Katy’s Blog

Watch Captain Pug

Watch Captain Pug

Watch my Captain Pug video! On the 23rd of March, 2021, The Golden Legacy will be released on Amazon Kindle, though is already available for pre-order. A romance box-set, based upon the premise of the lure of cursed pirate treasure. It can be used for good or evil, but expect consequences. As far as I am aware, there are no pugs involved in this excellent collection of books, but do expect a really good read.

Music: Jackson Parodi – Barrett’s Privateers

You can pre-order The Golden Legacy at Amazon using the following links:

Death Marks: Chapters 12 & 13

Death Marks: Chapters 12 & 13

Uncompromising, gritty, thrilling, and not for the faint hearted! British detectives suspect a serial killer is on the loose. With the support of American profiler Dr Tessa Davies, they soon realize that this could be the work of a druidic sect.

Please enjoy another two chapters of my dark crime novel, Death Marks . For now, I will post a chapter every Monday and Thursday.

Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

All Available Chapters!


Death Marks

Chapter 12

Jeanette Walker plumped up the last cushion, looking around the small room, her impish face framed in dark curls, beaming. Neil would be so surprised. As she went to arrange the fruit bowl on the coffee table, the phone bleeped. Recognizing Neil’s number, she smiled as she said, ‘Hi babe. What? Hey, that’s great.’ She laughed, hugging the phone to her ear. ‘Tonight, at Two Blues? Wow. How did they pick you?  Anyway, that’s fantastic. I’ll have tea ready when you come in; then we can get there early. Yeah, see you.’

Putting down the phone, she clapped her hands, rushing to the bedroom, picking out underwear, a gold sequin top from the chest of drawers, and from the wardrobe, a black satin mini skirt. Laying them on the bed along with a black lace bra, matching thong, and net tights, she went to the tiny bathroom.

They moved in a couple of weeks ago and since then had painted the entire flat. Yesterday, they both had long shifts returning home at eight PM, time only for a hurried meal of egg, bacon, and chips followed by a gooseberry yoghourt. After an hour’s TV, they fell into bed. It was an early-morning shift, so they needed their sleep -no time for sex or late-night talks.

Her pride and joy consisted of a small lounge, kitchen, two bedrooms, one of which was a box room with just enough space for a single bed and a chest of drawers. The tiny bathroom held a toilet and shower far better than the sink at the other flat with the daily quick shower at the hospital. They were ecstatic, their first home together. Up until getting the flat, they’d made do with a bedsit, for which they’d paid an exorbitant rent. However, with them both gaining their degrees as lab technicians in medical technology and research, they could afford this. Maybe in time, they’d have enough for a down payment on their flat.

***

Music thumped, vibrating through her chair as she sat sipping her drink. Neil tapped his fingers to the beat of the music. ‘It’s great here, dark though.’

Jeannette smiled. ‘I’m just so glad you got the tickets. Strange though, turning up at the lab. So they were just with a thank you note?’

Neil brushed his fingers through bright blond hair, glinting shades of green and red in the lights. ‘Yeah, I thought it was a joke when the post lad gave it to me. It was one of those, “Congratulations, Mr. Bennett; you have won a prize.” But, I didn’t have to spend a fortune on a phone call and then win a toaster – just the tickets. So good – didn’t seem to be any strings attached.’

‘Did you go in for a competition anywhere?’

‘No, I did fill in a questionnaire on the computer the other day – one of those survey things.’

‘Must have been that. It costs a bomb to get in here. As long as we stick to lager, we’ll be okay.’

Jeannette looked up to see a man and young woman approaching their table. Jeannette’s heart sank a little; after all, they’d bagged the table early, but now the others were filled up; they knew they’d have to share. The guy bent his head towards them. Raising his voice over the music, he said, ‘Mind if we sit here? All the tables are full.’

Neil sat back, ‘Yeah, go ahead.’

The girl smiled, looking great in pale grey silk mini shorts and black tights, her black chiffon top with long sleeves laced up at the front and side; Titian hair slicked into a ponytail flowing down her back. ‘Thanks, I thought I’d be standing on my pins for the night.’

Jeannette looked down at the built-up stilettos. ‘Hey, they’re designer – which one?’

‘Tony Bianco. They’re great, not shoes for standing in, though.’

Jeanette’s eyes widened. ‘Wow, they are gorgeous.’

Extending his hand, the guy said, ‘I’m Kevin, and this is Julia. Hey, it’s dark in here, isn’t it?’

Picking up her glass, Jeannette said, ‘Creates an atmosphere.’

Still standing, Kevin grinned, ‘Can I get you another one?’

Jeannette shook her head. ‘No thanks; I’ve had one already. I’ve got an early start tomorrow, so I’d better stick with this. Thanks anyway.’

Looking over to Neil, he said, ‘Want a refill?’

Neil laughed. ‘Yeah, why not. Thanks – Foster’s Lager.’

Grinning, Kevin left the table to get the drinks while Julia put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. ‘So, do you guys live around here?’

Jeannette nodded. ‘We’re not far from the hospital. Just moved into our new flat actually.’

‘Oh, that’s great; you must be excited.’

‘Yeah, I am, just putting the finishing touches to the furniture. We had to paint the whole flat, so we lived out of boxes for the first couple of weeks.’

‘You must be relieved to get it all straight.’

‘Yeah, now I can concentrate on learning to cook properly.’

The discussion carried on as Kevin arrived back with the drinks. As he handed a pint glass to Neil, Julia shouted over the hub of voices and throbbing music, ‘Jeanette and Neil have just moved into their new flat; it’s not far from here.’

Kevin grinned. ‘Is that so. We’re still looking; it’s really difficult to find anything in Brighton. Plenty of places outside, but we want to be near to where we work – save on the traveling.’

Neil said, ‘So what do you do?’

Taking a sip from his beer, Kevin pushed back a lock of dark blonde hair. ‘Well, I’m a Pharmacist, and Julia here is in research – chemistry.’

‘Hah, interesting. We’ve both just graduated – medical research lab technicians.’

‘Oh, so we’re kind of in the same professions.’

Looking up, he said, ‘The floors packed; do you want to dance, Julia?’

The girl shook her head. ‘I’ll have a drink first, warm up.’ Turning to look at Jeannette, she said, ‘You two dance?’

Jeannette nodded eagerly, ‘Oh yeah – love it.’

Kevin raised his hand. ‘Enjoy.’

Not wanting to bump into tables, Neil pushed his way through the gyrating bodies while they danced, tugging Jeannette along behind him. ‘Hey, nice couple.’

‘Julia’s very pretty.’

‘So are you. She’s pretty, but you’re drop-dead gorgeous.’

Jeannette felt her heart bursting with happiness; it was a fantastic night, Neil, the music, dancing, and the prospect of returning to the new flat, a sexy bedroom with the deep maroon silk duvet cover and pillow shams.

The beat changed, becoming slow – sensual. Jeannette’s movements enticed Neil. Moving nearer, he put his hands on her hips. She responded, arching her back, swaying to the slowing rhythm.

From the table, Kevin looked over to them, waving. As he lowered his hand, the smile vanished; tension caught his face in a vice. He looked down at the drinks, then at Julia. ‘Now? They’re engrossed with each other.’

Julia’s hand moved towards Jeanette’s drink.

Chapter 13

Lowering her gaze, she examined the pics, unable to suppress a shudder racking her body as she saw the two mutilated bodies. She could feel the goosebumps rising on the skin of her arms. ‘God, I feel as if the room’s turned to ice.’

Redd gazed at her hair, the sun casting a blue sheen on ebony waves. Her finger hovered over the photo as she said, ‘Are they lying on the bare earth?’

‘Yes, the perps dug shallow graves. They’d strewn oak leaves around the bodies.’

Tessa peered at the photos. ‘Yes, you’re right, so are there any oak trees near the scene?’

‘I don’t know. I’d better go and have another look at the crime scene.’ Pausing, he said, ‘Would you like to come with me? It might help.’

Tess frowned; she was tired; it was a long day, and she’d had little sleep with the nightmares waking her in the small hours, her heart thudding, the sheets wet with perspiration. It took almost two hours to get back to sleep, despite her relaxation exercises. Maybe she needed to see Debbie again. ‘Err … I’m not sure I can make it.’ Seeing the concern in the blue eyes, she blurted out, ‘I’m tired; I’m having a few nightmares at the moment.’ She surprised herself; why was she saying this? She hardly knew him.

Redd saw the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the slightly drawn look of the pale olive skin. ‘Oh, I’m sorry … err … maybe another time?’

She hesitated; why did she feel the need to explain? Taking a breath, she said, ‘My sister is very ill – cancer. I called her three days ago, and I’ve had nightmares ever since – dreaming in symbols – terrifying symbols. My druid group is holding healing circles for her – praying to the Goddess. I believe in a kind of Power, whatever that may be. They have been so good to me. I feel safe with them.’

Redd wondered why she needed that security; what happened to her? Nodding, he kept quiet, his silence urging her to speak.

Her eyes clouded as she looked up at him. ‘She has aggressive cancer. I feel awful like I should give up the tenure – just go back home. It’s a helluva way when someone’s ill. I just want to be with her, you know.’ Raking pale fingers through her hair, she wondered why she was talking to him so intimately.

‘So where is home?’

‘Alabama.’

Redd heard the suffering, sensed there was something more profound. ‘That’s south-east, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, they call it the Yellowhammer state after the bird or ‘The Heart of Dixie.’ I come from Mobile, the oldest state, founded by the French Colonists – near the Yazoo lands.’

‘So you might be of French extraction then?’

‘Who knows, the name Davies is Welsh, but I know my ancestors are mostly Welsh and Irish.’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard of Mobile. Look, how about coming out for that ride? Change of scene?’

Hesitating for a moment, she said, ‘You know that may be a good idea. Thanks. I’ll just go and get a jacket.’

Redd blurted out, ‘Why don’t you bring Sweetpea along, take him for a run? Kingsley Vale is a great place for dogs.’ He shocked himself with this suggestion, regretting it almost immediately, as he looked at the dog now sliding off the couch again.

‘I know, besides the group meetings, I often take Sweetpea over there. So you don’t mind?’ Looking out of the window to the road, she said, ‘I mean your car – it’s new, isn’t it?’

Redd saw his baby, the sleek black lines gleaming, the swish upholstery. Fuck it; he’d have dog hairs all over it. He couldn’t change his mind now. He felt his mouth tighten as he tried to smile, ‘No … that’s okay – he needs a run, I expect.’

‘Well, if you’re sure, I’ll get a dog blanket, save you having to brush up his hairs. He’s in the moulting phase at the moment. They don’t actually shed much at all – only twice a year.’

Redd swallowed, trust his luck. He spoke through his teeth, ‘Don’t worry – no bother; is it mate?’ He patted Sweetpea’s head, keeping his movements slow – didn’t want his hand in the brute’s mouth.

As Tess left the room, the dog ambled over, and lowering his head, licked the carpet around Redd’s feet. He hoped he didn’t start licking his shoes; he just didn’t trust those teeth.


Copyright.

No part of this book may be stored, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Katy Walters

All rights reserved



Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

Available Chapters!

Death Marks: Chapter 11

Death Marks: Chapter 11

Uncompromising, gritty, thrilling, and not for the faint hearted! British detectives suspect a serial killer is on the loose. With the support of American profiler Dr Tessa Davies, they soon realize that this could be the work of a druidic sect.

Please enjoy another chapter of my dark crime novel, Death Marks . For now, I will post a chapter every Monday and Thursday.

Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

All Available Chapters!


Death Marks

Chapter 11

Redd felt a rush of hope. ‘That’s great. So I’ll go back to the autopsy.’

‘Okay, go ahead.’ Placing her cup of tea on the table, she crossed her legs, the denim hugging the sleek lines of her thighs.

‘The autopsy gave more information again; it appears they sawed through the sternum and ripped the rib cage open to extract the entrails. Having done that for some strange reason, they put them back into the body. It’s crazy – absolutely insane.’

Her eyes widened in horror, uncrossing her legs; she leaned forward as she said, ‘Did they mark the liver and the heart?’

Surprised, he said, ‘Yes. How did you know?’

‘Just a guess at present, but….’ her words faltered.

‘What is it?’

She hesitated again. ‘No, nothing – go on.’

‘The pathologist pointed out the markings formed the pattern of a wheel; the central axis was a stick and three spokes.’

‘I recognize that; I’m sure it’s a Triskelion, the symbol of the ancient Celtic religions and the Druids.’

‘I thought it was some insane message.’

‘No-one really knows what it means; some guess it could be the birth cycle – the three trimesters, or maybe the pagan triple Goddess. The three spokes stand for three bent legs. It developed from the prehistoric triple spiral.’

‘Pagans? I thought they were innocent, free sex, flowers, incense, and drums – the ones who gather at Stonehenge for the summer solstice.’

‘Some are like that, but I the group you’re dealing with, most probably read up the ancient rites and are re-enacting them—’

She stopped, suddenly putting her hands to her cheeks.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘You said one of the victims was decapitated?’

‘Yes – go on.’

She sighed deeply, ‘Then I suggest it’s the druids; they decapitated their prisoners and worshipped skulls. They would then clean out the skull and pour the victim’s blood into that, drinking and washing their faces in it. It was considered sacred; they attained the wisdom of the Gods. They’re called the Cult of the Severed Skulls. They also covered themselves with tattoos. It was a terrible – terrible time.’

‘Tattoos? The victims had tattoos.’

‘What kind?’

‘Circles, swirling lines in circles. What do they mean?’

‘The triple spirals again. It’s all connecting.’ Tess rubbed her forehead, putting her hand on her chest.

Seeing her distress, he realized he was dealing with a researcher, not a detective de-sensitized by vicious crimes or the traffic officer clearing up the gruesome remains of a road accident. He said, ‘Look if you don’t want to go through with this —’

‘I’m sorry; it’s such a shock. But, I have to help you. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t. But my suggestions must sound way out to you.’

‘No – no. You’ve given me a lot to think about.’

‘Well, my work is still in the research stage.’

‘I think we’re really gonna need you. Go on about these druids.’

She bit her lip. ‘To them, there was no death; it was all about balance; to receive life, you sacrificed life. The Druid priest truly believed he would immediately reincarnate in the next life, as a God and the ordinary person would instantly enter another body.’

‘You’ve gone pale. Maybe a brandy would help?’

She flushed. ‘I think I need it.’ Rising, she went to the drinks’ cabinet, taking out two brandy glasses and a bottle of Hennessey.

‘Ah, Cognac no less.’

She smiled, pouring out a generous measure and handing it to Redd. Sitting down across from him, she took a healthy swallow, feeling the warmth flow down her throat and into her gullet. ‘God, that’s better. For a moment, I honestly thought I was going to pass out. I just can’t believe someone would do something like this.’

After sipping his cognac in silence, giving her time to recover, he said, ‘Okay, I have more information for you. The pathologist discovered a cocktail of drugs in the stomach contents, the main one being Salvia Divinorum. It has low toxicity and addictive levels, but quite lethal when mixed with the other agents.’

Tess frowned. ‘I’ve heard of Salvia Divinorum, originally a shamanic drug; it’s widely available on the net – cheap too.’

‘Yeah, we looked it up. It’s quite powerful on its own, let alone mixed with others.’

Taking another sip of cognac, Tess said, ‘If the perpetrators use it, they wouldn’t be in any fit state to plan and carry out the eviscerations. They must give it to the victims.’

‘Huh, we’re back on evisceration – is that okay?’

‘Yes, the cognac’s helping. I have to face it, Chief Inspector. First, could you tell me a little more about the crime scene, you say Kingsley Vale? Where were the bodies placed exactly?’

Looking into those chocolate eyes, he felt his pulse rate quicken. ‘Call me Dan.’

She flushed. ‘Okay, Dan, it is. I’m Tess.’

‘So in answer to your question, they were found in a grove of yew trees.’

She bit her lip. ‘It’s the Druid’s particular sacred tree, besides the Oak that is. They must be offering the victims as sacrifices.’

‘Sacrifices?’

‘It was a different mindset in those times; today neo-druids are completely different and are non-violent; they see neo-druidism as a way of life, a philosophy. She paused; her hands gripped together, the knuckles white. ‘Actually – I have to tell you this before we go any further; I’m a neo-druid.’

‘Oh … err …’ for a few seconds, Redd was lost for words. Would this complicate matters? ‘So, you’d have lots of contacts with the neo-druids?’

‘Yes – there are a lot of interactions between the groups, especially at the festivals.’

He saw her face whiten. ‘You okay?’

‘No, not really, these crimes you’ve told me about cast a slur on today’s druids.’

‘These are different Tess – psychopaths looking for an excuse to kill.’

‘Mud sticks.’

‘Nonsense – look at this way, I think I’ve struck lucky. You can lead us into the groups.’ Trying to make her feel easier, he said, ‘You any good on the ancient languages? A scroll of rough old parchment was left with the body; we can’t make head or tail of it. I have a copy of it here.’

Taking it from him, she studied it for a few moments. ‘This is the Ogham alphabet of the ancient Celts; they used a system of lines in various positions. Just let me get down one of my books.’ Rising, she went to the bookshelves, picking out a black leathered volume. Coming back, she leafed through. ‘Ah yes, here we are – a list of Oghams and the meanings.’ Frowning, she picked up the pad and pencil from the table, her finger trailing down the lists as she wrote. ‘Ah yes – got it. How strange … so let me see … yes, I have it. It says, “The Oracle is defiled.” That sounds ominous.’

‘So the Druids used the Oracle?’

‘The ancient ones – yes. They had many divination forms, some quite benign – leaves, clouds, a flight of birds, the weather. But, they had a gruesome side; they used the human body in its death throes to predict important events.’

‘Christ.’ Her words cast a shadow over his heart. ‘It looks like we’re in deep shit. We had our suspicions that it was more than one but a group? How the hell would a group work as one in such a vicious crime?’

‘It could be one or two leaders working together, moulding the group. Being psychopaths, they know the members’ strengths and weaknesses; know how to push their buttons. Aided by drugs, they enslave them.’


Copyright.

No part of this book may be stored, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Katy Walters

All rights reserved



Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

Available Chapters!

The Golden Legacy

The Golden Legacy

I am so excited to be a part of this box set, The Golden Legacy. My contribution is the time travel romance, The Price of Love. I hope you you will give this box set a look, and that you enjoy a really good read.
Love, Katy

FIVE stories of passion and excitement, all the result of THE GOLDEN LEGACY.

The legacy of a pirate treasure is either a curse or a blessing depending on if it’s used for good or evil.

USA Today and NY Times Bestselling Authors.
Nancy Radke – Rebecca York – Susanne Matthews – Katy Walters


The Golden Legacy box-set. Five stories by Nancy Radke, Rebecca York, Susanne Matthews, Katy Walters. Pirate treasure and romance.

Love survives despite the trauma of pirates, kidnappings, and murder; villains, lies and deceptions. Travel from the 18th to 21st century and find what perils and pleasure await in this romance box set collection based on the cursed pirates’ treasure of THE GOLDEN LEGACY.


2021-03-23T00:00:00

  days

  hours  minutes  seconds

until

The Golden Legacy releases.


You can pre-order The Golden Legacy at Amazon using the following links:


Death Marks: Chapter 10

Death Marks: Chapter 10

Uncompromising, gritty, thrilling, and not for the faint hearted! British detectives suspect a serial killer is on the loose. With the support of American profiler Dr Tessa Davies, they soon realize that this could be the work of a druidic sect.

Please enjoy another chapter of my dark crime novel, Death Marks . For now, I will post a chapter every Monday and Thursday.

Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

All Available Chapters!


Death Marks

Chapter 10

Keeping his face composed, Redd nodded. ‘May we come in?’

Opening the door wider, the lined face grim, she led them through to the lounge. Her morbidly obese body brushed the sides of the narrow walls of the hall, the ridiculous mini skirt barely covering thunderous thighs, with skin mottled red, deeply pitted from cellulite. Dove wrinkled her nose at the stench of unflushed toilets, cigarettes, and fragmented joints, let alone clumps of dirty clothes strewn over chairs. They stepped around plates with the remains of last night’s takeaway.

‘Sorry about the mess, ain’t got around to cleaning yet.’

Dove hovered by the door, not wanting to sit down, whilst Redd sat on a wooden dining chair.

Fumbling in her cardigan pocket, the woman pulled out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Want one?’

Redd smiled, ‘No thanks.’

Grunting, her chin digging into her enormous breasts, she tried to lever herself up in the chair to reach the cigarette lighter. Dove’s eyes widened as Regina’s short skirt rode up to reveal a naked crotch. Oh, God, couldn’t the woman cover herself up. Redd seemed unaware of the monstrous thighs opening. ‘Want a cuppa?’

Dove glanced through to the kitchen, at the sink piled high with dirty dishes, ‘No, thank you; I’ve only just had one.’ Shaking his head, Redd muttered something about not being thirsty.

Dragging deeply on a cigarette, the woman appeared disinterested as to why they wanted to question her daughter. Sucking the smoke down, she directed out a stream of it to the ceiling.

Redd steepled his fingers as he leant forward. ‘Regina, can I call you Regina?’

The woman, busy sucking down the smoke, nodded.

‘We actually want to talk to your daughter Delle.’

‘She ain’t my daughter no more – little slag.’

Redd frowned, ‘I see. Do you know where Delle is?

‘Nah, ain’t seen her in months. Don’t want to either.’

‘Can I ask why?’

‘Yeah, she only went and did it with my partner. Egging him on all the time – letting him see her tits. Little slut. She thought I couldn’t see it. But, I’ve got eyes ain’t I? I’ve got ears.’

‘So your partner?’

‘Kicked him out and her – both of them. Caught them at it, you know. They thought I was working the late shift, but I knew, you see – I knew, and I just pretended to go work. Fooled them, didn’t I? Silly twats.’ Regina puffed furiously. ‘Caught them in the noddy, fucking – fucking in my bed no less. Gave them a bloody good hiding. Threw them out, didn’t I?’

‘So you have no idea where she might be?’

‘No, and don’t want to – the little fucker.’

‘Regina, have you any photos of Delle?’

‘Yeah, I stashed them away. Couldn’t bear the sight of her or him.’

Turning, she pointed to a sideboard drawer. ‘Save me getting up, just get one out of the sideboard over there. Pick any you want. ‘

Dove rose and walked over, pulling open the top drawer to see piles of paper, cards, keys, cigarette packets, and photos. Sorting through the muddle, she picked out a photo of a young girl, her pretty face tanned, long black hair waving over her shoulders. As she brought it back, Regina said, ‘Yeah, that was in Lanzarote – the ungrateful little shit.’

Examining the photo, Redd said, ‘Pretty girl, how old is she now?’

‘Twenty-one. Why?’

Redd evaded the question. ‘Can I borrow this?’

‘Yeah, I ain’t got no use for it.’

‘Did Delle have any boyfriends her own age?’

‘Nah, she was too busy fucking my partner.’

‘Regina, do you mind if we have a look at her room?’

‘Look me friends call me Reggie. Don’t like Regina; it rhymes with you know what?’ She winked at him, her hand going to her hair, the piggy eyes flirtatious. ‘It’s just across the hall, wait a moment; I’ll show yer.’

As she struggled again to rise from the chair, Dove watched the humungous breasts wobble over a huge stomach, the legs opening. She rushed forward, putting a hand on the woman’s arm. ‘No, you sit there now, Reggie; we’ll manage thank you.’

Smiling, Reggie collapsed back in the chair. ‘Thanks – yer a mate you are.’

Redd managed a smile. ‘Thanks, Reggie.’

Disgusted, Dove followed him to the bedroom. Once there, they gazed up at posters of heavy-metal bands. Looking at the black duvet with scarlet lace frills and black lace pillows, she noticed a large mirror on the far wall, facing the bed. Moving to the dressing table top, small and white with gilt handles, they searched through potions, lotions, perfumes, and makeup. Picking up a bright crimson lipstick, Redd pocketed it whilst Dove plucked at black hairs on the hairbrush. ‘Hair roots guv.’ Reaching for her handbag, she pulled out a plastic exhibits bag. Sealing it, she said, ‘These should help with the DNA.’

Redd’s eyes scoured the small bedroom. ‘Let’s hope she’s left us some leads. A photo or DNA of Dave Baker would be handy.’ He pulled out the top drawer and carried it to the bed, emptied out the contents onto the duvet, and went to a chest of drawers. Together they searched through combs, hairgrips, scrunchies, bits of paper, a couple of tampons packets, and a half-used packet of birth pills.

Holding them up, Dove murmured, ‘She did leave in a hurry.’

Shaking his head, Redd went to the second drawer, emptying the contents onto the bed.

Sorting through panties, thongs, bras, and tights, Dove said, ‘Some of these things are new, look – not been used, the price tickets are still on these three tops. Mahoney was right; if the victim is Delle, she was petite. These are a size eight.’

Redd held up a thong, a slip of red lace. ‘Shame, too small for Reggie, not that she would wear them anyway.’

Dove felt her face flushing, but on seeing his broad grin, he giggled, realizing he’d seen it all. They searched through more sweaters and nightwear consisting of flimsy tops and knickers – again, no sign of a lead. Lifting out the last pair of tights, Dove picked up a frayed pink ticket. ‘Look, Guv – might be something here.’ Reading the small print, she said, ‘It’s “Saturdays,” a nightclub on the pier. I know the place. You have to be a member to get in.’

Redd’s jaw bunched. ‘If this is our girl, then we’ve got a lead.’

Dove began re-filling the drawers. ‘Better put these back tidily.’

Walking back into the smoke-filled lounge, Redd sat down on the chair, looking steadily at Regina. ‘I wonder if you could help us a bit further, Reggie. Do you know of any distinguishing marks on Delle’s body?’

The colour drained from the woman’s face. ‘Wot d’you mean?’

‘Well, any marks that might help us to possibly—’

‘You’re talking about the couple in the papers, ain’t yer?’

‘Your daughter may be able to help us in our enquiries.’

The woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’d better be telling me the truth, mate.’ She lit up another cigarette, her hand slightly shaking. ‘Well, she ain’t got a mark on her; she has lovely skin – little minx.’

Dove noticed a tone of protection creeping into Reggie’s voice.

Walking to the car, she said, ‘That was difficult.’

Redd nodded, ‘You can’t drag every possible witness in to view a headless body. If it is Delle’s body, then we know she’s only recently had the tattoos.’

‘You think the unsubs did those?’

Dove said, ‘I think Reggie loves that girl.’

Redd frowned. ‘Did you notice how tidy Delle’s bedroom was? Neat, the carpet pristine clean, not a mark on the dressing table or chest of drawers.’

‘Yes, she’d kept everything too. However, the rest of the flat was a pit.’

‘Just shows, doesn’t it, for all Reggie’s hate talk, that room is ready for Delle to return.’

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t become a shrine.’

Seeing the boys still sitting on the curb near the car, Redd took out the peaked cap from his pocket. ‘Here – thanks.’

Seeing another five-pound note in the cap, the boy grinned. ‘Thanks, Guv – that’s sick.’

The other boy beamed. ‘Cool – just cool.’

Once seated, Dove said, ‘That was good of you. The trouble is, it will most probably pay for their next fix.’

‘It’s insurance. I might have to park the car here again.’

Redd listened to the engine purr into life. ‘The ticket to “Saturdays,” get DC Green and DC Crosby on that – check out the night club – the photo will help.’

As the car pulled out of the estate, Dove said, ‘Shame we can’t take Reggie to the mortuary – might be something to identify her.’

‘We haven’t got enough evidence for that. We can’t subject the woman to viewing a headless corpse until we’re more sure.’


Copyright.

No part of this book may be stored, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Katy Walters

All rights reserved



Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

Available Chapters!

Death Marks: Chapter 9

Death Marks: Chapter 9

Back again after a very busy time. Uncompromising, gritty, thrilling, and not for the faint hearted! British detectives suspect a serial killer is on the loose. With the support of American profiler Dr Tessa Davies, they soon realize that this could be the work of a druidic sect.

Please enjoy another chapter of my dark crime novel, Death Marks . For now, I will post a chapter every Monday and Thursday.

Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

All Available Chapters!


Death Marks

Chapter 9

Under any other circumstances, Redd would have enjoyed the journey. Within minutes of leaving Brighton, he drove through the Downs’ verdant countryside, the fields rising up to forested peaks of hills. The Weald had a bloody history, the land of the Celts invaded by Romans. In the fourth century, after the decline of the Roman Empire, England’s shores became vulnerable to hordes of vicious Picts, followed by the Scots. Only the tyrannical Vortigern, leader of the Anglo Saxons, stood between freedom and annihilation. It was a dark period of history, where King Arthur’s name floated through the jetsam of blood and bone.

The cool tones from the GPS instructed him to turn into Meads Way. Many townies would give their eyeteeth for such a setting. He pulled up outside a thatched cottage that slumbered into the earth. Cows from the field opposite trotted up to the fence, their calm brown eyes inquisitive, tails twitching away flies. Scents of lavender wafted towards him as he opened a decrepit gate. Tufts of grass and buttercups sprouting up through edges of the flagstones.

The front door charmed him; the blackened old oak held a stained-glass window depicting a biblical theme, Adam and Noah clad in white, blue, and brown robes looking contemplatively towards green hills. The whole scene instilled a sense of peace, serenity even, contrasting with the profiler’s gruesome occupation.

The door opened before he could pull the wrought-iron pulley. Redd looked down into their eyes the colour of dark chocolate, pale skin with the slightest hint of peach in her cheeks, contrasted with her ebony hair waving over her shoulders.

Grinning, she said, ‘You found us, come in.’

As he went to step forward, he heard a deep bark coming from the side of the cottage. Turning, he saw a blur of black and white, as a massive dog bolted towards him, grinding to a halt, just a foot away as she called out, ‘Sweetpea, stop it now.’

‘Sweetpea? The dog was a monster. Trying to look unconcerned, he silently followed her into a tiny flagstone porch, barely three feet by three feet. Leading him through the red quarry-tiled passageway, the lime and wattle walls looked fresh with white plaster. As she showed him into a large lounge, his gaze went to the inglenook fireplace, the lintel being one huge oak beam sagging to one side. The air was lightly scented with bunches of dried lavender and sweet-smelling herbs hanging in bunches from overhead beams. She waved to one of the overfilled chintz chairs and a small settee. Brightly coloured rag rugs lay strewn across the quarry stone tiles. ‘Do sit down, anywhere you like. Won’t be a sec.’

As she left the room, he looked at Sweetpea, who gazed back, panting. Shaking his huge head, he stooped and began licking the carpet. Frowning, Redd watched; why was he doing that? Maybe, there was some old food there or something. Hearing her re-enter, he tried to give some kind of smile that he was sure looked twisted.

Looking at the dog, she said, ‘Sweetpea, stop it.’ The dog took no notice and began licking furiously nearer to Redd’s feet. ‘I said, stop it. Do you want to be put out?’

Redd wished the dog could speak that he would say yes.

Crossing her arms, she went up to the dog and, without speaking, stood down looking at him; Sweetpea looked up and stopped immediately. They seemed to have some kind of telepathic rapport. After a few seconds of eyeballing, Sweetpea loped over to the couch and bounded up in one movement, groaning as he settled his head on his paws.

Seeing the question in Redd’s eyes, she said, ‘He shares everything. He’s a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog, nearly two years old now. They have to be one of the family, almost in constant physical touch.’ Standing opposite him, she looked down at her top, the pale pink cotton jersey smudged with dirt and grass stains. ‘I’d better go and change. Can I get you a cup of coffee – tea?’

He wished he could go with her, help her change her top. Instead, he said, ‘Coffee would be great, thank you.’

‘It’s instant – Gold Blend.’

‘That’ll do fine.’

‘Sugar? Milk or cream?

‘I’ll have milk, and sugar please.’

‘Won’t be a sec.’

Leaving the room again, she left the door ajar. He took a wary glance at Sweetpea, who lay watching him, his brown eyes gentle. The dog became aware that Redd was looking at him, his tail thumped, as he got down from the couch. Redd knew that sometimes dogs wagged their tails in anger.


Copyright.

No part of this book may be stored, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Katy Walters

All rights reserved



Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

Available Chapters!

Death Marks: Chapter 8

Death Marks: Chapter 8

Uncompromising, gritty, thrilling, and not for the faint hearted! British detectives suspect a serial killer is on the loose. With the support of American profiler Dr Tessa Davies, they soon realize that this could be the work of a druidic sect.

Please enjoy another chapter of my dark crime novel, Death Marks . For now, I will post a chapter every Monday and Thursday.

Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

All Available Chapters!


Death Marks

Chapter 8

‘Now, blood types. David Baker’s is type ‘0’, and the female is type ‘AB.’ Both were in good health, judging from the organs. The stomach contents revealed they ingested salmon, potatoes, and a salad of lettuce, cucumber, tomatoes, and so on. Here’s the strange bit. The report says both victims ingested a herb known as Salvia Divinorum; it’s referred to as Diviner’s or Seer’s Sage. It is a hallucinatory drug, a psychoactive plant. To be precise, it’s a potent κ-opioid and D2 receptor agonist with low toxicity and low addictive potential.

Dove raised her pen. ‘I didn’t know sage was a drug.’

‘This is a cousin of the herb, can grow to a meter in height. The information I’ve gathered originated in a cloud forest in Sierra Mazateca de Oaxaca, in Mexico, now it’s worldwide.  Here’s the twist, the unsubs have added a cocktail of agents, making it highly toxic and addictive. Therefore, it’s a bloody dangerous mix and can produce powerful visions and hallucinations.’

Dove felt her stomach churn. ‘Christ. I wonder if they took it willingly.’

Scratching his head, Jack said, ‘it produces hallucinations, but why give it to the victims? I would have thought the perps would be more likely to take it. The crimes seem to fit the drug. Hallucinations, delusions. Strange.’

Dove said, ‘they must have an expert chemist to be able to do the mix.’

Jack muttered, ‘so far, we have a surgeon and a chemist.’

Redd raised his eyebrows. ‘Could be your local pharmacist.’

Dove read over her notes so far. ‘Can anyone grow this? Is it like cannabis?’

‘It reproduces vegetatively, meaning it will root where it bends over and meets the ground, same as the yew trees. Easy then to get cuttings and grow it. It rarely produces seeds.’

Redd nodded. ‘It’s all over the net – plants, seeds, joint rolls – very cheap too.’

‘Surely it’s against the law if it’s a psychoactive drug?’

Redd said, ‘it seems there were some moves towards the legislation of the drug. In 2005 in an Early Day Motion, an MP moved to ban Salvia Divinorum. However, it only received eleven signatures. Somebody raised in October 2008. That had 18 signatures. It seems an MP also wrote to the Home Secretary at the time. Subsequently, the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs was asked to look into the matter. It seems the drug is in line with other k-opioid agonists and has therapeutic potential and can aid in cocaine addiction.’

Dove raised her head from her writing. ‘So, it’s controversial then? I would have thought with it being non-addictive, it would not ring the alarm bells.’

Redd nodded. ‘I got this information from HOLMES 2; one director of a national health screening program said it could be useful in a whole range of diseases, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, depression, AIDS and HIV.’

Leaning back in the recliner, Jack said, ‘makes you wonder what the perps were up to. Why drug them? Fuck it, doesn’t make sense.’

Redd shook his head. ‘We’ve got to comb the websites, get lists of customers and their addresses.’

Dove frowned. ‘Boss, there’ll be hundreds, thousands.’

‘Exactly, get the teams on it. Get DS Williams and Papworth; they’re the computer bugs.

Jack said, ‘now, the bones. Why include them in the crime scene? They’re definitely over two hundred years, possibly older, male and female.’

Dove wrinkled her forehead. ‘I’ll get Bessie Owen and Mack O’Connell on that. I think it would be best to concentrate on the older churches in the district.’

Jack said. ‘I can’t understand why they bleached them. Leaving an old, rough parchment scroll points to a cult.’

Redd nodded. ‘Generally, killers don’t leave a specific note.’

‘Only when they’re escalating, then they do.’ Jack grimaced. ‘Changing the subject, have you assigned a profiler yet?’

‘Dr. Timmins was supposed to take it on, but he’s undergoing tests at the hospital, possible spleen trouble. I tried the one at Worthing, but she’s completely booked up. Debbie did recommend a profiler who’s breaking new ground. She’s been away for a few days, but she should be back now. It seems she’s got a new approach to profiling, helped out on a couple of cases with the FBI.’

‘And that is?’

‘Not sure. Something about a symbolic perspective, but as long as it works!

‘So have you got her number? I’ll get on to it straightaway.’ Jack rose from the recliner. ‘Yeah, I’ll write it down for you. Have` you got a pen and paper?’

Redd pushed over his pen and handed him a notepad.

‘Thanks.’ On scribbling down the name and number, Jack rose to his feet. ‘I’d better be off then. See you.’

Redd nodded as he buzzed Michelle. ‘Would you get hold of a Dr. Davies? She’s on this number.’ He spelled it out. ‘She won’t know me, so just give her my name and rank and tell her it’s urgent; I speak with her. Then put her through to me. If she’s not there, leave a message explaining I need to speak to her urgently.’ Okay?’

‘Yes, sir, I’m on it.’

As he waited, he realized he was gritting his teeth. The case was a mess; he just hoped the profiler could make sense of it. He sighed with relief as he heard a soft voice with an American accent. ‘Hi there, Dr. Davies, you wanted to speak to me?’ 

‘Hello, Detective Chief Inspector Daniel Redd here, Brighton Police Headquarters, our Counselor Ms. Debbie Stamp recommended you.’

‘Ah yes, I’ve just returned from Warwick. Debbie did phone me about you some days ago. I was going to contact you.  How can I help?’

‘Better if I explain in person, it’s complicated. Could we meet up?’

‘Yes, of course, when’s convenient for you?’

‘How about tomorrow morning?’

‘Ten-thirty tomorrow morning be okay?’

 ‘Fine. I’ll need your address.’

It’s in the Downs, Tatbourne, Hyde Cottage, Meads Way. You can’t miss it; it’s the only cottage down the lane – fields either side.’

‘I’ll find it with the GPS.’


Copyright.

No part of this book may be stored, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Katy Walters

All rights reserved



Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

Available Chapters!

Death Marks: Chapter 7

Death Marks: Chapter 7

Uncompromising, gritty, thrilling, and not for the faint hearted! British detectives suspect a serial killer is on the loose. With the support of American profiler Dr Tessa Davies, they soon realize that this could be the work of a druidic sect.

Please enjoy another chapter of my dark crime novel, Death Marks . For now, I will post a chapter every Monday and Thursday.

Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

All Available Chapters!


Death Marks

Chapter 7

Redd picked up the phone. ‘Dove here. I just got back from Saturdays. The place was packed, but no-one seems to have seen or heard of Delle and the Baker boy.’

‘Okay, thanks.’

He put down the phone drumming his fingers on the desk. Time was going on; they had to get a break. His face lit up when he saw the young PC carrying brown envelopes with the forensics insignia. After two hours of studying the reports, Redd groaned, putting his head in his hands. Stabbing the intercom button, he said, ‘Michelle, get Cummings and Dove in here pronto. Contact Dr. Patterson in Toxicology; I need to speak to him urgently.’

Michelle came back almost immediately, ‘I was just about to ring Dr. Patterson when the Deputy Chief Constable came on the line, sir.’

‘Okay, Michelle, put him through.’

‘Dan, it’s one hell of a case. I see you need the DNA of the Woodhouse girl in a hurry.’

‘Yes, sir, we interviewed the mother. One interesting point, the girl, must have had the tattoos done after leaving home. I’m wondering if the unsubs did them, some ritual.’

‘The case gets weirder. Good work getting the hair roots. I’ve already been on to Dr. Patterson. He knows the case has top priority. We need to get those results through in forty-eight hours, even if his team has to sleep at the lab. So send the samples off to him by special courier.’

‘Bill, I have to square it with Titmouse. The budget…?

‘Leave that to me. Forget Titmouse; he’s a pain in the arse.’

‘Thanks, that’s a relief.’

‘We’ve got to kill this quickly. I can see large-scale panic if we don’t; damn bunch of psychopaths.’

‘Got everyone on it, Bill. All overtime canceled, officers working twelve-hour shifts. The Incident Room is up and running; the teams are working non-stop.’

‘Sounds like it could turn serial.’

‘I’ve contacted other branches as to similar crimes. DS Williams went back five years on HOLMES2, and he’s combing it every day. If there is anything comparable, we’ll know. Papworth is searching Interpol.’

‘Good – let’s hope it’s contained to the UK.’

‘I’ll phone Patterson now, sir.’

‘Keep at it; anything you need, just let me know.’

Putting down the phone, Redd breathed a sigh of relief. At least, he had the DCC on his side; Titmouse was murmuring about Seaton assisting. He didn’t need that louse crawling in his hair. The investigating teams were already in full throttle. As Jack was also helping on the case, it made for a good excuse.

Pressing the intercom, he said, ‘Michelle, try Dr. Patterson now. ‘Will do, sir.’

Minutes later, Michelle buzzed. ‘Dr. Patterson for you, sir.’

‘Great, put him through.’ Redd switched the phone to the loudspeaker, leaving him free to write notes. ‘Hello doctor, just been speaking to the DDC; he tells me he’s already discussed the case with you.’

Although suffering from chronic osteoarthritis, Patterson was well beyond retirement, making it almost impossible to walk; he scooted around the labs in an electric wheelchair. ‘Hi Redd, yes, the DCC has been onto me. Bloody awful crime. There are some right monsters out there. You want the DNA results on Delle Woodhouse, as of yesterday?’

‘Yes, but first, I’ve just been through the reports on the victims. We managed to find some root hairs from the girl’s hairbrush and a used tube of lipstick. Let’s hope the DNA matches the victim. This is one bugger of a case; perps are pure evil.’

‘The DCC is pulling out all the guns. I’ll go over to the lab personally. We should get it through in three days tops – Saturday?’

Knowing it usually took weeks to get the DNA test through, Redd grinned. ‘Brilliant. My thanks, now I’m going to go through the reports with Jack and Dove. Hope to hear from you soon.’

As he put down the phone, Dove entered with Jack following.

‘Come in, I’ve been through the toxicology reports, and I think there is a glimmering of a lead, but the whole case is bizarre. Sit yourselves down; we’re in for a long haul.’

Taking a chair, Dove took out her notepad whilst Jack dragged the recliner forward. ‘Might as well make myself comfortable. So, anything?’

‘Forensics managed to lift a fingerprint from the bark of one of the yew trees on the site. The only thing is, Papworth ran it through HOLMES2, and there is no match. All we have to do now is find the hand.’

Dove grimaced. ‘Let’s hope it’s still attached to the body.’

‘Maybe they’ll start dissecting each other.’ Jack muttered. I’ve phoned Edward Patterson, and he’s promised to do DNA testing on Delle’s hair roots and lipstick together with the DNA from the body in the morgue. We’ll have the results Saturday, hopefully. If the DNA of both of them marries up, you can get the mother to identify Delle’s body.


Copyright.

No part of this book may be stored, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Katy Walters

All rights reserved



Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

Available Chapters!

Death Marks: Chapter 6

Death Marks: Chapter 6

Uncompromising, gritty, thrilling, and not for the faint hearted! British detectives suspect a serial killer is on the loose. With the support of American profiler Dr Tessa Davies, they soon realize that this could be the work of a druidic sect.

Please enjoy another chapter of my dark crime novel, Death Marks . For now, I will post a chapter every Monday and Thursday.

Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

All Available Chapters!


Death Marks

Chapter 6

Keeping his face composed, Redd nodded. ‘Mrs. Woodhouse? May we come in?’

Opening the door wider, the woman grimaced. ‘I suppose you’d betta.’ She led them down a narrow passageway through to the lounge. Dove wrinkled her nose at the stench of unflushed toilets, cigarettes, and fragmented joints, let alone clumps of dirty clothes strewn over chairs. They stepped around plates with the remains of last night’s takeaway.

‘Sorry about the mess, ain’t got around to cleaning yet.’ She fiddled with the ponytail. Dove hovered by the door, not wanting to sit down, while Redd sat on a wooden dining chair.

Fumbling in a pocket in her leggings, the woman pulled out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Want one?’

Redd smiled, ‘no thanks’

Grunting, she reached over for the cigarette lighter. Dove’s eyes widened as Regina’s short skirt rode up to reveal a naked crotch. Oh, God, couldn’t the woman cover herself up. ‘Want a cuppa?’

Dove glanced through to the kitchen, at the sink piled high with dirty dishes, ‘No thank you, I’ve only just had one.’ Shaking his head, Redd muttered something about not being thirsty.

Leaning forward, he said, ‘Regina, can I call you Regina?’

The woman, busy sucking down smoke, nodded.

‘We want to talk to your daughter Delle.’

‘She ain’t my daughter no more, little slag.’

Redd frowned, ‘I see. Do you know where Delle is?’

‘Nah, ain’t seen her in months. Don’t want to either.’

‘Why is that?’

‘She only went and did it with my partner. Little slut.’

 ‘So where is your partner?’

‘Kicked ‘im out and her, both of them. They thought I was working the late shift, but I just pretended to go to work. Silly twats.’ Regina puffed furiously. ‘Fucking in me bed, Gave them a bloody good hiding. Threw ‘em out, didn’t I?’

‘So you have no idea where she might be?’

‘No, and don’t want to – the little bitch.’

‘Regina, have you any photos of Delle?’

‘Yeah, I stashed ‘em away. Couldn’t bear the sight of ‘em.’

Getting up, she went to the sideboard, opening the top drawer, bringing out a photo of a young girl, her pretty face tanned, long black hair waving over her shoulders. As she brought it back, Regina said, ‘Yeah, that was in Lanzarote, the ungrateful little shit.’

Examining the photo, Redd said, how old is she now?’

‘Twenty-one. Why?’

Redd evaded the question. ‘Can I borrow this?’

‘Yeah, I ain’t got no use for it.’

‘Did Delle have any boyfriends her age?’

‘Nah, she was too busy fucking my partner.’

‘Regina, do you mind if we have a look at her room?’

‘Call me Reggie. Don’t like Regina; it rhymes with you know what?’ She winked at him, her hand going to her hair. ‘It’s just across the hall, wait a moment; I’ll show yer.’

As she struggled again to rise from the chair, Dove watched the legs opening. She rushed forward, putting a hand on the woman’s arm. ‘No, you sit there now, Reggie; we’ll manage thank you.’

Redd managed a smile. ‘Thanks, Reggie.’

Dove followed him to the bedroom. They gazed up at posters of heavy-metal bands. Looking at the black duvet with scarlet lace frills and black lace pillows, she noticed a large mirror on the far wall, facing the bed. Moving to the dressing table top, small and white with gilt handles, they searched through potions, lotions, perfumes, and makeup. Picking up a bright crimson lipstick, Redd pocketed it, while Dove plucked at black hairs on the hairbrush. Reaching for her handbag, she pulled out a plastic exhibits bag. Sealing it, she said, ‘These should help with the DNA.’

Redd’s eyes scoured the small bedroom. ‘Let’s hope she’s left us some leads. A photo or DNA of Dave Baker would be handy.’ He pulled out the top drawer and carried it to the bed, emptied out the contents onto the duvet, and went to a chest of drawers. Together they searched through combs, hairgrips, tickets, tampons, and a half-used packet of birth pills.

Holding them up, Dove murmured, ‘She did leave in a hurry.’

Shaking his head, Redd went to the second drawer, emptying the contents onto the bed.

Sorting through panties, thongs, bras, and tights, Dove said, ‘Mahoney was right if the victim is Delle, she was petite. These are a size eight.’

They searched through more sweaters and nightwear consisting of sheer tops again, no sign of a lead. Lifting out the last pair of tights, Dove picked up a frayed pink ticket. ‘Look, Guv might be something here.’ Reading the small print, she said, ‘it’s “Saturdays,” a nightclub on the pier. I know the place. You have to be a member to get in.’

Redd’s jaw bunched. ‘Right, let’s go.’

After replacing everything in the drawers, they returned to the smoke-filled lounge; Redd sat down on the chair, looking steadily at Regina. ‘I wonder if you could help us a bit further, Reggie. Do you know of any distinguishing marks on Delle’s body?’

The color drained from the woman’s face. ‘Wot d’you mean?’

‘Well, any marks that might help us to possibly—’

‘You’re talking about the couple in the papers, ain’t yer?’

‘Your daughter may be able to help us in our inquiries. ‘

The woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’d better be telling me the truth, mate.’ She lit up another cigarette, her hand slightly shaking. ‘Well, she ain’t got a mark on her; she has lovely skin, little minx.’

Dove noticed a tone of protection creeping into Reggie’s voice. Walking to the car, she said, ‘that was difficult.’

Redd nodded. ‘You can’t drag every possible witness in to view a headless body. If it is Delle’s body, then we know she’s only recently had the tattoos.’

‘You think the unsubs did those?’

‘Could be. Redd frowned. ‘Did you notice how tidy Delle’s bedroom was? Neat, the carpet pristine clean, not a mark on the dressing table or chest of drawers.’

‘Yes, she’d kept everything too. However, the rest of the flat was a pit.’

‘Just shows, doesn’t it, for all Reggie’s hate talk, that room is ready for Delle to return.’

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t become a shrine.’

Seeing the boys still sitting on the curb near the car, Redd took out the peaked cap from his pocket. ‘Here, thanks.’

Seeing another five-pound note in the cap, the boy grinned. ‘Thanks, Guv, that’s sick.’


Copyright.

No part of this book may be stored, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Katy Walters

All rights reserved



Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

Available Chapters!

Death Marks: Chapter 5

Death Marks: Chapter 5

Uncompromising, gritty, thrilling, and not for the faint hearted! British detectives suspect a serial killer is on the loose. With the support of American profiler Dr Tessa Davies, they soon realize that this could be the work of a druidic sect.

Please enjoy another chapter of my dark crime novel, Death Marks . For now, I will post a chapter every Monday and Thursday.

Other Chapters

Don’t worry if you miss any chapters, since you will find links to other posted chapters here:

All Available Chapters!


Death Marks

Chapter 5

The Present

Frustrated, Redd pushed the file to one side. He looked up, as Dove in a fresh blue top matching the denim skirt, entered the office. His voice tense, he said, ‘It’s nearly four days now. Forensics are taking their bloody time.’

Tiredness painted violet shadows beneath her eyes. ‘The teams are searching the hills around the forest, boss, got the  Chichester stations on it as well; then there are volunteers going over every blade of grass.’

‘What about O’Connell and Owen?’

‘They’ve covered all the dives, massage parlors, brothels, and the surrounding districts; Brighton, Littlehampton, Bognor, Chichester, bugger all. It seems we’re dealing with ghosts.’

‘People are zipping up. Don’t want to draw attention; these are vicious killers.’

‘Yeah, even the snitches don’t wanna know.’

‘Christ, you’d think with such grisly murders, there’d be someone with a conscience.’

‘Everyone’s scared, stiff, Sir. I mean entrails? Sounds like a voodoo sacrifice. People don’t want to be seen talking to the Plod. It might be their head rolling in the Downs. ‘

‘Yeah, it isn’t in the papers yet, but everyone knows. At least we’ve managed to keep the decapitations under wraps. Jack’s checking out the mobsters and gang leaders. He speaks the language.’

‘Prossies just button up when you go near them. Uniforms say they’re frightened; they don’t want their knee caps broken.’

As Dove handed him a steaming cup of coffee, he said, ‘chase toxicology, they promised they’d rush it through, what the fuck’s wrong with them, got their heads up their arses?’

Dove remained silent, now used to the boss’s flare-ups. ‘It’s as silent as a graveyard out there.’

‘Yeah. Four days and nothing. I thought with the Baker boy we might be getting somewhere.’

The internal phone buzzed. ‘Huh, Michele. Yes?’

Dove listened on the intercom. ‘Guv, the desk has a woman on the line. Says she knows the Baker boy met a new girl.’

Redd glanced over to Dove, giving a thumbs up, his eyes brightening. ‘Put her on.’

The girl’s voice held a tremor as she spoke over the intercom. ‘You the dick in charge of the murder case?’

‘Yes, speaking.’

‘Well, I knew the guy who got done in, my friend went to a night-club with him. I have not seen her around for about a week or so, you know. I’m getting worried.’

‘Have you her name and address?’

‘Delle Woodhouse, Trevelyan Heights, Flat 6. St. George’s Block.’

Redd grabbed a pen, scribbling it down. ‘Okay, thank you and your name and address, please.’

The girl’s voice rose; her fear was evident. ‘I told the plod on the desk I ain’t giving out my name and stuff. I’m only trying to help.’

‘We’ll only contact you if it’s necessary, okay?

‘Alright, Tracy Thomas. 12 Coxgrove Street, Brighton.’

‘We’ll need your phone and cell numbers, please.’ The phone went dead. ‘Damn. She’s put the phone down on me.’ Dialing through to the desk, he said, ‘Trace that call I just had, Sergeant.’

Looking at Dove, he said, ‘bet she gave a false address. Fuck. Let’s get going.’ Pushing his chair back, Redd reached for his jacket.

‘I expect her cell was a throwaway.’

Trevelyan Heights was the product of a nanny government scheme. Once the Town Council’s joy, it was the dream of some anal-retentive architect from the seventies. His idea of outré design being a rectangular box wrapped in concrete. The trailblazing squares and angles now jutted out stark and grey, the cracked plaster-like barnacles on a dead whale.

Getting out of the car, Redd looked over the sleek lines of his pride and joy, an Audi A6 Coupe, brilliant black. He wanted it to remain bright black, so he sauntered over to a couple of teenagers sitting on the kerb, their hands swiftly disappearing into pockets, faces contorted, as they tried to swallow the smoke. Redd smiled, his expression bland, as he smelt the cannabis. ‘Hey, want to earn a fiver – just watch the wheels, okay?’

The kid with a number one haircut and bum fluff goatee screwed up his eyes; the obligatory peaked cap pulled down to his eyes. ‘You having a laugh? Tenner more like it.’

Raising his eyebrows, Redd held out the fiver. ‘Last chance.’

The kid stood up, hand outstretched, the fiver disappearing into his top pocket. As Redd turned, he swiftly whipped off the boy’s cap and grabbed his wrist looking at the tattoo that marked him as a Red Cut Gang member. ‘Just for insurance.’

As they walked away, Dove heard the boy say, ‘Fucking filth, do his fucking car in.’

Dove muttered, ‘should have given the little bastards a tenner.’

Redd shook his head, waving the cap. ‘Nah, they know we’re police; they won’t chance me hauling them in.’

After ringing the bell twice, the peeling blue painted door remained closed. Dove looked through the small window covered with a grimy net curtain. ‘Someone’s just turned down the sound on the TV.’

Ringing again, Redd flicked open the letterbox. ‘Open up, police.’

Silence reigned. Irritated, Redd shouted again, ‘Look, we know you’re in there. Come on, open up.’

Hearing shuffling footsteps, they stood back as the door opened. A woman in her late thirties, with thinning brown hair dragged back in a ponytail, peered at them, ‘Yeah?’

‘Chief Inspector Redd and Detective Sergeant Dove. We need to speak to you.’

‘You wanna ask about that slag of a daughter of mine, don’cha?’


Copyright.

No part of this book may be stored, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Katy Walters

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