Well, it’s taken me a long time to get the next Devonshire Mystery ready.

It’s been a long road, and it’s a long book. Very long.

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 in full.

The woodland pictured is one of my own photos, taken on a local walk, and I think it gives you an idea of the setting for this chapter.

I hope it gives you a flavour of Dan and Alan’s next adventure, and maybe it will whet your appetite.

A Must-Have Murder – A Snippet

Chapter 1

Alan ran through the forest, his thigh muscles cramping, sweat slicking his back, his chest, his scalp. The crisp air of early spring did nothing to cool him, and his breath rasped in his throat, every exhalation a low moan of pain. But he couldn’t stop to get his breath back, couldn’t slow down.

Ahead, a shadowy figure raced into the distance, sometimes vanishing in the shadows or hidden by a curve in the trail. He was getting away, and Alan couldn’t allow that. He had to catch him.

Alan threw back his head and gasped for air, pouring everything he had into a headlong dash. Arms pumping, feet pounding the dirt, he urged his tortured body onward. I can do it, he thought. I’m gaining on him.

The trail was rougher here, the path littered with loose stones and fragments from broken branches. Alan scanned the ground as he ran, but the dappled shadows made it hard to see, and the sweat from his brow stung the corners of his eyes. He blinked, lifted a hand to wipe his eyes, and that was all it took.

In mid-step his left foot caught on something, and he almost fell, but he spread his arms and twisted his body, keeping his balance. His momentum carried him forward, but his next stride was clumsy, and his right foot hit the ground at an awkward angle. A jab of pain jolted through his calf. He ran on, but each time his right foot met the trail, the pain in his calf intensified as if the muscles were being torn apart.

“Oh hell!” Alan had no choice but to stagger to a halt, wincing with every step. He pressed his hand against the nearest tree trunk, and took the weight from his right leg, staring down at it, half expecting to see the signs of some terrible injury.

There were footsteps on the trail, growing closer, slowing as they approached, and Alan looked up to see the man he’d tried so hard to catch. This was it: the moment he’d been dreading. He’d failed, and now he’d pay the price.

“Are you all right?” Dan asked. “Did you fall?”

“No,” Alan said. “I slipped a bit, that’s all. I’ll be all right in a minute.”

Dan studied him for a second. “You don’t look all right. Why don’t you sit down?”

“I don’t want to sit down. I don’t need to sit down. I’m fine, so there’s no need to make a fuss. I was doing really well. I was catching up with you.”

“That’s great, but you look as if you’re avoiding putting weight on that leg, and that’s not a good sign. Where’s the injury? Is it your ankle or your knee? Or is it groin strain?”

“None of the above, and I can put my weight on it. You see?” Alan pushed himself off from the tree and took a step, but though he clamped his jaws shut, a grunt of pain escaped from his lips.

“For goodness’ sake, stop,” Dan said. “Stop for a minute and tell me what the problem is.”

“All right. It’s my leg. I caught my foot on something, probably a stupid bramble, and when I tried to keep going, my calf muscle hurt like hell.”

“Did it feel as though anything gave way or popped?”

“No, nothing so horrendous. It’s just very tight and a bit tender.”

Dan nodded. “You’ve strained one of the muscles in your calf. When you almost fell, you made a sudden change in your stride and put too much load on your calf. I expect you’ve torn a few muscle fibres. Are you getting a sharp pain when you try to push off from that leg?”

“Yes, that sounds about right. Is it serious, do you think?”

“Not necessarily. It’s not an uncommon injury for runners. I’ve done it myself. It takes a while to heal, but unless it gets worse, you shouldn’t need to see a doctor.”

“Small mercies.” Alan took a tentative step. “I think I can walk on it, so I should be okay to drive, but it’s a long way back to the car.”

“If it helps, you can lean on me.”

“No thanks. I’ll manage. Let’s go.”

Alan started walking, hobbling along the trail, Dan at his side.

“It’s a shame,” Dan said. “You were doing well. You set off at a good pace, and you covered the first K in record time.”

“How far have we come?”

Dan consulted his watch. “2.8 K.”

“Is that all?” Alan moaned.

“It’s more than halfway.”

“I know, but I thought we were getting near the end. I was shattered.”

“You’ve got to learn to pace yourself,” Dan said. “You shouldn’t try to beat me. I’ve been running for years.”

Alan didn’t reply. This was the part he hated the most. The actual running was hard, but he was slowly getting fitter, even losing a little of the flab around his middle. But afterward there was always the post-run lecture: an in-depth analysis of all his flaws and physical weaknesses. There was only one way he could make it stop, and that was to match Dan’s speed and give him a run for his money. That would shut him up.

“It’s all about finding the right rhythm,” Dan was saying. “Cadence and stride length are so important.”

“Yes, you’ve said as much before,” Alan replied. “But let’s talk about something else. How’s business? Any potential clients?”

Dan’s enthusiasm seemed to vanish in an instant. “No. Not so much as a lost cat.”

“It’s early days, but things will pick up. It takes time.”

“I hope so,” Dan said. “When I wasn’t looking for clients, cases fell in my lap, but now that I need something to investigate, nothing’s happening.”

Alan stopped suddenly, raising his hand. “Hang on.”

“What is it? Have you had an idea?”

“No. Sorry, but I need a breather. My leg’s killing me.”

“Right.”

The two men stood in silence, Alan taking deep breaths while Dan stared into the middle distance. After a few seconds, Alan said, “How are your online adverts going?”

“Not bad. I get a few clicks to my website, but no one has filled out the form. I may have made it too complicated.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me. Any emails or calls?”

“Crank calls and spam. I’m beginning to think—” Dan broke off abruptly and unfastened the pocket on his armband phone holder, the phone vibrating in his hand as he retrieved it.

Dan accepted the call and held the phone to his ear. “Dan Corrigan. How can I help?”

A pause, and then Dan said, “Yes, that’s certainly something I can handle.”

Dan listened, his smile becoming broader, his tone more confident. “Of course, confidentiality is our watchword.”

Alan noted that our, but he knew better than to interrupt.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Dan was saying. “This afternoon at two o’clock. I’ll see you then. Thank you for calling.”

Dan ended the call and replaced his phone, humming under his breath.

“Well?” Alan asked. “Who was it? A new client?”

“Yes, at least, she could be. A woman called Zadie Barrington. I’m seeing her later.”

——–

That’s the end of the snippet, and I hope you enjoyed it. Stay tuned for news of the book’s release.

Happy reading.