by P. R. Black
He was taken aback. Blinking rapidly, he said: ‘I’m glad you’ve got her back, truly I am.’
‘Yeah. I sorted that out for you. Do you want to know how I did it? Where you and your hundreds of officers and thousands of hours didn’t?’ Without waiting for an answer, she said: ‘I have something you don’t. And you know what that is, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Instinct.’
‘Got it in one.’
‘Goodbye, Mrs Healey. I’m glad this was the right ending, for once.’
‘Close the door, please.’
When he was gone, Georgia felt inside her jacket pocket for her purse. Inside the special compartment were some pills. She popped one, almost without thinking.
Epilogue
On a blustery morning back in her own house, Georgia read the paper with her eyes screwed tight, chewing the side of her mouth.
MY NIGHT INSIDE THE SHADOWY MANOR HOUSE CULT, by Adrienne Connulty
‘There’s a rude phrase itching to get out of that one,’ Georgia muttered. She scanned the two-page spread until she couldn’t bear it any more. She folded the broadsheet up, then placed it in a buff-coloured folder. Then she turned to the Ferngate Ferret, which lay on the seat beside her.
EXCLUSIVE: DETECTIVE IN SEEDY CHESSINGTON HALL RITUAL NAMED, by Ivan Bell
‘Aw, good for you,’ Georgia said. ‘Listen to this: “DI Hurlford has been suspended pending an investigation.” No shit, Sherlocks.’
There was a sidebar down the side of the page, without a byline. There was a picture of Tony Sillars, above a simple headline:
LECTURER SUSPENDED PENDING PROBE
Georgia said nothing about this.
RISING STARS SPLIT – MEGIDDOS NO MORE
Fans of one of Britain’s hottest bands were left stunned after The Megiddos announced they had split, after just two years. The folk-rock duo’s lead singer Riley Brightman said he was pursuing a solo career, and thanked guitarist Scott Trickett for “two amazing years at the top of the creative tree”.
Trickett was arrested and interviewed over allegations of sexual harassment after comments emerged online about his alleged conduct, although he has not yet been charged with an offence.
‘Now there’s a career move, son,’ Georgia said. She folded the Ferret up, and placed it alongside the broadsheet.
Sat on the opposite side of the room, Stephanie was painting her toenails, painfully slowly, on the armchair opposite, one long leg hooked over the armrest. Without looking up from her task – carried out so slowly she appeared not to be moving – she said: ‘I see that bitch the Magpie has gone from strength to strength.’
‘Never doubted it for a minute, did you? She might be doing well for now. But everyone will know what she did. And she’s got a bigger problem than that.’
This time Stephanie did look up – a familiar, sardonic look in her black eyes. ‘Her personality and general demeanour?’
‘Spot on. You can’t fake that for too long. She’ll get found out.’ Georgia sipped at her tea, and gazed out beyond the conservatory. The rain still dimpled the windows, although it had ceased falling outside. The trees were just starting to turn, and the sky was grey. There was something appealing in the wild country outside the family home – the one Rod had agreed she should keep, after all. So long as Stephanie stayed with her.
‘You know, I don’t mind a day like this now and again, so long as we’re nice and cosy inside.’
Stephanie sniffed. ‘I was more thinking about going horse riding again.’
Georgia brightened. ‘Yeah?’
‘Oh yeah. Seriously. A retro thing. Or a nostalgia thing.’
‘Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but you were rubbish at horse riding.’
Stephanie snorted at the sheer affrontery; her purple nail varnish slithered across her neatly manicured toes. ‘Back in the bosom of the family, and you’re already tearing my self-esteem to pieces!’
‘Well, I’ll take you horse riding, then. But maybe we could go out for a nice lunch today?’
‘Sure. I’ll have the methadone.’
Georgia let this comment hang in the air, until her daughter coloured.
‘Sorry, Mum.’
‘Yeah. You know the score. Mummy’s in charge, and that’s official.’
‘I, er, wasn’t exactly joking. Pharmacy for me at 2.30. Mr West is quite dashing, don’t you think? Something of Christopher Plummer in The Sound of Music about him.’
‘You and your bloody older men. That explains why you’re finally doing your nails.’
‘I meant for you, not me!’
‘Well, we’re both single, that’s true. May the baddest bitch win.’
‘You win.’ Stephanie smiled – properly this time. ‘Hands down.’
‘Besides… I’ve got my own clinic to go to.’
‘You sure about that? I mean… it isn’t a competition thing, is it? I’ve been on smack for two years, and you try to one-up me with bloody painkillers!’
‘We’ll go through it together. You and me. We’ll take the steps.’
Steph’s face crumpled. Georgia hugged her again. She covered the top of that head with kisses. The hair had regained some of its shine, even though she had elected to get that bloody pixie cut once again. Georgia hugged her daughter closer, tighter. Every single hug was a blessing, a golden moment.
‘I think I might be suffocating,’ Stephanie said.
‘Sorry. Mum’s prerogative. If I could keep you safe, here, with me, all the time, I would. That’s how it goes. So… any plans for tonight?’
‘Writing, I guess,’ Stephanie said, capping the vial of nail varnish perched on the end of the armrest. ‘I’ll start to write the whole thing. They advised me to do it. Not realising that I’d do it anyway. After I write it, I’ll feel better. Then I’ll see how we go. One day at a time, right?’
Georgia nodded. ‘That’s my girl.’
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Dr Stephen Docherty for his advice on one or two medical matters. As usual I haven't applied his excellent advice as rigorously as I might have, so any errors relating to the body, illness and injury are entirely my own. This is why he's a doctor, and I'm writing this!
Thanks as ever to my wife Claire, my kids Helena and Rory and my mother-in-law Elaine for putting up with all the typing. If keystrokes were dollars... Many thanks to Angie and Ian as ever for all the encouragement. Angie, I hope to fulfil the prophecy in the thesaurus one day.
Holly, Hannah, Vicky, Rhea, Helena, Claire and all the squad at Head of Zeus are absolute diamonds - thank you so much for all your support and help, and thank god you haven't seen how bad my mullet has got.
About the Author
P.R. BLACK lives in Yorkshire, although he was born and brought up in Glasgow. When he’s not driving his wife and two children to distraction with all the typing, he enjoys hillwalking, fresh air and the natural world, and can often be found asking the way to the nearest pub in the Lake District.
His short stories have been published in several books including the Daily Telegraph’s Ghost Stories and the Northern Crime One anthology. He took the runner-up spot in the 2014 Bloody Scotland crime-writing competition with “Ghostie Men”. His work has been performed on stage in London by Liars’ League.
@PatBlack9
An Invitation from the Publisher
We hope you enjoyed this book. We are an independent publisher dedicated to discovering brilliant books, new authors and great storytelling. Please join us at www.headofzeus.com and become part of our community of book-lovers.
We will keep you up to date with our latest books, author blogs, special previews, tempting offers, chances to win signed editions and much more.
Get in touch: [email protected]
www.headofzeus.com
@headofzeus
@HoZ_Books
Head of Zeus Books
Long Dark Road