This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Chris Karlsen will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Blurb:
Henrietta Newell stormed into the detective bureau. She claimed her adult son was missing and feared for his safety. The detectives attempted to reassure her that the absence of a bachelor in his thirties, in a city like London, wasn’t extraordinary. Despite their efforts, she insisted an investigation be conducted, reminding them of her political connections.
Detective Rudyard Bloodstone and his partner were told to look into the matter. Their investigation reveals evidence of suspicious and unusual activity but no clues regarding the man’s disappearance. The few leads they develop take them from the world of wealthy families and into the secret society of sexual peculiarities.
The detectives discover the victim didn’t simply disappear. He was murdered. They have the evidence except for one problem, they’re missing the victim’s body.
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Read an Excerpt
Newell counted to one hundred out of excess of caution in case Eric and Leo remained nearby. At one-hundred he stood by the door, delayed for a couple of seconds, searching for a way to open the door. His vision, cut off by the bag when they hustled him into the room, he was unaware the knob had been removed.
Newell kicked the lock housing. The door didn’t budge. He took a few steps back to build momentum and kicked the lock again. The force knocked him on his bum and sent a shock wave of pain from his ankle to his knee. He scrambled to his feet and, gave his kicking leg a few good jerks, hoping to shake off the pain. He couldn’t say why he thought that would help other than he’d seen workmen shake limbs after hurting themselves.
The effort didn’t ease the pain. No point in repeating another kick. He took the only option left and screamed for help.
No one came.
Outside, drunks shouted challenges and curses to each other. London was never truly quiet. The seedier the neighborhood, the louder the inhabitants. Foot traffic along the river was constant, increasing during the day, but still busy at night. Surely, someone should hear him. He yelled, loud as he could.
Nothing.
He shouted for help again and again.
No one came.
Newell’s throat felt like he’d swallowed broken glass when he finally stopped for the night. Exhausted, he curled up on the cold floor and tried to sleep. Every part of his back ached. Shoulders to his tailbone throbbed like he’d been beaten with an iron rod. The pain traveled and no matter how he positioned himself, his calves and thighs cramped. When he had found a sliver of comfort, rest continued to escape him. Questions plagued his thoughts. After a while he sat up with his arms wrapped around his knees and his head pressed to them.
Another gust of fetid air from the river wafted through the only window. Three millennia of foul matter, human and otherwise, hung like a cloud over the room. He idly wondered if there was ever a time the Thames wasn’t a filthy cesspit.
“Bloody hell.” To escape the worst of the stink, Newell moved to the far corner and slid down the wall to sit on the floor.
Initially, with all the daytime activity around the river, Newell didn’t think Eric could keep him prisoner for long. Someone would discover what Eric had done. A day passed and then another passed. He still hoped he’d be heard. He removed a shoe and pounded the wall that bordered the wharf. Between hits he and screamed and screamed, “Help me, please. Someone, help me. I’m locked inside. Help me.”
No one heard or if they did, they had no desire to heed the call. Still, someone should’ve been curious enough to investigate but who knew how thick the brick walls were? Eric was clever. It wouldn’t surprise Phillip if Eric had tested how well a scream traveled.
Newell lay in a fetal position on the floor, shivering. He began to sob as he waited for Eric’s return, waiting to beg for release. He was weeping when Eric finally arrived.
About the Author:
Chris is a Chicago native who grew up with a love of history and books.
Passionate about traveling her travels have taken her Europe, the Near East, and North Africa, in addition to most of the United States.
Chris spent twenty-five years in law enforcement with two agencies. Harboring a strong desire to write, upon retiring, Chris decided to pursue her desire. She writes three different series. Her Bloodstone series, which is set in Victorian London, features homicide Detective Rudyard Bloodstone.
She currently lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and four wild and crazy rescue dogs.
Connect with Chris Karlsen
Giveaway:
$20 Amazon/BN GC
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