A Time For Murder

By Ray Lomberd

Wealth. Fame. A hit show nominated for an award. Maddie Harker, reality TV star, has it all. She also has an overzealous producer, a mischievous ex-boyfriend, and a jealous sister ready to stab her in the back at every opportunity.

When a rival is brutally murdered on the night of an awards show, Maddie becomes a suspect.

Another attack points the finger of blame at a sinister stalker. But as Maddie searches for the truth she realizes no one can be trusted, and begins to suspect those around her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ray Lomberd
• Release date: Dec 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223349204

Book preview

Chapter 1

No, stop. Sorry, guys, this isn’t working. Owen, give us a moment. We’re going to have to do it again.

Okay, Chad.

What have I done wrong now?

Harry, Harry, please let’s leave the mundane stuff for later.

Later? I need to know what to get for dinner tonight.

Sorry, Harry, it’s boring. Our viewers aren’t interested in whether you’re having spaghetti or fish and chips. They want to hear about Marcus.

Marcus can go –

Harry, please, I pleaded.

Maddie, can’t we even have a normal breakfast together? It’s bad enough that I had the camera man jumping out at me when I got out of the shower this morning. He scared the shit out of me. I’m lucky I didn’t slip and crack my skull open. Though I suppose that would have boosted the ratings.

Sorry, mate, Owen mumbled from behind the camera that seemed permanently attached to his face.

Harry, please, let’s just get this out of the way.

Then what? Five minutes together and you’re gone? When you’re not out there promoting yourself, you’re here with the television crew. When do I get to spend time alone with you these days, Maddie? Or do I have to make an appointment with your agent?

Harry, mate, why don’t you take a break for ten minutes? Chad suggested.

I thought you –

No, it’s fine. Take a break.

Okay, maybe I should. Sorry, Maddie.

It’s okay, love.

Poor Harry. I don’t think he realized what he was getting into when he agreed to do this. Though he has been patient up to now, bless him. I think the television crew surprising him in our bedroom the other evening must have been too much for him. We were getting ready to go out for a meal. If I had known he wanted a quickie, I would have warned him, but he caught me by surprise, and you really don’t get the chance to say much when someone’s shoving their tongue down your throat every time you open your mouth. Understandably, it was quite a shock when Chad – our very enthusiastic and very tactless producer, and the creator of the show (How many times have I been reminded about that?) – burst into the bedroom with the whole crew. I suppose it didn’t help that Harry had his pants pulled down to his knees, and, how to put this delicately, was very aroused at the time. I really hope they don’t put that into the show. He’s still a little shy of all the publicity, and I’m not sure he would appreciate that kind of exposure. I had better check with Chad to be on the safe side.

Sorry, I’m jumping ahead. I should introduce myself. My name is Maddie Harker. You might have heard of me. Social influencer and reality TV star. I’ve also recently started my own fashion brand, which is getting a major boost at the moment because of the show. Oh, I’ve also appeared in a number of other shows as well. There was Celebrity Chef Wars (first to be kicked out for my burnt and boozy Coq Au Vin, and probably because I set fire to the kitchen making the Coq Au Vin); the dance show Stars on the Floor (really hope my dance partner, Ivan, has fully recovered from that injury – he broke my fall and I broke his leg); and Survival in the Wild (I didn’t last the week. I prefer my food dead and served on a plate with potatoes and garnish, not creeping and crawling up my arm like a leftover from a horror movie). I’ve also had two autobiographies published, which isn’t bad for someone in their thirties. I’ve decided to write one every ten years.

I’m available, well, for anything really, nightclubs, private parties, festivals, corporate events, – if you’ve got the money, I’ll be there. As Angie says - Angie’s my agent – you’ve got to take advantage of the opportunities while they’re there, because when it’s over, baby, you’ll be doing kids parties, Christmas pantomime shows, and singalongs at retirement homes with all the other z-listers no one remembers.

I have no argument with that. Before I became successful, I was working in a dead-end job that paid minimum wage, counting every penny and barely managing to get by, and struggling with numerous loans I could only hope to finish paying off when I was a pensioner, if I was lucky. I rented a small open-plan flat – and by open-plan, I mean the bedroom, kitchen and living room were all in arm’s reach of one another. I had to clear away furniture to pull down the wall bed when I wanted to go to sleep every night. As for eating, my cat, Millie, ate better than me. At least she had more variety. I was living on spaghetti hoops on toast, baked beans on toast, cheese on toast – well, you get the idea. I did try to be more creative, but you know it’s not a good sign when your cat sniffs indecisively at the scraps, looks up at you with dismay, and brushes against your leg in sympathy as they walk away. As my brief stint on Celebrity Chef Wars confirmed, I can’t cook to save my life.

But don’t get the wrong idea about me. I take work where I can find it, I do what I have to do to get publicity, but it doesn’t mean I’ll demean myself or let anyone take advantage of me. I will never take off my clothes, no matter how much money I’m offered, and when it comes to guest appearances, I’m happy to do chatter, comedy routines, and even throw in a few songs. I do not take too kindly to being groped by sweaty, deodorant-free, drunken morons insisting that it’s what I want. If I wanted it, you would know, trust me. I abhor violence, but I’m more than happy to make an exception if any handsy lech tries it on, and I’ve left behind enough injured groins across the country to prove it.

Anyway, back to the reality show. I’m pleased to say our third season is airing at the moment and has been very successful. The response on social and press media after every show has been amazing, especially now my sister, Jemma, and my mother have become regulars. People want to know everything – what you’re wearing, what you’re doing, and who you’re doing. Especially who you’re doing. There’s seems to be a lot of speculation about who I’m doing at the moment, and unfortunately there’s a lot of memes with Harry looking very unhappy about it on the internet. I should say I dated Marcus in the first season of the show. We broke up by the end of it, but he’s still in the show. I met Harry mid-way during the second season, and he’s the one for me. I have no intention of getting back with Marcus. Yes, we do appearances together. Yes, it gives us publicity. Yes, it keeps the viewers tuning in every week to see what happens. But I love Harry. He’s got absolutely nothing to worry about.

Okay, I’m ready, Harry said sheepishly, entering the kitchen.

I looked up at him. Are you okay, love?

Sorry for the tantrum, Maddie. It’s just – He stopped and glanced warily at the waiting crew.

I know, I said. Let’s do something special this weekend, just you and me.

He smiled broadly. You mean it?

I nodded. Yes, I mean it. Anything you want.

No backing out?

No backing out, I promised.

Satisfied, he sat down. I reached out and squeezed his hand.

Oh, that’s a good way to start the scene, Chad said, wiping the smile off Harry’s face. Let’s start with that. When you’re ready, Harry.

Harry took a deep breath, creased his brow, and started the scene. You’re spending more time with Marcus than me these days.

That’s not true, I protested.

Isn’t it? What time did you come home last night?

That wasn’t Marcus’s fault or mine. There were technical problems.

What about last week? You went out to dinner with him.

After the event. We were hungry. It was just a dinner.

Harry’s face reddened. It’s only part of the show, Harry, I pleaded inwardly. Don’t take it seriously. 

It didn’t look like just a dinner in those paparazzi photos, he went on. His fucking hands were all over you.

He was just being friendly. Marcus is like that with everyone. Harry, there’s nothing going on between us.

There was though. With all the time you’re spending together, what’s to stop it from happening again?

I shook my head angrily. Now you’re just being childish. You’re the one with the problem.

You don’t care about how I feel, he responded, pulling his hand away. Well, do what you want with Marcus. Fuck him if you want.

Maybe I will.

We had finished. With the scene out of the way, there was a strained silence left between us.

Unfortunately, it was broken by the wrong person.

Oh my God, that’s great, Chad said, coming forward and grinning at us. That’s a wrap, folks.

Chapter 2

A day in the life of a reality TV star can’t be mundane or repetitive. Once that happens, you’ll have your audience looking elsewhere for their nightly entertainment. But you don’t have to worry about that when you have a sadistic director ready to put you through just about anything to keep people watching.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Over the past three years on a reality TV show, I’ve learnt many things. I’ve learnt that viewers want to see everything, the good and the bad, the successes and the failures, those touching moments of joy – and those excruciating moments of humiliation. That’s what the viewers tune in for every week, and you’ve got to keep them happy to stop them from switching off. I’ve also learnt that from the comfort of their own homes, our viewers are also quite happy to watch the star of the show do things that no one in their right mind would do if they had any sense. Signing a waiver to relieve someone of any responsibility if you get injured or killed should set those alarm bells ringing straight away. But here I am, shaking like jelly on a washing machine, my stomach turning somersaults, waiting to jump out of a bloody plane. As the saying goes, if God had meant us to fly, he would have given us wings.

You’ll be fine, Maddie, Stuart, my overly confident publicist, said dismissively, slapping me on the back, making my stomach lurch.

Of course she will, Chad agreed, grinning with a little too much pleasure for my liking. Now, remember not to block the camera on your helmet, or else we might have to shoot the jump again. 

A piece of advice if you ever find yourself in a reality TV show: if you don’t want to be humiliated and tortured for the nation’s entertainment, keep your publicist and producer as far apart from each other as possible.

I shook my head. I don’t think I can do this.

It’s for charity, Stuart reminded me. You’ve got to do it.

No, sorry, I can’t. I want my feet back on solid ground where they belong, not treading the open air 3,500 above the ground. If I jump out of a plane, I want something to hold onto as I plummet to my death.

Actually, Maddie, it’s 4, 500 feet, Gary, the instructor, corrected me.

I scowled at him. Thanks.

It’s for charity, Stuart repeated. What’s going to happen to all the money people have donated?

Oh God, I groaned. There are so many other things I could have done for charity – golfing, a special appearance, a novelty single, special range of scarfs, even a fashion show. Why the hell did you have to pick this?

It’s going to be okay, Maddie, Gary reassured me. He picked up a cord. Static line is the safest form of skydiving there is. It’s going to go exactly as I said. This cord is fixed to the plane and your bag. When you jump, the line pulls the main parachute out as you fall away from the plane and starts the deployment. You’ll feel a sensation of falling for a few seconds, and then you’ll feel like floating on air. Just go with it and enjoy the view. Bruce will be on the radio to talk you down.

Okay, I exhaled. But I still didn’t feel any better.

Good, because we’re ready to go.

I’m going first. Out of the way, chicken.

I was elbowed out of the way. Reeling with disbelief, I was just about to give the person a mouthful, when I saw who it was – a much shorter, silver-haired woman who had to be in her late sixties. She hurried over to the aircraft doors and gripped the sides. Gary came up close behind her.

Are you ready? he asked.

You bet, she yelled back, punching the air before she jumped out of the plane.

You must be kidding me, I said.

Well, you have to do it now, Chad said, raising his eyebrows, standing between the sound man and the camera man.

It’s okay, Gary said, guiding me – no, sorry, pushing me - towards the doors.

It’s okay, I echoed, trying to convince myself, until I threw my gaze outside – and then I was clinging onto the sides of the door.

Are you ready? Gary yelled behind me, above the noise of the plane.

No, I yelled back.

Go!

I let out a high-pitched scream of terror as I was unceremoniously pushed out of the plane. There was a rush of wind, a total loss of control, and then I found myself floating, gazing down in awe at the breath-taking view of the stretches of land below me. I felt overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, a connection to the bigger picture that was the world; and I felt that I would have been quite happy to take in such a view from a mountain, the top of a building – or by staying inside the plane I had just been thrown out of.

Maddie, are you okay? Bruce asked on the radio.

Yes, I replied weakly, trying to smile into the camera attached to my helmet.

I was once told that some reality TV stars thrive on attention because it boosts their ego and self-worth. Apparently, it’s addictive – without it you lose your sense of identity and feel empty inside. It eventually reaches a point where you’re prepared to do anything to sustain that attention, whether good or bad.

I really hoped it hadn’t come to that.

Well done, Maddie, Chad’s voice came through on the radio. Don’t worry. You’ll be down soon, and we’ll move onto the radio interview with Marcus.

I resisted the urge to reply with some choice words, not because I didn’t want to be rude, but because I would have thrown up in the process – a classic piece of television I’m sure I’d never be allowed to forget.

See, I told you she just needed a push, Chad’s voice came through again.

Chad, the radio’s still on.

Is it? Damn –

––––––––

I’ve lost count of the number of interviews I’ve done, and I must be honest, I would still rather have my teeth pulled out without the relief of anaesthetic. There are some interviewers to be avoided, and I’ve been fortunate enough to avoid this one for the past three years. But I suppose it had to happen sooner or later, especially if your publicist finds out they’re planning to write a piece on you. 

"It’s 1pm. Welcome to the lunchtime show on Radio WCB. I’m your host, Sandra Cooper, and we’ve got a packed two hours for you all today.  I’m pleased to say we’ve got two very special guests to start off with – Maddie Harker and Marcus Warren from Living with Maddie – one of my favourite reality shows. Maddie, Marcus, welcome to the show."

I fixed a huge and acutely painful smile on my face. Thank you for having us, Sandra.

No, thank you. We’ve finally managed to get you on.

Yes, I can’t believe it’s the first time, I lied.

Why has it taken so long?

Yes, good question. I have no idea, I replied, resisting the urge to jump out of