Two big Cathy Marsden pieces for you. The first is that the second book with her, The Faces Of The Dead, will be out next April. Here’s a taste of the opening:

Leeds, late March, 1944

‘This had better be very important,’ she said as she slid into the passenger seat of the Humber.

            George Andrews started the car, put it into gear and  set off down Brander Road.

            ‘Boss’s orders. He wants us all in the office as soon as possible.’

            Cathy glanced over her shoulder, seeing Tom standing alone on the pavement.

            Even perfect weeks had to end.

*

A sunny March Monday that held the promise of an early spring, and she was stuck in the office with the rest of the squad, reading over reports that needed to be filed. The door with Special Investigation Branch painted on the glass stood open, but by afternoon the air was warm, thick and sultry. All she wanted was to be outside, doing something beyond the routine of paperwork. The telephone bell jangled and Smithy handed her the receiver.

            ‘For you,’ he said. ‘Some bloke.’

            ‘This is Sergeant Marsden.’

            A rough, crackling connection, booming with background noise. Suddenly she heard a voice she’d often dreamed about during the last three years. The words flooded out; he’d just landed in England, he had two weeks’ leave and he’d be back in Leeds tomorrow. Before she could reply, the line died.

            Her head was suddenly whirling in twelve directions at once, heartbeat galloping in her chest. Less than twenty-four hours and Tom would be here. It didn’t seem possible. Not after all this time.

            She took slow, shallow breaths, trying to calm herself.

‘We don’t have anything big right now, do we?’ Cathy was a bag of nerves as she stood by Faulkner’s desk. He was the boss; he made the decisions. But he’d seemed distracted lately. If there was any problem at home, he’d never discuss it in the office; he kept work and personal life separate.

‘You already know that,’ he answered, narrowing his eyes. ‘Why?’

‘That was Tom. He’s just stepped off the boat and he has a fortnight up here.’

He shook his head. ‘I can’t give you that long.’

‘A week,’ she said. ‘Come on, you know I have more leave than that due. We all do.’ She gazed at him hopefully. ‘I’ll come back if anything happens.’

            Faulkner chuckled. ‘Go on, then. I must be getting soft. A week. Make the most of it. But,’ he added, ‘be sure you’re available in case something comes up.’

First thing Tuesday morning she was at the salon on the parade, begging Edna to squeeze her in and tidy up the pageboy cut.

            At home, her clothes were strewn across the bed as she tried on one after the other, wanting the perfect outfit to welcome him back. She was desperate to see him, but scared, too. Questions kept spinning through her brain: after so long apart, could they fit together again? Those censored letters they’d exchanged were all very well, but so much had happened to them both that they could never start to explain on a page.

            By four o’clock she was ready. She chose a burgundy cotton frock with white piping that she’d bought shortly before clothes rationing began. Five minutes with the iron to take out the wrinkles, top it with a thin cardigan, a few touches from her tiny stock of rationed make-up and that was it. She felt the anticipation surging through her body. She was excited. Hopeful. Overwhelmed. Terrified. Everything jumbled together as she tried to drink a cup of tea.

            The knock came at six just as the sound of Big Ben announced the news on the wireless. Butterflies fluttered around her stomach as she turned the doorknob.

It’s a twisted tale and you can see why: Cathy Marsden’s happiness at her boyfriend Tom’s brief leave from the army and marriage proposal is short-lived as she embarks on a new case in the Special Investigation Branch.

Eric Carr, a local gangster, is dead after crashing his car on the outskirts of Leeds. Not only that, but an alarming discovery is made in the boot: weapons, including guns, stolen from a US military base, to be sold on the black market.

Was the crash simply an accident, or something more sinister? One thing’s for sure – Eric’s death has set a chain of murder and gangland chaos in motion. As the number of people disappearing increases, and men start dying, Cathy must work out who is pulling the strings, and why.

You can pre-order the book right here. But before you do, why not read No Precious Truth, the first book in there series. The Kindle version is currently just £4.99 ($9.99 in the US). Almost as cheap as a coffee…go here and click buy. I promise you won’t regret it.

Oh, before I forget, here’s the cover from The Faces Of The Dead. Now, don’t you want to read it?