Here’s a short story, a prequel to my new cozy crime series, beginning with Death in the Dordogne. It’s published on August 10th and you can read iit here.

This tells how DI Archie Darling met Juno, the Dalmatian you’ll read about in every book in the series.

Juno.

DI Archie Darling stared at his laptop. He stretched the taut muscles in his arms, put his feet up on the desk and ran a hand through his fair hair. It was warm inside the office, the honey-thick September sunshine streaming through the glazed window.

He looked at what he’d just typed and read it back.

Blunt Truth. Preventative Education & School Programs: Police work with partners to deliver educational workshops to inform young people about the dangers and consequences of carrying knives.

A mug of coffee appeared on his desk as if by magic, and he glanced up into the smiling brown eyes of DC Shona Omotola.

‘How are you getting on with our presentation?’

‘Grand,’ Archie said. ‘I think we can make a real difference with this in schools.’

His eyes moved briefly to the framed photograph on his desk. Kat, smiling and beautiful, Amelia in her arms. His wife and his little girl, without a care in the world.

The picture had been taken less than a year ago. Before the accident.

Shona must have noticed the expression change on his face. She tried a joke. ‘Hey – have you heard?’ She put on a mock Irish accent, mimicking Archie’s soft County Mayo voice. ‘Someone broke into the police station and stole all the toilets. Police say they’ve nothing to go on.’

Archie waved a hand and laughed once. ‘Ah, g’wan with you, Shona.’

His eyes flickered back to the photo, and he felt a familiar constricting in his throat, then he pushed the emotion away and made himself look back at the screen. This was how he coped now. By working all hours. By helping local kids with problems.

Nowadays, his free time was spent alone, running and working out in the gym.

Exercise. Routine. It kept him sane.

But he needed company. And he knew exactly what sort of company would save his life.

As if in answer to his thoughts, his mobile rang and he recognised the number. He leaned forward, filled with expectation. ‘Hi. This is Archie Darling. Do you have something?’

‘We do –.’ A young female voice filled his ear. It was Tilly from the British Dalmatian Welfare. He’d been in touch with them for a while. ‘We’ve rescued a dog, Bella, and she’s had five healthy pups. One of them has your name on her. They were born in June.’

‘When can I come over?’

‘Can you pick her up at the weekend? I’ll email you the location. It’s in Warwickshire.’

‘I’ll be there on Sunday. It’ll take me a couple of hours to drive up.’ Archie said. He was smiling. ‘So – is around eleven good?’

‘It’s perfect. See you then.’ Tilly sounded delighted. ‘By the way, we’ve called her Juno.’

He drove to Warwickshire, Rory Gallagher’s blues guitar blaring in the car. Irish music kept him sane these days. He hadn’t lived in Aghamore since he was sixteen. His father had brought him and his brother Shane to Bristol after his mother had left them.

That was another story. It had been twenty three years ago. A lot of water had passed beneath the bridge since then.

University. Girlfriends. Craic. Shenanigans.

Then came the Marines – Afghanistan – and the police force. His marriage to Kat. Amelia’s birth. Holding his new baby.

Archie recalled the tears in his eyes, the new whirlwind of love and gratitude and joy, like nothing he’d known before.

All that had gone now.

He arrived at the address of the woman who was fostering the dogs. He followed her into a back room, where a tiny puppy was lifted from a wire cage and placed in the cup of his hands. 

She was three months old, with eyes like onyx, a button nose, the softest ears. He held her against his face and smelled the warmth of her skin beneath her fur.

He said, ‘Hello, Juno.’ Her tongue appeared like a tiny pink sock and she licked his cheek.

Archie set her down on the carpet and stroked her furrowed brow with a careful finger. She didn’t move, her eyes inquisitive, watching what he would do next. He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and offered her one end. She snaffled it in her jaws and pulled hard, making a low growling noise as if it belonged to her and she’d never let it go.

Archie played tug o’ war for a while, enjoying the way she focused all her being on possessing a piece of cloth. She and he were so alike.

He loved her already for her determination and her energy.

Archie knew how much work it would take to train her. He’d need to be patient and disciplined. He’d need to spend countless hours on stimulation and socialisation and exercise.

He withdrew the hanky gently. ‘Juno.’ He said her name softly like a prayer and curved his palm lightly over her spine. She was watching him, alert. He touched her paws, ruffled the velvet ears and she rolled onto her side, gnawing his fingertip with sharp little teeth.

Reaching into his pocket, he found a handful of dried puppy treats he’d placed there before he’d left. He took one and held it out, watching as Juno gnawed and gobbled it greedily. She looked tiny, but she was sturdy and strong. She’d grow quickly – she’d have long legs and she’d be quick and bright.

They’d go jogging together.

Archie knew he’d be a match for her. He’d be the patience to her stubbornness. They’d be perfect companions. They were both intelligent, warm hearted, mischievous, full of energy.

Amelia would have loved her.

No, Archie couldn’t think that way. From now on it would be Archie and Juno. A copper and his dog. His house wouldn’t be silent and cold anymore. He’d have a companion; they’d run together. They’d eat and play together. They’d travel. He’d buy a camper van and they’d go on holiday.

He was due some time off. Yes – next year, they’d go to France.  

He scooped her into his arms and held her close. ‘Right, Juno.,’ he said. ‘It’s me and you from now on. Let’s go home.’