By Val McDermid
A taut mental mystery from the bestselling writer in the back of the preferred twine within the Blood television sequence while occupation felony Jack Farlowe's physique is located washed-up on a Suffolk shore, it seems to be to the police like a simple case. Broken-hearted at his daughter's loss of life, he has drowned himself -- solid riddance and one much less crime to unravel, in accordance with CID. nevertheless, probably now not. For, one after the other, Farlowe's enemies are being killed. And the terrible demeanour in their deaths makes drowning appear like an afternoon on the seashore!
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Extra resources for Cleanskin
Go and check, all the same,' I said. Ben gave me a dirty look but did as he was told. He walked down the lane and into the car park, casting an idle glance at the open van as he strolled towards the pub. He walked inside. A moment later my phone rang. 'Clean as a whistle,' Ben said. ' Neither of the other tail cars had done any better. The van that had turned left had headed into Central London then doubled back. They'd lost him when he shot through a set of traffic lights on the Farringdon Road just as they turned to red.
I know that. And I'm not exactly sure where he is right this minute either. But I think I know where we can pick him up. Here's how it used to go every morning before today. At half past seven, a black BMW four-wheel drive rolls up at the gates of Jack Farrell's mansion. At the wheel, Francis Riley, known as Fancy. He's the number three man in Farrell's squad. In the passenger seat, Danny Chu, Farrell's number two. 'They drive up to the house and out pops Farrell in running shorts and vest. ]4, also in running gear, and takes a suit carrier from the Spanish nanny, who's lurking in the doorway.
Unlike most villains, who display their tatts as if they were visible proof of how hard they are, Farrell's body art was kept private. I'd heard it said that he took his shirt off when he was about to kill in cold blood. The word on the street was that Jack Farrell's tatts were the last thing quite a few bad boys had seen in this world. It was yet another way of making sure he kept the opposition in fear. But that night, Jack Farrell wouldn't have scared anybody. The fire had robbed him of more than his Katie.
Cleanskin by Val McDermid