Hello, Book Lovers!

In case you’ve missed it, over on the Notes from the Cave blog, I’ve been sharing the prologue, chapter one, and chapter two of The Reporter at the Gate, the first murder mystery in my Rookie Reporter Amateur Sleuth Mystery series.

Up next is chapter three where the suspense is ramped up and the stakes are raised for James, heightening his investment into figuring out what happened to Albert Harrington.

Since this chapter of my murder mystery is already available in Amazon’s Look Inside, I’m including it here as well so you can read everything in order without jumping between platforms.

Without further ado, here’s a bit about the story.

Three

Stepping across the plush carpet of the study, James tripped over the open door of the floor safe. He cringed as a loud bang echoed through the English château. Fingers crossed that no one’s home.

James dashed across the study and around the sea of evidence and into the hallway. The house was still, only broken by faint rustling and the thudding of feet from above. Terrified of being caught near the study, he sprinted into the entry.

The foyer looked exactly as he’d left it: a scatter of crimson on the pristine tiles, a handprint smeared like modern art from a first-year art student. Not the sort of thing he wanted to explain to a pregnant woman. She was definitely home, based on the footfalls from above. Only Albert and his wife lived in this house, according to the briefing that Rhys gave him before he left work the day before.

At the top of the staircase, on the landing, Albert Harrington’s pregnant wife stood frozen. Her bulging brown eyes locked onto him the second he entered the foyer. As she surveyed the scene, her face was flushed a shade of white that matched the foyer’s tiles. Please don’t freak out. A wild expression swept over her face as she gripped the bannister.

‘What did you do?’ Victoria whispered. She brought her hand up and covered her mouth.

Still clutching the bannister with one hand, Victoria headed towards the stairs.

‘Euh.’ James held his hand up. ‘I don’t think you should come down here. You really don’t need to see this.’ Then he sprinted up the stairs.

Craning her neck, Victoria stared into James’s eyes. ‘You’ve got blood on your shoes. What did you do to my Albert?’

James lowered his voice, trying to steady her. ‘Why don’t you sit?’ He pointed at the upholstered mini-chaise-style bench behind her.

She pursed her lips, relinquished her stern gaze, then traipsed over to the bench. As she sat, Victoria dropped her trembling hands into her lap. James’s heart sank as he watched tears drip down her cheeks.

He took a deep breath. ‘Honestly, I’m not sure what’s happened. I found your house like this. The front door was open, and I walked in.’

Victoria narrowed her eyes. ‘I can see the smear of blood in the hall. Don’t lie to me.’ Her voice rose just above a dull whisper.

James swallowed hard, the metallic tang still clinging to the back of his throat. Technically, she wasn’t wrong about what she saw, just about who had put it there.

James’s mouth fell open. ‘I think you’re misunderstanding things here. I’m James Lalonde from the Northampton Tribune. This morning, I had an interview with your husband.’ James took a deep breath. ‘Your husband wasn’t here when I arrived. The driveway gates were open. Everything you can see now was just as I found it.’ James crouched in front of her, took her trembling hands, then looked her in the eye. ‘I swear to you that this is just as I found it. Because of the amount of blood, I came into your house, looking for Albert. That’s when I noticed the blood trail started in the study. The sound you heard when you woke was me tripping over the open door of the floor safe.’

Victoria slipped her hands out from under his and held her growing belly.

‘Are you okay? My grandmother is a retired obstetrician. I can call her if you like.’

Tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘So Albert isn’t downstairs? And the car?’

James shook his head. ‘There’s no car in the driveway.’

His chest tightened. He needed to ask, but he didn’t want to upset Victoria even further. Taking a deep breath, James gazed at her.

Victoria bit her lip as she surveyed the entry. She tilted her head. ‘I vaguely remember Albert mentioning a write-up in the Northampton Tribune. He was a little grumpy about it. These days, I’ve been a bit forgetful.’ Victoria rubbed her belly. ‘Baby brain.’

‘Sorry to ask,’ James said with a polite smile, ‘but do you know if your husband had any angry clients or unexpected visitors this morning?’

Victoria leaned back against the wall behind the bench. ‘I’m sure the police will sort this out.’ She nodded towards the ground floor. ‘There’s a phone in the foyer.’

James sat on the upholstered mini-chaise-style bench next to her. ‘Your husband’s clients will probably not talk to the police because they’re behind bars or have been released from prison. But they will talk to me because I’m the press in hopes that I will clear their names. And some will not talk to anyone. So I’m your best bet for figuring out the truth of what happened here.’ James waved his arm towards the open door. ‘With the exception of finding out that your husband’s alive and well and in hospital.’

Victoria bit her lip and peered down the stairs. ‘I don’t think Albert survived this,’ Victoria said as her voice broke.

James’s heart sank. From the bench, the view below was grim. At his age, it was highly improbable that Albert survived that much blood loss. Albert had worked hard to rise to the position of resident judge only to have it snatched away at the last minute.

Victoria sniffled and wiped her damp cheeks. ‘You did raise an interesting point earlier. Some of his past clients have done some shady things. They probably won’t say anything useful to the police. I’ll get you a list of his clients. He gave me a list some time ago. Just in case. I thought Albert was being a bit overdramatic, but now I’m not so sure.’

James nodded. ‘I’ll make the call.’ James pointed over his shoulder at the phone on the buffet cabinet in the foyer.

Unfortunately, I’m no longer providing advanced reader copies at this time. But you can buy The Reporter at the Gate direct from me at the launch price of 99 pence (for a limited time only) by clicking the button below.

Happy reading, everybody!

Amelia xx