A Study in Stone - Advanced Peek
A snippet from the newly released edition of the first Devonshire Mystery
Hello there,
“…when you get the bit between your teeth, you have all the tact of a gently lobbed hand grenade.”
Alan Hargreaves to Dan Corrigan - A Study in Stone (2nd edition)
― Michael Campling
As promised, here’s the info on the ‘fan pricing’ for the new edition of A Study in Stone, along with a handy link. To add value, there’s a snippet from the book: a chapter that I don’t think even the beta readers have seen.
Also, there’s a new Reader of the Week.
But I won’t take up too much of your time as I’ve already emailed this week. On Friday, I slipped up with the live reading which resulted in a second message going out on the same day as the newsletter. Sorry for any confusion - I must’ve ticked the wrong box.
Onwards and upwards.
Advanced Snippet
A Study in Stone (2nd edition)
Chapter 1 (excerpt)
Dan Corrigan parked his BMW in a handy space immediately in front of his Hampstead home, but he didn’t climb from the car. He sat in the driving seat, his hands in his lap, staring out at the street.
A steady stream of teenagers dawdled on their way to school, some chatting in twos or threes, others walking solo, headphones clamped over their ears.
The scene struck him as odd, but then, he was never home at this time on a weekday. Never.
A couple of teenagers cast suspicious glances at him as they passed, and Dan came back to earth, looking away and unfastening his seatbelt.
Out of habit, he glanced at the passenger seat, but his laptop bag wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t.
As he exited the car, a rush of dizziness swept over him, and he took a second to steady himself.
Home, he thought. A drink of water.
He made for the front door that led up to his flat, his shoulders hunched. He occupied the top floor of a Regency townhouse. The lower floors belonged to Katy Goodwin, a thoracic surgeon, so she owned the coveted parking spot on the driveway.
Her Range Rover wasn’t there, but in its place stood a man in a black polo shirt and matching trousers. The shirt sported a corporate logo Dan hadn’t seen before, but that lack of recognition seemed to be a one-way street. The man’s stare was locked on Dan, and there was something implacable about the glint in the man’s eyes and the set of his jaw.
What now? Dan thought. Is he a courier?
Dan didn’t deviate from his course, but he summoned his last reserves of patience and said, “Can I help you with something?”
The man nodded once. “Mr Corrigan?”
“Yes, that’s right. Is there a delivery, only I don’t think I –”
“Car,” the man butted in, holding out his hand. “Keys please. All of them.”
Dan’s step faltered and he halted. “Sorry?”
“Your car. It’s company property, and I’m here to collect it, so I’ll need the keys.”
“But I–”
The man raised a hand to cut him off. “Mr Corrigan, I’m here to take immediate possession of the BMW X7 leased to you by Vortigern International. You no longer work for Vortigern, so that lease is null and void. Now, I have a flatbed truck in the street and another job to get to, so if you’d be so good as to hand over the keys, I’d appreciate it.”
Dan pressed his lips together tight. He looked to the front door. A few paces and he’d be inside, but what good would that do?
“Come on, Mr Corrigan,” the man went on. “Let’s get this done.”
Dan swallowed hard, and for some reason he focused on the man’s outstretched hand. The man’s fingers were pink and clean, his skin smooth. Perhaps he wore gloves when he went about his work: a professional, good at his job.
In silence, Dan took the car key from his pocket and handed it over.
“The spare?” the man prompted.
“Inside. Shall I…?”
The man nodded. “You can fetch them while I check the car. Are there any personal effects in there?”
Dan started to shake his head, but he stopped himself. “A pair of sunglasses. Ray-Bans. In the side pocket. I’ll get them.”
Dan turned and made to move past, but the man sidestepped, blocking his way.
“No need, sir. I’ll get them for you.” He tilted his head to one side, his stare cold. “You’d better stay out of my way.”
“There’s no need to make threats.”
The man shook his head slowly. “No one’s threatening you, Mr Corrigan. I’m just doing my job, okay?”
Dan met the man’s stare but not for long. “All right, I’ll get the other key.”
“Good. I’ll give you five minutes, but you need to hand them over before I go. If I have to come back, there’ll be a charge, and it won’t be cheap.”
Dan could think of no reply, so he turned on his heel and marched toward the front door.
The spare car key was in the desk drawer exactly where he’d left it, and a couple of minutes later he was back on the street.
A few metres away, the BMW was already being loaded onto a flatbed truck. A tall young man was doing the work, operating a winch while the older man watched.
Dan wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. In no time at all, the car rolled onto the truck, and the young man set about securing it with several straps.
Apparently satisfied with his colleague’s efforts, the older man swaggered back along the pavement to join Dan.
Dan handed over the spare key, receiving his soft plastic sunglasses case in return.
“Thanks.” Dan said. “I appreciate it. I’d have hated to lose these.”
The man blinked as if taken aback. “No problem.” He paused. “Are you all right?”
“No, not really.”
The man studied Dan from head to toe as if measuring him for a coffin. Perhaps he knew good tailoring when he saw it, or recognised the quality of Dan’s Italian leather shoes, because when he was done, he looked Dan in the eye and he smirked.
He thinks I had it coming, Dan decided. He thinks I’ve only myself to blame.
Bitter words sprang to Dan’s tongue, but he held them back, swallowed them down. What could he say? This was his own fault, his own stupid, bloody fault.
“Have a good day,” the man drawled, then he marched away.
Standing alone on the pavement, Dan’s fingers formed tight fists. In his right hand, the sunglasses case yielded, and some small part of his precious Ray-Bans gave way with a muffled crack.
“Shit,” Dan hissed, wrenching his gaze from the forlorn BMW, then he turned and stalked back to the driveway. Behind him, the truck’s diesel engine grew louder and then rapidly faded. His car had gone.
The ground shifted under Dan’s feet, and he hurried inside. No, he thought. Not now. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing, his breath coming too fast, his chest tight. In his front room, he went to the window and peeked out. Despite himself, he stared at the empty space where his car had been. Another car would be there soon. In this street, like most of London, no parking space went unoccupied for long.
His loss would be somebody else’s gain. The juggernaut of capitalism rolled on. Some were safely up top, riding in the cab, others toiled below to keep the engine running, but if you were left out, if you had no role to play, you’d be crushed beneath its relentless wheels.
It was only a car, Dan told himself. A way to get from A to B, that’s all.
But that wasn’t the half of it. His credit card, his laptop, his phone, his gym membership, his dental plan and his private health insurance: all had been taken from him, stripped away in seconds.
These things had been the basis of his existence; they’d governed his life, defined him. Without them, what was he? Who was he?
Dan looked around his front room, and before his eyes the colours faded from his world. The furniture, the carpet and even the artwork on the walls grew drab and grey, mired in gloom.
He was dehydrated, that was the problem. In the kitchen, he tossed the sunglasses case onto the counter and grabbed a glass. There was mineral water in the fridge, but he had no time to get it. He filled the glass at the sink, but as he raised it to his lips, his hand had trembled, water spilling over his fingers.
“Not this,” he said, the words catching in his throat. “Not again.”
Dan steadied his right hand with his left, and as he took a mouthful of water, a single thought crystallised in his mind: I have to get out of here.
***
Fan Pricing and Handy Link
From today (27 July) but only for 2 days (29 July) the ebook of A Study in Stone is 99p/$0.99 or an equivalent.
I’ve compiled the links into a handy page, and you’ll notice some large buttons saying “Please Buy Direct.” Whether you use those buttons is entirely up to you. The buttons both go to my own store which lists prices in pounds, so please check what you’ll pay in your local currency at checkout.
ebooks from my store are delivered by Bookfunnel and they work on all apps and ereaders.
Due to printing costs, the paperback isn’t reduced, however the paperback on my store is cheaper and better quality than the version on the store beginning with A. The paperback on my store is printed and delivered by Bookvault, a UK company who work with printers in the UK, USA, Canada and Australia. Postage costs for paperbacks vary - please check.
I have delisted the original version of this book, but some stores list older books from 3rd parties, so I suggest you use my link and go from there.
Here’s that link in full:
books.michaelcampling.com/8wfany3rhq
Thank You Very Much!
Whether you buy the book or not, thank you sticking with me while I rewrote and republished this story. In a way, it was a strange thing to do, especially as a lot of people liked the original, but it was the right thing to do.
The new book has more mystery, better clues, an improved plot and more interesting characters. If you read it, I sincerely hope you have fun with it. Reviews are welcome as the older book had lots of reviews but this edition has none at all.
Happy reading and take care,
Mikey
