Beauty Sleep

By Milly Reynolds

In this latest Mike Malone Mystery, Mike has two cases to solve. Firstly, the Blob is still roaming the riverbanks in the midnight hours. Who is he/she? Secondly, and much more serious, sixth-formers from the local Academy are going missing. Is there a serial killer at loose in Mike's little town?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Milly Reynolds
• Release date: Apr 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463566923

Milly Reynolds

As you may have already guessed, Milly Reynolds is not my real name. Like my 'hero' Detective Inspector Mike Malone, I also hide my real identity. Having 'retired' from my job, I was a full-time teacher in a secondary school, I decided to pursue my dream of becoming a writer. So why Mike Malone? I love all things detective and wanted to create my own series. However, I decided not to go for the deep, dark thriller - I could never compete with the masters of that genre, like Jo Nesbo whose books I adore? Therefore I came to the decision that the Mike Malone series would be off-beat. I like to think that there is humour in my books; I don't want to scare people, I want to make them chuckle - there is not enough laughter in the world at the moment. As the series has progressed, I have become very attached to Mike; he is the comfortable pair of slippers that I put on at night. My husband has also become attached to Fi and I am under strict instructions not to let anything happen to her - yet. Living in Lincolnshire, I love the flat, endless landscapes and want these to be seen in my books alongside places that I know and love. Mike Malone has moved from the city to Lincolnshire and has fallen in love with the place; me, I was born here and can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be. However, although Mike was my first creation, he is not the only one. I have also created Jack Sallt, another Detective Inspector. Jack is grittier than Mike and there is not the humour in his stories that there is in the Mike Malone stories. I wanted to write a more 'grown-up' detective story. When time allows this will be developed into a series as well. With two male detectives under my wing, I also decided that it was time for the girls to take centre stage and 'Scorpion's Tale', my first novel featuring Liv Harris, a character in the Jack Sallt novels, was published in 2013. I am hoping that Liv will make another appearance at some point in the future. Not content with crime, I have also wandered into the realms of romance; my first stand-alone novel 'The Unseen Sky' was published August 2011. I'm lucky, I enjoy writing and find it just as relaxing to sit and create as it is to read, although sometimes a good book can get in the way of my writing. I read on average 50/60 books a year and always keep my blog updated with reviews. Anyway, I hope you like my novels. I have fun coming up with ideas for Mike -...

Book preview

Beauty Sleep

By Milly Reynolds

Copyright @ 2019 by Milly Reynolds

Smashword Edition, License Notes

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Prologue

Jenny Wallace watched the second hand on her Star Wars alarm clock going around and around like the thoughts in her head. Four o’clock. She had been clock watching since just after midnight. Her mother had been waiting up for her when she had arrived home; Jenny had wanted to talk to her then, but the argument that had erupted over her failure to be home on time - again - had made that impossible. She knew her mother was wound up tight like a spring at the moment, any slight misdemeanor could cause her to unravel dramatically. Jenny understood this, she wasn’t stupid. Nanna’s illness was affecting her, too. It wasn’t easy for her mum to go to the hospital every day just to watch her own mother slowly slipping away. But did she really have to take her anger out on her every time? Couldn’t they just hug each other instead? However, Jenny also knew that this time she definitely was in the wrong, so maybe it was wiser to stay quiet. A second argument about her decision to cut across the cemetery at night when she had been expressly forbidden to do so was best avoided. No, it was better for her to deal with this in her own way. After all, she wasn’t a child any more, she was nearly fourteen.

The cemetery was as familiar to Jenny as her own yard; she and her friends had always played there in school holidays. It was a fun place to be, but not so much when it got dark. It wasn’t that Jenny was scared of ghosts or things that go bump in the night. It was more to do with the gangs of lads that would gather there at night with their cans of lager and their funny cigarettes. But when she was running late, it was still the quickest way back to the farm, especially as she knew where the lads usually met so it was easy to avoid them. Therefore, it had been a shock when she had heard rustlings and muffled groans. With her heart thudding in her chest she had dropped to her knees and crept slowly forward, trying to crawl away from the noises, to avoid being seen. When everything had gone silent, Jenny had found herself confused. Which way should she go? There had been no sounds to guide her any more. Making up her mind she had edged forward, keeping low beside a stone tomb. She had just reached its edge when a hand had smacked down in front of her face, leaving Jenny too shocked to even scream. She had frozen, watching the fingers clenching and unclenching; there seemed to be something desperate about the action. Curiosity had eventually conquered Jenny’s fear and she had inched forward until her nose was past the tomb and she had found herself looking into the eyes of a girl she recognised from school. Jenny hadn’t been able to see anything except her eyes, but as the noises started again she had heard a man grunting like a pig. The girl’s eyes, had held onto her own, and Jenny had been surprised to see laughter in them. The shock when she had realised what was going on in the darkness had brought a wave of embarrassment crashing over her. She had scurried away as fast as she had been able.

Turning over, Jenny looked at the clock again. Ten past four. She closed her eyes and hoped for sleep.

Chapter 1

The morning was like every other January morning that had ever been. Cold. Too cold. Scarves and woolly hats were not fashionable but at least they stopped the frosty wind from nipping at my ears. I glanced across at Shepherd, envious of how he managed to make a hat look stylish. Beside him, I felt like an aged tramp and I regretted the passing of my youth. Still, life was definitely better now that I was a ‘grown-up’; I told myself that every morning as I cajoled my aching joints into action.

It had been an early start this morning, awakened by Grayson reporting a missing girl; sixteen year old Zofia Klusek had not returned home from school the previous day.

Why didn’t the mother miss her last night? I asked Shepherd as we reached our destination.

Mrs Klusek is an auxiliary at the hospital. She finished her shift at ten thirty and by the time she drove home from Boston, it was past eleven and she assumed that her daughter was already in bed. He waited for my response before knocking.

She didn’t check on her?

No.

What about the husband?

Michal Klusek has gone back to Poland, his father was involved in a car accident last week.

So we have no idea if the daughter came home from school and then left again later, or if she just never returned from school at all?

Correct.

I raised my hand to knock on the door but it fell into empty space as the door was pulled open. Paulina Klusek was stunning, even with eyes that were red from weeping. Her hair was swept back from her face in an untidy bun, her full lips were painted a deep red, but those eyes! Paulina Klusek’s eyes were captivating; dark, deep and liquid. If they had been smiling then I am pretty sure that my breath would have been taken, but even in despair there was something in them that captured the imagination. An artist would have killed to have had her as a model.

It was only when I received a gentle kick on the ankle from Shepherd that I realised that I was staring like some lovestruck schoolboy and I pulled myself together hastily.

Mrs Klusek, I am Detective Inspector Malone and this is Detective Sergeant Shepherd. May we come in?

Silently, Paulina Klusek turned away, leaving us stranded on the doorstep.

Come on. I led the way inside and we tracked Mrs Klusek to an open plan living area and kitchen that was small and neat. A grey and red rug, which lay in the centre of a hardwood floor in front of a large grey sofa, added colour to the seating area; the kitchen area was clean and tidy. It was a well-cared for house. On the wall opposite the sofa, I noticed a frame holding three family photographs. The top image was of the family; mother, father and daughter. It looked recent. The photograph in the centre was of the daughter and the bottom was a shot taken at a family barbeque. I moved closer to examine the centre image, a school photograph. Zofia was looking directly at the camera, a hint of an enigmatic smile on her lips and her fair hair pulled back off her face into a neat ponytail. Although her face was make-up free, I suspected that this young lady knew all about how to use make-up to its full potential. The Mona Lisa smile revealed that maybe Zofia was not the pure angelic girl that, no doubt, her mother was going to tell me all about. With make-up, Zofia could have passed for a young woman in her early twenties. This girl was no innocent, sadly.

When did you last see Zofia, Mrs Klusek?

Pauline Klusek had seated herself on the edge of the sofa; Shepherd and I took our places in chairs facing her.

At breakfast yesterday. I go to work before she gets home from school.

Does she come straight home after school, or does she go to friends?

Zofia is a good girl. She always comes home.

Are you sure that she came home yesterday, Mrs Klusek?

I was pretty sure that I already knew the answer. Mrs Klusek had no idea what her daughter did after school and in the evenings. How could she if she was at work.

I do not know.

Have you tried phoning her friends?

The ones I know, yes. They say she came home.

‘Did you text or phone Zofia at all yesterday, Mrs Klusek? Shepherd stepped in with his own question.

Yes. On my break. It was seven-thirty I think.

And what was Zofia doing?

Homework. We talked about homework. Zofia was finishing her homework.

Did she say she was here? It was my turn to ask questions again.

I never asked where she was. I thought she was here.

I nodded across to Shepherd and we got to our feet.

Do you have a recent photograph of Zofia that we could borrow? We will copy it and get it circulated.

You will give it back to me.

Of course.

Pauline Klusek went across to an Ikea cabinet that was in the corner of the room and took out another school photograph.

This is this year’s photograph. I have not put it on the wall yet.

I looked down at it and there again was the secret smile, the smile that suggested a whole other life that her mother knew nothing about. This time Zofia was wearing some make-up and instantly I was struck by the difference between the two photos. There might only have been a year separating them, but looking at the two images of Zofia, you would have thought they were at least five years apart. The Zofia in the new photograph looked more like a young woman than a schoolgirl.

You will find her, won’t you? Pauline Klusek’s eyes were pleading with me.

We will do our best. I took hold of her hand. We’ll be in touch as soon as we know anything. In the meantime, I will get one of my constables to come and sit with you.

She smiled a weak smile at me before returning to her place on the sofa; my heart wept. This was one of the hardest parts of the job; not offering hope when there might not be any, or giving promises that I may not be able to keep. It was a fine line. There was always the chance that Zofia had decided to spend a night elsewhere, but it was her smile that worried me. It was too advanced for her years and that was dangerous. As Shepherd and I left the room, Pauline Klusek never even looked up.

Chapter 2

Bob Archer wiped the bar with one hand while the other held open the book that Nina Richards had recommended. It wouldn’t have been his first choice, but he was enjoying it. The characters were holding his attention even if military stores were not his thing. He did like the idea of a novel picking up the story of Dr Watson after Sherlock Holmes’ demise at the Reichenbach Falls, and why not use World War One as a backdrop. The author had added lots of historical details but also written a cracking tale. He would have to see what other suggestions Miss Richards - Nina - had to fill his bookcase. Thinking of Nina Richards brought Bob to a grinding halt; he closed the book and pushed the cloth to one side. He sighed. Nina was a warm lady but why would she ever take notice of him? All of those years when he only had food for company had hardly made him husband material. What woman would ever give him a second glance? To be able to chat with her in the bookshop, to listen to her recommend books for him to read, well, that would have to be sufficient. He bent down and picked up the rubbish bags, carried them outside to the bins and then stopped, confused. His bin had a black bag in it already? That was odd, the refuse had been collected yesterday; it should have been empty. Who was putting their rubbish in his bin? Bob put his own bag down and pulled out the