Free Murder in the Blood by Lesley Cookman

not come along and give me a hand.’
    Libby sighed and looked at Fran, who nodded. ‘All right. But not too long, please.’
    She handed the phone back to Jimmy. ‘Thanks. We’ll see you later.’
    They went back to where the other four were carefully positioning sunbeds.
    â€˜We’re off,’ said Fran. ‘Not really sure we’re doing the right thing. Ian would never let us get this involved.’
    â€˜But this bloke is doing it more-or-less as an individual,’ said Harry. ‘He’s not part of the police force.’
    â€˜That makes it worse,’ said Fran. ‘But at least he’s a British police officer.’
    â€˜But not a Turkish one. It all seems very shambolic to me,’ said Libby, ‘but I suppose we might be able to help.’
    Johnny Smith arrived in a silver hire car a few minutes later.
    â€˜Alec Wilson’s first,’ he said after they’d both climbed in to the back seat. ‘See if we can find anything about this mother.’
    â€˜We were also wondering if he was running from something when he moved out here,’ said Fran.
    â€˜Like that bunch at the Istanbul Palace,’ said Johnny with a nod.
    Libby gasped. ‘You thought that, too?’
    He turned and looked at her, swerving on the dusty road. ‘Of course. I reckon we’d find something in the backgrounds of all those ex-pats.’
    They were driving towards the village, past villas in varying states of completion or disintegration.
    â€˜Just up here.’ Johnny slowed the car and peered to the left. ‘There. See, between those two houses.’
    Libby and Fran saw, in a gap between two matching villas, a smaller one almost set into the hillside.
    â€˜How do we get to it?’ asked Fran.
    â€˜There’s a drive, they said,’ he muttered. ‘Here.’
    The drive was simply a gap between the two matching villas and the one next to them. It led to the side of Alec Wilson’s villa, which was small and unpretentious. Johnny led them to a covered porch and unlocked the front door.
    â€˜No police tape,’ said Libby.
    Johnny smiled over his shoulder. ‘No.’
    Fran was following unwillingly. ‘What’s up?’ whispered Libby.
    â€˜We shouldn’t be doing this.’
    Libby stopped and looked at her. Fran nodded.
    â€˜Is it the house?’
    Fran shook her head.
    â€˜Is it him?’
    Fran nodded. Libby let out a breath. ‘Ah.’
    Johnny was now at the top of the stairs that led to the main living area.
    â€˜Johnny, shouldn’t we wait for one of the Jandarma to come?’ Libby called. ‘You said we’d have one of them overseeing us.’
    Johnny’s face appeared over the half-wall at the top of the stairs. ‘They didn’t much care.’
    Libby walked up slowly. ‘I can’t help thinking we shouldn’t be doing this. Not without some proper authorisation.’
    â€˜The Jandarma are fine with it.’ He shook the keys in her face. ‘They wouldn’t have given me these, would they?’
    Libby looked over her shoulder. Fran was still at the bottom of the stairs.
    â€˜Fran’s not happy about this,’ she said to Johnny.
    He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘I don’t believe in all that sort of thing, you know.’
    Libby was shocked into silence.
    Fran came up the stairs to stand beside her.
    â€˜And how did you know?’ she asked.
    â€˜You think I didn’t make enquiries?’ He chuckled. ‘I must say, your DCI Connell is very protective of you.’
    â€˜You spoke to Ian?’ Libby’s voice came out as a squeak.
    â€˜Of course. I don’t take people on trust, even if you do.’ He folded his arms and surveyed them both. ‘Although you’re good to be cautious even if it is a bit late. So why are you,’ he pointed at Fran, ‘worried? Think I’ve got an agenda?’
    â€˜Yes,’