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Related By Murder by Jo A. Hiestand is a Mystery and Suspense Bookish Event pick #britishmystery #mystery #giveaway



Title: Related By Murder

 

Author: Jo A. Hiestand

 

Genre: British Mystery

 

Book Blurb:

 

From the moment ex-police detective Michael McLaren arrives at his friend’s house, he’s plunged into a nightmare of a case. Two men, hanged a year apart, each killed on a Good Friday. A barrister. A solicitor. Related careers. Related by murder. Related motives?

 

Pottery shards, a torn newspaper article, and biscuits are found in each man’s pocket. What do they signify? And the blackmail letters Melanie receives… Are they related to the murders, or are they separate, terrifying in their own way?

 

Professions, calendar date, McLaren’s attack. Could it all be entwined? Or is the motive for murder something else, something so secret that keeping it is worth attempting a third one?

 

Excerpt:

 

McLaren leaned forward, repositioning his feet on the floor, and grabbed his cup of tea from the coffee table. He held his mobile phone, conjuring up her face. “No, I’m fine physically, Melanie. It’s not that. The problem seems more emotional or mental than physical. My restlessness, I mean. Nothing holds my interest at the moment. Well, more than a moment. For the past several days. I can’t concentrate on anything, and I should be getting back to the stone wall repair work. I think the case upset me more than I’d realized.”

 

“Walks are good stress relievers. Have you tried that? Or…I’ve a better idea. Would you like to come visit? Would that settle you? I would’ve asked sooner, but I thought perhaps you were investigating another cold case.”

 

“Nothing’s reared its ugly head, thank God, but the day’s young.”

 

She laughed, and he envisioned her dark blonde hair falling over her shoulder. “Well, then, I’m elected to nudge you out of your… I forgot what you call your bad mood.”

 

“My sister calls it my growlings. And I’m not in a bad mood. I just can’t focus on anything.”

 

“You’re still keyed up about your recent case. Just a second. I have to put the phone down.” During the conversational break, he could hear metal sliding along something hard, like a baking sheet skimming across a granite kitchen worktop. Little scrapes, like an aluminum spatula scooting biscuits or scones off the sheet, convinced him he’d interrupted her work and he needed to let her get on with her day. He had just persuaded himself to tell her goodbye when her voice was back at his ear. “You need a break, Mike. Something different from your usual schedule. Why don’t you drive up here? May is shining in its colorful glory now. My housekeeping’s not too shabby, either.” She seemed to add the last sentence as a joke, for her voice rose in an air of teasing.

 

“I didn’t ring you up to wheedle a trip, Melanie. I thought a chat would do me good.” And I needed to hear your voice, he wanted to add, but didn’t.

 

“I’d love if you’d come up, Mike. Really. Bring along your growlings, if you wish. We can deal with them, and we can talk longer if you’re here. When can you come?”

 

He cleared his throat. “Would tomorrow be too soon? Provided you’ve some time to spend with me. If your B&B is booked, I can always get a room at one of the other places in the village.”

 

“You will not. That’s ridiculous. I wouldn’t have asked you to visit if I wasn’t prepared to offer you a place to stay. Why not come up today, provided you can be ready that soon? It’s just a tad over a two-hour drive, if I remember correctly. Why waste a day by waiting until tomorrow? We can attack your growlings that much sooner.”

 

“All right. I’ll aim for arriving later this afternoon.”

 

“Why not make it around teatime? We can catch up on our five-week separation over a cuppa and scones.”

 

“Thanks, Melanie. This sounds smashing. See you around four, then.” He rang off and realized he still held his cup of tea. It’d grown cold but he didn’t care.

 

*

 

Melanie shuffled through the letters that had arrived in the post that morning. The majority of the mail was junk: advertisements, brochures and circulars. The occasional personal letter appeared, probably requesting a stay at her bed-and-breakfast. She opened the top one. Yes. Did she have the weekend of twentieth October available for… She folded the sheet of paper and stuffed it back into the envelope. The second request for a two-night lodging was written on pale blue stationery, a fancy initial monogram at the top of the paper. She also set that aside.

 

She glanced at the third envelope. It was the standard white type sold in any chemist’s or office supply shop. There was no return address either on the front upper left corner or on the back flap. She opened it and withdrew the sheet of paper.

 

It matched the envelope style, common computer printer paper that was available for purchase most anywhere. But the typed message was hardly common.

 

Trevor was a coward. You know it.

I know it. If you don’t pay me £500 on

28 May the whole world will know it.

 

She tried to still her trembling hand as she re-read it, but the paper fluttered. She pressed the page against the top of the hallway table, smoothing it taut and holding it still. The words hadn’t changed. The same four sentences glared back at her, smirking in their insinuation. When she finally looked up, the sunlight in the hallway had shifted and lay upon a framed photograph of her house. It had been taken in her grandparents’ day. The laurel trees beside the front door were barely waist-high then, planted when they and Gran and Gramps were young. The house meant a lot to Melanie. Besides being her livelihood, it was a link with her family. She didn’t have five hundred pounds to pay whoever this letter writer was.

 

She wadded up the paper and envelope, and pitched them into the waste bin, praying that was the end of it. But the words whispered to her from the bottom of the basket even as she returned to the kitchen.

 

Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):

 

 

 

 

 

 

What makes your featured book a must-read?

 

I like the idea of the two murders both happening on the same day but separated by a year. That’s a mystery in addition to solving whodunit – why two deaths on the same day? I think that’s rather unusual in a mystery.  I also like the budding romance between McLaren and his lady friend Melanie. What will happen between them? Plus, while McLaren is at Melanie’s, he discovers she has a bit of a mystery of her own...which he also needs to investigate.

 

Giveaway –

 

Enter to win a $25 Amazon gift card:

 

 

Open Internationally.

 

Runs August 7 – August 14, 2024.


Winner will be drawn on August 15, 2024.

 

Author Biography:

 

Jo A. Hiestand grew up on regular doses of music, books, and Girl Scout camping. She gravitated toward writing in her post-high school years and finally did something sensible about it, graduating from Webster University with a BA degree in English and departmental honors. She writes a British mystery series (the McLaren Mysteries) and a Missouri-based cozy mystery series that is grounded in places associated with her camping haunts. The camping is a thing of the past, for the most part, but the music stayed with her in the form of playing guitar and harpsichord, and singing in a folk group. Jo carves jack o’ lanterns badly and sings loudly. She loves barbecue sauce and ice cream (separately, not together), kilts (especially if men wear them), clouds and stormy skies, and the music of G.F. Handel. You can usually find her pulling mystery plots out of scenery—whether from photographs or the real thing.

 

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