DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1
Murder Boxed Set
Books 1 to 6
Murder is a Tricky Business
Murder House
Murder is Only a Number
Murder in Little Venice
Murder is the Only Option
Murder in Notting Hill
Phillip Strang
BOOKS BY PHILLIP STRANG
DCI Isaac Cook Series
MURDER IS A TRICKY BUSINESS
MURDER HOUSE
MURDER IS ONLY A NUMBER
MURDER IN LITTLE VENICE
MURDER IS THE ONLY OPTION
MURDER IN NOTTING HILL
MURDER IN ROOM 346
MURDER OF A SILENT MAN
MURDER HAS NO GUILT
MURDER IN HYDE PARK
MURDER WITHOUT REASON
DI Keith Tremayne Series
DEATH UNHOLY
DEATH AND THE ASSASSIN’S BLADE
DEATH AND THE LUCKY MAN
DEATH AT COOMBE FARM
DEATH BY A DEAD MAN’S HAND
DEATH IN THE VILLAGE
Steve Case Series
HOSTAGE OF ISLAM
THE HABERMAN VIRUS
PRELUDE TO WAR
Standalone Books
MALIKA’S REVENGE
Copyright Page
Copyright © 2017 Phillip Strang
Cover Design by Phillip Strang
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine, or journal.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All Rights Reserved.
This work is registered with the UK Copyright Service.
Author’s Website: http://www.phillipstrang.com
Dedication
For Elli and Tais, who both had the perseverance to make me sit down and write.
Murder is a Tricky Business
PHILLIP STRANG
Chapter 1
‘Murder is a tricky business when you don’t have a body, a suspect or a motive,’ Detective Chief Inspector Isaac Cook mulled out loud in the confines of the office. He may as well have called it home ‒ he had spent so many hours there of late.
‘What do you mean, “no motive”? The woman was a bitch,’ Detective Inspector Farhan Ahmed replied. He was a dedicated cop, destined as was his senior officer, Isaac Cook, for great success in the police force: London’s Metropolitan Police, politically correct and aiming to fast-track anyone of superior ability with a non-Anglo-Saxon background, a display of embracing all cultures, all religions, and all colours.
It was the ideal place for two ambitious men. Cook, the first generation English-born child of Jamaican parents and Ahmed, ten years in the United Kingdom, initially for training, and with no intention of going back to Pakistan. It irked some of the older police officers ‒ Anglo-Saxon and white ‒ now being overlooked for the late arrivals. The occasional disparaging comment in the corridors of Challis Street Police Station, discreetly aimed in their direction, was shrugged off, although it sometimes upset the young Pakistan-born DI.
‘Who told us she was a bitch?’ DCI Cook asked as he looked out of the window.
‘Admittedly, those she worked with.’
‘Being a bitch is not much of a motive. And we’re still assuming she’s been murdered,’ DCI Cook said.
‘We’ll find the body. You know that. It’s just a case of knowing where to look.’
‘Do you?’
‘Not yet, but we haven’t rummaged in the dirt yet. If we dig enough, we’ll find her, or what’s left of her.’
‘So where do we start?’ Isaac asked.
‘Her fellow actors on that damn-awful soap opera.’ It was an unexpected outburst by the detective inspector.
‘I’ve not heard you speak in that manner before.’ Isaac felt the need to comment.
‘It’s my wife. She’s obsessed with the programme.’
***
The death of Billy Blythe did not come as a surprise, forecast as it had been for several weeks. The final week before his death the magazines were awash with front page speculation. Eight million, five hundred and sixty thousand viewers, a new record the night he was bashed to death in the local playground by three youths.
The executives at the television station were delighted: record advertising revenue, premium rates. The only one assumed not to be delighted was the actor who played his fictional sister: she had gone missing. They had spliced in some earlier footage of her for the episode to conceal the truth from the viewing public.
The programme was pure fiction, but for millions across the country, compulsory viewing. Whether they recognised the soap opera for what it was, or whether it was an escape from their mundane lives, was for psychologists to analyse, advertising executives to take advantage of, and television stations to profit from.
The melodrama had been on the air for twelve years. The lives of an apparently benign group of individuals in a small provincial town had kept a nation enthralled. There had been murders, rapes, thuggish behaviour, even incest, but the characters still played out their parts in the innocence of a community where nothing ever changed. One week, it was a murder, the next, a wedding, and Billy Blythe, the local villain, had had his fair share of weddings: at least one every eighteen months to two years and none had lasted.
The country, or, at least, the less discerning – according to Charles Sutherland, the actor who had portrayed the erstwhile Billy Blythe – had been enthralled by his nuptials, but he had become fat and unpleasant, due to a more than adequate salary and an inappropriate fondness for alcohol and junk food.
Marjorie Frobisher portrayed his elder sister, Edith Blythe, in the series – her character matronly and demure, ashamed of her brother, hoping he would reform.
Isaac Cook considered the situation. He was a smart man, not given to extravagance and not inclined to speak without some forethought.
‘So why does everyone assume it’s murder? She’s only been missing for three weeks. She