Definitely Dead
Kate Bendelow
Copyright © 2021 Kate Bendelow
The right of Kate Bendelow to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance to the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2021 by Bloodhound Books.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.bloodhoundbooks.com
Print ISBN 978-1-913942-57-1
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Acknowledgements
A note from the publisher
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To Mum,
This one is for you. With thanks for everything, especially the gift of sarcasm and for always finding sun-cream phalluses funny.
I love you
1
Dead body…
Dead body…
Dead body…
Maya Barton repeated the words like a mantra. Her bowels churned at the thought of the corpse she was about to see. Her clammy hands gripped the steering wheel of the police SOCO van as she manoeuvred her way through the council estate. Normally, the hostile stares from locals would have rankled her, but today she was far too preoccupied to even care.
Maya had arrived for her afternoon shift at 2pm and been asked to make her way over to the crime scene on the Poets Estate. It was notorious for being one of the more dilapidated, deprived areas of the city. Her colleague, Chris Makin, was already in attendance following the report of a sudden death. This was police terminology for an unexpected, unexplained death of someone with no obvious medical issues. In such cases the death would initially be treated as suspicious until the investigation proved otherwise.
The senior crime-scene investigator, Kym Lawson, had assured Maya it would be good experience for her to help with her first body recovery. As much as Maya had been longing for the experience, she was becoming familiar with the adage ‘careful what you wish for’. She was normally level-headed and not easily fazed, but the lack of information and not knowing what to expect was unnerving her.
Her heart was racing, her senses heightened. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth. Maya’s trepidation peaked as the tinny voice of the satnav instructed her to turn next left and then she would reach her destination. The dead man’s house.
She arrived at Keats Road, and parked up on a well-worn grass verge. She could see two liveried police vehicles, another SOCO van and two plain cars, which she recognised as belonging to the CID. Maya was aware of being stared at by a pyjama-clad, heavyset woman who lolled over a garden gate, cigarette in hand.
‘What’s happening then? Is the dirty bastard really dead?’ the woman called as Maya stepped out of the van.
‘Sorry, not in a position to say. You’ll be updated in due course,’ Maya replied.
‘I told him I’d seen him eyeing our Toyah and her friends in their school uniform.’ Maya started to walk away but the woman continued undeterred, ‘Toyah saw him playing with himself at the window when they were walking past. Dirty bastard. I reported it, but nothing happened. Waste of time you lot.’ Sneering, she hocked a globule of spit on the pavement.
SOCO, Chris Makin, appeared. He was dressed in a full scene suit with a face mask slung around his neck. Beads of sweat gathered like a garland above his thickset eyebrows. He had the physique of a man with a voracious appetite and this made him appear older than his late forties. He was clearly exerted; puffing and blowing in the summer heat and the added discomfort of having his bulk ensconced in a white scene suit and mask.
‘Come on, Maya, never mind nattering, it’s not a social gathering,’ he snapped impatiently. ‘Get your arse suited up. The post-mortem has already been scheduled so we need to finish up and get him to the mortuary.’ Maya attempted to speak but he cut her off.
‘CID are already underway with house-to-house enquiries. DI Mitton is dealing with a shooting from overnight, so she probably isn’t going to make it. Instead, I’ve got DI Redford showing an interest.’ He shook his head disparagingly before continuing. ‘He’s not bothered enough to come down here and get his lovely Italian leather shoes dirty. Oh no, as usual he and Kym are mithering for an update every bleedin’ minute.’
He swiped a forearm across his sweating forehead. Maya attempted to speak again, but Chris interjected, ‘Do they never stop to think that if I’m all wrapped up in a scene suit, I can’t just get my sodding phone out? I’m sweating like a bastard, missed me lunch and I’ve got a ton of statements to write back at the nick. I don’t need this shit!’
He stomped off before Maya had a chance to respond. Muttering with indignation, she made her
