Guilty Party by Candy Denman
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 3.0 MB
Candy Denman trained as a nurse, and worked in the NHS almost all her life, until managing recently to disengage herself in order to become a full-time crime writer. She has also written a number of scripts for such highly-acclaimed TV series as The Bill and Heartbeat which gave her the idea to write a crime series that also includes medical stories.
Curiosity about a strangled lawyer leads police doctor Callie Hughes along a bumpy road to the truth
When a lawyer is found dead in his home, the circumstances are indeed strange, if not wholly suspicious. An act of auto-eroticisation has gone terribly wrong, leading to an unintended climax to his life.
It is only after another lawyer is found dead in his former boss’s pool that Dr Callie Hughes begins to suspect there is more to the deaths. But she can’t act on her instincts until the pathology reports are filed.
What she can do is explore the men’s respective backgrounds. Both having worked in the justice system, there are more than a few disgruntled individuals who could have wanted them dead. The challenge will be finding one connected to both men.
Juggling her work as a forensic pathologist and part-time GP, Callie risks overstepping the mark when it comes to investigating the case. But her instincts have been proven right in the past. And when another lawyer is publicly humiliated, she begins to develop a theory.
Whilst the police may have seen her meddling as a hindrance in the past, when the strange antics in the coastal town of Hastings continue, in more ways than one they’ll be grateful that through her sleuthing, she has closed in on the killer.
When she arrived at the address Parton had given her, Callie saw that it was part of an elegant Victorian terrace. The majority of the houses in the street had long since been split into flats, and as she was looking for number 20 B, she had guessed that she was looking for one of them. She removed her jacket, intending to leave it safely in her car. She had deliberately dressed in clothing that was machine washable, but she would still try her best to keep it uncontaminated by death, or at least body fluids.
She pulled her long blonde hair back into a clip and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Not only did she mean to get as little of the scene as possible onto herself, she wanted to prevent any transfer of herself onto the scene. She never knew when a supposedly natural death could turn out to be anything but. That was what she was there for, to make that first call on the death: natural, if unexpected, or suspicious. Once she gave her opinion that an apparently natural death might be suspicious, then the full forensic circus was wheeled out, with all its subsequent cost implications for the police, so she had to be careful – careful not to instigate full investigations for too many innocent and natural deaths but equally careful not to miss any possible murders or manslaughters.
Dr Calliope Harriet Hughes MBChB MRCGP DipFMS, part-time local general practitioner and part-time forensic physician for the Hastings police. Dr Hughes to her patients, and Callie to her friends. Tall and slim, elegant, in an understated, natural way; her straight, shoulder-length, blond hair kept neatly away from her face with a clip. Cool, precise, well-ordered, in looks and in life. With just a hint of fire, a slight glint in her eye, a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth that let you know there was a lot more going on than she was prepared to let out from under that steely exterior.
At number 20, she rang the bell marked B and noted that the house appeared to have been split into only three flats, whereas some she had passed had five or six bells next to the front door. She was let into the front hall by a young constable she didn’t recognise. Then a woman who looked to be in her late thirties, overweight and dressed in the sort of clothes that were made for comfort rather than looks, appeared out from the ground floor flat holding a mug of tea and a plate of chocolate biscuits. The constable hesitated and Callie realised that he was uncertain whether he should accept them in front of her.
“Don’t mind me. It could be a long morning.”
He gratefully took the tea and a couple of the biscuits, nodding his thanks to the woman as he shoved in most of a hobnob.
“Can I get you something?” the woman asked Callie, who politely declined.
“I’d better go on up.” Callie looked questioningly at the constable.
“It’s on the first floor.” He indicated the stairs, trying not to choke on the biscuit, but clearly not intending to follow her up. “They’re expecting you. I’d better stay with the lady who found the body,” he explained, glancing into the ground floor flat where Callie could see a tearful young woman clasping a mug to her chest as the older woman fussed around her.