Rose Red 1: Snow White

By Saffina Desforges

What if fairy tales were real?
The scary monster you've hidden from your whole life is lurking under your bed and drinking coffee with your boss.
Cassandra 'Red' Rose is a war worn cop with way more baggage than most. A senior detective in The Metropolitan Police, she fights the mean streets - cleansing them of their sins - while she battles demons of her own. Real-life crime and a handful of ghosts.
From the award-winning international best-selling author Saffina Desforges comes the first book in a sensational new series.

21st Century crime thrillers with a twist.

SNOW WHITE - Book 1 (Rose Red series)

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?

A priceless jewel is stolen en route from the Louvre to the Victoria & Albert Museum and the mysterious Queenie wants a man known only as The Huntsman to get it back.
For Red and her team of misfits the case is another unwelcome distraction from the gangs terrorizing the elderly in the city's estates, so when her boss and mentor is targeted by The Huntsman, things get personal; Very personal.
Set in modern-day London, Snow White is a fast-paced, gritty urban thriller that will leave you wondering whether fairy tales really do have happy endings.

Perfect for fans of Angela Marsons, Rachel Abbott, Val McDermid and Mark Billingham - British crime fiction with a twist.

OTHER BOOKS IN THE ROSE RED SERIES

Book 2: Rapunzel
Book 3: Beauty & the Beast - 2016.
Book 4: Red Riding Hood is coming soon

Rose Red Rhymes - short story crime thriller series.

Book 1: Ring-a-Ring O'Roses
Book 2: The Night Before Christmas
Book 3: London's Burning
Book 4: The Sandman is coming soon...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Saffina Desforges
• Release date: Sep 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301567539

Saffina Desforges

Since 2011, Saffina Desforges has sold close to a million titles. The following books are available: Crime *Snow White *Rapunzel *Ring-a-ring O'Roses *The Night before Christmas *Rose Red crime thriller box-set Young Adult *Saffi does Sherlock (YA Sherlock Holmes series) *Indigo Kids - Books One and Two - Awakenings and Paragon. (YA Fantasy/paranormal series) Coming soon... *Beauty & the Beast (Book 3 of the Rose Red Crime thriller series) *First Blood (Book One - Equilibrium - Adult Fantasy trilogy) Contact: [e-mail] Represented by Broo Doherty @ DHH Literary Agency, London. Coming soon ~ (writing as Stevie Jordan) TAKE IT TO THE GRAVE (forthcoming WONDERLAND crime thriller series) & DRAWER SEVEN. Contact: [e-mail]

Book preview

Prologue

Another wild goose chase. Detective Chief Inspector Bill Andrews threw his keys onto the desk, the red velvet gift-box resting on papers in his in tray catching his eye. Ay up, what have we here then?

Guv?

It’s for you. Andrews read the address label. "For attention of DI Cassandra ‘Red’ Rose. Hand delivered. No postmark. A smile played on his lips. Secret admirer, Cass. Barry Taylor, maybe?"

Red edged herself around the desk. Very funny.

Andrews handed her the package. The perfectly formed, hand-written script stood sinister against the gloss-white label. The box meticulously wrapped, taunting Red. Daring her to open it. She turned it over in her hands, feeling its weight, intrigued.

Can’t be Taylor, Guv. Handwriting’s too neat. He wouldn’t dare, anyway. Red slid a finger beneath a fold, tearing the paper slightly.

Andrews looked on in silence, embers of unease beginning to smolder in his gut. The crimson box sat in Red’s hands, a gold padlock swinging from its clasp.

Maybe we should have someone give it the once-over first, Cass?

Get real, Guv. Can’t imagine Al Qaeda have got me in their sights. You’re right. It’s probably Taylor and his cronies playing some kind of prank. Red shot a sideways glance at her boss, uncertainty gathering momentum. She grabbed a letter opener.

The lock pinged against the desk as she prized it open, the lid bouncing up to reveal a transparent zip-lock bag.

Red lifted it out cautiously, dropping it instantly as it met the light, her hand flying to her mouth.

It’s a heart! Oh God, some sick bastard’s sent me a heart!

Andrews fished out a blood-stained card with the tips of his fingers, instinctively shielding her from the sight of the package.

Easy, Cass. Easy. It’s not human. Not this time, anyway.

Red felt the colour return to her cheeks. This time?

Andrews turned the card towards Red as he read it out loud.

Oink! Oink! – Next time it will be one of yours. The Huntsman.

Chapter 1.

No, not like that. Read it properly!   Ruby sat forward in bed, tugging at Red’s sleeve, the child’s freshly-washed hair falling around her shoulders.

I am reading it properly, sugar. Red tried not to let her frustration show.

Read it like Deimante reads it, Ruby persisted.

Red thought, Deimante can barely speak English, let alone read it. Okay, gorgeous. Here goes. Ready? She held the book in front of her face so Ruby wouldn’t see the resigned expression. What was the point of having a bloody au pair that goes home of an evening?

Not that she didn’t love reading to little Rubes, of course. Just, not tonight.

This evening, of all evenings, Red wasn’t up to reading Snow bloody White for the thousandth time in succession. But how do you explain that to an adorable four year old?

Cassie! Ruby pulled Red back to reality with a slap on the wrist and a severe stare.

Ow! That hurt, honey! The pained expression and trembling bottom lip were fooling no-one. Ruby saw right through her.

Snow White! Snow White! she chanted. Come on, Cassie. I’m waiting.

Yes, come on, Cass. Ruby Tuesday is waiting.

Red looked up to see Ella propped in the doorway, still in her school uniform. How short was that skirt?

You don’t fancy it, El’, do you? Red turned on the pleading eyes. You know how much Rubes loves you reading to her.

Top of the class in English, dude! Ella flounced in, sitting on the opposite side of the bed, taking her little sister’s hand. Do you want me to read to you, Tues?

Ruby’s eyes lit up. Snow White! Snow White!

Giz. Ella reached to take the book from Red.

Red held it tight. Done your homework, madam? 

The book was snatched from her grip, a monosyllabic teenage grunt in response. Not that Ella is quite a teenager yet. A while to go. But she’d easily pass as a frustrated fourteen year old to anyone not in the know.

Red sighed. I’ll take that as a yes, then, shall I? Just in case anyone asks?

Ella looked up long enough to manage another grunt, then with a beaming smile at her sister launched into an animated and moving rendition of the Snow White story, Ruby hanging on her every word.

Ella could be so eloquent when she wanted to.

Just, not with Red.

Chapter 2.

I would remind you that you are under oath, Inspector.

Red clutched the brass rail of the witness stand in Court Five, ice-blue eyes glaring at Defence Counsel.

The bitch.

And I would remind you, Red heard her own voice rise an octave, that these people are thugs. She watched the blood disappear from her knuckles before loosening her grip, letting out a slow breath. Lousy, scheming thugs, preying on helpless old people.

Defence Counsel smiled coldly. That’s what we’re here to determine, Inspector. The jury will make that decision, not you.

If they’ve got the bottle. Red turned a glacial stare on the jury. Well, have you?

Defence Counsel was almost leaping across the bench to grab the Judge’s attention. Your Honour, that remark is completely un –

Thank you, Ms. Crichton-Ward. The Judge gestured for Defence Counsel to retake her seat. He shifted his attention to the witness stand, peering over half-rimmed glasses at Red. Inspector Rose, need I remind you that you address the Court, not the jury?

I’m sorry, your Honour. This case is an exceptionally emotive one for me.

For us all, I’m sure. However, that does not alter the defendant’s right to a fair trial.

Fair trial? Those bastards tortured an old —

Inspector Rose, the Judge earnestly leaned forward. I am making every allowance for your conduct. Especially so today. But while you are here, you will observe due decorum. Do I make myself clear?

Red sucked a deep breath. Perfectly, Your Honour. I apologise to the Court.

The Judge nodded his gracious acceptance. Pray, continue, Ms. Crichton-Ward.

Defence Counsel smiled sweetly. So, Inspector...  Let’s be absolutely clear on this. You say you know for certain that it was the defendants who attacked Mrs. Henshaw, because you say CCTV footage shows it. Yet this footage has somehow gone missing?

That’s correct.

From within the Police Station.

Red swapped her weight onto her other foot, avoiding Counsel’s stare. A reluctant nod of the head.

I didn’t quite catch that, Inspector.

Without looking up, Yes.

So this CCTV footage, the only piece of evidence that puts the defendants at the scene of the crime, at the right time, has quite conveniently been, how can I put it, misplaced?

You can put it how you like. I know what I saw.

So we only have your word that the defendants were in any way involved.

You only have their word they weren’t.

The burden of proof is on the prosecution, as you well know. Defence Counsel looked directly at the Jury as she addressed Red. How many times have you arrested the defendants, Inspector?

Red dropped her eyes to the floor. Three.

And how many times have you secured a conviction?

Red studied her fingernails, biting her lip. Bitch.

I’m sorry, Inspector. I didn’t quite catch that.

You know damn well how many.

But the Jury doesn’t, Inspector.

An interesting stain on the ceiling caught Red’s attention.

I’ll ask you again. Inspector Rose, from the two previous occasions you have arrested and charged these young men, how many times have you secured a conviction?

The ceiling’s blemish continued to hold Red captive. She wondered how it had got there, so high up.

The Judge glared at her. You are trying my patience, Inspector. Please answer Counsel’s question.

Through clenched teeth, None, your Honour.

Defence Counsel allowed the answer to hang in the air.

Red could feel the Jury’s wary eyes on her. She was losing them.

Defence Counsel moved in for the kill. So third time lucky, is that what you’re hoping for, Inspector? She addressed the Jury, not Red. Three arrests. No convictions for the first two, and now suddenly no evidence in this latest attempt. Might I suggest this is, in fact, little more than a vendetta against the defendants?

No.

That, having twice been left with egg on your face, with two successive not guilty verdicts, you are now attempting to avenge your past failures?

Don’t be ridiculous.

Might I suggest this is nothing more than some trumped-up charge. That in fact there never was any evidence against the defendants?

Red felt her anger rise. Give me a break.

Might I further suggest –

No you may not! For Christ’s sake, Pip! Whose side are you on?

Inspector Rose! The Judge lifted himself from his seat, eyes blazing. You will leave the Court immediately.

Red cringed. But Your Honour... She cast a desperate glance at the jury. She’d lost them.

Immediately. One more word, Inspector, and I will hold you in contempt. The Judge turned to the jury. Members of the jury, you will disregard any and all testimony provided by Detective Inspector Rose.

Red bowed to the Judge, throwing a final look of disdain at Defence Counsel as she made her way to the exit, lips pressed together in a tight line to avoid a further outburst.

Philippa Crichton-Ward QC smiled sweetly as she passed. Her back to the Judge, she mouthed a kiss as Red reached the door. 

Red returned a one-fingered salute.

Chapter 3.

Red felt the icy rain dripping uncomfortably down the back of her neck as she watched the first sods of earth fall on to the coffin with a thud as hollow as her heart. The incessant drizzle mingled with the tears running down her cheeks.

Just another juggling act she’d have to get used to; balancing feminine emotion against hard-assed, tough cop image.

As the coffin-lid disappeared beneath the sodden soil she stared hard at the clouds, lost in quiet reflection.

Guv? A gentle hand on her arm snapped her back to reality.

She looked round to see the others already making their way back to their vehicles. Red managed a smile at her colleague. Sorry. Let’s go.

DS Hargreaves led the way across the wet grass, patiently awaiting an invitation to talk.

Finally, Red gave her one. I’m going to give the sandwiches a miss, Anna.

The DS stopped in her tracks. But Guv, he was your...

Yeah, yeah. Red turned to engage her colleague. That’s the only reason I’m here. Believe me, we weren’t close.

Even so... They’ll be expecting you.

I don’t want their tea, or their sympathy.

Anna searched her DI’s raw eyes. If you ever need to talk, Guv.

Red forced a smile. Thanks, but no thanks.

Anna shrugged. So, back to the station, is it?

Drop me at home. I can’t face Taylor and Harris today. Not after this morning’s balls-up.

You can’t blame yourself for that, Guv.

You weren’t there, Anna. I blew it.

They had a good brief.

Red cringed. Tell me about it. The bitch.

Anna suppressed a wry smile. There’s always next time.

Red slid into the passenger seat, shaking the rain from her cropped platinum hair. And end up on a malicious prosecution charge? That would completely finish me.

Anna smiled her support as she edged the car away. The DCI would never let that happen, Guv.

Chapter 4.

Her Majesty will see you now, Sir.

The Huntsman nodded, casting a furtive glance around the bar before downing the scotch in one and following the security guard past the blackjack tables to a discreet elevator door.

The guard swiped a card and stepped aside to let the Huntsman pass. If you press the gold button to your —

I know the routine. The Huntsman slipped the guard a twenty. Have a drink on me.

Why thank you, Sir. If I can — The doors slid shut on the security guard’s proposal.

The Huntsman stared silently at his reflection as the elevator rode to the seventh floor. The doors opened onto an empty corridor. He confidently turned left, walking the few steps to a heavy-set door.

He smiled dutifully at the camera, a theatrical wave of the hand. Open bloody Sesame.

The door’s bolts slid back. The Huntsman pushed it wide and paused, a customary hesitation before crossing any threshold. In his line of work he found caution improved life expectancy.

The scene was familiar. A well-appointed conference room, the long, heavy oak table the centre-piece, drawing the eye to the white screen that comprised the far wall, perfectly reflected in an oval mirror opposite.

A second door at the far end that he knew would be locked.

The main door clicked shut behind him. An androgynous synthesized voice said, Take a seat.

The Huntsman pulled the nearest chair out and seated himself towards the screen.

Facing the mirror, the voice said curtly.

More stupid games?

Just do it.

This is beginning to piss me off, Queenie.

Remind me again what it is that I pay you for? The venom transcended the mechanical limitations of the voice.

Call me old-fashioned, but I like to see who I’m talking to; who I’m working for.

That’s rich, coming from a mercenary.

This isn’t the Congo.

And I’m not some jumped up little Idi Amin wannabe playing toy soldiers. Face the mirror.

The Huntsman spun the chair round, scraping the floor. Happy now?

The room darkened as on previous visits, the screen lighting up. An animated face-mask, projected onto the screen behind him, danced in the mirror above his reflection. He silently acknowledged the theatrics. She was good.

Now, what happened to the kid? The mask’s mouth moved in time to the words spoken.

The plod have him. It’s a minor complication.

Losing an arm is a minor complication. Losing track of the kid the day before a huge festival is more a major complication. Otherwise known as your balls on the block. Hmmm?

I’ll sort it.

The mask danced in agitation in the mirror. Oh, I know you will, darling. And you’ll sort Mickey, too. Mistakes like that will not be tolerated.

That wasn’t part of the deal.

Nor was losing the kid. I’ll lose a small fortune if that snow isn’t pushed.

I said I’d sort it. They can’t hold him much longer.

And Mickey?

I still need him.

You might. I don’t. He’s a loose cannon.

You chose him, Queenie.

Don’t remind me.

The Huntsman shrugged. So get rid of him.

I was thinking you might do just that.

My fee was for one hit only.

So that’s why they call you mercenaries... Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you are recompensed for any inconvenience.

It’s not about the money, Queenie. You approached me with one job, yet somehow I’ve become your errand boy.

You offered. I didn’t ask.

I said I’d show the kid the ropes.

You obviously didn’t show him very much.

That was Mickey’s fault.

As I said, a loose cannon. And there’s the small matter of the missing five?

Point taken. How do we get the kid back?

The mask chuckled. Unless you have some bizarre plan to storm Battersea Police Station single-handed I suggest we just wait ’til he’s bailed.

And then?

Entirely up to you. You and Mickey are the only faces he knows.

He won’t say anything.

The mask quivered. Let’s hope not. Now, there’s another small matter that has come to my attention.

The Huntsman stiffened in his chair. And?

Inspector Rose?

Ah...

Rumour has it you sent her a little gift?

What of it?

I’m paying you to deal with Andrews.

The Huntsman shrugged. My methods are not your problem. Andrews is on borrowed time, don’t worry.

And Inspector Rose?

Bog off.

The mask stopped dancing, the expression menacing. I’m sorry?

"Bogof. Buy one, get one free. Rose won’t cost you a penny extra."

The dancing mask broke into a smile. You know, I’m beginning to warm to you.

Chapter 5.

Red closed her eyes, the warmth and power of the shower’s spray coaxing knotted muscles into submission. She allowed herself to relax a little, the powerful jets of water invisible fingers, massaging her head and neck, carrying away the nauseating stench of grief.

The eulogies from the funeral taunted her. A loving husband and devoted father, always there to lend a hand if needed. A tragic loss to the family. A sad loss to the community. Sorely missed.

Like a hole in the head.

Red smiled at her own words. First sign of madness, she added, just to ram the message home.

Why in hell did it hurt so much? She studied the shower cream aimlessly. He’d rejected her, turned his back on her. On her new family. Everything. Too bigoted to even try to come to terms.

She felt a new wave of tears well. With only her reflection in a steamed-up mirror on the far wall for company, she let them flow.

I’m gonna miss you, Dad, she conceded quietly. But you’re still the biggest ass-hole on the planet.

The bathroom door clicked open.

Cass?

Red instinctively wiped away the tears. In here, babe.

She rubbed a window in the condensation on the shower glass, watching her partner remove a suit jacket, hanging it carefully on the hook before rolling up sleeves. A smile parted Red’s lips at the welcome distraction of company. She turned for the shower cream, lathering it between her fingers, soaping it over her skin.

Red didn’t look around when the shower door pushed open. She felt soft hands slide over her back, then around the naval, rising slowly to embrace her breasts.

Hey, babe. I’ve missed you.

Me too. The fingers caressed, then paused. How was the funeral?

Red sighed. Done and dusted.  Let’s not talk about it. She covered her lover’s hands with her own. A gentle squeeze.

I should have been there with you.

He wasn’t your dad.

For you.

Red clutched her partner’s hands. He would have been turning in his grave before they’d finished filling it in.

If it had been any other day...

Please? Just leave it?

Red felt her partner’s lips on the back of her neck. She relaxed. So how was your day?

Oh, you know. Just another victory for justice. A kiss to the neck. Sorry, Cass.

Red turned, brushing a lock of hair from her partner’s face. Have you any idea how much shit I’m in with the Super?

If you will treat the Court with contempt.

Red tugged at her partner’s hair, pulling her forward, a mimicked Minnie Mouse voice. Your Honour, DI Rose is trying to frame my ever-so-innocent clients. Please throw her out of Court and dismiss the case.

You fell for the oldest trick in the book, Inspector. That was my easiest Not Guilty in a long while.

Supposing they attack another old lady.

But Inspector, they were found not guilty. It must have been someone else.

You really are one evil bitch, Philippa Crichton-Ward, Q.C. Red held her partner at arms’ length. Anyway, let’s not talk shop.

Pippa ran a tongue over her lips in anticipation. Now on that I can concur.

Oh, Pip... I need you. Red pulled her partner forward, resting her lips on Pippa’s. The taste of cherries and mint. How about you step in here and we’ll see if you can’t get me off?

Pippa arched an eyebrow, already unbuttoning her blouse. I think I’ll need to examine the evidence very carefully, Inspector.

They heard a distant door slam.

Mum? Cass? I’m home!

Red winced, smiling an apology as Pippa reluctantly slid buttons back into holes. Is it that time already?

Pippa shrugged. Just as well. I’ve got a ton of briefs to get through before the morning.

Red pecked her on the lips. The only briefs I want you getting through are mine, later.

Pippa glared. Cass, you really are an animal sometimes.

Chapter 6.

––––––––

Any homework?

Jack didn’t look up. Done it at Granma’s.

Anything interesting?

Duh. It’s homework?

Red let out a slow sigh. Maths? English?

It’s called numeracy, Cass. Jack diverted his eyes from the phone long enough to manage a patronizing smile. Numeracy and literacy.

"Same thing. So how was your literacy homework?"

Okay.

Numeracy?

Okay.

How was your nan?

Okay.

Any idea when Ella will be back?

Okay.

Red put down her cup. Have you heard anything I’ve just said?

Okay.

I bought an iPad yesterday.

Jack’s thumbs stopped twitching. You did? For real?

No, but at least it got your attention.

Jack scowled. That’s not funny, Cass.

Nor is being ignored when I talk to you.

Jack struggled to look apologetic. Sor-ry.

So who’s so interesting you have to text them non-stop?

Just a friend I made on the bus.

Red waited expectantly. And?

And what?

Have they got a name?

Jack shrugged. Darren.

Nice kid?

Jack shrugged again. I guess.

Cool, said Red.

Cool? Pippa struggled through the door with a pile of legal folders, sending them sliding across the table as she sat. Has Deimante turned the thermostat down again?

Jack scowled at his mother. Any biccies, Mum?

Pippa tutted loudly. Biscuits, Jack, for goodness sake. I really need to talk to your English teacher.

Any biscuits, then?

Did your grandmother not make you tea?

Jack was too preoccupied with his texting to answer.

Jack’s made friends with a boy he met on the way to school, Red cut in.

Jack set his phone on his lap with a frustrated sigh. I haven’t made friends. I’ve just been texting him, that’s all.

Red suppressed a smile. Looked like you were writing a book to me. What do you text about?

Stuff.

What sort of stuff?

Jack shrugged. Just stuff.

I remember doing stuff at school too. Red nudged Pippa. Bet Mum did too. Right, Pips? All kinds of stuff. Behind the bike sheds.?

Cass, don’t be so vulgar. Pippa untied the ribbon on a legal folder. And please, don’t call me Pips! Now, if you don’t mind, I need to concentrate.

Jack looked at Red as he addressed his mother. Now you know how I feel, trying to text someone and Cass is yakking.

Jack! Manners. Apologize to Cassandra at once.

Jack grinned at Red. Sorry.

It wasn’t very convincing, but Pippa was too engrossed in a document to notice.

It was Red’s turn to shrug. She said, Why not invite him to tea?

Pippa looked up briefly from her folder. Invite who?

Jack’s new friend.

I only met him this morning. He doesn’t even go to my school.

All the more reason then, Red persisted. It will do you good to make some new friends.

Really? Jack looked hopefully from Red to Pippa. Mum?

From behind a folder, Fine by me, darling. I’ll give your grandmother a call later and arrange it.

Red reached out a hand, pushing down the legal folder to engage Pippa’s attention. I meant here. With us?

Jack stopped in mid-text, looking from Red to Pippa and back. A smile spread across his lips. For real?

Consternation rippled Pippa’s calm features. Jack, be a darling. Five minutes? I need to discuss some legal issues with Cassandra.

Jack looked despairingly at Red. It was worth a try, Cassandra.

Red waggled a disapproving finger at the boy. I’m on your side, remember? Say hi to Darren for me.

Pippa let loose as the door closed. Oh God, did you say Darren? Well that’s final then. They can be friends at his grandmother’s. End of.

Pips, you’ve got to let go a bit.

Please do not call me that.

"Then don’t call me