Book Extract: End Game by Liz Mistry

I am so pleased to be welcoming Liz Mistry to Novel Kicks and the blog tour for her novel, End Game.

Four dead bodies. One missing person. Let the game begin.

When an anonymous tip-off leads Detective Nikki Parekh and DS Sajid Malik to the sprawling Salinger estate, Nikki’s senses are on high alert. The brutal murder of all four members of the Salinger family has shocked the sleepy Bradford village to the core.

A mother, father, daughter, and son. . .  all killed in exactly the same way – whilst sat around the coffee table, playing a game of monopoly.

But Nikki notices that there are five pieces on the board. One of the players is missing… Did they manage to escape the killer, or was the killer part of the game?

Liz has shared an extract today so grab that drink, find that comfy chair and enjoy! 

(warning: language.)

*****beginning of extract*****

Prologue

Then: Marnie

It is the hottest day of the summer yet. That shimmering heat idling just above the grass. Even in my shorts and strappy T-shirt, just looking at it makes me feel sticky and tired. I want to laze under the massive spreading oak tree with my colouring books. Just sit quietly, with my own thoughts. Starting high school after the summer holidays preys on my mind. Such a big step. Such a massive change. I’ll be leaving my friends behind because, despite my arguments, they’ve decided the local comprehensive school isn’t good enough for me. I don’t get it. If it’s good enough for my friends then why isn’t it good enough for me? Do Mum and Dad think I deserve more than Alice or Fiona? That feels wrong to me.

Anyway, this was day five of my war against the parents. I’d tried arguing, I’d tried pleading and nothing had worked. Today I was trying silence. The only problem is my annoying little sister Jilly. Why can’t she just find something to do that doesn’t involve annoying me? God she is soooo lame. Sooooo annoying. There she is trundling out the back door, a plastic bag filled with picnic stuff hanging off her wrist and a smile as wide as one of those arches on the viaduct we’d visited the other week. I edge my way round the foot of the tree till I am out of view of the kitchen window and tuck my legs out of sight.

‘Marnie. Marnie. I know you’re there. I saw you crawl behind the tree. I’ve brought snacks.’

Aw shut up, Jilly. The heat is making me mardy and Jilly always brings out the worst in me. She’s always there. If she isn’t harping on at me about something, she’s following me and my pals around like a stupid collie dog desperate for a pat. I hate her sometimes. Sometimes I really, really hate her.

‘I know today’s your “not speaking to anyone day”, but you still got to eat, Marn. I’ve got ice lollies.’

The ice lollies are tempting. Little dribbles of sweat are trickling down my front and soaking into my new bra – my first bra. I stick my boobs out and study them – two fried eggs underneath a padded egg cosy. I don’t really need one yet, but Mum had insisted I should wear one before I went to high school – all the girls will be wearing them, Marnie – you don’t want to stand out, do you?

Even the memory of her words pisses me off. Who the hell is she to tell me to fit in? If I went to the comp in Baildon with everyone else, there’d be no need to fit in, would there? Why can’t she see that? Alice and Fiona don’t care if I wear a bloody bra or not. I wiggle my shoulders and study my boobs some more. I actually quite like wearing it. Maybe I just don’t want to admit that I’m growing up. Starting my periods was bad enough, but sprouting boobies is a step too far. Although they’re only small, they still jiggle when I run and that makes them rub against my T-shirt when I play football. At least the bra stops that from happening.

That’s another thing. There’s no football at the posh new school – well not for the girls anyway – probably not ladylike enough for them. They know how much I love playing football. They know how good I am at it. If I went to Baildon High, I’d get a place on the team, no probs. Now where am I supposed to play? You can take up a new sport, Marnie. Find something else you like doing – maybe hockey or volleyball? I don’t want to play bloody hockey or bloody stupid volleyball. I want to play football. That’s what I want to play. Tears well in my eyes and I brush them away before Jilly comes into sight again.

A shadow blocks the sun from me and there she is, all smiles and eagerness as she flops down beside me cross-legged. ‘Come on, Marnie. Have a lolly. You don’t need to speak, but you can have a lolly.’

Her face is all puckered up – her forehead all covered in lines and her lips are all wobbly, like she doesn’t know what to do for the best. I know she’s worried about me. I take pity on her and without smiling, I hold out my hand and she slaps the ice-cold, already-melting lolly onto my palm and then sidles right up to me and leans against the tree, her legs straight out in front of her.

‘Jilly, Jilly. I can see you out there. Your legs are sticking out from behind the tree. Have you seen Marnie? She’s got a dentist’s appointment in a bit.’ Mum’s voice penetrates the space between the kitchen window and the tree at the bottom of the garden with no bother. Jilly looks at me and shrugs. ‘Sorry, Marn. Should’ve kept my legs crossed.’

Still in silent mode I grab her hand as she gets to her feet and place my fingers near my lips, making a locking sign. Jilly smiles. ‘I won’t tell her where you are, sis. Course I won’t. I’ll go back up before she comes down here looking for you herself. You keep the snacks. There’s Oreos and Irn-Bru and crisps in the bag.’

For some reason Jilly bends down and kisses the top of my head, the scent of her strawberry shampoo tickling my nostrils. ‘Don’t let the Beep Beeps get you down, Marn. Don’t ever let the Beep Beeps win.’

The incongruousness of her words makes my lips twitch. Her use of Beep Beeps instead of bastards is just soooo Jilly and I have an urge to whisper I love you, Jills, but I don’t. Her words strengthen my resolve to remain silent. Jilly’s never kissed me on the head like that before and I don’t know why she’s done it now. But it feels good. Like we’re a team. Like, all of a sudden, my annoying little sister has grown up. Then it hits me. She’ll miss me when I got to high school. She’ll miss seeing me in the playground or walking beside me to school. Things are going to change for her too, not just for me. Why didn’t I realise that before? I’m the worst big sister ever. I smile at her and wink and she skips back up the garden, her skinny legs all angles and knobbles.

With Mum’s voice fading away I close my eyes and suck on my lolly, savouring its orangey tang. Even with Jilly covering for me, Mum will find me eventually. Course she will. She’s nothing if not relentless, my mum. I sigh as the last slush of ice slides down my throat, giving me brain freeze. For now, though, I can savour the quiet. I hadn’t realised being silent would be so hard. Never realised before how often I used my voice – how many words spluttered out of my mouth. The strain of swallowing my words was hard. All through breakfast, she’d bombarded me with questions, then threats, then angry words, but I’d held firm. But who knew how long that would last?

As a dark cloud dims the colours behind my eyelids and the warmth of the sun dissipates, I shiver, sensing the shadow looming over me. Unsure whether Jilly has come back or whether my mum has found me I pretend not to know anyone is there. They’ll speak soon enough. Jilly can’t stay quiet for longer than two seconds and as for my mum, she’ll be fuming by now.

But, nobody speaks. The silence thickens and I wonder if maybe Mum is playing me at my own game. That’s when rough hands grab me by my shoulders and haul me to my feet. Sweat and stale smoke pervade my nostrils as I struggle against those calloused fingers that are digging into my skin. I could open my eyes. I could break my silence. I could scream. But I don’t. I’ve no idea why I don’t. I just don’t – I can’t.

*****end of extract*****

About Liz Mistry–

Born in Scotland made in Bradford sums up LIZ MISTRY’s life. Over thirty-five years ago she moved from a small village in West Lothian to Yorkshire to get her teaching degree. Once here, Liz fell in love with three things: curries, the rich cultural diversity of the city… and her Indian husband (not necessarily in this order). Now thirty years, three children, Scumpy, the cat, and a huge extended family later, Liz uses her experiences of living and working in the inner city to flavour her writing. Her gritty crime fiction police procedural novels set in Bradford embrace the city she describes as ‘Warm, Rich and Fearless’, whilst exploring the darkness that lurks beneath.

Having struggled with severe clinical depression and anxiety for many years, Liz often includes mental health themes in her writing. She credits the MA in Creative Writing she took at Leeds Trinity University with helping her find a way of using her writing to navigate her ongoing mental health struggles. Liz’s PhD research contributes significantly to debates concerning issues of inclusion and diversity of representation within the most socially engaged genre of contemporary crime fiction Being a debut novelist in her fifties was something Liz had only dreamed of and she counts herself lucky, whilst pinching herself regularly to make sure it’s all real.

Say hello to Liz via her website, Twitter and Facebook. 

End Game is book six in the Nikki Parekh series and was released by HQ Digital on 14th April with the paperback release coming in June 2023. Click here to buy on Amazon UK, Waterstones and Amazon US.

by

Laura

I’m Laura. I started Novel Kicks in 2009. I wanted a place to post my writing as well as give other writers like me the opportunity to do the same. There is also a monthly book club, a writing room which features writing prompts, book reviews, competitions, author interviews and guest posts.

I grew up by the sea (my favourite place in the world) and I currently live in Hampshire. I am married to Chris, have a cat named Buddy and I would love to be a writer. I’m trying to write the novel I’ve talked so much about writing if only I could stop pressing delete. I’ve loved writing since creative writing classes in primary school. I have always wanted to see my teacher Miss Sayers again and thank her for the encouragement. When not trying to write the novel or writing snippets of stories on anything I can get my hands on, I love reading, dancing like a loon and singing to myself very badly. My current obsession is Once Upon a Time and I would be happy to live with magic in the enchanted forest surrounded by all those wonderful stories provided that world also included Harry Potter. I love reading chick lit. contemporary fiction and novels with mystery.