THE PORTSMOUTH MURDERS a gripping crime thriller full of twists (The Solent Murder Mysteries Book 1) by PAULINE ROWSON

Author:PAULINE ROWSON [ROWSON, PAULINE]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books crime thriller, mystery and suspense
Published: 2022-02-17T00:00:00+00:00

Ten

Saturday

He was running. The tunnel was closing in around him, the pinprick of light was fading; soon it would be gone. There would be no way out. Then a door appeared on his right. He pushed against it but it wouldn’t budge. He tried harder but still it refused to open, and all the time a tune was playing in his head. The tune was getting louder.

His body was drenched with sweat and yet he was shivering. His breath was coming in gasps and someone was hammering inside his head. Slowly he surfaced from the fog of sleep and nightmares. He fumbled for the torch, found it and switched it on, then reached for his phone and growled into it.

‘We’ve got another body, Inspector,’ the voice on the other end said.

Horton pulled himself together. ‘Who? Where?’

‘Warlingham Tower, Inspector. Don’t know who, but scene-of-crime officers are on their way, and so is Doctor Clayton.’

‘What about DCI Uckfield?’

‘He’s not at home. I’ve tried his mobile but it’s switched off. I left a message.’

‘I’m on my way. Give Cantelli a call, will you. Ask him if he’s not doing anything special, like sleeping, to meet me there.’ He glanced at his watch; it was almost one o’clock.

He switched on the lamp filling the pokey cabin with subdued light. His head felt terrible. He reached for his water and then he saw it: the small bottle, which was still full of the amber liquid. It had taken him all his will power to resist it but he had. He felt a sense of personal satisfaction that he hadn’t given in. Three months ago it would have been a very different story. It was a measure of how far he’d come. Despite extreme provocation he had resisted.

He should feel proud, but all he could feel was pain because he couldn’t stop thinking of Catherine. What was she doing now? Was she in bed with this Ed, making love to him? And Emma? Oh God, was she in her pink bedroom with ballerinas on the wall, with her teddies and dolls, sleeping? Or was she awake listening to Mummy and wondering what she was doing? He felt nausea rise up in him and wanted to retch. Quickly he took a deep breath and pulled on his trousers. Think of the body, think of the case, think of anything but Emma.

He wrenched the T-shirt over his head, and, as he stepped over his running gear, he began to feel grateful to the corpse for rescuing him from his torments. He pulled on his leathers and emerged into the foggy night.

Warlingham was about eight miles to the east of Portsmouth on the Chichester Road. Once it had been a thriving hamlet but all that was left now was the tower, a farm, a church, and a large cemetery that bordered the shore. To the east of Warlingham the shore led round to the village of Emsworth and to the west the island of Hayling.

He indicated off the motorway

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