Once again we had a trying year and as much as I had hoped 2021 would refresh my reading mojo that was lost in 2020 but alas books were not my goto mental boost. Add in my mother's health issues and I found I had only read 113 books. So once again my Best of lists may be shorter but everything I read/listened to were so brilliant it was still a hard choice. So over the next two weeks I'll be featuring my Best Reads as well as Best ofs for my special day posts which are a combination of best reads and most viewed, I hope my Best of list helps you to find a new read, be it new-new or new-to-you or maybe it will help you to rediscover a forgotten favorite. Happy Reading and my heartfelt wish for everyone is that 2022 will be a year of recovery, growth, and in the world of reading a year of discovering a new favorite.
The Case of the Boy in Blue by Amanda Meuwissen
Summary:Leonard Quill, private investigator, never expected a case to walk through his door quite like this one, complete with murder, a frame job, blackmail, and powerful players, especially coming from a man with bright blue eyes behind his glasses, a crooked bow tie, and an impossible smile.
The Case of the Boy in Blue is a wonderfully told film noir setting, has a very 40s feel though I don't recall reading an actual date. Okay, so there's no femme fatale that most feel is necessary for actual noir but I never felt it had to have that character for the genre. Leonard and Westley play off each other in a spectacular fashion that is perfect for the setting and mystery. Combine their connection with the world building and you have a read that borders on remarkable for a short story.
I've never read Amanda Meuwissen before but this won't be the last, I look forward to checking out her backlist and any future stories. If you are like me and Amanda Meuwissen is a new-to-you author, The Case of the Boy in Blue is a perfect piece to introduce yourself, the balance of mystery, humor, attraction, and world building(the "remarkable" element I mentioned above) creates a memorable, fun, entertaining gem.
RATING:
Secret Simon by Davidson King
Summary:Haven Hart Universe
Simon
Being the nephew of one of the most infamous mob bosses in the world isn’t easy. Our family has enemies everywhere, and no one is safe without protection. Here I am at college with a fresh start, a new last name, and secrets hidden from those around me—life is going according to plan. Then one day on campus, I see him…and I want him to strip me bare…in more ways than one.
Rush
Abernathy is more than just the university I attend. It’s my destiny, my namesake. Singing and entertaining are who I am, but my father wants me to major in something more appropriate for the name I carry. I’ve resigned myself to being who my father wants, doing what he wants. Then Simon comes into my life…and turns everything upside down. Now I have a reason to fight for what I want.
Who knew our love story would lead to secrets revealed, murderous plots, and finding our forever buried under so many lies? Hopefully we’ll live long enough to see it.
(While Secret Simon is a Haven Hart Novel it is not linked to the 7 book story arc)
*Warning: Violence and mention of suicide*
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN! OMG! The Force is with us all! We have a new Haven Hart book by Davidson King!!!!!!
Okay, I got that out of my system, lets continue.
I should start by pointing out as the author mentions at the end of the blurb, Secret Simon is not linked to the original 7 book arc, story-wise at least. We see a few of the characters and of course "Simon" is Eight all grown up(he's still Eight to Snow but I have a feeling Snow will still be calling him Eight when he's 60). So if you haven't read Davidson King's Haven Hart universe you can start here although I don't know that I would want to, you won't be lost in any way, shape, or form. To be honest, I am a series-read-in-order kinda gal and Haven Hart is one of my all time favorite series of all genres.
Secret Simon. Flat out brilliant! This story has it all(okay there's no sci-fi or apocalyptic end of the world stuff although going after Christopher Manos' family probably won't end well for anyone) romance, mystery, heat, action, friendship, danger, love, family, and it wouldn't be Haven Hart without mayhem and plenty of well . . . heart(see what I did there😉😉).
Lets talk characters. Simon has become as wonderful an adult as he was when we first met him at 8. He may be blood to Christopher but Snow has made a lasting impression on him as well, which will only enhance his future role in the Manos family. Now, in case you haven't read Haven Hart's original 7 book arc, I won't go into too much detail for the I'm-a-spoiler-free-zone kinda gal but I will say there is a very important reason the book is titled Secret Simon. Don't worry, just because I won't spoil anything, the author doesn't leave you up in the air with a hundred questions of "why? what? who? or where?", King makes sure you got a feel for what's going on. As for Rush? He has a future written for him but is it the future he wants to write for himself? Yeah, you know what's coming: you have to read for yourself to find out. Trust me you will enjoy every minute of finding out. Put the two together and the chemistry just screams out at you.
What more can I say? I could say a lot but I'm going to end here or I'm afraid the longer I go on the more chance I'll get loose lipped(or loose fingers) and reveal more than I want. So I will just say this: Secret Simon has reinforced my love of Haven Hart and proven to me that it is an author's universe that belongs on my short list of "Whether they write a 4 paragraph holiday coda or 100 full length novels I'll be first in line to gobble them up". Davidson King once again provides her readers with an unforgettable tale that entertains and captures their attention from beginning to end, further cementing her place in the world as a topnotch storyteller.
RATING:
Always by RJ Scott
Summary:Single Dads #4
Lives change in an instant, but with family found and forever love, there is always hope.
Impetuously putting his life on the line, Adam saved a child trapped in a car wreck and suffered career-ending injuries. Living with chronic pain, and at his lowest moments, he had friends who wouldn't let him give up, a family who had his back, and even though his future was different from what he'd always planned, he at least had hope. When Cameron and Finn land on his doorstep, he never dreamed that he would fall in love with the small family or that maybe he'd get to be a hero again.
Cameron goes from being a devoted husband to a single dad overnight. With his neatly planned future in ruins, he will do anything to make a new life for his son, even if it means moving to the other side of the country. Renting a room from Adam is the first step in making a home for him and Finn, but falling for the former firefighter was never part of the plan.
The shadows from Cameron's past might take a long time to touch this fragile future, but will he have to face the consequences alone when they do? Or will there always be hope?
First, I want to say as I have said in other reviews for this series, to me there is very few things sexier than a man who cares for a child. So right off the bat watching Cameron care for his little boy, Finn, ticks so many wonderful boxes for me. And of course Finn is an absolute dream. Torn between being a kid and this need to protect his dad, I just love him.
Second, for those who know me outside my blog and/or you have followed my Caregiver Month series posts every November will probably remember that my mom has dealt with chronic pain for over 30 years. I mention that because Adam is adjusting and living life with chronic pain so I tend to be overly critical when this subject is touched upon. Not that I need the subject to be spot on, perfect, without hiccups because it is fiction but it's close to my heart and I do need some semblance of accuracy and respect. There was no need for doubt(not that I really had any) when it comes to RJ Scott, I know she does her research. What Adam felt, said, his inner monologues, his communications with friends, it was all so well written and I'm not exaggerating when I say I had tears in my eyes at times, both because I felt for Adam but also for the level of heart and emotion the author put on every page.
Third, the amount of drama from Cameron's past and Adam's new path is so well balanced with the friendship and romance. I won't go into details but trust me, it works perfectly. Both men are dealing with heartache and rebuilding an uncertain future, for different reasons yes but still they individual futures have been turned on their heads. I'm all for doing for yourself but sometimes you need that missing piece to connect the dots, to light the way, to make everything fit, or a thousand other cliches that may get overused but that doesn't mean they aren't on point. Simply put: Cameron and Adam just fit.
One last point about the chronic pain. As I said, it's my mom who lives with chronic pain and though I have no intentions of ever thinking about this in my parents situation😉 I just want to take a minute to say a special thanks to RJ Scott for going the extra mile when Cameron did his research on sex and chronic pain. It's definitely an aspect that those who haven't lived with it, either themselves or watched a loved one, never even give it a second thought, that the physical intimacy side of a relationship can be devastating both physically and emotionally. So again, thank you, RJ Scott for showing there are ways if you do the research and are incredibly patient.
Always is not only worthy of the author's Single Dads series but it's a truly entertaining, heartfelt emotional gem. For those wondering if Single Dads is a series best read in order or series of standalones, they are standalones as each book deals with a different pairing, friendships factor in so previous main characters pop up and as I'm a series-read-in-order kinda gal I'm glad I've read them from the beginning but no it's certainly not necessary, you won't be lost if you pick and choose or start with Always.
RATING:
Lights. Camera. Murder. by CS Poe
Summary:Private investigator Rory Byrne has gained a reputation as someone the elite of New York City can trust to solve their problems quickly and quietly. So when a hotshot television producer hires him to recover a stolen script, Rory will have to go undercover on the set of a historical drama to complete the job. He has his hands full trying to investigate a skeptical crew while they work around the clock on The Bowery, a new show that promises to shake up the television industry. To make a delicate situation more complicated, the production is led by out-and-proud actor Marion Roosevelt, and Rory is downright smitten.
But every member of the cast and crew is a suspect in the theft. And the deeper Rory delves into their on-set personalities, the more suspicious Marion’s behavior becomes. If Rory is to uncover the theft without sacrificing the fate of The Bowery, he will have to trust his identity and his heart to Marion.
Previously featured in the Footsteps in the Dark anthology.
Despite Lights. Camera. Murder. being present day, it has a hint of noir and Hitchcockian feel to it and in my book that is not easy to do. You have a missing script, undercover PI, cast of wacky and wonky characters(and there's more than one that would make a viable murder victim) . . . what more could you want?
So as this is a mystery I won't say too much because I refuse to spoil anything. Rory and Martin are a well matched duo, a PI with only one rule for his personal relationships, don't lie, and an actor with a few possible secrets and his ability to act may add a few layers of "do I trust him" in Rory's mind.
I'll admit I was left guessing the whole time and that's not easy to accomplish. I'm not bragging or being immodest, it's just that mysteries in book, tv, & films are my favorite genre of choice so in my 47 years I've read & seen many plot bunnies play out. So I know when one keeps me stumped right to the reveal I found a winner. Can't wait to see what the author has in store for Rory and Martin down the road.
RATING:
A Carriage of Misjustice by Charlie Cochrane
Summary:Lindenshaw Mysteries #5
Murder doesn't care if you're a newlywed.
Detective Chief Inspector Robin Bright and Deputy Headteacher Adam Matthews have just tied the knot, and all they want to do is sink into blissful domesticity. Unfortunately, there’s no chance of that when a chilling murder at a rugby ground takes Robin miles away to help his old boss solve it.
The mystery seems impossible to crack. Everyone with a motive has an alibi, and those without alibis don’t have a motive. Robin’s determined that this won’t be the case he’s unable to unravel. Not when he’s got his old boss to impress and a new team to lick into shape.
Back at home, Adam joins a fundraising choir to keep himself occupied. Surely a case that’s so far away won’t draw him in this time? Fate has other ideas, though, and danger turns up—quite literally—on his doorstep. He’ll need Campbell the Newfoundland for both company and protection this time around.
It has been over a year since A Carriage of Misjustice was released and I'm sorry to say I just got around to reading it. 2020 really screwed with my reading mojo and 2021 hasn't fared much better but I do appear to possibly be coming out of the haze. Now, I'm the first one to admit, Robin, Adam, and the Lindenshaw Mysteries may not quite reach the level of "OMG!" that the author's Cambridge Fellows Mysteries does but it's a pretty close second. This newest installment is no less brilliant than the previous entries in the series.
Robin and Adam are still just as amazing together, even though truth be told their togetherness is less as Robin is called to take over the lead in a case in another town. Don't think that means Adam doesn't find a way(or perhaps more accurately the way finds him) to be on the fringes at least of his husband's latest case. Whether physically together or not, these newlyweds are just as fun as they've always been. Campbell the dog seems to enjoy his new role as protector now that his other dad is away, even joining in on choir practice occasionally😉.
As for the case, well you know I won't divulge anything here but I will mention how some might think the mystery is a bit overloaded on the suspect list but I like it that way. Sure some might call it convoluted at times with so many suspects but you know what? That just kept me on my toes more and kind of put me more into the story right along with Robin and his fellow coppers trying to weave their way around all the leads. Simply put: sometimes less can be more but this time more is perfect.
Charlie Cochrane has once again proven to me that UK mysteries in all forms are just a little more entertaining with the well balanced levels of mayhem, drama, AND humor. Brilliant on every page. Can't wait to see what shenanigans show up on Robin and Adams' doorstep next.
RATING:
The Case of the Boy in Blue by Amanda Meuwissen
Chapter 1
“Whadda ya mean, there’s already somebody waiting? It’s seven in the morning.”
“Been waiting since six, apparently.” Roxanne shrugs. She wears a little smirk that tells me I have a surprise waiting on the other side of that door that she finds extremely amusing.
Never a good sign.
Seven in the morning is early for most anyone in this town—save maybe me. And Roxanne. Been opening my door by seven sharp since I started this place two years ago, but Roxanne always manages to clock in first. Mark of a good bodyguard, I guess.
Oh, she looks like a dream, like some hot little number secretary too good for a dive like this—an old office building renting out to a dentist down one hall and an ambulance chasing lawyer down the other—but anyone who thinks Roxanne Shaeffer is a common dame is in for a rude awakening.
She just plays the part of secretary, makes people think I have to fend for myself, but I’m not dumb. Anyone working cases on the sly from the crooked cops in this town is bound to grab the attention of the families—and not the ‘home for dinner and have a cocktail’ sort of families. I need protection; Roxanne is it.
Spent five years overseas killing for a cause she doesn’t like to talk about, but she’s willing to kill if she has to in order to protect me for the right fee. She also answers the phones and puts most of the young women and old folks who come to my door at ease with her soft smile and pretty blond hair. It works.
She’s also loyal and a good friend, which means I know there isn’t some hitman with a grudge on the other side of that door, but her smirk could mean far more dangerous things.
“What is it this time?” I ask, ready to pluck the hat from my head but thinking better of it and simply taking off my coat to hang next to Roxanne’s white fur. She always does look good in white. In everything really, like a rose with poisonous thorns.
“Don’t know the case yet, but you’ll like the client. Just your type.” She grins like a shark with an unknowing meal in front of its teeth. Her dress is cinched at the waist today, cap sleeves, low cut, her hair curled perfectly around her face like a Hollywood starlet.
Sometimes my type is what I’m looking at right there in the twist of her red lips, but it isn’t in the cards for us. Besides, she has a lady friend whose company she prefers to any man who tries calling her ‘doll’, just as sultry as she is and twice as deadly. No one sane would ever get in the middle of that.
Unless they are very lucky.
But Roxanne doesn’t mean some knockout is in my office, not this time. “I’ll take your word for it,” I say and eye my door in suspicion before I reach for the knob.
My suit is gray today, vest included, red and silver tie, white shirt, but the hat is black, wrapped in red to match the tie, though a darker contrast. Some would say too dark, with my black trench instead of something tan, like the fashion calls for, but I prefer to blend into the shadows when I can.
The second I walk through the door to my office, I know this ‘client’ is worlds away from me, because he is all light.
“Mr. Quill?” A kid not much older than twenty-five turns around from being seated in the chair facing my desk. He stands with a clumsy scramble, pushing the rounded, gold-framed glasses he wears up the bridge of his nose and smiling in relief to see me.
That smile. It’s dimpled and crinkles his eyes—bright blue—in the most endearing way.
His bowtie is also blue with white polka dots, white crisp shirt, checkered sweater vest, with a uniquely shaped tweed jacket sporting larger, checkered lines like this kid is bisected every which way—and that seems to be the truth when I see the pain pushing through his smile.
He reaches for my hand before I’ve finished entering, before I can remove my hat like I should have outside. I accept it. His hand is warm, and I’d swear a shock shoots up my arm.
“Mr.…?”
“Valentine. Westley Valentine.” He smiles a little wider, shaking my hand with both of his, eager and a little too firm. Then he lets go and rubs both hands together like he’s itching to move, or maybe had a few too many cups of coffee. He didn’t get any here, that’s for sure. Roxanne doesn’t do coffee. Says I make it better. Maybe she’s right. I could certainly use some now.
Westley Valentine. Ginger-haired. Too young. Too wide-eyed. Too hunched and trying to make himself small, maybe because he feels small, but I know he’d be as tall as me if he stood up straight. This bundle of nerves and energy has his full attention on me.
I glance at his hands, which is easy enough since he won’t stop playing with them. No wedding band. How young is he, I wonder? How has this kid survived in a city like ours? Place is vicious, part of why I love it. But a kid like him should have been eaten alive years ago. Yet somehow I can tell he’s local.
“I need your help,” he says, because of course he does, that’s how this worked, and yet, he might as well have said, “I need you,” with the way his chest heaves and he stares at me like I’m his last possible savior.
Finally, I pluck the hat from my short black hair while crossing the room and toss it onto my desk. Young Mr. Valentine follows my movements with more precision than I would have given him credit for—a calculating, analytical mind, like mine. Interesting.
He also flushes bright scarlet when he gets a better look at my face that had been hidden beneath the hat and our eyes meet.
This kid was going to be trouble, I just knew it. “Have a seat, Mr. Valentine. What can I do for you?”
Secret Simon by Davidson King
Prologue
My name is Simon, but you can call me Eight—I’ll explain that later—and this is the story of how my hope for a quiet drama-free college life blew up in my face…all because I fell in love.
Yes, I know, cheesy. But here’s the thing—it really is true. It’s more complex than that, and it wouldn’t be much of a story if it was all, “Met a boy, he was cool, we fell in love, the end.”
Truth is, I chose to go to college five hours from Haven Hart, where I grew up, not because I had a bad childhood or hated my family, but because everyone knew who I was there…Hell, everyone knew who I was for miles and miles from there. If you don’t know why, let me fill you in real fast.
I’m the nephew of the most powerful mob boss in Haven Hart, Christopher Manos. He isn’t your typical mobster, though. I’ve seen the documentaries on Al Capone and Joe Bonanno, and yeah, sure, my uncle killed and isn’t clean in a lot of ways. But he’s also the best man I know. My mom died when I was a baby, and he loved me as a son and raised me as far away from his lifestyle as possible…Or at least, he tried to. No matter how hard he tried, though, there was no way to hide that kind of stuff forever.
As a child I saw a lot of things I shouldn’t have, but when I was eight everything changed. There’s that number again. See, I got bored waiting in a car while my pops’s driver—Pops is what I call my uncle—went into the ice cream shop to get me some rocky road. So, I left the car and wandered around. That wasn’t a good idea, and yet it kinda was.
A couple of guys started hassling me. One was named Roy Sokolov, and he tried to kidnap me. But from the depths of a dark, dank alley came my guardian angel. His name is Snow. He saved me that day, and we saved him too. He and my pops fell in love, and that’s how I found the second-best person in my life. Snow, he calls me Eight—the age I was when he saved me—and because when he asked me what to call me, I wouldn’t give him my name and only my age…I think you get the picture.
After that night, I saw so much more. Years later, my pops and I were actually kidnapped. There was no escaping the life he lived and so, when it came time to go to college, I decided it should be far away in the hopes that no one would know who I was.
Snow suggested I use a different last name, and while it hurt my heart to do it, I knew he was right. There were forgeries made, and abracadabra! I became Simon Mancia.
Thankfully, I got through my first year of college easily. No one knew who I was—at least no one said anything. I dated a few people. Penelope for about six months, but we didn’t click the way a boyfriend and girlfriend should…Instead, she became my best friend. Then there was Raul. He was amazing, but he cheated on me after two months, and yeah…that sucked. I hadn’t been with anyone since. That was, until I saw Him. He was singing karaoke on the green at campus when I returned my second year. It was some welcome-back thing, and he was right there and…Wow.
Penelope told me his name was Rush, and that was all she knew. I decided it would be my mission to find out more and hope beyond hope that he’d take me up on an offer for coffee.
Well, there’s something to be said for falling in love with someone; you will risk it all. I did just that and more.
So, sit back and find out how my finally calm life was turned upside down…all because I fell in love.
Always by RJ Scott
Chapter One
Cam
“He was lucky to get away with seven years,” Jim, my exhausted counsel, and only real friend took a seat opposite me in the small room off the main corridor of the courthouse. I hadn’t been able to afford a lawyer of my own, and when Jim had turned up at my door, telling me he was my court-appointed liaison, I was horrified. I needed better representation, but how would I pay for any of it?
Turned out he was the best thing to happen to me. He’d done everything to keep me from being dragged into the case by the DA who insisted I must know things I wasn’t revealing. Hell, I wish I had known something that would help put my husband behind bars because his actions had put Finn—my son—in danger.
How could I know anything when I’d coasted through the last few years in a daze of uncertainty, lies, and pain?
Finn hiccupped a sob into my neck. I held my son so tight that I hoped he felt safe. He didn’t need to hear anything else about what his other dad had done, or how hard Jim had to fight behind the scenes to exclude paper thin lies created by my husband’s team.
The defense had painted Graeme as a solid family man who’d simply found himself caught up in things he had no control over. They’d been lying. If there was one thing the court case had shown everyone it was that Graeme had had all the control all of the time. Over money, and people.
Over me.
Graeme had been born into a rich family, given more money than he knew what to do with and went on to hold a respected position with a group of investment managers who’d courted him as if he were a king. He was a smooth talker, able to con even the most normal of people. Even me.
Pathetic. Idiotic. Blind. Me.
Falling for Graeme had just been step one in a tragic story. I’d fucked up, and I should never have fallen under Graeme’s spell or allowed him to control me as he had.
I’m a strong, principled man who knows right from wrong. I’m a good dad.
Repeat as needed.
“There’s nothing lucky about what happened to us,” I whispered back, aware that Finn, huddled into my side, could hear everything I said, and some of it I never wanted him to know. Thankfully, Finn hadn’t been in court for the long closing statements, sitting instead in this small room with a kindly court officer who’d played computer games with him and fetched him lunch. I’d been on my own to listen to the defense as they lied to explain away what Graeme had done as trying to please his money-obsessed husband. It was apparently my fault. He loved me too much. He wanted to please me. Me? I’d never wanted a single dime of his money.
I wanted a family, a husband who didn’t fuck about on me, a dad for Finn who cared enough to be at home. I didn’t want money, or maids, or a chef who lived half the week in our house, or private schools and exotic holidays, although that was how I was painted. They argued that the pressure on Graeme was intense, and the defense team cited me wanting Italian marble tiles in a bathroom as the straw that broke the camel’s back. I never said anything about a bathroom, let alone tiles.
The lies were many, and through all of it I could see the way people stared at me, one of them, an angry white-haired man, never took his eyes off me. Simon Frederickson had everything going for him—a newly retired pension fund manager he was expecting a retirement full of good things. But, he’d bet everything on Graeme which was the start of his downfall. He’d been a key witness for the prosecution and had given gut-wrenching testimony about how he’d lost everything, his money, security, family, his entire life—and it had all been Graeme’s fault. Simon had become my touchstone in this whole thing. From watching him I could see the lies that would be believed, and the way the jury was slowly buying into the defense’s rhetoric.
It was somehow all my fault, and the way that the witnesses stared at me, Simon included, showed me what they thought.
I could see the point where every single one of them thought I was getting away with hiding money, living the life, and that I needed to pay as well. My only blessing was that there was not a single shred of evidence to say I was involved.
There wouldn’t be, because I wasn’t part of what Graeme had done, unless my naïveté counted. I just wish I could push the guilt away, because they were right in one way—I should have known. Finn shifted in my hold, but it wasn’t to move away, it was to bury himself even closer and I smoothed my hand on his back.
“What next?” I asked Jim, staring right into his eyes, able to see the very moment where optimism and relief died, replaced with defeat.
“The house is gone,” he said.
“We knew it would be.”
The house was where I’d thought we’d be happy, where I thought I could give Finn the life he deserved, where I’d fallen in love. But now, all I could recall was Graeme in the kitchen holding a knife, a lifeless body next to him, as he held a pity party for one where he blamed everything except himself for cold-blooded murder.
How does a man kill another person and not end up behind bars with a life sentence?
The prosecution had wanted him put away for anything they could find. They’d settled for a plea bargain, in exchange for passwords to a multi-million dollar bitcoin account, and now Graeme was locked away for seven years for the white-collar crime of embezzlement. Seemed to me as if other people’s money had helped him again, and I could feel the weight of everyone staring at me in court.
“There’s no money in any accounts, it’s all gone.”
I nodded. Every cent that was legitimately mine was in my backpack—all five thousand dollars that I’d stashed away over the last six months from helping out on small renovations in my spare time. It wasn’t enough to start over, let alone even rent a place, but it would get us a bus ticket away from here.
He held out his hand, and I managed to shake his without dislodging Finn. “It’s been a pleasure working on your behalf.” He crouched in front of us, his round glasses reflecting my image. “Finn?”
Finn stirred in my arms and finally peeked out of my coat, his dark hair mussed and his eyes red from crying. “Yes, sir?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“You’re the bravest boy I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. You look after your daddy if you can, but also, let your daddy look after you. Pinkie swear?” He held out a pinkie, and Finn didn’t hesitate to offer his as they shook, and then Finn buried himself again. With a smile that softened his normally stern face, Jim patted Finn’s knee before nodding to me. “You know how to reach me if you need any advice.”
“Thank you for all you did, Jim. I don’t know how I can ever thank you.”
“You’re welcome—I’m not bad for court-appointed counsel, right?” His eyes twinkled, and I winced, recalling our first conversation where I’d told him outright that we needed a real lawyer who could look out for me and Finn. He’d been better than any high priced lawyer I could’ve imagined.
“Not bad at all,” I turned the joke back on myself, and we exchanged smiles. He was filing divorce paperwork as a favor, and I knew I’d never be able to pay him back in this lifetime.
“This is for you,” he held out a large envelope, and I took it without hesitation, used to being passed this and that, and long past questioning anything. “It arrived by courier to our office, but it’s addressed to you. Is it something I need to deal with?”
I needed to open it and see, so sitting on the hard bench with my nine-year-old son crying in my arms, I managed to open the envelope, and pulled out a handwritten note. I skimmed to the name at the bottom—Nick. My chest hollowed with pain. Why was Nick writing me notes when I’d told him to stay out of my life? What did Nick have to do with me right now? As far as I was concerned I’d burned any bridges between me and my best friend a long time ago.
“Cam? Are you okay? You look pale. Do I need to get help?”
I shook my head. “It’s from an old friend.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Only when he was gone did I pull the note out again to read it.
Dear Cam,PLEASE READ.I found a place for you to stay. I promise Finn will be safe from the media circus there. All the details are in the other envelope.Don’t be stubborn about this. Don’t run. You don’t even have to see me. Just come home.Nick.
Inside the other smaller envelope were details of someone called Adam Williams, and an address in La Jolla, San Diego, not far from where I’d grown up in Carlsbad in the same neighborhood as Nick.
Nick had started as my childhood nemesis, then become my very best friend, and even my boyfriend for one night, until a kiss had determined that we were better off as brothers than boyfriends. He’d been the one to support me when I’d adopted Finn—I’d asked him to be Finn’s godfather—that was how much he’d been part of my life. I’d been unnecessarily cruel to Nick when he’d called me just after Graeme had been arrested. He’d asked if I wanted help. I’d still thought my husband was some kind of innocent victim, and with hindsight I’d acted in an emotional form of self-defense. The last thing I needed was Nick to say I-told-you-so because he’d never liked Graeme at all.
I’d asked him to leave me alone, irrationally distrustful and harsh. He’d backed off… so why was he contacting me now? Shocked, worried, uncertain about what I was reading, I sat for the longest time, hugging my son, and spiraling back to that last conversation with Nick when I’d told him that he couldn’t understand what I was going through and to leave me and Finn alone.
How could I face him? Was it even possible that San Diego was the right place to stay for a while? Was it time to go home? Finn and I had been living out of suitcases in a cheap motel, sharing a room for so long it had become our normal, we spent most of our time dodging journalists and people hurt by what Graeme had done. At times I feared for our lives.
So, what is keeping me in New York?
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“What do we do now?”
I didn’t have a clue. New York was nothing to us. No friends. Nowhere to live. No money. And, worst of all, the media frenzy around us that wouldn’t abate for a long while. And in the middle of it all, Finn.
“I think we need to head home.”
He stiffened in my hold, and pulled back. “I don’t want to go there. Can’t we go back to the motel?”
We wouldn’t be going back to that motel now, everything we’d left there was going to stay, not that it was much. I’d already put a plan in place for us to slip away, but never with a destination fixed in my mind. I pressed a kiss to his head. “We already talked about this, you don’t have to worry, we’re not staying in New York and we have plans, right?”
“A horse place in Montana with a river.”
“And a new job for me.”
“And I can get a dog.”
I side-hugged him. “Yep, a dog of your own. But we can’t do that straight away, we need to…” hide, avoid the press, lick our wounds. “… just take some time. Back to my old home, California, then it will be you and me against the world, Finn.”
He processed the information with a frown, his eyes red from crying and his hair in tufts where he’d hidden in my hold. Then he wrapped his arms around my neck, tight as he’d done since last June, over a year ago. Everything in his world had been destroyed, he wasn’t going back to the private school. He didn’t have friends here. It was the two of us, starting over.
“You and me against the world, Finn,” I repeated, and felt his tears hot on my skin.
I’m not sure either of our hearts would heal from this.
But we had to try.
Security guided me to the exit, but determined journalists had gathered outside, a whole mess of them waiting, and I hovered inside, hiding Finn behind me. I could see the road to the train station, and if we could just get there then we could make it anywhere.
I crouched in front of Finn, zipped up his coat, pulled up his hood, and clicked the snaps so that the lower half of his face was hidden and the furry hood shielded his eyes. I did the same with my coat, and then I gripped his hand and pointed out of the front window.
“You remember what we’re doing now.”
“Running away,” he said with renewed confidence.
“It’s the last thing we have to do. Just as we planned, okay, we’re heading for McDonald’s. Can you see it?”
Finn nodded, and swiped at the tears on his face with his free hand.
“Don’t let go of me,” I said. “If you get scared I’ll carry you.”
He was nine, small for his age, I could easily carry him, but he pushed his shoulders back and shook his head.
“No carrying.”
“That’s my boy,” I praised, even as my chest tightened.
Then, we opened the door.
“Cam! Where’s the money?”
“Cameron Hastings! Did you agree with the sentencing?”
“Can you give us an interview, Mr. Hastings?”
“Cam! Over here! Over here! Did you lie for your husband?”
“Is your son okay?”
“Cam! Cam! How is it possible that you don’t know where the missing money is?”
It broke my fucking heart that I didn’t know about the money, or where it’d gone, and that I couldn’t give back what Graeme had stolen. It killed me that people had lost everything, and that somehow I was part of the awful loss they’d experienced. If I’d seen what was happening then maybe I could have done something—stopped him. A blanket of despair settled on my shoulders, and for a second I indulged the hopelessness, before shoving it away. I was going to give Finn a new start, and it didn’t matter about the rest of it—Finn had seen too much, and he needed a safe place where he could learn to be a kid again.
“You fucking asshole!” Simon Frederickson was there, eyes sparking with temper, his lips twisted in a snarl, reaching for me and Finn, and yelling in my face. This wasn’t the first time he’d come at me, but this time I had Finn at my side and I moved to protect him.
“Sir!” Security moved in.
Everything inside me snapped, and I reached out to grip Simon’s arm. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. You have to believe me.”
“I have nothing!” he screamed in my face, and next to me Finn buried himself in my side.
“I wish I could help you.”
“I will make you pay, you fucking lying piece of shit.”
“Sir!” Security bundled him off me, my hold on him ripped away, and then with utter determination I shoved through the crowd. Other security attempted to keep the media away but god knows who else was in this crowd who hated us. I couldn’t breathe until we made it through the barrier which trapped the journalists long enough for us to get to the crossing, over the road, and into McDonald’s. The media followed us, I glanced back to see Simon face down on the sidewalk, the cops there, and I wanted to go back and plead with them to take care of him. He had a family—a wife undergoing cancer treatment, two kids with families of their own, and he had no money. He’d been destroyed more than I was.
Please don’t hurt him. I almost went back.
“Dad?” Finn tugged my sleeve, and that dragged me back from compassion to fear in an instant. I had to keep Finn safe. We took the side door, went through a book store, left via the rear exit, hid in a Starbucks for a few minutes, doubled back on ourselves, and finally I felt we might be free from being followed. Cautiously, I headed for the station, Finn holding my hand, blending in with the tourists, and went straight in with a group to find the lockers, opened the one we’d rented the month before and pulled out our bags. Once inside the bathroom I messed up my styled hair, pulling it down to frame my face, then shoved a scarlet NY beanie on, took off my coat and dumped it on the floor, and then set about helping Finn to reverse his two-sided jacket, adding a matching NY beanie. I changed out of my suit into jeans and a jersey, and then, with Finn watching, I hacked away at the beard I’d let grow long, taking it back to smooth skin as much as I could. All I had in the bags was a couple more change of clothes, all the cash I had left in the world, our passports, and as many of Finn’s baby photos as I could fit.
I don’t know what was in Finn’s bag—I’d let him pack it himself, to take reminders of our old life that would see him through enough until we could go home one day and get more.
Home? It’s not our home anymore.
“You remember what to say if anyone talks to us?” I wrapped the suit and coat in a bundle and pushed it into a plastic bag. I’d drop it with one of the homeless guys outside, surely I could do one more good thing before we vanished.
Finn blinked up at me, his eyes full of tears, but his shoulders were back and determination was written in every line of him. My little man was so brave, even after everything I’d allowed to happen. “I remember. I have to say we’re going to visit family, and I can’t talk to anyone about anything else. Oh, and my name is Finn Bellamy, not Finn Hastings anymore.” He worried at the zipper on his coat and I knew he had something else he wanted to say. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Will people ever stop hating you?”
I thought of all the people searching for someone to blame and turning their gazes on Finn and me. They were right to accuse me of being naïve, they could harass me and call me every name under the sun, but they weren’t touching Finn. I just knew they weren’t going to stop for a long time.
“They will do one day, I’m sure,” I lied, and then patted his head. “Ready for an adventure?”
“I don’t know, Dad, I’m scared.”
My heart cracked and I cradled his face, staring into his dark eyes and wondering what was the best thing to say. I couldn’t exactly say I would never let anything happen to him because I had so let him down, and I couldn’t promise him that everything was going to be okay, because I didn’t know that. So I went with what Finn’s counselor had said—that honesty was the only way to go.
“I’m scared as well.”
His eyes widened, and he grabbed at me. “You are?”
“How about we both pretend we’re not scared, and get on a bus or a train and head away from here?”
He tugged me close for a hug, almost unbalancing me.
“Okay, Dad.”
I hugged him, then bopped his nose and smiled, waiting until he gave me a returning smile, and only after he did was I ready to leave the confines of the bathroom to find a seat on a train or a bus heading anywhere. For better or worse, we had a destination now—San Diego.
One day Finn and I might return to a life in New York, after all it was a big city, but there was something so warm when I thought of heading west to the place I’d been born. All I had in New York was a shit-ton of miserable memories, and a marriage that had gone to hell, catching Finn in its destructive force. I was happy to leave.
We headed out and tried to lose ourselves again, and it was only when we were on the train that I could even think of relaxing a little.
“Hi, is this seat free?” I looked up and all I saw was white hair. My mind made the connection to Simon Frederickson and fear gripped me. My heart raced, but it was just a random guy looking for a seat, that was all. I was losing my shit—seeing phantoms.
“Yeah, sure.”
The man smiled, then sat down and immediately put in ear buds before closing his eyes. Thank goodness he didn’t want to sit and chat because that was the last thing I needed right now.
I just needed time to think. Finn and I could hide out together for a few months, just while I planned a fresh start and got my head straight. Simon wouldn’t know where we were, nor would others like him whom Graeme had wronged. Neither would the media, or the senders of the hate mail that arrived every day, not for a while at least. I hoped we could be anonymous, to give ourselves time.
“Let’s get this adventure started.”
Lights. Camera. Murder. by CS Poe
GET BENT, DIPSHIT
The love note was scrawled across my grocery list on the refrigerator door. Which was fine. I preferred keeping all my reminders in a central location. Now I knew I needed to pick up milk, sugar, bread, and a new boyfriend.
My cell rang as I splashed some cream into my coffee. I pushed my tortoiseshell glasses up my nose and turned to pick up the phone from the counter behind me.
Caller ID: Nate.
Shocker.
I pressed Accept and put the phone to my ear. “Good morning, sunshine. I got your message.”
“You’re a sonofabitch, Rory!”
“I’ve been called worse things by better people.”
Nate’s audible gasp allowed me enough time to indulge in that first sip of morning coffee. “Only an asshole breaks up over text message,” he accused.
I winced at his shrill tone, pulled the phone away from my ear, set it to speaker, and put it back on the countertop. “I only have one rule, Nate.”
“Screw your rule.”
“And you broke it,” I continued without missing a beat.
“Maybe if you were a contributing member in our relationship, I wouldn’t have had to find someone else to fuck me senseless.”
I stared at the phone and messed my already disheveled hair with one hand. “I told you when we started dating just how much I worked.”
“And?”
“And if you need it day and night, I’m probably not the most suitable candidate in the dating pool.”
Nate let out a frustrated growl and then shouted loud enough to cause mic distortion, “Can you pretend like you give a damn right now?”
“It’s not worth my energy. You swore to never lie, and I caught you in one.” I took another sip of coffee while he sputtered and hissed. “Oh. I’d like my extra key back.” I gave the note on the fridge a second glance.
“Burn in hell, Rory.”
“Have a good life, Nate.”
“Hey, while we’re at it—I fucked your coworker too!” he screamed.
“Yeah, I know. Bye-bye.” I hit End, promptly deleted Nate’s contact information from my phone, and walked out of the kitchen.
A Carriage of Misjustice by Charlie Cochrane
Chapter 1
Adam Matthews turned his left hand so that his ring caught the light. It was an elegant piece of metalwork, Welsh gold in a chunky, slightly squared-off design, exactly the same as the ring on Robin Bright’s hand. They’d not deliberately chosen an identical pattern for romantic reasons: that was simply how it had worked out. They’d both studied the jeweller’s brochure, both written a list of three favourite choices in order of preference, put the lists into sealed envelopes . . . and opened them to find they’d picked the same one in pole position, with remarkably similar ones in second and third place.
Great minds think alike and all that.
“Are you still admiring your wedding ring?” Robin said, from over the other side of the lounge, where he and Campbell the Newfoundland were having some bonding time. Nothing better than watching the Sunday lunchtime game on the telly, especially when it featured Liverpool against Spurs. Campbell in particular seemed besotted with Harry Kane.
“I’ll never stop admiring it. Even the kids in my class think it’s cool, and they’re hard to please.” Adam took another glance at the ring, then picked up the Sunday paper to flick through the sports pages. He wasn’t really reading, though—it was more of a prop to cover the inane grin that was about to break out all over his face and for which Robin would take the micky out of him. A grin he couldn’t help producing every time he thought about it. The fact that they’d gone and tied the knot at last.
What a day it had been: a small civil ceremony out at a local upmarket pub, the Sporting Chance, with only close family and friends, their mothers wearing enormous hats and looking stunning. But the star of the day had been Campbell, outdoing everyone in terms of style with a white bow tie around his neck and stealing the show as he trotted up the aisle with the rings in a bag—waterproof to avoid the slobber—in his canine jaws. He’d dropped them at Adam’s feet, then returned to sit on a blanket at the back of the room with nonchalant ease, as though this were the sort of thing he did every day. His presence had proved to be a bonus, because when the guests were fussing over the dog, they’d been leaving the groom and groom in peace.
The newlyweds hadn’t gone off on honeymoon, given that Adam couldn’t have got away during term time, so they were saving their leave for a proper holiday later in the year. So just a celebration that weekend, then straight back to school for Adam and the nick for Robin, on Monday morning.
That had caused comment at both workplaces—as had the fact they’d opted for a small, restrained ceremony rather than the big lavish do some people had expected. They’d made it clear that they’d been making a stand against the commercialisation of weddings, believing that so long as there was a ceremony, a photographer, a good meal, and a bit of a knees-up, all boxes had been ticked. Anybody who’d suggested they were being tight wads had got subtly reminded that they’d made sizeable charity donations in the names of those who hadn’t been invited.
Now, they’d been an officially linked couple for all of a week and the sensation still felt as shiny and new as it had the previous weekend.
“I could do with a few weeks to recover from all the excitement. Wha-at?” Robin paused, frowning. “Why are you making that stop it gesture? What’s the problem?”
“Don’t say anything about time to recover. Don’t tempt fate into arranging a surprise Ofsted inspection for me or a cold-case murder that rears its head again and means weeks of you working all hours God sends.” Adam touched the wooden table. He wasn’t really superstitious, but sometimes you were trying to appease your own conscience as much as some nebulous source of fortune, good or bad. Like wearing lucky socks to play sport: your brain tells you it made no difference but your heart won’t believe it.
“Okay. Do you want me to wish that a horrible case drops in my lap on the principle that it’ll ensure life’s nice and quiet?”
Adam grinned. “Don’t say anything. Put your mind to whether we want to have a religious ceremony to go with the civil one.”
“That’s trickier than solving a murder case.”
Both were regular if occasional churchgoers, and both would say they had a degree of faith, although they didn’t make a big thing of it. And both appreciated that only certain parts of the Christian communion wouldn’t turn their noses up at the union between two people of the same gender.
“Would Neil do us a blessing, do you think?” The vicar was pretty broad-minded and he’d never shown any disapproval towards Robin or Adam.
“Privately, maybe. If we asked for something small—smaller than even the wedding was—and maybe not in the church itself. I don’t think he’s got a problem with homosexuals but there are a few folk on the PCC who’d throw their toys out of their prams if they knew we were standing in front of the altar at St. Crispin’s making vows in the presence of God.”
“And the fear of the congregation?” Robin said, which was an old joke if still a relevant one even now.
“Some of them, but that’s inevitable. You know who I’m thinking of.” Like any parish, Lindenshaw had its share of people who would prefer it if there were no women priests, the only prayer book used was the one published in 1662, and everyone lived by the parts of the Levitican law that didn’t apply to them but stopped everyone else having fun. “I remember a few folk getting the hump on when Neil first arrived here and made them share the peace at the ten o’clock communion. They couldn’t have been more outraged if he’d taken the service in drag.”
Robin made the kind of face he produced when he had to clear up after Campbell had relieved himself in the garden. “Sounds like they’re due to be outraged again, then. Shall we make an appointment to see Neil?”
“Works for me. Although he probably can’t do anything till late spring. Lent coming up, and I’ve a feeling the church doesn’t do weddings then. I guess a blessing would come under that umbrella.”
“Our mothers would welcome deferring the event for a while. It would mean they can get new summer hats to go with the winter ones they wore last weekend.” The local milliner must have made a small fortune out of the Matthews and Bright womenfolk.
“Right. Before we start planning any of that, we have work to do this afternoon. Our good deed for the day.”
“So we have.”
The cottage three doors down was owned by a fiercely independent lady in her seventies, whom they’d told that if she ever needed anything done round the house or garden that didn’t need technical skill, just a touch of brawn, she shouldn’t hesitate to call on them. It would have to be serious for her to call in that offer, and the loss of three fence panels in a storm two days previously came into that category. They’d take Campbell—Mrs. Haig doted on him—and the pair could supervise Adam and Robin while they repaired the old panels and shifted them back into place. The fact that Mrs. Haig’s boiled fruit cake was legendary turned an act of kindness into a positive pleasure.
They got into their working clothes and set off.
An hour, a cup of tea, and a large slab of cake later, the old panels were out and the new ones ready to be installed.
“You’re doing a grand job, there,” Mrs. Haig said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“It’s a pleasure. Better than marking books or catching criminals.” Adam gave his husband a wink. “Neither of us take enough exercise.”
“I used to watch you running with Campbell.” She scratched the dog’s ear. “I suppose you’re too busy for that these days.”
“You’re right. We tend to take him for a walk together, don’t we?”
“Yes,” Robin replied. “It makes sure we spend time together too.” They had no need to hide their relationship from their hostess. Her brother was gay, a stalwart of musical chorus lines in London.
“You could join the church choir,” she suggested. “They always need tenors.”
“I’d love to, but I’d always be ringing Martin up to say I couldn’t make the practices. Armed robbery to sort out or whatever.”
Adam hid his grin in his teacup. The choirmaster fancied Robin and barely hid it.
“Yes, I suppose so.” Mrs. Haig frowned. “You work too hard, the pair of you. And here’s me eating into your weekend.”
Adam shook his head. “This isn’t work, it’s play.” And the sight of Robin in an old T-shirt, muscles rippling and working up a sweat was a sight to enjoy. Adam gave him an affectionate glance, which was immediately returned.
“These panels won’t install themselves,” Robin said hastily, perhaps with half a mind on some less strenuous but highly enjoyable activity that could go on later, assuming they weren’t too tired.
An hour later, they were home, tired but happy. Adam cleaned himself up while Robin brushed residual crumbs off the dog, then he could head into the shower while Adam had a well-earned sit-down. As he was getting dressed, Adam thought he heard Robin talking on the phone. Please God it was only Mrs. Bright touching base rather than work calling the bloke in. The fact that Robin wasn’t leaping up the stairs apologising and changing out of his old clothes so he could report for duty had to be a good sign, surely?
“What’s up?” Adam called over the banister, heart sinking when Robin entered the hallway. “Anyone would think you’d lost a tenner and found five pence.”
“Not quite. Not an ideal situation, though.” Robin weighed the phone in his hand like it was a piece of ordnance he’d like to chuck as far away as possible.
“That’s what Brits say when it’s the end of the world.”
Robin grinned. “It’s not as bad as that. I have to go off on secondment, as of tomorrow. Hopefully it’ll be a short one, but you can’t tell with murder. Or with peritonitis.”
Adam made a that’s gone right over my head gesture. “I’m sure that’s supposed to make sense, but you’ve lost me. Secondment to where?”
“Hartwood. It’s a town between Oxford and Birmingham, east of the M40. There was a murder there about ten days ago. Don’t know if you saw the story—bloke found dead in the loos at a rugby club.”
“I was a bit preoccupied last week, if you remember, but yes, I did see the story on the BBC site. Why can’t the local police handle it? Test Valley or East Midlands or whoever covers the area?”
“That’s a long story. Can I come and clean myself up and then I’ll tell you everything?”
“Might be an idea. You’re slightly fragrant.” Adam forced a smile. Going on a secondment? They really shouldn’t have tempted fate.
While Robin showered, Adam pottered about in the kitchen. He always found that a calming place, somewhere he could think clearly. No doubt that was associated with the house having originally been owned by his grandparents: many happy hours he’d spent there as a child, helping his granny to make the Christmas pudding on stir-up Sunday or learning firsthand the way to make a perfect Yorkshire pudding.
As he transferred from fridge to oven a defrosted casserole—courtesy of their domestic help, Sandra, who’d insisted on stocking the freezer when they’d been knee-deep in wedding preparations—Adam cast his mind back to the news story, but nothing much had registered about it. Still, it was easy enough to refresh his memory by researching the story on his phone. By the time he’d followed a few links, he’d built up a reasonable picture. Hartwood Wasps Rugby Club had used to be exclusively for gay and bi guys, but had decided to welcome everyone, initially because they’d had a bit of a crisis in terms of player numbers. They’d been so successful that they’d carried on with the strategy and were now heading up the leagues, making a tongue-in-cheek thing about their equality policy ensuring that straight players didn’t get given a hard time.
The Wednesday before last, a bloke called Nick Osment had been found dead in the changing room in the clubhouse, and so far the police had shown no signs of making an arrest. Plenty of appeals for help, though, and some noncommittal statements about following a number of leads.
Had they hit a brick wall so early in the investigation and needed a fresh pair of eyes? Robin had built up his experience of murder cases over the last few years, and he’d been a hundred percent successful on leading his team to finding the culprit, but surely he wasn’t the most experienced officer they could call on if a case had stalled? Or was there another reason, given the history of the club, that the local force had picked on this particular officer?
“This secondment,” Adam asked, as soon as Robin appeared, “they’ve not called you in because you’re gay? Rainbow rugby and all that.”
Robin shrugged. “On the surface, no. They needed to call somebody in, though—right bloody mess up at the local station—and I used to work with the detective superintendent there when I was a snotty sergeant and she was my inspector. Rukshana Betteridge. I’ve mentioned her.”
“You have.” They’d also discussed the fact that some people muttered behind her back that she’d only been fast-tracked because she was a woman, and mixed race to boot, but Robin wasn’t having that. She was simply a better copper than most of the blokes she worked alongside, and he’d learned a hell of a lot from her. “I particularly remember a story about you, her, and the nuclear-strength chicken vindaloo. Three hours on and off the loo, was it?”
“I was hoping you’d have forgotten that.” Robin gave Campbell a pat. “Your dads can’t get away with any misdemeanours, can they? Cowdrey rang me, and he says Detective Superintendent Betteridge—I’ll never be able to call her Rukshana to her face—got in touch and pleaded to have me help out. I’m hoping it’s my skills as a copper and my track record with solving murders that was the key thing, rather than who I bed.”
Adam nodded. He’d already got out and opened a couple of bottles of beer: Robin looked as though he could do with one. “So, what’s this right bloody mess you’ve got lumped with sorting out?”
“The detective inspector who reports to her, Robertson. His appendix went haywire back end of last week, and he’s developed peritonitis on top of appendicitis. They’ve operated successfully, but he won’t return to work anytime soon, no matter how much he wants to be. This bloke was running the investigation, and there’s nobody local to take his place. Even his sergeant’s been working nonstop on an abuse case.”
“Bloody mess is no exaggeration, then.”
“Yep.” Robin scratched Campbell’s head distractedly. “Cowdrey says it’ll be great for my career, but he also understands it won’t be easy, hard on the heels of last weekend.”
“I should have applied to the school for unpaid leave. We could have headed off to the back of beyond, in which case they couldn’t have got hold of us.” Adam put his arm around Robin’s shoulders and held him close. “It’ll work. We’ll make it work.”
Robin nuzzled into Adam’s chest. “Yeah, I know. I really wish I didn’t have to, but Betteridge was a good friend to me, and I feel I owe her. And there’s some poor dead sod who deserves justice.”
“Don’t apologise. Just catch the bloody killer quickly so you can get back here. This is not the sort of honeymoon I imagined having.” Adam chuckled, gave him a kiss, then had to pretend to give Campbell one too, as the dog was clearly feeling left out.
“I could tell Cowdrey to stick it. Politely, of course, because I’m neither that brave nor that stupid. He told me to take an hour to think it over.” Robin glanced at his watch. “I’ve still time to decide.”
“Hey, I was only kidding about the honeymoon. You go. It’s not like I’m some blushing bride and we only had our first night together once you’d put a ring on it. As far as I’m concerned, the honeymoon started ages ago and it’s never stopped.” Adam gave him a lingering kiss. “It would be worse if I’d fallen for a soldier.”
“You soft bugger. I’ll get onto Cowdrey right now, and put him out of his misery. He’ll be grateful, as will Betteridge.”
“Anything I can do to help, let me know. When does he want you to travel?”
“Tomorrow, preferably.” Robin grimaced. “I’m glad Sandra got all the washing and ironing up-to-date. I need to get rummaging in the airing cupboard and get a suitcase packed. There are other phone calls I should make too.”
“Make one to your mum and another to Pru. Subcontract all other communication to them.” Mrs. Bright and Robin’s favourite sergeant would be able to handle any task set. In fact, the maternal information network would ensure the news would be halfway across the county within thirty minutes of Mrs. Bright being told. Adam wondered if she stood on her roof using semaphore flags or an Aldis lamp, depending on the time of day.
“The first would work, but Pru’s likely to be too busy. Cowdrey said he’d like her to go with me. DS Betteridge wants me to have an officer I’m used to working with on my team, and it’ll be good experience for her.” Robin was clearly warming to the positive aspects of this assignment. “I’m sure that if I give young Ben a call instead, he can pass on the news to the team. He always hints he wants extra responsibility.”
“Will you still be calling him young Ben in twenty years' time, when he’s in his forties and losing his hair?” Adam snorted. “Maybe then he’ll regard you like you regard Betteridge.”
“If he does, I’ll be pleased.” Robin returned the kiss, grabbed his phone, and went to call Cowdrey.
The casserole wouldn’t be ready for a while, so Adam nipped upstairs to get Robin’s clothes out of the airing cupboard; he laid them out on the bed, trying to be helpful and also gathering his thoughts.
It had to be a good opportunity for both Robin and Pru in terms of career development. Showing their willingness to help out even if it meant personal inconvenience, the chance of working with a new team and a new area, and maybe learning things they could bring back and apply in Abbotston. Adam felt a swell of pride at the confidence Robin’s old boss clearly felt in her protégé, whatever other considerations might have come into play. Adam wasn’t going to get sidetracked into thinking about whether this might herald a move to Hartwood itself, with Betteridge taking Robin back under her wing in a police variation on the January football transfer window. Robin would certainly enjoy working with her again. He’d never expressed anything but praise for her and the way she’d fought her corner firmly but politely at so many turns.
Adam would have loved to have been a fly on the wall the day when she’d charmingly pulled up a young sergeant who’d referred to her having had an attack of feminine intuition with the words, “If a bloke made a leap of reasoning like that, you’d call it a hunch, so that’s what we’ll call it in my case, eh?”
Heavy pawsteps on the stairs, accompanied by snuffling, heralded the arrival of Campbell, who wasn’t usually allowed upstairs except on special occasions, of which this had to be one.
“Come to make sure I’m laying out everything your other dad needs? He doesn’t want that, thank you.” Adam wrested a small stuffed toy—albeit not horribly slobbery—out of the Newfoundland’s jaws. “I’ll get him to FaceTime you every day so you’ll know he’s safe.”
What would his colleagues say if they saw him having an earnest conversation with a dog? The children wouldn’t bat an eyelid, naturally. They’d understand such things were important.
“We’ll both miss him, only don’t let on too much, eh? I don’t want him giving up the chance simply to stop us being upset.”
Campbell glanced up, big brown eyes full of what might be interpreted as understanding, then nuzzled his nose into Adam’s hand. It was going to be just the two of them again for the next few weeks, and they’d need to take care of each other. Although there was a plus side to the situation: the murder having taken place so far away, the investigation of it really couldn’t draw him or Campbell in this time. Could it?
Adam stretched over to touch the wooden bedside table, aware they’d tempted fate already that afternoon.
Amanda Meuwissen is a bisexual and happily married geek. Primarily an M/M romance author with a focus on urban fantasy, she has a Bachelor of Arts in a personally designed Creative Writing major from St. Olaf College and is an avid consumer of fiction through film, prose, and video games. Amanda lives in Minneapolis, MN, with her husband, John, and their cat, Helga.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
When she's not writing you can find her blogging away on Diverse Reader, her review and promotional site. She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she'd tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you're afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
C.S. Poe is a Lambda Literary and two-time EPIC award finalist, and a FAPA award-winning author of gay mystery, romance, and speculative fiction.
She resides in New York City, but has also called Key West and Ibaraki, Japan, home in the past. She has an affinity for all things cute and colorful and a major weakness for toys. C.S. is an avid fan of coffee, reading, and cats. She’s rescued two cats—Milo and Kasper do their best to distract her from work on a daily basis.
C.S. is an alumna of the School of Visual Arts.
Her debut novel, The Mystery of Nevermore, was published 2016.
As Charlie Cochrane couldn't be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice - like managing a rugby team - she writes. Her favourite genre is gay fiction, predominantly historical romances/mysteries, but she's making an increasing number of forays into the modern day. She's even been known to write about gay werewolves - albeit highly respectable ones.
Her Cambridge Fellows series of Edwardian romantic mysteries were instrumental in seeing her named Speak Its Name Author of the Year 2009. She’s a member of both the Romantic Novelists’ Association and International Thriller Writers Inc.
Amanda Meuwissen
WEBSITE / NEWSLETTER / KOBO / B&N
iTUNES / GOOGLE PLAY / AUDIBLE
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
CS Poe
FB GROUP / GOOGLE PLAY / B&N
KOBO / PAYHIP / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: contact@cspoe.com
Charlie Cochrane
EMAIL: cochrane.charlie2@googlemail.com
The Case of the Boy in Blue by Amanda Meuwissen
Lights. Camera. Murder. by CS Poe
A Carriage of Misjutice by Charlie Cochrane
