Justice at Christmas 2: Justice series

By M. A. Comley

From New York Times and USA Today best-selling author M A Comley, who has sold over two and a half million copies worldwide.

Santa is dead... 

Or is he? 

DI Lorne Simpkins investigates the murder of a man wearing a Santa suit in the week leading up to Christmas. 

Why was he inside Jilly Cartwright's home? 

Ho...Ho...How did he die and who killed him?

This is a Justice short story of 15000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeamel Publishing Limited
• Release date: Jun 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393147268

M. A. Comley

I am a British author. I moved to France around ten years ago, and that's when I turned my hobby into a career. I'm fortunate to be represented by New York agent Richard Curtis. I share my home with two crazy dogs that like nothing better than to drag their masterful leader (that's me) around the village. I hope you enjoy reading my books, especially the Justice series, Cruel Justice, Impeding Justice,Final Justice,Foul Justice and the newest addition, Guaranteed Justice. Ultimate Justice is due out in Feb 2013. If you'd like to keep up to date with new releases you can find me on facebook by following this link http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mel-Comley/264745836884860 If you fancy a lighter read, why not try one of my romances: A Time to Heal, and A Time for Change--Based on a TRUE story. I also have a selection of short stories and novelettes available which I know you'll enjoy. You can find out more about me at the following blogs. http://melcomley.blogspot.com http://melcomleyromances.blogspot.com  

Book preview

1

It was a few days before Christmas, a quiet week workwise in an otherwise hectic world for DI Lorne Simpkins. She was confined to her office, completing the odious task of getting the paperwork up to date before her Christmas Eve deadline struck. Only three more days to make a dent in a pile the size of Snowdon. Damn, this is mind-numbing. I wish I had a capable partner I could assign this stuff to. Instead, I have Pete, bless his cotton socks.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Pete chose that moment to walk into her office and plonk himself into the chair opposite her. Having fun?

She tutted. You really need to be more adept at reading people’s expressions. You’ve always been hopeless at that, Chunky.

He held his hands up in front of him. Don’t start on me. It’s not my fault you’re in a foul mood.

For your information, I wasn’t. My mood soured when you showed up empty-handed and asked a stupid question.

He pulled a face at her. She should have disciplined him but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Life was never boring with DS Pete Childs around. She was grateful for small mercies there.

Does that mean you want a coffee?

Lorne slow clapped him. Give the man a Chocolate Orange for being so bright.

He stood and muttered all the way to the door, then turned and threw over his shoulder, You can stick your Chocolate Orange where the sun don’t shine. Can’t stand the bloody things.

While you’re out there, will you grab the file I asked you to deal with?

Checking up on me?

She sighed. No, I thought we’d go over a few things before we head home for the evening. I still won’t say no to a coffee, though.

More muttering as he left the office. She chuckled and held on to the belly laugh that was threatening to emerge.

Pete returned carrying a paper cup in one hand and a file in the other. There you go, as requested.

Lorne reached for her drink. Aren’t you going to join me?

Nah, I’ve had my fill for the day. Looking forward to stopping off for a pint on the way home, if you must know.

Lucky you. I have fifty-odd presents to wrap when I get home this evening.

"Fifty? No wonder you’re always complaining about being broke."

Yep, mostly for Charlie, but there are a few for Tom, Jade and Dad in there as well. And for your information, I never profess to be broke.

Whatever.

I detest all this commercialism to Christmas, don’t you?

He shrugged. It’s never really bothered me, you know, not having a family to spend on.

What are you doing for the big day?

His gaze lowered to the desk. No idea. The options are endless, and I’m drowning in invites. It’s hard to choose which one to accept. I wouldn’t want to upset anyone.

Her heart lurched. If she was reading him correctly, he would be spending Christmas Day alone. She’d try to rectify that later by having a word with Tom to see if he’d be open to Pete spending a few hours with them. She’d need to catch her husband at the right moment. Lately, he was prone to flying off the handle at the press of a button.

Hey, where were you? Pete asked.

Sorry, deep in thought about what I’ve got to do over the next few days.

You mean what Tom has got on his plate to do.

Give it a rest, Pete. You’re under the impression he does everything around the house, when he doesn’t. Most of the Christmas activities are down to me—decorating the tree, wrapping the presents, and preparing all the veg for dinner on the day, not to mention making the actual pudding, which I knocked up back in September.

Pete looked up halfway through her speech and pretended to be playing a violin. My heart bleeds for you.

Lorne narrowed her eyes, screwed up a sheet of paper and threw it at him. I might have known I wouldn’t get any damn sympathy from you.

Can we get on with the case? There’s a chance the pub could run dry before I get there at this rate.

As if that’s likely to happen in the centre of London, moron.

Charming. He placed his large hands over his protruding stomach and nodded at the file in front of her.

I can take a hint, big man. She flipped open the file and scanned the notes. "Okay, it’s not our