Dead Before Morning: Rafferty & Llewellyn British Mysteries, #1

By Geraldine Evans

'A lively and highly engrossing British mystery.'

 

FIVE STARS ON READERS' FAVOURITE

FINALIST IN THE WISHING SHELF BOOK AWARDS

18-NOVEL MYSTERY SERIES


A murder investigation…and Joe Rafferty's already got trouble in spades.


His first case in charge looks like being his last.

Because he suspects that the case of the 'Faceless Lady' is a poisoned chalice. Gifted by his new boss, who is only waiting for Rafferty to fail, to put the boot in.

When even his ma adds seems to add to the kicking…

Does she really expect him to supply a Get Out of Jail Free card for his cousin, Jailhouse Jack? When what his cousin needs is a miracle.

And Jack's not the only one.

Rafferty's boss looks hand-rubbing ready in anticipation of his failure. If he's got some detective favourite ready to slot into his space, the case of the 'Faceless Lady' looks likely to be the one to do it. His ma's little problem just adds the cherry on the top.

All he can do is grit his teeth and hope for a lucky break.

But when he gets it, it's from such an unlikely source that he suspects the fates are having a laugh at his expense. But it's the only clue he's got, so he has to follow it up.

Will he end up with egg on his face? Or solve the murder against all the odds?

Rafferty wishes he knew. The only thing he's sure of is that his boss won't hesitate to get rid of him if he drops the ball. Determined to deprive him of that satisfaction, he goes with his gut-instinct, but keeps his fingers crossed all the way.

'Did not see the end coming.' Reader Reviewer

'Evans' humor seriously added to my enjoyment of her book. The series has stand out central characters and clever plots.' AUNT AGATHA'S BOOKSHOP, ANN ARBOR


RAFFERTY & LLEWELLYN BRITISH MYSTERY SERIES
Dead Before Morning #1 Down Among the Dead Men #2 Death Line #3 The Hanging Tree #4 Absolute Poison #5 Dying For You #6 Bad Blood #7 Love Lies Bleeding #8 Blood on the Bones #9 A Thrust to the Vitals #10 Death Dues #11 All the Lonely People #12 Death Dance #13 Deadly Reunion #14 Kith and Kill #15 Asking For It #16 The Spanish Connection #17 Game of Bones #18

 

'Sharpens the appetite for more.' PUBLISHERS WEEKLY 

 

 

Book Length: 296

Rafferty & Llewellyn British Mystery Series

Dead Before Morning #1

Down Among the Dead Men #2

Death Line #3

The Hanging Tree #4

Absolute Poison #5

Dying For You #6

Bad Blood #7

Love Lies Bleeding #8

Blood on the Bones #9

A Thrust to the Vitals #10

Death Dues #11

All the Lonely People #12

Death Dance #13

Deadly Reunion #14

Kith and Kill #15

Asking For It #16

The Spanish Connection #17

Game of Bones #18

• Language: English
• Publisher: Solo Books
• Release date: Jan 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781498917292

Geraldine Evans

A Little Laughter. A Little Mayhem. A Little MURDER... British mystery author Geraldine Evans is a traditionally published author (Macmillan, St Martin's Press, Hale, Severn House) who turned indie in 2010. Her mysteries include the soon-to-be 18-strong Rafferty & Llewellyn series of British Mysteries, whose protagonist, DI Joe Rafferty, comes from a family who think -- if he must be a copper -- he might at least have the decency to be a bent one. Her second is the 2-strong Casey & Catt British Mysteries, with protagonist DCI 'Will' Casey, whose drugged-up 'the Sixties never died', hippie parents, also pose the occasional little difficulty. She has also published The Egg Factory, a standalone mystery/thriller set in the infertility industry, Reluctant Queen, a biographical historical, about the little sister of Henry VIII, romance (under the pseudonym of Maria Meredith), and non-fiction (some under the pseudonym of Genniffer Dooley-Hart). Geraldine is a Londoner, who moved to a Norfolk (UK) market town in 2000. Her interests include photography, getting to grips with photo manipulation software, learning keyboards and painting portraits with a good likeness, but little else to recommend them. Why not sign up to her (irregular) newsletter for news of new releases, bargain buys and free offers? You can unsubscribe at any time and your email address will be kept private. Here's the newsletter link: http://eepurl.com/AKjSj WEBSITE: http://geraldineevansbooks.wordpress.com

Book preview

Dead Before Morning

A Rafferty & Llewellyn British Mystery

Geraldine Evans

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

Blurb and Reviews

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

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Chapter One

Chapter Two

AUTHOR BIO/CONTACT DETAILS

BOOKS BY GERALDINE EVANS

BRITISH ENGLISH USAGE AND SPELLING

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Copyright Page

Dead Before Morning

Geraldine Evans

Published by Geraldine Evans

Copyright 1993 (hardback) and 2011 (digital) 2020 (Paperback) Geraldine Evans

Discover other books by Geraldine Evans at: https://geraldineevansbooks.com

Sign up for my Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/beYGIP

This is a work of fiction . All characters, names, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, locations or events is coincidental or fictionalised.

Except for text references by reviewers the reproduction of this work in any form is forbidden without permission from the author.

License Note: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy of each recipient Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The author has asserted her moral rights

Cover art by: www.covershotcreations/Nicole

All Rights Reserved

Blurb and Reviews

Detective Inspector Joseph Rafferty is investigating his first murder since his promotion.

What a shame the victim is a girl with no name, no face, and no ID, found in a place she had no business being—a private psychiatric hospital.

With everyone denying knowing anything about the victim, Rafferty has his work cut out. So he could do without his ma setting him another little problem: that of getting his cousin ‘Jailhouse Jack’ out of the cells.

Although he has no shortage of suspects, proof is not so plentiful. It is only when he remembers his forgotten promise to get his cousin sprung that Rafferty gets the first glimmer that leads to the solution to the case

Reviews

‘GREAT CHARACTERS. From the first page of the first book I felt I knew Rafferty and Llewellyn. I liked them both and the relationship between them. These are well plotted stories that keep me guessing. I enjoy a good murder mystery and find these particularly enjoyable. I like that there is no graphic violence and I love the humour.’ READER REVIEW

‘They solve their crimes and their own personal dilemmas in doing so. Gave me a good feeling. I thoroughly enjoyed these books. I liked getting to know the characters and have bought some of the others to keep me going. Great British crime solving, dropping clues along the way - fab!’ READER REVIEW

’

‘DIFFERENT BUT ENJOYABLE I purchased one of these series & enjoyed that so the box set was a no brainer. Enjoyed the stories & no doubt will read more in future. READER REVIEW’

‘FANTASTIC. First time I have read any of Geraldine Evans, was amazed, so much detail, and it is all explained at the end, will differently be reading more of this series.’READER REVIEW

‘Evans’ humour seriously added to my enjoyment of her book. This, her first, as well as the rest in the series, are well written with standout central characters and clever plots.’ AUNT AGATHA’S BOOKSHOP, ANN ARBOUR, USA ON DEAD BEFORE MORNING

‘This often-comic tale sharpens the appetite for more.’ PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

‘Classic crime. I was definitely hooked into this story and needed to know who had committed the crime and why. It was very well written and flowed nicely from scene to scene.’ ALEXIS LENO, AUTHOR OF SHIFTING FATE, A FANTASY NOVEL

‘A police procedural with hidden depths.’ READER REVIEW

‘Great storyline. Enjoyed every moment.’ READER REVIEW

‘Loved the twist in the tale.’ READER REVIEW

‘Good read. Enjoyed the characters.’ READER REVIEW

‘Great series! Thoroughly enjoyed.’ READER REVIEW

‘Intriguing. Well-written.’ READER REVIEW

‘Delightful and intriguing British cozy. I particularly liked the character development of this author. Her characters have real depth.’ READER REVIEW

‘I’m really enjoying the author’s subtle wit and the overall quality of the writing.’ READER REVIEW

‘Very, very good mystery. ‘READER REVIEW

‘Good book. I rarely want to read the sequels of books, but this is one series that I’ll read.’ READER REVIEW

‘He is smart, and funny and impetuous and generally a very good cop.’ READER REVIEW

Chapter One

This novel is written in British English and uses this language version’s spelling and slang. You will find a list of these at the end of this book for any with which you are unfamiliar.

‘I s it yourself?’

Detective Inspector Joseph Aloysius Rafferty winced as his mother’s voice threatened to pierce his eardrum. And, although briefly tempted to plead not guilty, he reluctantly confirmed that yes, it was himself.

Bleary-eyed, he squinted at the clock in the living room and stifled a groan. Six-thirty. What did his ma want at this hour?

Already feeling sorry for himself, as he turned back, Rafferty caught an unwelcome glimpse of his bloodshot-eyes and woebegone face in the hall mirror, and immediately felt worse. He made a mental note to move the mirror to somewhere he wouldn’t in future receive such a jolt of reality. Like the council tip.

Really, a hangover, a murder, and his mother all in the same morning were more than any man should be expected to cope with. Especially him. Especially after less than four hours’ sleep.

And especially when this investigation would be his first murder case as Senior Investigating Officer. He was keen to do well. But the sadistic fates had already done their worst, and put the kibosh on that the previous evening, by persuading him he deserved a celebration on his promotion. With today booked as a day off, he felt entitled to let his hair down.

And what a celebration it was. A pub-crawl that took in five pubs; a side-shoot to the Indian – and then three more pubs. As far as Rafferty knew, anyway. There may have been more, but his memory was hazy on the point. At any event, a good time was had by all.

Only, like all pleasures, they have to be paid for. And now, here he was, on the morning after the night before. And the reckoning had been called in. So the last thing he needed was ma putting on her best wheedling voice. Rafferty hurried to put his excuses together before she got going.

‘I can’t stop, Ma. Sergeant Llewellyn will be picking me up any time, and—’

‘Sure, then, I won’t keep you above a minute, son. But I didn’t know who else to turn to. And what with the wedding and all...’

Rafferty frowned, and stared for enlightenment at his rapidly cooling mug of tea. Nada. News of the murder had already taken its toll on his hung-over wits, but the word wedding on his ma’s tongue was even more worrying, and he struggled to get his brain into gear.

‘What wedding?’

‘I know Jack’s only a distant cousin,’ was her brisk retort, ‘but surely, even you can’t have forgotten that he’s over from Dublin to marry my niece, Deirdre.’

That wedding. Bloody marvellous. How could it have slipped his mind that Jailhouse Jack, the world’s most incompetent criminal, was preparing to plight his troth and pass his genes on to the next generation? What a wonderful addition to a policeman’s close family the bridegroom would be.

Rafferty breathed a relieved sigh as he recalled that the happy couple would be going back to Ireland straight after the wedding. Surely even Jack could stay out of trouble for the few weeks he’d be—

‘He’s in a spot of bother, Joseph.’

Ma didn’t pause for either of them to catch their breath, but told him his troublesome cousin was being held at Harcombe nick on suspicion of lifting a lorry load of whisky. ‘I know what you’re going to say,’ she continued in a ‘Do you want to make something of it?’ tone, before he could get a word in, ‘but this time I’m convinced he didn’t do it. And sure now, wouldn’t it be a shame if he got put away right before the wedding?’

Rafferty weighed-up his options: telling the truth, or lying? But she was off again, and he missed his chance. Probably just as well.

‘Can you go and see him, and sort it out, son? I wouldn’t ask, only I’ve had Deirdre here half the night, crying her eyes out. She’s scared she’ll have to cancel the wedding.’

Rafferty pulled a face. Better for her – and him – if she did. Jack was already causing him aggravation, so God knew what trouble he’d manage if they got as far as the altar. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough on his plate with his first murder investigation as SIO, without being expected to sort out Jack’s little problem.

Usually the Irish Sea, and a three-time’s removed cousin-ship stopped Jack from embarrassing him. But now, in all his eejit-glory, was he giving Rafferty an involuntary head’s-up on what to expect after the wedding?

His head started pounding even more at the possibility, and he thought longingly of escape. To just sink into oblivion in his bed and let Jack and the rest of the world go hang for the remainder of the day. He was wrenched away from such an alluring prospect by his ma’s sharp voice repeating the question.

Indignant that his own ma should expect him to do the shiny knight bit, and for Jailhouse Jack, of all people, Rafferty felt aggrieved.

‘I hear you, Ma. There’s no need to get shirty.’ Rafferty wouldn’t mind so much, but one of his old enemies was in charge at Harcombe; as soon as he set foot in that nick, and revealed his mission of mercy, the shit would be all over the aspidistra.

His relatives were the limit. Most held the conviction that if they must have a copper in the family, he might at least have the decency to be a bent one. Of course they all knew who to come running to when their alternative life-styles landed them in shtook.

With a gentle – in consideration for his hungover state – shake of the head, a previous half-remembered conversation entered his brain. He managed a bedraggled half-smile, and consoled himself that he hadn’t made a firm date with the looming fates. If memory served, the wedding was still two weeks off. Jack could cool his heels for a bit, and by then, Deirdre might have regained her sanity.

Ma must have read his mind, with that uncanny ability of mothers everywhere, because she commented tartly, ‘It’s not everyone that avoids matrimony like you, Joseph.’

He ground his teeth. Was she ever going to stop harping on about that? Unfortunately, the hoped-for remarriage of her braw boy was ever close to his mother’s heart.

Rafferty broke in before she got into her stride. His voice as firm as he could muster, he said, ‘I haven’t the time for that, Ma.’ A glance out of the window of his Essex flat told him the day was bleak; the shoreline barely visible through the thick mist hanging over the North Sea. He shivered. For once he was almost pleased to see his new sergeant drive onto the forecourt.

The almost-pleasure didn’t last long. About as long as it took for Llewellyn to move the car close enough for Rafferty to see his sergeant’s thinly handsome face. Llewellyn consulted his watch and gazed up at Rafferty’s window with a suffering-bravely-borne expression.

Rafferty lips tightened. He already nursed a suspicion that Superintendent Bradley hoped the Welshman would be Rafferty’s nemesis. And the way things were going...

It didn’t encourage fuzzy feelings towards Llewellyn. His new sergeant had transferred from Gwynedd in Wales, and Superintendent Bradley, after interviewing him, seemed to think Llewellyn was the ideal foil. His ideal foil, anyway, if not Rafferty’s.

The Welshman had only been in Essex a month, but already he was getting on Rafferty’s nerves. All right, he was nifty with the computer, but his pernickety personality invited put-downs.

Briefly, Rafferty tuned back in to ma. But she was still commiting Grievous Bodily Harm against his earhole, on her favourite subject of weddings in general, and his in particular. So he pulled the phone away from his ear, and tuned out again.

As though that weren’t enough, Superintendent Bradley had decided he didn’t like Rafferty’s face. If he had a face only a mother could love he might have just shrugged it off. But after nearly five weeks of putting up with Bradley’s snide comments every time he reported to him, the feeling was mutual.

It was fortunate that his promotion had come through before Bradley was confirmed in post, because it was evident that if the super had his way, Rafferty would be bumped down a rank, not up one. Bradley still harboured ambitions in that direction, Rafferty knew. Which made his present fragile state doubly-unfortunate.

It was turning into one of those days. And he hadn’t even left the flat yet.

Rafferty’s mouth turned down as he anticipated the joys of the day ahead, and he almost gave in to his longing for his kind comfy bed. Instead, he forced himself into the challenge of interrupting his ma in full flow.

‘I really must be off. Llewellyn’s here.’ He paused, wished he didn’t have to tell her, but he’d never hear the end of it if she found out from the newspapers. He took a deep breath. ‘There’s been a murder.’ He allowed sufficient time for her to give an echo of the ‘M’ word, then added, ‘rather a nasty one. A young girl.’

According to Bill Beard, the desk sergeant, the girl had been brutally battered, her face left in such a state that it would have looked more at home on a butcher’s slab. ‘She was found at that private psychiatric hospital here in Elmhurst and—’

His ma’s swift intake of breath echoed down the line. ‘It’ll be one of them dangerous cyclepaths escaped. They’re always doing it. The people in charge of these places should be locked up. You stay well away, son. Let that superintendent sort it out.’

Rafferty gave a careful, hollow laugh. ‘I am a policeman, Ma. And I’ll be in charge of this one. They promoted me, remember?’

Still smarting from his superior sergeant’s last correction of his own imperfect use of the English language, Rafferty said, ‘And it’s psychopath, not cyclepath. Not that he necessarily is one,’ he added in a belated attempt at reassurance. ‘Just because the girl was found in a psychiatric hospital, doesn’t mean one of the patients did it, you know.’

‘Doesn’t mean to say they didn’t either,’ she caustically remarked, tutting. ‘Sly as a fox, some of them. You watch your step, son.’

He intended to. ‘I’d best be off.’ No doubt the rest of the team would already be there, working hard, and calling him rude names in his absence. ‘About Jack, Ma. Stop worrying. I’ll see to it.’ He knew he’d never hear the end of that, either, If he didn’t. But at least she’d dropped the matchmaking-mama role. For now anyway. He lifted the mug of tea to his lips.

‘Thanks son.’ Pride edged some of the worry from her voice as she added, ‘I’ll tell Deirdre that my son, the Police Inspector’s, got it in hand, and Jack’s as good as free.’

Rafferty practically choked on his tea at the obvious capitals and their implication. He wished he shared his ma’s confidence that springing the prospective bridegroom would be as easy as catching him usually was.

‘Well, I won’t make you late for your murder. Look after yourself, Joseph, and don’t take the usual nonsense from any of them high-and-mighty doctors at that hospital. Arrest the lot of them if you have to.’

Rafferty just stopped himself from laughing out loud at this blasphemy from the normally doctor-venerating Kitty Rafferty. It was only his throbbing head that ensured the laugh was cut off at his tonsils.

Dryly, he said, ‘I’ll bear it in mind, Ma. Good-bye.’

The constable beckoned the car forward. And as the heavy hospital gates thudded together behind them, Llewellyn's dark eyes took on a mystic light as he remarked ominously, 'There'll be trouble over this one. Mark my words.' Having delivered this cheering prognostication, he said no more.

Rafferty, determined that the Welshman's black prophecy wouldn't undermine his confidence, did his best to ignore him. He was helped in this by his first sight of the house. He came from a long line of builders and house renovators, and its classical Georgian elegance – which the well-tended grounds framed so perfectly – brought Rafferty a few precious moments of delight in a day unlikely to contain many pleasures.

The handsome, seven-bay house was built of pale Caen stone, a popular import in such a stone-impoverished part of the country. The projecting central section was crowned by a graceful pediment, and the ground floor, raised above the semi-basement, was reached by stone steps. Slender pillars flanked the canopied front door and they were flanked in turn by single windows with two more on either side of the recessed sections of the house. Perfection.

Just then, the sun came out from behind the early morning cloud, and he stared, as all thirteen of the large sash windows seemed to wink at him, like all-seeing eyes, as though mocking his ability to discover what they had witnessed in the night. A sight undoubtedly shared by the secretive, half-closed dormer eyes of the attic floor.

The optical illusion fanned the flames of the superstition that Llewellyn had already successfully kindled, and he felt a stirring of unease deep in his gut.

To squash any superstition before it took hold, as they passed the house, Rafferty switched his gaze determinedly ahead.

His Welsh prophet of doom drew up behind the earlier arrivals. 'Dr Dally's here,' Llewellyn remarked unnecessarily, with a sidelong glance at Rafferty. 'He must be nearly finished by now.'

'We all know quick and speedy doesn't always win the race, Sergeant,' retorted Rafferty, stung by the dig. 'Not that the aptly-named Sam ‘Dilly’ Dally's either when it comes to letting us have some results.'

Not for the first, nor the last time that day, Rafferty reflected that it was a pity the girl had chosen a mental hospital in which to get herself murdered; on his first serious case since his promotion too. Now he wondered uneasily if an unpropitious fate was about to enjoy some fun and games at his expense. It wouldn't be the first time.

As they walked round the shrouding screen, Dr Dally raised a shaggy grey eyebrow teasingly. 'Late again, Rafferty?'

Dally's jocular greeting merely earned another scowl. But as Rafferty got his first view of the corpse, he had to swallow hard, again regretting the previous night’s celebratory alcohol intake at his promotion.

The girl was lying on her back and someone had certainly made mincemeat of her. What might once have been a pretty face was now a soggy mess – her teeth were gone, her eyes were gone, her nose was gone – all smashed to a bloody pulp. It looked as if someone had taken a sledge-hammer to her.

Rafferty again swallowed the nausea that rose to his throat. Once he was certain his half-an-egg breakfast would stay down, he ventured grimly, 'The press will have a field day with this one.' Considering it was April, the previous night had been quite balmy, yet, surely, he was only imagining the sickly scent of corruption?

Behind him, Llewellyn remarked in funereal tones, 'So will we all decay. The past is the only dead thing that smells sweet.'

Rafferty gave him a jaundiced look. 'Thank you, Dylan Thomas.'

'Edward Thomas, actually, sir,' Llewellyn corrected, and launched into a mini lecture, apparently believing that it was his duty to lighten the darkness of his boss's ignorance. 'Killed in action in World War One. Then there's R.S. Thomas, the Welsh vicar. He—'

'All right, all right,' Rafferty broke in, irritated by Llewellyn's display of erudition, sure he did it out of some deep, mischievous desire to get under his skin. ‘A murder scene is hardly the place to launch into a history lesson.'

His puce complexion regained some of its usually fresh colour as he put Llewellyn in his place, but it drained away again as he gazed at the dead girl. Poor bitch, he thought. Whoever, whatever she was, she surely hadn't deserved such an end.

Curiously, the naked body was unmarked, and as his gaze travelled over the slim cadaver, he wondered at the unfathomable ways of women. Why would a natural blonde dye her hair black?

Without looking at him, Rafferty told Llewellyn tersely, 'The first priority is going to be to find out who she was. Tell Fraser I want her prints processed urgently.’ He hoped to God they were on file. If they weren’t, it could be a nightmare trying to identify her.

He raised his gaze to Dally, and asked, 'What can you tell me, Sam?'

Sam's plump body rocked back on its heels, and behind his spectacles, his eyes lit up with relish as he watched Rafferty's face. 'You look a bit green, my boy.' He rummaged under his protectives, dug his hand in his back pocket and pulled out a small silver flask. 'Have a medicinal nip. Doctor's orders,' he added firmly as Rafferty hesitated.

Forgetting his scruples, and ignoring Llewellyn’s disapproving look, Rafferty reached gratefully for his medicine and took a swig. 'Should be on prescription.' He grinned as the alcohol hit the spot. 'Irish?'

This brought a snort fron Sam Dally. 'It's only the best that the Highlands can offer. I can see it's wasted on you.’

Taking the flask back, he had a quick nip himself. 'Ah. That's better. Nothing like a hair of the dog for setting a man to rights. And I should know.'

Rafferty brightened, pleased to know he had company in his suffering. Especially when that company was in the rotund shape of the tonic-toting Dally. 'Heavy night?'

Sam nodded. 'Doctors' do at The George,' he explained. 'Annual event. Wouldn't miss it. Our erstwhile chairman's wife, Lady Evelyn Melville-Briggs organises it, so it couldn't fail to go like clockwork. Shame she didn't seem to enjoy it. Not surprising she was so quiet, of course. Her old man was in a towering rage when they arrived.' He snorted again. 'Some hoo-ha about the door-man. I didn't stop to listen to it.'

He put the flask back in his pocket and became briskly professional. 'Been dead at least seven hours. Rigor mortis has started to set in around the head and neck. The blow to the back of the head is probably what killed her.'

Rafferty raised his eyebrows. He could have come to that conclusion for himself. Even with the body lying on its back, he could see the skull was caved in, making an amorphous mess of bone and brain.

Rafferty stomach curdled. And for a moment he thought he really was going to throw up. He kept perfectly still, ordered his stomach to behave and not humiliate him in front of the prize pair of Dally and Llewellyn.

Carefully avoiding another sight of the pitiful corpse, after a few worrying seconds, he raised his gaze. At the edge of the trees, he caught sight of a well-dressed man, pacing with barely contained impatience. He nodded in his direction. 'Who's that?'

Sam followed the direction of Rafferty's gaze, and, in an echo of Llewellyn, he remarked, 'That's Trouble, Rafferty. Trouble with a capital T.' He rubbed his hands together with relish as he glanced sideways at Rafferty. 'That's the owner. Consultant Psychiatrist Dr Anthony Melville-Briggs. But you'll find plain Sir will do. Husband to the Lady Evelyn etc, etc. I wouldn't like to be in your shoes when

Reviews for Dead Before Morning

[calicocat901 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I received this for a review from LibraryThing. Not a cozy mystery as it is labeled, but it is a good summer read. Interesting detectives, I liked how their partnership developed throughout the book, and the plot was tricky enough to keep me interested. I felt there were a few plot holes, and the clues were very subtle. The book also needed some editing. It is a good start to an English detective murder mystery series, and I look forward to reading more.

[robynelee · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Really a 3.5, but if you enjoy English mysteries, this is the book for you. The relationship between the detective and his sergeant was a mix of Ruth Rendell and Elizabeth George. Plenty of twists and turns and good character back stories to make for an entertaining series. I'm curious to follow the lives of the two main characters and to learn more about each of their past lives, which were hinted at with a very few details. A copy was received in exchange for an honest review.

[deltaqueen50 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I am seemingly unable to resist the pull of a new series and once again I have read the first in a police procedural series. Dead Before Morning by Geraldine Evans introduces the mismatched pair of detectives as Inspector Rafferty and DS Llewellyn methodically work their way through their first case together. A young woman has been murdered and found on the grounds of a posh private psychiatric hospital. They have more than a few suspects and soon find out this is far more complicated than it first seemed. The recently promoted Rafferty is from a lower class background, he’s rough around the edges and relies on his gut feelings far more than the better educated Llewellyn who keeps a firm control on his emotions and works methodically through the clues. Of course, these differences actually make these two a formidable team.The pacing is quick, the dialogue is lively and I am not sorry that I will be reading more of these mysteries as I went for the bargain purchase and now have a few sitting on my kindle. I did enjoy the relationship between Rafferty and his mother, who is a determined matchmaker and desperately wants to see her son settled.

[ecw0647 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Recently promoted DI Rafferty and his overly-educated sergeant Llewellyn (shades of Lewis) are sent out to a local mental hospital where a young woman, her face smashed into an unrecognizable pulp, has been found on the grounds.Billed as a detective cozy mystery, I would probably classify it more as a police procedural. The ending was perhaps too “deus ex machina”, as I’m always a bit suspicious of the sudden illumination to the detective of who did it and why.