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180 pages

English

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Harry Devlin is playing a dangerous game when he gets involved with the wife of Liverpool's most ruthless villain. But he has another reason to look over his shoulder after two lawyers are brutally killed and Harry discovers he is being stalked by a stranger with a secret obsession...

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Thriller

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Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	13 septembre 2021
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781781662854
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

First Cut Is the Deepest
Book seven of the Harry Devlin series
Martin Edwards

First published in 1999
This revised edition published in 2021 by
www.don’t forget to create a hyperlink
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 1999, 2021 Martin Edwards
Introduction Copyright © 2021 Kate Ellis
The right of Martin Edwards to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted except with express prior written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Dedicated to Helena

Introduction
Martin Edwards is a solicitor… and so is his creation, Harry Devlin. But there the similarity ends as, fortunately for Martin (who specialises in employment law – a branch of the law hardly noted for its danger and violence), his encounters with murdered corpses are confined to the printed page.
The author of over forty short stories – and the winner of the Crime Writers’ Association Short Story Dagger – Martin Edwards is the editor of the CWA’s annual anthology. He is also the author of legal books and more than a thousand articles. Recently he has become deservedly well known for his excellent crime series set in the Lake District featuring Daniel Kind and Hannah Scarlett. However, as a native of Liverpool, I find I have a particular affection for his Harry Devlin novels, the seventh of which is The First Cut is the Deepest.
Harry Devlin operates in the insular world of Liverpool’s legal profession and the Liverpool of his investigations is certainly the Liverpool I recognise. From city centre offices, to the Dock Road with its dilapidated warehouses awaiting ‘redevelopment’ and the swish new apartments near the Albert Dock; from the run down, seedy districts to the affluent suburbs, this is the city I was brought up in and rarely has anybody captured its unique atmosphere as well as Martin Edwards. Liverpool’s many notable features are used to wonderful effect in his stories – even the more peculiar ones such as the Williamson tunnels, a labyrinth dug through the red sandstone beneath the Edge Hill area of the city in the early 1800s on the instructions of a retired tobacco merchant, possibly to create work for the unemployed of the time. The tunnels make a dramatic appearance in First Cut is the Deepest but to say any more would be spoiling the surprise.
It’s not an easy matter to create a credible amateur detective but somehow Harry Devlin is completely believable. Harry himself is a damaged, all too human character, a man who is far from perfect but who is driven by a love of justice – a humane and likeable lawyer with good intentions. His estranged wife, Liz, died in tragic and suspicious circumstances in All the Lonely People, the first novel in the series – which was shortlisted by the CWA’s John Creasey Memorial Dagger – and, although Harry has a great liking for women, he has never had much good fortune with the opposite sex.
In The First Cut is the Deepest Harry embarks on a torrid and ill-advised affair with Juliet May, the wife of one of Liverpool’s greatest villains. In a memorable early scene Harry and Juliet discover the decapitated body of a crown prosecutor during one of their steamy trysts. Then another member of the legal profession is murdered so Harry is forced to ask the inevitable question – who is killing the lawyers? And why is Harry being stalked by a sinister Welshman with an equally sinister agenda of his own?
This is one of Martin Edwards’ darkest books, well plotted, intelligent, thrilling and totally enjoyable.
Kate Ellis

First Cut is the Deepest

Strangers in the Night
…he can direct the elements, the storm, the fog, the thunder: he can command all meaner things; the rat, and the wolf; he can grow and become small; and he can at times vanish and come unknown. How then are we to begin our strike against him?
How long have you been afraid of me? Last night I noticed your glance in my direction when you thought I wasn’t looking – and I saw the dread deep in your eyes. I kept my secret for so long, but in the end you were sure to learn the truth. Perhaps you guessed sooner than I realised. After all, it’s simple when you know: you recognise the clues which were there all the time, make sense at last of so many oddities, things that didn’t quite add up. And now that you know, you are being eaten away by fear .
Do you remember telling me once why the law drew you like a moth to the flame? All of us need rules, you said, and we must believe in rules. Rules which draw a line between right and wrong. What is left for us if we don’t have faith, if we can’t cling to the belief that life is more than chance and accident? Without justice, the world is wild and dangerous . But the law’s a lousy mistress, we should have learned that by now. She’s fickle and shameless. Each time you put your trust in her, she lets you down .
So let’s forget the law; it can’t deliver us from evil. The time has come to face reality. Inside your heart, you know I’m killing you .
No more deceit: the choice is simple. One of us has to die . And I’ll be honest with you, I’m scared too. Yet there’s no escaping our destiny. My flesh tingles as I close my eyes and picture in my mind the darkness that lies ahead of us .

Chapter One
‘Forget it, it’s too risky.’
‘That’s half the fun, isn’t it?’ asked the voice at the other end of the line.
‘What if he finds out?’
‘No-one need ever know,’ Juliet May whispered, ‘apart from you and me.’
Outside in the corridor, someone banged on Harry Devlin’s door, made him jump. ‘The last client who said that to me,’ he muttered, ‘finished up with five years for money laundering.’
‘Then thank God it’s your body I’m after, not your legal advice.’
Harry tightened his grip on the receiver. ‘Hey, whatever happened to safe sex?’
‘Overrated, don’t you agree? Listen, there’s nothing to worry about.’ She was amused, her tone persuasive. She’d have made a good advocate, he thought, could have persuaded a hanging judge to let her off with a neck massage. ‘Casper is in London until tomorrow evening. Everything’s perfect. The house is in the middle of nowhere. This may be the best chance we ever get.’
The door rocked on its hinges. Jim Crusoe was standing outside, hand on hips, forearm raised to show the face of his wristwatch. Harry saw the time and gave his partner a caught-in-the-act grin. He could feel his cheeks burning. Cupping his hand over the mouthpiece, he said, ‘Sorry, I forgot. With you in half a minute.’
Jim grunted and slammed the door. Harry said into the phone, ‘I’m late for a meeting at our bank. A date with the Loan Arranger.’
A giggle. ‘Don’t tell me, he’s got a sidekick called Tonto. Does this mean you have to take out an overdraft to buy the champagne for tonight?’
It was a bitter day in November. The morning news had warned of gales and now he could hear them roaring in from the waterfront. The office heating had broken down at lunch-time and the cold was seeping into his room through cracks in the window frames. Yet his palms were damp and anticipatory lust wasn’t entirely to blame.
‘I haven’t said I can make it tonight.’
‘Don’t play hard to get,’ Juliet said. ‘You want what I want.’
Was that true? He was breathing hard, conscious of the pounding of his heart. ‘Adultery isn’t good for your health.’
‘You’re not committing adultery. It’s years since your wife died.’
This wasn’t the time to quibble about matrimonial law or the proper interpretation of the Book of Leviticus. He didn’t want to finish up like a discredited politician, arguing that his deceits were ‘legally accurate’. ‘If Casper hears about this,’ he said, ‘we’ll both finish up in intensive care. Maybe worse.’
‘Forget him. You ought to relax. The trouble is, you’re too uptight.’
‘He’s dangerous. You’ve said so yourself.’
‘I can picture you tensing up,’ she said softly. ‘Don’t worry, we can have a nice soothing bath together.’
He couldn’t help imagining her arms as they stretched around him, her long fingers probing the cavities beneath his shoulder blades, the sharp red nails starting to dig into his back. Closing his eyes, he could smell her perfume, taste the champagne on her lips, feel the thick mass of her hair brush against his cheeks, then his chest.
‘But…’
‘No buts, Harry. Remember the Tarot reading I gave you? You’re in for a life-changing experience.’
That’s what I’m afraid of . He sucked air into his lungs. It was supposed to be an aid to rational thought.
‘Seven thirty,’ she said, filling the silence. ‘It’s less than four hours away. I can hardly wait, can you?’
Another angry knock at the door. Harry let out a breath. So much for rational thought. Well, whoever chose as an epitaph – ‘he was always sensible’?
‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t.’
***
Carl Symons swallowed the last loop of spaghetti and wiped his mouth clean with his sleeve. He turned up the volume on the portable television on his kitchen table. The bellow of the wind outside was drowning out even the determined cheeriness of the weather f