Avaline Saddlebags
DI Dylan Monroe Investigates: One
Netta Newbound
Marcus Brown
Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
About the Authors
Acknowledgments
Also by Netta Newbound
Also by Marcus Brown
Copyright © 2019 by Netta Newbound & Marcus Brown
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Netta Newbound & Marcus Brown/Junction Publishing United Kingdom
Avaline Saddlebags - DI Dylan Monroe Investigates: One
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the authors’ imaginations. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
AS DIDMIO/ Netta Newbound & Marcus Brown – 1st Ed.
To our long suffering other halves (which is a laugh seeing as we’re the long suffering ones, lol…)
Prologue
Gina stumbled down the dark alleyway. “Fucking heels,” she moaned, almost losing her footing on the cobblestones.
She regretted taking the shortcut home from the club. Her mum would go ballistic if she found out, especially after that poor woman was murdered the other week, but she was exhausted and more than ready for her bed. And besides, what were the chances of it happening twice in the same area?
A loud scraping noise from behind caused her pulse to quicken. Spinning around, she squinted, scanning the alleyway. She couldn’t see a thing, but goosebumps covered her entire body. “Hello?” she called. “Is anybody there?”
A cat jumped down from the wall beside her and ran screeching past and back into the shadows.
With a guttural roar, Gina staggered backwards in fright—hyperventilating. She knew she was freaking herself out but was unable to calm her raging heartbeat.
As she took several more tentative steps, another loud bang echoed along the alleyway.
“Hey! This isn’t funny now.” Her anxiety levels soared, and she quickened her pace in the stupidly high heels she vowed never to wear again.
“Gina,” a mocking male voice came out of the darkness.
She stopped running, rooted to the spot.
“Who’s there?” Her voice was almost a shriek. “Whoever it is, it’s not funny now. You’re scaring me.”
“Gina,” the voice called again.
Run, you stupid bitch, her inner voice yelled, and she did. Kicking off her shoes, she wasted no time and, seconds later, found herself at the bottom of the alleyway gasping for breath. Glancing back, she still couldn’t see anybody, but she knew he was there.
Still five minutes from home, she chose not to take her usual route in case he followed her.
Darting across the road, she ran toward Chapel Lane, her big feet slapping on the concrete.
“Gina.” The voice seemed closer this time and she turned around as a tall dark shadow approached her.
“Leave me alone.” she yelled. “Or I’ll call the police.”
“You’ll be long dead before they can get to you.”
Whimpering uncontrollably, she turned to run, stubbing her toe on the uneven cobbles. She stumbled forwards, crashing to the ground.
White hot pain exploded in her knee. She cried out in agony trying to get back up. Seconds later, a kick to her side sent her crashing back to the ground. Winded, she couldn’t move. “I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt me,” she begged.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Gina. I’m going to kill you.” He dealt her another boot to the ribs then grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her back up the dark alley.
She could taste the sickly sweet stench of the industrial bins and began to retch.
The man shoved her to the ground once again.
As she fell, her head splashed into a muddy puddle and her long blonde hair, her pride and joy, was caked in dirt and dog-piss.
He straddled her, leaning in and pinning her arms above her head.
“Take my bag,” she begged. “I have cash in there.”
He picked up the bag with his gloved hand and threw it across the alley. “You’re nothing but a freak, a clown,” he spat. “Walking the streets, tricking decent hard-working men into believing you’re a real woman.” He spoke with the hint of an accent Gina couldn’t place.
“I am a real woman,” she protested.
He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “But you weren’t born a woman, were you, Gina? Or should I call you George?”
She flinched. It had been nearly seven years since anybody had used that name.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she cried.
His hand gripped her throat and squeezed hard.
“Please, you’re hurting me,” she choked. “If you let me go, I won’t say a word to anyone.”
He was strong and used one hand to pin both of hers behind her head before punching her in the face.
Gina cried out in agony as blood poured from her left nostril. He leaned in closely and she tried to get a good look at him, but it was still too dark.
“You’re a screwed up, perverted faggot just like the last one,” he growled into her face.
“And you’re a twisted fucker who probably can’t get it up,” she replied, defiantly.
“Freak.” He kneed her between the legs.
She screamed and her body was once more racked with white-hot pain.
He punched her face again.
Gina’s head bounced off the cobblestones and she cried out once more. “I’m sorry, please, just let me go. I told my daughter I wouldn’t be late. Just do what you want and let me go.”
“Daughter? Who are you trying to kid? Do you tell people you carried her to term? Men can’t give birth, Georgie. Surely, even you’re not that deluded?”
The moon suddenly made an appearance giving Gina her first proper look at him. Dressed entirely in black, a cap’s visor shield
ed his eyes and a black pollution mask covered his nose and the lower portion of his face. Something was amiss, but she couldn’t place what it was, however, judging by how he was dressed, she knew this wasn’t a random act—he meant business. If she had any chance of escaping, she would have to fight. A staunch pacifist, she abhorred violence of any kind, but her life was at stake and she hadn’t spent the best part of ten years transitioning to meet her maker at the hands of this lunatic.
“You wanna fuck me, don’t you,” she said bravely, trying a change of tactic. “Isn’t that what this is all about? You like cock, but you’re too scared to try it. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but my cock was tucked away a long time ago.”
He loosened his grip for a moment, obviously stunned by Gina’s words. She was able to release one of her hands and, moving swiftly, she clawed at his forearm with her long nails, drawing blood.
“You bitch,” he growled.
Gina tried to scramble to her feet, but her busted knee wouldn’t co-operate, and he kicked her up the backside. With a yelp, she landed flat on her face.
Her attacker towered over her and stamped down hard on the small of her back.
A sickening crack echoed around the dark alleyway.
Gina lay motionless on the ground, resigned to the fact she was going to die. She closed her eyes.
“Not long now, Georgie.”
He rolled her over and straddled her again, but she couldn’t feel anything.
She looked into his eyes and gasped. “I know you, don’t I?” she said through snot and tears. She definitely recognised his eyes, but where from eluded her.
“You think?” he sneered.
“Yes. Yes, I do. Who the fuck are you?”
“Such a shame you won’t be around to work it out.”
“But why are you doing this?” Gina asked, as her attacker climbed off her, jumping to his feet.
“You’re all sick.” Raising his foot, he stamped down on her face.
One
I marched past the crowded incident room and headed for the glass-walled office at the end of the corridor.
My boss, DCI Janine Kerrigan, glared at me as I burst through the door. “Jesus, Dylan, haven’t you heard of knocking?”
“Sorry, Ma’am, I’ve been up for hours and I’m not thinking straight.” The truth was, I was jittery. So much had happened over the past couple of weeks and this was my first day as Detective Inspector. I was terrified of screwing up.
“That’s okay. What can I do for you?” She lifted her reading glasses up onto her head and gazed at me.
“We’ve found another body, Ma’am. Some kid dragged it out of the Mersey, thinking it was a Guy Fawkes dummy, early this morning. She was lying in the mud flats at the south end of Albert Dock.”
“Oh, fuck!” She shook her head, her shoulder-length, straight brown hair swished with the motion. “What do you know so far?”
“She’d suffered severe trauma to the face from what I could see, as well as other injuries. Lauren was called to the scene and is working on her now. We’ll know more later, but we believe she’s Gina Elliot—a twenty-eight-year-old transgender female. Criminal record as long as her arm when known as George Elliot, but squeaky clean after surgery. Reported missing two days ago by her parents, when she didn’t return home from a night out at Dorothy’s night club, a popular haunt in Gay Town. There’s a chance she’s been in the water since then.”
“There goes any trace evidence.” Janine banged her hand on the desk, startling me.
“This guy certainly seems to know what he’s doing,” I said.
“I’ll get Joanna and Will to do some digging into any exes–the usual. We need to move fast.”
“The press will have a field day with this.” She held her head in her hands for a few seconds then looked up. “Keep me in the loop. We’re bound to take some heat. Looks like we’ve got someone targeting the transgender community.”
“Seems that way,” I added.
“As if they don’t have enough shit thrown at them. I hope they haven’t got their own goddamn serial killer picking them off.”
“Tell me about it. Shall I take Layla Monahan with me? It’ll be good to have a woman’s presence when speaking to the parents. Then, we’ll hit the night club once we’ve got the autopsy results.”
“Yeah, good idea, although I’m not sure what you’ll find out when you get to Gay Town. You might be met with a wall of silence.”
“Somebody’s targeting their own, they’ll talk, trust me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving me out. “Just keep me informed.”
“Gotcha, Ma’am.”
“And stop calling me Ma’am. You make me sound like the fucking Queen.”
I grinned. “Okay, Janine.”
“And about Layla, I’ve already had a word with her—she’s aware she’ll be partnering with you now Savage has left.”
“Only until Bella’s back, I hope?”
“That’s ages away yet. We’ll sort it out nearer the time.” She replaced her glasses and looked back down at the paperwork in front of her.
Clearly dismissed, I walked out of her office and closed the door behind me.
“Listen up everybody,” I said once back in the incident room. “There’s been another murder. Joanna, Will, can you start digging around for anything you can find on the victim, Gina Elliot AKA George Elliot from 15 Cavendish Crescent?”
“Bloody hell, that’s a blast from the past. I knew George Elliot,” Will said. “He was a right light-fingered bugger when he was younger—likeable enough though.”
“Yes, he had a record for petty theft and burglary, but he’s been as clean as a whistle since he became a she seven years ago. Could you check if there’s any connection to the previous victim? I’ll send the autopsy results through as soon as we have them in. You all know how imperative it is we pull together so don’t let me down. In the meantime, Layla, I believe you’re with me.”
Layla was seated at her desk in the corner of the room. I sniggered at her pissed off expression. We’d worked together for a while now, but not closely. She’d been partner to my predecessor, Fred Savage, and no doubt thought she should be the one promoted, not me.
Savage had suffered a serious heart attack the week before last while chasing a suspect and his doctor advised him to give up work or he’d be dead by the end of the year. Hence why I’d been promoted out of the blue, much to the surprise of everyone—me included.
“If I must.” She rolled her eyes as she got to her feet and sauntered over to me. I found her appearance more suited to the catwalk than keeping criminals off the streets—statuesque and beautiful, she could have had her pick of professions, but she was good at her job, and had worked her way up the ranks faster than most.
“Yes, you must,” I said, feeling a little irritated. My usual sidekick, Annabella Frost, Bella to her friends, was on maternity leave. We’d worked side by side for the past six years, only apart when she had her daughter, Lily, four years ago. Now, with a new title and new responsibilities, I wasn’t sure I had the patience to break in a new partner as well. This was going to be a long six months.
I was aware the rest of the team didn’t think I should’ve been promoted either and I knew it would take a while for me to win them over. I’d been their equal one day and their boss the next, although Tommo, Pete, and Heather had never shown any desire to be promoted. I had a feeling Will and Joanna would be up for the challenge, but it was Layla who was the competitive and hungry one.
“No problem,” Layla said, a fake smile plastered across her pretty face.
Ignoring the sarcasm, I carried on. “First stop is to visit the parents. It won’t be pleasant but having you there will be a huge help. Afterwards we’ll call in to see Lauren, then on to Dorothy’s.”
“Oh, wonderful,” she replied, in her cute Welsh lilt. “I’ll get to spend the afternoon watching you flirt up a storm with the local pretty boys, will I?”
> “If I didn’t know better, Monahan, I’d swear you were a bigot.” I loved to tease her and push her buttons. It was so easy.
“Not funny, Dylan.”
“I’m kidding,” I replied. “Jesus, have you got a pickle shoved up your arse today? What’s the matter with you?”
“If you must know, my separation papers arrived this morning.”
I winced. Me and my big mouth. “I’m sorry, Layla. I didn’t realise things were that bad between you and Max.”
“I’m not stupid enough to think I can compete with that bitch he’s shacked up with.”
“Don’t put yourself down. If he can’t see what a good thing he had with you and the kids, then he doesn’t deserve any of you.” I might have been overstepping the boundaries, but she needed a friend. I put my arm around her and pulled her toward me. “Come on, let’s get going, maybe we can cram in a quick cuppa before we head to Dorothy’s later and you can tell me all about it.”
The two storey, red brick, detached house was immaculately kept with impressive floral borders leading to the front steps.
A tall, stocky man with salt and pepper hair answered the door, a frown on his face. “Yes?” he asked.
“Mr Elliot?”
The man gripped the edge of the door and nodded.
I pulled out my warrant card and introduced myself and Layla.
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