m on my way.’

A body had been found in Central London, in a narrow cul-de-sac north of Oxford Street, halfway between Oxford Street station and Tottenham Court Road station. Geraldine drove straight to the location. It was not far in terms of distance, but the morning London traffic was heavy. As she drove, she listened to the report that had been sent. It gave only the basics. In a way she was relieved because that made it easier to process the information while she was driving. By the time she arrived at Wells Street she knew that a middle-aged man had been shot, once, in the chest. He had no wallet on him, suggesting he had been mugged. So far they were assuming the victim’s name was David Lester, the owner of the Oyster card found in his pocket, although his identity had yet to be confirmed.

The doctor had left by the time Geraldine arrived. The cul-de-sac where the dead man had been found was cordoned off. Several uniformed officers were standing at the end of the close, stopping any pedestrians from viewing the site. A scene of crime officer filled Geraldine in on the details. The body had been discovered by someone using the back entrance to one of the office blocks. The man who had reported the body had given a brief statement. Geraldine glanced through it before turning her attention to the victim.

‘What can you tell me?’