WHO KILLED LULU? A Belinda Steel Mystery

By Russell Emery

Belinda Steel's mother Louise is brutally murdered -- stabbed a dozen times with a razor-sharp, eight-inch kitchen knife.

The main suspect is her cheating husband, Dr David Steel, caught standing over the body with a knife dripping blood in his hand. It's an open and shut case. Soon, Dave is awaiting trial on a capital charge, with only two possible outcomes: either lethal injection or the electric chair. And he makes things worse by opting to conduct his own defense.

Dave's daughter Belinda is devastated. She knows her parents had a turbulent marriage, but begins to think, or maybe just hoping, Dave didn't do it. She has lost one parent, she doesn't want to lose another. Using her IT skills, determined nature and forensic mindset, she sets out to see what really happened.

This case also proves to be a journey towards self-discovery; Belinda recognizes her true passion – fighting for a cause. Author Russel Emery's heroine loves fighting for those suffering from the miscarriage of justice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Russell Emery
• Release date: Oct 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201065119

Book preview

Chapter 1

Louise Lulu Steel didn't know she would die violently on the day before her 47th birthday. That sunny afternoon, the statuesque brown-eyed blonde stood on the balcony of her apartment gazing out at the Atlantic waves that washed the soft sand seven storeys below her. She was contemplating history and future prospects in her new community – Francesca Beach in Florida. And Lulu's thoughts were about her twenty-four years of intermittent cohabitation with a husband who had been a serial cheater.

A nice guy interested in community service, a good provider with a medical practice, a handsome man now in his early fifties, Dr David Steel had been regarded as a catch by all of Lulu's friends. Especially back in their courting days when the dashing young medic had swept Lulu off her feet. Despite being an excellent lover to Louise, unfortunately Dave frequently felt compelled to exercise his amatory skills outside the marriage. The day she had first walked out on him with one-year-old Belinda in her arms, Lulu had muttered a curse at Dave out of the taxicab window, Sonovabitch! You'll never learn to keep it in your pants! You’re just a lying, cheating bastard that no one can trust. But now, at long last, after years of turbulence and many separations, Lulu was once more sleeping with her often estranged but never divorced husband.

After being apart and lonely for twelve months in their last quasi divorce, they negotiated a reconciliation and attempted a fresh start away from the big city. After all, although he may have been a cheating bastard, he could make Lulu laugh. And besides, of all his passing conquests, he had never truly loved anyone but her.

He kept himself busy, having started a small medical practice and taking an interest in local government. And, touch wood, for nearly eighteen months, he had kept it in his pants. Lulu had a morning job with a booming realty agency in the little town of Francesca Beach which she loved, and had made quite a few new friends in the fast-developing community.

The door chime rang. Lulu turned, left the balcony, and skipped through to open the door. She said, What the . . . before a fist slammed into her right eye, her nose and upper jaw making a cracking sound. Dazed, Lulu reeled backwards taking three unsteady steps away from the door to catch her breath and steady her gaze. Trying to get ahold of the situation, all she saw was this yellow figure holding something shiny. As she tried to grab the figure in front of her, a razor-sharp chef's knife sank deep into her throat. Astonished, she gasped and staggered further away along the hall, releasing her grip on the figure. All Lulu could hear was the frantic yelling of someone and the thrashing sound of the knife entering her body several times.As the final thrust occurred, tears rolled down her cheeks, knowing she had fought hard in her battle to stay alive. Lulu blacked out as she toppled onto the wood-block floor, and then her heart stopped beating.

Chapter 2

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In the last few days before his wife was murdered, Dr. David Steel’s heart was full of joy. His secret plans for Lulu’s 47th birthday were working out to perfection. He was trying to surpass the birthday celebration he had organized for Lulu nearly one year before when she had turned 46. That happy, exciting day played over and over in his memory.

At that time, the Steels had just moved into a new condo on the top floor of the Empress, an east-facing beach-front apartment block of seven storeys. Lulu’s morning job at Masterman Realty was going well, and to cap it all, their daughter Belinda had come from Montana for a short visit. Belinda and Dave had served Lulu her birthday breakfast in bed that Sunday morning orange juice, pancakes and syrup with a big mug of Americano, just the way she liked it.

He waited until she had drained her coffee and said, The best is yet to come, Lulu. Your birthday present awaits you in the kitchen steel for a Steel. She smiled back at him and her daughter, and it was one of those moments when Dave had been glad he was managing to control his philandering instincts. His heart swelled with love for his two favorite women in the whole wide world. Unfortunately, he knew Belinda was completely on her mother’s side when it came to marital discord. A love-hate relationship had been cooking for years between the father and daughter. Dave was well aware that it would take time to win Belinda over, but if he succeeded, it would be his reward for good behavior and build an unbreakable family bond.

Lulu got out of bed, slipped into her robe, and made her way into the kitchen, where a large square package sat on the island bench. As Belinda giggled, her mother reached into a drawer for a box cutter and soon had her birthday gift stripped bare of all its wrappings. What was revealed was a block of blonde wood with a dozen kitchen knives inserted in slots. Lulu gasped and turned to Dave. She gave him what he thought of as her special occasion kiss. Oh Dave, this is the wildest dream come true. How did you know?

With a culinary passion acquired during a long-ago internship in a five-star restaurant, Lulu had often spoken of how important good knives are, and Dave had done a little research. He had discovered the exclusive Japanese brand Kitchen Sword. which, like Rolls Royce automobiles and Leica cameras was said to be well worth the exorbitant price.

Steel for Mrs. Steel, said Lulu. Kitchen Sword! I don’t believe it. Her eyes were sparkling as she pulled an eight-inch chef’s knife out of the block. It’s light, well balanced, and just look at the handle – that’s African hardwood, I think. Belinda pouted. Mom – it seems like a nice knife, but forgive me for asking, what makes it so special? You’re like a kid on Christmas morning.

Nice? This is a lot more than nice. Tell her, Dave. Well, Belinda, according to what the dealer told me, these blades were forged by an individual master craftsman. They showed me a video of him at work, he’s called Master Hiro, an old guy in his seventies. His blades are so exclusive that each is laser etched with batch and serial numbers. And those engravings entitle the owner to a free annual sharpening service.

Look, Bel, said her mother, holding out the knife. The characters near the handle spell out the Japanese for Kitchen Sword, followed by the serial numbers. And the cutting edge is unbelievable, just a couple of molecules thick under an electron microscope. This knife makes working in the kitchen an even greater pleasure. I shall cook for you two tonight. I’m dying to put these beauties to work. And Dave got another special kiss. You didn’t spend too much on them, I hope.

Not saying, Lulu. But even at double what they cost me, the smile on your face would be well worth it. The special day had continued with a family walk along the beach, where Belinda stumbled upon a white sand dollar shell, which she presented to her mother as a birthday gift from the sea. Looking at them, Dave could see a lot of himself in his daughter – glossy dark hair, green eyes, analytical mind, and a determined will.

The happy trio stopped off in a beach-front bar for a light lunch of seafood and a bottle of good Californian sauvignon blanc. Dave had his old favorite, black mussels with rice, Belinda chose red snapper ceviche. Lulu smiled at Dave and said, I can hardly concentrate on this oyster salad, for thinking about how it would feel to make it myself with a big iceberg lettuce using my new chef’s knife. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. Gonna make you two a nice salad tonight, okay?

They had strolled back to the Empress where Dave opted for a short siesta, while the two women sat down on the couch for a long catch-up conversation. He passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow and surfaced again at four o'clock. The good doctor stretched and yawned, splashed his face with water, and went through to the dining room, where a chocolate cake sat on the table, and a bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket.

The door chime sounded. Dave had answered to find a short young man with curly black hair and sharp blue eyes smiling at him. Name's Carl Rogers. Just moved in down the hall, so I thought I'd welcome my fellow newcomers with a bottle of wine. And he thrust a couple of bottles of cold Moët et Chandon into Dave's grasp. By the time the second bottle had been popped, all three members of the Steel family were listening to ‘Crazy Carl’ as he was known by his fans, fascinated by his tales of life as a vlogger – a video logger. Belinda knew what video logging was, but her parents needed an explanation.

Mom, if you’re online and you come across a person staring back at you, then that’s a video logger, vlogger for short.

Oh, one of those talking heads who always ask you to hit the subscribe button? Guilty as charged, Ma’am, said Carl, with a brilliant smile. When my head starts to talk, a lot of people listen to me. Maybe they enjoy what I say. I suppose they must, although some think my reviews are a little out there or crazy hence the nickname.  I’ve got a million and a half followers, which makes my humble vlog ideal for advertising, especially regarding my critiques of books and movies. In addition, there’s an income stream as an affiliate of sites who pay me when my vlog sends customers to them.

I must log on and become a subscriber, Dave said, if I make it in the local election and become a commissioner on top of my practice, I’ll have to choose books and movies with care. He refilled his glass, took a sip, and went on. I remember reading about some old professor back in my college days who paid students to go to the movies on his behalf and write reports. He used these to decide on his one film of the week. He was mad about cinema but was so busy he could only spare the time on Saturday nights. That’s exactly what I do, said Carl, my vlog is a time saver for moviegoers and readers at both ends of the spectrum. A lot of my followers don’t buy the books or see the movies I recommend. But they always log in because they find my opinions reliable – they love what I hate and vice versa.

Belinda smiled, Carl, that’s brilliant. Even if you pan a movie, the studio and distributor know you’re building their audience! Lulu nibbled at a small slice of cake. Then she frowned and said, But isn’t it very expensive running your own studio? And what about staff? Carl responded, I am the staff. My apartment is also the studio. I have a bookcase which serves as a backdrop, a tripod with a small mirrorless stills camera which also does video, and a couple of lights.

Lulu looked puzzled. But what about . . . Can I say ‘broadcast’ expenses? Don’t you need a lot of big machinery to go online? No, Ma’am. All I need is a YouTube channel, and that’s affordable, believe me. I download everything from the camera onto my hard drive, then a couple of clicks gets me online. Dave interrupted, But Carl, what’s your day job if that’s not a rude question? The vlog! It began as a side hustle when I was still working as a chartered accountant. But now I’m paying plenty to the taxman. All by reading new books and catching the latest movies, then sounding off about them.

The conversation turned to movies and books. Dave discovered that his taste was similar to Carl’s. Both liked Stephen King, John Grisham, James Patterson and Liane Moriarty, and both believed TV was forging ahead while Hollywood remained in an artistic rut. Carl Rogers took his leave at six o'clock, and Dave brought out a bottle of Lagavulin. He poured generous sundowners for Lulu and Belinda. After consulting Lulu about what she was planning for the evening meal, Dave drew the cork from a bottle of her favorite red wine – the Chilean Casillero del Diablo. He set it on the sideboard to get some air, then sat sipping his whiskey with the women. He took his drink with a little water at room temperature from a nosing glass which allowed him to sniff the peaty aroma between sips.

A sea breeze billowed the gauze curtains on the open balcony doors while twilight gathered over the Atlantic. They talked about Dave's chances of being elected as a commissioner, which was what councilors were called in Francesca Beach. He assured the women that he could cope with that appointment if he were elected, along with his general medical practice.

At seven-thirty, father and daughter followed Lulu into the kitchen to see her prepare a steak fajita salad. Master Hiro’s eight-inch chef’s knife gleamed in the light, seeming to flicker as she sliced a twelve-ounce cut of filet mignon into paper-thin strips.

Dave, I need your help with a little experiment. Bel, you’ll be amazed, so watch carefully. I’m holding the knife steady on the chopping board with the sharp edge of the blade uppermost. Your dad is going to drop that big ripe tomato on it from a height of eighteen inches. Ready, Dave? Okay, bombs away!

The tomato dropped onto the knife and divided into two halves which fell on either side of the blade. Belinda whistled. She said, Sharp is too soft a word for that thing.

Lulu laughed and went on chopping ingredients with her flashing blade – the tomato, lettuce, all colors of peppers, and onion. Next, she fried the steak strips and added them to the mix along with a handful of black beans from a can, a good shake of grated Cheddar cheese, and a half cup of sliced black olives. The final touch was a salad dressing, concocted according to her secret recipe. And dinner was voted a total success, as was the Chilean red to complement the fajita salad.

Belinda had brewed coffee, which she served with the remnants of the chocolate cake. As Lulu inspected her sand dollar in the candlelight, Dave thought that her forty-sixth birthday had been one of the rare days of his life. A day in which the tiniest and simplest of things had delighted him. Later on, as he lay in bed, she tumbled in beside him, warm, perfumed, and freshly showered. She murmured, Dave.... and reached for him, why is a good birthday like a chocolate cake?

Tell me. And please don’t stop.

Because it’s nicer when topped off by a cherry.

I see. And who’s the cherry on top?

That’s you. Fix your bayonet, soldier – we’re going into action.

Chapter 3

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Nearly one year after Lulu’s 46th birthday, Belinda Steel flew into Jacksonville, Florida. She preferred landings to takeoffs because they made her feel less anxious; she bit her lip and concentrated on