At long last, I can say more about the upcoming Devonshire Mystery.

Today, I’m sharing the first part of chapter 1. This is just between us, so you’ll need to be a member of the site and logged in to read it.

The photo on this post is from the location in which the scene is set, so I hope it helps to give the flavour.

To read the snippet in full, please join the site – it’s free, easy and fun to do.

This is an advance snippet, so it’s still a work in progress and probably contains errors and typos. There will be changes and corrections over the coming days, and I hope to share more as I tackle the rewrites.

Accomplice to Murder

Sample from Chapter 1

Dan Corrigan adjusted his tie without breaking his stride as he advanced on his destination. Tucked away discreetly behind Exeter Cathedral, Southernhay West was stirring into the type of early morning life found in cities all over the world. Smartly dressed people climbed from their cars and bustled toward their places of work. Vans and taxis vied to be the first away from the traffic lights, and colourfully clad cyclists pedalled past, their backpacks bulging. No doubt they’d be carrying a change of clothes for the office, a pair of smart shoes and a laptop too. Dan had his own small backpack slung over his shoulder, although in his case, the situation was reversed. He’d brought his sports kit in case he fancied a run after work, and he felt a certain kinship with his fellow travellers. With every stride, every urgent turn of the pedals, they proclaimed a sense of purpose. They weren’t here for the shops or the scenery; they were here to work.

A bus trundled by, belching exhaust fumes, and Dan smiled. This was more like it. A sense of energy and purpose buzzed all around him. Everyone was going somewhere, and none of them wanted to be late.

That includes me, Dan thought. But I’ve got plenty of time. Dan had been in Exeter for quite a while already, although his appointment wasn’t for another half an hour. He’d parked down by the quay, and he’d spent the time walking through the city, limbering up. And while he’d pounded the streets, he’d felt his senses becoming heightened, his mind growing sharper.

It’s good to be taking on some real work, he told himself. I’m back. But there was something different about his latest foray into the world of work. He wasn’t stepping into his old life. Not quite. There was none of the stress, the underlying anxiety that had driven him to compete until he’d burned himself out.

This time, he felt in control. He was independent, a freelance business intelligence consultant. It had taken him almost a year to get this far; a year of taking on small jobs with firms that could hardly afford to pay him properly; a year of hunkering down in cramped offices, drinking bad coffee, and fighting to keep his head above water; months of returning home tired, only to spend his evenings studying to refresh his skills. 

But he’d been determined to carve out a niche for himself, and here he was, about to start his first big contract, and he’d been head-hunted no less. The company had contacted him out of the blue and he’d seized the opportunity. His new life was about to begin.

Corinthian House was visible from some distance away, it’s brutal red brick and plate glass construction at odds with its more genteel neighbours. When Dan had told Alan about today’s appointment, Alan had called the place a carbuncle and muttered something about it spoiling a row of beautiful Georgian town houses. Dan had told him that it was no use railing against progress, but Alan hadn’t been swayed.

“That monstrosity isn’t there because of progress,” he’d countered. “It’s all down to the Luftwaffe.” And Alan had explained, not for the first time, about the so-called Baedeker Blitz: the wartime bombing campaign that had targeted the cities mapped out in considerable detail in the Baedeker guidebooks meant for tourists. A campaign that had left Exeter’s city centre pock-marked with craters that would later give rise to a cobbled-together collection of the old and the new; mellow medieval stonework cheek by jowl with fifties modernism.

But Dan had endured Alan’s lecture with a self-satisfied grin.  He was going back to work and, at last, his financial worries would be over. He’d enjoyed his time away from the world of commerce, but he’d grown increasingly concerned about the state of his bank balance. Certainly, he’d learned a great deal while he’d been tackling all those cases with Alan, but that hadn’t paid his bills. It was time to step back into the real world. It was time to grow up.

As if reading his mind, Dan’s phone emitted a muted beep from the inside pocket of his lightweight jacket. Twenty-five minutes to his appointment. If he slowed his pace, he’d breeze in through the front doors of the office with twenty minutes to spare. Perfect.

Or would that be too early? Would it make him seem too eager to please?

Dan slowed to a halt, and someone barged into him from behind. Dan turned around, an apology on his lips, but the middle-aged man simply tutted in disapproval and stomped onward, not even sparing a backward glance.

Rude, Dan thought. What’s the matter with him? But as Dan resumed his journey he remembered, with a twinge of regret, that when he’d lived in London, he’d always hated it when people dawdled on the pavements, especially during rush hour. That was the old me, he told himself. I’m different now, aren’t I?

Dan straightened his jacket and strode onward, heading for the steps that led up to the front doors of Corinthian House.

The plate glass doors, emblazoned with the navy blue letters CEG, the logo of the Corinthian Enterprise Group, slid aside noiselessly, and Dan stepped into the air-conditioned interior. He’d arrived.

*

That’s the end of the snippet, but I hope to be sharing a few more over the coming weeks.

Happy reading.