Mystery Novel Excerpt

Chapter One: The Body

It was half-past twelve, and Sir Alejandro Hidalgo was fifty-two minutes late in his departure. The winding, ribbon street fluttered ahead, making his stomach churn and skin turn green. To distract his sickly thoughts, he closed his eyes. The image of a dancer, female, popped into his mind. In her delicate hand, she twirled a banner in miraculous patterns, mirroring that of the cobblestone street he rode on. She was tall and majestic, her sinewy arms slicing through the air, her long, toned legs…

A pothole jolted him from his dream. 

“‘A’most there, mate,” The cockney driver bellowed, tossing something into Alejandro’s lap. “‘Ere’s some cigars, they’ll ‘elp with the turns,”

“Thank you,” Alejandro lit the cheap thing, watching the thick vapor drift. There was nothing better than cigars and beautiful women. What a beautiful day it was. 

“No,” Alejandro thought, staring at the milky white envelope peeking from his coat pocket. “I must stay focused. If I don’t, someone will die.”

The sprawling green hills of the English countryside billowed around them, stone fences enclosing scruffy sheep and old country houses blemishing the silky grass.

Alejandro puffed out a ring of smoke and mumbled, “God, show me the way,” as his patience to arrive was draining.

The ring jerked to the right by a sudden gust of wind toward a small dirt road.

“Turn,”

“But sir-” The driver pointed ahead down a hill where the town of Milford was visible.

“I said turn man!”

The vehicle swerved right, the axles creaking with the pressure. Alejandro signed the cross. The site ahead was worth the flash of fear, filling him with both pride and disgust.

His smoke ring party trick had worked again to locate the quaint bed and breakfast he needed to be. It was a one-story stone cottage. It was long with one section made of paned glass like a conservatory. A small garden in the back buzzed with bees. A table and char sat before the red front door.

“Appalling,” Alajandro still sat while the driver hefted his luggage out of the trunk. When his passenger still did not move, he opened the car door and put his hand out to help Alejandro out of the car.

“Enjoy, sir,” the cabby sped off after lugging the luggage into the foyer of the cottage. Doilies covered every imaginable surface, lace curtains hung over the windows. A smell of peppermint, tea, and a musty odor that can only be described as-

“Cat!” Alejandro jumped as a vicious, purring monster nudged his leg. A hoppity sound came nearer and nearer. Around the corner of a hallway came a little old woman, her hair in uniform gray curls, and wearing a blue cotton dress. Alejandro presumed her life was to end any day, slowly sizzling out like a burning Cubana. 

“That’s only Mr. Licksalot,” She scooped the fluffy creature up and stuck it in Alejandro’s face. He fumbled into the wall, crashing into crocheted works. “Guess how he got his name?” She wheezed with laughter and set the feline on the counter of the front desk. Its fire-like eyes stared into Alejandro’s soul.

“I am in need of lodging.”

“And I am in need of one more occupant, so that works out dandylike,” She smiled. “How many?”

“One,”

“Oh, no wife, then. That can be fixed. Milford is the town of romance,” Alejandro peeked out the window at the dull gray village with its few old shops and the steeple of a medieval church, ancient residents meandering down the street, stooped over canes. “Business or leisure?”

“Leisure,” Alejandro shuffled. Lying never felt right to him, despite how often he practiced the act.

“Mmm-hmm,” The lady eyed him. “You a Nazi?”

“Madam!” Alejandro waved his hands in the air. “Of course not! I can hardly believe such an accusation is necessary for my stay.”

“You have a funny accent, and I can’t tell if it’s German.”

“No,” Alejandro stiffened, annoyed. “I am Spanish, raised in Portugal.”

“Too close to Germany for comfort,” the old lady raised a pen. “But I need all the guests I can get. My name is Mary Pickford. If you need something, just shout. It will be a full house tonight, so preferably before evening comes. Here are your room keys, sir. You’re at the end of the hall.”