Halloween in the beautiful county of Midsomer finds itself overshadowed by a trick or treat that takes a nasty turn. Sara McLower answers the door, and finds her life ended by a pumpkin. When villagers gather a few weeks later for her funeral, there's an understandable sense of unease.
Still, there's the festive lights switch-on to look forward to at The Windy Dog pub, overseen as always by longstanding landlady Betty Grainger. But when she flicks the light switch, it'd be fair to say that things go with a bit of a bang. It leaves not one but two serious crimes to investigate.
Which is where you come in. Step into the shoes of a detective in Midsomer, and choose your own path through the investigation. Can you get to the bottom of just what's happened, or will you end up putting your own life in jeopardy?
Your task, in this follow-up to the bestselling Could You Survive Midsomer? To solve what's gone on, arrest who needs arresting - and try to avoid coming a cropper yourself. Good luck, detective...
An official Midsomer Murders Interactive novel set in ITV's most celebrated and murderous county.
Release date:
October 29, 2024
Publisher:
Octopus
Print pages:
336
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
As someone who hadn’t lived in the beautiful village of Causton for long, Sara McLower was determined to play her part in making it one of the most talked-about places in the area.
Unlike many around her, who seemed to have been born, lived and died in the place, she’d chosen to come to Causton. She wanted to come back here. It seemed a lot safer than her previous home in the city, and she admitted that was a tiny part of her thinking too. But Causton was not, she knew, an accidental choice. She was here for a reason. Sara was in her late fifties, and was thoroughly fed up of moving around. She’d worked non-stop for decades, and bided her time before choosing the perfect house with her significant savings.
Oh, and the fact that her sister, Betty Grainger, ran the local pub? Sara loved that she was back, closer to family. Family hadn’t always been easy.
Sara had quickly worked out that owning this particular property in Causton still brought with it some added expectations, especially around Halloween and Christmas. It was the first building many people saw as they drove through the area, and it set the tone for the rest of the village. After last year’s power-cut incident with her festive lights, she wasn’t going to let the side down today.
That’s why she’d doubled her efforts this year. It didn’t matter that she didn’t really talk to too many people. She just needed to reconnect properly with Betty, and to be a part of the village.
The outside of the house was pretty much perfect. It’d taken a whole day at the start of the week to carve out the pumpkins and to arrange the decorations. It should have taken her less time, but she’d finally had to admit that her health was declining. Her energy levels had taken a hit, particularly this year, and she was having to carefully plan what she wanted to do and when. She’d be posting her Christmas gifts this year, rather than driving around and delivering them. Not that most of the people around here seemed to appreciate them.
Today’s final job was preparing snacks. She was particularly proud of her cupcakes, which she’d been finessing that morning. It meant she’d have enviable treats for those who came knocking at the door. A Halloween to remember, she smiled, as she rearranged one of the many air fresheners and bowls of pot pourri about her home. Sara didn’t just like things looking prim and proper – they had to smell that way too.
She was flagging now, though, and glad that she’d posted her letter this morning, rather than having to go out now. She looked at her watch. Just gone 5pm, and her energy levels were sapped. But, just like her sister, she knew that she needed to put on a show.
Thing is, she hated Halloween evening, in truth, but she knew she had to get through it. She took a gulp from the mug of cold-remedy drink, rinsed the cup and checked the oven was off.
Thinking she might just get an hour of rest before the procession of visitors started knocking, she cursed under her breath as the shrill sound of the electric doorbell broke the silence. One of those new-fangled things with a camera in that her nephew, Finn – Betty’s son – had fitted over the summer.
She was supposed to check on the video feed on her phone really, but she struggled with technology. She and her sister were alike in that way. What’s more, she was close to the door anyway. I may as well get my cupcakes and open it, she figured. I don’t need to check who it is. The rain was still hammering down hard as she opened the chunky door.
It’s odd what goes through your head when there’s a pumpkin being flung at speed towards your face. At least, Sara thought, she could take solace in the fact that she’d hollowed it out. It was going to be soft when it hit, wasn’t it?
However, if only Sara had taken a moment to count her pumpkins this morning on her way to the post box, she’d have noticed that instead of the seven she’d put out at the front of the house, there had been eight.
It was the contents of the eighth that interfaced with her skull.
Her death wouldn’t be immediate, though. She’d cling on for two weeks before her body gave up. But who would want her dead? And why?
This, Detective, is where you come in! As a member of Causton’s CID team, you’re asked to represent the department at Sara McLower’s wake a few weeks later. Soon, you’re going to be choosing a path to follow through the story, via the choices at the end of each passage. For now, jump to 48, and head over to Sara’s wake, one month later. There’s a crime to solve …
You work through things as logically as you can: if you were Finn Grainger, where would you go? If he wanted quiet time, he could have gone just about anywhere. Your only tangible hope is that he might have gone home: well, to the Windy Dog anyway. It’s there you head, parking your car at the back of the building, so as not to get in the way of some of the ongoing forensics work still taking place.
There’s police tape here, of course, and you make your colleagues aware that you’re about. There’s no obvious sign of Finn’s car, but you nonetheless decide it might be worth making your way inside the pub.
It’s a shadow of the place it was the day before, as if time has stood still since last night’s incident. You make your way behind the bar and into the back room. A few unopened Christmas cards are on the table, but otherwise it’s quite tidy. You spot Archie’s coat – or at least one of them – hung up. You can’t help but feel sombre. You didn’t even know him that well, and he certainly wasn’t a fan of yours. Even so, he didn’t deserve this.
You’re lost in thought as a figure appears in the doorway. Finn Grainger. You offer an awkward hello, and he offers one in return. Whatever rage he was in, he’s calmed down for now. But he’s not happy.
‘I want whoever did this,’ he says. ‘I’ll help in any way I can.’
You work through what you know together, occasionally stopping as he composes himself again. The murder of Sara McLower, and her slow poisoning. The toxic reviews posted about the pub, that led to trade falling dramatically. And then, of course, the lights explosion.
‘Do you think they’re linked?’ he asks you.
‘I can’t rule that out,’ you admit. But in lieu of fresh information about the poisoning, and the lights, you turn to what’s probably the smallest crime on that list: the reviews.
Finn pulls the reviews up on his phone, and you do the same. There’s a familiar pattern to the way they appear to be written, but also, to your eyes, there are two slightly different styles here.
‘Is there any way you can trace who wrote them?’ he asks. ‘Can’t they tell you roughly where they came from, geographically?’
‘You’re more the tech expert than me,’ you suggest. On a hunch, however, you head to the extensive terms and conditions of one of the websites. You’re glad you had so much coffee today, else you’d nod off trying to read them. But you skim through until you find what you’re looking for: that anyone leaving a review has to have verified they’ve visited the place in question, or prove they live in its geographic area.
‘They’re being posted from Causton?’ he says.
‘We can’t be certain,’ you admit. ‘But it’s possible. We could just use a computer expert around here.’
‘The only one I know is Teddy Jones. He’s never off the thing,’ says Finn.
Alison and Bob’s grandson. Of course. He does their shop deliveries for them, to make money for the latest gizmo he needs.
Thinking about it, that still doesn’t make him an expert on review websites, but he’s worth thinking about. You check that Finn’s going to be okay – he’s going back to his mother soon – and head to your car.
Time for another drive, Detective. Get moving over at 191.
You make your way over the room to greet Betty Grainger and, with a pained expression, she attempts – and fails – to put a convincing smile on her face.
The weight of the world looks to be on her shoulders, though, and you’re not surprised. Today, after all, she’s had to bury her only sister. As Sara’s closest surviving relative, it’s Betty who’s had to oversee a lot of the arrangements, all while dealing with the shock not just of Sara’s death, but the manner of it as well. Nobody ever thinks they’re going to die by having a brick-filled pumpkin shoved in their face, after all.
But this is a taxing day for Betty Grainger for a second reason: it’s arguably the biggest day of the year for the pub and one of the most hotly anticipated days of the year for the locals: the evening the lights go on, and the festive season officially begins around these parts.
‘I’m going to miss her,’ she says of Sara, trying and failing to hold back a tear. ‘I can’t believe she’s gone.’
You offer condolences.
Sara and Betty never struck you as especially close sisters, or at least they weren’t for some time. Sara’s return to Causton a few years ago was, Betty explains, something that closed the distance that had opened up between them. She was grateful Sara came back, especially after they lost their mother. Sara and Betty had needed each other.
You make further sympathetic overtures to Betty, but she spends more time looking into her cup of steaming herbal tea than at you. Usually, there’s a bulletproof exterior to her, and she knows that she’s going to find that strength again later. For the minute, she’s doing her best to deal with her loss.
‘I can’t stop long,’ she mumbles. ‘Still so much to do for tonight.’
You’ve only been in Causton a few years yourself, but you know how big a night this evening is for the area.
‘Is someone helping you set things up?’ you enquire.
‘Well, most of the lights were all finished last week. And I’ve had my boys with me today.’
Ah, her sons. Archie Grainger, who you – and everyone – knows, has recently been released from prison. Then Finbar Grainger, known to everyone as Finn, who’s just returned home from university for Christmas.
She keeps her attention on the pub and its lights. ‘Wish we’d had more time to test everything,’ she remarks. ‘No matter how early we start planning, there’s always a job left that needs doing. Harder this week, of course, what with Sara dying …’
Tears flow. You dig out a clean tissue and hand it to Betty, and she gratefully takes it, mopping her eyes.
Even the sternest of Causton residents would have understood if she’d cancelled the lights switch-on party. But that’s not Betty’s way. Even when her mother owned the Windy Dog, the mantra was always the show must go on, no matter what.
Betty’s attention seems to drift away as you keep talking, and you figure it’s time to make tracks. ‘Do come along later,’ she weakly smiles, as you make your farewell.
Like you have a choice. The Chief Inspector has volunteered you and DS Lambie to attend. DS Lambie’s already told you he’s got a cast-iron excuse, and managed to get out of it. You know it’ll just be you going along again.
Talking of the Chief Inspector, you’d best not keep her waiting any longer. You need to know what information she’s got hold of. Go to 128.
You need a good reason to leave Causton in the middle of an active murder investigation, but you figure that this is it: a tangible lead on the poisoned food. You grab some of the rudimentary testing equipment from the station, and drive up to Moore Farm. You know it’s going to be a six-hour round trip, but you also know you have to surprise them: if they know you’re coming, you can hardly do a random test on their produce.
Traffic is not on your side, though: it takes you four hours to get there, having stood still at roadworks an hour out of Causton.
A bearded man called John hears your car approach and steps out to greet you. It’s a small business without a shop to it, so he’s not used to visitors. You hear his dogs barking in the background.
You introduce yourself, and he looks surprised, but not unwelcoming. He takes you into the main warehouse area, and shows you his fresh fruit and vegetables. That, and a collection of other natural products.
‘Test anything you like,’ he says. He’s not affronted by your surprise arrival. If anything, he looks pleased of the opportunity to completely clear himself.
Which is what happens. He gives you a bag of his best plums to keep you company as you get to work. Your testing kit is basic, you’re well aware of that, but after two hours in John Moore’s company – and he insists on keeping old records playing on his turntable in the background – you’re pretty certain he’s got nothing to answer.
You, however? Well, that’s different. As you step back into your car for the long drive home, it’s an irate Chief Inspector who calls, and – roughly translated – wants to know ‘where the hell you are,’ or words to that effect.
She not very patiently explains that she has an active investigation and her lead officer has left the county on a wild goose chase.
It’s an even longer journey home, too, compounded by the fact that the roadworks take twice as long to get through. When you finally arrive back in Causton, late into the evening, you glance at your phone to see a note from the boss.
This, she tells you, is no longer your case. She needs someone she can count on. And that, bluntly, isn’t you.
Still, the plums were nice.
Go to p.313 to read your performance review.
Sara McLower’s car had been missing for a little while now, and it was surprising it hadn’t been discovered before. Mind you, it wasn’t the most reliable of vehicles, even when it was out and about. It seemed to spend half its time in for repair.
Her murder, anyway, looked uncomplicated. Checks were made as to the location of her vehicle, but no joy … at least, until now.
It’s 40 minutes along narrow country lanes to even get close to where it’s ended up, a good way out of Causton. After you’ve driven to the outskirts of Northfield Wood, you park up next to DS Lambie’s vehicle. He got here first. Still, it’s a 15-minute walk to get to the car itself, and it’s DS Lambie who has to point it out to you. Someone made quite the effort to hide it, driving over the tree-lined hills. Surely someone saw or heard something?
Or maybe not. It’s daytime now, early afternoon on a Friday, and the place feels secluded and empty. The morning dog walkers are long gone. In fact, it’s thanks to a dog walker the car was found at all. They let their hound off its lead this morning, and it ran off. It took them a good hour or two to find the dog, and in turn they discovered the car. Obscured by a thick bush, you have to look twice yourself to spot it. It could have remained undiscovered for weeks further.
‘He’s a good dog,’ explains Derek James, still looking a little exhausted from his long search for his pet. He knows you’re not r. . .
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
