THE SHETLAND KILLER an enthralling Scottish murder mystery full of twists (DETECTIVE INSPECTOR JACK DAWES MYSTERY Book 3) by FRANCES LLOYD

Author:FRANCES LLOYD [LLOYD, FRANCES]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JOFFE BOOKS murder mystery and crime
Published: 2019-10-13T20:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

A man and a woman stood on the lip of the Unst cliffs from where they had a perfect view of Out Stack, the most northerly point in the British Isles. Beneath them, massive waves crashed against the jagged sea stacks and seals lolled on the rocky shore, but they were not there to admire the dramatic scenery. The woman had chosen this place because they could not be overheard above the fierce, howling wind and they were unlikely to be observed by anyone who mattered. She was dressed in designer jeans, a Stella McCartney silk parka and a headscarf that flapped frantically in the wind. The man shouted above the furore of the wind and sea.

“Nice outfit. Must have cost a packet. Business is obviously booming.”

She yelled back. “You must be sitting on a decent little nest egg yourself, by now.”

The man, restless and uneasy, scowled and flicked his cigarette butt over the cliff edge into the wild Shetland landscape. “It wasn’t the money that dragged me into this.”

“But you took it, didn’t you?”

“Yes and I was a fool. I always knew there’d be another time, another favour, but two bodies. For Christ’s sake! Where will it end?”

She was calm, dispassionate. “You knew what the business was about; what he does.”

“Yes, he kills people.”

“That’s right, he kills people. You haven’t seen them, but I have. I’ve watched them die. Now, I’ve stopped looking. They’re just statistics to me.” She took a mirror from her handbag and checked her lipstick. “Look around you. Everyone’s on a rake-off from something. It doesn’t matter whether it’s tax evasion or drug trafficking and prostitution. I don’t care who’s selling what or who’s buying whom; every bastard’s on the take. Even here, in Doomdochry. So wake up and smell the coffee.” She opened her bag and took out a bulging envelope, but held on to it as the man went to take it. “Just keep your mouth shut and do your job. You saw what happens to people who talk too much.” She released the envelope and the man snatched it and stashed it inside his jacket. Then he turned on his heel and strode away.

* * *

Following Fraser’s death, an even greater sense of foreboding hung over Doomdochry. The opinions of the local gossips were split. Some believed, like Geordie, that he had been killed by ‘foreign’ mobsters from the city gambling dens and he probably had it coming to him. Others held the view that he had in some way been responsible for the death of the wee lassie who fell from the tower and could no longer live with the guilt so had done away with himself. The seriously unhinged declared that Grant was an illegitimate descendant of the first Earl and that the Green Lady had come back from the grave to wreak terrible revenge upon him. The general consensus was that so few suspicious deaths had ever happened in Doomdochry that two in less than a fortnight had to be linked in some way.

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