Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

“No one is coming forward to introduce me, so I suppose it’s down to me.

I met Charlie Fletcher while working on the hotel renovation. I knew who she was, but she didn’t know about me, and I wanted to keep it that way.

I knew all about her sister, too, but I kept that information to myself.

The hotel was far from finished, so when Charlie offered to help, against my better judgment, I was pleased to accept. Even though I knew I would be risking everything.

That was when life became very complicated.

A body was found buried in the basement of the hotel. I was arrested for murder, but until they identified the body, I was safe for the moment…

At least I thought I was safe, away from prying eyes. But fate loves to interfere.

So, when Charlie Fletcher walked into the hotel, I didn’t want to be polite, for all those secrets from the past had come back to haunt me. I needed to watch my step, as the truth must not surface.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t get on with her sister again and return to London. That would suit me fine…”

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I had fun writing about this character. I liked him, and couldn’t quite believe he was capable of murder.

I wonder what you will make of him?

excerpt from The Mystery of Folly’s End

It was a corner property, the edge of the building rounded in the Art Deco style. In contrast to its neighbours, this hotel looked old, forgotten and rather sad. The once-white paint was dingy and decaying, with weeds sprouting from every crack. There was an old nameplate propped on the front steps, so badly faded I couldn’t read it. The hotel looked abandoned and deserted. Surely, no one had been there in a very long time. An old ‘For Sale’ sign lay across the front steps.

I walked up these steps to the double doors of the front entrance and gave them a shove, but they were locked tight. Optimistically, I knocked on the glass panel and waited. I knocked again, rapidly coming to the conclusion that the hotel really was deserted.

I wandered around the corner of the road into the side street to see if there was another entrance. I found a double set of doors, and one of them was open. I put my head around the open door and announced my presence.

‘Hello… anyone there?’ There was a workbench covered in tools in the cluttered yard and the strong smell of wood shavings. I wasn’t sure what I thought would happen next, but my heart flipped when a man’s voice answered me. Was I about to meet this Stuart Rankin?

A tall man dressed in overalls with a mass of curly auburn hair and wood shavings clinging to the legs of his trousers appeared. ‘Well… what do you want?’

I hesitated, suddenly unsure of my mission. I decided to take the proverbial bull by the horns. ‘Are you Stuart Rankin?’

He looked me up and down before answering. Then, with a smirk and a faint Irish lilt, he replied, ‘And what if I am?’

‘I’m Angela Watson’s sister. Could you help me with information on the business accounts?’

‘Nope. Nothing to do with me.’ He turned away and picked up a hammer. If this was meant as a threat, it worked well. He stood there, passing the hammer from one hand to another as he waited for me to leave.

‘Well, I can’t find any account books, so if you don’t have them, maybe you know who does?’

He put the hammer down, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

‘There is an accountant. Come inside while I find his number.’ He vanished inside the building, leaving me to follow.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the hotel’s interior was a complete surprise. I was standing in the entrance hall leading to the foyer. It had been completely renovated, and even in the dim light, I could see the Victorian splendour returning. As an interior designer, I could appreciate how much work had been done and done very well.

‘Wow!’

‘I like wow…’ The voice came from behind me and made me jump. I turned and saw him standing there with his hands on his hips and a cheeky grin.

‘This is wonderful. You would never guess it could be like this, not from the outside.’

‘The plan was to leave the outside until last…’

I debated whether to say anything else, but it was too late. The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it. ‘Did Tom do any of this?’

‘Not lately, he hasn’t. How is the old devil anyway?’

My heart sank when I realised he didn’t know that Tom was dead. Hadn’t my sister contacted him at all?

He must have seen something on my face, for he stepped towards me. ‘What is it, has something happened?’