And The Earth Moved: Romantic Comedy Cozy Mystery (Amber Reed CCIA Mystery Book 1) (21 page)

FREE DOWNLOAD

Join my new releases and special offers mailing list and, as a thank you, you can download your

FREE copy of On Trial.

To get your FREE book visit
www.zannamackenzie.co.uk

Follow Amber’s next adventure in
Precious,

Amber Reed CCIA Mystery Book Two – grab a copy on Amazon!

Read on for an extract from Precious…..

Precious

Amber Reed CCIA Mystery Book Two

Who would want to murder a former pop star?

When celebrities need a crime solved they call in the experts – the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency, otherwise known as the CCIA…

Who would want to murder former pop star Flynn Garrison?

That’s exactly what Amber Reed, the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency’s newest recruit, needs to find out.

She’s desperate to get to grips with her first assignment and prove she’s up to the job but there’s a lot at stake… and it’s not only her new career that’s on the line.

Is mixing business and pleasure ever a good idea? Will her relationship with fellow CCIA agent Charlie survive the challenge of the two of them working together?

And then there’s agent extraordinaire Martha, a man-eating six foot blonde goddess, also assigned to this murder investigation, who clearly has designs on Charlie.

Trying to uncover who killed Flynn and why whisks Amber from glamorous red carpet film premiere, to learning Scottish dancing at a Highland party in a grand country house - and the distinct possibility of becoming the murderer’s next victim.

Can Amber solve the case and still keep her relationship with Charlie on track?

Read on….

Chapter One

“So is this your first time?”

I nod and turn away, feeling decidedly queasy.

“It could be worse,” the man continues. “My first time, there was blood everywhere and…”

“OK thanks I’ll sort things from here, Constable McKenna,” Charlie says, strolling over and interrupting the local policeman before things get too gory.

Charlie slips a hand into mine and leads me away from all the commotion and, much to my relief, away from the dead body. The wind is whipping up white tops on the waves as we walk slowly along the stretch of pristine pale sand. Who knew beaches in the wild and isolated islands of the Scottish Outer Hebrides looked like this? We could be on a beach in the Caribbean if it wasn’t for a bitingly cold wind and the miles of moorland and desolate nothingness which surround us.

But we aren’t. We’re on the island of Farra because Flynn Garrison, the former pop star who made women around the world drool over his gorgeousness, who quit at the height of fame to become a scientist and TV presenter, has been found dead, washed up on this very beach.

Just over six months ago I started my employment at the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency - otherwise known as the CCIA - where Charlie works. I finished my support officer training last week and this is my first assignment. It looks as though I’m not prepared – emotionally or mentally – for coming face to face with a dead body yet though. Are you ever?

“You OK?” Charlie asks, turning to face me.

I nod but stare out to sea. The sea which has just washed up a dead man.

“No you’re not.” He pulls me into a hug and much as I need a cuddle right now I feel a flicker of embarrassment and awkwardness. Are the other guys on the beach – the police, some medical people and a few locals having a nose at what’s going on – all laughing at me right now?  Laughing at the agency officer sent to help investigate a death when she can’t even cope with seeing the victim. The woman who needs to go off and have a cry whilst getting a cuddle from her fellow CCIA agent and – though they don’t know this – also her boyfriend.

“It’s perfectly normal,” he continues, as he strokes hair out of my eyes. “I’d love to be able to say it gets easier with time but the truth is it doesn’t. It does help a little if you try to focus on the fact we’re here to work out what happened to him and, if it is murder, then find out who did this and get them locked up.”

I bury my face in Charlie’s jacket and sniffle, fighting back the tears. He says nothing, just holds me.

What seems like an eternity later a voice says, “Er, excuse me, sorry to interrupt but…”

We turn to see one of the medics looking at us. I hastily wipe my eyes with the back of my sleeves and try to put a capable and professional expression on my face.

The woman looks at me. “Are you all right, sweetie?” she asks in a strong Scottish accent. “Did you know the man?”

“No.” I sniff and try to get a grip of my whirl of emotions. “I’m the support officer on the case. I work for the agency, CCIA.”

“Oh, right, sorry, I…”

Charlie chips in to explain. “First case, first time seeing a dead body.”

The woman gives me a sympathetic smile. “Ahhh, I see. Sorry.”

“So, any ideas what happened to him?” Charlie asks with a nod towards the screened off area where our victim is.

“It looks as though he could well have been strangled,” she says. “Then he fell or was put in the water somewhere. Could have been inland, edge of a tidal river or something and the body was washed to sea at high tide. The local police will look into tidal patterns and then we’ll have a better idea. I definitely don’t think we’re looking at an accident or suicide here though.”

“Pretty much as we expected then.” Charlie shoves a hand into the pocket of his jeans. “Thanks for letting us know.”

“We’ll remove the body and carry out some proper tests back at the medical centre. I have your mobile phone number, Mr Huxton. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have any further news.”

“Thanks,” Charlie nods. “And please, it’s Charlie, not Mr Huxton.” He turns to me and adds, “And this is Amber.”

“OK then, Charlie and Amber it is. If we’re on first name terms then I’m Gwyn.” The woman leans forward and places a hand on my arm. “Why don’t you head back to wherever you’re staying, sweetie and get a nice soothing cup of tea and take it easy for a little while eh? It’s always a bit of shock, you know, seeing the victim. If you want I can give you a sleeping tablet or something to calm your nerves?”

I shake my head. “Thanks but I’ll be OK.”

Gwyn nods. “Fine but if you do need me for anything just ring.”

Charlie wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Thanks, we will.”

“Let’s go back to the bed and breakfast for a while. I want to call a few people and there’s some stuff we need to look up on the Internet as well,” Charlie says. “Might be best to see if we can rent a cottage too, it looks as though we could be here longer than originally expected.”

We make our way up the beach towards the hire car and I look away as the screens are removed and the body, now covered, is taken to the waiting ambulance.

“Do you think he suffered?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper. Why am I asking the question? Whatever answer I get from Charlie won’t change what has happened here or the way I feel.

“I don’t think so. It would probably have been fairly quick,” he answers. I’m not sure if it’s the truth or whether he’s just trying to placate me.

I stop and look at him. There’s concern in his eyes. Whether it’s just for my mental and emotional health or also about my ability to do this job I’m not sure. Charlie is the reason I’m here; the reason I work for the CCIA. If I get this wrong, if I’m not up to doing this job, it will reflect badly on him.

We reach the car and climb inside. I pull on my seatbelt, glad to be out of the fierce wind. “Right now, I just need to get back to our room and you can make me a strong cup of coffee.”

Charlie pulls the car away from the beach and sets off along the single track road, back towards our village B&B. “You’ve got it,” he says, flicking on the windscreen wipers as it starts to rain and then resting a hand on my thigh. “I’ll even let you finish the choc chip cookies.”

By the time we’ve reached the B&B the rain is torrential. The weather around here changes in a millisecond. We grab our coats and make a dash from car to building. The B&B is in a grey and unattractive property. From what I’ve seen most buildings around here are built for practicality and to withstand the ferocious gales and storms – aesthetics clearly aren’t a priority.

“Ah, good, you’re back.” Bethan, the woman who owns the B&B, says as we dash into the entrance hall, dripping rain all over the carpet. She’s standing behind the little reception desk and next to her is a stunningly attractive woman in jeans and a close-fitting jumper, a suitcase at her feet.  “I was just talking to Martha here about how you were both down at the beach with the murder victim.”

Strange – does she usually welcome guests by telling them about bodies washing up on the local beach?

“It hasn’t been confirmed as murder,” Charlie says, following me inside, head down as he pulls off his wet coat. “Not officially.”

The beautiful woman steps forward, ignores me and envelopes Charlie in a hug, catching him off guard. “Charlie!” she squeals excitedly.  “It’s ages since we’ve worked together. So good to see you again!”

Did she just say “work together”?

I watch as Charlie hugs her back, meeting my questioning gaze over her shoulder.

“Martha, what are you doing here?” he asks once she’s eventually disentangled herself from him.

“The agency sent me to help you out with this case.” Martha casts a dismissive look in my direction. “They wanted their best agents working up here. So,” she shrugs her shoulders in a here-I-am way, “they sent me to work with you. I understand this is Amber’s first case and we don’t want her getting all overwhelmed on an important job like this do we?” She giggles and pushes a hand through her long honey-coloured hair.

“This might be Amber’s first case but she’s more than capable…” Charlie starts to reply and I step forward, interrupting.

“I’m glad you’re here, Martha,” I say, whilst thinking the agency don’t trust me. They don’t think I’m capable of doing this.

Do I think I’m capable of doing this?

They’ve sent Miss Beautiful CCIA Agent to work with Charlie. I’ll probably be relegated to fetching her cups of coffee and typing up her paperwork.

“Anyway,” Miss Beautiful continues, “the boss wants a thorough investigation and expects us to be on this godforsaken island for a while so I’m told the guys back at base have arranged a rental cottage for us all to share. If you want to get packed and meet me back down here then I’ll lead the way to our new home. Ten minutes OK?”

Fantastic.

Not only do my new employers not trust me to do my job, they send another agent, a very beautiful one with a superior attitude, to work with Charlie and me on this case.

Oh, and we all get to share a rental cottage together as well.

I was so wrong when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse…

Chapter Two

“Don’t put that in here,” I say as I reach for my suitcase which Charlie has just dumped on the double bed next to his own holdall. The cottage which the guys at the CCIA have booked for us has three bedrooms. It too has the grey utilitarian look on the outside but thankfully inside it’s modern, bright and cosy. Miss Beautiful CCIA is currently singing as she unpacks in one of the bedrooms. I, however, am scowling as I haul my case from the bed back to the floor.

Charlie raises an eyebrow as he slumps on the bed and reaches for my hand. “Why not? Why are you moving your case?”

I lower my voice to a whisper. “I think I should sleep in the other room.”

“Fed up with me already?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

As if.

“It doesn’t feel right us sharing a bed,” I reply inclining my head towards the wall and the bedroom where Martha is settling in. “Not with her in the cottage with us.”

“Don’t be daft.” Charlie looks mystified. “What difference does that make?”

For an intelligent investigative agent sometimes he can be quite dense. “Because…” I hiss. “She clearly already thinks I’m not up to doing my job. If she knows we’re involved then she’ll think that’s the only reason I’m here, because I’m sleeping with you, and then she’ll think even less of me.”

“You have an overactive imagination.” He shakes his head. “And anyway, I would think she already knows we’re dating. Everyone at the CCIA probably does. When I recommended you as a possible new support officer I had to declare that we were involved on the forms. Normal procedure.”

I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Everyone knows?”

He nods. “I’m sure she won’t mind. What we do in our own time and our own private space is up to us and has nothing whatsoever to do with this investigation and the agency.” He reaches for my hand again but I plant my feet firmly on the floor and resist even though, at this particular moment, I would love nothing more than to climb onto the bed with Charlie for a cuddle.

“It just doesn’t seem, well, you know, professional.” I shrug. “I’ll move to the other room.”

He stops slouching on the bed and sits up. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.” He looks well and truly fed up now so I add, “I can always sneak into your room in the middle of the night for a quick cuddle.”

He shakes his head.

“No?”

“Nope,” he replies, feigning indignation. “No chance. It’s all or nothing. If you’re not staying the night with me then you’re not nipping in here for a quickie before skulking back to your own room under the cover of darkness. Those are the rules.”

“Rules?” I try my best seductive smile on him. “Since when were you one for following the rules?”

He shrugs. “It’s different if I’m the one making the rules.”

I lean down to kiss him on the lips. “You’ll change your mind soon enough,” I say as I pull my suitcase towards the door.

He gets to his feet and starts unpacking his own bag. “Nope, I won’t,” he says with a wink. “It’s all or nothing. Remember that.”

“So you’ve worked with Martha before,” I say, stopping in the doorway. My case, with its dodgy wheels, decides not to stop at the same time as I do and promptly whacks me across the ankles. I wince at the pain.

“Yeah, a couple of times.” Charlie is doing his version of unpacking – grabbing random handfuls of clothes from his holdall and flinging assorted items into drawers without even looking at them. It’s one of many traits Charlie and I share – untidiness. We’re both also stubborn and can be incredibly nosy.

“She seemed very pleased to see you.” I stand on my right leg and surreptitiously rub the other foot up and down the back of my still painful ankle.

Charlie gives me a warning look. “We were never involved,” he says, clearly cutting off my line of questioning before I can get into my stride.

“Just friends then eh?”

“Not even that really,” he replies, opening the wardrobe door and chucking the now empty holdall inside. “Just work colleagues.”

“Right.” I nod. “Well, I’m off to unpack.”

I take a leaf out of Charlie’s book and fling my clothes into various drawers and wardrobes, feeling miffed about Martha being here and about everyone at the CCIA knowing that Charlie and I are involved. Charlie’s the reason I’m working for the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency because we met when he came to investigate the death of Joel McKarthy in the village of Palstone where I live.

Joel was the brother of an old friend  and former boyfriend of mine – Ennis McKarthy. Ennis is a famous actor these days but when I knew him he was just Ennis, a great guy with a passion to one day be an actor.  Ennis fiercely guards his privacy and wanted to make sure Charlie wasn’t going to sell the story to the media hounds, so he begged me to shadow him throughout the top secret investigation into Joel’s death. Charlie, much to my shock, agreed to the arrangement and we discovered we worked well together and ended up collaborating on the case. Actually, in the interests of full disclosure, we ended up doing far more than that, but that’s a whole other story! 

When the case was solved Charlie and I got involved and, well, he thought my investigative skills (i.e. stubborn nosiness) would make me a great support officer for the CCIA, so he recommended me and… well, here we are.

I used to be a part-time barmaid and part-time newspaper administrator back in Palstone, Derbyshire. My duties at the paper also used to include making up the horoscopes under the name of Madam Zamber.

Now here I am, after six months intensive training, working on my first official case for the agency, with Charlie as my supervising officer,  and me not dealing very well with seeing the dead victim.  I feel as though I have a lot to prove. Doesn’t everyone when they start a new job? In this case though, because of the way Charlie recommended me to the agency, I feel I have even more to prove. I don’t want to be the woman who got her job because of who she’s dating.

“So what do we know about this guy?” Martha asks.

I feel as though she’s taken over the cottage. Her stuff is everywhere and now she’s commandeered the kitchen and is making us all dinner. I’ve also noticed that she is flirting full tilt with Charlie whilst pretty much ignoring me. Except for asking me to fetch her stuff.

Would you be an angel and fetch me the chicken from the fridge, Amber? Would you mind fetching some rosemary from the little herb garden at the side of the cottage for me, Amber?

She’s asking so politely that if a stranger walked into this kitchen they probably wouldn’t sense the subtle but there none-the-less undercurrents between the two of us. But I do sense them and I know what she’s up to. I know she sees me as her assistant, someone to run her errands whilst she works closely with Charlie to solve the case of the ex-pop star washed up on the beach.

I hand her the chicken and fetch the herbs as requested. What else can I do? I know I’m new to all of this and I don’t have her years of experience. I’m here to learn and I want to be actively involved in finding out what happened to Flynn Garrison. The CCIA might want their best agents on this case so have sent Martha to partner Charlie but I’m not going to be pushed out.

Charlie rests his perfect jean-clad bottom against the kitchen counter and folds his arms. “We know he was lead singer with one of the top pop groups until almost two years ago when he quit. He left the band, called Dynamo Monsoon, and decided to make use of his geology degree instead. This past year he’s been one of the presenters on a science show on TV. He’s also been contracted to do some research and development consultancy work by an Edinburgh university.”

Martha arches one of her perfect eyebrows. “What kind of research work?”

“We aren’t sure yet,” I chip in.

“Married? Kids?” Martha asks as she slices potatoes ready to go in the oven for roasting.

“Records show he’s been married to a woman called Melissa for three years,” I answer. “No children. They must have married pretty young, him and this Melissa. He would only have been twenty  six on his next birthday.”

“I wonder what made him quit the group?” Charlie ponders. “What happened two years ago to make him walk away from the band, from being famous? Something must have triggered it.”

“Yes, that’s another thing we need to get some answers on,” Martha says.

“I’m planning on quizzing the locals, see what I can find out about him, when he arrived, where he was staying,” Charlie says. “See if he had any local connections. Why was he here on Farra?”

Martha nods her approval.

“Fine. Tomorrow I’ll access his bank records to see if that offers any clues about our victim. In the meantime, this meal will take half hour or so to cook so I’m off for a quick shower.”

She turns towards me and adds, “I trust I can leave you in charge of checking nothing burns?”

I want to tell her exactly what she can do but silently count to five before nodding. Be professional. Martha is a work colleague. You have to behave civilly towards her, I tell myself. No matter how much you might want to shove her onto the first ferry back to the mainland.

As soon as the bathroom door clicks shut Charlie grabs me from behind. “Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

I pretend to try to wrestle free from his grasp as he starts to tickle me. I spin round in his arms and he backs me up against the fridge freezer.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I say as I run my hands up his neck and into his hair. He had it cut just last week. I think it’s a little too short at the back but the front is still just about long enough to look all desirably tousled when he gets out of bed in the morning.

OK.  OK. I know I was the one who proclaimed there was to be no funny business between Charlie and me whilst Miss Martha is around but I can already feel my resistance weakening. “She can try to wind me up all she likes but I won’t retaliate. I will remain calm and unflustered and I will prove to her I’m every bit as useful on this case as she is. I can do this job.”

Charlie grins at me. “That’s my girl! For a moment there I was getting worried.”

We both hear the electric shower click on and buzz into life in the bathroom down the corridor. Our eyes meet and I know we’re thinking the same thing. We have the chance for ten minutes of quality time whilst Martha is out of the way.

I stand on tiptoe and trace fingers over Charlie’s jet black hair. The kiss we share is urgent and hungry and he presses me further back against the fridge. I need Charlie’s warmth and comfort and reassurance. Want him to hold me. Erase images of the beach. Of  Flynn Garrison. I need to be distracted.  Hands, lips and tongues explore, finding the particular spots we know we each like, the spots we have discovered during the six months we’ve been a couple.

Admittedly, due to Charlie’s work with the CCIA and my agency training, we didn’t get to spend the whole six months together but even so…

However much later we hear the shower click off. I ease away from Charlie and send him a we-have-to-behave-now look.  To his credit he does just that. He releases me and I tidy up my ponytail as he tucks his shirt back into his jeans. I sniff the air and realise I totally forgot to check the oven – is that burning I can smell?

Opening the oven door I poke and prod the roast potatoes and vegetables with a spoon. Some of them are a little charred around the edges. Oh well… I’ll just have to work harder to prove to Miss Beautiful that, despite what she thinks, I am a capable modern woman. Well, some of the time I am…

I hear the bathroom door open and stand up, closing the oven, in time to see Martha sashay – and no, I’m not exaggerating or being bitchy, there is no other word for it – down the corridor from the bathroom to her bedroom wearing nothing but the tiniest of bath towels. Her long tanned legs seem to go on forever and her generous cleavage is almost spilling over the top of the white towel. 

She turns as she reaches her bedroom door and the towel - on purpose I am sure - slips ever so slightly, revealing yet more 36DD, before she clasps it to her bosom.

“Oops,” she laughs and then winks at Charlie in full view of me before disappearing inside her room.

Instantly I turn to see if Charlie took in that whole little scene – after all, she clearly performed it especially for his benefit. He’s standing looking slightly dazed. I clear my throat and he pulls his gaze away from the bedroom door and back to me.

Yep, he saw her little show all right.

“I’ll check on the oven,” he says, turning his back to me.

Great. Now I not only have to prove myself worthy of working for the CCIA but also have to prove it to a man-eating six-foot blonde goddess with designs on my boyfriend.

Grab a copy of
Precious
on Amazon and continue the story…