Being Dead is Easy: A totally gripping crime thriller by Louise Sharland

Author:Louise Sharland [Sharland, Louise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books - crime, thrillers & mysteries
Published: 2025-01-20T00:00:00+00:00

I’m sitting opposite a six-foot, well-built man who may have killed my best friend, and hyperventilating to the point that I might just pass out. I’ve been told PTSD can just creep up on you like that, debilitating you without a moment’s notice. So much for my protests about not suffering from the condition. I take a sip of tea, hoping it will ease the tightness in my throat.

‘Just take your time,’ says Frank gently. ‘Breathe through your nose and let it settle in your belly.’ He reaches forward and takes my hand. ‘Do it with me.’ I let him take me through the box breathing technique. I follow his guidance, desperate for some form of release from this overwhelming sense of suffocation.

We do this three more times before I begin to feel I can breathe normally again.

‘I’m sorry about your daughter.’ My voice is raspy and weak. I rise shakily to leave, my courage and curiosity abandoning me. ‘I shouldn’t have come.’

‘You’re here now,’ he replies bluntly. ‘You might as well ask me what you came for.’

I take a moment to consider if this is all really worth it – my constant disregard of boundaries, the endless questioning, approaching people who are just as damaged as me.

I take another sip of tea and decide the only thing I can do is be completely honest. I tell him about my conversations with the working girls on Stonehouse Street, and the deplorable David Spencer.

‘Did she really do that?’ I feel tears forming and force them away. ‘Did Layla really take advantage of your daughter?’

Frank’s fury has seemed to dissipate, and like me he just seems exhausted.

‘She certainly took her money.’

‘And did she do what she said she would, share her list of subscribers?’

‘That, I gather she did,’ says Frank almost reluctantly, ‘but Daisy didn’t know how to manage it. It wasn’t the first time she’d bought an Only Fans subscribers list, either. She’s a lovely girl my Daisy, but also naïve and sometimes just plain foolish. Her early success on the site only made her more hungry, and so she started buying up other girls’ subscription lists as well.’

‘Which is how she met Layla.’

Frank nods. ‘She followed all the local girls, looked up to them.’

‘What makes you think Layla ripped her off?’

‘They all do,’ he says bluntly. ‘Take advantage of the hopeful wannabes to add to their earnings.’

‘But it doesn’t mean that Layla–’

‘You’re not going to give me the “hooker with the heart of gold” scenario, are you?’

‘Layla was not a hooker.’

‘Okay,’ he says patronisingly, ‘sex worker.’

‘She wasn’t that either.’

‘Can we for once,’ he says through gritted teeth, ‘just be honest about all this?’

My research into the whole cam girls thing brought up plenty of creators who openly referred to themselves as sex workers, but then there were also the housewives, actors, dancers and even a team GB Olympic diver who were producing content on the site.

‘It’s all so hard to get my head around,’ I mutter.

‘And that’s why I’m so angry at all those creators who take advantage of the hopefuls.

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