Apr. 14th, 2017

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This must be spring as the blossom is out, as are the bluebells, but the weather has turned distinctly autumnal. Ah, what would be Brits have to talk about if it wasn’t for our four-seasons-in-one-day climate?


The were-sloths have landed for newsletter subscribers. I’ve updated the story slightly from its original incarnation; it made me realise nothing dates a story quite so much as contemporary references. And I've added a postscript about the boys. I'll put them on my website in a fortnight.

There’s a new review of Wild Bells over at Love Bytes. Always good when someone enjoys your writing.

The third Lindenshaw mystery (working title “Two Feet Under”) is “go”. Just waiting for the release date to be finalised and I’ll share that here. Here’s an unedited snippet:

Adam put his mug on the table. Might as well take advantage of the offer because who knew when they’d get the chance again? Murders meant long hours, late nights, and knackered policemen whose thoughts were too tired to get into their pants. He leaned in for a smacker of a kiss.

“That was good. For starters.” Robin’s lascivious grin could have turned the iciest libido to butter. “What about—”

Once more Robin’s phone interrupted them just as things were getting interesting.

“Sorry,” he said, picking the thing up off the table.

“I told you to stop saying that.” Adam forced a grin, knowing that a second call so hard on the heels of the first couldn’t be good news and surely meant a return to the station.

“Oh, hi.” Robin halted halfway to the door. “How’s life?” Not the station, by the sound of it. “Yes, if we can. Depends what it is.” Robin mouthed what looked like the name “Anderson”. Hopefully this was just a social call from his old sergeant that could soon be dealt with, letting them get back to the matter in hand.

“Bloody hell!” Robin sat down heavily in the armchair. “When? Why?”

Adam, infuriated at only hearing half the conversation, helped himself to a consolatory biscuit. The worried expression on Robin’s face, and the way he’d settled into his chair suggested he was in for the long haul. As it turned out, the call was surprisingly short, with Robin saying, “Okay, I think that’ll be alright, so long as it’s short term,” then making a helpless gesture at Adam.

“What the hell’s going on?” Adam mouthed, but his partner simply gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes. Things had to be bad.

“I guess you got that was Anderson,” Robin said as the call ended.

“Yeah. Sounded ominous, whatever it was.”

“It is. Helen’s chucked him out.”

And finally, a snap from Cochrane Towers to prove that it must really be spring!



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