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The Basic Facts of Affordable Essay Writing

Ok, I Think I Understand Affordable Essay Writing, Now Tell Me About Affordable Essay Writing!

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The Little-Known Secrets to Affordable Essay Writing

Essay is crucial for pupils who really don’t understand just how exactly to compose their particular essays. As an example, a good essay has referencing fashion and got the outline that’s necessary. It is. Plus, the will help college students gather the tools that are vital at once. It helps reduce the range of students that are drafts have to create. It consists of things and also the content and this guides students on paper projects.

Affordable Essay Writing – the Conspiracy

Writing argument informative article is an art in the sense it necessitates detailed grasp of the subject. It is determined by to what you’re writing the study. Producing a crucial analysis is a hard job.

Affordable Essay Writing Ideas

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Unbiased Report Exposes the Unanswered Questions on Essay Help

Lies You’ve Been Told About Essay Help

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Things You Should Know About Essay Help

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The Importance of Essay Help

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I’ll be on the shadow panel for the Young Writer of the Year award!

Hi, folks! Just a quick update today to let you know that I’ll be on the shadow panel for the Young Writer of the Year award – and I’m understandably super excited!

There’s not a huge amount that I can tell you about it at the moment because it’s under embargo, but what I can say is that I’ll be featuring on a panel alongside several other bloggers and that I’ll be covering the process and revealing the shortlist over on my book blog, SocialBookshelves.com.

 

Young Writer of the Year Awards

 

It’s an honour to be involved and I can’t wait to receive the shortlisted books so that I can get started. The shadow panel will pick a winner and that winner will be unveiled at the awards ceremony alongside the official recipient. All of that information will follow soon, but I’ll primarily be covering it from SocialBookshelves.com and so be sure to follow along there if you want to see what happens and when.

In the meantime, thanks as always for stopping by and be sure to follow SocialBookshelves.com on Facebook and Twitter to hear more about the Young Writer of the Year award. You can also follow me on Facebook and Twitter to follow my writing journey or click here to buy books and stuff. I’ll see you soon!

New Song: Inside Her Head

Hi, folks! Just a quick update today to let you know about a new recording that I made of a song called ‘Inside Her Head’, which I wrote a couple of months ago but which I never really did anything with. I had some time on a Saturday to have a play with it and the rest is history.

And so without further ado, feel free to check out the new tune in the player below or to head over to my Soundcloud profile for more music!

 

 

Thanks as always for stopping by, and be sure to check out my first three albums – Nocturne, Sketches and Discordia – on Spotify and iTunes.

And as always, you can follow me on Facebook and Twitter for further b and you can check out books and stuff on Amazon and Goodreads. I’ll see you soon!

the Great, the Bad and Custom Essay Writing

You get a fantastic home based business here. You are going to get monopoly market, atleast in the first stages if you begin the business now. An organization needs to remain formal.

Custom Essay Writing – the Conspiracy

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It’s in fact not confined to a topic. You are going to be motivated to compose your essay if you’ve got an interest in the topic then. To get a personalized article intended ensure that this issue is researched first.

Custom Essay Writing – Is it a Scam?

You can organize only a tiny workshop explaining the fundamentals of gardening. Writing love letters could be a very challenging undertaking for almost all people (usually double that in the event that you’re a man ). Individuals can buy and use.

It’s about to find yourself a great break from any form of processing or treatment. It doesn’t always have consequences on someone’s health either if this system is used plus so they’re consumed in a manner. At times the training is the consequence of an function that’s recorded within their own memory and repeat and by observation becomes part of their customs.

Every class you take will require that you submit a paper or some kind of project. The process for editing your work gets difficult. With the usage of these seeds, the need is lesser and a greater production is accomplished by the exact identical bit of land.

You’re able make money all through every season and to charge both these organizations. You would certainly be astounded at just how much money could be raised through this. Awful company includes a negative effect above a young child.

No matter your final decision might function, it could be valuable to bring a look for all these characteristics which you’ve targeted for the investment. Just be sure that the business that you choose is located and enrolled locally. You might have to start looking yourself in the stages and soon you’re created and so are capable of generate a contract agreement to move their goods.

1 potential issue with the classical theories is that State’s law might not be more true. There are numerous benefits of becoming capable advisors that are cultural. Prior to choosing excellent demonstration speech topics for faculty students When there have to make sure factors which need to be considered these factors need to be kept in your mind.

A survey was designed by it in which the researcher needed to look in the questions essential for the topic. Infact when you in should youn’t discover just how to write assignment and that also you will need to submit mission it can place you into a enormous issue. As soon as you are currently doing all of your homework you have to be conscious that you’ve put all critical information regarding your own research.

Custom Essay Writing – the Conspiracy

Details of certain examples ought to be contained to strengthen your thoughts. In case you write well. Take into consideration it’s possible to ensure it is clear.

Finding the Best Custom Essay Writing

On line bulletin boards could work out whether you discover the one that is perfect. By utilizing cases the use of details can be strengthened. It gives us lot of products.

It’s not easy to produce subjects. Becoming in to some software program that is different or SAS and a function isn’t the equivalent of realizing statistics. When you own an interest, as an example, let’s assume that this is a only-girls class, which means you may go with a topic like” When the topic has been chosen, write an introduction which defines why you have picked this issue, why the crowd should understand what it is that you might be just going to demonstrate, and the way you’ll be offering easy answers for the exact same.

Locate the price of gold and silver and discover out whatever price. One doesn’t need to visit with with the stockmarket to comprehend the stock quotes and prices, it can be done from the office or the place with aid from an online connection and a notebook. The only real means to discover the perfect price would be always to physically devote around the jewelry to many different shops.

Introducing Custom Essay Writing

You might have plenty of benefits on your own life if you can think seriously and observe an issue in point of views. If you’ve got another article which you would like to write then you definitely know that along with the course load, it can look like an quantity of work within an extremely brief time. Really, it becomes difficult older after an instant in addition to, to keep on making creative thoughts for an post up.

Using this method you will achieve one’s prospects’ interest and readily, and get them WANTING to speak to you. You won’t have the power to complete justice in the event you do not want to find out more about this issue accessible. You are ready to acquire fantastic marks, in the event you do that precisely then.

On Pivoting

Nobody can get everything right first time. That’s especially true for writers – after all, the whole editing process is about constant iteration until you get it right. But it applies to other areas as well, which is why it’s so important for writers to know when and how to pivot.

We need to remember to focus on the end goal and the overall mission, rather than on the individual deliverables that we create for ourselves. That’s why I’m experimenting with my approach to social media and marketing a little.

I’m not saying this is going to necessitate a huge change. It just means that I’m going to try to be less formulaic, such as by releasing weekly writing updates or by posting certain types of content on certain days. That just led me to pre-setting a bunch of content and then leaving it to post on autopilot, and that’s no fun for anyone.

 

 

So I’m going to cut back on a lot of the things that I do. For example, I’m going to spend less time filming and editing videos because it takes away time that I could be spending elsewhere. I’m also going to try to mix things up a little bit with my blog updates by posting updates like this that chart my journey instead of just posting a poem or a short story each week.

Other than that, it’s business as usual. I’m still working hard with my career as a freelancer, although I’m having to pivot in certain areas there to make sure that I’m achieving a decent work/life balance. I’ve been over-worked and over-stressed for a while, which has been good for money and for my freelance career but pretty bad for my mental health. It’s also not been so good for my productivity. So I’m pivoting there as well.

But on the other hand, I’m hoping that it will also help me to give you more of an insight into my life and the creative process. It’ll allow me to be more spontaneous and to give you a fuller idea of what’s going on behind the scenes, and it’ll also allow me to spend more time getting books ready for publication. After all, that’s what I want to be known for – not for my weekly writing updates. So I guess I should probably go and crack on with some edits!

 

Thanks as always for reading, and please do buy a book if you’d like to support me in my writing journey. You can get an e-copy for less than the price of a cup of coffee and a signed book with freebies and postage for the price of two pints of beer.

You can also follow me on Facebook and Twitter for further updates. I’ll see you soon!

The Same Flight Home

It’s time for another James Leipfold short story! In this one, he’s heading off to Amsterdam to investigate a case. Let’s get into it.

 

IT WAS TIME for a rare holiday.

Well, maybe not a holiday, but Leipfold was leaving the country for the first time in the best part of a decade and in his line of work, that was close enough.

He boarded the flight to Amsterdam at Heathrow Airport at 6:10 AM in the morning. He was tired, so tired that even coffee couldn’t save him, and the bags under his eyes were starting to look more like trashcans. He was hoping to catch some sleep on the flight – indeed, he’d booked a window seat with that specific reason – but it was an ill-conceived hope, a hope that life would never quite live up to.

The two seats to his left were taken by a couple of middle-aged women who were having a heated debate. At first, Leipfold had no idea what they were talking about, but he couldn’t help himself from overhearing – or more precisely, from listening in.

He paid little attention to the names, but the story was easy enough to follow. Somebody had stolen the younger woman’s bracelet, and it was the only thing she had left from her former lover. Leipfold had been listening for long enough to absorb the full story. He’d been taken by sickle cell in his early thirties and she’d been single and unhappy ever since. He’d only ever given her one thing – the platinum bracelet that had disappeared.

He sighed and turned around in his seat, all hope of catching some sleep long forgotten. “Excuse me,” he said, addressing the two women and interrupting their conversation. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Perhaps the two of you could use a little help.”

“I don’t think you can help us,” the older of the two replied.

“Martha, right?” Leipfold said. He turned to look at the younger woman, who was sitting beside Martha in the aisle seat. “And you must be Amy.”

“How do you know our names?” Amy asked.

Leipfold smiled. “I just listened to your conversation,” Leipfold said. “There’s no mystery there. And Martha, I’m pleased to say that I think I can help you, no matter what you say. I’m a private detective.”

“A private detective?” Amy repeated. “Then perhaps you really can help.”

“Amy,” Martha said, “I must protest. I mean, we don’t know this man from Adam. How do we know we can trust him? All we know so far is that he’s nosy.”

“I’m a private detective,” Leipfold said. “It’s my job to be nosy. That’s what I do.”

“I suppose it is,” Amy admitted. “Okay, sir. I’ll tell you my story.”

She started from the beginning and repeated a lot of the information that Leipfold had already heard about, but she also told him a little about her new husband, a man who mistreated her and liked to play games to keep her guessing.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he stole it,” she said. “He’s stolen from me before.”

“Possessions?”

Amy shook her head. “No,” she replied. “He took my money.”

“What a gentleman,” Leipfold said.

“There’s something else, as well.” She rolled up the sleeves of her shirt and showed Leipfold a couple of nasty bruises. One of them was a lurid purple and the other had faded slightly but still looked the colour of charcoal. He could tell from a glance that they were historic and dated from different incidents. He could also tell something else. The bruises were self-inflicted.

“It’s true, you know,” Martha said. “Her boyfriend is a brute. It’s awful, some of the stuff that he does to her.”

“Have you ever actually seen him hurt her?”

“That’d be difficult,” she said. “I’ve never actually seen him.”

“Well that tells a story in itself,” Leipfold murmured.

“What do you mean?” Amy asked.

“It’s easy,” Leipfold said. “Your boyfriend didn’t hit you. Your boyfriend doesn’t even exist. You made him up.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Beats me,” Leipfold said. “Perhaps to get a little sympathy? Why does anyone do anything?”

“This is preposterous,” Martha said.

“Perhaps,” Leipfold replied. “It’s nothing to me. I don’t know you from Adam – or from Eve, for that matter. All I know is the truth. You injured yourself, and you know exactly where the jewelry is.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s with the person you sold it to,” Leipfold said. “Isn’t that true?”

“Jesus,” Amy said. “You’re good. Martha saw it was missing, so I spun a tale. Here we are.”

“You lied to me?” Martha said, aghast.

“Oh, get over yourself.”

Amy scowled at Leipfold and mouthed “thank you” across at him. Leipfold shrugged and said she should seek some help to stop self-harming. It sent her into a rage, and she did the only thing that she could do in that situation. She called the flight attendant and asked if she could switch seats with another passenger.

“Ooooh,” the woman replied. She was called Lyndsay and she looked like one. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You have to stay in the seat that you were assigned. I’m afraid it’s company policy.”

“I’m sure it is,” Amy replied.

The three of them spent the rest of the flight in a stormy silence.

 

***

 

When the plane landed at Amsterdam’s Schiphol airport, Leipfold didn’t need to hang around to wait for his case to be ejected from the conveyor belt. He travelled light and carried everything he needed in a rucksack on his back.

It was a big airport, but it wasn’t hard for Leipfold to find his way around the place and he was soon on a shuttle train into the city. He found a seat and opened up his notebook to review his notes on the case so far.

Leipfold was in the city of sin to track down a client’s ex-girlfriend. It was the kind of work that he resented but which paid well, and so he had to take it on whether he liked it or not. But at least he’d blagged an all-expenses paid trip to Amsterdam, his first holiday in a decade or so and it still technically counted as work.

And it wasn’t like he had much to go on. All he knew was that she was a junkie and a stripper in a city of junkies and strippers. He had his work cut out for him.

He started by wandering the city, ambling through the side streets and up and down by the canals. For a city that was known for its drug culture, it was a surprisingly clean place. People flew past him on pushbikes and trams wound their way through the picturesque streets. He saw no sign of heavy drugs, and the smell of marijuana only floated out from the licensed coffee shops that dealt the herb to locals and tourists alike.

His hotel was in the south side of the city, and he took a detour to wander down to it and check into his room before heading to the Rjiksmuseum. He wandered idly around the exhibits, taking notes here and there on his favourites, before taking the tram into town to start work.

When dusk fell, the atmosphere in the city started to change. It was a slow, subtle shift to begin with, but by 10 PM it was a different place entirely, as Leipfold couldn’t fail to notice when he wandered through the red light district perusing the human wares in the windows. He’d been given the name of a gentleman’s club where his mark was rumoured to work.

So Leipfold went along and paid for the peep show. It wasn’t his kind of thing, but he couldn’t deny that the women were beautiful, empowered creatures who nevertheless looked like dope fiends and crack addicts. The woman he was looking for didn’t make an appearance, but the other girls were pleasant enough. He waited for the show to finish and then headed off to speak to the leading ladies.

Most of them wouldn’t speak to him, but he found a couple of girls called Silver and Summer who took him over to a corner and agreed to talk to him, in exchange for  a little hard currency.

Leipfold paid them what they asked for and showed them a photo of the woman he was looking for. “Have you seen her?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen her,” Summer said. “Candace. She dances here sometimes. Not tonight though.”

“Why not?” Leipfold asked. “Where is she?”

“She’s at the Blue Room,” Silver told him. “It’s a brothel. It pays better than this dump but the shifts are less reliable.”

“I can imagine,” Leipfold said. “Where can I find the Blue Room?”

The girls gave him directions and Leipfold thanked them and then followed them. They took him down a couple of side streets and right down by the river, along an alleyway and up a flight of stairs into a tiny little brothel that looked like it was for locals and not for tourists. The journey to the office reminded him of the journey into his own office on Balcolmbe Street, another country away.

The Blue Lounge was drab, dingy and unashamedly functional. Leipfold was greeted by a middle-aged madam who listed off their services. He showed her the photo and asked for Candace and was told that it wouldn’t be a problem, as long as he had the money. They haggled and Leipfold paid up front for a couple of hours, then followed the madam into a back room where his mark was ready and waiting. She was scantily clad and wearing much more makeup, but it was definitely the woman from the photograph.

“What’ll it be?” she asked.

“I want you to come home with me,” Leipfold replied.

“You’re crazy.”

“Perhaps I worded that badly,” Leipfold said. “Listen, there’s somebody who loves you and wants you back. I think you know who I’m talking about.”

“I do,” she replied, reluctantly.

“He’s why I’m here,” Leipfold said. “I’m a private detective. He sent me to track you down and bring you home.”

“By force?”

Leipfold shook his head. “That’s not my style,” he replied. “Besides, if I brought you back with me, you’d just jump ship at the first opportunity. He can’t keep you locked up forever. No, you need to want to return. I mean, look at you. Look at where you are. Is this really what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Then come home,” Leipfold said. “You won’t have to do this to earn money. You’ll have everything you could possibly want.”

“I wouldn’t have my freedom.”

“You would,” Leipfold insisted. “It’s just a different kind of freedom. It has to be better than this.”

They talked for the rest of the two hours, sparring with words like two fencers until they were both too exhausted to deliver the winning blow. Leipfold thought he’d made some headway, but it was hard to tell.

“You have to go, Mr. Leipfold,” she said. “Your two hours are up. Here, take this.” She took a paper towel from the adjoining bathroom and wrote something on it with an eyeliner pencil.

“What is it?”

“It’s my address,” she told him. “Visit me in the morning once my shift is over. I’ll have a decision for you then. In the meantime, if you’ll excuse me. I have a shift to finish.”

 

***

 

Leipfold met her in the morning at the address she’d given him. By the cold light of day, she looked like a different person. It wasn’t just the outfit – she’d removed all traces of her makeup and looked younger, almost innocent. She held herself differently, too. She held herself like someone who’s been waiting for a train for two hours and doesn’t know if they can hold on any longer.

“I’ve come to a decision,” she said. “Thanks for coming to find me, Mr. Leipfold. I’m going to leave the city. But I need a couple of days to get my affairs in order. Can you give me them?”

Leipfold whistled softly and looked around the shithole apartment that she was living in. He didn’t think it’d take her two days to pack up her belongings because she clearly didn’t have any. But what was another forty eight hours?

“I’m here for three more days,” Leipfold said. “I’ll see if I can book you on the same flight home.”

Candace and Leipfold shook on it, and he walked her back to her flat and left her to get on with things. He had admin of his own to do, including calling his client with the good news. The client was ecstatic and told Leipfold as much, and he wired over the money for the flight as soon as he got off the phone. The flight itself was almost fully booked, but Leipfold was able to get a ticket for a single seat at the other end of the aircraft, which was good enough.

He spent the next couple of days enjoying his time in a strange city.

 

***

 

On the day of the flight, Leipfold went back to the address to pick Candace up. There was only one problem – she was nowhere to be found.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. He could make out the silhouette of a body on the floor on the inside of the house.

Leipfold panicked. He didn’t know the number for the emergency services, and so he flagged down a passerby to put the call in while he tried to kick the door down. It broke on the fourth boot and Leipfold spilled inside with the stranger in tow, but it was pretty clear that they were too late to help her. Her skin had turned blue, for God’s sake. And Leipfold’s eyes lit up on the needle in her arm.

“Holy shit,” Leipfold said. “We’ve got to get out of here. There’s nothing more we can do.”

He turned around, but the stranger who’d called the police had already disappeared.

Leipfold disappeared shortly afterwards. He had a plane to catch.

 

***

 

Back in Britain – back at the office on Balcolmbe Street – Leipfold was worried. He was about to make an uncomfortable phone call and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

His client picked up on the fourth ring. Leipfold cut straight to the chase to say, “She’s dead. I’m sorry.”

“She’s dead,” the client repeated. “What do you mean, ‘she’s dead’?”

“What do you think I mean?” Leipfold replied. “Listen, I did what I could. She was supposed to be coming back with me. She said she was going to. And then…well, you know what happened.”

“No,” the client said, “I don’t. How did she die?”

“She overdosed,” Leipfold said.

“And you’re sure of this?”

“I saw her,” he replied. The memory of her body lying lifeless across the floor was one that wouldn’t be leaving him any time soon, especially not late at night when he was struggling to sleep.

“God damn it,” his client said. “I’m not happy about this, Leipfold. Not by a long shot. Why didn’t you save her?”

“I couldn’t,” Leipfold snapped. “I tried and I couldn’t. And neither could you.”

“You should have got there sooner,” his client said. “No, this can’t be happening. I’m done, Mr. Leipfold. I’m done, you hear? No more money for you. And if I ever see you again, I’ll kill you – you hear? I’ll kill you.”

 

***

 

“I need a favour,” Leipfold said.

“I guessed as much,” Cholmondeley replied. The two of them were sitting opposite each other in a greasy spoon. Leipfold had chewed his way through a large cooked breakfast, but Cholmondeley had settled for toast and a pot of coffee. “You always need a favour.”

“I’m sorry, old friend. It won’t take a moment.

Cholmondeley sighed. “I can’t keep doing this, you know,” he said. “I’m too busy. Too old. Too much is at stake.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Leipold said.

“True.” He sighed again. “Okay. What is it?”

Leipfold told him.

 

***

 

Two hours later, Jack Cholmondeley was in uniform. It was his day off, but Leipfold had been insistent and besides – it still made him proud to wear it, and he knew it would until the day he died. It was a family tradition.

At Leipfold’s insistence, he knocked at the door. Cholmondeley didn’t recognise the man who answered it, but Leipfold did – and he gave Cholmondeley the nod to confirm it.

Cholmondeley grinned at the man who’d loved the prostitute – and who’d failed to pay Leipfold’s final invoice.

“I believe you owe my friend some money,” he said.

Married to the Job

Hi, folks! I’ve got a little something something for you. That’s right, it’s another of the stories from the Leipfold universe. Today, we’re heading back into Leipfold’s earlier days when he finds himself going on a blind date. Enjoy.

 

Married to the Job

LEIPFOLD WAS SORTING through his wardrobe, looking for his only good quality suit. He hadn’t tried it on for a couple of years and it was a little tight around the stomach, but it’d do for a single night. He thought about the irony. Considering it was a blind date, he was putting a lot of effort into looking good.

The whole thing had been Jack Cholmondeley’s idea, and the woman he was off to meet was a friend of Mary’s. That didn’t bode well, and Leipfold had decided that if his date was anything like Mrs Cholmondeley, he wouldn’t be staying any longer than the starter.

I didn’t even want to come in the first place, Leipfold thought, morosely.

It was true. Leipfold had initially refused to go on it. “I’m married to the job,” he’d said to Jack Cholmondeley. You of all people should know what that’s like.”

“Perhaps,” Cholmondeley replied. “But I’m married to mine and I still found time to marry Mary. What have you got to lose? Every strong man has a woman behind him.”

“Bullshit,” Leipfold replied. “Every strong woman is strong because she doesn’t need a man.”

“Please, James,” Cholmondeley said. “Mary will have my guts for garters if you don’t take us up on it. Do it for me. I’ll owe you one.”

“You’ll owe me one?” Leipfold repeated. He thought about it for a moment. “Ah, go on then,” he said. “What the hell? But I won’t forget it.”

That’s how Leipfold found himself heading along to The Ledbury, the brand new restaurant that had opened up in London’s Grosvenor House Hotel. There was a three week waiting list, but Cholmondeley knew the owner and had managed to book Leipfold in with a nod and a wink.

His date for the night was called Janine, and Leipfold immediately committed it to his almost photographic memory. He liked her straight away and was instantly smitten by her combination of class, good looks and good nature. She was a challenge, a little out of Leipfold’s league, but he liked that. She reminded him of a crossword puzzle, and he couldn’t wait to fill out her little boxes.

Janine impressed Leipfold almost immediately by taking a keen interest in his work and professing her love for puzzles right before she talked her way through the wine menu. Leipfold told her that she didn’t drink and she laughed and replied, “Neither do I.” It turned out that Janine had an extremely low tolerance for alcohol and so she liked her wine from a distance. She knew her way around a bottle because she’d taken up tasting, but she spit the stuff out before it could ever have a real effect.

And better still, Janine seemed to like him. After dinner, she asked for a second date, and Leipfold gave her his number and his business card. But he left it that and didn’t expect anything more from it. Unfortunately for Janine, Leipfold had trust issues – and they manifested themselves in a flat-out unwillingness to entertain a future in which he was no longer alone. He liked her, he just didn’t trust her. Not yet, at least.

So Leipfold decided to do what he did best. He decided to carry out a little investigation.

 

***

 

As much as Leipfold would have liked an excuse to ogle at the woman from afar, he simply didn’t have the time to get the job done. Instead, he gathered together his team of local kids and set them on the woman’s tail with explicit instructions to see that she didn’t come to any harm. It didn’t take them long to start reporting back to him, starting with where she worked – which Leipfold already knew – and followed by her home address and a description of her life.

The update was delivered by Gherkin, a kid with an unusual nickname who’d somehow ended up working is way to the top of the hierarchy on the city’s troubled streets. Leipfold always assumed that, like the Sue that Johnny Cash knew, the name had made him tougher. Truth was that nobody else wanted the title – being at the top made you a target, and Gherkin had already been stabbed with a screwdriver and threatened with a gun. It was all part of life on the streets.

Gherkin said that Janine lived a relatively normal life. He gave Leipfold a breakdown of her activities for the week, and the highlight seemed to be a trip to the local soup kitchen, where she’d volunteered. Leipfold paused him right there and looked up a number in the phone book, then put in a call to the church that ran the kitchen and asked a few questions. It didn’t take him long to confirm the intel.

“There is one problem, though,” Gherkin said. “I saw her with some geezer. Early twenties, maybe. I got an address for you, though. I can show you, if you’d like.”

“Please do,” Leipfold said, “I’ve got a window in my schedule. Besides, I might have another little job for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Leipfold said. “We’re going to go and knock on his door. Come on, you can ride on the back of the bike.”

 

***

 

“Right,” Leipfold said. “Are we clear?”

“Yeah,” Gherkin said, “I’ll knock on the door and ask the bloke how he knows your woman.”

“That’s the deal,” Leipfold said. “But don’t let on that you know me. I don’t want it coming back to me.”

“Gotcha.”

Leipfold watched apprehensively as the kid meandered his way nonchalantly down the street and then bowled his way up to the house’s front door. It was painted black with a big white number nine on the front of it, and the chap that Gherkin had seen from a distance came to the door almost immediately.

From his distant perch, Leipfold couldn’t tell what was being said – but he could tell from the man’s body language that he wasn’t happy. That much was obvious by the way he slammed his front door in Gherkin’s face. The kid wandered back over to Leipfold’s spot amongst the oak trees that lined the street’s perimeter.

“What happened?” Leipfold asked.

“He told me to piss off,” the kid replied. “But don’t worry about it. I get that a lot. I’ve also got an answer to your question.”

“You have?”

“I have,” Gherkin said. “Before he closed the door on me he told me he was that bird’s ex-boyfriend.”

Leipfold sighed.

 

***

 

After that, Leipfold thought he had all that he needed to know, so he called off the kids and gave up on Janine against his better judgement. Exes were complicated, especially when people were still seeing them, and so he figured he needed to let nature take its course. If she called him, she called him.

As nature would have it, she did call him, just over a week after their initial date at The Ledbury. She said she wanted to see him again and suggested a Vietnamese place that she knew, nestled along a little side street about a mile and a half from Leipfold’s office. He rode there on the back of his motorbike.

The second date was a disaster. Leipfold wasn’t exactly on his worst behavior, but he was brashly and unashamedly himself. He was also worried about work, and he wasn’t exactly communicative when she asked him questions about his personal life. Then she dropped the bombshell.

“So I hear you paid some kid to knock on my ex’s door,” she said. “That’s weird. Who the hell does that?”

“I do,” Leipfold said. “Apparently.”

“Why?” she demanded. “If you wanted to know, you could have just asked. Yes, I have an ex-boyfriend. Yes, sometimes I see him. We’re just friends. But that’s not the real issue here.”

“It isn’t?”

“Of course not,” Janine replied. “The real issue is that you went behind my back. What kind of precedent does that set for the rest of our relationship?”

“Right.”

“Trust is important to me, James,” she said. “But how can I trust you if you’re pulling stunts like this. Paying children to spy on me, James. Honestly.”

“I’m sorry,” Leipfold said. “I’m no good at this. I didn’t even want to meet you in the first place.”

“Charmed, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Leipfold said. “I’m just not good with people. Well, I’m good with people. I’m just not so hot on romance.”

“I thought you were doing pretty well,” Janine said. “At least, until you decided to start spying on me. Trust is important to me.”

“It’s important to me, too,” Leipfold admitted, “but I’ve never been any good at trusting people. Especially with my history.”

“Your history?”

Leipfold grimaced and tried to turn it into a smile. “I don’t like to talk about that,” he said.

The two of them parted on friendly terms, but they both knew that they’d never see each other again. It didn’t need to be spoken aloud – it floated in the air between them and felt conspicuous by its very absence.

Cholmondeley said it best when he found out about it.

“You ended it?” he exclaimed. “Jesus Christ. You really are married to the job.”

New Music Video/Song: You and Me

Hi, folks. Today, I wanted to let you know about a new song that I wrote called ‘You and Me’. I liked it pretty much as soon as I wrote it and so I knew I was going to have to record it. What I didn’t expect, though, was that I’d film the process as well.

The result is a combination of a new recording and a new music video which you can check out in the player below – or if you just want to listen to it, you can check it out on Soundcloud.

 

 

Thanks as always for checking it out and be sure to follow me on Soundcloud and YouTube for more music. You can also check out my three albums – Nocturne, Sketches and Discordia – on Spotify and iTunes.

And if you’d like to stay up-to-date on everything else, be sure to follow me on Facebook and Twitter for further updates. I’ll see you soon!

The Case of the Missing Gnome

After a couple of weeks off, I’m back to sharing some more stories from the Leipfold series. These all take place before the start of Driven, my upcoming novel, and this one is actually referenced – although despite it happening before, it was written afterwards. Confusing, right?

THE CASE OF THE MISSING GNOME

JACK CHOLMONDELEY WAS VEXED to say the least.

“Mary’s gnomes have gone missing,” he said.

Leipfold, who was sitting beside him in a booth at the local Wetherspoons, looked confused. “Her gnomes?” he parroted.

“Her gnomes,” Cholmondeley confirmed. “She has a collection of the things. Those horrible little statues of old blokes fishing in ponds or holding little bloody signposts. They’re her pride and joy, and now some scumbag has pinched one.”

“Who’d want to pinch a gnome?” Leipfold asked.

Cholmondeley shrugged and reached absentmindedly for his coffee, nudging it slightly and spilling a little without noticing. He took a sip of it and scalded his tongue.

“Shit!” he growled. He held his hand in front of his mouth and blew on it, then wiped it off surreptitiously on his trousers. “Where were we?”

“Who’d want to pinch a gnome?” Leipfold repeated.

“Ah,” Cholmondeley replied. “Who indeed? A drunk, perhaps? Some kid pissed up on cheap booze?”

“Perhaps.”

“There’s something else though,” Cholmondeley said. “Mary has dozens of the damn things, but only one of them went missing. Priscilla.”

“Like the queen of the desert?”

“Exactly,” Cholmondeley said. “Priscilla is her pride and joy. Her favourite gnome, if you can believe that. And I’m in the doghouse because she says I let it happen.”

“I think I see where this is going.”

“You’ve got to help me,” Cholmondeley said. “If I don’t find the gnome, my life won’t be worth living.”

Some men might have thought that Cholmondeley was overreacting, but Leipfold knew Mary – and he knew what she was like.

“Tough break,” Leipfold said. He thought about it for a moment. “Okay, so – theories.”

“What about them?”

“Have you got any?” Leipfold asked. Cholmondeley shook his head. Leipfold paused again. “Okay, then. How about this, then? What if it was one of your enemies? Maybe they took it to kit it out with spy cameras? Or even something more sinister? Explosives?”

“Jesus Christ,” Cholmondeley said. “You think so?”

“Not really,” Leipfold replied. “But it’s a possibility. You’ll know for sure if it reappears again. Perhaps you should get your boys to have a look at the rest of the collection in the meantime.”

“I’ll do just that,” Cholmondeley assured him. “In the meantime, I want you to put that brain of yours to some use.”

“I’m trying to run a business here,” Leipfold reminded him.

Cholmondeley shrugged. “So what?” he asked. “You love a problem.”

 

***

 

Cholmondeley asked his men to look at the gnomes, as per Leipfold’s suggestion, but they didn’t find anything.

Unfortunately for Mary Cholmondeley, they also destroyed a baker’s dozen of the things before she noticed they were missing and placed a panicked call to her husband. Jack was on duty, and not best pleased to be interrupted by more of his wife’s warbling about her precious collection. He broke the bad news over the phone and then held the receiver away from his ear as she shouted down it. He was glad that his colleagues couldn’t see him.

“Listen, Mary,” Cholmondeley said, trying to seize the initiative. “I’m at work, okay? I’ll talk to you when I get home.”

“Oh no, Jack,” she said. “Oh no, no, no. You’ve gone too far this time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My gnomes!” she howled. “You know how much I love those things.”

“I thought we might have been in danger,” Cholmondeley said, making a mental note to give Leipfold a stern reprimand. “I can’t help it if I put your safety first, darling.”

“Don’t ‘darling’ me, Jack.”

“I’m sorry,” Cholmondeley said. “But what’s done is done. At least the boys didn’t find anything.”

“I almost wish they bloody well did,” Mary growled. Amplified and distorted by a bad connection, her voice sounded hellish, almost satanic. It sent a shiver down Cholmondeley’s spine and a cold sweat to his furrowed brow. “I’m serious, Jack. I make a lot of sacrifices to support your career. I don’t ask for much from you. I just want my bloody gnomes. Is that so much to ask?”

“Of course not, dear,” Cholmondeley said. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” she said. “You make this better or else you’re in a lot of trouble. I’m going to go and spend some time at my mother’s. It’ll give you some space to figure out what’s really important to you.”

“You’re important to me, Mary,” Cholmondeley said. “You are.”

But she’d already hung up the receiver.

 

***

 

“How could you have been so wrong?” Cholmondeley asked.

Leipfold was sitting in his office, a couple of miles away from Cholmondeley’s throne in one of the Old Vic’s private meeting rooms. He was glad he was out of arm’s reach of the man. He was clearly having a tough time of it, and Leipfold didn’t want to give him an excuse to lash out at him. That wasn’t much of a problem over the telephone, though.

“I’ll admit it was a long shot,” Leipfold said. “But it’s better to be safe than sorry. Besides, I always hated those gnomes. I did you a favour.”

“A favour?”

“Yeah,” Leipfold said. “I knew your tech boys would destroy them if they took a look at them. Don’t pretend you’re not secretly glad that they’re gone.”

There was a pause on the phone line, followed by a sound that Leipfold interpreted as a muffled laugh from a man who was holding a hand over the receiver.

“You make a good point,” Cholmondeley said. “I always hated the damn things too. Made my front garden look like bloody Narnia. But that’s not going to help my marriage.”

“I can’t help you there, Jack,” Leipfold said. “It’s not my area. But I’ll keep investigating the missing gnome to see if I can find something.”

“Thanks,” Cholmondeley said. “I appreciate it.”

 

***

 

Jack tried his best to make it up to Mary. He bought her a dozen roses (“they remind me of death”), took her out to dinner at a Heston Blumenthal restaurant (“a waste of money”) and bought her a hundred new gnomes (“not the same”) that were delivered two days late by a Yodel truck. But it all seemed to make no difference. Mary was in a bad mood, and Cholmondeley was still on the receiving end of it.

A couple of days later, Mary came back from her mother’s house, and she took to skulking around the house in a black dressing gown and refusing to shave her legs. She made her husband sleep on the sofa.

“And all over a bloody gnome,” Cholmondeley said. “I don’t understand it, Mary.”

“Fuck the bloody gnome,” she said. Cholmondeley was taken aback and stunned into silence. It was the first time he’d heard his wife swear, and it ruined the illusion. It was like he’d caught her with her trousers down in the bathroom.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Sorry,” Mary said. “I got a little carried away. But damn it, Jack. You know how I feel.”

Mary paused for a moment. She looked ashamedly down into her lap, even though she knew full well she’d done nothing wrong.

“Besides,” she said, eventually. It was never about the gnomes. It was about us, Jack.”

“Us?”

“You never let me be myself,” she said. “I’m just poor old Mary Cholmondeley, the homely wife of the keen cop. I always knew you hated those gnomes. So did I, they were bloody atrocious. But get this, Jack. You can get rid of the gnomes all you like, I don’t mind.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she said. “And instead, I’m going to start collecting bloody plastic flamingos.”

 

***

 

Cholmondeley hated the flamingoes even more than he’d hated the gnomes, and that did a lot to fix the rift between them. Within a couple of weeks, Mary had two dozen flamingos out front and a further dozen out in the back garden. She’d even pinned up a flamingo air freshener in his panda car.

Leipfold had been unable to find anything in the case of the missing gnome, and he’d formally resigned from the case after Cholmondeley told about the flamingoes. And by the time that Mary bought her fiftieth flamingo, he’d almost forgotten all about it.

Then he met the kid.

He was a wiry kid, the acne-faced youth from number twenty six who was known as a pleasant child who was nevertheless a menace because of what he got up to on his mountain bike. Cholmondeley couldn’t remember his name – David, Dean or Derek perhaps, although he could’ve been a Mike, a Luke or an Oliver.

David-Dean-Derek-Mike-Luke-Oliver approached him with a bike between his legs while Cholmondeley was mounting Big Beaky, his wife’s latest addition to the family. Big Beaky was like all of the other flamingoes, except he was eleven foot tall and weighed the same as a piece of flatpack furniture.

“Hi,” said David-Dean-Derek-Mike-Luke-Oliver.

“Hey,” Cholmondeley replied. “David, isn’t it?”

“No,” David-Dean-Derek-Mike-Luke-Oliver said. “It’s Jacob.”

“Jacob!” Cholmondeley said. “Ah yes, I knew it. How can I help you, Dean-Derek?”

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry, sir,” Jacob said. “I feel terrible.”

“You do? Terrible about what?”

“I stole your gnome, sir,” the kid said. “A couple of weeks ago. I’m sorry, I was drunk and it was a dare and well…”

Cholmondeley started laughing, which was clearly not what the kid had expected. He flinched and leapt backwards like a cat that’s attacked, which only made Cholmondeley laugh even more. By the end of it, he was struggling to breath and emitting loud whistles that sounded more like a kettle boiling than a human laughing.

“What is it?” the kid asked.

“You stole the gnome?” Cholmondeley said. “That’s bloody priceless. You almost ruined my marriage.”

“I’m sorry,” the kid repeated. “I still have it if you want it. I could bring it back.”

“Why the bloody hell would I want you to do that?” Cholmondeley asked. “Good riddance, as far as I’m concerned.”

“What happened to the rest of them?” the boy asked.

“They’ve gone, kid,” Cholmondeley said. “All thanks to you.”

“Jeez,” he replied. “I’m sorry, mister. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.” Cholmondeley smiled at him, a smile that was the smile of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “You see those flamingoes?”

“Yeah, I see the flamingoes,” the kid said.

“Good,” Cholmondeley replied. “Do me a favour, kid.  I want you to make them disappear.”