An investigation leads Kelly back to her former command… and the ex who betrayed her
A brutal murder in the Lake District.
A double assassination in a secret lab in London’s west end.
Seemingly unconnected, unexpected links between the gruesome crimes emerge and it’s up to DI Kelly Porter to follow the trail – all the way to the capital.
Back amongst old colleagues and forced to work alongside her calculating ex, DCI Matt Carter, Kelly must untangle a web of deceit that stretches into the highest echelons of power. A place where secrets and lies are currency and no obstacle is insurmountable.
I received a copy of this book from Canelo via NetGalley in return for an honest review.
Two locations, Three murders and an unwelcome trip back, to her troubled past for DI Kelly Porter, in this, book five of the Cumbrian based detective series. The murders, appear professional, but are the Lake district and London killings connected?
It is symbolic that as Kelly’s personal life improves, her past has to be faced, on both a personal and professional level. Even though much of the investigation takes place in London, the Lake District references are welcome to all who love the region.
Suspense, clever plot twists and unexpected connections, are all found in ‘Bold Lies’, the true perpetrators of the crimes, think they are above the law, but DI Kelly Porter and DCI Matt Carter, need to prove they aren’t. The crimes are savage, premeditated and carried out with ruthless intent. This is a different crime for Porter to investigate, but every bit as deadly, and menacing as her previous cases.
The characters both old and new, antagonist and protagonist are believable and complex. The psychopathic isolation of the main antagonist is truly chilling, and makes solving the crimes much harder, as little or no emotion is involved. DI Kelly Porter is a true professional, but someone who values her personal life, and lets it balance her. Her humanity is what makes her easy to empathise.
A riveting read, and I eagerly anticipate the next case for DI Kelly Porter.
Extract From Bold Lies -Rachel Lynch
Detective Inspector Kelly Porter stared at her computer screen. The office was undergoing a quasi-refurbishment: a few new chairs, a new carpet and a paint job. HR had ruled the old stiff chairs ergonomically unsound, and the whole force was getting replacements that could be set at the user’s preferred angle. Kelly had to admit they were comfortable. Some of her colleagues had spent the morning racing up and down the corridor on them. DC Rob Shawcross had just beaten DC Emma Hide three to two, and she was refusing to shake his hand. As a responsible senior officer, Kelly should have admonished them, but it was highly entertaining to watch. No blood or coffee had been spilled and it had taken mere minutes out of their day. On top of that, it had lifted the spirits of everyone who’d worked on the Tombday case three years ago. David Crawley had appealed his sentence, and the Old Bailey had delivered its verdict this morning.
Tombday had been a complex web of money-laundering and trafficking, run by businessmen in the Lakes and reaching way beyond the UK borders. David Crawley had only been one cog in the wheel, but he was a childhood friend of Kelly’s and an ex-boyfriend. It was a touchy subject. The Court of Appeal had argued that it was never proved that he had obtained material benefit from the people he’d carried in his lorries and that he was unaware of the transactions made in order to get them there. It was also ruled that the persons had come willingly rather than being coerced, and it was questionable that he had ever intentionally planned to exploit them. In fact, there were so many sections of the Trafficking Act that the original case failed to satisfy that Crawley’s offences were reduced to aiding and abetting, carrying a five-year sentence. On account of his impeccable record sheet in prison, and the fact that he’d served almost three years already, he had been freed this morning.
It was a huge blow.
DC Emma Hide brought Kelly a coffee and placed it on her desk. Kelly looked up and smiled at her junior. Her iPad pinged and she flipped it open to notifications from HQ. A 999 call had been transferred to the serious crime unit for North Lakes, and Kelly was expected to move on it straight away. She toyed with sending Emma along but decided against it because she wanted some fresh air. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep herself tied to her chair, and this was a serious crime scene. She’d handed out plenty of domestics, illegal hunting and burglaries to her team. But this was different. A body had been found at Derwent Marina. As yet, it was unidentified. The only information she had was that it was male, and had been found by Graeme Millar, who ran the marina. If Graeme hadn’t recognised the victim, then chances were he wasn’t local. That raised a flag for Kelly. It meant that he was either a tourist or a traveller. A forensic officer was already at the scene.
‘Emma, I’ve got to go out. Are you working on the burglary at Allerdale House?’
‘Yes, guv. I think Kate said she was in between paperwork, though.’
‘How’s it going?’
A local call early this morning had alerted police to something suspicious at Allerdale House’s boatshed. People knew one another round the lake, and apparently, a kayaker had spotted that the doors were open and passed the information on to the police. Upon inspection, the first uniforms on the scene discovered that a crime had occurred.
Old Lord Allerdale was dead, but his grandson and heir, Sebastian Montague-Roland, had been tracked down in London and had supplied a list of items stored in the shed. The house had been standing empty for the last six months, but there were rumours that building work was due to start there to renovate the place and turn it into a luxury leisure complex.
At first glance, the robbery looked like an opportunist break-in. An old pile like that with no one living in it was tempting for the criminal-minded, but apparently, some of the equipment taken from the boathouse was valuable. This raised Kelly’s interest, as it meant that the place could have been targeted.
‘The site is still being processed, guv.’ Emma was dressed in casual gear and could have been planning to sprint out of the door for a run at any moment: but then she always looked like that, and carried it off. Kelly glanced down at her feet, and sure enough, she was wearing trainers. Kelly was relaxed about dress, up to a point. If they were driving round Cumbria, in and out of sheds and boat huts, then formal gear just wasn’t practical.
‘Can you ask Kate to come in here?’ she asked. Emma nodded and disappeared. Kelly sipped her coffee and scanned the few details she’d been given about the body found at the marina. Male, over fifty, Caucasian and naked. That was it. She knew Graeme Millar through Johnny; they drank in the same watering holes after a fell race or a lake swim. The Keswick area was extensive to an outsider, but the fell-racing world was an exclusive and tiny club, one that Johnny had only recently become part of. He and Graeme had much in common, in that Graeme had spent five years as an infantry officer around the same time as Johnny had been serving. They had an instant connection. It was the beginning of weekends of sailing lessons, and the inspiration behind Johnny’s boat purchase. Wendy had been transferred to Derwent Marina from Pooley Bridge in the spring, and Graeme turned a blind eye to the mooring fee.
DS Kate Umshaw came into Kelly’s office and sat down. ‘I do like these chairs.’
‘I know. I think they’re a bit too comfortable, though. We need to take a drive to Keswick.’
Kate raised an eyebrow. Everybody knew she preferred paperwork. This was one of the reasons Kelly wanted to get her out of the office for a change.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked.
‘Body. Derwent Marina.’ Kelly shared the sparse details she had so far and grabbed her coat. Kate did the same.
‘Forensics are there. Let’s hope it’s just a drunk who found somewhere to shelter and stripped off.’
‘Did he die of exposure? In June?’
‘Might be a suicide. How are the nicotine patches going?’ Kelly asked.
‘Dull. It’s the worst decision of my life,’ Kate said. Kelly shook her head. Kate was one of those smokers who would choose a fag over a life jacket.
They checked in with the rest of the team before they left, then headed to the lift. Eden House had several floors, and their office was at the top. Uniforms manned the lower floors, and the two women acknowledged nods as they filed out of the building towards Kelly’s car.
They’d only gone a few hundred yards when Kelly began to feel the benefits of being out of the office. The thought of bumping into Dave Crawley was pushed to the back of her mind, and she concentrated on the drive. With a bit of luck, the body would keep them busy all day. There might be a perfectly innocent explanation, but the Murder Investigation Manual dictated that the first rule of inquiry into a deceased body without an obvious cause of death was to treat it suspiciously.
Derwent Marina was past the town of Keswick, at the end of a tiny road just beyond the village of Portinscale. Kelly had spent many school trips learning to kayak down there, and memories flashed back as she parked up outside the main office. Business had been suspended for the day, and uniforms were on the scene interviewing various groups and individuals. She spotted Graeme, and he waved. Kate got a bag out of the boot that contained all they needed to oversee the processing of a crime scene, and they walked over to him.
‘Hi, Kelly. I hoped it would be you they called.’
Graeme looked ashen, and Kelly realised that it was easy to forget what the sight of a dead body did to people, even an ex-army man. Graeme hadn’t seen active service, though, not like Johnny, and so it was possible that he’d never encountered a corpse before, at least not one that had expired outdoors with no clothes on.
‘You all right?’ she asked. He was sitting on an upturned canoe.
‘It was the smell.’
‘Ah, I get it. That’s not something you’ll forget in a hurry.’
He ran his fingers through his hair.
‘I understand you’ve given a statement?’
‘Thanks, you can go then. Maybe go home and distract yourself with something else.’
He hesitated. ‘When do you think they’ll take him away?’
Kelly looked towards the boatshed, which was now cordoned off with police tape. She felt Graeme’s anxiety. This was a cash business and his livelihood depended upon it.
‘I won’t know that until I’ve seen him. I’m sorry.’ It was all she could say. There were no guarantees. His brow knitted and he got up slowly.
Kelly and Kate walked through the trees towards the large shed. A uniformed officer standing outside moved aside for them. The tape extended around the back and down to the shoreline, but already campers from the neighbouring site were gathered, taking pictures with mobile phones. At least the cover of the shed meant the body was protected from exposure on social media.
As soon as they stepped inside, Kelly appreciated what Graeme had said about the smell. Kate handed her a bottle of perfume and she rubbed some under her nose. She also heard flies. She climbed a ladder and made her way to the stern of the launch. Another smell caught her attention: recently varnished wood. It was in stark contrast and was rather beautiful. The forensic officer, in full kit, was clicking away with a camera.
The dead man was slumped over the captain’s chair. Kelly reckoned he was in his late fifties, and apart from a huge wound to his temple, he looked as though he was asleep. It was an undignified way to go. His skin hung off his body in saggy rolls. He wasn’t fat, just not used to exercise. He was pale, almost white, apart from his arms and face, which were tanned from outdoor life. Kelly wondered if he was on holiday. He wasn’t malnourished or prematurely aged, which indicated a certain amount of prosperity; that ruled out vagrancy or homelessness. There was a watch mark on his wrist and an indentation on his wedding finger: the body had been stripped of every piece of clothing and jewellery.
‘Gunshot wound?’ she asked the forensic officer. He nodded. Kelly raised her eyebrows. It wasn’t what she’d expected to find on a Monday morning on the shores of Derwent Water. It would be difficult to keep this one out of the press, that was for sure.
‘We’ve got two entry wounds, but, so far all I can find is one exit unless they came through the same mess. That’s one for the Coroner.’
She didn’t need to get too close to recognise the wound pattern. On his left temple, two entry wounds had crusted over, and she could see that flies had laid their eggs already. On the other side, a massive exit wound had ripped his skull apart. It was something Kelly had witnessed a few times before, but never here in the Lakes. What was less obvious was why somebody had gone to all the trouble of removing clothes and jewellery to conceal the identity, but left the body in an obvious place. A cursory glance confirmed the absence of blood splatter or matter adhering to the surrounding panels of the cabin: he hadn’t been shot here.
The man had been shot through the brain, execution style. If he’d done it himself, the gun would have fallen from his dead hand and would still be on site. He also probably wouldn’t be naked. And it would be messy.
‘Weapon?’ she asked.
‘Feel free to look around. I haven’t found anything.’
With no weapon and no crime scene, just a dump site, and no name, Kelly knew that today would indeed be a busy day. Happy Monday, she thought.
Rachel Lynch grew up in Cumbria and the lakes and fells are never far away from her. London pulled her away to teach History and marry an Army Officer, whom she followed around the globe for thirteen years. A change of career after children led to personal training and sports therapy, but the writing was always the overwhelming force driving the future. The human capacity for compassion as well as its descent into the brutal and murky world of crime are fundamental to her work.