Killed With A Kiss

By Milly Reynolds

Detective Inspector Mike Malone faces an intriguing case when the body of an unidentified man is discovered with a lipstick 'kiss' on his cheek. Was it placed there before he was killed? Did the person who kissed him, actually kill him? Was it left on his cheek as a tender farewell, or had the killer left Mike a calling card? As Mike starts his investigation, aided by his faithful partner, Detective Sergeant, Alan Shepherd, he finds that murder doesn't always visit total strangers, sometimes it visits friends. Join Mike and his cast of friendly townsfolk y.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Milly Reynolds
• Release date: Apr 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463975671

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 -...

Book preview

Prologue

Pete Dean’s mood was not just black, it was deep, inky, jet black. Why on earth had Frank Bassett allowed Ronnie Long to be on the darts team? The man wouldn’t have been able to hit a flaming bull even if it had been standing on his toe. Time and time again tonight Ronnie’s arrows had ended up on the floor and now the team had been knocked out of the cup in the first round. The first round! They had been champions for the last three years and now they were knocked out because Frank had played Ronnie Long. Well, that was it. He was not going to be drinking in The King’s Head any longer, no one made a mug of Pete Dean.

As he approached the crossroads, his headlights fell upon an object that seemed to have rolled off the grass verge and into the road. Pete pulled on his brakes, cursing under his breath that he had to get out and move the thing back onto the verge. It had been a glorious June day and stepping out of the car, Pete was welcomed by the remnants of the heat that had not yet scurried away into the night. Even though the air was pleasant, it was not pleasant enough to lift his mood. Stuffng his hands deep into his pockets, he stomped over to the object, bent down to grasp it and instantly recoiled. It was a man. A dead man. Pete took several backward steps until he collided with his car, all the time fumbling in his pocket for a phone that was playing hide and seek. Shock had swept away his black mood. All that he could focus on now was the body in the road; the open eyes that had stared sightlessly into the night and the kiss that had been left on the victim’s cheek.

One

Checking my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I grinned. I wasn’t looking too bad, not too bad at all. With Fi’s help over the past few months, I had managed to shift two stones. In fact, at my annual medical a couple of months ago, the doctor had commended me for keeping myself fit as my blood pressure had miraculously lowered. Cake was still on the menu, but not every day. These days, a slice of cake was a treat to be savoured and I found that I didn’t miss not having two or three slices everyday. As for the custard creams - well, I found that a packet would last nearly two weeks now, instead of nearly two days. I sucked my stomach in and studied myself closely. Not bad, not bad at all.

How much longer are you going to be?

Fi’s voice drifted into the en-suite from the bedroom where she was engrossed in yet another one of her detective novels. Another Scandanavian one. Why she would devote her leisure time to these fictional detectives when she had a living, breathing one in bed with her every night, well I would never understand women. And I wouldn’t want to. My wife was adorable just the way she was.

Be with you in a minute. I gazed again at my diminishing stomach, sucked my stomach in for a second time and smiled. Fi was a very lucky woman.

Switching the en-suite light off and with thoughts of love and romance in mind, I crossed over to the bed and plucked Fi’s book aside, her hands now my captives.

Your own shining knight of justice is here to take you on a journey you will never forget. I kissed Fi gently on her wrist.

Before she could utter a single syllable the sound of chiming bells shattered the mood that I had tried to create and I reached over and picked up my phone.

Malone.

Pete Dean charged over to my car as soon as he saw me pull up on the verge. In the distance, Adrian O’Brien was on his knees studying a shape in the road, his white suit luminescent under the forensic lights.

I’ve been here hours. When can I go home? Pete shouted at my window.

I eased myself out of the car, trying not to catch Pete with my door. The air still retained some of the day’s warmth, but Pete’s mood was enough to chill a polar bear.

You can go just as soon as you and me have had a chat, Pete. I just need to see Mr O’Brien first.

Pete huffed loudly and leaned against my car. Hurry up, then. I’ve got to be up early.

With Pete Dean’s eyes burning holes in my back, I walked briskly over to Adrian who looked up when he heard my approach, a broad smile on his face.

Evening, Mike. We really must start meeting on happier occasions.

Evening, Adrian. Family ok?

Yes thanks. In fact I’ve got a bit of news. We’re going to have to buy an extra present this Christmas.

You mean?

Adrian’s grin was even broader and he nodded. Baby’s due third of December.

Congratulations.

Thanks. Now to business I suppose. Male in his early forties I would guess, probably dead less than three hours - rigor only just setting in. Cause of death seems to be a single stab wound to the heart. Not killed here.

I looked down into a face that was unknown to me; the face of a man not a lot younger than me but with hair that was considerably longer than mine; it curled over his collar. His only distinguishing feature was a lipstick kiss on his cheek. Adrian was watching me.

Nothing I can tell you about the lipstick, Mike -not even the shade. Not my forte.

Thoughts were beginning to gather noisily. Was this the killer’s calling card or the result of an amorous encounter. There was no way of knowing - not yet.

Can you scrape a sample of it or something, Adrian. It might be worth trying to find out the make and shade. You never know.

You’re the boss, but Mike, it won’t suit you. Not your shade at all.

I ignored Adrian’s attempt at humour and crouched down beside him. Any ID on him?

No. The wallet’s gone, likewise a phone. There’s nothing, not even any keys.

Ok thanks. I straightened up. I’ll pop over tomorrow. Will you have sorted him by then.

Catch me at lunchtime - then you can buy me a drink.

If you have good news for me, then I will be happy to. See you then.

Adrian returned to his appraisal of the body and I returned to Pete Dean who had worn a rut beside my car with his restless pacing.

About time.

This is a murder, Pete. There are procedures to be followed.

Murder? I thought he’d just had a heart attack or something. The stuffing has been knocked out of Pete’s balloon of indignation.

Tell me what happened, Pete.

I was driving down the lane and had to stop as he was lying in the road. I didn’t realise it was a body until I got out of the car.

Did you touch the body at all?

No. Just phoned the station.

Pete’s gaze was focussed on the crime scene. Now that he knew it was a murder and not an accidental death, he was absorbing everything he could, knowing that any detail, no matter how small would be worth a few free drinks.

Did you see anyone? Any cars?

No.

Did you recognise him?

Never seen him before, but I’m not going to forget him now, am I? Not with those lips on his cheek.

Thanks, Pete. You can go. And if you remember anything, let me know.

Pete nodded and I watched his progress as he wandered back to his car, noticing that for someone who had been so eager to get home, he was taking his time. I sighed. By lunchtime tomorrow every detail of the night’s events would be common knowledge in The Cat and Fiddle. Pete would make sure of that.

Two

She stared into the dressing table mirror. Her ‘uniform’ was back in the wardrobe and her rings locked in her jewellery box. The scrunched up tissue that had missed the bin contained her face. Only the hint of lipstick that still stained her full lips revealed that the night had been a good one. She reached across and picked up the wallet that she had taken and opened it. Some notes, various credit cards and two condoms. What else had she expected to find. She closed it and laid it beside the phone. She should have left them. It had been a mistake to bring them, to make it look like a robbery. It just gave her the problem of disposing of them. But not yet. She’d let the fuss die down and then get rid of them. If they had to stay in the back of her wardrobe for a few weeks, so be it. She yawned. The kingsize bed behind her was waiting to take her into its warm embrace. She would not disappoint it.

Shepherd, balancing a plate of biscuits on top of two mugs, edged his way into the office, anxious to catch up on the previous night’s events. As Cat had been suffering from a tummy bug, I hadn’t called him, knowing that he would not want to leave her struggling with David, especially as the new baby was due in six weeks. Setting the mugs and plate on the desk, he walked over to the crime-board and studied the photos of the unknown victim.

So this is him? He glanced over to me. Grayson was telling me about your exciting evening while I was making the tea.

It wasn’t exciting and it wasn’t the evening. It was eleven at night and I’d just got ready for bed. Shepherd turned back to the board but I could sense his smirk. Do you recognise him?

No. Shepherd sat down and reached for a biscuit, a short-bread; under instructions from Fi, he only brought custard creams into the office on rare occasions now, choosing brands that he knew I wasn’t so keen on. He’s not someone I recall seeing around. What do we know about him?

Adrian thinks he’s mid-forties and he was killed by a single stab wound. He’ll hopefully tell me more later.

I like the kiss.

I wonder if it is a calling card - left by the killer.

So the killer could be a woman.

Not necessarily.

Shepherd shook his head. It’s a woman. This looks like a crime of passion - the lipstick, the single blow. She lashed out. Maybe he was going to leave her?

If it was a crime of passion, the lane would be the crime scene. He wasn’t killed there. Plus, a woman would not have the strength to lift him into a car and get him to the lane. It has to be a man. There were tyre tracks, the boys have taken a cast. They could fit any number of cars so we can’t narrow it down to a make. The only distinctive feature ie that it is wearing on the outer rim.

Not a lot of help. Anyway, it might not be a man - it could be two women working together.

"We’ll wait and see what Adrian comes up with.