asexual – A. L. Lester

#SampleSunday… The Quid Pro Quo

I’m jumping on the #SampleSunday hashtag on twitter this week, with an excerpt from The Quid Pro Quo for you…

The Quid Pro Quo is a romantic historical paranormal murder-mystery set in 1920s rural England where nearly everyone is queer and the main couple is m/transm. Think Agatha Christie, but queer! With monsters! It’s the sequel to The Fog of War, but it works as a standalone set in the Border Magic universe.

Simon pressed the heel of his hand down onto the place the pain was radiating from. That usually helped. He sometimes wondered if there was anything still left in there. He should probably get it looked at. X-rayed, they called it, didn’t they? The hospital in Taunton had a machine, he knew.
He sighed. “Look, I didn’t just come up to show off my weaknesses to you.”
Kennett made a harrumphing sound that could have been a laugh.
“I came to ask about two things. Her alibi. And the way she describes what happened at the seance.”
“Look,” Kennett drew a breath and said in a firm voice, “she didn’t do it.”
Simon glared up at him, not quite ready to get up off the bench and fall over into the other man’s arms again. “That’s all very well. But you can’t just say that and then tell me you can’t say why you know!”
Kennett screwed up his face. “I just can’t, Mr Frost. And that’s all there is to it.”
Simon managed to stand. For all Kennett was small, he was intimidating. He scowled furiously up at Simon, face creased with anger. There was no trace of the sardonic wit about him now.
“Was she with you that night?” Simon asked quietly. It seemed unlikely, a girl like Miss Hall-Bridges and Kennett, who was a good twenty years older than her if he was a day and a lowly ex-soldier to boot. But he’d seen stranger relationships.
Kennett choked. “Bloody hell, no!” he said, almost with a shudder. “Absolutely definitely the wrong tree, Detective Frost!” There! He did return Simon’s interest, else Simon was a Dutchman.
Simon took another wobbling step forward and Kennett stepped back. Simon finally felt as if he was getting somewhere. There was something there. Why were they all protecting the woman? It was clear she was the best suspect—on paper, she had reason. But it was also clear that despite the evidence, nobody thought she’d done it. Including Simon.
Not that a lot of other people didn’t have reason to dislike the victim as well by the sound of it. His take-away from speaking to people who knew her painted a picture of the deceased as an entitled, arrogant woman who expected people to jump to her tune. He stopped that train of thought. There was never a reason to kill anyone. Never. Just because most of the people he knew had spent the last few years seeing that as the solution to all their problems didn’t mean it was right.
He drew a breath. “Then point me toward the right tree for goodness sake! If you have evidence that it wasn’t her, you’re morally obliged to let me have it!” he said, finally after a moment of silence.
Kennett shook his head again. “No, Detective Frost. I can’t. It’s not my place.”
Simon eyed him narrowly. He was backed up against the wall of the hallway, calm and not at all intimidated by Simon’s greater height.
“Do you know who killed her?” Simon asked him.
Kennett’s eyes flicked away and back again. He shook his head. “No. I don’t.” He knew something though. He finally sighed and stepped forward, putting him chest to chest with Simon and Simon had no alternative but to step to one side and let him past unless he wanted to make something of it. And he didn’t. He really didn’t. He moved aside.
Simon was left looking after him as he went down the hall to the kitchen, the door propped open against the building heat of the day. He followed him into the room, watching him fill the kettle and put it on, helplessly standing there with his hands fisted in frustration at his sides, hot with irritation in the warmth of the morning and the lit range.
“We’re done here,” Kennett said, sliding the kettle onto the hotplate and turning to face him. “You should leave, before Dr Marks gets home.”
“What, so you can sort out an alibi for Miss Hall-Bridges between you?” Simon said snarkily.
There was quite a long pause and then, from behind him, Dr Marks’ voice, deep and calm and very, very flat said, “No need, Detective Frost. Lucy and I share a bed. She didn’t go anywhere, all night.”
The silence was as absolute as if a shell had gone off and deafened him.
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AMazon

publisher

everywhere else

Announcing The Quid Pro Quo

So, here’s some news! The Quid Pro Quo will be out on the 20th November and here’s the cover and an excerpt!

It’s the second in the Bradfield trilogy following The Fog of War and stars Walter, Sylvia’s nurse-friend; and Simon, a local detective who visits Bradfield to investigate a murder.

The Quid Pro Quo

Village nurse Walter Kennett is content with his makeshift found-family in tiny Bradfield. However one midsummer morning a body is found floating in the village duck pond, dead by magical means.
Detective Simon Frost arrives in Bradfield to investigate a inexplicable murder. The evidence seems to point to Lucille Hall-Bridges, who lives with doctor Sylvia Marks and nurse Walter Kennett at Courtfield House. Simon isn’t happy—he doesn’t believe Lucy is a murderer but he’s sure the three of them are hiding something. In the meantime, the draw he feels toward Walter takes him by surprise.

Walter is in a dilemma, concealing Sylvia and Lucy’s relationship and not knowing how much to tell Frost about the paranormal possibilities of the murder. He isn’t interested in going to bed with anyone—he’s got a complicated life and has to know someone really well before he falls between the sheets. He’s taken aback by his own attraction to Detective Frost and angry when Frost appears to twist the spark between them to something transactional in nature.

Will Walter be satisfied to stay on the periphery of Lucy and Sylvia’s love affair, a welcome friend but never quite included? Or is it time for him to strike out and embark on a relationship of his own?

The second in the Bradfield trilogy, set in the Border Magic universe. With a transm/m couple. Read The Fog of War first and/or add The Quid Pro Quo to Goodreads.

As Simon was replacing the device on the telephone table a pretty young woman put her head out of a door at toward the end of the hall. “Sylv!” she said, “Do you want tea? I’ve boiled the kettle.” and then when she realised he wasn’t who she thought he was, “Oh, I do beg your pardon! I thought you were Dr Marks!”.

“She’s still in the surgery,” Simon nodded across the hall.

The woman emerged into the hall. “Lucille Hall-Bridges,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m a friend of Sylvia’s. I help with the house.”

Simon took her hand in his. Her grip was sure and warm. “Detective Frost,” he replied. “Nice to meet you, Miss Hall-Bridges. She had a recent bruise running from her jaw to just below her eye, entering the black-and-purple stage.

“I’ve made a pot of tea,” she was saying. “I don’t know whether anyone will want any, but I do like to feel useful and tea is so…normal-making, isn’t it?”

He nodded, slightly bemused at her chatter. “Yes, indeed,” he said. “Very normal.”

She gave a perfunctory tap on the surgery door, opened it and disappeared inside without waiting for a response. “Sylv, Walter, I’ve made tea. Would you and your detective like to come into the drawing room?” Her voice faded, presumably as she joined them in the examination room.

There was a pause. Then, “Oh!” he heard her say. “Oh.” She sounded a little shocked. “What’s happened to her hands?” she asked.

“Scraped on the bottom on the pond I think,” Simon heard Dr Marks say. “She was face-down in the water.”

“Oh.” Miss Hall-Bridges’ voice was small. “Sylvia…there’s…she’s…I can feel…do you think…?” Her voice trailed off and Dr Marks spoke over her, clearly away they might be overhead.

“Let’s not worry about that now, shall we? The policeman is sending her down to Taunton to a postmortem. You go and take the tea-things into the drawing room. We’ll just cover her up.”

The Quid Pro Quo by A. L. Lester. Trans MC, historical, paranormal, 1920s England.

Guest Interview: SI CLARKE

This week, SI CLARKE pops in for a chat about her new release The Left Hand of Dog!

Morning, Si! Why are you doing this interview?

I have a new book that just came out a few weeks ago: The Left Hand of Dog. It’s the first in a new series called Starship Teapot.

What started you writing?

I’d dabbled in writing at various points in my life. I’d written the odd article. At one point, I was an avid blogger. And through most of my life, I had certain story ideas I always said I’d turn into a book … eventually. I’d even tried writing a book a few times. But it never went anywhere.

Late in 2017, I was made redundant from my job. I felt myself beginning to slide into a depression. I’d get up in the morning, walk the dogs – and then lie down on the sofa. And I wouldn’t really move again until my partner got home at dinnertime.

I did that for a week. On the Monday of the next week, I lay down on the sofa – and then promptly stood back up again. ‘No, I’m not going to do this.’ Whether I was talking to myself or to my dogs or just to no one, I still don’t really know.

But I walked over to my desk and sat down to start planning my first novel. And even though I have a full-time job now, I haven’t looked back since.

Where do you write?

I’ve been working from home on a full-time basis since the start of the pandemic and I’ve got a really cushy setup with my funky ergonomic kneeling chair and two large, curved monitors. It’s sad, but I spend each work day facing one screen – and then at dinnertime, I turn my chair a few degrees to the right and work on my writing.

But I’ve also been known to write in unconventional locations. I finished the first draft of my first novel on my phone, while weaving and dodging through the underground shopping centre in Canary Wharf. I started the first draft of a book I still haven’t written while weaving and dodging through the pedestrians in Deptford Market on a Saturday. Honestly, it’s a miracle I don’t walk into more stationary objects than I already do.

What do you like to read?

I mainly read science fiction. But occasionally venture into fantasy, mysteries, historical fiction, and thrillers. Once I read a thriller novel set in London. The main character went to investigate the second murder in the story. He named where the house was in relation to the train station and what he saw looking out the window of the main bedroom, where the corpse was still lying. And I realised – he was standing in my house, in my bedroom. Maybe I should stay away from thriller novels.

But really what I love are books that dig deep into characters. And I love characters that aren’t stale, male, pale, cis-het, neurotypical.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

I have two dogs, both rescues. Ozzy will be nine next month. I met him in 2015 when I spent my holiday volunteering at a bear sanctuary in Romania. The sanctuary is an amazing place. They rescue and rehabilitate bears from all across Central and Eastern Europe – mainly from captivity, but sometimes wild bear cubs that have been abandoned and wouldn’t survive on their own.

My experience at LiBEARty was incredible – but I quickly realised they had all the help they needed already. So I spoke to the organiser and asked if we could be of more use at the dog shelter run by the same team.

We arrived at the shelter during a thunderstorm when 499 dogs were howling at the top of their lungs. And one dog stood on top of his house, smiling and begging for my attention. Three weeks later, he was lying on my sofa.

Lemmy came from the same rescue group three years later.

Tell me a little bit about your most recent release. What gave you the idea for it? How long did it take to write? What did you enjoy about writing it? What did you hate?

In October 2020, I sat down to write something silly. Something that would make me feel better about life, the universe, and everything.

So many of the early reviews have said something along the lines of ‘this was exactly what I needed right now.’ It was so much fun to write. I loved every second of it and I hope readers do too.

The Left Hand of Dog features an aro-ace agender main character, Lem. Together with her dog, she’s kidnapped by incompetent bounty hunters from outer space. It features a talkative horse, an unswearing robot, an overly anxious giant parrot, and a cloud of sentient glitter gas. All on the run from the bunnyboos.

The Left Hand of Dog

Escaping intergalactic kidnappers has never been quite so ridiculous.

When Lem and her faithful dog, Spock, retreat from the city for a few days of hiking in Algonquin Park, the last thing they expect is to be kidnapped by aliens. No, scratch that. The last thing they expect is to be kidnapped by a bunch of strangely adorable intergalactic bounty hunters aboard a ship called the Teapot.

After Lem falls in with an unlikely group of allies – including a talking horse, a sarcastic robot, an overly anxious giant parrot, and a cloud of sentient glitter gas – the gang must devise a cunning plan to escape their captors and make it back home safely.

But things won’t be as easy as they first seem. Lost in deep space and running out of fuel, this chaotic crew are faced with the daunting task of navigating an alien planet, breaking into a space station, and discovering the real reason they’re all there…

Packed with preposterous scenarios, quirky characters, and oodles of humour, The Left Hand of Dog tackles complex subjects such as gender, the need to belong, and the importance of honest communication. Perfect for fans of Charlie Jane Anders’ Victories Greater than Death – especially ones who enjoy endless references to Red Dwarf, Star Trek, and Doctor Who. This book will show you that the universe is a very strange place indeed.

Buy Left Hand of Dog! If you opt to buy it direct from me, you’ll get 20% off with code LIMFIC2021.

Meet SI CLARKE

SI CLARKE is a Canadian misanthrope who lives in Deptford, sarf ees London. She shares her home with her partner and an assortment of waifs and strays. When not writing convoluted, inefficient stories, she spends her time telling financial services firms to behave more efficiently. When not doing either of those things, she can be found in the pub or shouting at people online – occasionally practising efficiency by doing both at once.  

As someone who’s neurodivergent, an immigrant, and the proud owner of an invisible disability, she strives to present a diverse array of characters in her stories.

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