Mystery on Hidden Lane

Book 1: An Eve Mallow Mystery

by Clare Chase

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Animal Cozy Mysteries; Culinary Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

‘Stunning... loved the story and the pacing and just everything about it... a great story that I couldn't put down... The twists and turns were great and I can't wait for the next one.' Crossroad Reviews

When Bernard Fitzpatrick drowns in a river close to his home, the village mourns a tragic accident... and amateur sleuth Eve Mallow is on the case.

Obituary writer Eve is looking forward to her new assignment, as well as spending a few days in the sweet little village of Saxford St Peter, walking the country lanes with her beloved dachshund Gus. But it turns out that it's Bernard's death that she'll need to investigate, not his life. On the day she arrives, news breaks that the world-famous cellist was the victim of a grisly murder. Could this quaint English village be hiding a dark secret?

As Eve starts to interview Bernard's friends and colleagues, she finds that he'd ruffled more than a few feathers. In fact, from the landlords of the Cross Keys Inn to his own seemingly devoted secretary, there's barely a person in town who doesn't have some reason to hate him... is one of the friendly villagers really a cold-blooded killer?

Eve hoped Saxford St Peter would be the perfect escape from her busy city life. But there is darkness even in the most sunlit of settings. And when a second body is found, Eve realises she's spoken to every single suspect. Her notebook contains all the clues she needs. But will she be able to crack the case and identify them... before they realise she's on their trail and make her their next target?

An unputdownable page-turner, perfect for fans of Faith Martin, Agatha Christie and Betty Rowlands.

What readers are saying about Mystery on Hidden Lane:

‘Drags the reader right into the plot from day one. She writes so vividly... I can almost imagine I'm on the dunes walking Gus, an inspiration of a dog that steals the show. The plot is strong... A Marplesque amateur sleuth.' Jenny O'Brien ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘I really enjoyed reading this! Loved the typical English village location and the very Jessica Fletcher-type protagonist... I am anxious to read more of this character soon!' Goodreads Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘I thoroughly enjoyed it... loved the setting... I was reminded of a modern-day Miss Marple.' Goodreads Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘A cast of characters who are inviting and warm. I love Eve, and the people she befriends in this small village as she digs for the truth... I'm happy to highly recommend this writer and her books!' Roxx is Reading ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘A wonderful beginning to a new mystery series!... I love that the main character's job is an obituary writer – how unique and creative' Goodreads Reviewer

‘Loved it... a very good whodunnit... And she has a long-haired dachshund ;)' Goodreads Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘I love cozy mysteries and Mystery on Hidden Lane is the first book in a new series that I just know that I will enjoy. Eve's character is perfect, the setting is ideal and the mysteries abound.' Robin Loves Reading

‘Brilliant... I can't wait to read the next instalment.' Goodreads Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘What a perfect and brilliant start to a great new series!... I am eagerly anticipating what Clare Chase has in store for Eve next! Brianne's Book Reviews ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘Very enjoyable... gripping... leaves you looking forward to the next' NetGalley Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘Excellent cozy mystery. A real page turner. Kept me entertained all the way through' NetGalley Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘Hits the ground running... I loved it!... And of course Gus is an excellent side-kick!... A cracking series opener... left me hankering for more' Goodreads Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Release date: January 30, 2020

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 305

Sample

ONE

Eve Mallow sat amongst marram-grass-topped sand dunes, still in the clothes she’d worn for the drive up from London. She’d spent ,most of the journey feeling hot, stale and cranky, thanks to the sudden failure of her car’s air con. The traffic had been nose-to-tail until she was well outside the capital. How had she still managed to arrive at her destination an hour ahead of time? It always happened – it was as though she defied the laws of physics. Once she had a job on, she could never bring herself to delay getting started. It didn’t matter that it was too early to check into the rental cottage she’d reserved – a last-minute arrangement, only finalised the day before. Waiting on the beach wasn’t a hardship, and it was a relief to be out in the open air.

She’d taken the time to size up the Suffolk village of Saxford St Peter before she’d walked through the woods and heathland to reach the coast. Apart from the Cross Keys pub and a teashop and craft market called Monty’s, there was just a small place selling groceries. The notice on the door announced sternly that it was never open after 5 p.m. and shut mush earlier on Wednesdays and Sundays. Worrying. Still, it looked as though she would be fine for beer, cake and pre-packed bread. She guessed she’d have to plan ahead if she wanted to cook something more adventurous. But she’d come prepared; in her car was a box containing pesto, pasta and parmesan cheese, gin, tonic and dog food. The essentials. And then she’d added a few extras too. But she would only be here for ten days, in any case.

Gus, her wire-haired dachshund, had clearly been pleased to leave their vehicle behind too. She’d let him off his leash as they’d approached the beach, snaking their way along the narrow path through the heathland. He’d dashed off up the shingle-strewn sand, wet black nose pointed determinedly into the wind, ears flung back by the breeze and his speedy enthusiasm.

Eve closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun in the shelter of the dunes. The last couple of weeks had set her nerves on edge. Ian, her ex-husband, had called round two days earlier – to ‘check she was okay’. Again. He did it quite regularly, even though they’d been living apart for a year now. He’d walked out on her – and yes, it had come as a shock at the time. But she’d acclimatised surprisingly quickly. How often did she have to tell him she was fine? Was he hoping he could take her tales of woe back to his new girlfriend, so that they could enjoy feeling sorry for her over a glass of Shiraz?

She took a deep breath and focused on the gull’s cries, which overlaid the sound of the waves slapping against the shore, then pulling back, rhythmic and lulling. It was time to let go, and concentrate on the reason she’d come to the village. Writing an obituary of Bernard Fitzpatrick, the world-famous cellist who’d accidently drowned in the River Sax, ought to be fascinating. Eve loved her work - interviewing the living to unearth the secrets of the dead was both challenging and satisfying. She slipped off her flip-flops and felt the grains of sand and small, soft pebbles under her feet as she wriggled her toes.

Until she heard voices, hushed and urgent, she hadn’t realised how well hidden she was below the level of the dunes. A man and woman. They must be close behind her – standing just above the beach on the edge of the heath. Should she leap up like a jack-in-a-box, to make sure they knew they weren’t alone? But before she had the chance to decide, she was absorbed in their conversation.

“I saw your face.” The man’s voice was hard; barely controlled. “just after we heard.”

Eve wiggled down further into the dunes, her stomach knotting. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to overhear – she could already tell it was private – but it felt too late to declare herself.

“What are you saying? That there was something wrong with my response? Hell, Andrew – this isn’t the kind of thing that happens every day! I don’t have an off-the-peg expression lined up for this sort of circumstance.” The woman spat out.

There was a pause. “You looked upset, but I know you – rather too well. You’ve been acting oddly for a long time now. I’m fed up with your lies!” His voice has risen, and he stopped abruptly. When he spoke again, he’d managed to rein himself in. “I could see you weren’t one hundred percent surprised at the news.” It was clearly an accusation.

After a long moment, the woman answered. “you’re on edge. You’re reading too much into all this.” Her voice was much softer now, and overlaid with sympathy. It sounded overdone – wheedling. “I know I haven’t been my usual self, but things will be different now, I promise.”

“I’ve heard that before. I’m not a fool.”

“OW! Stop it! You’re hurting me!” She spoke over his last words.

What was happening? Eve eased round. Her mobile has a signal. She could intervene or call the police if she needed to.

But a moment later the man apologised, and the woman spoke again. “I want us to be happy. We were once. We can work at it, can’t we, darling?”

For a moment there was silence, apart from the cries of the gulls.

“one last chance, eh?” the man said eventually. “All right. All right. But don’t even think about messing me around again. You know what will I’m capable of if you do.”

It sounded as though the woman needed to get out of the relationship – and fast.

At that moment, Gus bounded into view, and her voice rang out, higher in pitch now. “who does that dog belong to? Is there someone on the beach?”

Eve sat absolutely still, desperately hoping that Gus wouldn’t give her away. She leaned back as far as she could and held her breath.

The dachshund dashed past without paying her any attention, but she didn’t relax.

The woman’s voice came again, “We should get out of here. Someone must be about. Come on.”

A second later, the man and woman descended onto the beach a little way north of where Eve was concealed and walked off up the coast – stiffly, with their shoulders hunched. He looked older than her, with thick mid-grey hair. Hers fell into red ringlets, well below her shoulders – the neat top and fitted capri trousers she wore showed off her figure, which was pure 1950s Hollywood.

Only when they were well on their was did Eve slide forward again. She felt shaky after the exchange she’d heard.

Gus, who was bounding back up the beach, spotted her, did a handbrake turn and launched himself into her lap. Wet paws. Nice. He must have been in the sea since she’d seen him last.

She gathered herself, brushing the sand off her jeans and slipping her flip-flops back on. It was time to return to the village. She’d been told she could check into the cottage after four. As she snatched up Gus’s lead, she wondered about the couple – and if she’d see them again. She was worried for the woman; the man had sounded so threatening. Yet it had been she who’d sounded scared at being overheard.

Eve shook her head. At least they hadn’t spotted her; if she did come across them again. She’d have to work out what to do. It felt wrong not to say something to the woman – to pitch in and try and help. As an obituary writer she was well versed in assessing people. She’d interviewed surviving friends and relatives experiencing all kinds of emotions; their reactions to a death could be dramatic as well as fascinating, depending on the dynamics involved. She knew trouble when she saw it. But the situation was complicated, and the woman might not welcome interference. It sounded as though she had something to hide…