To Die For: A chilling British detective crime thriller (The Hidden Norfolk Murder Mystery Series Book 9)

by J M Dalgliesh

  "Shut up, damn you!"

  "You must have thought your dreams were coming true when Billy agreed to pay. You watched him leave for the meeting that night, fully expecting him to hand the money over to your boyfriend. How shocked must you have been when he returned later, tired, fearful and… excited at having secured your freedom?"

  "All he had to do was pay!" Sasha screamed at her. "That's all. Then it would have been over—"

  "And by the same time the following day you and Aleksandrs would have been away, leaving poor little Billy to figure out what had happened. Would you have told him, pleaded some case for having to return home to care for a sick grandmother? You see, I checked up on the back story you gave us. Heartbreaking as it was, it would appear that both your grandmothers are deceased and have been for quite some time. And as for your poor, dead mother… well, she will be up for parole next year according to Latvian authorities. But I wouldn't hold your breath on seeing her anytime soon. Although, I'll hand it to her, it's a remarkable return from the dead—"

  Sasha sat forward and spat in Tamara's face.

  "Bitch!"

  She sank back while Tamara wiped her face with the sleeve of her coat.

  "Now that's the reaction I would expect to see from a woman who is able to stab an unarmed man in the chest. Did he even see it coming? I doubt it—"

  "He was happy! Happy to have murdered my Alek…" Sasha said through gritted teeth, waving her arms in the air in exasperation. "It was only money! If he paid… nobody dies this night."

  "And that's why they grabbed you off the street, isn't it? They thought you took the money when you left but no, you high-tailed it out of the house and ran. Had you been thinking straight, then you would have taken as much as you could carry and run as far away as you could, but you messed up. No money, no Aleksandrs… and no way to leave the country. Which is why we found you trying to gain entry to the hotel room… in the hope that Aleksandrs had left your passport there and maybe a bit of cash. At least then you would have had a chance to leave before anyone caught up with you."

  Sasha glared at Tamara across the table. After a moment, she sat back and folded her arms across her chest. The look of defiance was back. "I want to speak to a solicitor. I say nothing more."

  Tamara shook her head. "There's no need to. You can keep your mouth shut for as long as you like. None of this will be hard to prove… now we know what to look for."

  Sasha looked indignant, averting her eyes from Tamara's gaze. Tom beckoned the two uniformed officers into the kitchen and they formally arrested Sasha. She didn't resist, standing and remaining silent as she was handcuffed. As she was led away, she looked sideways at Tamara one last time, and smiled.

  Mary Bloom looked horrified at the revelation, Tamara came to stand alongside her, placing a reassuring hand on her forearm.

  "I've never met anyone so, so… callous and cold-hearted," Mary said.

  "I'm sorry you had to hear that, Mary. The internet is full of people like this targeting people’s emotions. If it's not men looking to con money out of vulnerable women, it's women targeting lonely men. Ultimately, they know we're all looking for somewhere to belong, to feel needed."

  "But it's all just about money," Mary said quietly.

  "The way of the world, I'm afraid."

  Mary shook her head, disappointed. "Not for me it isn't."

  Tamara smiled weakly, putting an arm around the older woman's shoulder and giving her a gentle hug towards her. "Don't ever change, Mary. You leave the cynicism to us."

  To you, Tom mouthed silently.

  Tamara resisted a smile but winked.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Eric stepped out of the front door of the two-bedroomed house he and Becca bought earlier in the year, baby George held in one arm, his head resting on Eric's shoulder. Tom noted that both Tamara and Cassie made approving sounds as the baby came nearer to them. That was a surprise because neither of them seemed particularly interested in having children of their own, and in Cassie's case, it would be a far more complicated process if she did. Tom had to admit George did look handsome in a pale blue Babygro, his shock of dark hair lifting off the top of his head as if it had been purposefully styled.

  George appeared to be taking everything in, his large brown eyes seemingly tracking every face as Eric manoeuvred his way to the car with a holdall in his left hand.

  "Do you need some help there?" Cassie asked. Eric nodded and passed the baby to her. George didn't mind, nestling into Cassie's upper arm as Eric unlocked the boot and added the bag to the others already packed. Dropping the boot lid, he quickly knelt and casually inspected the underside of the car. "What are you looking for?"

  Eric glanced up at Cassie, then the others reading their curious expressions. "I'm just checking, that's all."

  Standing up, he offered to take George back but Cassie indicated she was quite comfortable holding onto him for a little longer. Eric went back inside, returning moments later with Becca who was bearing yet another bag.

  "Haven't we got enough already?" Eric asked.

  "This one's purely for George. We have no idea what the weather will be like up there. What if it's freezing?"

  Eric frowned. "It's Northumberland, not Shetland."

  Becca offered him a withering look and he relented, accepting the bag from her and proceeding to find room for it in the boot of the car. Becca came to stand with Tom, Tamara and Cassie.

  "It's lovely of you all to come and see us off," she said.

  Tamara smiled. "We missed the send-off after the reception last week, so this is the next best thing."

  Becca turned her attention to George, his eyes closing as Cassie gently bobbed up and down to help him settle.

  "You're a natural."

  "Aye, it comes with experience," Cassie said, smiling at the child in her arms.

  "Well, maybe when it's two in the morning I could call you and you could come over and help him back to sleep in future?"

  Cassie laughed. Tom and Tamara stepped back from them.

  "Any word from the CPS regarding Rory McInally?" Tom asked.

  "The dogs we found out at the site were in a barn owned by a company that we can trace back to him. At least, he is a director of it. There's a fair chance he'll be charged with theft."

  "The drugs and the abduction?"

  Tamara shook her head. "You know as well as I do that without Billy Moy testifying that the cannabis farm was run by McInally and his goons, there is no chance of tying him to it. As for the abduction, Sasha hasn't fingered any of them for it. They wanted the money from her, thinking she’d stolen it. I’m not even convinced she knew Billy had all of that money stashed waiting for McInally to collect it. The Bartletts couldn’t believe their luck. Whether Sasha’s silence is by choice or she just doesn't want to for fear of retaliation, I don't know."

  "She could just be bloody-minded. So, McInally gets done for theft… as if he's stolen a load of laptops? That's a maximum seven-year sentence—"

  "If convicted, yes. Pets are property, Tom." Tamara shrugged. "I don't like it any more than you do but it is what it is. What did you make of Sasha when you interviewed her about Billy's murder?"

  "Calculating," he said. "Very calculating. Now she knows for certain we understand what happened to Billy, she's dropped the shy victim act and gone on the offensive. She's claiming self-defence… Billy bragged to her about killing and disposing of Aleksandrs Balodis, she challenged him and he attacked her."

  "A distinct lack of wounds to Billy's body show anything other than an unprovoked assault."

  "True," Tom said, "but her solicitor is running with the bruises to Billy's body being the result of an altercation between them."

  "We determined that was from his fight with Alan Finney, though."

  "Yes, but Finney is playing that down as much as possible. He wants to keep himself and his family out of it as much as possible, so there's every chance Sasha might be able to garner some measure of sy
mpathy from a jury at trial. The timeline could help her with that story. At least she's not denying killing Billy, and I can't see her walking away from it, not once it's revealed in court how she was in a relationship with Balodis and looking to exploit a vulnerable, lonely man, fleecing him for as much as they could get."

  "Yeah, a honey trap that cost Billy Moy far more than he would ever have imagined."

  Eric came back to Cassie and she handed him George, so that he could strap him into his car seat. Tom and Tamara re-joined them. Once Eric was busy inside the car, Becca leaned in to Cassie.

  "Eric told me what you said about talking to me… you know, about the honeymoon?"

  "Ah, right," Cassie said, smiling.

  "Thank you. I'm pleased he told me what was going on." She looked at the car, Eric was fiddling with the cross straps. "And I think you had something to do with us going away, didn't you?"

  Cassie flushed, looking away. "It was nothing. I'm happy I was able to help out."

  Becca threw her arms around Cassie, squeezing her tightly.

  "Ooookay," Cassie said, smiling and feeling awkward. She eased Becca away from her. "That'll do."

  Becca withdrew, still smiling. "Thank you." She then hurried to the passenger side of the car and got in.

  Eric stepped away from the car, gently closing the door. "Right, that's us ready to go," he said.

  "Make sure the two of you have a good time, Eric," Tom said.

  Eric looked past them. "Where's Cass?"

  She was nowhere to be seen. She had been with them only a moment before. Tom shrugged, shaking his head. Eric hurried around to the driver's side and offered them a brief wave as he got in. Cassie came from behind the hedgerow running the length of the drive and quickly dropped a loop over the tow bar. Tom raised an eyebrow in query. Cassie just grinned. The car started and they moved off, both Eric and Becca raising a hand from their windows and waving goodbye.

  The length of string attached to the car grew taut and several seconds later, Cassie urged both Tom and Tamara to step aside for their own benefit as two dozen tin cans shot out from behind the hedge as if giving chase to the car, clattering down the road and drawing attention from everyone nearby. The car stopped and Eric got out, staring hard at the cans and looking back at them.

  Cassie smiled broadly. "Well, the old ones are the best, aren't they?" She glanced between Tom and Tamara before turning to Eric and held her arms out from her sides as if to say she had little choice. "It seemed a shame to pass up the opportunity."

  Fool Me Twice

  Hidden Norfolk - Book 10

  Click here to receive a FREE digital copy of LIFE & DEATH, a Hidden Norfolk novella.

  Alternatively, visit my website at www.jmdalgliesh.com and sign up to my VIP Club and be the first to receive news and previews of forthcoming works.

  Never miss a new release.

  No spam, ever, guaranteed. You can unsubscribe at any time.

  Enjoy this book? You could make a real difference.

  Because reviews are critical to the success of an author’s career, if you have enjoyed this novel, please do me a massive favour by entering one onto Amazon.

  Yes, I am happy to leave a review - click here

  Reviews increase visibility. Your help in leaving one would make a massive difference to this author. Thank you for taking the time to read my work.

  Fool Me Twice - Preview

  Hidden Norfolk - Book 10

  Time had very little meaning these days. The enforced routine, stable and consistent from one point of view, coercive and inflexible from the other, made a clock, a schedule or personal plans utterly pointless. It was far easier at night, a time when many found it harder… almost unbearable for some. And it was those simple life experiences that he so often took for granted, no, not took for granted, but in reality never thought of at all; the choice of when to go to bed, what time to put the light out, when to close his eyes.

  Some nights were calmer than others. After all, sound carried. The neighbours were prone to arguments; debating how many bricks they could count in their surroundings –then heatedly discussing whose guess was closest to winning the bet – being the latest subject to dominate their focus during lock up. Then there were the others, the ones who should never be incarcerated in a place like this. That stood for half the people on the wing, if not more. They should be elsewhere, undoubtedly held securely in another facility for their own sake as much as for that of others, but not here. Never here.

  As for himself, where did he belong? He wasn’t offhand or cavalier regarding his fate. He accepted it. And it was terrifying. Every day was terrifying. And when that door opened, the noise grew louder. The pull onto the landing felt like a whirlpool dragging him down into the abyss or walking into what he imagined quicksand to be like – if it was the same as it had been portrayed in the films of his youth, anyway – but either way, no one was there to rescue him. He was alone and everyone knew it.

  His pad mate was okay; unstable and prone to outbursts, certainly, but he was stable and hadn’t been violent. At least the aggression had never been directed towards him thus far and for that he was grateful. Spiral, as he liked to be called, not his real name – he wouldn’t share his real name – could easily be described as a character. Weren’t they all? He was in for a minimum of fifteen years for aggravated burglary. What the aggravated part was related to was anyone’s guess. Lying on the top bunk waiting to hear the reassuring drone of snoring coming from below lent itself to growing anxiety after lights out. But it was a respite of sorts, at least. Only then could he close his own eyes and hope to dream of a place beyond these four walls, and the cracked window leaking cold air across his face each night. When it was quiet, he could imagine this was his choice, keeping the room cool with fresh air to aid a comfortable night’s sleep.

  That didn’t happen often.

  Spiral, or Dave as he’d been named by everyone else on the landing, not to his face though for obvious reasons of self-preservation, was already comfortably settled into his new regimen. He had done so within a few days. This wasn’t his first stay at Her Majesty’s pleasure. Fifteen years. That was some sentence, one that he could never hope to navigate himself. The thought of it would be too much, undoubtedly overwhelming. The looming thought of what he was facing on top of his already stiff sentence was enough to spark the fear of dread in him. Those moments of peace, night time in the main, was when those thoughts would vividly come to him, when he had the safety of a locked door between himself and those beyond it.

  Spiral was remarkably sanguine about his own time. Was it bravado, false or otherwise? For his part, he kept his head down, and did his level best to stay out of the way. If Spiral would let him then the door to their cell would remain closed, a personal choice to isolate, to put a physical barrier between him and them. If he could lock it, then that would be all the better. Pushing it closed was the best he could do and even then, only if Spiral was at work or circulating during association. Was it better to be completely alone? Every step heard on the grates outside the door made him focus on the threat, and there was always a threat, even if it was only in his head. It didn’t mean it wasn’t real. Everyone in there had a story, and most of them were horrific.

  Footsteps. They stopped on the landing outside. He heard voices and then the door creaked open. A face peered in at him, sitting quietly at the little table he shared with Spiral. It was Liam, at least he thought that was his name. They’d never spoken before. Although that wasn’t rare as he hadn’t’t spoken to many unless he had to.

  “You alright, mate?”

  He nodded, glancing past Liam to another man standing on the landing behind him looking both left and right. He glanced into the cell and their eyes met.

  “What are you staring at?”

  “Me?” he averted his eyes from the man at the door, looking at Liam and then the floor. “Nothing. I wasn’t staring at anything—”

  “You was! What was you sta
ring at?”

  He didn’t answer, hoping the chance confrontation would go away if he said nothing, sensing Liam take a half step into the cell.

  “Spiral around, is he?”

  “No… no, he isn’t. A–At work… in the machine shop, I think.”

  He was all but whispering.

  “Ah… right. Of course.”

  He looked up. Liam locked eyes with him briefly. There was something unsaid in his expression, and then he glanced behind him towards his friend at the door, nodded and retreated.

  He felt relief. Once they left, he would close the door again. Be safe. Liam stepped out onto the landing and he got up, quickly closing the distance between himself and the door, happy to see the two men move out of sight. Putting a hand on the cast iron cell door, he gently made to close it only to find a figure step into view and force it back open. Hurriedly, he stepped away from the newcomer, backing into the cell. There was something in his hand. What was it, a kettle?

  “This is for you!”

  The arm came up in a flash, snapping out at him, and the liquid contents of the kettle flew out in his direction. Instinctively, he brought his hands up to protect his face, but it was a fraction of a second too late and he heard screaming – he was screaming – the sound reverberating off the walls around him and he knew then that he was in trouble. He was burning. Boiling water mixed with sugar, what inmates called napalm because the mixture turned to paste, sticking to the skin and intensifying the heat. He didn’t hear the alarm sound on the wing outside the cell. He didn’t hear the instructions shouted at his fellow inmates to stand back.

  He was still screaming.