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 Love best-selling fiction? 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 Love best-selling fiction? You will also enjoy: Love best-selling fiction? Sign up today to be the first to hear about new releases and exclusive offers, including free and discounted ebooks! Why not like us or follow us on social media to stay up to date with the latest news from your favourite authors? 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
