Murder Abroad: Lottie Lindberg Historical Cozy Mystery Series, #5

By Jacqueline Garlick

A trip to grand Paris. A tour of the Eiffel tower. The discovery of  a body, with Lottie's fingerprints all over it.
Looks like Lottie's found herself in the hottest water yet.

Lottie and company set sail for London, England...but not before deciding to divert to Paris for a small holiday. Inspector Sterling Stone has been been given a top secret assignment in the world's most romantic location so why not tag along. Perhaps the two will be able to steal a few memorable moments alone together before Lottie must return home to England to deal with her overbearing former mother-in-law.

Lottie can't wait to stroll arm and arm with Sterling down the streets of Paris in springtime, do some simple sightseeing, enjoy a chance to relax in a rooftop cafe. But it looks like a dagger's been thrown into Lottie's plans when she wakes the first night, in her first-class hotel suite, to find a gleaming knife has been placed under her pillow. Then, staring up at the Eiffel tower that day...a body falls at her feet.

Oh pooh, wouldn't you know it. MURDER.

Murder Abroad, is Book 5 in The Lottie Lindberg Mystery Series, a clean, lighthearted historical cozy mystery, with no graphic sex, gratuitous violence or strong language on the page. The series is a globe-trotting, British detective mystery, featuring amateur woman sleuth, Lottie Lindberg, her dear friend Esme Loring, and her white West Highland Terrier dog companion, Little Dickens.

Recommended for lovers of amateur sleuth novels, full of intriguing twists and turns, vivid characters, despisable villains, a plucky, clever, charming protagonist, with a side of romance thrown in.

This series should be read in order...for best reading enjoyment, clarity and fun!

The Lottie Lindberg Historical Cozy Mystery Series Reading Order:

Murder Afloat ~ Book #1
Murder Aboard ~ Book # 2
Murder Afoot ~ Book # 3
Murder Aloft ~ Book # 4
Murder Abroad ~ Book # 5
Murder Askew ~ Book # 6 ~ Coming Soon

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacqueline Garlick
• Release date: May 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224444397

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

S ay it isn't so, I pout, standing on the docks of the New York harbor, gazing longingly up into Sterling’s mesmerizingly sea blue eyes. You don’t have to leave already, do you?

I’m afraid I have no choice, darling, Sterling says, his voice smooth but gloomy, interrupted by the long, loud, bull-sounding horn of the ship he’s about to board behind us.

You know how it is, duty calls, he adds when it finishes.

"Yes, duty." I sigh and frown again, staring down at my feet and twisting my gloved hands. I’m beginning to really hate that turn of phrase. I sniff, and gentleman that he is, Sterling hands me a handkerchief. I dab my eyes with it. It’s just that… we’ve only just arrived, I doth protest. Esme and I, that is. Sterling, of course, was called ahead—unplanned—on business before Mr. Baldwin could arrange transportation for all of us. Good ol’ Mr. Baldwin. And we’ve had such little time together, I plead, batting my eyelashes, as if somehow my yearning for him will magically lengthen his stay. Or remove the need for him to escort the famously rare, giant, and priceless Hagenaeur Sapphire—as we’ve come to know it now—previously stolen from a private museum collection in London and now being returned, safely back across the sea to its rightful owner and original home, in some secret location outside of Paris.

Such is the plight of all wives married to men in service. He lays a tender hand at the side of my cheek, and I bounce back from him in shock.

Wives? Married?

I blink up at him, astonished.

What did he just say?

It’s bad enough I’ve allowed myself to partake in indulgences of public affection with him out in the open air like this, so soon in our courtship—I grow nervous and glance around—let alone talk of marriage so soon. I draw in a ruffled breath. Sterling! I scold him and raise a brow.

What? His forehead crumples. What I’ve said is true.

"Of married couples," I stress, reaching for my newly-purchased hat and straightening it—a gift from the Baldwins for all we’d done for them.

Sterling chuckles and tosses back his lovely head. Fair enough, he says with a smile. His gaze darts over me in the most precocious and adoring way, and I think of Manning and our young love, cut so short by tragedy, and twist inside with guilt.

What we could have shared, could have meant to one another, if only Manning had lived.

It’s too late to ponder all that now, the lost moments, the lost love, for the fact is he didn’t live. And I’ve been left to navigate the world all on my own, alone. Which was never Manning’s intention for me. He made that clear on his deathbed. Therefore, I have allowed myself the simple pleasure of Inspector Sterling Stone’s company and have begun entertaining the thought of a future between us. Working hard to make room for him in my heart, though so much of it is still taken up by my love for Manning.

Too much, too soon? Sterling’s brows clash, reading the expression on my pained face.

Perhaps, yes. I nod, raising a hand to cover what I believe to be plum-colored cheeks.

I’m sorry, Sterling says. I should know better than— The ship’s horn sounds again behind us, drowning the rest of what he has to say, but I think I’ve caught the gist. I truly hope that one day, when it’s appropriate, you will allow me the indulgence of calling you my wife! he shouts over the dissipating noise of the horn, his voice becoming the loudest thing on the dock, echoing off over the water.

Was that? A proposal?

I blush. People stare. Sterling shuffles on the spot.

Has he just proposed to me, on the stinking docks of New York harbor?

I stare up at him, mouth agog.

What a ghastly place to do that.

I’m sorry, that came out rather loud, he apologizes to the crowd. Don’t answer that! He points at me then waves out his hand as if to erase what he’s said, flinging it about in the air nervously. That was altogether improper… and far too soon. His cheeks turn preciously pink. Not to mention awkward and tactless… and completely and utterly unromantic… he mumbles. Though in truth… He looks up again after studying the toes of his shoes. It is an accurate reflection of my future intentions, just so you’re aware. He clasps the breast of his suit jacket as though holding still his heart.

I see. I blink up at him through sheepishly shy lowered eyelids.

I would be remiss to say that I’m not flattered to hear him say that. If not in fact pleased. Dare I say, aroused, even. I grin. Oh heavens! Why have I said that? Even if it is only the thought that’s suddenly flown into my head? It is highly and unbecomingly inappropriate!

I must not, not think of Sterling in that way. It is far, far too soon.

I glance nervously around us again, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Though, truth be known, of late, I’ve been thinking of him in that way more and more often—the potentiality of our future union, that is. Nothing else. My cheeks burn.

Which I’ve decided I would highly consider at the appropriate time, in the appropriate manner—should he see fit to ask me. Again.

Just not here. Not yet. Not now.

But it is good to know that Sterling cares for me in that way. As I am afraid I have fallen head over heels for this man—in a very short time, which worries me deeply. I chew at my bottom lip. Is it possible that it could be real and lasting?

Truth be told, I have not wanted to be with a man in the way I find myself wanting Sterling lately. All right, there you go, I’ve admitted it! Long nights alone in bed I dream of how we might be together. I grow heated just thinking of it, a flutter running through me. I haven’t felt like this since … well … since Manning took me on the night before our wedding.

I feel my entire body flush now.

Yes, you heard that right.

The night before our wedding.

For shame. Manning took me out of wedlock. And I let him. Rascal that he was and me the tiniest bit of a trollop. But I had a ring on my finger, our commitment was solid, and we were due at the church in just hours, so what of it?

It was upon this very threshold, he said I needed to be clear. He wanted me to be sure about every department, every aspect of our lives together, as he felt it would become a big part of our future together. He wanted no surprises. He did not want a miserable wife— one who wanted to leave him—but rather one who wanted him. He had to know that he’d be enough, and that I was sure. That he could satisfy me as his wife.

We were young, and in love, and not royalty, what can I say? And teeming over with honest, endless desire for one another.

Manning claimed he felt it was important to give me the chance to back out. A woman should be given the choice. So many women of our day were just forced into the act as part of their marital duties, and he had no desire for that. He wanted ours to be a love that lasted. So should I not be fully satisfied by his Manning-hood, I could make the claim and be free to go.

I still giggle at the thought, remembering the term he coined and the forwardness of it all.

Imagine a young man of that time and era even caring what a woman thought.

Young Manning, as it turned out, was a passionate, considerate, kind, gentle, and thoughtful lover who, and I quote … intended to make it his life-long mission to study the map of my womanhood and be its faithful and thorough cartographer.

He made that pledge to me on that night. I still get tingles remembering the words.

Ah, that he had lived the life we could have shared. I look dreamily out to sea and tug at my collar.

Poor Sterling. He has a lot to live up to.

I look back at him. Your intentions are noted, revered, and tucked away for future consideration. How’s that? I ask, reaching up to straighten his tie.

I’ll take it, Sterling leans over, kissing me in a way that tells me he intends to rival Manning’s prior commitment to me, and I can’t help it. I grow rosy with shame.

I pull away from this kiss, feeling enraptured, breathless. It’s definitely time to stop this! I stand, staring up at him, elated, gleeful, my heart a full and pounding drum … for the first time in … well, for the first time since Manning died.

I see his face then, in Sterling’s, smiling down at me on our wedding day. We were married just after dawn the next morning. No one ever knew. Just the two of us. It was our delicious little secret. Had I become pregnant on that night, I’d still have part of him with me.

I sniff and lower my head.

I must write to Manning, without delay.

I must tell him of Sterling, and how I feel.

I have a lot to explain to him. A lot to share.

I fear it’s time.

Past due time, perhaps.

How long before I’ll see you again? I rasp, looking up, my heart a shredded husk at the thought of us being separated yet again. I run a slow hand down the side of his stubbled cheek, the back of my silk glove catching on his skin, and let it linger a beat longer than I should on his chest when it comes to rest there.

I’m afraid there’s the rub, Sterling answers, reaching up and encapsulating my fingers in his own.

What? No… My heart sinks. What is it now?

Sterling’s mouth quivers, and I can tell by the way lines form around his eyes that I am not going to like this. Whatever the news. It appears I have been given yet another assignment while abroad.

What? You mean more than just returning the jewel? I wince.

I’m afraid so, his voice becomes tussled. Before returning to home base in London, it seems my services are required in Paris.

In Paris?

Yes. Where I’ve been asked, or rather my sergeant has been asked, that I be on loan to the French National Police to help solve a puzzling case that has eluded their men for a couple of months now.

Really? I deflate, withdrawing my hands from his.

Really, he answers, looking solemn. It appears they’ve heard about the recent victories and…

They couldn’t resist. They had to have you, I say, somewhat sarcastically, swinging my head side to side.

In a manner of speaking, yes. I guess. Sterling glows with humility.

"Meaning the cases we’ve solved. The ones we solved together?" I arch a frustrated brow and touch my chest. I suppose I shouldn’t expect to be acknowledged as half of the crime-solving duo, but I can’t help myself. I do.

Yes. That’s correct. Sterling nods. At least he acknowledges the fact that I have been as much an intricate part of those so-called ‘recent victories’ as he has. Listen… He bends his head and tucks in closer to me. With any luck, it won’t take long to solve, and I’ll be back on English soil before you know it.

So I won’t see you again until then?

He smiles at me weakly.

What’s the case? I ask croakily, changing the subject to avoid the tears pressing at the backs of my lids. Another separation. For who knows how long? I’m not sure I can bear it.

Will we never be alone? Or given the time to let this relationship grow?

You know, I can’t say. Sterling tilts his head.

Of course you can’t. I scowl at him deeply. Not this again.

How many times, how many cases, is it going to take for this man to see that I am an intricate part of his puzzle-solving operation?

It’s not that I wouldn’t like to share the details with you, but you know the rules.

Of course. I smile. The rules. Those things we’ve regularly broken.

I can tell you this much. Sterling collects me gently up in his arms now, swinging me softly side to side. I will be abroad in Paris for at least a month, give or take a week. And then there’s the travel time back to British shores⁠—

Which could take another… I quickly calculate the time in my head. Another week or two, possibly. So, you’re telling me we are to be separated…

For at least the month, maybe two, he says.

I blink up at him, crushed under the weight of that thought.

I’m afraid it is so, darling. He senses my displeasure, scoops me up by the back, and presses me tight to his chest. His voice sultry, smooth, thin. Then brings my fingers up to his mouth, kisses them, and I fear I might not live—my heart is so shattered, beating erratically, heavy with missing him, and we haven’t even separated yet.

It will pass quickly, I promise. My thoughts will always be on you.

We’ve had so little time together, and now it could be two months or more before I’m likely to see him again. Two months in which I will have to return to England on my own, alone, where I will have to face down my former husband’s less-than-loving mother. Not to mention, deal with his estate, which is currently in shambles and awaiting reconstruction. And then there’s the matter of the money.

Oh, the money.

Which my former husband’s less-than-loving mother has already vehemently stated she is prepared to contest the distribution of, in my loving deceased husband’s official will, if I can’t come around to her way of thinking.

Gosh, I hate money.

It is truly the end of so many things.

Tears crest my lids.

Oh, come now. Sterling glances down, holding me tighter. It won’t be so bad. We’ve lived through worse. His eyes sparkle as I tug myself away from him, my hands clad to his arms. He raises my fingers to his lips, tenderly touching my pout, then kisses it away.

Evidently he has not met my former mother-in-law.

To say that she hates me is an understatement.

Tell me, you will wait for me?

Of course, I say, working up a smile. It’s just… well. I look down, twisting my fingers. We were so nicely getting to know each other just now.

I know. Sterling looks at me pensively then, his brows knitted. You shan’t forget me now?

Heavens, no. I frown.

Sterling’s expression grows sadly serious. What is it? I ask, concerned by the new and worried look in his eyes.

I’ve seen that look before. Something is cooking in that beautiful noggin of his. Somewhere under all that gorgeous thick blond, wavy hair, a plan is fast materializing.

I have an idea.

I knew it!

Yes?

His eyes shine. He says nothing, just calls for a porter, glancing back over his shoulder.

What are you doing? What are you up to? I glance around us as he requests the porter fetch him a message boy. A runner.

Solving our problem, he beams, reaching into his breast coat pocket and pulling out a pad of paper and pencil.

But how? I enquire as he scribbles something down and rips the page off.

You’ll see. He smiles.

Sterling? I press.

What do you say to a little holiday in Paris? he asks, his smile infectious.

What?

It just so happens that the man here in New York, during our brief stay, to whom I’ve been assigned to protect the jewel. You know who I mean.

Yes. I remember, though we’ve not formerly met.

"Well, he has indicated to me that he is so grateful for my assisting him in the jewel’s safe return, that if there is anything I want or need—anything at all—I’m simply to ask for it."

Mmm, hmmm… I stare at him, dip-browed, dragging out the sound, not believing it.

So upon asking for it, it shall be mine. He has assured me that he will go out of his way to make whatever is necessary for me, happen. Sterling leans over, kissing me firmly on the forehead. So, with that said, what do you say to joining me in Paris for the month?

What?

You heard me. You and your trusty travel mate, of course. He glances off in her general direction. Wouldn’t want to be leaving sweet Esme out of all the fun. Sterling raises his chin, grinning.

"What exactly are you proposing here, Sterling?" I cock a brow.

We get married in Paris?

I’m confused.

How am I to stow away with him for a month or more on assignment, in Paris of all places, and not be gossiped about in polite society? That’s all I need getting back to my cantankerous, less-than-approving-former-mother-in-law.

I raise a hand to my chest and choke on the thought.

Why, nothing but a little vacation. Sterling looks down at me, flummoxed. What I’m asking is, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to Paris on my work assignment, prior to returning back to England? he clarifies. That way, we’ll be able to spend my off-time together, and you and Esme will be able to tour the sights while I’m busy with work.

And then we can all travel back home to England together, I blurt.

Right.

Would I? I thread my hands together and bring them to rest under my chin like a schoolgirl enamoured by a schoolboy. "That is, if you think you can arrange it? For me and Esme, of course. While keeping both our reputations honorable." I nod, my heart bouncing like a deer through snow in the woods.

Of course. Sterling nods. And all expenses paid, of course.

All … expenses?

Well, that’s good. Because I’ve no idea how we’d be paying for it, otherwise.

Why does it feel like there’s something still unexplained floating about in that lovely little head of his?

Though, through a stroke of luck, Esme and I did arrive back in New York to find we’d been gifted a generous sum of money from Sterling’s new charge, as reward for saving his precious sapphire from being stolen by hoodlums and sinking to the bottom of the ocean with Titanic—which was a very badly needed and welcomed surprise. So perhaps Sterling was given reward money too.

But to spend it on us … I drag out the thought. My gracious, things between us are getting serious.

I thought we’d have to sell several cartfuls of