Today, I am launching A Killing in Kensington, the second mystery in the Patrick Shea series. Here is the blurb from Amazon:
Detective Sergeant Patrick Shea of London's Metropolitan Police and his new partner, Detective Chief Inspector Tommy Boyle, have been handed a high-profile murder case. In the penthouse of Kensington Tower, playboy Clifton Trentmore lay dead with his head bashed in, and the investigation reveals a man who was loathed by both sexes. With too few clues and too many suspects, Shea and Boyle must determine who hated Trentmore enough to kill him. But as Patrick digs deeper, he finds his suspects have secrets of their own.If you enjoy Law and Order UK, you will enjoy A Killing in Kensington.
To celebrate the launch, I am giving away two e-books, either Kindle or Nook. All you have to do is leave a comment and an e-mail address where I can contact you by Sunday, October 14. Winners will be announced on October 15.
To whet your appetite, her is an excerpt from Chapter 2:
Patrick
studied the profile of the prostrate Trentmore. The dead man was in his early
to mid fifties, tall, lean, with a full head of dyed blond hair and sagging
jowls. When struck, he had been holding a whiskey glass that went flying
through space, emptying its content onto the wood floor. A formal dinner
jacket, hung over the back of the couch, indicated that the victim had been out
at some time during the evening. After removing his shoes and opening his tie,
he had poured himself a drink in preparation for settling in for the evening,
but that was when the killer had come calling.
“Who
found the body?” Patrick asked a detective constable standing behind him.
“Diane
Namur, the chief financial officer of Trentmore World Imports,” Detective
Constable Jane Millard said, handing Patrick Miss Namur’s business card.
“Where
is Miss Namur?” Patrick asked, looking around the flat.
Wearing
an uncomfortable look, DC Millard explained that because Miss Namur had been
sick in the loo, she had been allowed to leave after agreeing to an interview
the next day.
“Miss
Namur couldn’t stop crying, sobbing actually, very near hysterical,” the
constable explained. “She kept saying ‘no,’ ‘no,’ ‘no,’ over and over, and then
she got sick. It seems she had stepped in the victim’s blood. We believe those
are her shoeprints in the blood trail.”
“Yes,
and they’ve been bagged and tagged by SOCO. Before leaving, she told us how she
found the body, but anything else…,” she said, shaking her head. “It just
wasn’t possible. But we were able to get hold of Trentmore’s driver, Charles
Wyatt. I spoke with him thirty minutes ago, and he’s on his way here.”
“Thank
you, DC Millard,” Patrick said, smiling. He wanted to reassure her that her
decision to allow Miss Namur to leave had been the right one. Vomiting
witnesses were rarely helpful. “We’ll contact Miss Namur in the morning.”