I’m thrilled to be able to share this excerpt from the new novel Thirty-One Bones by Morgan Cry. Read on for an excerpt from the thriller that Ian Rankin (no relation!) calls “sweaty, seedy fun,” and that Denise Mina promises will deliver a “kick in the guts ending.” Morgan himself warns the reader that “it’s dangerous out in the sun.”

 

 

Thirty-One Bones by Morgan Cry

Genre: thriller

Publication: July 2, 2020 by Polygon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Daniella Coulstoun’s estranged mother Effie dies in Spain under suspicious circumstances, she feels it’s her duty to fly out for the funeral.

On arrival, Daniella is confronted by a dangerous group of expat misfits who claim that Effie stole huge sums of cash from them in a multi-million property scam. They want the money back and Daniella is on the hook for it.

When a suspicious Spanish detective begins to probe Effie’s death and a London gangster hears about the missing money, Daniella faces threats on every front. With no idea where the cash is and facing a seemingly impossible deadline, she quickly finds herself out of her depth and fighting for survival in a strange and terrifying world.

Chapter 1

Skinning the Cat

‘It’s the mother lode,’ says Effie Coulstoun to the young investor. ‘For just a small deposit you get ten per cent of the game and even our worst projections will make you a very rich man.’

Effie looks around Se Busca, her pub; a practised, surreptitious action designed to suggest to the investor that the information she is imparting is not for other ears. Given the bar is closed and empty, the look is just part of the game. Counting to ten in her head she turns back to the young man.

‘In fact, Paul,’ she whispers, ‘you would be a millionaire.’

Paul’s eyes flicker in the half-light. His straggly hair and third- hand clothes speak of his financial plight. He lifts both hands from the table and slowly rubs them together. And Effie knows she has him. Right here, right now, she has him. Another chunk of cash in the pot.

God, but I feel good this morning. Radiant. Sod the eighth decade I’m in – I feel twenty. Those bloody pills are a marvel. Illegal but bloody wonderful. God thank friends with access to such things. Just the job to give me a bit more energy.

‘Let me freshen up that beer,’ Effie says, rising. She crosses to the bar and stretches across wood that has a lifetime of drink, sweat and tears rubbed into it, and, with practised ease, fills a pint mug with a perfectly poured measure containing 450 ml of beer and a half-inch head. Advertised as a UK pint – it’s from the glasses she keeps for the odd tourist who unwittingly stumbles into her pub.

Effie gazes around her domain as the beer settles in the glass, and takes in the dark, low-slung ceiling, underpowered bulbs and shadows that outweigh light ten to one – a deliberate choice in illumination. Cuts down on the need for any redecoration. With no window to the outside world the bar is a spaceship. Go anywhere, be anywhere. To her left, one wall is a shrine to gigs of yesteryear. Torn, faded posters of festivals, concerts, shows. None newer than the late eighties. Some of the paperwork on that wall would be worth serious money, if its condition was better. In the far corner a dirty white pinboard advertises local events and bands. The latest some two years back. Effie doesn’t hold with advertising other people’s stuff. Not any more. Her notorious tightness with money has deepened with time. Fuck ’em, is her late-age motto. She glances at the ceiling. Banknotes plaster every available inch. At last count there were more than 160 countries represented up there. Total value, 206 euros, at today’s exchange rates. Effie had costed it all up a month ago after someone told her that a few of the older notes might have some serious antique value. The someone had been talking piss, but Effie had found the exercise of calculating the notes’ true worth oddly satisfying.


 

 

Meredith’s note: Doesn’t this sound intriguing? I’m hooked. I want to know if Effie will swindle this particular man, don’t you?! Read on for how to buy the book!

Buy Thirty-One Bones

Amazon UK

Birlinn

 

About Morgan Cry

Gordon Brown has seven crime and thriller books published to date, along with a number of short stories. His latest novel, Highest Lives, published by Strident Publishing, is the fourth in the Craig McIntyre series.

Under a new name, Morgan Cry, Polygon will be publishing Gordon’s new crime thriller, set in Spain. Called ‘Thirty-One Bones’ it will be available in July 2020.

Gordon also helped found Bloody Scotland, Scotland’s International Crime Writing Festival (see www.bloodyscotland.com), is a DJ on local radio (www.pulseonair.co.uk) and runs a strategic planning consultancy. He lives in Scotland and is married with two children.

In a former life Gordon delivered pizzas in Toronto, sold non-alcoholic beer in the Middle East, launched a creativity training business, floated a high tech company on the London Stock Exchange, compered the main stage at a two-day music festival and was once booed by 49,000 people while on the pitch at a major football Cup Final. (Bio from author website)

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