Marris Otter Murder [EBOOK]

<h3>Prologue</h3>
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The storm was no longer on its way; it had arrived in all its grand glory in the sleepy market town of Gosdown. Bolts of lightning streaked across the sky and thunder rattled at the windows. Rain lashed the pavements, drenching any who dared to remain outdoors. This was a day of dark, looming clouds. A typical squall that might follow any hot summer's day, particularly in the unpredictable weather patterns of the English countryside.
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Gosdown’s residents knew better than to be out and about when the clouds burst open. They dashed indoors to stay dry, leaving the weather to do its thing. Hopefully, it would wash away the stifling heat they'd endured these past few days. Most welcomed the storm, looking for a refreshing break in the summer’s heatwave.
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From a house in a distant street, a dog barked at the rumblings in the dark skies. Elsewhere, a child sought out the assurances of its parents, afraid the noise was a roaring monster on the prowl. Most simply got on with their day, with the knowledge that the storm would pass by soon enough. If they were lucky, the sun would break through soon enough.
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The town’s post office floor was a sodden mess. Puddles formed like small pools from the dripping umbrellas, but trade was as brisk as any other day. Standing in the queue to post their parcels, some tutted at the stormy weather. Others discussed other topics, such as the constantly rising prices of everything. Most were intrigued by the new shopping mall that might soon become a part of Gosdown’s landscape.
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Not every inhabitant in town was inclined to gossip. One such individual struggled with their own inner turmoil, occupied with deep, dark thoughts. They sat alone in a room, in the centre of town. A ringing phone echoed out, and a shaking hand reached to answer it. The other hand held on to a glass of dark liquor to calm their phantoms. Displeased with whoever was bothering them in their private moment, they answered the phone, if only to stop its shrill ring.
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“Yes! What is it?” a quivering voice demanded.
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“Your assistance is required. You know what to do,” a familiar voice replied.
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“I won’t do it," the voice quivered in response. "I refuse to be a part of this, you can’t make me do it.”
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“Yes, you will. And, yes, we can,” was the menacing response. The recipient of the call took a deep drink from the glass of fiery liquor, swallowing it with an audible gulp.
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“You need to take better care of yourself," the caller said with a threatening tone. "Be careful not to drink yourself to death!” The call ended abruptly, leaving the receiver numb with fear.
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The dark skies illuminated again with a bright electrical discharge of lightning. This time, the pealing of thunder wasn’t so quick to follow. The storm was leaving town.
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If only they could leave with it. What choice did they have other than to become embroiled in the devious plans of others? Taking another swig of whisky was the only answer. That should at least give some temporary reprieve. Tomorrow, there would be no escape.