Strictly Murder
By Lynda Wilcox
The estate agent's details listed two reception rooms, kitchen and bath. What they failed to mention was the dead celebrity in the master bedroom. Personal assistant Verity Long's house hunt is about to turn into a hunt for a killer. It will take some fancy footwork to navigate the bitchy world of dance shows, television studios, and dangerously gorgeous male co-stars. When Verity looks like the killer's next tango partner, she discovers that this dance is ... Strictly Murder.
LYNDA SAYS:
This passage is taken
from Strictly Murder, the first in a series of comedy cozy mysteries starring
feisty, self-opinionated amateur sleuth, Verity Long. In the excerpt, Verity is
getting closer to uncovering the murderer than she realises and he decides to
get rid of her once and for all, after a previous attempt on her life had
failed.
As we have quite a few
canals here in England, and I've spent several holidays boating on them, I
decided to use one in this scene, especially as it later ties in nicely with
the resolution of the sub-plot. I hope you enjoy it, and it gives you a flavour
of Verity's (very British) humour.
EXCERPT:
I had
reached the end of the shops along the high street and with it the comforting
yellow glow of their neon lights. Ahead of me now lay a dark patch leading up
to and over the canal bridge with the taxi office a hundred yards or so beyond
that. I walked into the blackness and onto the bridge feeling the rough stone
of the centuries-old parapet under my hand, hearing the lapping of water. When
I reached the top I stopped, taking a moment to let my eyes adjust to the lower
light levels. Above me the bright stars of the summer triangle sailed though
the June night. I brought my gaze downwards, leaning on the top of the stone.
It was very quiet and still. Below me a narrow boat, cabin lights barely masked
by floral curtains lay moored, its ropes taut to the tow-path. I stood on
tiptoe and peered over.
Suddenly,
everything was happening at once. I heard a pattering noise, strong hands
gripped my legs, I was pitched forward and barely had time to scream out, “What
the …”, before being catapulted into the inky blackness below.
It
wasn't a graceful dive, no forward somersault, half-pike and twist but there
was definitely a degree of difficulty in it as, arms and legs flailing wildly,
I cleaved the ice-cold, filthy water with all the elegance of a pregnant
buffalo and went under.
Fortunately,
canals aren't deep and I came to the surface quickly, coughing and spluttering,
hair and weed plastered over my face. I felt a thump in my back and thrashed
about madly, convinced whoever had thrown me from the bridge was hanging around
to finish me off.
“Keep
still, gal,” came a man's deep voice. “I've got the boat hook on yer.”
I
relaxed as someone skilfully drew me in to the side of the narrow boat.
Then
a woman's voice said, “I told you I'd heard a splash. Get her up, Ned, and
bring her in. I'll put the kettle on.”
Well-muscled
arms reached down to grasp mine and hauled me over the side of the boat where I
lay for a moment doing my best impression of a freshly caught trout.
"Thank
you,” I managed, as I staggered to my feet feeling like a drowned rat. I
probably looked like one, too. I shivered with shock as much as with cold as
the man led me down the steps and inside.
"Welcome
to The Mermaid's Lair. I'm Ned, Ned Oldfield, and this good lady is my
wife, Alice."
"Verity
Long," I replied in a shaky voice as Ned wrapped a blanket round my
shoulders and settled me on a chair.
His
wife put a mug of hot, sweet tea in my hands and I hunched over it, sipping the
dark brown liquid, warming my hands as well as my insides.
“How
on earth did you come to end up in the canal, gal?" Ned asked having
brushed aside my thanks.
“I
was pushed in.”
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Thanks for featuring my excerpt, Jill. Hope you and your readers enjoyed it.
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