Blood and Broomsticks (ebook)

Argumento de Blood and Broomsticks (ebook)

An old friend of Honey Driver's is unfortunate enough to have their birthday at Hallowe?en, and can't resist making it a fancy dress party. Honey had planned for DCI Doherty, her policeman boyfriend, to go with her; he might have done if he wasn?t more than a bit peeved that she smashed up his sports car.

Dressed appropriately, Honey attends the party at Moss End Hotel alone. The food is awful, the booze practically non-existent, and the complaints are loud and clear. The owners, Mr and Mrs Crook ? amateurs who think themselves better than the professionals ? are nowhere to be found and all the doors are locked. Once the revellers manage to open the doors, the Crooks are found, but are in no condition to deal with complaints. They're dead ? murdered ? and Honey and Doherty team up once more to investigate.

'The kick-off to Goodhind's new mystery series - fast moving with a likeable
heroine and an impeccably rendered Bath background...'
Kirkus Reviews
(USA) on Something in the Blood

'Quirky characters and intriguing goings-on in my favourite city, Bath. J G
Goodhind's wonderful books are crying out to be made into a TV series. An
absolute treat!'
Jill Mansell on Walking with Ghosts.

There it goes.

Nobodys there, postman.

He knew who it would be even before she spoke. Mrs Hicks lived in one of the cottages across the road, a place as old as this one though nowhere near as large.

She was using her whole body to keep the strong spring of the gate from closing, both hands firmly grasping her walking stick. Bright blue eyes sparkled in a face creased with the pain of arthritis. Gavin conceded it must have taken some effort for her to cross the road.

Peregrine, a grey cat with orange eyes, curled his tail and whole body around her ankles. The cat followed her everywhere.

How are you, Mrs Hicks?

My usual self. Old age isnt for wimps, you know.

Gavin grinned. Years in you yet, Mrs Hicks. Years in you yet.

She chuckled and her eyes twinkled with pleasure.

Gavin stooped down and tickled the cat behind its ears. And how are you, Peregrine, me old mate?

The cat purred with pleasure.

The postman jerked his head sideways in the direction of the big old edifice opposite. Nobody in again.

You could wait for them at my place. Just in case they appear, she said, her face shining in the hope that he had some time to spare. And if they dont appear well you can do what you usually do.

Gavin smiled. Except for the cat, the old dear lived alone. Most of the residents of Northend were commuters, so she didnt get much company not in the day anyway. Probably not at night either, seeing as most people would just come home and collapse in a chair with a gin and tonic, or saunter up to the Northend Inn for a bit of banter and beer with the landlord or some bell-pulling at the church. Funny how townsfolk took to village pursuits that the real locals had no time for.

How about a nice cup of tea? urged a beaming Mrs Hicks.

Thirsting for a cuppa, he glanced at his watch. I spose I could for a while, but only if youve got a cup of tea and a biscuit.

Kettles already boiled.

Mrs Hicks, the cat, and the postman trailed off in single file across the road.

Once the tea and biscuits were inside him, he asked her if she wouldnt mind signing for the parcel and giving it to the new owners of the old place across the road when she saw them.

Not at all. Anyway, its time I introduced myself, she replied, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of somebody to talk to.

You mean you havent yet introduced yourself to the new owners of the old place? Thats not like you, Mrs Hicks, party-going little raver that you are!

The old lady tittered at his teasing. She always did, loving it when she had to take in a parcel for one of the neighbours. Gavin usually gave delivering a parcel three tries before leaving it with someone usually Mrs Hicks. So far not one complaint of non-delivery.

He got her to sign the electronic device that recorded signatures on its dull grey screen.

Ill just fetch my specs.

Now youre sure its no trouble?

None at all, she said, with a shake of her silvery head. Anyway, youll never catch them during the day. Ive never seen them during the day, though I know theyre in after dark. Ive seen the lights go on. Dont think they get many paying guests though. Strange that. Miss Porter used to do quite well.

Gavin thanked her profusely and went on his merry way, his head full of tunes from his iPod and his thoughts with his live-in girlfriend, Rita, who he was considering making his wife.

When he looked back at Mrs Hicks cottage, the orange-eyed cat was sitting on a stone pillar to one side of the gate. It stared at him all the way across the road. Once he was safely seated behind the steering wheel, it appeared to lose interest. Washing one fat paw called for serious attention.

The following week he called in at Mrs Hicks, meaning to tell her the good news that Rita had accepted his proposal of marriage. The old girl was an incurable romantic and had asked him to keep her informed.

There was no answer. Peering through the windows he saw no glow from the old Parkray she used to heat her house. OK, it wasnt that cold at the moment, but she was getting on a bit and kept it burning all year round, though low so she didnt get through too much coal. Neither did he espy the gleam of an electric light which he knew she needed if she was reading, which she did quite a lot. She liked reading The Peoples Friend which he picked up for her when it was due from the newsagents down on the main road that dissected Northend from the rest of Batheaston.

More worryingly he couldnt see any sign of Peregrine either. Either she was in hospital or perhaps a relative had suddenly remembered her and taken her on holiday. Not likely though. She never saw her relatives, although he knew she did have some. And she wouldnt go away without making arrangements for the cat. If she was away it had to be in a cattery.

He looked around the front garden for any sign of the cat. Nothing doing. On the off chance that the cat was in the back garden, he took the path at the side of the house. A wooden door set in a rickety wooden frame divided the front garden from the rear. Hed never been through it before. He knocked on the mossy green wood just in case Mrs Hicks was round the back doing a bit of weeding or hanging out her washing.

The gate hung loosely on its rusty hinges and scraped the flagstone path as he pushed it open. There was nobody in the garden, just a small shed and a dustbin. A broom, the sort made of willow twigs and used for sweeping up leaves, was propped up behind it.

No sign of Peregrine.

Being an upright chap, hed done his duty checking that she was all right. But she wasnt there so he couldnt, but never mind. Someone in the village would enlighten him as to where she was. The worst case scenario that she might have passed away, saddened him. Still shed had a good innings, he thought, then laughed at the saying. Nobody he knew played cricket nowadays. How about saying that shed shook it up well on the dance floor. Dancing would be far more likely than cricket. But then, somebody in the village would have told him if shed snuffed it. And the cat wasnt around. That fact above all else was the crucial one; where Mrs Hicks went the cat went too.

He paused before getting back into his van to cast a look across the road at Moss End Cottage Hotel. The wall surrounding it was so high that only the upper floor windows could be viewed, the ground floor hidden behind the high wall and the filled in gate.

No lights showed in the upper windows either and although hed put some letters in the letterbox today, thered been no sign of anyone being at home. He wondered whether they were taking paying guests yet. It didnt seem like it given the vacant look of the windows, doing nothing but reflecting the cottages with which it was surrounded.

Ive not seen a soul there yet and according to Mrs Hicks shes not seen any sign of life during the daytime, he said to Rita when he got home. The old lady said she only saw a light go on at night.

Like vampires, said Rita. I expect the new owners are vampires and they sleep in coffins down in the cellar during the day, and only come out at night.

Gavin guffawed and put his arms round her. Dont be so bloody ridiculous! Now give us a kiss, but gently now. Dont draw blood.

'Sometimes it is the location alone makes you curious about a detective novel....Jean G Goodhind in her debut novel has added much more than that - a droll plot and a lot of British humour...'0