Sneaky Peek: Leigh Russell's Deathly Affair (book 13 in her hugely popular DI Geraldine Steel series )

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With well over a million copies sold, it's no secret that Leigh Russell's DI Geraldine Steel is a popular character, so it gives me great pleasure to offer a Sneaky Peek of her most recent Steel thriller DEATHLY AFFAIR

First though, here's the blurb:

Four bodies... But who is guilty in this deadly web of secrecy and lies?

When two homeless men are strangled to death, Detective Sergeant Geraldine Steel is disturbed by the cold-blooded nature of the crimes. Her suspicions intensify as two more victims are discovered, forcing her to question the motivation behind the murders.

Plagued by red herrings, the investigation drags Geraldine ever deeper into the lives of three people caught in a toxic triangle of love and deception. Are these murders random, or is there more to this than meets the eye? 

A little bit about the lovely author  LEIGH RUSSELL:

Leigh Russell’s Geraldine Steel series has sold over a million copies and is translated throughout Europe, and China. Shortlisted for the CWA New Blood Dagger Award, and the CWA Dagger in the Library, Leigh has twice been Finalist for the People's Book Prize. With accolades from fellow authors - including Lee Child “Unmissable”, Martina Cole “Brilliant”, and Peter James “Compelling” - she has been described by the Daily Mail as a ‘rare talent’. Keen to support emerging writers, Leigh chairs the CWA Debut Dagger Judges, and is a Royal Literary Fellow.

Sneaky Peek

He had prepared for this moment with care, following his shuffling victim for several evenings along Coney Street to the doorway of an empty shop where he spent the night.

        Winter would soon be on its way, signalling the end of his opportunities until the spring because, when the weather turned cold, the homeless would seek out bricks and mortar shelter from the elements, safe from predators roaming the streets - and killers. But York in early September was warm, with only a slight chill in the air at night, and homeless people could still be found sleeping rough, even in wet weather.

        The tramp settled himself down in his doorway, exactly as he had done for the past few evenings, unaware that this was the last time he would pull his grubby coat around his bare ankles and pat his bundle into shape before using it as a pillow. Oblivious of his watcher, he reached into his coat pocket and drew out a small bottle. Laboriously, he heaved himself into a semi-recumbent position, leaning on one elbow, so that he could fumble with the lid before taking a swig. A trickle of pale amber liquid dribbled down his chin and disappeared into his straggly beard.

        Pressed motionless against the opposite wall, the watcher waited.

        At last the tramp settled down on his rough bed, curled himself into a foetal position, and lay still. Perhaps he heard a cautious footstep or a nearly silent breath because, just as the hooded figure reached him, the tramp stirred and his eyes flickered open. He half sat up, the expression in his watery grey eyes shifting from surprise to fear as he struggled to clamber to his feet, but his hoarse croak of protest came too late. The noose was already tightening around his throat.

        The tramp’s arms flailed helplessly for a moment before he grew limp, very suddenly, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and his filthy fingers stopped scrabbling at the sleeves of his assailant’s jacket. Had the sagging body not been held upright by the stick relentlessly turning at the nape of his neck, the victim would have collapsed. And still the noose tautened, carving a dark runnel around the unwashed neck.

        Finally, satisfied that his victim was dead, the assailant released the tension and stepped back. His hood was still pulled forward, masking his face. The only unforeseen complication was that fibres from his own jacket might be found lodged beneath the dead man’s fingernails. It was the kind of detail that could lead to a conviction. He would have to get rid of his jacket. That was a nuisance because his wife was bound to notice, but he could not risk keeping it. He would have to find an identical replacement for the jacket, or invent an excuse for its disappearance. Annoyed with himself for the oversight, he turned and slipped away along the glistening pavement.

        It had taken him less than a minute to become a killer.