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N. N. Light
Sep 276 min read

Hide and Seek by Jo A. Hiestand is an Audiobook Frenzy Event pick #britishmystery #mystery #audiobooks #giveaway



Title: Hide and Seek

 

Author: Jo A. Hiestand

 

Genre: Mystery

 

Book Blurb:

 

Playing a mystery game seems the perfect way to celebrate Jamie Kydd’s promotion to Detective Sergeant rank.  But the game turns real when a body turns up in the pretend crime scene.  Perhaps worse than spoiling the party, the corpse is someone Jamie knows.


     Even though the police take on the case, Jamie asks his friend, former police detective Michael McLaren, to also investigate—concerned that the victim’s criminal past may dampen the Constabulary’s usual fervor to nab his killer. It seems to have been a smart decision, for the police aren’t expending a lot of energy on the inquiry.


     Suspects float around McLaren…half truthful, hard to find.  More like wraiths than flesh and blood.  If the victim’s burglary partner, ex-wife, or childhood friend didn’t kill Dan, who did? 


     It’s a desperate game between McLaren and a killer who’s playing Hide and Seek...for keeps.

 

Excerpt:

 

McLaren moved closer to the scene, stopping at the confines of the rope.

 

It was a typical site, probably based on many Paula and Jamie had set up throughout their years of camping. A quick-pitch tent, hammock, three folding chairs, a table, sleeping bags and a charcoal grill occupied most of the area. A small campfire several yards from the tent waited to be lit. An archery target was tacked to a distant tree.

 

After observing the site for several minutes, he wrote down the details.

 

·      Man and woman in their mid-thirties, slumped in folding camp chairs at table

·      Photo of man and woman—mid-thirty/late-twenty—on the ground near table

·      Photo of an older couple, torn in half

·      Photo of a framed biz license and an old pound note, torn in half

·      £100 note partially burnt on ground, small paper note also partially burnt and stapled to upper left corner of banknote 

·      Wallet open and I see cards sticking out from pocket slots, etc

·      Iron skillet on ground halfway between body and fire

·      Laptop on folding camp chair

·      Mobile phone on ground near chair

·      Bruises on side of woman’s head and on man’s forehead

·      Half smoked cigarette NOT crushed out on ground, the unlit smoked end pointing away from bodies

·      Two tin plates and utensils, tin of soup, package of buns, two apples, flask, plastic container containing cake, a second smaller plastic container containing luncheon meat, jar of mustard and jar of mayonnaise all sitting on the folding table

·      Other common camp items not touched: opened box of tinned food and an ice chest, small camping cooker, two canoe paddles, two life jackets, two rolled up sleeping bags, one hammock strung behind two trees farther from the tent, two rucksacks buckled shut and not opened, bow and quiver of arrows

·      Third victim, lying face down beneath hammock. Dark stain on his back and the near side of shirt

 

McLaren smiled. Despite Jamie’s jest about Paula and the catsup, she evidently had indulged herself to a degree, for the catsup had trickled down the lone male victim’s side and pooled onto the ground.

 

He gave one last look at the site, making sure he had noted everything he thought relevant, and walked back to the house.

 

Jamie must’ve been waiting, impatient for his friend’s deduction and opinion of the scene, for he held the door open and steered McLaren to a corner of the kitchen. The eagerness showed in his voice, and his words came fast. “Well? How is it? Did Paula empty every catsup bottle we have? Did you figure out whodunit?”

 

Paula set a near-empty plate of caviar puffs on the worktop, her free hand on the handle of the refrigerator, and looked at McLaren. A smile played around the corners of her mouth. “Back so soon, Mike? You’ve either cracked it in thirty seconds or you’ve realized how hopeless your deductive attempt is and admitted defeat.” She wiped her hands on a towel and laid it over the handle of the cooker. The appliance was new, like the rest of the recently renovated kitchen, and blended well with the other areas of the house: modern, minimalist in design, and in a neutral color scheme.

 

“Don’t be daft. Of course he solved it. He came back because he wanted another of my caviar puffs.” Jamie glanced at the plate. “They’re going fast. People evidently know haute cuisine when they taste it. You have more, Hon?”

 

“Yes, Dear. I’m just getting them now.” She placed more puffs on the plate, and returned the extras to the fridge.

 

“You want another one, Mike?” Jamie turned to get a small plate from the stack on the worktop, but McLaren’s voice stopped him.

 

“Not just yet, Jamie.” McLaren ran his fingers through his blond hair, as though stimulating his brain. “Are you trying to make it hard for us former detective inspectors, Paula? From your game introduction, I didn’t expect more than one method of death for your victims. Though there could be, I suppose, but it’s slightly hard to decipher what happened without moving the bodies.”  

 

There was something in McLaren’s tone that wiped the enthusiasm from Jamie’s voice. His slight physique stiffened as his friend continued frowning. “What’s wrong? The tent blow over? Do I need to fix up the crime scene?”

 

McLaren shook his head. “You need to fix my misconception of the game.”

 

“What do you mean? Paula set up a crime. You’re supposed to glean the clues and figure out a suspect. Can’t you do it?” Without waiting for his friend’s reply, Jamie turned to his wife. “I know you’re not in the job, Paula, but I didn’t think laying around an old gun or whatever would be so confusing that Mike can’t fathom what happened.”

 

Paula drew in a deep breath. “Now, just a minute, Jamie. I couldn’t have done too badly. Didn’t you hear that group that came in before Mike? They were talking about how realistic the scene looked. I think it’s the rucksacks—“

 

McLaren held up his hand, cutting off her retort. “Unfortunately, I wish it were that simple. I’m confused about the set-up. I thought you told us that a man and woman were camping.”

 

“They are…er, were, yes.”

 

“And that they are the murder victims.”

 

Something must’ve whispered to Jamie that not all was right. He frowned, staring at his friend. “What’s the matter, Mike? You’re all serious.”

 

“Confused, as I said. I’d like to know why you say there are two murder victims, Paula, when there are obviously three.”

 

Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):

 

 

 

 

What makes your featured book a must-read?

 

The mystery is involved, with several threads. But Callum Hale’s narration puts the story on a different level—he breaths depth and emotions into the characters, and plunges you into the scenes.  You become one with the action, looking on as the plot unfolds.  Callum is an extraordinary talent.

 

Giveaway –


Enter to win a $10 Amazon gift card:



Open Internationally.

 

Runs September 24 – September 30, 2024.


Winner will be drawn on October 1, 2024.

 

Author Biography:

 

Jo A. Hiestand grew up on regular doses of music, books, and Girl Scout camping. She gravitated toward writing in her post-high school years and finally did something sensible about it, graduating from Webster University with a BA degree in English and departmental honors. She writes a British mystery series (the McLaren Mysteries)—of which three books have garnered the prestigious N.N. Light’s Book Heaven ‘Best Mystery Novel’ three years straight. She also writes a Missouri-based cozy mystery series that is grounded in places associated with her camping haunts. The camping is a thing of the past, for the most part, but the music stayed with her in the form of playing guitar and harpsichord, and singing in a folk group. Jo carves jack o’ lanterns badly and sings loudly. She loves barbecue sauce and ice cream (separately, not together), kilts (especially if men wear them), clouds and stormy skies, and the music of G.F. Handel. You can usually find her pulling mystery plots out of scenery—whether from photographs or the real thing.

 

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