Authors: Leigh Russell
Death Bed
Detective Inspector Geraldine Steel relocates to London to take on another thrilling murder investigation.
While Geraldine strikes up a friendship with her new sergeant, the bodies of two black girls are discovered in quick succession in North London. Concerned about a reaction from the local black community, the police are puzzled to learn that two teeth were extracted from both victims after they died. One of the girls worked in a massage parlour and suspicion falls on a client of hers, a known racist. Geraldine is led to the upmarket shops of Bond Street in Central London. She fails to find the killer who is out prowling the streets hunting for his next victim. A young gay man unwittingly goes home with the killer who also takes another girl home to his attic, where he keeps his victims chained up while he shows them his ‘collection’. With the death toll mounting, Geraldine has no time to search for her birth mother as she hunts for the elusive killer the papers are calling ‘The Dentist’. When she finally discovers the gruesome collection on display in his attic, the killer knows that Geraldine must be his next victim.
Leigh Russell studied at the University of Kent gaining a Masters degree in English and American literature. A secondary school teacher, specialising in supporting pupils with Specific Learning Difficulties as well as teaching English, Leigh Russell is married with two daughters and lives in Middlesex. Her first novel,
Cut Short
, was published in 2009, followed by
Road Closed
in 2010 and
Dead End
in 2011.
DEAD END
‘All the ingredients combine to make a tense, clever police whodunnit’
-
Marcel Berlins
, The Times
‘I could not put this book down.’
-
Ann Marie Muldoon
, Newbooks magazine
‘A brilliant talent in the thriller field.’
-
Jeffery Deaver
‘An encounter that will take them into the darkest recesses of the human psyche’
-
Barry Forshaw
, 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.’
-
Amanda C M Gillies
, 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’
-
Mike Stafford
,
bookgeeks.co.uk
‘a macabre read, full of enthralling characters and gruesome details which kept me glued from first page to last’
-
GS
,
www.crimesquad.com
‘cleverly thought out, gripping and convincing… I couldn’t put this book down… can’t wait for the next Geraldine Steel story to come out’
-
Helen M Hunt
,
bookersatz.blogspot.com
‘a series that can rival other major crime writers out there… Can’t wait for the next one!’
-
Best Books to Read
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’
-
Amanda Gillies
,
eurocrime.co.uk
‘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’
-
Marj Stuart
, San Francisco Book Review
‘perfect character building… cleverly written… can’t wait for the next one.’
-
bestbookstoread.co.uk
‘New star of crime fiction, Leigh Russell’s chilling psychological thriller is terrific & terrifying!’
-
Clem Chambers
‘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.’
-
Sam Millar
, New York Journal of Books
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.’
-
Publisher’s Weekly
‘an excellent debut’
-
Mark Campbell
, 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
,
itsacrime.typepad.com
‘Simply awesome! This debut novel by Leigh Russell will take your breath away’
-
Amanda C M Gillies
,
eurocrime.co.uk
‘an excellent book...Truly a great start for new mystery author Leigh Russell. ‘
-
Michael Lipkin
, New York Journal of Books
Cut Short
is a book I had to read in one sitting… excellent new series’
-
Beth
, Murder by Type
‘a surefire hit - a taut, slick, easy to read thriller ‘
-
Melanie Dakin
, Watford Observer
‘a pretty fine police procedural, with a convincing if disconcerting feel of contemporary Britain.’
-
PPO Kane
, The Compulsive Reader
‘Cut Short featured in one of Eurocrime’s reviewers’ Top Reads for 2009’
-
Amanda Gillies
, Eurocrime
‘
Cut Short
is not a comfortable read, but it is a compelling and important one. Highly recommended.’
-
Radmila May
, Mystery Women
‘well written debut psychological thriller’
-
stopyourekillingme.com
‘gritty and totally addictive debut novel’
-
Sam Millar
, New York Journal of Books
‘If you’re a real fan of police procedurals, you’ll probably enjoy this read’
-
Claudette C. Smith
, Sacramento Book Review
‘‘I found Cut Short to be a fantastic read, taking me only days to finish. I thought it to be well-written and well-paced, with a fresh batch of intriguing characters to go along with a fresh tight plot.’’
-
James Garcia Jr
., Dance on Fire
‘Leigh Russell may look like your everyday school teacher, but unlike most other English tutors she is also a bestselling crime writer’
-
Tori Giglio
, Bushey News
‘an excellent story, skilfully built and well told’
-
Sue Magee
,
www.thebookbag.co.uk
‘intelligently written, gripping crime fiction’
-
Helen M. Hunt
, Bookersatz Blogspot
‘I look forward to the second book in the series’
-
Nayu’s Reading Corner
‘a very excellent book!’
-
The Book Buff Blog
‘a wonderful series’
-
Clarissa Draper
,
clarissadraper.blogspot.com
‘difficult to put down’
-
Calum
, The Secret Writer
LEIGH RUSSELL
Dedicated to
Michael, Jo and Phill
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Dr Leonard Russell for his medical
advice, all my contacts on the Metropolitan Police Force
who have been so generous with their time, Heather
Bonney at the Human Remains Unit at the Natural History
Museum for her expert knowledge, my editor Keshini
Naidoo for her guidance, and the wonderful team at No
Exit Press for their support and assistance.
‘“
He knows death to the bone -
Man has created death
.”
W B Yeats
Contents
28: A STRAIGHTFORWARD QUESTION
31: CONCEALED FROM EVERY ANGLE
TAKE ME HOME
M
usic thumped out a regular beat, any melody obscured by the fluctuating din of voices. Struggling towards the bar with the rest of the clamouring throng, Donna felt sick. She had drunk too much on an empty stomach and the coke wasn’t helping either. Telling herself she was old enough to know better, she manoeuvred her way over to the toilets and swore when she saw the long queue. A wave of nausea washed over her and she felt as though she would suffocate in that hot, noisy bar. She fought her way back to the table in the corner and tapped Lily on the shoulder.
‘I’m going out for some air.’
Lily smiled up at her.
‘Orange juice,’ she yelled in reply.
‘I’m going out,’ Donna shouted. ‘I can’t breathe in here.’
Lily nodded. Donna wasn’t sure if she’d heard her or not.
‘I’m going outside,’ she repeated. ‘You coming?’
Lily shook her head and said something that Donna couldn’t make out. She turned and made her way through the door and onto Camden High Street. Pausing in the entrance, she leaned unsteadily against the door jamb and took a few deep breaths that only made her feel dizzy. A couple of men were standing on the pavement in front of her, smoking. Donna was aware of their eyes following her as she staggered forwards. One of them held out a spliff. She took it and inhaled gratefully. It didn’t make her feel any better.
‘Not bad looking,’ he commented, loudly enough for her to hear.
‘You know what they say about black girls,’ the other one replied and whistled.
As she hurried past them her heel caught on an uneven paving stone. She felt her ankle turn over and almost lost her balance. Startled, she registered that something was wrong and, looking down, saw a thin high heel lying uselessly on the pavement beside her left foot. ‘Sod it,’ she grumbled. Behind her she heard the two men laughing. ‘Pricks,’ she muttered under her breath. Afraid she was going to throw up in front of them, she hobbled to the corner and turned off the main road into a narrow alley where she stood for a moment, steadying herself with one hand against the wall and leaning forward, waiting to be sick. She wasn’t. Reeling, she turned back to the main road. All she wanted was to get home, but a large group of raucous young men had gathered on the corner of the High Street and she would have to limp past them to reach the station. In desperation she decided to return to the pub and find Lily, but her head was spinning and she couldn’t remember which way to go. One of the youths on the corner had turned and was watching her curiously as she tottered on one heel.
While she wavered, a car drew up beside her and a man got out. Seeing Donna sway, he ran round the front of the vehicle in time to catch her by the elbow and steady her.
‘Are you alright, Miss?’
‘Fine, fine. Get away from me.’
She stumbled and almost fell over.
‘You really shouldn’t be out on the streets alone in your state.’
‘I’m going to the station. I’m going home,’ she mumbled, close to tears. ‘I need to find Lily. I’m with Lily.’
‘Is there anyone at home to look after you?’ the man asked. ‘You’re in no state to be left on your own.’
‘I’m fine,’ she lied.
She was trembling, afraid she was going to pass out, yet at the same time overwhelmingly grateful for his concern.
She had left her jacket in the bar, but it was a warm evening and she felt uncomfortably hot.
‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
‘I’ll tell you what. My car’s here. I can take you home. It’s alright,’ he smiled reassuringly. ‘I’m a police officer.’
He pulled an identity card from his wallet and held it in front of her face but her eyes wouldn’t focus properly.
‘Come on, let’s get you home.’
Donna nodded her head in relief and was fumbling in her bag for her front door key when a thought struck her.
‘What about Lily?’
‘What?’
‘Lily. My friend, Lily. My flatmate.’
‘Don’t worry about her. She hasn’t been too bothered about you, has she?’
He sounded impatient and Donna realised he was right. Where was Lily when Donna needed her?
‘Come on, let me take you home,’ he urged again.
One thing was for sure, there was no way Donna would make it home by herself.
‘My shoe’s broken,’ she explained and began to giggle helplessly as the man put his hand on her shoulder and guided her to his car.
‘Here we are,’ he said.
Donna clambered in, hoping she wouldn’t chuck up, and relaxed. Her shoes were no good to her with one heel anyway. It was a relief to remove them, they were beginning to rub, and wearing them all evening had made her calves ache.
‘I live by Highbury Fields,’ she told him as she leaned back and closed her eyes.
It wasn’t far but they seemed to be driving for ages. When she looked up again they were passing Kentish Town station which didn’t seem right. Donna sat up and tried to work out where they were.
They passed Tufnell Park tube and soon after that she recognised shops on Highgate High Street. Everything looked blurred but at least she knew the road they were on, and the policeman must know where they were going. She closed her eyes again. She just wanted to sit without moving.
‘If you want to know the way, ask a policeman,’ she sang under her breath and sat up, gripped by a sudden anxiety.
‘You are taking me home?’
‘Don’t worry, we’re almost there.’
Donna leaned back feeling nauseous again.
The car slowed down and opening her eyes she saw they had turned off Highgate Hill and were driving past a pub on their left. Without warning, she leaned forward, bent almost double in the seat, and threw up all over her jeans.
‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ she mumbled.
The whole drive was turning into a nightmare, but the policeman didn’t even seem to notice she had been sick, although it stank. He drove on, staring straight ahead.
Looking up, Donna saw a small patch of grass, like a village green. Turning to look out of her passenger window she caught sight of a church on the other side before they turned sharply right into a narrow lane screened from the road by a row of tall trees.
‘Where are we?’
She tried to scoop some of the puke off her jeans with a tissue but it stuck to her thighs, sticky and disgusting.
‘This is where I live.’
‘Take me home. I want to go home.’
‘I brought you here so my wife can look after you until you sober up. Then I’ll take you home. You passed out in the car back there and you’ve been sick. If you vomit while you’re unconscious, you can choke. That’s dangerous and you shouldn’t be left alone. It was either bring you here or take you to the hospital, and they’re busy enough on a Saturday night as it is. My wife’s a police officer as well. She knows what to do.’
‘Where is she?’
‘She’s waiting for us inside. Now don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine.’
She fumbled with her seat belt while he opened double wooden gates with a remote control.
‘I can’t get this off,’ she grumbled as they drove in.
‘Here,’ he released her and helped her out of the car into darkness behind the high wooden gates which had slammed shut behind them. Sharp gravel pricked the soles of her bare feet as she followed him across the drive under the shadow of the trees. The front door closed and the man put one hand against the small of her back, propelling her towards the stairs. Donna resisted.
‘Don’t worry, my wife’s expecting you.’
For the first time he sounded irritated.
‘Why doesn’t she come down here then?’
‘Come on, there’s a bed all ready for you.’
The man grabbed hold of her wrist and half led, half dragged her up a carpeted staircase. She was dimly aware of passing a landing and a closed door, before lurching after him up a second narrow wooden flight of stairs. With a growing sense of alarm, she wondered how his wife had known about her.
‘Did you phone her?’ she asked, her voice thin and fretful.
The man didn’t even turn round.
At the top of the stairs he opened a door, pulled her inside and kicked the door shut behind her. Donna blinked. The room was very dark and it smelled foul. A skylight was covered with a black blind. Very little light came through narrow slits down the sides. She couldn’t make out much in the dimness, but she could see there was no one else there.
‘Let me go. I want to go home. Where’s your wife?’
She could barely speak, she was so frightened. Too late, she felt coldly sober, alert to the danger she was in. With an impulsive strength she jerked her arm free and rushed for the door. It was locked. A naked light bulb clicked on and she looked round and gasped. The wall opposite was covered in shelves displaying nightmarish objects.
Suddenly the man grabbed her by the throat and thrust her so she fell backwards onto a bed in the middle of the room. For a second she lay mute with terror then she began to scream, kicking out, trying to scratch him, horrified, while he twisted her round until she was lying lengthwise on the mattress. Swiftly, the man shackled her wrists and ankles with cold metal manacles attached to the bed, then sat back on his heels, astride her body.
As she stared, his face came into focus. The shadows from the light behind him exaggerated the length of his narrow pointed nose, and his eyes gleamed darkly at her. Slowly his thin lips curved in a smile.
‘There’s no point calling out for help. The house is pretty isolated so don’t think any of the neighbours will hear you if you make a racket. They won’t. No one will. Except me, of course.’
He climbed off the bed and left, closing the door firmly behind him.
Alone in the darkness Donna tried to calm down so she could think about what to do, but she couldn’t stop sobbing.