Free Six Dead Men by Rae Stoltenkamp

since her departure from London. She was merely using the book as a foil against neighbourly passengers. She flinched every time she thought someone was about to sit next to her. She double flinched if a man so much as moved a muscle in her direction. Her greatest fear was that Detective Inspector Deed would embark at any one of the many stops along the route. He'll come after me . Madie sensed that tracking her down was an intrinsic part of the investigator in his nature. After only two meetings with Deed, she felt as though she was beginning to understand Robert Deed the man. It was also as though some part of him had passed to her through osmosis when they had touched in his office. In her mind’s eye she saw a clear vision of him mounting the steps of the intercity from Euston to Manchester Piccadilly.
    Every time the train approached a new stop she tensed with dread. She held her breath as she watched the doors. They wooshed shut and she began to breathe again. She would not be able to relax completely until she was off the train and ensconced in Brendan’s front room. Her youngest brother had been surprised but pleased at her insistence that she needed to visit him immediately.
Andrew Carson aka The Liar
    I lie for a living. I lie about what I do and I lie about who I do business with. I don't know any other way to be. I told my first out and out lie at the age of 8. When I got away with this bare faced whopper scot free I found it gave me a buzz that would never top anything drug induced. My lies became more elaborate as time went on. I had a particularly good time utilising them at Edgworth Grammar School, actually a Comprehensive but they still fancied themselves if you get my drift. So we got to wear blazers and pretend we’d passed the 11 plus. Mr Gaylord was a right nancy and would witter on and on about courtly love and the knights of the round table. The stories were alright, but all that god forsaken poetry drove me barmy.
    I lied to Brendan’s sister when I told her she was model material. She was far too short for the catwalk stuff and mixed race faces had not made it into the pages of catalogues as yet. I could have got her a small time job, just to keep the pretence up of course. I knew she’d buy it. She was young. She was supremely naive. Just the way I liked them.
    I took her to that club off Regents Street. The modelling agency, Prestige, was having an after party following London Fashion Week. The whole bloody family traipsed along; the sister, the other sister, the brother and the sister’s boyfriend.
    When I first met her I didn't realise she was Brendan’s sister. They certainly didn’t look alike — chalk and cheese, even in the way they spoke. And not to mention Brendan’s a bloody giant and no-one could have thought he was only sixteen. He scarcely needed to use his fake ID to get into clubs. Now Brendan’s useful to know. I met him at a club in Brixton and he got me hooked up with a dealer he knows. He’s heading off to university when school’s all said and done. What a shame. Waste of a good talent. He could have been my apprentice, but he seems set on this whole education lark. Who’d have thought it - boy from Brixton interested in further education. Go figure.
    I came on to Madie straight away. She was a prime piece of arse. There was no denying that. Even after Brendan cautioned me I continued to pursue her. The warnings of fraternal wrath did not deter my lust for this lithesome young thing. I was drawn to her. Forbidden fruit and all that.
    She was new to it all, fresh out of sixth form college, thinking about going on to further education but not set in her ideas like Brendan. She bubbled over with enthusiasm as she told me her plans for the future. I kept the Breezers coming and slipped a little narcotic cocktail in the last melon flavoured one then sat back and waited for it to take effect.
    It was all going so well till the sister’s boyfriend with the ridiculous