Murder in Siena

T A Williams

Description

The BRAND NEW instalment in bestselling author T. A. Williams' Armstrong and Oscar cozy mystery series!

A brand-new cozy crime series set in gorgeous Tuscany...It's murder in paradise!

A lazy weekend in the country…

Dan Armstrong and the new love of his life, Anna, are heading to a hotel deep in the gorgeous Tuscan countryside for a long weekend, looking forward to some time away from the stresses of their day jobs. With the beautiful and historic city of Siena just around the corner, it promises to be relaxing and enjoyable. What could possibly go wrong?

A mutilated body…

But when a mutilated body is discovered in the hotel grounds Dan is called in to help with the investigation. But who or what could have been responsible for such a vicious attack? Was it the work of wild animals, or is there a brutal murderer at large?

A killer who cried wolf?

Dan knows he is dealing with a clever killer – whether two- or four-legged! And as he sets out to solve the case he begins to worry about his own loyal canine companion. Could Oscar be in more danger than any of the other hotel guests or is a murderer trying to cover their tracks?

It's another case for Dan and Oscar to solve!

A gripping new murder mystery series by bestselling author T.A. Williams, perfect for fans of Lee Strauss and Beth Byers.

Praise for T.A. Williams!

"The perfect combination of character, setting and plot, heralding an addictive new cozy mystery series!" Bestselling author Debbie Young

"Watching unassuming detective Dan Armstrong weddle the truth out of folks is great fun. Highly Entertaining read!" Bestselling author Kelly Oliver.

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Policier
• Thriller
• Mashups
• Private Investigators
• World Literature
• Thrillers
• Siena
• Tuscany
• 21st century
• Friendship
• Cozy
• Italy
• My Last Duchess
• Animals
• Crime
• Sienne
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 01 août 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781804832455
• Langue: English

Extrait

MURDER IN SIENA


T. A. WILLIAMS
CONTENTS



Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23


More from T. A. Williams

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by T. A. Williams

Poison & Pens

About Boldwood Books
To Mariangela who reads every word I write and helps me so much, and to Christina who likes a good whodunnit.
With love as always.
PROLOGUE
FRIDAY EVENING

My first ever book signing was quite an occasion. My new publishers had somehow managed to take over one of the biggest bookshops in central London for a champagne reception – well, Prosecco really, but it tasted all right to me. The event took place at the end of March and it soon emerged that I was piggybacking on the official launch of a new romance by one of the best-known romantic fiction authors of the day, who also happened to be with the same publishers. The fact that I had never heard of her wouldn’t have surprised my ex-wife. She used to complain that I didn’t have a romantic bone in my body.
There were three of us: me with the first of my murder mysteries, a glamorous blonde woman who wrote kids’ books, and the grey-haired, female author of the bestselling romances. The cover of her book featured a ginger-haired hunk stripped to the waist and boasting the sort of muscles that only come with hours in the gym and probably consumption of some dodgy substances. The title indicated that he was a duke who lived in a castle. This appeared to be haunted by a well-endowed young female ghost – or more probably a real woman wearing a diaphanous nightie. Certainly, it looked very different from the menacing, dark red and black cover of my book, Death Amid the Vines – not my choice of title but I had been assured by my editor that this would be popular with crime aficionados. Considering that the publishers had been good enough to take me on as an untried new writer, who was I to complain?
We each had a table and it came as no surprise to find that the queue in front of the romance writer was a lot longer than mine. Also, her queue consisted almost exclusively of women, while mine was made up of an unexpectedly large contingent of my former workmates in the Metropolitan police, many of them male. As far as I could tell, the author of Uncle Jack’s Stories of Walter the Lonely Wolf had attracted far fewer customers, but maybe that was because most of the kids were at home at this time of night. At my side was Tricia, my daughter, and she did a great job of making sure that I didn’t keep people waiting and didn’t drink too much Prosecco.
I was particularly touched to see that one of the first people in my line was none other than my one-time sergeant, now Inspector Wilson, from the days when I had been at Scotland Yard, and he was clutching no fewer than three copies of Death Amid the Vines . I stood up and greeted him warmly. He and I went way back and if this had been Italy, I would have hugged him but, seeing as we were British, we made do with a hearty handshake.
‘Hi, Paul, it’s good of you to come.’
‘Hello, sir… Dan. Sorry, old habits.’ He blushed and transferred his attention to Tricia. ‘Good evening, Ms Armstrong.’ His blushes increased and I remembered being told of a rumour going round the station a few years back that he had been sweet on her. She was now engaged to be married so he would appear to have missed his chance, but she shot him a winning smile all the same.
‘Hi, Paul, and it’s Tricia, remember? It’s good to see you again.’
We chatted briefly and I asked him if he might be able to hang around for an hour or so until I finished my signing duties, after which we could go for a meal together. ‘After all the help you’ve given me since I set up as a private investigator, buying you a good meal is the very least I can do.’ There had been a number of occasions since settling in Italy almost two years earlier that I had called upon him for help, which he had generously provided.
He shook his head regretfully. ‘Wish I could, but just now while I was waiting in the queue, I got a call. It looks like a fourteen-year-old has just stabbed a sixteen-year-old and I need to go and see what’s what.’
I gave him a sympathetic smile in return. It sounded all too familiar and I was very pleased that resignation from the force and my move to Tuscany had distanced me from this sort of insanity. ‘How is business? No shortage of villains or victims, I imagine.’
‘Afraid not. Still, by the sound of it, you’ve been getting quite a bit of excitement over there in Italy, haven’t you?’
‘I’m being kept busy but, thankfully, most of my work these days is unfaithful husbands and jealous wives or vice versa. I’m told it’s because the quality of Italian television is so poor, there’s nothing else for them to do. I’m only here for tonight as I have work waiting for me back in Florence, but why don’t you come over to Italy some time and see for yourself? I’ve got a spare room at my place that you’re welcome to have, and that way you can meet my new best friend, Oscar.’
‘That’s the big, black Labrador you sent me a photo of? Thanks for the offer; I might well take you up on it when I manage to get some time off.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Sorry, but now I need to head off. Can you sign one book to Maureen – that’s my mum – and one to George, my uncle. The other one’s for me.’
I did as requested and added a note above my signature on his copy saying,


To the best detective in the business from an old copper and friend.
And he definitely qualified on all counts.
In fact, it was probably just as well that he hadn’t been able to stick around as I found that the signing took almost two hours. It was past eight o’clock when the line in front of my desk finally dried up and one of the shop assistants came to tell me that they had closed the doors. There were still a dozen or so hopefuls queuing in front of the romance lady so I wandered over to see how the children’s author had got on. On the rare occasions when I had been able to look up from my work, I hadn’t seen many people where she was, but she greeted me with a big smile all the same.
‘Hi there, Dan. Or is that your nom de plume ? I’m Uncle Jack – although my real name’s Freja Blomqvist. Do I look like an Uncle Jack?’
The answer to that one was no, unless Uncle Jack had a taste for smart women’s dresses and gold jewellery. Freja/Jack was a very good-looking woman probably in her forties, with a cascade of pale-blonde hair that perfectly framed what was a pretty perfect face. She spoke excellent English with just a hint of a Scandinavian accent.
‘Hi, Uncle Jack, but it’s hard trying to think of you as my uncle. Good to meet you, and yes, at least my name’s my own even if the title of my book isn’t. What about you? Do you at least get to choose your own title?’
Freja nodded. ‘Walter the wolf is all my own invention. Did I hear that you used to be a detective?’
‘That’s right; here in London, but I now live and work in Italy. Ever been there?’
‘A few times and funnily enough, I’ll be there again in just over a week. My day job is working in the zoology department at Stockholm University and I’ll be taking part in a symposium in Italy for a few days.’ She gave me another of those alluring smiles and I had to remind myself that I had a wonderful girlfriend waiting for me back in Florence. ‘I don’t think I’ve sold more than a dozen books tonight, but six o’clock in the evening in central London probably wasn’t the best time to bring in the mums and their kids. How about you? How’s the book selling?’
We chatted for a while and I took a liking to this woman who was obviously eminent in her own field as well as having the imagination to branch out into a second career as an author.
Before long, the last of the romance books were finally signed and my editor, Suzanne, appeared and took me by the elbow while Tricia went off to call her fiancé. ‘That was great, Dan. You managed to bring in a good number of readers. There’s somebody here who’s been waiting to see you. She’s a journalist and she says she knows you. Wouldn’t it be great if she did an article about you?’ She glanced across at Freja ‘We’ll all have time for a good chat over dinner.’
I bade farewell to Freja/Uncle Jack just as her editor, a mumsy-looking lady with half-lens glasses balanced on the end of her nose, arrived to take her under her wing. As Suzanne led me across to meet the journalist, she reassured me that the company were very pleased with sales of Death Amid the Vines so far – it had only been out for three weeks – and outlined the plans they had to promote it to even better things. This all came as a great relief as, since it was my first ever book, I had had no idea how it would be received.
Across the shop floor, sitting on a tiny chair in the children’s books department, was a familiar face, and seeing her brought a host of memories flooding back – few of them pleasant, but that wasn’t her fault. As a crime reporter, Jess Barnes had covered some of the goriest murders in the capital over the last twenty years or so and I had lost count of the number of times I had bumped into her in the less salubrious areas of the city, where gangland violence had repeatedly shown its face. She jumped up as she caught sight of me and surprised me by rushing over and giving me a hug and a smacker of a kiss. Seeing my surprise, she stepped back and grinned.
‘It’s all right, Chief Inspector, I’m allowed to kiss you now that you’ve retired.’
I smiled back. ‘If I’d realised that was what was holding you back, I’d have retired years ago. It’s good to see you again, Jess, and it’s just Dan these days, not Chief Inspec