Excerpt from The Good Liar by Denise Mina, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

The man walking next to her wouldn't have let her out of the stairwell if he knew what she was planning. He was the living embodiment of the status quo.

Lord Philip Ardmore had organised this celebration. It was the first anniversary of the opening of the Royal College of Forensic Scientists building, a relaunch. Last year's actual opening party was ruined by the bloody events at Chester Terrace and it was important to Philip that tonight went well. He had steered the whole College project from design to completion and the building was a mirror to the man: clean, lean, considered and calming.

Ardmore, slim as a bookmark, was tall with thick silver hair. Though closing in on sixty, he still walked with a youthful bobbing gait, the eager lope of someone keen to get where he was going. This evening he was dressed in a classic but casual cream linen suit, the raspberry lining occasionally visible next to his crisp blue shirt. He wore no tie.

Professor Claudia O'Sheil, MBE, was a foot shorter and wide of hip, twenty years Philip's junior with skin that tanned at the opening of a fridge and glossy black hair that neither steam nor witchcraft could tame. She had dressed in a black silk shirt under an Yves St Laurent trouser suit in burnt orange velvet that was terrifyingly easy to stain.

Philip expected the night to go like this: a bit of mingling, sipping champagne, and then they'd all file into the auditorium. He'd introduce Claudia in glowing terms and then she would get up and tell the story of Jonty and Francesca's murders, finally putting that ghastly episode behind them all. The applause would be rapturous. Afterwards they would mill for a while, being congratulated, greeting old friends, before slipping out of a side door to a waiting car and being driven over to his club for a celebration dinner.

The Albemarle Club was so high table that it had only recently acknowledged the existence of women. Eight former Prime Ministers had been members and Beau Brummel was one of its founders. Members were limited to a few visitors per year and being invited to supper there was a step up on the golden ladder. Philip knew that Claudia loved a bit of upper-class nonsense, that's why he nominated her for her MBE. He'd hinted that, after this evening, a damehood could only be an honours list or two away.

But that was not the evening Claudia had planned.

She was going to get up on stage and, in full view of everyone, she was going to tell the truth about what happened. She was going to hit the fuck-it button and blow her life up. It would ruin her and they were roped together, these two. Only Claudia was braced for the fall though. Philip was defenseless.

Feeling a pang of conscience, she glanced at him and saw his nose twitching.

'Claudia, have you been smoking?'

She bristled. 'No, of course not.' But then she sniffed her sleeve, the soft velvet brushing her nose, and even she could smell the disgusting tang of smoke. 'Actually, I have.' She bit her bottom lip. 'I didn't notice the smell. Shit.'

Philip reached into his inside pocket. 'No, it's fine. Look.' He took out a tiny sample vial of scent. 'Shall I squit this cologne over you?' He held it above her head, his finger poised over the pump lid.

She nodded and he sprayed a tiny glittering cloud into the air. It settled on her head and shoulders. Philip sniffed the air around her, 'You smell lovely now.' But she didn't really smell lovely. She just smelled like him.

They continued down the stairs and Claudia autopsied her response: was it normal to deny she'd been smoking and then admit it? Did she sound anxious? She wasn't used to lying to anyone but herself.

If she sounded nervous the audience could dismiss what she said, say she was hysterical, a disappointing speaker, she'd had a terribly sad life what with her husband's awful death and everything. They'd say that she was past her best.

Excerpted from The Good Liar by Denise Mina. Copyright © 2025 by Denise Mina. Excerpted by permission of Mulholland. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.