Bloodstone Series #4
Historical Suspense
Date Published: 11-10-2025
Publisher: Books to Go Now
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
is the victim’s body.
Excerpt:
“What happens now?” Newell
asked. “I still don’t have a clue what this is about.”
“You’ll know in good time.”
Eric handed him a flask. “It’s water. I suggest you drink sparingly. There’s a
bucket in the corner for your personal use.”
Another shot of panic spiked
through him at the words-drink sparingly. “How long do you intend to
hold me here?”
“Until I tire of the
situation.” He tossed Leo the bag and tipped his head toward the door. “Let’s
go.”
Leo didn’t say a word and
followed Eric out.
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.”
Review: It all started when Phillip let in
a friend only to be held at gunpoint by him and his bodyguard. Right away I
hated that the dog was shot in the first chapter. Why shoot the dog? That
started me off with a little resentment with this, but I decided to press on to
see how this story developed. Of course, this could all be blamed on Phillip if
he really did swindle money from this creep. In that case, he deserved what he
got. But poor dog! And that’s the same beautiful dog on the cover, too!
The rest of the book seemed to be
merely a rudimentary investigation into Phillip’s missing person/murder case.
It was pretty decent for a historical cozy mystery. The read itself was fine.
The pace wasn’t as quick as I would’ve liked, but it was okay. A fairly nice
read overall.
Rating:
3 stars
About the Author
I was born and raised in Chicago. My father was a history professor and
my mother was, and is, a voracious reader. I grew up with a love of history
and books.
My parents also love traveling, a passion they passed onto me. I wanted to see
the places I read about, see the land and monuments from the time periods that
fascinated me. I’ve had the good fortune to travel extensively
throughout Europe, the Near East, and North Africa.
I am a retired police detective. I spent twenty-five years in law enforcement
with two different agencies. My desire to write came in my early teens. After
I retired, I decided to pursue that dream.
I’m currently working on the Bloodstone Series, which is historical
suspense stories set in Victorian London. I’ve also written two World
War 2 romances: The Ack Ack Girl and Moonlight Serenade.
My past series include my historical/time travel romance series is called,
Knights in Time. My romantic thriller series is Dangerous Waters.
Each series has a different setting and some cross time periods, which I find
fun to write.
I currently live in the Pacific Northwest with my husband and three wild and
crazy rescue dogs.
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