Mike in Finland

Monday, 30 June 2025

Murder Under the Aegean Sun: Norman phones Chief Inspector Mitchell

 

Murder Under the Aegean Sun by Mike Horwood

Murder Under the Aegean Sun

Here's a short extract from chapter 5 of my detective novel, Murder Under the Aegean Sun, which gives nothing away. Detective Inspector Norman Finch is on holiday on the Greek island of Skiathos when he receives a telegram from his boss, Chieh Inspector Tom Mitchell, asking him to phone him asap:

 

     Later that day Norman collected the telegram, which was indeed from Chief Inspector Mitchell, and which read simply, Phone me. Mitchell.

     “He doesn’t waste words, does he?” said Sally, reading over Norman’s shoulder.

     “That’s one of his greatest virtues,” replied Norman, looking round for a phone.

     “That rather depends on the words.”

     Norman got directions to the telephone office, where they could make an international call. They went there straight away. In the cubicle Norman dialled the Chief Inspector’s number and waited. The ringing tone stopped.

     “Mitchell.”

     “Hello Tom. This is Norman. I’ve just received your telegram.”

     “Good. It seems there’s been a murder down there,” the Chief Inspector said, coming straight to the point.

     “Murder? We heard about an Englishman who’d drowned.”

     “Same fellow. His name was Rycroft. James Rycroft. Rich businessman. Had a villa on your island. His boat was found drifting last week. He was found a couple of days later. The immediate assumption was an accident, of course, but examination revealed heavy bruising on the back of the neck where his head was held under the water. No doubt, apparently.”

     “What do you want me to do about it?”

     “The local police are handling the case, but their chief is in communication with us, naturally, and we’re cooperating in every way possible as far as supplying information goes. But this James Rycroft was friendly with some fairly influential people who are keen that the facts are clearly established, and word has come to me that as you are on the spot you might like to poke your nose in and sniff about. Something like a bloodhound, Norman.”

     Poking my nose in sounds like a very apt description. How’s the local man going to feel about it? He won’t welcome my intrusion, will he?”

     “Go softly, softly, Norman. Very low key. I’m not asking you to start an investigation. And the local man’s expecting you. His chief is in on the arrangement and will have told him. The story is that your role is simply to liaise between him and London, supporting him with information and passing on findings, that sort of thing. And you’re to act as cultural advisor. That’s the term we’re using to describe you. It means that Greek ways and English ways are very different and you’re to explain ours to him as an aid to his investigation. It will also give you access to most of the facts he turns up since we imagine that the killer is probably English. Yes, I forgot to mention, several of the victim’s family are staying on the island, that’s why a cultural advisor will be useful. Most murders are in the family, you know.”

     Norman was thinking that this was one of the oddest jobs he’d ever been given and was wondering how he was going to go about it.

     “What’s the local man’s name?” he asked.

     “I can’t tell you, Norman. But I can spell it. Ready? First name: Y-I-A-N-N-I. Family name: Y-I-A-N-N-O-U-L-I-D-O-U. Quite unpronounceable.”

     “Okay, Tom. I’ll see what I can do. Although, I don’t suppose it will be much.”

     “I’ve got every faith in you, Norman. Just sniff. Remember the bloodhound. How’s the holiday going?” the Chief Inspector asked as an afterthought.

     “Fine. We went waterskiing today.”

     “Waterskiing, eh?”

     “Well, I use the term loosely to include any activity involving water and skis.”

     “Quite. Well, let us know what you find, Norman.”


 

Available here:

https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Under-Aegean-Mike-Horwood/dp/B0DFD4GK8Q/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

or from the Amazon site in your country.

Wednesday, 6 November 2024

 

 

Murder Under the Aegean Sun by Mike Horwood

Murder Under the Aegean Sun

My whodunnit, Murder Under the Aegean Sun, is now available in paperback format as well as e-book. It's written in the style of a classic English detective mystery with all the clues hidden in the text (no surprise information in the final chapter) and a Greek detective, Yianni Yiannoulidou, in the same mould as Hercule Poirot.  

Available here:

https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Under-Aegean-Mike-Horwood/dp/B0DFD4GK8Q/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

or from the Amazon site in your country.

Tuesday, 6 August 2024

My detective novel, Murder Under the Aegean Sun, is on a 5-day free giveaway

 

The 5-day free giveaway of my new detective novel is now showing on Amazon
Get your free copy before midnight on Saturday 10 August.
 
Link to Amazon.com:
https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Under-Aegean-Mike-Horwood-ebook/dp/B0DC24N33L/ref=pd_ybh_a_d_sccl_1/131-5703461-1908628?pd_rd_w=rwt4h&content-id=amzn1.sym.67f8cf21-ade4-4299-b433-69e404eeecf1&pf_rd_p=67f8cf21-ade4-4299-b433-69e404eeecf1&pf_rd_r=ZTP10XFSGZGB55J02W33&pd_rd_wg=xgSdQ&pd_rd_r=72c32628-ae29-44a3-9492-690c17309cf0&pd_rd_i=B0DC24N33L&psc=1
I hope you enjoy it!
 
Update: now also available in paperback format.

Thursday, 30 November 2023

Only 2 full days left for free giveaway

 

Biking: the story of a teenage romance

My latest short story is free in Kindle on Amazon until 2 December (midday Pacific time) Here it is: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CP2D6LV6
It fits into the Young Adult category but I think Old Adults could enjoy it too. And the good news is that it is free for 5 days, starting 28 November until 2 December. Start and finish times are midday Pacific Time.
I would be very interested to hear any comments.


Monday, 27 November 2023

Short story published on Amazon

 My short story, Biking: the story of a teenage romance, is available in Kindle form on Amazon. It fits into the Young Adult category, but I think Old Adults can enjoy it too. You can find it on Amazon by searching the title and/or my name, Mike Horwood, or by using the address below:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CP2D6LV6

 

There is a 5-day promotion from 28 November until 2 December (start and finish times midday Pacific Time) when the story can be downloaded for free.

Happy reading.

Monday, 9 November 2020

Philip Marlowe Takes a Break

Here's a humorous little dramatic monologue to brighten your day, and also to provide some insight into the life of a private dick. It should ideally be read aloud with a strong American accent. A version of this text was first published in Muse (Manchester Metropolitan University, 2008).


Philip Marlowe takes a break

 

It was a stakeout on Riverside Drive and I was beginning to smell a rat. There wasn’t a river in sight, so what was in this name? I needed to know, bad. I was working along the lines of when is a river not a river? when a Buick drifted to the gate, launched into the street and sailed off towards town. I sailed after it with a confident smile. Right, river, got it. But it had been a tough nut to crack and I knew then that this case was gonna be no walk in the park.

 

The Buick pulled up outside a diner. It was a classy joint and I was wearing a shirt I’d picked up from the cleaner’s four days before. It was still clean, though; just a couple of coffee stains, so I followed the driver inside.

 

She was a blonde. One of those blondes that drops into your life like a lottery ticket. Whatever that means. She was as pretty as a picture on a July day in Memphis, Tennessee and I was about to become one of the world’s greatest art collectors.

 

The smell of burgers and fries rose up my nostrils like a rocket off the launch pad at NASA. I was famished. I hadn’t eaten in four days. Ha! So that’s why my shirtfront was so clean.

 

The blonde took a seat by the window. I scanned the place. There was a Joe in the corner I didn’t much like the look of.

 

“Hey, Joe,” I said, “where you goin’ with that gun in your pants?”

 

But he was a bag of nerves. He made a lunge for the door, slipped and fell, spilling the beans as he hit the dirt. They went all over him. God, he looked a mess. I couldn’t help a silly smirk. Now he’d have to pay a trip to the laundry.

 

I sat down where I could watch the blonde. She was there to meet someone, I figured.

 

“What’ll it be, Buster?”

 

I gave the waitress a cool look and lit a cigarette.

 

“Your boss has a hunting lodge on 69th Street and thirty-six shotguns registered for hunting,” I told her, “so I reckon moose is on the menu. Mooses is big animals, and kinda cute, but I’ll eat one anyway.”

 

The waitress stared at me in admiration, or disbelief, and I didn’t much care which because somewhere, at the back of my mind, an alarm bell was ringin’, tryin’ to tell me somethin’. Somethin’ about a patsy called Toby. But was it Toby, or not Toby: that was the question.

 

Right at that moment I noticed the waitress’s name badge: Toby Ornott!

 

“Transvestisisism is’m offence in the State of California!” I spluttered. Hell, they oughta write these long words out of the law. “I’m calling the Feds. Feds!” I yelled, several times.

 

So it looked like the blonde was in the clear. I sure was happy about that. She was still sitting by the window but making ready to leave. I sloped over, picked her keys off the table and said, “Let’s you and me take a trip down river. I’ll drive”

 

“Piss off!” she replied, getting to her feet. She was a good six foot one, something I must have overlooked.

 

She exited and left me standing there. I was still feeling kinda tender and almost offered to take Joe for a ride to the cleaner’s, but thought better of it. The case was closed and I was free. Free as a napkin after a meal: screwed up, soiled and no use to anyone.