Read Ten Guilty Men (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 3) Online
Authors: Sean Campbell,Daniel Campbell
Tags: #Murder Mystery, #british detective, #suspense, #thriller, #police procedural, #crime
Ten Guilty Men (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 3) (33 page)
‘How many of you are in favour?’
‘Ten.’
‘And against?’
‘Two.’
Judge Heenan nodded appreciatively. ‘I would like to thank you for your service. You are dismissed.’
Morton looked over to Kieran, who gave him a thumbs up. But Morton didn’t share the prosecutor’s glee. Gabriella’s tears seemed to be real. Morton exhaled deeply. To him it seemed that two women had been convicted for a murder that only one of them had committed.
A killer had been caught. But had justice been done?
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Ten Guilty Men.
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DCI Morton returns in
The Patient Killer
, available now at all good bookstores.
Keep reading for a sample chapter...
The Patient Killer
Isaac Ebstein’s patients died more often than most doctors’.
Thirteen hours a day, six days a week, Ebstein could be found in the operating room with his scalpel in his right hand. Specialising in trauma surgery had been a blessing and a curse. He was never short of work – or bodies.
Most of the time, Ebstein and his team knew who would die before they cut them open. Unexpected deaths were something of a rarity. Even the bleeders, fresh from knife fights and car crashes, usually made it off the operating table and into intensive care. That was just the way Ebstein liked it. His patients died, but he rarely saw them go.
The third of November was different. His patient had been rushed in, organs ruptured and haemorrhaging blood faster than they could replace it. She had been as good as dead the moment she’d been pulled from the wreckage of her car.
It should have been simple: patch her up and send her off to the intensive care unit to die.
Scar tissue had put paid to that. The woman had undergone previous surgeries, and her insides were thick with sinewy scar tissue, which meant Ebstein couldn’t suture the arteries in time. Ebstein pronounced at three oh two p.m., and in a heartbeat the whirlwind of an active operating theatre, alive with the sounds of activity bordering on mania, fell into an awkward silence. Ebstein exhaled deeply, grimaced, and nodded his thanks to the assembled staff.
It wasn’t anybody’s fault, other than the guy who’d smashed his car into the victim’s.
Her widower didn’t see it that way. Ebstein found him pacing up and down in the corridor outside the friends and family waiting room. A row of chairs sat unused underneath the window.
Ebstein approached him cautiously. ‘Mr Taaft?’
The bigger man turned to reveal bloodshot eyes. His jaw was set in a grimace. ‘How is she?’ he demanded.
Ebstein hung his head. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Taaft. I’m afraid she didn’t make it.’
Taaft’s eyes widened. He stared at Ebstein for a moment, then gave out a guttural roar that reverberated down the corridor. Ebstein took a step backwards, shying away from Taaft.
He was too slow. Taaft snatched up one of the chairs from beneath the window, spun around with it, and slammed the chair into Ebstein’s side, knocking the surgeon to the floor.
Ebstein looked up at his assailant, afraid to speak lest he get hit again. He raised a hand to his head to find his hair wet and matted with blood.
‘Please! Don’t!’ Ebstein begged.
Taaft swung again, and Ebstein’s world exploded in front of him.
***
The room swam in and out of focus when Ebstein awoke. His first thought was to wonder if he’d been out drinking. His head felt like he had been.
Then a hand snapped into view.
‘How many fingers am I holding up?’ a disembodied voice asked.
After a pause Ebstein realised he was being addressed by the hospital’s chief neurologist, Dr Hargreaves. With an effort Ebstein forced his eyes to focus and then mumbled: ‘Two. And no need to swear.’
Hargreaves grinned. ‘Thought we’d lost you for a minute, there.’
‘What happened?’
‘Big fella took a swing at you with a chair. You crumpled like a pansy. He’s calmed down now, and wants to apologise. He’s convinced you’re going to sue him.’
Ebstein rubbed at his temples, then tried to stand. His legs felt like jelly, but they held steady as he wrenched himself upright.
Hargreaves leapt forward, offering up his arm to support Ebstein. ‘Woah! Slow down there, tiger. You’ve got a concussion. You’re going nowhere. Besides, I’ve got some news for you.’
‘Good news?’ Ebstein asked.
Hargreaves nodded. ‘We found you a match.’
Ebstein perked up. ‘How good?’
‘Six points,’ Hargreaves said. ‘No donor-specific antibodies. Negative for flow crossmatch.’
‘You found a six-point match among the staff? That’s incredible.’ Ebstein found himself smiling for the first time that day.
‘We did. But...’ Hargreaves trailed off.
‘But what?’
‘You’re not going to like who it is.’
‘Who?’ Ebstein demanded.
Hargreaves told him. Ebstein’s smile disappeared.
Table of Contents
Chapter 2: The Old Coach House
Chapter 3: Too Much Information
Chapter 9: The Culloden Estate
Chapter 11: Walworth Veterinary Clinic and Pet Hospital
Chapter 18: Late To Bed, Early to Rise
Chapter 22: Money, Money, Money
Chapter 26: Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way
Chapter 32: The Findy-Windy Thing
Chapter 34: The President of the United States of America
Chapter 35: Thicker Than Water
Chapter 44: Three Down, Two to Go?
Chapter 56: Means, Motive and Opportunity
Chapter 58: Beyond Reasonable Doubt