Lift and Let Die
Lady Beatrice should be finalising her wedding vows — not investigating murder.
With just weeks to go before she marries Richard Fitzwilliam, Bea is helping put the finishing touches to Three Lakes, a rehabilitation centre for veterans, when a senior staff member dies in a late-night lift malfunction.
At first, it looks like a tragic accident. Until the toxicology results suggest otherwise.
With the centre’s opening looming and scandal threatening to overshadow both Three Lakes and her wedding, Bea can’t help getting involved. While Rich helps with the official investigation, Bea and the others have a few theories of their own. And while Perry obsesses over lift mechanics and Simon insists he’s staying out of it (he isn’t), Daisy uncovers a clue everyone else missed.
As they dig deeper, they discover buried secrets, old resentments, and a grievance someone may have carried for years.
Some loyalties last a lifetime. So do some grudges.
A warm, cozy mystery with loyal friends, buried secrets, a determined little dog, and exactly the sort of trouble Bea should be avoiding before her wedding.
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About Helen Golden
Hello. I’m Helen Golden. I write British contemporary cozy whodunnits with a hint of humour. I live in small village in Lincolnshire in the UK with my husband, my step-daughter, her two cats, our two dogs, sometimes my step-son, and our tortoise.
I used to work in senior management, but after my recent job came to a natural end I had the opportunity to follow my dreams and start writing. It’s very early in my life as an author, but so far I’m loving it.
It’s crazy busy at our house, so when I’m writing I retreat to our caravan (an impulsive lockdown purchase) which is mostly parked on our drive. When I really need total peace and quiet, I take it to a lovely site about 15 minutes away and hide there until my family runs out of food or clean clothes.
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EXTRACT: Intro
Following the shocking discovery of a body in the lift at Three Lakes, a new rehabilitation centre for military veterans due to open soon, Bea’s fiancé, Rich, has arrived to liaise with the local police. Everything points to a tragic accident, and with her wedding just weeks away, Bea has more than enough on her plate without another mystery to solve. But as Rich discusses the next steps with Bea’s brother, Fred and the centre’s CEO, Matt, Bea takes her best friend, Perry, aside for a quiet word…
Extract
Rich was making his way towards them now. He crossed the foyer, his stride unhurried. His expression had the composed neutrality he wore when he was working.
Fred looked at him expectantly.
“Superintendent Blake at PaIRS has asked me to liaise with the local force,” he told him. “Given that it appears to be an accident and the sensitivities involved, he’d prefer we keep things contained. Discreet. I’ll work with the detectives to wrap things up quickly.”
Matt nodded. “That’s good news. And it should avoid unnecessary speculation.”
Fred folded his arms. “And if the press ask questions?”
Rich’s voice remained measured. “Gareth suffered what appears to have been a medical emergency.”
As Fred asked another question about timings for the post-mortem, Bea softly touched Perry’s sleeve.
He looked at her immediately.
She nodded towards the far side of the foyer. They drifted away while the others continued talking.
“It’s bad timing,” she said in hushed tones. “But at least it seems clear-cut. A heart attack. Tragic but straightforward.”
The words should have reassured her but somehow, they didn’t.
Memories from the last couple of days drifted uninvited through her thoughts. The tiny tensions between the staff. Gareth contradicting Nora. The subtle shift in atmosphere whenever he appeared.
Stop it! Not every death was suspicious. Not every unpleasant conversation concealed murderous intent. Sometimes people simply died.
She looked across at Perry, who hadn’t answered her yet. He was studying the grain of the side table with the intensity of a man who’d suddenly developed a passionate interest in woodwork.
She knew that expression all too well. She narrowed her eyes. “Well?”
He hesitated. “What?”
She folded her arms. “Perry…”
He ran a hand through his hair, which succeeded only in making the defiant front section stand up more emphatically. “I might have… overheard something.”
She leaned closer. “What something?”
He lowered his voice. “An argument. Between Gareth and Aisha. In the staff corridor. Voices raised. Not shouting exactly, but… intense.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You never told me.”
“I didn’t want to trouble you when you’re so busy. And then I forgot.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“I couldn’t hear most of it.” He frowned thoughtfully. “But he definitely said something like, ‘You promised me this wouldn’t follow us here.’”
A cold feeling was spreading through her limbs. She sensed there was more. “And?”
“They were standing awfully close.”
She looked at him, her eyes widening. “Do you think they are… I mean, were, you know, together?”
“Either were or had been.”
Even though it seemed unlikely from what she’d seen of them together, she trusted Perry’s instincts.
He paused, then said, “He wasn’t exactly popular.”
“So you think—”
“Maybe. Perhaps someone… I don’t know. Did something.”
The words hung between them. Did something. An entire universe of implication packed into two ordinary words.
Could somebody have engineered this to look like natural causes? No. Surely not…
Perry coughed. “I may also have done something you’ll disapprove of.”
Her stomach dropped. “What?”
“I took photographs.”
For a second, she simply stared at him. “You did what?”
“Just a few.”
“Perry!”
“I know.” He managed to look slightly apologetic. “I told myself not to.”
“You absolutely should not have.”
“I know. But then I thought…” His voice lowered to an almost whisper. “What if it wasn’t an accident?”
She looked at him for a long moment. Then she sighed. “Can I see them?”
He blinked. “I thought you’d never ask.”
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