Echoes of the Dead (A DCI Monika Paniatowski Mystery)
The third book featuring DCI Monika Paniatowski - When a recently released prisoner claims in a deathbed confession that he is innocent of the rape and murder of a young girl for which he was convicted twenty-two years earlier, DCI Monika Paniatowski is tasked to lead an unofficial investigation into his claims. At first she is reluctant, but when she learns that her old mentor Charlie Woodend was the lead detective in the case, she knows she must do everything she can to protect his reputation . . .
building up in his brain – that he must fulfil his fantasies soon, but he has no idea it will come about on that particular day. Then, driving around on quite some other mission, he sees Lilly leave the market and the urge becomes just too strong to fight any longer. Possible? Yes! But it wasn’t the only possibility. When the killer wakes up, it feels as if his loins are on fire. He knows that if he does not get relief soon he will either throw himself under a bus or go completely insane. He
three officers were managing to make any progress at all. Just looking at the scene made Woodend’s hands start to twitch, but before he could take it any further, a warning voice in his head said, Don’t get involved, Charlie. It isn’t any of your business, an’ they probably wouldn’t thank you for stickin’ your oar in. Good advice, he told himself, stepping into an open doorway, in order to give the local bobbies more room to manoeuvre. Mind you, he added, as he watched the officers continue to
drawn back the bolts and opened the shutters, the light from the outside flooded in. The caged pigeons, surprised by this unexpected visitation, ruffled their feathers and cooed worriedly. ‘You’re all right, lads,’ Woodend said softly. ‘I’ve never been a big fan of pigeon pie, myself, so you’ve really nothin’ to worry about.’ Apart from the pigeon cages, there was not much to see. Two battered armchairs stood at the opposite end of the loft from the door, and a small rickety table had been
Paco Ruiz, who managed to find a reason to drop in on Woodend most afternoons. ‘Him,’ Woodend said, pointing to the vehicle. ‘It’s a new car – and there’s not many of them round here. And whoever’s drivin’ it isn’t used to this road. You can tell that from the cautious way he’s approachin’ the bends.’ Paco laughed. ‘Always the detective,’ he said. Woodend grinned, self-consciously. ‘Well, there are some habits which are a bit hard to break,’ he admitted. The car turned another bend in the
shot, could you really not come up with anything better than that?’ She shook her head. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything else,’ she conceded. ‘It’s pathetic because you’re pathetic. You’ve sold your soul for your pension. And not even to the Devil – who at least has some terrible dark satanic majesty about him – but to a worm of a man who’s not fit to lick Charlie Woodend’s boots.’ A sense of loss filled Hall’s eyes. ‘You’ll see,’ he said weakly. ‘Give it a few more years on the