A summer shadow, p.1
A Summer Shadow, page 1
A Summer Shadow
A Chief Inspector Shadow Mystery
H L Marsay
A Summer Shadow
Copyright© 2026 H L Marsay
EPUB Edition
The Tule Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
First Publication by Tule Publishing 2026
Cover design by Patrick Knowles
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AI was not used to create any part of this book and no part of this book may be used for generative training.
ISBN: 978-1-970840-85-8
Keep Up with your Favorite Authors and their New Releases
For the latest news from Tule Publishing authors, sign up for our newsletter here or check out our website at TulePublishing.com
Stay social! For new release updates, behind-the-scenes sneak peeks, and reader giveaways:
Like us on
Follow us on
Follow us on
See you online!
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
A Summer Shadow Crossword
Chief Inspector Shadow Mystery series
More books by H L Marsay
About the Author
Acknowledgments
This book, indeed, this whole series would not have been possible without the help and support of the magnificent team at Tule Publishing.
Huge thanks to Jane Porter, Cyndi Parent, Meghan Farrell, Kelly Hunter, Julie Sturgeon, Mia Gleeson, Jaiden Colling, Sinclair Sawhney, Nan Reinhardt and Marlene Roberts.
A big thank-you also to Lee Hyat and Patrick Knowles for coordinating and designing another perfect cover.
Chapter One
Across 8 (7 letters)
Chris and Ross take Will’s place at the wicket
It was a glorious Sunday afternoon in August. The two cricket teams, dressed in their whites had just jogged out of the pavilion to a round of polite applause. Swallows were flying high overhead, and in the distance, the River Ouse sparkled in the sun as it slowly flowed along. Chief Inspector John Shadow finished the last of his tea and placed the cup and saucer down on the grass by his half-finished Yorkshire Post crossword. His stomach was comfortably full from the plate of sandwiches and scones Maggie had brought over to him when play had stopped for lunch. One of her many nephews was wicket keeper for the home team, and she’d been roped in to help with the teas.
However, Maggie wasn’t the only reason he’d strolled the mile and a half or so along the river from Florence, his narrow boat, to the village of Bishop’s Drift that morning. Ben and Ollie, two of the forensic scientists he worked with were playing for the visiting team. Neither of them usually filled him with confidence so he’d been rather surprised to find that both had notched up an impressive number of runs during the first innings. It looked likely their team would win. The home team were chasing a score of one hundred and thirty, but as the second innings was just starting, he reckoned he had time for a quick nap before things got interesting. Leaning back in his deck chair, he lowered his Panama hat and closed his eyes. However, just as he felt himself dropping off to the soothing sound of leather on willow, a shadow fell across his face.
“Chief, are you awake?” whispered an all-too-familiar voice.
He didn’t bother opening his eyes. “For the last time, Sergeant. If the ball bounces before it goes over the boundary, it’s a four. If it doesn’t, it’s a six. Now leave me in peace.”
It was Sergeant Jimmy Chang, who had persuaded him to come and support their colleagues. He would never have agreed to it, if he’d known he would have to spend the best part of the morning explaining the rules of the game to his deputy.
“Sorry, Chief, but the thing is, there’s a body.”
Shadow opened his eyes. “Where?”
“Here or actually there. Over in that little hut thing with the scoreboard on it. It’s the old guy who was keeping score inside.”
“Natural causes?” asked Shadow hoping for a stroke or a heart attack.
Jimmy shook his head. “No. Somebody whacked him over the head, then stuck one of those little wooden poles through his stomach.”
“For crying out loud,” grumbled Shadow as he clambered gracelessly out of the deck chair, “I’ve told you a hundred times, they are called stumps and with the bails they make the wicket.”
The two detectives walked behind the rows of spectators seated either on picnic blankets or deck chairs. Everyone was focused on the match and a cheer went up as another ball was hit for six. They didn’t seem to have noticed that the scoreboard remained unchanged since play restarted.
“Have we got any details?” asked Shadow.
Jimmy immediately whipped out his electronic notebook and began reading. “The victim is Martin Croft, a retired civil servant, age seventy, and he’s not married and has lived here in Bishop’s Drift for about twenty years.”
“Who found him?”
“Julia Hinchcliff. She’s the mother of the captain of the home team. She’d gone to take Martin another cup of tea. When she saw him, she came running back to the pavilion kitchen and told me what had happened. She’s the one who gave me the background info too.”
“What were you doing in the kitchen?”
“Helping out with the washing up. They were a bit shorthanded, so Julia came over to us and asked Sophie if she’d like to lend a hand serving the boys when they came in for lunch. Well, you can guess how well that went down, so I volunteered instead. Julia was a bit surprised. Said they’d never had a chap in the kitchen before. I’m not sure she trusted me around the food, so she set me on with the washing up instead. I don’t think she meant anything, she’s just a bit traditional. Sophie said old-fashioned.”
Shadow grunted. Sophie was Jimmy’s wife and also one of the doctors they worked with. She was helpful, efficient, and hardworking, but she wouldn’t have taken kindly to being asked to abandon watching the cricket so she could help make sandwiches for the boys.
“Where’s Sophie now?” he asked.
“With the body and I’ve put a call out. The crime scene team are on their way.”
By now, they had reached the scorer’s hut. It was a small, white wooden building with a small opening to the front so that whoever was inside could watch the match and above that was an electronic scoreboard. Shadow followed Jimmy round to the back of the hut, where there was a door. He took a deep breath to brace himself. Despite being in the police for well over thirty years, the sight of blood always made his stomach churn.
They stepped through the open door and into the tiny dark room. After the bright sunshine outside, it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. Unlike her husband, who was still wearing a hoodie with his jeans despite the heat, Sophie was dressed in cut-off denim shorts and a T-shirt. She was kneeling down next to the body. The victim was still on his chair slumped forward. His arms and head were on the table in front of him, resting on the score sheet where he must have been entering the results manually. To his right, were the controls for the digital scoreboard. He looked to be of average build with neatly trimmed grey hair. His glasses where still on his face but one of the arms had snapped and they were now askew. He was dressed smartly in a shirt and tie with cream-coloured chinos although an ugly red stain had spread across the light cotton fabric. There was also a dark pool of blood on the wooden floorboards, and if Shadow looked beneath the table, he could see one end of the white wooden stump resting at an odd angle on the victim’s knee. He didn’t want to think about where the other end was. Sophie looked up when she heard them enter.
“Hi Chief. No rest for the wicked, eh?” she said cheerfully.
“So, it would seem. What can you tell us, Sophie?” replied Shadow.
“Not much. I haven’t got all my equipment with me, but he must have died no more than an hour ago. Not that you need any medical knowledge to work that out. Apparently, someone brought him some sandwiches and tea just as the first innings finished. That was at twelve o’clock. There was an hour for lunch. It looks like he had time to eat and drink,” she gestured towards the empty cup and plate on the table next to the scoreboard controls. “Then Julia came down with more tea just after play started again. So, time of death I’m estimating at between quarter past twelve and one o’clock.”
Shadow nodded taking in the broken cup and saucer in the doorway that Julia must have dropped when she arrived. There was also a smashed plate and a forlorn looking cream scone lying next to it. Behind the door was a pile of cricket gear—pads, wickets, a tin of white paint, and some folded-up tarpaulin.
“Jimmy said he was hit over the head with the wicket before they stabbed him with it,” he said turning his attention back to the victim.
Sophie frowned. “He was definitely struck on the head, but I’m n ot sure what with yet, but looking at the bruising here just above his right ear, my guess is it wasn’t a heavy enough blow to kill him. Also, there are some abrasions around his lips. I’m wondering if whoever killed him might have snuck up behind and pressed their hand over his mouth to stop him calling out,” she said using the end of her pen to point out the areas of reddened skin.
“Could it have been an opportunist?” asked Jimmy. “A druggie looking for some cash. They thought an old man on his own would be an easy target, but he fought back. Do you reckon they keep any money in here? Like team subs or something?”
Sophie shook her head. “I wouldn’t have thought so,” she replied. “There’s a club room up at the pavilion that looked pretty flash—lots of wood panelling and leather armchairs, that sort of thing. I bet that’s where they’d keep any cash. Besides, whoever killed him didn’t bother to take his wallet,” she added, directing her pen to the square-shaped outline in the dead man’s trouser pocket. “Should I?”
Shadow nodded and watched as she carefully removed the wallet, with a whispered “Excuse me, Martin,” before she handed it to Shadow.
He very much hoped that if he dropped dead at work, Sophie would be the doctor on call. He opened the brown leather wallet. Inside were a debit card, a Waitrose loyalty card, a driving licence, and a hundred pounds in cash.
“So, we can definitely rule out robbery then,” said Jimmy with a sigh.
Shadow handed him the driving licence. “Read his address, will you. Even with my glasses on, I won’t be able to make it out in this light.”
Jimmy squinted at the small plastic card. “Bank House, Bishop’s Drift,” he read out. “I know it. It’s on the main street, across the road from the pub. Do you remember we looked at that cottage along there a few months ago, Soph?”
“Yep, it was lovely but needed too much work for us,” replied his wife who had now moved to the other side of the victim. “It looks like his keys are in this pocket.”
“Good, that should save us some time,” replied Shadow, holding out his hand as Sophie carefully fished the key ring out of Martin’s trouser pocket. “Are you sure he isn’t married?”
“According to Julia,” replied Jimmy.
“And she definitely seems the type who knows everything that goes on in the village,” added Sophie.
From outside, they could hear the whine of sirens approaching. Shadow turned to Jimmy. “You’d better go and tell everyone that the match is cancelled and then find our forensics team and get them over here preferably with a protective suit over their cricket whites.”
As Jimmy disappeared out of the door, Shadow took a moment to look around the rest of the hut. As well as the cricket paraphernalia, there was an old filing cabinet standing against one wall. There was a thin layer of dust on top and the drawers were neatly labelled with dates. He guessed they held the scores of all the matches Bishop’s Drift had played but the most recent date was sixteen years ago. He carefully tried to open the top drawer but it was locked and looking at the bunch of keys in his hand, none appeared to be the sort that would fit. No doubt Ben and Ollie would examine it when they arrived. He decided he should probably leave before he disturbed anything in the tiny space.
“I’ll be up at the clubhouse if you need me, Sophie,” he said, but only got a murmured “Okay, Chief,” in response. She had returned to her work and was now engrossed in studying the victim’s face by the light of her phone’s torch.
He stepped back outside, blinking at the sunlight and took a couple of deep breaths of fresh air. The sirens were getting louder, and he could see an ambulance, two marked cars, and a police van arriving in the car park. It was a large space that began a few yards behind the hut and stretched down to the river. However, due to the match being so well attended, it was busy and there were no available spaces, so the ambulance had bumped up on to the grass verge and was now trundling towards him beeping its horn for good measure. It came to a halt and a couple of paramedics jumped out.
He had no wish to get under their feet, so he made his way around to the front of the hut. The opening that Martin had been watching the match through was small, perhaps ten or twelve inches high and only two or three feet wide. That coupled with the fact that the interior was so dark, it was almost impossible to see what was going on inside, especially from a distance. Although from the noise they were making, it was clear the paramedics were now inside, he could only see some movement, not their faces. Unless he was lucky enough to find someone had been sitting with a pair of binoculars trained on the hut, he doubted there would be many witnesses, at least not from where the match had been taking place.
Turning away from the hut, it was clear to see that news of what had happened had spread. The spectators were all folding their deckchairs and picking up their picnic blankets. A crowd had gathered on the pavilion steps and were pointing towards the uniformed police officers who had now arrived on the scene. Jimmy was in the middle of the pitch trying to placate the players who all seemed rather upset that the match had been stopped. All that was except for one young man who was now jogging towards Shadow. He recognised him from the opening coin toss as the captain of the home team and guessed he was around twenty years old. He was tall and good-looking with an easy smile. As he approached Shadow, he removed his cap and held out his hand.
“Good afternoon, sir. I’m Rory Hinchcliff, the captain of Bishop’s Drift. I understand from your sergeant that you want us to stop playing.”
“That’s right, Mr Hinchcliff,” replied Shadow briefly shaking the outstretched hand.
“But is that absolutely necessary?”
“I’m afraid so. As I’m sure Sergeant Chang informed you, there has been an unexplained death.”
Rory ran his hand through his dark hair and arranged his features into what he must have thought was a suitably concerned expression. “Yes, I see, I mean it’s terrible about Martin. Poor old guy. It won’t be the same round here without him, but you see this is the final of the Archer’s Cup. It’s one of the biggest tournaments for the local teams. Bishop’s Drift have won it the last two years, and I was really hoping to make it a hat trick. Our opening pair are already on thirty-seven without loss. I’m at number three and I’m pretty certain I could knock up half a century at least. Are you positive we can’t play on? I think it’s what Martin would have wanted and I’m sure I could find someone else to keep score.”
Shadow surveyed him for a few seconds. He got the impression Rory Hinchcliff was used to getting his own way. Today he was going to be disappointed.
“I don’t think that would be appropriate, Mr Hinchcliff,” he replied. “The match will have to be postponed.”
Rory’s shoulders fell. “I see. I suppose you’re right but it’s a shame. I’d better go and let the lads know it’s definitely off.”
He turned away but Shadow hadn’t finished with him. “Before you go, could you tell me where you were during the break for lunch, Mr Hinchcliff?”
Rory stopped and frowned. “Up in the pavilion with everyone else. Oh, except when I nipped back to my car. I’d forgotten my pads.”
“Is your car in the car park?”
His face broke into a smile. “Yes. The captain has his own space. That’s it over there. The black Golf GTI.”
“So, you would have had to pass by the scorer’s hut,” continued Shadow, not bothering to look where Rory was pointing.
“Well, yes, but bloody hell, you don’t think I killed him, do you?”
“Did you go inside the hut?”
“No. Why would I? You can see the score from outside.”
“What time did you come down here?” Shadow went on, feeling slightly guilty about how much he was enjoying the young man’s panic.
“As soon as their last wicket fell. It was just before twelve.”
“And did you see anyone else here at the hut?”
“There were a few people milling about. Getting stuff from their cars, like me. Oh, and I saw Samantha, Samantha Archer. She was leaving the hut. She must have taken Martin something to eat. I heard her say something like, Julia will be along with a cup of tea and cake soon, Martin, then she waved at me, told me I’d played well and headed back to the pavilion. Samantha will vouch for me,” he explained clearly relieved.
