CLEO'S ENCOUNTER WITH THE GOLF CLUB SECRETARY - DIRTY DEEDS IN DOWNDENE

My luck was in because the Club Secretary, on his way from the bar to, presumably, his office, recognised me.

Kenneth Sibley Johnson approached me with a frown.  "Aren't you the woman who masqueraded as a police officer?"

"No.  I came here with DCI Kettle."

"Which gave everyone the impression that you were a police officer."

"I'm not responsible for people's thoughts, Mr. Johnson.  Impersonating a police officer is a criminal offence," I informed him.

"No matter."  He flapped his hand as if brushing away a long cobweb.  "You'd better come to my office.  You can't sit here.  You're not a member."

I resisted the bait and followed him into his office and went to look out of the window.

"What are you doing here, Mrs - er - . Sorry, I've forgotten your name."

Whether he had or not was a moot point.  I suspected he probably did remember and was trying a put-down.  That don't work with me.  I've been insulted by better than 'im.

"Miss Marjoribanks.  I'm neither married nor have I been neutered."  I do hate being called Ms.  Like calling the chairman or woman a chair.  A chair is a chair is a chair.  An inanimate object.  Wait a minute.  Hey, some chair people could be called that!

"Right, Miss Marjoribanks.  What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for someone who is playing golf."

"And who might that be?"

Snooty bugger.

"That Mr. Johnson is my business."

"No, Miss Marjoribanks it is my business.  Club members are entitled to privacy and to be protected from anyone who might have the intention of pestering them."

"I assume from that that you mean the press. Which I'm not, as I think you know.  The other inference is that I'm a whore and you think I'm here to pick up a man."  Bingo!  Was his face red.  "The only thing I will tell you is that I am here to meet a woman and, no, I'm not a lesbian."  His face flushed again.  "You could, of course, call DCI Kettle and tell him I'm here."

Now that really would be embarrassing for him.  You 'n' I know that David isn't slow on the uptake.

While he had been trying to insult me (and I've been insulted by the best) I'd been keeping an eye out for Stella.  Sure enough she hove into view with three other ladies.  Must have been a good game as they were chatting and laughing.

"Right, I'm off," and I left the office.  I had no intention of letting him know which of the four was my friend so I stood outside the front door until Stella spotted me.  She was about to leave the group but I waved her back and put a finger to my lips.  She got the message and I went round to the car park to wait.  Then my mobile rang.  "What's up with the secrecy, Cleo?"

"Club Secretary.  Tell you later.  I was going to chat with you here but p'raps we'd better meet somewhere else."

She named a nearby pub so I went there and waited for her.

Dirty Deeds in Downdene (as are all of my books) is available for Amazon Kindle

W.H. Smith's Kobo, Barnes & Noble Nook, Sony, Apple I-Pad

There are other formats and computer version on www.smashwords.com

When Cleo meets a horse - excerpt from Homicide in Hampshire

Cleo is a lady from London and recently moved to the New Forest.  Part of her health regime is taking walks in the forest - avoiding the ponies. She's never been close to a horse or pony and is rather scared of them!

"As I was nearing the copse I could see a saddled horse cropping the grass and wondered where the rider was.  “Oh gawd, don’t tell me someone’s fallen off and broken a leg or something,” I muttered.

I looked hard at the horse, it moved and I got the back view.  “’Ere, horse, turn round I want to get a look at your front.”  Keeping me distance I moved slowly round until I could see its face.  “I thought so.  You’re Maggie’s horse, aren’t you?”  I remembered seeing it in a photo Paula had shown me.  “Now what the heck’s your name?”  The reins were hanging down, “Come on, Cleo, be brave.  Be brave.”

I inched towards the horse.  It inched away.  I got a little closer and he moved away again.  “Oh for gawd’s sake, come ‘ere!  I want to take hold of those reins before you break your bloody leg.  Now, come ‘ere!”  Surprisingly the horse did “come ‘ere”.  I got hold of the reins.  “Now what do I do?  I’m not getting up on top of you even if I knew how.

“Come on, where is she?  You’re Maggie’s horse.  Where’s Maggie.  Come on, show me where she is.”  I was actually thinking of the horse as being like a dog.

I began walking into the copse, the horse quite close behind and getting uncomfortably close.  I could almost feel it nudging me and I broke out in a cold sweat.  “Don’t get too close, horse.  Don’t run away with me, either.  Hang on a minute.”  I stopped and it stopped.  We both listened.

I could faintly hear the sound of sobbing.  The horse whickered (I think that’s what that noise is called) and flicked his ears.  “That’s her, innit?  Come on, horse, here we go.  You lead her to me.”  I stood to one side of the footpath and let it go forward and take the lead.

Margaret was sitting on the ground nursing a foot, her helmet on the ground beside her and her fair hair like a waterfall over her face. 

“So why didn’t you use your mobile and phone your mother?”

She shoved her hair back as she looked up and whispered, “Battery’s flat.”

“How clever can you be!  So you’ve fallen off your horse.  Please don’t tell me you’ve broken your ankle.”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know,” she sobbed.

HOMICIDE IN HAMPSHIRE is available on:

Amazon Kindle

W.H. Smith's Kobo

Apple I-Pad

Barnes & Noble Nook

Sony

And other e-readers via Smashwords.com

Model Murder - 5* Review

This Five Star Review is published on Goodreads.com.  There is also a 5* review on Kindle!

'This the first mystery book I have read for years and I really enjoyed it. I loved the introduction, - I was right there with the boy on his bike when the body was found, and I liked the extensive use of dialogue, giving us an insight into the characters, moving the action on or revealing past events or situations. Flashbacks are smoothly integrated into the plot and a few carefully chosen details, such as cars or dancing, add an extra dimension to characters and scenes.

'There are several plausible motives and suspects and you wait in anticipation to see how the threads will be unravelled. The emotional states of the different characters are clearly put across and for me, this is a brilliant psychological thriller where, I'm glad to say, gore and over dramatisation have no place. All in all, it's a book about what makes people tick and how detectives finally find their answers through understanding human emotions and the pressures of society, especially if you happen to be famous. Both the choice of language and the complex web of emotions ground the book firmly into the modern world.

'Model Murder' made me realise how much I have missed by leaving 'mysteries' out of my reading list for so long. Time to catch up.' (Solange Hando).

Be a Travel Writer by Solange Hando

Or, to give it its full title: Be a Travel Writer, Live your Dreams, Sell your Stories.

How I wish this book had been available a long time ago when I started out to be a travel writer.  This step-by-step guide is full of useful information and tips, and is written in such a way that it is easy to understand. 

Solange explains how to research your markets, check what is available at your destinations and your travel arrangements.  Then there are things that travel writers SHOULD do and things they SHOULDN'T do - such as nagging an editor!

She also uses some of her own experiences - good, bad and funny - to illustrate points she is making.

By following her advice there is no excuse not to follow Solange Hando's example and become a successful travel writer.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Travel-Writer-Live-Dreams-Features-ebook/dp/B00KDQ9VJW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1409219189&sr=8-1&keywords=Be+a+Travel+Writer+by+Solange+Hando

Clothes Sizes

I long ago came to the conclusion that clothes sizes vary because they are made in other countries.  I've bought clothes in, for example, 16/18/20 (different styles) but they've all had the same measurements.  Wouldn't it be a good idea if distributors supplied the correct measurements to those overseas factories?

My most recent 'sizing' problem is armholes - especially on nightdresses.  I thought it was just me but after talking to several friends I find it is universal.  Nightdresses are supposed to be loose and comfortable - why make armholes so small that when you turn over in bed you are in danger of cutting off the blood supply to your hands?

My solution?  Opening and hemming the seams.  But, why, having paid good money should I then have to do alterations?

Answers please on a postcard!!!!!!!

My Life as a Courier

Want to know what I was doing and where I was in the 1970s?  The British magazine Yours (June 24 2014) will tell you all about it under 'Time of my Life'.  This is a section where readers are invited to contribute.  You can even see what I looked like in the 1970s.....

The article covers some of the problems (passports packed in suitcases!), the laughs, the hard work and - of course - the fun time.

Hope you manage get a copy and read all about it. 

Meeting their Waterloo?

Recently when watching a quiz programme I was amazed at the answers to questions about the Battle of Waterloo.

Q: When was it?
A: Er... 1066?

Q: Who led the British forces?
A:  Nelson.
(Poor old Duke of Wellington)

Q:  Where is Waterloo?

Wait for it....................

A:  London.

I can honestly say that I am not clever with historic dates.  Apart from the dates of the two World Wars my date knowledge is limited to:

Battle of Hastings - 1066

Fire of London   - 1666

Battle of Waterloo  -  1815   (three years after the Battle of Moscow in 1812 - thanks to that famous overture).

It does make one wonder what history has been taught in schools over the past 20 or so years, doesn't it?

Wonder if the person who thought Waterloo is in London now knows that the station was named after the battle?