Hung Out To Dry

By Milly Reynolds

Scarecrows were usually jolly fellows, brightening the fields and scaring the crows. At least that is what DI Mike Malone thought until he was called upon to investigate a figure that had appeared overnight in a field. With his trusty Detective Sergeant, Alan Shepherd, at his side, Mike finds that he has a gruesome crime to solve. The question is, how many more scarecrows will there be?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Milly Reynolds
• Release date: Apr 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005750718

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

Prologue

Simon Leavesley opened the door to another beautiful September morning. His wife, Sarah, was still in the bath which is where she seemed to spend most of her time. As he got into the car with a glance up to the frosted bathroom window, he wondered whether he had done the right thing. Whether marriage was for him. He pulled out of his drive and asked himself the same question that he asked himself every day. Was he happy? The answer - the same as it was every morning. He didn’t know. What was happiness anyway? He had a wife, a home, a good job and money in the bank. That should make him happy, shouldn’t it? He also had Jocelyn, the mother-in-law from Hell. She definitely didn’t make him happy and sadly, he could see Sarah becoming more and more like her. He envied his friend, Mike Malone. Not because he didn’t have a mother-in-law, but because Mike’s answer to Simon’s daily question would always be a beaming smile that was echoed in the face of his gorgeous wife, Fi.

As he approached the main road, Simon caught a glimpse of a figure in Pete Dean’s field and he slowed down. Wasn’t that …? Simon gave himself a virtual slap. It was a scarecrow. A well dressed scarecrow. Pete must have developed a sense of humour. Either that or it had been Tracey’s idea. As he turned towards town Simon wondered why he hadn’t spotted it on the way home from work last night.

1

Shepherd and I had decided to treat ourselves to a hearty breakfast. It wasn’t something that we normally indulged in, neither of our wives believed in the health-giving qualities of a good old English fried breakfast, but every now and again a plate of artery hardening goodness was just what a man needed. Nikki Carr had stayed in town after her mother’s death and had taken over the running of Tony’s cafe with the help of Jan Poskys, who had been one of Matt Fairhead’s drivers. I did wonder whether there was more to the relationship than boss and employee, and the romantic in me hoped that there was. Why Nikki had never married was a bit of a mystery. I would have said she was in her early thirties, she was petite and blonde, what was there not to like? She was also a pretty good cook, not up to her father’s standards yet, but getting there. As for Jan, he was tall and muscular, someone who liked the gym. He was also reasonably good looking, not that I was any judge, but with his close cut blond hair, he looked like an action hero from any one of the thousand action films on the box. They would make a good match.

How are you, Nikki? I asked as she put our plates down in front of us.

I’m good, Mr Malone. She smiled at me but it was the plastic smile that a customer is entitled to. Sadly, Nikki lacked her father’s good humour.

Glad to hear it, Nikki. This looks good, as always.

Enjoy. She was gone.

I looked down at my plate, savouring its beauty before I destroyed it. Golden triangles of buttered toast formed a guard of honour while, in between them, there were three glistening mushrooms, their velvety fronds enticing me to take them first. But I also had to consider the rashers of crispy bacon and the lone sausage which was fighting to keep its toes from the sea of boiling orange baked beans that were inching towards it, watched by a ruby red tomato. For me, however, the star of the show was always the egg, that golden yellow sun within its fluffy pure white cloud. Heaven on a plate.

Are you going to eat it or watch it? Shepherd laughed as he polished off his sausage.

You should always take time to appreciate a thing of beauty. I opened my palms to showcase my plate. This is a thing of beauty.

Which is getting cold.

Giving him a wry smile, I cut my sausage in two and plunged one half in the golden yolk which spilled out over the white like a trail of lava. It was time to eat.

Nellie Brady looked at her watch and sighed. The shop should have been open half an hour ago. Where was he? She didn’t have time to hang around, the doctor was due to visit Charlie later to appraise him and she needed to be there.

Morning, Nellie.

The voice at her shoulder made her jump. Oh, hello, Albert. How’s Doris?

Albert Fisher smiled. Baking. He patted his stomach. You know Doris, never out of the kitchen.

That’s good. She glanced at her watch. Busy?

Always. A farm doesn’t run itself. As I needed to pop up to the dentist, I told Doris I’d pick her shoes up. Looks like she’ll have to do it herself.

I wanted to pick up Charlie’s shoes but I’ll have to make another journey. He could have put a sign up if he was closing today, Nellie grumbled.

It might be a family emergency, Nellie. You never know.

Jeff doesn’t have a family, does he?

Albert Fisher rubbed his chin. You’ve got me there, Nellie. Do you know, I don’t know. I’ve never heard him speak of a wife or kids.

I’m sure he’s single. He always sits on his own at Midnight Mass and Christmas is usually a time for family, isn’t it?

You’re right there. Maybe he’s ill. Got to get on. Regards to Charlie.

And tell Doris to keep baking. Nellie watched Albert Fisher trundle off before straightening her coat and making for home. The shoes would have to wait.

That hit all the spots. I leaned back in my seat, coffee in hand, while my stomach slept the sleep of the well fed.

Don’t forget that I am going to Northfields this afternoon to talk to Years Five and Six about computer safety and cyber-bullying.

I hadn’t. I’m glad you volunteered. I can find my way around a computer but those kids would put me to shame.

Well, computers weren’t invented when you were a lad, Shepherd laughed. These days kids can navigate the Net before they can walk.

Maybe.

I thought back to the story in the paper that Fi had shown me, the story that had prompted me to organise these visits to schools. In my day, a bully got into your face, you knew who your tormenter was. Now they hid behind fake profiles and false names on message boards. In my day, you could run and hide or fight back. Now the messages were constant, a continual drip, drip into the mind until life ceased to be worth living. The news report was of a twelve year old girl who had killed herself in her bedroom because of constant taunts about her looks, her weight, her family. What made it even worse was that after her death, these faceless cowards turned their venom onto her older sister, attacking her for not being strong enough to stop her sibling’s suicide. If Shepherd’s talk could save one life, it would be worth it.

Penny for them? he asked.

My thoughts are worth much more than that. If you can make one person think again before sending that rude text, then you can, potentially, stop a young person from taking their own life.

This is one of those times when we will never know if we have made a difference or not, isn’t it? No one will come to us and say ‘because of you …’

I looked at the young man opposite me, at the dedication to his vocation. There was no one I would rather have as my number two. True. But at least we will know that we have tried. Come on, let’s see what problems Grayson has for us today?

Shirley Dean paid Rads and then looked around for a seat. Helen Morgan was sitting on her own in the corner, studying her phone. Shirley paused for a moment and then decided to join her. They had grown up in the same street as girls and although they had taken different paths as they had got older, that childhood bond was still there.

Helen, can I join you?

Helen looked up, her shoulder length hair forming an impenetrable veil to her feelings. Shirley. Please, if you don’t mind being tainted by sitting with me. Shirley could hear the bitterness in her voice.

Don’t be daft. Shirley sat down. How are you?

Life is just fine as long as you don’t mind being treated like a leper.

It’ll soon be yesterday’s news. Folks will soon find something else to fill their brains.

Maybe. I hoped it would all die down after it came to court but no, the press coverage just rejuvenated the story and gave it new legs. I could kill him, I really could. Shirley put a hand on her friend’s arm. Al has always been trouble - you must remember what he was like as a kid.

Shirley nodded. She had always been very wary of Helen’s brother. Even in school there had been stories, but he never got caught. Until now.

But to drag Karl into his net. Helen shook her head sadly. Karl was a good lad until Al decided to take an interest in him. If Dale and I had still been together ….

No. Dale was a bully, you were well shot of him. The way he knocked you and Karl around - Karl didn’t need a dad like him.

Maybe, but he might not be in jail now.

You’ll never know. With good behaviour Karl will be out in a couple of years, he’s still young.

But he’ll have a criminal record.

And he’ll have his mum in his corner to give him support.

Conversation stopped when Rads delivered Shirley’s cappuccino and tea-cake and with the break, Shirley decided to try to restart on a different topic.

So what are you up to at the moment, Helen?

I’m part time at Bentleys in their cafe. I’m supposed to be two days a week but it’s usually a bit more.

That’s good and I expect people talk to you, don’t they?

Helen looked up from her coffee. Yes, they do actually. The majority of them have no idea who I am, I’m just Helen. You know, I never thought of that. What about you?

Pete keeps me on my toes. There’s always something to do. I envy you, I wish I had a job that was away from the farm sometimes. Just an escape, even for one day a week, a chance to meet new faces.

Do it.

Shirley laughed. Can you imagine Pete’s face if I went home and told him I'd got a job.

I can. Helen laughed for the first time since Shirley had sat down. But if he got lonely without you, he could always go and chat to his scarecrow.

Shirley looked up from buttering her tea-cake. What scarecrow?

"The one in your main field. It looks pretty good, very well dressed. You’ve certainly set the standard if any of the other farmers