Don't Turn Around: A dark, thrilling, page-turner of a crime novel (Detective Jennifer Knight Crime Thriller Series Book 1) by Caroline Mitchell
Authors: Caroline Mitchell
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not. He’s busy on another job and doesn’t deem it to be suspicious.’
‘That’s a bit chancey isn’t it? After all, it’s forced entry.’
‘Aye maybe, but Ozzy’s a squatter. He didn’t exactly let himself in with a key. With the money in his pocket and drugs still under his pillow, it’s unlikely anyone else was responsible.’
‘All the same, I’ll feel happier if I search the rest of the house. I won’t be long.’ PC Hargreaves shrugged his shoulders as he lit a cigarette. ‘You won’t find much up there apart from rats and spiders, but be my guest. If you need me, just shout.’
‘Don’t worry, I will,’ she said, with mock bravado. PC Hargreaves was a nice man, but his view that a woman’s place was in the home was painfully evident. It was nothing new for Elizabeth, who fought hard to prove her worth in the team.
The wooden stairwell creaked as she climbed upwards, shining a light onto the upstairs landing. Mottled wallpaper hung off the walls and dangled onto the floor. The damp pores caught the back of her throat and she stifled a cough.
The layer of cobwebs covering the loft hatch was a welcome sight. It meant she did not have to climb up there to investigate. Pushing open the bedroom doors, she stood to one side and flashed her torch before entering. Her police training had taught her not to enter head on, in case someone was waiting on the other side. She listened for the slightest sound as she entered each room. This house had sheltered a family once, children perhaps. But there was no sign of children here now. It was abandoned to decay and ruin, its only occupants an army of rats, spiders and a decaying body hanging from the rafters downstairs.
A car door slammed outside, most likely the undertakers. She returned downstairs, vowing that when she was made an inspector she would attend every death she was called out for. Ozzy’s demise had all the trademarks of a suicide, but it didn’t sit right, and she knew it would churn in her thoughts when sleep evaded her.
E lizabeth volunteered to deliver the agony, feeling guilty for being so dismissive to Maude earlier on. Informing family of the death of a loved one was termed by police as an ‘agony’ for a reason. For all her bravado, Elizabeth knew Osborne’s mother would be heartbroken with the news.
‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ Maude said, in response to Elizabeth’s presence at her doorstep. The little cottage was nicer than Elizabeth had expected, and she wondered what had happened in Osborne’s life to make him cause so much trouble.
‘It seems that way. I’m sorry Maude.’
‘Seems that way? He is or he isn’t,’ Maude scowled.
Elizabeth removed her hat and swept a hand across her hair. It had been a long night. ‘May I come in?’
Maude opened the door allowing Elizabeth inside. The smell of stew hung in the air and Elizabeth’s stomach rumbled. Family photos graced the fireplace of the cozy home, and three ceramic ducks were displayed on the wall overhead, frozen in flight.
‘Drugs, was it?’ Maude asked, as Elizabeth perched on the small green sofa. It was low to the ground and she moved forward to balance herself. ‘No Maude, it seems as if he hung himself.’
‘Nah, he wouldn’t have done that. Not Ozzy. Are you sure it was him?’
‘We identified him from paperwork in his trouser pocket. I’m afraid he’d been there for some time, but … it does seem to be him. The coroner will examine the body in due course.’ A cat rubbed itself against her legs, covering her black tights in a pattern of grey hairs.
‘In due course? Well, I can save them a job. He would never have hung himself. Never. He was too much of a coward.’
‘I’m sorry, Maude. We will keep you updated with the coroner’s report. But you should brace yourself for the worst.’
‘Worst? I’m over the worst. At least now I’ll get some peace. The little sod, why …’ Her voice choked into a sob and Elizabeth rested a
‘That’s a bit chancey isn’t it? After all, it’s forced entry.’
‘Aye maybe, but Ozzy’s a squatter. He didn’t exactly let himself in with a key. With the money in his pocket and drugs still under his pillow, it’s unlikely anyone else was responsible.’
‘All the same, I’ll feel happier if I search the rest of the house. I won’t be long.’ PC Hargreaves shrugged his shoulders as he lit a cigarette. ‘You won’t find much up there apart from rats and spiders, but be my guest. If you need me, just shout.’
‘Don’t worry, I will,’ she said, with mock bravado. PC Hargreaves was a nice man, but his view that a woman’s place was in the home was painfully evident. It was nothing new for Elizabeth, who fought hard to prove her worth in the team.
The wooden stairwell creaked as she climbed upwards, shining a light onto the upstairs landing. Mottled wallpaper hung off the walls and dangled onto the floor. The damp pores caught the back of her throat and she stifled a cough.
The layer of cobwebs covering the loft hatch was a welcome sight. It meant she did not have to climb up there to investigate. Pushing open the bedroom doors, she stood to one side and flashed her torch before entering. Her police training had taught her not to enter head on, in case someone was waiting on the other side. She listened for the slightest sound as she entered each room. This house had sheltered a family once, children perhaps. But there was no sign of children here now. It was abandoned to decay and ruin, its only occupants an army of rats, spiders and a decaying body hanging from the rafters downstairs.
A car door slammed outside, most likely the undertakers. She returned downstairs, vowing that when she was made an inspector she would attend every death she was called out for. Ozzy’s demise had all the trademarks of a suicide, but it didn’t sit right, and she knew it would churn in her thoughts when sleep evaded her.
E lizabeth volunteered to deliver the agony, feeling guilty for being so dismissive to Maude earlier on. Informing family of the death of a loved one was termed by police as an ‘agony’ for a reason. For all her bravado, Elizabeth knew Osborne’s mother would be heartbroken with the news.
‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ Maude said, in response to Elizabeth’s presence at her doorstep. The little cottage was nicer than Elizabeth had expected, and she wondered what had happened in Osborne’s life to make him cause so much trouble.
‘It seems that way. I’m sorry Maude.’
‘Seems that way? He is or he isn’t,’ Maude scowled.
Elizabeth removed her hat and swept a hand across her hair. It had been a long night. ‘May I come in?’
Maude opened the door allowing Elizabeth inside. The smell of stew hung in the air and Elizabeth’s stomach rumbled. Family photos graced the fireplace of the cozy home, and three ceramic ducks were displayed on the wall overhead, frozen in flight.
‘Drugs, was it?’ Maude asked, as Elizabeth perched on the small green sofa. It was low to the ground and she moved forward to balance herself. ‘No Maude, it seems as if he hung himself.’
‘Nah, he wouldn’t have done that. Not Ozzy. Are you sure it was him?’
‘We identified him from paperwork in his trouser pocket. I’m afraid he’d been there for some time, but … it does seem to be him. The coroner will examine the body in due course.’ A cat rubbed itself against her legs, covering her black tights in a pattern of grey hairs.
‘In due course? Well, I can save them a job. He would never have hung himself. Never. He was too much of a coward.’
‘I’m sorry, Maude. We will keep you updated with the coroner’s report. But you should brace yourself for the worst.’
‘Worst? I’m over the worst. At least now I’ll get some peace. The little sod, why …’ Her voice choked into a sob and Elizabeth rested a
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