By Fiona McIntosh
A calculating killer, who "trophies" the faces of his sufferers, is concentrating on Londoners. less than huge, immense strain from politicians and the general public, DCI Jack Hawksworth and his staff commence their research, which takes them into the murky international of human organ buying and selling. but if the assassin moves in the direction of domestic than Jack may ever have imagined attainable, the case turns into a private crusade—and a race opposed to time. Can the killer be dropped at justice ahead of Jack is faraway from the operation?
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Additional info for Beautiful Death
I looked in the register, you know, after Candida had gone home, and I saw the names — Miss Olivia Benevent — Miss Cara Benevent.
I’ll have good luck as long as I wear it, and I can’t be hurt by wound nor poison. ” I said, “Mercy, Mr. Alan! ” Well, do you know, not a month after that something broke in the car when he was driving it, and it went smash into a wall at the bottom of Hill Lane. And he come out of it without a scratch. “What did I tell you, Mrs. ” he said. “That charm of Miss Cara’s is a mascot all right. I ought to have been killed, and here I am without a scratch. ” Which was vain superstition, but I could see that he meant it.
She passed along the winding passages to her room. As she approached it she heard the sound of weeping. It was a low sound made up of sighing breaths and a faint sobbing. The door of the room stood ajar, and the sound came from there. After a moment of hesitation she widened the gap and looked in. Miss Cara stood by the cold hearth, her fingers wrung together and the tears trickling down her chin. She said, ‘Alan —’ under her breath. And then she must have heard Candida cross the threshold, for she started, turned, and put out her hands.
Beautiful Death by Fiona McIntosh