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
Archie and Clive stood to the side and quietly watched.
Ruddy slowly dropped down onto his knees next to the dog. “Snowball,” he said her name wanting to see if she reacted.
She flipped her tail one weak wag, lifted her head slightly, and then lay it back down. “Will you let me see your injury? I’ll be gentle.”
Snowball watched him as he leaned over her blood patch but she didn’t growl. Ruddy pushed bloody hair away from the spot he thought the source of the injury. He couldn’t tell much through the thick coat.
“Clive, bring me two clean towels. Wet one,” Ruddy ordered. “And bring a bowl of water. She’s probably dehydrated.”
Clive dashed off toward the kitchen.
“It looks like she’s cooperating with your ministrations. While you handle her, I’m going to start another search.” Archie went down the hall.
Ruddy stroked Snowball, offering soothing words while he waited for the towels. When Clive returned, Ruddy cradled the side of her head and positioned it so she could drink. She lapped up her fill. Once she stopped, Ruddy moved his hand so she could lay her head down again. Then he used the wet cloth to wipe the bloodiest area to get a better look at the wound on her hip. Snowball lifted her head several times in an attempt to see what he was doing. Her body flinched with every movement of her head and she began to tremble.
“Shh, lie still. Shh. Shh.” Ruddy covered her eyes with the dry towel. The tremors stopped and she didn’t try to raise her head again.
“How did you know that would work, covering her eyes and shushing her, considering she’s been through some kind of trauma?” Clive asked.
“Animals are sensitive to our tone of voice. I learned that from my father, as a farrier, he knows a lot about working with animals. Plus, in addition to our own horses, we had goats, and chickens. He used them to show my brothers and sisters how they responded,” Ruddy explained. “The cloth over her eyes, keeps her from being anxious or agitated by my movements.”
Snowball lay quiet as Ruddy explored her injury. He used the wet towel to wipe as much of the blood from her fur as he could. He finally got through to the center of the wound and in a soft tone told her, “I thought for a moment you were shot, but you’re not. I can’t see where a bullet pierced your hip.” He followed a deep abrasion line from the small pool of dark coagulated blood to the skinned area where the bloodline grew spotty. Ruddy sat back on his heels. “I think she’s been shot but it only grazed her.”
“How can you tell it’s a graze?” Clive asked.
“I can’t be sure. A doctor will have to examine her further but I’ve seen my share of different bullet wounds. I believe this is a graze. Take a look. It will help you when the day comes for you to become a detective.”
Clive knelt down and his hand hovered over the injury about to touch it.
“Don’t touch the wound,” Ruddy warned and Clive pulled his hand back. “She’s had a terrible scare. Too many strange hands might overly excite her.” He smoothed the hair around the wound back so Clive could see the graze. “See the abrasion of dried blood streaks? That is more common with a graze. The darkest clot of blood doesn’t appear to be a bullet entry spot.”
“Interesting.” Clive tapped his finger on the pocket he kept a small book. “I’ll write this in my notebook.”
Ruddy stood. “Good idea. Right now, we need you to go to Mrs. Newell’s. Tell her about the dog and come here to tell us if this is her son’s Snowball.”
“Should I bring her in a cab? I don’t know if she has a carriage of her own.”
“Yes, bring her in a cab. Let’s not wait for her to get a carriage ready.” Clive reached into his pocket and took a peek at his change. Before he could say he didn’t have the money, Ruddy fished two crowns from his waistcoat and handed them to Clive.
“Thank you.” Clive left.
“Grazed by a bullet?” Archie asked, having returned from searching the house.
“Yes. Did you find anything else of interest?”
“Sadly, no.”
Ruddy pressed the wet towel to the scar, which still oozed blood. The flow had lessened from when the injury had originally occurred. There was no spreading into the patch of dried blood.
Archie started to sit in the nearby chair but stopped and bent down. He picked up a feather with a smudge of blood on it fallen near one of the chair legs. Kneeling he looked under the chair and slid a pillow out. “What’s this then?”
“What?”
Archie held the pillow out for Ruddy to see a blackened and seared material around a small hole. “I found this bloody feather too.” Archie brought the pillow up to his nose and sniffed. More feathers poked out from the larger hole in the pillow. “It smells acrid like burnt meat. Could be gunpowder residue.”
“Toss me the pillow.” Ruddy caught it and smelled the seared material. “I’m sure it’s gunpowder.”
“If Newell has gone missing, whether voluntarily or forced, what has he been involved in that got him into this situation? Why shoot the poor dog? Based on Mrs. Newell’s information, he didn’t-wouldn’t hurt Snowball, so who did and why?” The question wasn’t meant for immediate answers. From Archie’s tone, it was his thoughts spoken to the universe in general.
“Assuming we have a crime, three reasons for shooting the dog come to me. The person or persons who are behind his disappearance, shot Snowball to shut her up, if she was barking. Or, she might have tried to defend Newell from an attacker. Or, the attacker wanted something from Newell that he’d resist doing and they shot her to emphasize their seriousness, and he would be next.” Snowball whimpered, drawing Ruddy’s attention back.
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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