MURDER IS SKIN DEEP: A gripping UK Murder Mystery (DCI Garrick Crime Thrillers Book 2) by M.G. Cole

Author:M.G. Cole [Cole, M.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tanglebox Books
Published: 2021-04-07T16:00:00+00:00

17

Yet again, PC Fanta Liu's intervention saved Garrick from a costly mistake. He had been in the middle of texting Wendy to cancel their ramble across the Kent Downs when Fanta had passed by and glanced at his phone. An action that annoyed Garrick as he was all too aware of her acute powers of observation.

“Is that your friend I met last night?” she asked as innocently as possible, something she wasn’t particularly good at. Before Garrick could snap that she should mind her own business, Fanta quickly continued. “Only it’s bad form these days to let anybody down with a text message. I mean, it’s one step away from ghosting. Just saying…”

She quickly walked away, fearing his grumpy wrath. She was right, of course. Garrick should have known that. It was the sort of advice his sister would’ve given him. Blindingly obvious advice. He called Wendy on his way home and was relieved to hear her sound sympathetic. He promised to make it up to her as soon as possible, and they had chitchatted aimlessly all the way back to his house.

On reflection, it was a welcome change. Any work-related interventions had always been met with a frosty reaction in previous relationships. He appreciated Wendy’s relaxed attitude and began thinking about how he could make it up to her. Maybe another musical if she liked them so much? Perhaps that was a step too far…

His empty house seemed to compound his loneliness tonight. Perhaps because the day had been so hectic, or maybe there was some deeper disappointment that he would not see Wendy tomorrow.

A quick meal of microwaved beans on toast raised previously unasked questions about his poor diet. He had clearly sunk into bachelorhood so firmly than he realised. He picked up his half-cleaned ammonite from the dining table and inspected it. There was a still good few hours’ worth of cleaning still to be done, as well as the tidying of a large chunk of matrix that he had left the fossil sitting on. Still, to his eyes, he had carved a beauty from the rock. Some of his enthusiastic air scribing had accidentally pitted the ancient shell and, in his clumsiness, he had completely removed one of the spiralling ridges, but he prided himself that it was still recognisable. Some of the detail that he had uncovered beneath the rock was quite breathtaking. The echoes of his migraine persisted, so any further work on it would have to wait.

He put the television on and sat on the sofa, with his feet on the coffee table. He hazarded that opening himself up to a little pop culture may give him more to talk about with Wendy. There was a few days’ worth of post to go through, mostly junk that had travelled across the country, been hand-delivered to his house, just so he could then carry it those last few yards to the kitchen bin and its final fate in a recycling centre. A thin bank statement and an increased Council Tax bill did nothing to lift his mood.

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