Back Blood Rites
Chapters (68)
  1. Cover
  2. Chapter 1
  3. Chapter 2
  4. Chapter 3
  5. Chapter 4
  6. Chapter 5
  7. Chapter 6
  8. Chapter 7
  9. Chapter 8
  10. Chapter 9
  11. Chapter 10
  12. Chapter 11
  13. Chapter 12
  14. Chapter 13
  15. Chapter 14
  16. Chapter 15
  17. Chapter 16
  18. Chapter 17
  19. Chapter 18
  20. Chapter 19
  21. Chapter 20
  22. Chapter 21
  23. Chapter 22
  24. Chapter 23
  25. Chapter 24
  26. Chapter 25
  27. Chapter 26
  28. Chapter 27
  29. Chapter 28
  30. Chapter 29
  31. Chapter 30
  32. Chapter 31
  33. Chapter 32
  34. Chapter 33
  35. Chapter 34
  36. Chapter 35
  37. Chapter 36
  38. Chapter 37
  39. Chapter 38
  40. Chapter 39
  41. Chapter 40
  42. Chapter 41
  43. Chapter 42
  44. Chapter 43
  45. Chapter 44
  46. Chapter 45
  47. Chapter 46
  48. Chapter 47
  49. Chapter 48
  50. Chapter 49
  51. Chapter 50
  52. Chapter 51
  53. Chapter 52
  54. Chapter 53
  55. Chapter 54
  56. Chapter 55
  57. Chapter 56
  58. Chapter 57
  59. Chapter 58
  60. Chapter 59
  61. Chapter 60
  62. Chapter 61
  63. Chapter 62
  64. Chapter 63
  65. Acknowledgements
  66. Canelo Crime
  67. About the Author
  68. Also by Rachel Lynch

She heard Nikki humming. ‘O’Connor? That’s Irish isn’t it? Only the travellers have names like that. I’d watch it if I were you, they’re fucking brutal. Wasn’t it the O’Connors who were involved in the scraps with police up at Birkett Mire? Years ago, it was. They’re always being moved on, fucking pikeys. Never clear up after themselves. It’s the poor kids I feel sorry for: never washed or sent to school.’

‘Thanks, Nikki. Let me know about Ria’s birthday.’

‘I will. You still see that old bloke who fancied Mum?’

‘Ted?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

‘I do.’

‘Why? He’s odd.’

‘I’ll tell you all about it one day.’ She hung up.

Birkett Mire again. She prepared a bowl of salad and made a quick dressing in a small jar, and set it on the side. She got the cheese selection, bought from Keswick market by Johnny, out of the fridge and placed it on a board for later. The tarts would take half an hour in the oven. She went back to join Demi and Johnny, and found them laughing together.

‘Demi, let’s show Johnny the star.’

‘The star?’ Johnny asked.

‘The pentagram I made from spaghetti. Someone at work is much cleverer than me and has made an app to impose it over the Lake District, come on, we’ll show you. I need your local knowledge.’

‘Kelly tells me that she’s quite the artist with a bit of dried pasta. It did make me chuckle at first but I reckon she’s on to something.’

‘Kelly told me you profile criminals for the police. That must be a brilliant job. All that psycho stuff makes me wish I’d done it. I watch some of the crime programmes on CSI. Kelly hates it, she watches cookery shows instead.’

‘I’m not surprised, busman’s holiday and all that. Besides, cookery shows are safer.’

They went inside and Kelly powered on her iPad. HOLMES came up on the screen and she quickly read it for any updates. The dynamic reasoning engine was a godsend when her team was tired. Weary human eyes easily missed something, and before the programme had been invented, she reckoned that thousands of criminals must have walked free. Including the most famous of them all, Jack the Ripper himself. The case was every detective’s wet dream: to be there in 1888, armed with today’s technology… Now that would be something.

‘Demi, you know you said the five victims of Jack the Ripper were located in a pentagram? Was that ever used in an investigation?’