Can you, in less than five words describe your book Dead Monk Walking?Fun, paranormal mystery.
Who is your favourite character in this book? Natasha Bolde is a total skeptic when it comes to the paranormal, but she’s forced to rethink her beliefs when she comes face-to-face with a ghost. Soon she and the ghost are working together to solve a five-hundred-year-old mystery.
What inspired you to write it? Cornwall was a huge inspiration. I’ve long wanted to set a story in this lovely part of Britain. It was great fun creating a mystery that used Cornish legends and some of the wonderful historical sites.
And here’s the excerpt!
After making my way past the herbaceous border, I pushed open the rusted gate in an old stone wall and made my way into the less cultivated part of the garden. To my left, a swath of undulating land was dominated by several beautiful oaks. To my right, a path led to the Monk’s Grove. I turned right. Not because I expected to see the ghostly monk, but because the grove looked interesting and mysterious. I’d helped Clover with a couple of cases, and found that I enjoyed solving mysteries even if I wasn’t very good at it. I had expected to improve under Clover’s mentorship, but that wouldn’t happen now.
Swallowing my tears, I entered the Monk’s Grove. It was cooler beneath the trees. Gray shadows mingled with the scent of recent rain. I followed the path, which wound between neatly trimmed shrubs, until I reached a little clearing with two stone benches. The birdcalls seemed muted here and the leaves in the trees were unnaturally still. A faint scent of decay hung in the air. There was a feeling of nature holding its breath, waiting.
I heard a rustle in the bushes and turned toward the sound. Near the far side of the clearing, a figure was moving through the shrubs. I couldn’t see much below his shoulders, but his head was covered by a dark hood like a monk’s cowl. Was someone dressed up pretending to be the ghost? Did all the guests get this haunted-grove experience? Was it part of the package? Too bad I wasn’t in the mood to play nice.
“Hey! You!” I called. “I don’t believe in ghosts, so you might as well go have a tea break or something.”
When the figure didn’t respond, I marched across the clearing determined to identify him. Shrubs and undergrowth separated us, but I could see that his head was bowed, and the hood was pulled down to conceal his face. He seemed to be searching for something on the ground. His sleeves had been rolled up to the elbows and the exposed skin was covered in dirt. One hand clutched a trowel.
“Hey,” I called again. This time he turned toward me. The hood fell back revealing the face of a woman.
Rivers of dark hair spilled over her shoulders, contrasting sharply with her pale cheeks. She looked to be about thirty, average height, but too thin. She was wearing a dark hoodie, not a monk’s habit. Her vacant eyes looked right through me. “I have to find them. I have to find them,” she mumbled.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
She blinked, her eyes struggling to focus. “I know they’re here somewhere.”
“If you tell me what you’re searching for I’ll help you find it.”
She shook her head as though an explanation was beyond her. Then she set off, weaving between the trees, muttering, “I have to find them. I have to find them.”
I followed her through the shrubs, pushing branches aside.
Thanks for sharing Janni.
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