Murder Mystery Monday celebrates some of the best indie murder mystery fiction that we’ve found. This week we look at The Lakeland Murders by JJ Salkeld

The Lakeland Murders are set in Cumbria, the beautiful Lake District in the north west of England. But if the setting is wonderfully scenic the stories are hard-nosed and gripping.
They are police procedurals and have a very contemporary ‘of their time’ feel as the author reflects the issues of the day such as the squeeze on police funding and tackling such tricky topics as county lines (where children and young people are used by criminal gangs to sell drugs in small towns and villages).

To quote the author: ‘If plot is what piques our interest in a crime novel it’s the characters that keep us reading’. The real strength of this series – and indeed of all this author’s other series – lies in the characters. Characters such as:

DI Andy Hall – Andy is not a man of action and well into middle age (he is 48 at the start of the series), but he has a high EQ as well as a high IQ and that makes him able to both empathise and to deduce. He is known to be cleverer than his superiors and gets into trouble for being so.

Jane Francis – who joins the team at the beginning of the series from her previous career as a research scientist and is a counterpoint to Andy Hall. He works more on the classic ‘gut’ backed up by police work where Jane is trained in all the latest methods of crime-busting.

Ian Mann – ex-marine special forces, Ian is the tough guy who is from the same kind of background as most of the criminals he has to deal with but chose a very different path in life.

Sandy Smith – the go-to CSI for our Kendal cops who is best approached bearing coffee and doughnuts unless you want your head bitten off.

Abla Khan – who joins the series later on and has both an incisive mind and a fearless approach to getting into dangerous situations.

The books are a wonderful mix of mystery, action, human engagement and humour and you read on as much to follow the characters from book to book as to enjoy each case, all of which are complex, multilayered and thought-provoking.

The writing is not pristine. There are faults and flaws you might not find in books produced by a publisher. Typos occasionally creep on the page, now and then we hop heads and sometimes you wonder why when only two people are in a conversation they have to keep calling each other by name. But these are truly minor issues set against the sweep of the drama and mystery.

If you enjoy whodunnits and great characters this is a series you should take a closer look at.

You can start the series with any book, but the best introduction to the series is probably through the series prequel The Two Towns which is novella length, and reading them in order gives the full sweep of the characters’ stories as well.

The biggers were behaving very oddly. None of them were leaving the homestead, and only the house biggers came into the garden. Even the cement pond shining bluely in the sunshine wasn’t attracting its usual crowd of screaming divers.
The gnomes wouldn’t have bothered, had not the small biggers come out into the garden and put paper masks on all their faces.
The head bigger laughed.
“Don’t want the little folks getting Covid 19.”
The next morning the biggers discovered the gnomes gathered together on the island in the middle of the duckpond.
Eric’s placard read.
“Social distancing. Keep away.”

Jane Jago

Roguing Thieves is a previously unpublished Fortune’s Fools story by E.M. Swift-Hook.

It was another cycle before Dekker made good on his offer. A cycle during which Pan kept herself focused on being what they wanted her to be. She realised that the pirates were not so very different from the freetraders they prayed upon. They lurched from payday to payday making enough to get by and always dreaming of the big one that would let them retire. But unlike most freetraders they didn’t mind killing to get there.
By half way through that second cycle, she was no longer watched by human eyes at least, but she did nothing untoward.
The upgrades on the interceptor were as good as she could get them and the burnt planet hopper had been repaired to space worthy status. Most ships were worth next to nothing to these pirates. Handling stolen vessels was a highly skilled trade. But Pan had been able to peel off this ship’s command ID and fit a masking one. It would need a specialist to finish the work, but Dekker was delighted as it meant they could sell it on for a better price than usual.
When he returned from doing so he was in such a good mood that he clapped Tolin and herself hard on the back.
“Go and have fun, children. Find us something worth hunting.”

Pan hadn’t realised it before, but she was beginning to feel at home in FTL space. It was safe. Nothing could reach into the womb of the ship to threaten her. Not even link communications could disturb her until they dropped out into the traffic stream of their destination world. And when they did, the first communication was from Jennay updating her with family news. Kiona was nearing the end of her time in education and looking to use her qualification in social-neurocology to make a career in public relations. The twins were reviewing their options whether or not to go into higher education and Jennay and her wife were expecting a baby. That last was the one thing that brought a genuine smile to Pan’s face. Having raised four children already, she was very sure Jennay would make a wonderful mother for a child of her own.
She had been sitting at the small table in the social area, eating a quick meal from the synth as she watched the message and glanced up as Tolin joined her.
“Good news?”
She shrugged and cancelled the screen, suddenly unwilling to share those she cared most about any longer with this man. A man with whom she was so intimate and yet had always been a total stranger. “Just family stuff.”
“You’re lucky to have them.”
He had told her he had no family. That he had inherited his ship from his grandfather, his father having vanished before he was born and his mother having died when he was young. But now Pan wasn’t sure any of that was true. It might well have been made up for her consumption. She no longer cared if it was or not.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked, to move the topic on.
“We do what we always did. Trade some ourselves, chat to the freetraders find out who is going where with what and when, and pass it on to Dek. He’ll maybe pick up one in eight of those we offer, but that’s his call. None of our business.” Tolin smiled and reached over the table to squeeze her hand.
A sudden wave of nausea choked in her throat and she pulled her hand sharply away, covering by faking a coughing fit. It worked that time, but she knew it wasn’t going to fool Tolin for long. He had already wondered why she was avoiding sex and she was running out of excuses.
She had to get away.
But that was easier said than done.
She could go to the CSF and tell them her story. If she was willing to give evidence against Dekker and his crew she might get off lightly herself. Maybe even completely. The problem was, just as she couldn’t send a hapless freetrader to certain doom, she couldn’t bring herself to do the same to Tolin and the others. She might despise them and want to stop them, but it was more than her conscience could bear to have their blood on her hands.
To have anyone’s blood on her hands.
Except if she didn’t stop them, the blood of every freetrader they ever ambushed would be. Ongoing.
It was an impossible dilemma and she resolved it by focusing on the most important first step: she had to get away.
If she didn’t then sooner or later she was going to betray herself and she had little doubt from what she had seen in Dekker’s eyes what that would mean. After she was free, she could think about the second part.

There will be more Roguing Thieves next Sunday…

This isn’t what you think it is
It isn’t an appeal
It doesn’t ask for anything
It’s really no big deal
But if you have a moment
Needs no penny in your purse
There might be better causes
But there are many worse
You could consider gifting
Or giving in charity
You could consider helping out
Or sharing what you see
You might even come to think
This matters just a bit
But not enough to give some more
Or precious time commit
So I’m not asking that you do
I’m only asking for
Two mouse clicks and an autofill
And simply nothing more.

E.M. Swift-Hook

It had got dark and by the time Dai had picked up Bryn it was well past time for the evening meal.
“Don’t worry, Bard, we’ll grab some chips and garum when we’ve done this,” Bryn said cheerfully. “So this woman is a real patrician and she was married to one of the sleaziest of sleazebag bad-boy Romans you could ever come across? You have to wonder how that could happen. I thought them families had all kinds of laws that said unless the entire gens agreed, three augurs all peed purple piss on the kalends and the lares farted ‘Salve Oh Divine Augustus’ in harmony, the marriage wasn’t valid?”
Dai grinned. After the day he had just been through it was good to have Bryn’s caustic humour.
“Something like that,” he agreed. “But maybe our friend Rufus just bribed, conned or blackmailed them all.”
“Poor bloody bitch, if so. Would mean she’d been sold off to a wrong ‘un, a real bad boy.”
This apartment block was almost the twin of the one Dai had visited with Julia earlier that day. The same placid exterior, the same mosaic floors with the same designs. It was like having a bad repeating dream. Except this time there was no corpse to welcome them at the door.  Instead, there was a slightly sleepy looking, extremely beautiful girl. She had light brown hair piled up in a very fashionable style, and the most exquisite blue eyes which were set off by the lapis jewellery she was wearing. Dai regretted that so far they could only see her face on the screen by the door.
“Vigiles?” She barely glanced at the ID Dai offered and did not even ask their names. Dai had the feeling this was something of a routine event in her life. “What’s Roo-Roo done now?”
“Can we come in please, domina?” Dai asked politely. “This is something we need to talk about in person.”
“Well, you could,” she said smiling and then put a ripe strawberry in her mouth and licked the juice off her fingers.
“Uh, thank you,” Dai said, a little uncertain when the door remained closed. The face on the small screen smiled at him.
“You could,” she repeated, “but Roo-Roo would kill me if I had any men in the house when he was away.” She looked very serious.
“This is a very important matter concerning Roo-Roo – concerning your husband, domina. Please let me in, or if you insist I can send for a female vigiles to speak with you?”
Her expression changed and she screwed up her nose as if the very idea disgusted her. It seemed an extreme reaction.
“I’d better hope Roo-Roo doesn’t come home whilst you are here then.”
The apartment was less opulent on the inside than it appeared from outside. There was fine furniture and a couple of pieces of wall art, but it all had a worn look about it. Only the small niche where the lares sat gleamed with what looked to be several gold items, and one penate holding a cornucopia with jewels pouring from it. Dai wondered if he had interrupted her private devotions; as there was a small offering bowl visible and the slight smell of incense.
Octavia must have seen the direction of his gaze, because she walked quickly over to the niche and closed the doors, pulling the beautifully embroidered hanging over them. Then she turned to face the men, standing with her hands clasped behind her, almost looking defiant, as if engaging in the worship of her own household gods in her own house was something less than acceptable.
“I know you’ll think it all silly superstition,” she said, lowering her gaze demurely, “but I find it very comforting.”
Dai felt Bryn stir behind him and give a soft cough of embarrassment.
“Not at all, domina,” Dai told her, wondering how such a naive innocent could have wound up with a cunnus like Urbanus Hostilius Rufus. “Perhaps you would sit down and we can talk, there is something we need to tell you about your husband.”
She smiled and moved to one of the couches, arranging her stola with an easy grace and reclining on it completely, cradling her head on one arm as she looked at them with sky blue eyes.
“He’s in trouble again?”
“I am afraid it is a bit more serious than that. Do you have any friends or family near by? Anyone you could ask to stay with you for a few days?”
Octavia’s eyes glanced involuntarily at one of the inner doors and then looked back to Dai. She had coloured very slightly.
Deo Damnatus, Dai thought and exchanged a brief look with Bryn, she has a lover in the bedroom.
“He’s been arrested?” she sounded surprised.
“No,” Dai said, his tone flat. “I’m afraid he’s been murdered.”
Her mouth opened and she uttered a low cry came which picked up in pitch and intensity until it was a full-blown scream.
Dai found himself beside her, unsure whether he should slap her or hold her. She made the decision for him, sitting up and pulling him close, her hands gripping into his tunic as she almost stifled his face in her bosom.
“My Roo-Roo! My poor Roo-Roo!” she wailed.
With some difficulty, Dai disentangled himself and managed to hand her off to Bryn, who was not at all averse to having a beautiful young woman pressing herself against him as she sobbed.
“I’ll find you some tissues,” Dai said vaguely and moved to the door that Octavia had glanced at before. He was about to open it when she squealed.
“No! Not in there.”
Trusting Bryn to keep her from getting in the way, Dai opened the door to what he fully expected to be a lavish bedroom and a naked young man. Instead it was an undecorated room, with a simple double bed and cardboard boxes stacked up with clothes visible neatly folded in them. On the bed sat an elegantly dressed woman, who got to her feet as soon as she saw Dai. Her designer stola was draped in soft folds of silk about her. It took him a moment to place her, to think where he had seen her before. Then he realised he hadn’t, but he had seen pictures of her and the odd moment on TV when the news was covering some swish event. She had been on the arm of Tribune Decimus Lucius Didero.
Instinctively he bowed his head.
“Domina.”

From Dying to be Roman by Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook 

How can you ask where the years have fled
Have you not felt their wings
Touching like feathers the hair on your head
Have you not heard the music they sing
Do you not remember each sorrow and joy
The textures of pleasure and pain
The leap of the heart when a girl loves a boy
The feeling of winter and rain
Right now you stand in your old person’s skin
A tortoise too far from its shell
Whose mind rattles round like a pea in a tin
And whose voice is as cracked as a bell
I wonder my friend if you ever did find
One hour when you truly did feel
As if you were strong, not the servant of time
That you may have stepped off of the wheel
But no, you were busy, you never looked out
At springtime and wanted to run
You never grasped pain to defiantly shout
Nor stole just a moment for fun
I look at you, old person, alone and bemused
And I’m sad that you wasted your years
That you never had time to be cross, or amused
Or for hope, or for laughter or fears
I will tell you right now where the years have fled
Though you’ll hate me for what I must say
You forgot about life, and the clock in your head
And you just let your time slip away

©️jj 2022

Take a peek into The Lizard Lords of Jupiter the latest masterpiece from the pen of the self-proclaimed queen of exotic sci-fi, Venus N. Uranus.

It seemed that they were only just in time as the doors opened fully. The round-faced woman entered and bowed all but double.
“The Mushir Szzrt.”
Cyrus bowed and Clea curtseyed.
Kerenza kept her eyes on the floor.
“Look at me,” the voice was oddly sibilant, but commanding.
She lifted her eyes and had her first sight of a lizard soldier. Her mouth went dry with fear. He was about seven feet tall with blue scaly skin and a thick muscular neck supporting a narrow reptilian head. He was dressed from neck to ankles in black silk bound with gold, and twin sword hilts were visible over the massive width of his shoulders. The eyes that regarded her with cold antipathy were so light as to be almost white, with vertical pupils and nictating membranes that constantly moved across their surface. He stared at her in silence and she felt a blush rise from her neck to her forehead. After what seemed a very long time the mushir turned his attention to Cyrus.
“Have the high lord’s instructions been obeyed?”
“To the letter, Mushir.”
“And what are your observations, flesh trader?”
“She is a ripe little thing. It would be an honour and a pleasure to break that one to harness.”
“Ssskrrt,” the lizard made a strange noise in his throat. “Indeed.” The sibilant voice was dry. “Is it intact?”
“Yes lord.”
“Display it. I am ordered to ascertain its condition.”
Cyrus snapped his fingers…

A Bite Of… Venus N. Uranus 

We had three questions only to learn a little more of this enigmatic lady.

Question one: How much of yourself is in the heroines of your so-loved books?

Very little. But had you asked how much of my villains lives in my own breast the answer might have been more illuminating.

Question two: What is your favourite indulgence?

Ah. Champagne, I guess. Or possibly silken underwear.

Question three: Chips or doughnuts?

Neither child. One has an aversion to calorific snacks. The figure is above all importances.

At which point we had to retreat to the door as she began throwing shoes at us – shoes with sharpened six-inch stiletto heels…

Other works by Venus:

Animal Passions on the Ark
As the Ark flees a dying earth Captain Twerk and his crew are sucked into a dark sensual vortex from which only the prayers of a thousand virgins can rescue them. As far as we know they are still there… 

Boinking for Freedom
Captain Tumescent Schlong and his Martian sidekick Wan Ka Dribblefloop save the universe with nothing more than KY Jelly and a swivelling hip action

Candles for Callisto 
Two nuns and a redundant space cowboy carry the Candles of Callisto from their hiding place on earth to the Venusian temple where their ignition begins a multiverse-wide orgy that lasts a thousand years

Dominant Destroyer 
Captain Selfie the Daandehoopian Dom and his faithful retainer Whippin’ Winnie beat the universe into submission with the aid of a bullwhip and a large silicone appliance

Katie the Qlingon Kleptomaniac 
Aboard the prison cruiser Thrust, the only way Katie can avoid the attentions of Big Brenda and her blue banana is if she can become the prey of Captain Rutt Bigthong and his dog Sniffa

Marianna and the Testicles of Mars
How a silicone-enhanced glamour model saved the known universe using only the power of her ‘mind’ and a secondhand toothbrush

Neptune’s Nymphos
When the good ship Sphincta lands on Neptune, the male crew members quickly find themselves sold as sex slaves. Heaven? Or Hell? You decide…

Pulling Poseidon 
The starship Donkey Parts is pulled into the orbit of a dark planet. Only the pulchritudinous Petunia Petals and her Venusian nose flute can save the day

Saturnalia on Saturn
Space explorer Thea Throbscuttle may have bitten off more than she can chew when she crash lands her flitter in the middle of a very rowdy midsummer party. Only the satyr Longtongue can save her, but what can she offer him to secure his aid?

The Virgins of Venus
Deep underground in the Caverns of Hi’Men live a thousand young women who have never seen a male in their lives. When the tunnelling machine breaks through the wall of their prison even the prodigious Throb Loverage is forced to flee for his life

Venus is a retired pole dancer and rectal explorer who now earns a living by writing, and knitting decorative merkins for ladies who are bored of their Brazilian. You won’t find her on social media because she is too busy penning her next exotic sci-fi bestseller or participating in the SETI program…

((WTB Ed. Note – We think the underling who put this piece together might have made a repeated typo in their use of  ‘exotic’))

It was getting towards spring and the gnomes watched with mild interest as the biggers came out of the brick place and started their annual frantic scrabble in the soil.
“Why’d they do that stuff?” Camille was watching a female bigger on her hands and knees in a puddle poking what looked like flower bulbs into holes is the cold sodden earth.
“Do what?”
“Kill flowers. I mean, surely they know Mother is still cold and dormant. And that female is planting them bulbs downside up.”
Bertha looked over her spectacles. “It’s a bigger Camille, they truly don’t know nothing.”

Jane Jago

Because life happens…

It isn’t as if we can tell
When life isn’t going to go well
So being prepared
Means you need not be scared
Cos you’ll still find your heaven in hell

E.M. Swift-Hook

…for a moment the silence was blissful. Then the screaming started…
Writing team Leo and Mike Johnson have their day disturbed when a body turns up near their house.

The policewoman turned her attention to Mike and Leo.
‘Look. You don’t have to let the girls stay here. We can take them to the station. We just weren’t about to let them go with that lot.’ Leo looked down into Mike’s face. She shrugged and grinned.
‘You all can stay here if you want. Do you got stuff in the minibus?’
‘We have.’ The younger, and less chunky, WPC sprinted, returning with a grinning Constable and a dozen rucksacks.
‘That woman don’t half swear for a vicar.’ The oldest girl spoke up quite sadly. ‘She isn’t a proper vicar. They just give themselves titles so they seem legit.’
‘Bastards’ the Constable effaced himself.
Mike looked at the dozen wan faces. ‘It is’ she said brightly ‘a good job we have plenty of rooms. How would a proper hot shower and a rest in a decent bed grab you lot? But you’ll have to do three to bed.’
The girls nodded eagerly and Ro took them upstairs. She returned to the kitchen some twenty minutes later.
‘All showered and tucked up. I’m off to see Mum now. You want I should come back in later?’
‘If you can.’
She nodded and gave a half salute before ambling out of the back door.
‘She’s a big girl’ the chunky WPC grinned. ‘At first I thought she was a fatty like me. But she ain’t. She’s just solid muscle.’
‘She is’ Mike grinned. ‘My dad used to call her the bull terrier.’ Then she got up and left the room.
‘Oops. Something I said?’
‘No. It’s talking about her Dad. He has dementia. For the last twelve months he hasn’t really known who he is, or who she is, or much of anything much. But physically he’s as strong as a horse. Could go on years.’
‘Shit’ the younger policewoman said with some feeling. ‘My Gran’s got Alzheimers, but we were never close. I’m guessing Mrs Johnson and her father were.’
‘Oh yeah. To the extent that I sometimes felt excluded. But don’t you be telling Mike that little gem.’
He followed his wife, but wasn’t long. He came back with a rueful grin. ‘I’ve been told off for abandoning you. Rude it was. So. Having disposed the kids to rest, what do you two want to do?’
‘I suspect Chrissie has her kindle in the car. And I’d just like to sit in your garden in the shade.’
It was getting on for four hours later when the first set of flustered parents arrived. Leo showed them to his study, where a large, calm policeman waited to talk to them, and rooted out their daughter. They were behind closed doors for almost an hour, and before they left both parents sought out Leo and Mike to thank them for their kindness. Mike smiled her weary smile and Leo spread bonhomie. After that, parents arrived in very quick succession, and there was even a bit of a queue to see the police.

When the last parental car had pulled out of the drive and the police had also gone, Mike leaned on Leo.
‘So. What the fuck do we make of that?’
‘Honestly? There’s a lot not to like. On a lot of levels.’
‘Isn’t there just. Only upside is the teenagers gave me a whole Bogg and Scrat column. One we can use whenever.’
He hugged her briefly. ‘You OK now?’
‘Yeah. I think all the sound and fury helped.’
He peered down into her face. ‘You look better. Was yesterday particularly bad?’
‘Was. He was on a crying jag.’
‘And I didn’t even ask. I am a selfish bastard.
‘You are. But I knew that when I married you.’ Then she grinned. ‘Maybe you wanna cook me a steak in reparation? There’s a couple pieces of fillet in the fridge.’

From Shall we gather at the river? a hard hitting murder mystery thriller by Jane Jago which is available for 0.99.