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    See How She Runs
    See How She Runs
    See How She Runs
    Ebook134 pages1 hour

    See How She Runs

    By Milly Reynolds

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    About this ebook

    When, a week before the annual Flower Parade, a bull gets hit by a car, Detective Inspector Mike Malone initially thinks that it is an unfortunate accident. However, when he is told that the bull sustained injuries inconsistent with a car accident, he realises that once again he has a murder to solve. With the crowds gathering in the town ahead of the busy weekend, Mike realises that he has no time to lose. The investigation takes an unexpected turn when a second murder is committed, seemingly by the town's most unlikely criminal; Mike needs his wits about him to solve the crime especially as his Detective Sergeant, Alan Shepherd, has other things on his mind. Then a local farmer's wife goes missing.

    Another tongue-in-cheek mystery in the popular Mike Malone series.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMilly Reynolds
    Release dateAug 28, 2014
    ISBN9781311112200
    See How She Runs
    Author

    Milly Reynolds

    As you may have already guessed, Milly Reynolds is not my real name. Like my 'hero' Detective Inspector Mike Malone, I also hide my real identity. Having 'retired' from my job, I was a full-time teacher in a secondary school, I decided to pursue my dream of becoming a writer. So why Mike Malone? I love all things detective and wanted to create my own series. However, I decided not to go for the deep, dark thriller - I could never compete with the masters of that genre, like Jo Nesbo whose books I adore? Therefore I came to the decision that the Mike Malone series would be off-beat. I like to think that there is humour in my books; I don't want to scare people, I want to make them chuckle - there is not enough laughter in the world at the moment. As the series has progressed, I have become very attached to Mike; he is the comfortable pair of slippers that I put on at night. My husband has also become attached to Fi and I am under strict instructions not to let anything happen to her - yet. Living in Lincolnshire, I love the flat, endless landscapes and want these to be seen in my books alongside places that I know and love. Mike Malone has moved from the city to Lincolnshire and has fallen in love with the place; me, I was born here and can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be. However, although Mike was my first creation, he is not the only one. I have also created Jack Sallt, another Detective Inspector. Jack is grittier than Mike and there is not the humour in his stories that there is in the Mike Malone stories. I wanted to write a more 'grown-up' detective story. When time allows this will be developed into a series as well. With two male detectives under my wing, I also decided that it was time for the girls to take centre stage and 'Scorpion's Tale', my first novel featuring Liv Harris, a character in the Jack Sallt novels, was published in 2013. I am hoping that Liv will make another appearance at some point in the future. Not content with crime, I have also wandered into the realms of romance; my first stand-alone novel 'The Unseen Sky' was published August 2011. I'm lucky, I enjoy writing and find it just as relaxing to sit and create as it is to read, although sometimes a good book can get in the way of my writing. I read on average 50/60 books a year and always keep my blog updated with reviews. Anyway, I hope you like my novels. I have fun coming up with ideas for Mike -...

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      Book preview

      See How She Runs - Milly Reynolds

      Prologue

      As Simon Leavesly turned off the main road, his mind was on the Sunday lunch that would be waiting for him. Sarah had almost pushed him out of the house earlier, ordering him to go to the squash club so that she could get on undisturbed. Poor Sarah, a visit from her parents always sent her into a mad panic; nothing she did ever met her mother's incredibly high standards. Even him. He remembered the first time that he had been introduced to Jocelyn Groves. Beneath the welcoming smile had been layer upon layer of disappointment. A lowly solicitor in a tiny rural market town! Whatever was Sarah thinking of? It was a good job that he had a skin as thick as a rhino hide. Not a single one of Jocelyn's barbs had hit home. Not then and not now. With or without her approval, the wedding would go ahead in July.

      As he manoeuvred his sports car around the tight bend, what he saw approaching him made him question his own eyesight. Thundering down the lane towards him was a huge bull, its hide glistening in the soft April sun. Simon felt his heart begin to race. Would the bull swerve and miss him, or charge? Why had he chosen a red car? Bulls hated red, didn’t they? Deciding that in this instance flight was the wisest option, Simon rammed the gear stick into reverse and stalled the engine. Panic leapt onto his shoulder as he looked into the wild eyes of the charging leviathan while frantically pulling at the door handle. Too late. He heard the bonnet of his beautiful car crinkle like tissue paper as he was pushed, unceremoniously, off the road and into the ditch.

      1

      I closed my eyes and sighed deeply. This was a perfect Sunday; Fi had gone to the gym and I had the morning to myself for once. Even Shepherd and Cat were not dropping in for lunch today. Not that I minded them coming over. As much as I enjoyed our 'family' Sunday roasts, it was so nice not to have to bother to get dressed on a Sunday morning. It was a guilty pleasure to stretch out across the sofa, dressed only in my boxers and my dressing gown, and read the papers in perfect peace. After all, next weekend all peace would be cancelled. Next weekend was the annual Flower Parade when my quiet little town would be over-run with coaches, day-trippers and borrowed police officers from other forces; when I would be pushed into the role of a general marshalling my troops to ensure that everything went smoothly; when every spare piece of land was turned into a car-park or a caravan park. So, a peaceful weekend was definitely the order of the day.

      As I lay there, listening to Stravinsky's 'Rite of Spring', my thoughts drifted to Shepherd and Cat whose first child was due at the end of the week. In the few years that I had known them, they had become like my own family. It had been a privilege to watch Cat blossom. Fi and I couldn't wait to welcome the baby into our hearts.

      All in all I was feeling pretty pleased with life. Since our December wedding, after a wonderful Christmas at home with Shepherd and Cat, Fi and I had honeymooned in Venice. Even though the weather hadn't been exactly friendly, the city had welcomed us with open arms and had revealed to us treasures that were usually hidden by crowds of summer visitors; it was truly magical to have the city almost to ourselves. On top of that, Fi had finally managed to sell her house and as soon as the contracts were exchanged on my cottage, we would be moving into a house nestled on the River Glen which had a lovely rambling garden that just needed the sound of a child's laughter to make it complete. The baby would love it. The baby. Cat and Shepherd had taken the decision not to find out the baby's sex; they wanted it to be a surprise. I was hoping for a little boy, Fi was hoping for a little girl. In the end though, it wouldn't matter what sex the baby turned out to be, he – or she – would be showered with love.

      The gentle vibrating of my phone didn't immediately make me think of a shattered Sunday; I just assumed it was Fi phoning to suggest a lunch at The King's Head. That was the reason that I was so cheerful when I answered it only to hear, not Fi's honey-sweet voice, but Grayson's apologetic murmurings dismantle my peaceful Sunday, cushion by cushion by cushion.

      It just charged straight at me. Like a...a...bull. Simon Leavesly gazed sadly at his crumpled car which was huddled into the side of the dyke where it had come to land after being hit by fifteen hundred pounds of solid muscle.

      Poor Simon, I knew how much he doted on his car. It was his pride and joy and he usually spent many happy hours at weekends washing and polishing it. Alas, it would never feel the tender touch of Simon's chamois leather again. The damage was far too extensive. I turned and looked across at the body of the bull which, after charging Simon's car, had come to rest along the opposite grass verge. It's hide, once a rich brown, was now coated with ruby red blood which shimmered under a warm spring sun. So much blood. In fact, I would almost have said too much. And why was there so much blood on the animal's back when the impact was head on? I looked more closely and saw several long, deep gashes across the bull's back. How had they got there? It was a conundrum and only Dan Marshall would be able to solve it for me. I looked along the lane, searching for his familiar green van, but there was no sign of him yet. Still, no worries. The bull wasn’t going anywhere.

      Simon had been very quiet when I had driven him home. Not that I had minded, I was glad of the silence; my thoughts needed time to sort themselves out. Dan Marshall had not, as I had hoped, solved the conundrum of the copious amount of blood along the bull's back. He had twisted the knot even tighter. The bull had not died as a result of colliding with Simon's car as I had, in my naivety, thought. It had died after being stabbed several times. Stabbed! I should have known that nothing in this quiet little part of Lincolnshire was ever going to be simple. The last thing I needed was a murder case, not with the annual Flower Parade around the corner. It was bad for tourism. Hopefully, Flowers would have better news for me when he finished interviewing the residents of those houses that the bull would have charged past on its way to spoil Simon's morning.

      Pulling into the station car-park, I sighed. So much for a nice relaxing Sunday. Grayson looked up sheepishly when I entered the station.

      Morning, Sir.

      Morning, Grayson. Has Flowers reported in yet?

      He's on his way back, Sir.

      Send him in when he gets here.

      I wandered over to my office and sat down miserably. A detour to the kitchen had revealed an empty biscuit tin and no milk. Could this Sunday get any worse?

      You wanted to see me, Sir. Flowers stood in the doorway and I could tell by the expression on his face that I was not going to like his report.

      Did anyone see anything? Ever the optimist, I hadn’t quite cast hope away.

      Sorry, Sir. No one seems to have seen a thing.

      That bull was enormous – someone must have seen it.

      Flowers shook his head, Sorry, Sir, although Tim Harper of Rose Cottage does remember hearing something. But he just thought it was one of the local farmers moving heavy machinery along the lane.

      I suppose it's too much to hope that they noticed anyone acting suspiciously, isn't it?

      A wry smile flicked over Flowers' face. As I said, Sir – no one saw anything.

      Great! Look, ring around the local farmers and see if anyone is missing a bull. If we find out where he came from, maybe a few pieces will fit into this puzzle.

      Flowers left and as the door closed behind him, my stomach started to growl. Dead bull or not, it was lunchtime. I picked up my phone.

      2

      Fi dropped her serviette onto her empty plate and rested back in her chair.

      So much for my diet. One of Frank's Sunday lunches is not what I should be eating after a morning at the gym.

      You're only replacing the calories that you have burnt off. No harm done. I licked the last bit of custard from my spoon.

      The treadmill doesn't go fast enough to burn off a sticky-toffee pudding. You, my love, are a bad influence on my waistline.

      And that's just the way it should be. I should always be a very bad influence on your body.

      Fi giggled and blushed. She was so adorable and she was mine; my second chance at happiness. I don't suppose that there is the slightest chance that you could come home now and join me in the shower? Her eyes twinkled mischievously. And then you could help me to burn off another few calories.

      A quick glance at my watch and I had made my decision. It was Sunday after all. I was entitled to an extra long lunch-hour on a Sunday.

      Come on – but let's make it a bath and last one in gets the taps.

      Fi was out of her seat and heading for the door before I had drained my pint.

      Back in the office, I started to organise the crime-board, although at the moment there was very little to put on it apart from a photo of a dead bull and Simon's wrecked car. Nothing to point me in the direction of a madman who liked to stab bulls to death. A knock at the door halted my thoughts.

      Sir, Nigel Henson wants you to go out to see him, Grayson announced.

      Did he say why? Not that I needed a specific reason to go to see the Hensons. Rita's cakes were always worth a trip out and it was almost time for afternoon tea.

      Looks as if it was his bull, Sir. He's just phoned to report it missing and he is very upset.

      Ok. Bad news. The Hensons were a lovely couple and the last thing they

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