A themed review tour by Prism Book Tours...
Death by the Book
by Julianna Deering
Christian Mystery
Paperback, 320 pages
March 4th 2014 by Bethany House Publishers
Drew Farthering wanted nothing more than to end the summer of 1932 with the announcement of his engagement. Instead, he finds himself caught up in another mysterious case when the family solicitor is found murdered, an antique hatpin with a cryptic message, Advice to Jack, piercing his chest.
Evidence of secret meetings and a young girl's tearful confession point to the victim's double life, but what does the solicitor's murder have to do with the murder of a physician on the local golf course? Nothing, it would seem--except for another puzzling note, affixed with a similar-looking bloodied hatpin.
Soon the police make an arrest in connection with the murders, but Drew isn't at all certain they have the right suspect in custody. And why does his investigation seem to be drawing him closer and closer to home?
Excerpt 1
Drew
Farthering dropped to one knee to get a closer look at the note.
It was a lovely thing really, written
with an old-fashioned quill pen on thick, yellowed paper, the handwriting
embellished with the generous loops and flourishes of Queen Elizabeth’s day. In
fact, it looked as if it could be from her time entirely. Sweet. Romantic. But
it lost some of its charm when one read the terse message: Advice to Jack.
The effect was further spoilt when one realized that the note was secured by
means of an ornate Victorian hatpin driven into the heart of Quinton Colman
Montford.
That Mr. Montford was in no position to be inconvenienced by
this was largely due to the vigorous application of a marble bookend to the
balding back of his head.
“Not much to go on.” Drew stood and picked up the two halves
of the bookend, a bust of Shakespeare only recently separated at the neck. “You
did say this had been checked for fingerprints?”
“I did not say. But yes, it has. There aren’t any.”
Chief Inspector Birdsong pursed his lips under his shaggy mustache. “Weren’t
any.”
“Must have hit him awfully hard to
crack it into pieces this way.”
“Or it broke on the grate there when he fell.”
Drew examined the hearth and then scanned the room. The
Empire Hotel in Winchester exuded respectability and quality without
ostentation. Just the image that would be prized by Whyland, Montford, Clifton
and Russ of London. No doubt it would be Whyland, Clifton and Russ now.
“How long ago?”
Birdsong shrugged his stooped shoulders. “I’d say an hour,
more or less. We’ll have to let the coroner determine that.”
“He couldn’t have fallen this way. Not if he was clouted on
the back of the head.”
“Obviously the killer turned him over, the better to attach
the message.” The chief inspector peered at Drew. “And tell me again just how
you happened to turn up at a fresh murder, young Farthering?”
“Appointment. Quarter past two. To discuss finalizing my,
um, mother’s and stepfather’s estates and revising my own will.” Drew looked at
him expectantly.
“Right. So you said at first. And you didn’t go to his
office in London because . . . ?”
“He had other business to see to, as did I. I’ve been
looking for someone competent to manage Farlinford Processing for me, so it was
simpler for both of us just to meet here in Winchester.”
“Did he tell you what his business was?”
Drew shook his head. “No, of course not.”
“Of course not. And how long had Mr. Montford been your
solicitor?”
“I believe my father put the firm on retainer about 1907 or
1908. Before I was born, at any rate, so a good twenty-five years or more now.
So what’s it mean? ‘Advice to Jack.’ Who’s Jack?”
“No idea as yet,” Birdsong admitted, the expression on his
craggy face as world-weary as any old bloodhound’s. “Bring anyone to your mind?”
“I’m afraid not, Chief Inspector. A client of the firm,
perhaps?”
“Yes, well, we’re checking that, though I expect there would
be any number of Jacks or Johns or even Jonathans utilizing a law firm of any
size. I wonder what advice our Mr. Montford could have given this Jack.”
“Evidently, it wasn’t very well received.”
Drew looked down at the body. Montford was lying with his
head thrown back, his mouth slackly open, one arm crumpled at an awkward angle
beneath him.
“He couldn’t have felt a thing. Thank God for that, poor
fellow.” Drew knelt once more, turning the head to study the wound on the back
of the skull. “Looks rather like the killer was a tallish chap. My height or
very nearly.”
“Quite probably.”
“I presume the pin was, ah, used after death?”
“It would seem so.” Birdsong touched one callused fingertip
to the small, dark stain on the front of the man’s finely made shirt. “Stabbed
through like that alive, I’d expect a good deal more blood than this. Clearly
he was bludgeoned first.”
The spatters on the grate and the hearth and the sticky
reddish-brown that had soaked into the carpeting were testament enough to that.
Drew took careful hold of Montford’s sleeve, lifting his
hand. “Where’s his ring?”
“Eh?”
“His wedding ring.” Drew pointed out the pale band of flesh
and slight indentation on the third finger of the left hand. “I don’t suppose
you chaps found it anywhere? Pocket perhaps?”
“No. All that was in his pockets were a few pound notes,
some odd pence, ring of keys, nothing out of the ordinary.”
Drew shook his head. “He was a nice chap. Always a kind word
when I was a boy, even when I’m sure I was a dreadful nuisance. My father liked
him very much. My stepfather, as well.”
“Perhaps he wasn’t quite what he seemed.”
“I suppose there’s always that possibility, Inspector. Ah,
well. Is there any way I can be of help here?”
“No, I suppose not. If you happen to think of anything that
might be useful, you know where to reach me.”
“Certainly.”
“At any rate, I don’t expect that you will need to reach
me.” Birdsong looked at Drew from under his heavy brows, and his meaning was
clear.
“No need to warn me off.”
“True enough.” Birdsong’s scowl deepened. “Warning you off
didn’t do the slightest bit of good last time, either.”
Julianna Derring has always been an avid reader and a lover of storytelling, whether on the page, the screen or the stage. This, along with her keen interest in history and her Christian faith, shows in her tales of love, forgiveness and triumph over adversity. A fifth-generation Texan, she makes her home north of Dallas with three spoiled cats and, when not writing, spends her free time quilting, cross stitching and watching NHL hockey. Her new series of Drew Farthering mysteries set in 1930s England debuts with Rules of Murder (Bethany House, Summer 2013) and will be followed by Death by the Book (Bethany House, Spring 2014) and Murder at the Mikado (Bethany House, Summer 2014).
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ALL readers, who are interested, can receive an autographed bookmark.
You can see a picture of the bookmark here.
Just send a self-address STAMPED (7" long) envelope to:
P. O. Box 375
Aubrey, Texas 76227
From the author regarding the fabulous GIVEAWAY:
How could one possibly have a cozy mystery
set in an old manor house in the English countryside near a quaint little village
and not have tea?
Drew doesn't usually take lemon or milk in his. He prefers honey,
especially if it's fresh from the hive.
Mrs. Devon, his housekeeper, spoils him terribly and makes sure he has it.
Print copies of The Rules of Murder and Death by the Book and a Tea Gift Basket (US ONLY)
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