Death's Cold Hand, J.E. Mayhew [book club recommendations .txt] 📗

To add another level of complication to the whole proceedings, Charlie, Blake’s Jack Russell, found the whole exercise too exciting for words and bounced around the living room yapping joyfully. This was the best entertainment he’d had in his life.

“Come on, Serafina,” Blake said, trying to sound soothing. “C’mon, girl.”

Serafina put her ears back and hissed, lashing out with her claws. Despite wearing gloves, Blake whipped his hands back instinctively. She hated being picked up and only came to any human on her terms. Plus, she had seen the crate that Blake had tried to hide under a towel when he sat it on the sofa. The crate meant the vet and Serafina was having none of that.

Blake had come back from work a few days before to find that Serafina was off her food. Her appetite hadn’t improved since.

“You’re gonna have to get the vet to look at her,” Ian Youde, his neighbour had said. “I reckon she’s got a gammy tooth.” He usually fed her, walked Charlie and kept an eye on them while Blake was working. He was a sour-faced old man with a letterbox mouth and narrow, suspicious eyes but Blake liked him. Despite Youde’s self-proclaimed hatred of cats, he obviously knew animals and wouldn’t have said anything unless he thought there was a problem.

Blake had dutifully made an appointment with the vets and now here he was, crawling around his own living room trying to catch Serafina, Charlie tugging at his jumper with his teeth. It was early morning and the appointment with the vet was hurtling towards him, making the need to capture Serafina all the more urgent. The cat crouched in a corner, hemmed in by an armchair and the wall as Blake inched forward. “It’s okay, girl,” he said, softly and reached out again. That was when Serafina took her chance and sprang up. Blake’s eyes widened as the huge ball of blue-grey fur filled his vision.

Suddenly, the cat wrapped itself around his head, effectively blindfolding him with her body and sinking her claws into his scalp. Blake roared with pain and Charlie barked with glee as Serafina pummelled his cheek with her back paws, claws exposed. He shot to his feet, the cat still clinging to his head and stumbled backwards across the living room. This would have been painful enough but Blake was still recovering from bruised ribs and the other injuries he’d received during his trip to Scotland a couple of months ago. Although he was nearly better, pain still seared through his body.

Then, just as quickly, the lights were back on and the cat had sprung from his shoulder. But Blake knew why. She was leaping to safety. The room lurched on its side as he tumbled over a footrest and, with a roar of indignation, he fell heavily onto an old armchair. For a second, Blake lay still, face down in the seat, recovering. “Jeez, Serafina, we’ve got to get that tooth sorted.”

Wincing, he eased himself up and scanned the room for the cat, touching his cheek with his fingertips. She’d drawn blood. Charlie leapt up at his legs yapping happily at the excitement. Blake wondered whether the trauma of all his adventures in Scotland had pushed the little dog over the edge. “That’d be all I need,” Blake muttered looking down at Charlie, “two psychotic animals in the house.”

Charlie barked again and Blake realised that the Jack Russell was staring intently at the crate. Blake blinked in amazement at the two glowing eyes that glared out at him from the darkness of the crate. Serafina had taken refuge in the very box she was trying to avoid. “It’s some kind of trick, isn’t it boy?” he said to Charlie as he edged towards the crate. “She’s taunting me. Trying to lull me into a false sense of security…” He lunged forward and flipped the mesh door on the crate, heaving a sigh of relief. If Laura had been there, he wouldn’t have had that problem. She would have thought of some clever way to entice Serafina into the crate without the unnecessary bloodshed. Blake dabbed his cheek again. It was still bleeding. He stared into the crate. “Maybe you miss her too, eh, puss?” Serafina growled and glared at him.

Laura had left him before Christmas, forced to flee after her ex-husband Kyle Quinlan, a violent and powerful criminal had returned from the US. Blake had begged her to stay, telling her they could face Quinlan together but it wasn’t enough. He sighed, picked up the crate and looked around the room. Laura had been a fixture in his life for months now and she’d woken him up from what, looking back, had been a miserable existence. He’d even made plans to sell the house and move in somewhere else with her. Now, once again, he was trapped in his dead mother’s house with all its ancient furniture. The place still looked as though she’d just popped out to the shops. But he’d changed. Laura had changed him, and that new part of him wasn’t prepared to give up on her.

Blake’s phone rang.

“Kath, is this urgent? I’m kind of busy right now…”

“Sir, It’s not good. You better get over to Port Sunlight,” Detective Inspector Kath Cryer said. “It’s a messy one.”

Blake pursed his lips and glared at the crate. He’d have to rely on Ian Youde once again. “I’m on my way, Kath.”

Chapter 3

There was nothing like a crime scene tent and some blue and white tape to lower the tone of an area, Blake thought. Some places welcomed and revelled in the new accessories. Others wore a look of shock, like Port Sunlight. Blake was familiar with the village that nestled in front of the Unilever factory and Lever House, a huge building with a grand front entrance overlooked by a large clock. The old factory buildings and workshops had been torn down and