Have just published the 6th book in the Mike Malone series. I thought that this time, I would not make Mike’s life quite so easy. He gets himself into a couple of scrapes this time, which I hope everyone enjoys. Fran will be able to put a picture up for me later, I’m not much good at the technical side of things, so for now have just added the link to the Amazon page.
Wow! I have just spotted that the second book in the Mike Malone series, ‘Happy Deathday to You’ is number 74 in the top 100 British Detective list on Amazon. Two of Ruth Rendell’s books are behind mine. I am so excited.
My next book in the Mike Malone series should be out around August. Increasingly I am finding the characters are taking on a life of their own, and in a very real sense, they do know naturally what to do!
I also intend to write another book later this year about Jack Sallt, the hard nosed Norfolk detective who has his own inner demons to fight, as well as criminals, and sometimes even his colleagues.
I think I’m going to be busy!
*Remember you can buy my books on amazon, why not take a look?
I can’t tell you what it’s about, except to say it’s a Mike Malone Mystery. It should be out in the new year.
When Jon McElvoy, a Liberal Democrat MP, is found dead in his North Norfolk home, DI Jack Sallt and his colleagues quickly decide that this is a murder made to look like a suicide. However, when the Intelligence Services arrive, all of their findings are thrown into the air.
As Jack tries to uncover and expose the truth, he finds that his personal demons not only come back to torment and tempt him, but they also threaten to end his career.
The Beginning
Helen called several times. She just wanted to talk, but his mobile was switched off. She called the landline and got the answer-phone. Perhaps he was out getting the morning groceries. She decided to drive round to the house; it was only four miles away and she didn’t like leaving messages on phones anyway. At least this way she could drop off any useful extra documents, letters or provisions without having to pop over later, after Jim had finally returned from birding. Was she making an excuse to see Jon? She told herself not to be ridiculous; after all, there were party matters to discuss.
It was just after nine when she arrived at the flint-covered terraced house; the May sun was threatening to break through the cloud which had amassed along the coast. She managed to park, squeezed behind his little yellow Cinquecento. If Jon had gone out, he hadn’t taken his car. As she got out of her car, she noticed a distinct chill in the air; the breeze off the North coast seemed to have stiffened somewhat. She opened the iron-gate, making a mental note to ask the gardener if he could come more regularly from now on. They didn’t want a repeat of last year. Grass was beginning to intrude upon the slate pathway and dandelions were having a riot on the lawn. But the roses would soon be out, as would the lavender. She smiled as she sauntered the few yards to the orange-yellow door, thinking back to last summer when every Saturday they had sat on the doorstep together after the surgery, clutching their mugs of tea, the heavenly aromas of lavender and rosemary filling the air around them while they talked about politics or her children.
“That’s strange,” she whispered, coming to an abrupt halt. The door was slightly ajar. Jon usually had the door locked at all times and it wasn’t very warm, certainly not warm enough to leave the door open. She pushed it open, brushing back the strands of auburn hair that had blown across her face.
“Jon? Only me.”
She stepped inside, kicking off her heels as she did so, and closed the door behind her, turning the key firmly. She sniffed the air. Alcohol! Jon didn’t normally drink. Even after six years in Westminster village with all its shenanigans and late nights, he only rarely drank. Or so he said.
“Jon? Are you there?”
She walked through into the small kitchen. There was an empty bottle of vodka on the scrubbed oak table. That was Polish writing on the label, she was sure of that. A foreign chocolate wrapper was beside it. She had sudden visions of him sleeping it off upstairs. He hadn’t said that he’d had a bad week when they spoke briefly on the phone yesterday. But it wasn’t vodka she could smell. Vodka didn’t smell, that much she knew. It was more like… whisky? In the silence, she felt her stomach churn. Dropping her briefcase on the stone floor, she walked through the hallway and stopped at the lounge. The door was closed. Her hand paused above the handle. There was no choice, she had to go in. “Quickly,” she said to herself. “Get it over with and it will be alright.” She turned the handle and walked in. It wasn’t alright.
“Jon? No!!”
She dashed across to where he lay on the grubby sofa. He was lying on his stomach, his face turned towards the door. His half-open eyes looked at her blankly and there was a graze and a bruise on his cheek. She knelt down, touching his limp hand while wiping away tears with her sleeve. His hand was cold. She saw the half empty bottle of whisky on the coffee table. She saw the bottle of pills. Sleeping pills? She stood and had a closer look at the bottle. Somehow she still had the wherewithal to know not to touch anything. Yes, they were sleeping pills. A pen and a blank sheet of paper lay on the floor, close to where his right foot touched the carpet.
Helen sat down, trembling, on the chair opposite him and took her phone from her handbag. Breathe, girl! Breathe! She took several deep breaths as she struggled to keep control. “Do the right thing”, she said out loud. Nine. Nine. Nine. They answered immediately.
In two weeks time I will be back at work and how the holiday has flown by. However, I have achieved so much and am totally chilled. Even today’s rain didn’t dampen my spirits as I was dashing to Argos to buy bits and pieces for my son to take back to uni.
Unfortunatley the cricket got rained off – but Peterborough United fought brilliantly last night in their game against Millwall. Well done, lads.
Plan for rest of today is to chill out a little bit more. The new novel had been downloaded onto Kindle and should be live by the weekend. I enjoyed writing a romance, it will be interesting to see what readers think of it. But back to crime now – have two novels bubbling away in the lap-top. But that’s for tomorrow. Tonight – feet up in front of the TV and Torchwood.
You can now read samples of Milly’s first book, ‘The Woolly Murders’ on her website
