A Shred of Evidence
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"McGown's style is uniquely hers, engrossing, poignant, with effectual characterization."
When the body of fifteen-year-old Natalie Ouspensky is found strangled near a public park in Stansfield, England, Detective Inspector Judy Hill and Detective Chief Inspector Lloyd have their work cut out for them. For Natalie wasn't quite the innocent her mother believes, and her classmates at Oakland School guard Natalie's secrets--and their own--like life itself. Then a shred of evidence points Hill and Lloyd in the right--and decidedly deadly--direction. . . .
"[A ] compelling story . . . The characters are devious, cunning, charming--and truly, truly wicked. This small English town, overrun with malice, is well served by its finely delineated constabulary, with Lloyd and Hill at the top of their form."
life went on. “Dinner,” he said, and Sherlock jumped up. Colin was feeding him when someone came to the door. Another test. Try and pay the milkman, or whoever it was that came on Fridays, without breaking down. You can do it. You can. It was Trudy Kane. “Hello,” he said. “I didn’t think you should be on your own,” she said, almost argumentatively, as though he had already told her to leave. “If you don’t think it’s seemly, I’ll go. But I think you should have company, so you should be with
the victim. Judy had had a look in the girl’s bedroom, and found nothing of any interest other than the contraceptive pills, but her mother had been too distressed to be interviewed. She wouldn’t be feeling any better today, Lloyd thought with a sigh, but it had to be done. And talking about her daughter might just help. Patrick wasn’t listening to the head as he spoke gravely about what had happened. He doubted if anyone was; everyone knew what had happened. He was scanning the sea of faces
“How convenient,” said Finch. “There was a lorry in the industrial estate,” Cochrane said. “The people with it saw me, but I don’t know who they are, so what good does that do? They’re probably not even local.” Probably not. Lloyd sat down and looked across at Cochrane. “In that case,” he said, “your only hope is DNA, Mr. Cochrane. And you have refused to let us do a test.” “If it will get you off my back,” Cochrane said, “you can do whatever you like.” Theories. Lloyd felt that his always
Shakespeare,” he said defensively. “You might, if you want to be a brain surgeon or something.” “Brain surgeons need a good education, you mean?” “Yeah.” Dave nodded, relieved to have got his point across. “But plumbers don’t need to know all that stuff.” “Why not?” “Well … it’s not as important.” “Plumbers aren’t as important as brain surgeons?” “Well, they’re not, are they?” “I don’t know,” said Mr. Murray. “I’m willing to bet that there are thousands of plumbers who have gone from
else is to safeguard Hannah’s rights.” “It’s outrageous.” “And I must ask you, Mrs. Lewis, to let Hannah answer any questions put to her herself.” She turned again to Hannah. “You are here voluntarily, Hannah, and are free to leave at any time. You are also entitled to free, independent legal advice.” “She doesn’t need legal advice! And if we can leave, that’s what we’re doing.” Mrs. Lewis stood up. “Come on, Hannah,” she said. Hannah didn’t move. She was the one being interviewed—it was up