The Monopoly Murders [Hardcover]

Sandy’s structure and form remind one of Le Carre at his best.

Synopsis
Three murders. There appears to be no connection except the scratching of the initials JTJ on each victim's lower arm. A taunting note disturbs DI Alexander's Christmas. Then a mocking laugh from his young niece jolts him into a frenzied hunt for the killer.
Could one of the world's favourite games really hold the key?
Where shall it be?
Obey the dice.
Where shall it be?
A fourth murder baffles the pathologist. "Heart attack, by a whisper ...his heart packed up just before his respiratory system was about to. There was an internal race within the poor man's body to see which could kill him first. Very messy, not seen anything quite like it."

CHAPTER ONE
Dearest Edgar
I do hope you don’t mind me calling you Edgar?
Tough if you do.
Well, have you got it yet? I don’t think so, somehow.
I’ll be in touch again soon.Won’t say when, I’d like
to keep you on your toes.
Best wishes as ever
Jake T J

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR Rory Alexander must have read the note a dozen
times that morning. He was still clueless as the last lunchtime before Christmas
beckoned.
He was ready to enjoy as best he could a four-day festive break, JTJ permitting.
At least now he had a first name to work with: Jake. But was Jake his real name?
Highly unlikely. And Edgar.Why Edgar?
He examined the brown envelope one more time. It was addressed ‘personal’
to DI Alexander; printed from a personal computer, just like the words on the
sheet of plain A4 copier paper inside. All very personal. Except there were no
signs left by the person he wanted.
Plain tap water had been used to seal the envelope. The only prints found on
the note belonged to the inspector.Two other discernible prints on the envelope
needed checking, but Alexander would wager his mortgage – when he got one
– on them belonging to postal staff and the sergeant who handled the internal
mail deliveries.
If Jake had timed this note to ruin his festive break then he had timed it with
unerring accuracy. It was genuine, of that Alexander was certain. The Met had
kept JTJ out of the papers.
Jake. Jake. Who the hell are you Jake? He wracked his memory and could not
come up with a single Jake. A few Jacks stumbled through his grey cells, some
lingering longer than others. He had played football, badly, with a Jack at
college; in his teens a Jack had lived a couple of doors from the family home; and
he had put two Jacks behind bars. Both of the latter were still doing time so he
could rule out them. Anyway, burglary to murder was a long hop. Alexander
could picture a couple of Jacobs, too. But no Jake. He knew no-one who went
by the name Jake. Except Jake The Peg from a long ago novelty song.
And TJ? Would he have to wait for more murders before this joker enlightened
him further? Joker. Joker! Joker? Could the second ‘J’ be for Joker? Three
murders, strange sense of humour this joker. He was getting a headache. Time
for a pint and then some brisk, last-minute Christmas shopping. His Christmas
shopping had been last-minute for as long as he could remember. Had Jake done
his shopping? Alexander shut that thought out of his brain, as he knew it could
only serve to worsen his headache.