Linda Regan - Dead Like Her

Linda Regan

Also by Linda Regan in eBook from eCC Creative Crime:

Behind You!

Passion Killers

Praise for Linda Regans previous sizzlers from Crme de la Crime:

What a great writer Linda Regan is.

(She) gets the atmosphere spot on no doubt due to her own theatrical experience. a nailbiting mystery. I loved it. Dont miss it.

Richard Briers CBE

Linda Regan certainly knows her stuff about the clashes of theatrical egos which can so easily lead to murder.

Simon Brett

Linda Regan brings her characters to life and cunningly uses her personal experience to strip away the glamour and reveal the other side of show-business.

Jimmy Perry OBE - creator of Dads Army and Hi-de-Hi

the narrative (is) both readable and believable. For a first novel it is extremely well written.

Jim Kennedy, Encore magazine

noticeably darker than that of its predecessor, Behind You! a writer well worth keeping an eye on.

Martin Edwards, Tangled Web

There are surprizes in store even at the last minute. A well written story with a lively collection of characters.

Angela Youngman, Monsters and Critics

One of the best upcoming writers

Peter Guttridge, the Observer

Crme de la Crime so far have not put a foot wrong.

Reviewing the Evidence

First published in 2009
by Crme de la Crime
P O Box 523, Chesterfield, S40 9AT

Copyright 2009 Linda Regan

The moral right of Linda Regan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.

All the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Typesetting by Yvette Warren
Cover design by Yvette Warren
Front cover image by Peter Roman

ISBN 978-0-9557078-8-9
eBook ISBN 978-1-906790-92-9
A CIP catalogue reference for this book is available from the British Library

Printed and bound in Great Britain by
Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading, Berkshire

www.creativecontentdigital.com

About the author:

Linda Regan is a successful actress. She is married to the actor Brian Murphy, and they live in Kent with their dog Mildred.

www.lindareganonline.co.uk

There are many people without who this book really would not have come together. I cannot thank them enough for their input and expertise, and I would like to acknowledge here their generosity in giving their time and knowledge:

My friend and editor Lynne Patrick, whose expertise on crime writing and love of chocolate had made my life much happier not to mention the loan of her daughters teddy bear!

DC Paul Steed for keeping me on the right side of the law, and putting up with my endless questions, and righting me when I venture into criminal mistakes.

The charming PC Cindy Dobberson, for generously giving her time and helpful advice, and for her knowledge of South London policing not forgetting the excellent coffee.

Robbie Gentry for his fire expertise. (This time I made the coffee!)

The support from all my chums at the University of Portsmouth. Thank you for the pep talks, the train timetables, and especially for handwriting expertise from Kate Strzelczyk.

And as ever, to my wonderful husband for everything.

I was inspired to write this book because my late father, Peter Regan, so loved Marilyn Monroe. Sadly he never made it to see me play her in the story of her life.

This book is dedicated to him.

It is also dedicated to my own favourite sex symbol my wonderful husband Brian Murphy.

Sadie Morgan could have been Marilyn Monroe. The blood-red dress was an exact replica of an iconic one. It clung to Sadies curvy figure and opened from her ankle all the way up her long shapely legs to the top of her thigh, allowing a glimpse of black seamed stockings, a hint of thigh and a cheeky red marabou garter to peep through. She stood with her back to the audience, wiggling her hips in time with the CD track of Diamonds Are a Girls Best Friend. Then she walked up the steep stairs.

She reached the top, flicked the red marabou boa over her shoulder and turned her head, resting her chin on her shoulder and shaping her mouth into Marilyns famous sultry pout before stretching her shiny scarlet lips into an innocent smile.

She was the best Marilyn Monroe impersonator this tribute club had.

The room span. She momentarily lost concentration, but carried on, bobbing her bottom in time with the music and stretching her arm, pointing a gloved index finger to the dazzling rings on her other hand. Normally in this part of the routine the audience were going wild, but tonight they felt distant; she heard only murmurs, and now she was struggling to remember the words.

She had worked here at Doubles for a year, earning almost as much for her three spots a week as she did as a full-time staff nurse at the local hospital. She always mimed to this song and suddenly she couldnt remember the words. Something was wrong. It felt like a bad dream.

The room span again and she had to grab the banister to stay upright. It took all her energy to carry on.

Shed only had the usual single shot of whisky before her performance, and it never affected her. What was happening?

She looked out into the audience. Eddie Chang stood in his usual place, arms folded, diamond signet ring glistening on his little finger. He wore a made-to-measure purple suit with matching lining, with a lilac silk tie and a handkerchief in his top pocket. He was easy to spot: his hair was black on top and completely grey underneath, styled and lacquered so not one hair was out of place. He always watched the Marilyns not just because he owned the tribute club, but because he was obsessed with the Hollywood goddess. He demanded perfection: the dress and wig had to be exact replicas of the ones the star had worn, the walk identical, the infamous pout rehearsed endlessly. Mr Chang had to be satisfied the impersonator could pass for Marilyn Monroe.

His face blurred, then cleared. Was he smiling at her or scowling?

She realised she had missed her cue. She should have started to walk down the stairs at this point in the song and he noticed everything. He was blurred again, but she could still see him watching her. So was Johnny Gladman, doorman and jack of all trades for the club, standing next to a life-size cardboard cut-out of Marilyn in that famous white dress, pushing the pleated skirt down, giggling as gusts of wind threatened to reveal her knickers. Johnnys dark-skinned hand covered his mouth, a sure sign she was messing up.

She didnt want to lose her reputation as the best of the many Marilyns working in this club. Being the top impersonator meant not waiting on tables or serving drinks, and she earned more money, which she desperately needed to finish paying her way out of her marriage and keep her flat. She enjoyed the attention and compliments too; shed never experienced either in her six-year marriage.

Had someone spiked her drink? She was a nurse, so she knew the signs. Was it possible Eddie Chang had found out what she was planning?

Suddenly she was frightened.

Someone laughed. Were they laughing at her? Eddie had turned his back on her; his attention was now on the Marilyn Monroe film running silently on a screen in the other side of the club. That was a very bad sign.