The Three Dahlias by Katy Watson #blogtour #bookspotlight #excerpt

Thank you Mobius Books, #partner, for the finished copy of The Three Dahlias in exchange for my honest review.

 

 

Today, I’m so happy to be a tour stop on the blog tour for The Three Dahlias – I have a spotlight & excerpt for you to read. Thank you Mobius Books for inviting me to participate.

Publisher: Mobius Books

Published: July 26, 2022

 

Summary:

Three rival actresses team up to solve a murder at the stately home of the author who made them famous – only to discover the solution lies in the stories themselves. A contemporary mystery with a Golden Age feel, perfect for fans of Agatha Christie and Jessica Fellowes.

In attendance: the VIP fans, staying at Aldermere; the fan club president turned convention organizer; the team behind the newest movie adaptation of Davenport’s books; the Davenport family themselves – and the three actresses famous for portraying Lettice’s 1930s detective, Dahlia Lively.

National treasure Rosalind King, from the original movies. TV Dahlia for thirteen seasons, Caro Hooper. And ex-child star Posy Starling, fresh out of the fame wilderness (and rehab) to take on the Dahlia mantle for the new movie.

Each actress has her own interpretation of the character – but this English summer weekend they will have to put aside their differences, as the crimes at Aldermere turns anything but cosy.

When fictional death turns into real bodies, can the three Dahlias find the answers to the murders among the fans, the film crew, the family – or even in Lettice’s books themselves?

 

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EXCERPT

CHAPTER 6

Dahlia smiled at him, as she signed another autograph for one of the
girls dressed in a flattering facsimile of her own appearance. ‘Oh, Johnnie.
Don’t be jealous, now. I don’t suppose policemen really get ‘fans’, do they?’

Dahlia Lively in Fame and Misfortune
By Lettice Davenport, 1967

 

Lunch was being served in the ballroom which, Isobel told them airily as she deposited them at the bottom of the stairs, was through the drawing room. The group dispersed, mostly in the same direction, but Posy held back and watched them go, still wondering if one of them was her blackmailer.

It was the photos that had her on edge. The idea that someone had been watching her when she was at her most vulnerable. Capturing that moment to share with, potentially, the world.

The idea that they could still be watching her, right now, without her knowledge.

It made her blood run cold.

Posy stopped by the reception desk at the front door hoping to see Clementine – and maybe her phone – but there was no sign of either. Instead, she picked up a copy of the map of Aldermere House and Grounds and studied it.

There, at the far edge of the paper, beside the wavy blue lines that seemed to represent a river, and the childishly drawn trees beside it, was a circle marked Folly. So that was where her blackmailer wanted to meet her.

Posy shoved the map in her bag and headed into lunch.

The ballroom was packed. Posy assumed the diners were speakers and guests at the convention, or people who’d bought tickets to eat with them. Marcus didn’t seem shy about selling access to the house, or the stars he’d invited, even if he hadn’t cleared that with them first. Which creeped Posy out a bit, especially after seeing those photos.

In one corner, at a prettily laid circular table, Caro held court with some of the VIP fans from the tour that morning. From the laughter and table banging going on, Posy assumed she was telling more tales of her time as Dahlia Lively.

Rosalind sat at a smaller table, with Isobel and Juliette, who Posy noticed was texting on her phone under the table. She couldn’t see Anton or Kit anywhere, but then she spotted Libby on the far side of the room. The writer was holding a cup of coffee close to her chest as she stood by the large picture window, looking out over the lawns
and stalls at the side of Aldermere House. Skipping the queue at the serving stations for now, Posy grabbed a cup of coffee and headed over to join her, mentally rehearsing her questions as she went. She liked Libby, she didn’t want her to be a blackmailer. But if she was, Posy intended to find out.

‘How’s it going?’ Posy asked, leaning against the windowsill beside her.

Libby blinked, apparently surprised by her appearance, then gave her a tentative smile. ‘Oh, okay. It’s . . . weird being here, is all.’

‘Yeah.’ Posy surveyed the room around them. Even beyond all the people in 1930s and ’40s dress – not forgetting the guy in slacks and a Christmas jumper – she felt like she had slipped through time.

Posy lowered her voice. ‘I’ll be honest, this place gives me the creeps. That dollhouse in the hallway . . .’ She shuddered, making Libby chuckle.

‘I don’t mind it so much. But then, I’ve been spending the last few months writing about murders and such somewhere like this, so maybe I’ve just got used to it.’

‘Of course you have.’ Posy cast around for an innocuous way into the questions she really wanted to ask. ‘But you’re a latecomer to the project, like me, right? Had you worked with Anton before? Is that why he brought you in?’

Libby shook her head. ‘No, but my agent had, a few times. And she knows I’m a huge Lettice Davenport fan, so when Anton contacted her looking for a script doctor I guess I was the obvious choice.’

Seemed like everyone involved was a lifelong Dahlia fan, except Posy. ‘What do you love most about her books?’

Head tilted, Libby considered the question. ‘I guess they’ve always been part of my life – my gran gave me one to read when I was about eleven, and I never looked back. Where I grew up, we were kind of in the middle of nowhere, so books and movies were my escape. My way to see the world. I suppose they still are.’ She gave Posy a small, embarrassed smile. ‘Anyway. Being here at Aldermere, where Lettice wrote so many of her books, is incredible to me. I felt like I knew the place before I even stepped foot inside.’

Hadn’t she mentioned something about maps of Aldermere, when they’d arrived. ‘You must know it pretty well from all your research, too. Doesn’t it have a folly somewhere?’

‘Uh, yes, I think so. I’m not quite sure where. Down by the river, maybe?’ Libby scrunched up her face as if trying to remember. ‘It’s not a feature in the script, so I didn’t really spend much time on it.’

The confusion could be an act, but Posy didn’t think so. She ploughed on with her second question.

‘You said on the train that the script is done. Do you think we’ll all have the final version soon?’

Libby shrugged. ‘Anton forwarded it on to the “important stakeholders” a few days ago.’ Anton’s words, Posy guessed, from the way Libby put air quotes around the phrase. ‘I’m not sure who he counts as important, though.’

‘Not the lead actress, apparently.’ But Libby, Anton or one of his ‘stakeholders’ had ripped a page from the script and used it as a blackmail note. A way of telling her that she had to pay attention, that the person who had her photos had the ear of her director, too.

Maybe Libby was too obvious a suspect. If she’d wanted to blackmail Posy, using the script pages was about as obvious as signing the damn note. No, Posy didn’t think Libby was behind this. Which meant she had to talk to Anton next, and find out who else had the script – or if he was behind it himself. Why a director would try to
blackmail his lead actress was beyond her, but she wasn’t ruling anything out yet.

Where was Anton, anyway? And Kit for that matter? She hadn’t seen them since this morning. If she had to take part in this convention, why didn’t they?

Libby was peering over Posy’s shoulder again, but when Posy looked she couldn’t see anything behind her except the window, and the guy in the Christmas jumper telling cracker jokes at the dessert table.

‘I’m sure you’ll get it soon,’ Libby said, but she sounded distracted. Draining her coffee cup, she placed it too close to the edge of the windowsill, and it clattered to the ground, splashing the dregs of her coffee over her skirt. ‘Oh, damn it!

Aware that people were turning to look at them, Posy dropped to her knees at Libby’s side, thrusting a napkin from the nearest table towards her. Together, they mopped up the few drops that had hit the carpet, and righted the coffee cup beside the saucer that had shattered into several pieces as the cup landed on it, before Isobel came bustling over.

‘Are you okay? Where are the catering staff?’ One hand on her hip, Isobel wafted some paper towels towards them, but didn’t get down and help. ‘This is why Hugh told Marcus we didn’t want the daytime events inside the house.’

‘It’s fine,’ Posy told her, straightening up. ‘I think Libby got the worst of it.’

‘Oh, you poor dear. Did it scald you? I have some cream somewhere . . .’ Isobel fussed over Libby with a concerned smile.

One of the catering staff, dressed as a 1930s domestic maid, hurried across the room to them, and Isobel handed her a wodge of coffee-stained paper towels. ‘Ah, there you are! Can you finish clearing this up, please?’

‘Of course, ma’am.’ The maid knew her part well, it seemed. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I was just fixing a camomile and ginger tea for Mr. Fisher.’

That made Isobel tut good-naturedly. ‘Of course. Marcus and his tea. Do you know,’ she said, leaning towards Posy as she murmured the words, ‘the first time he came here for a meeting about the convention, he couldn’t believe I didn’t still keep his particular favourite tea in the kitchens. He actually sent his assistant . . . you know, Clementine? He sent her out to the nearest shop, five miles away, to buy some. Honestly! I did feel for the poor girl. You’d think he’d carry it with him, if he’s that particular, wouldn’t you?’

‘Do you need more coffee, miss?’ the maid asked, and Posy shook her head.

‘It wasn’t mine. It was—’ She turned to indicate Libby, but she was gone. ‘Libby’s. I guess she must have gone to get changed.’

‘Ah, Isobel!’ Marcus approached them, sipping from a white china cup just like all the others. ‘Good to see you still have my special tea in. Have to drink it quickly now though. Almost time for the murder mystery!’

‘That sounds like fun,’ Posy said. Actually, it sounded kind of excruciating. Hundreds of wannabe detectives racing around the grounds trying to solve a contrived murder before everyone else. ‘I’m looking forward to watching it.’

‘Oh, you’ll be doing more than watching, my dear!’ With an extreme jollity Posy felt was unfounded, Marcus grinned and leaned in close enough for her to smell the gingery tea on his breath. ‘You’ll
be taking part. We’ve all got our parts to play in the murder mystery!’

‘Really?’ Posy asked, weakly. ‘What, exactly, am I going to need to do?’

Tapping the side of his nose, Marcus grinned again, showing yellowing teeth in his red face. ‘Just you wait! All will be revealed . . .’

 

Excerpted from The Three Dahlias by Katy Watson, Copyright © 2022 by Katy Watson. Published by Mobius Books. 

 

What do you think? Is this something you might be adding to your tbr? I definitely plan on reading it soon and once I do, I’ll be sure to post my review here.