The river reveals its secrets…
Amateur sleuth Augusta Peel is showing a friend the sights of London when their boat trip on the River Thames is cut short. A body has been found adrift in a rowing boat.
The circumstances are puzzling. Scotland Yard takes on the case and Augusta makes some enquiries of her own. But since Detective Inspector Philip Fisher’s resignation, she no longer has a contact at the Yard to help her.
Could the murder be linked to a series of accidents at a factory? And who was behind an attack on a young woman a few weeks previously? A breakthrough comes when the Yard asks for assistance, but Augusta has already made an enemy who’s determined to make life difficult for her.
Philip’s new detective agency is getting off the ground. And although he’s happy to help Augusta, a lady in distress is causing a distraction…
Available as ebook and paperback.
Book 1: Death in Soho
Book 2: Murder in the Air
Book 3: The Bloomsbury Murder
Book 4: The Tower Bridge Murder
Book 5: Death in Westminster
Book 6: Murder on the Thames
Book 7: The Baker Street Murders
Book 8: Death in Kensington
Read an excerpt from Murder on the Thames She didn’t suspect the man was following her until she turned into Crossfield Lane. He remained twenty yards behind her, just as he had for the past ten minutes. She didn’t like his lithe, loping gait or the way he kept his head bowed. She stopped and turned, hoping the sign she had noticed would ward him off. He lit a cigarette, then loped on past her, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground. He was young and lean and had a scar on his cheek. She gave a shudder as he passed. Something didn’t feel right. She watched him walk on and turn left at the end of the road into Deptford High Street. She went on her way, enjoying the evening spring sunshine. The days were getting longer now, and the weather was warming up. She forgot about the scar-faced man and thought about the forthcoming May Day celebrations. One of her friends had been chosen as the May Queen and she was looking forward to watching the parade on Deptford Broadway. She turned right into the high street and stopped at the sweet shop to buy a bag of pear drops. Then she continued on her way home. As she entered Watergate Street, her nerves returned. It was much quieter than the high street. Was it possible the scar-faced man would reappear? She told herself she was being foolish, but quickened her step. A man stepped out of a doorway in front of her. She almost collided with him. She was about to comment that he should have looked where he was going, but thought better of it. He was tall and broad, and his eyes were dark. Unnerved, she side-stepped him. But as she walked on, she saw the scar-faced man step out of Queen’s Street. He had continued following her. He must have run around the block and turned back on himself. She spun round, but she was caught between both men now. Her heart thudded heavily, and her mouth felt dry. Her only hope was the little alleyway which linked up with Armada Street. She took in a breath, then made a bolt for it. The cobbles were uneven and it was difficult to run fast. She could hear the footsteps of the men behind her. She threw the bag of pear drops on the ground, vainly hoping they could create a small obstacle. She ran faster than she had ever run before. Her throat grew sore as she gasped in air. Cold prickles ran up and down her spine. She had to get away. The alleyway turned to the right and pain shot through her right ankle as she twisted her foot on the cobblestones. Up ahead, she could see Armada Street. Surely someone there could help? A lady with a pram passed by at the end of the alleyway. She was little more than a silhouette, but perhaps it was possible to cry out to her. She gave a shout as a hand grasped her shoulder. She was moving too fast to put up any resistance. A strong shove sent her tumbling to the ground. She flung her arms around her head. She had to do what she could to protect herself. But as the second man caught up with her, she knew she was powerless.