To Love and to Perish
Felicity Philips Investigates
Book 1
Steve Higgs
Text Copyright © 2021 Steven J Higgs
Publisher: Steve Higgs
The right of Steve Higgs to be identified as author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved.
The book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
‘To Love and to Perish’ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Rolf Lawson for suggesting the title. Thank you, Rolf.
Table of Contents
Complicated Business
Pushed
A Challenge
The Boutique
The Cat and the Dog
Thief in a Searchlight
Vince to the Rescue
Chocolate Biscuits
Dinner Interruption
Arrested
Sisterly Love
Good News and Bad
Mating
Bribing the Cat
Deploying a Spy
Too Distracted
Diagnosis
Missing Cat
Total Badass
In the Rear-View
B & E
Alternative Lifestyles
Desperately Outnumbered
Come and Get Us!
Add Theft to the List
Ninja Assistant
All Figured Out
List of Crimes
News that Changes Everything
Caught
Theory in Pieces
The Truth
Champagne
Author’s Notes
What’s next for Felicity Philips?
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Complicated Business
I asked, ‘What was that?’ The sound of something breaking upstairs had just stopped our discussion. We were midway through the bride making it clear her bouquet had to be pink gerberas. She’d gone so far as to specify the exact shade of pink, providing a swatch to make sure I would get it right.
Tamara Bleakwith was not unusual in my experience. Most brides have desires that might seem trivial to anyone else but are of paramount importance to them on their big day. She was really very pretty and the pictures I had seen of her fiancé showed a tall, handsome man – they were going to be a photogenic couple. She was petite, like me, with perfectly straight sandy blonde hair that fell almost to her tiny waist.
The bride and her mother were both on their feet, looking up at the ceiling. They both had deep frowns on their faces.
After what sounded like a vase hitting the oak floorboards above us, silence followed. Not for long though. It was interrupted by the sound of loud voices which echoed through the house as two men began arguing. I knew who the men were. One was the bride’s father, Derek Bleakwith, and the other was John Ramsey, Derek’s business partner.
‘Please excuse us for a moment,’ begged the bride’s mother, Joanne Bleakwith. She looked embarrassed by the outburst I could hear and rushed from the room, her daughter following close behind.
Left alone in their house, I took a moment to go back over my notes so far. I travel with a tablet these days, having abandoned my notebooks no more than a couple of years ago. I found the leather and paper smell of the notebook comforting in a way, but the tablet was more practical, and it allowed me to send notes directly from it as a message or an email and that saved time.
The bride (and of course her mother who was doing a lot of steering) was to be married at Coolbridge Castle, in Lenham in twelve weeks’ time. The venue is a popular location for weddings and thus one with which I am familiar. My familiarity helped, but this was still a rush job - twelve weeks is about the fastest I have ever organised a wedding. The haste was not due to the bride being pregnant as you might have imagined, but because her father was gravely ill.
My name is Felicity Philips, and I am a wedding planner. Actually, I like to think of myself as THE wedding planner and even use that line in some of my advertising. I have a rival who would argue the point, but by and large, I am the first port of call for those with money or fame.
At fifty-five I find myself a widow. It is not what I expected from life but tell myself one can only play the hand one is dealt. I am short and petite and have raven black hair from Italian heritage. I managed to luck out on the children front but have my niece as an assistant. She is nineteen, nimble, and has watched The Karate Kid far too many times.
I share my life and house with a Ragdoll cat called Amber and an English bulldog named Buster. They hate each other with passion. So much so, in fact, that I dare not leave them alone in the house together which is why Buster is currently snoring by my feet.
The cat and the dog … no I’ll start that again. I was going to say there is something unique about them, but in truth I think the oddity is me. I can hear their thoughts and understand them when they bark or meow. I had the ability from birth, I think. It caused me problems as a child because I didn't know I wasn’t supposed to tell people about it. It’s not all animals I can hear, just those I share my life with. At least, that is what I have come to believe. I got Buster and Amber
