Who’s ready to start a new crime fiction series? Well, let us recommend you start here with the first book from the Dr Cathy Moreland Mysteries, Death by Appointment. Set in the village of Kinnaven in north-east of Scotland, Dr Moreland hopes her move there will bring her much needed peace. Instead, she’s drawn into investigating the murder of the local GP. . .

Extract taken from Death by Appointment
By Mairi Chong
Published by Bloodhound Books

The letters had begun the week before. The elderly GP initially thought they were either a mistake or a practical joke. The first two had been particularly cryptic. By the third, though, old Dr Cosgrove  knew their meaning. She could almost predict what the following one might say. They spelt out a date that she remembered only too well. Vicious and cruel to bring it up again. And why now? With what purpose?

They had arrived by post. All had come in the same style of small white envelope with the address scrawled in blue ink. It looked like an elderly person’s writing, but Dr Cosgrove believed this was an amateurish attempt to disguise the actual hand. She hadn’t noticed the postmark on the first, but the last two had had an Aberdeen stamp. That hardly narrowed things down, though. Kinnaven was north of Aberdeen and the city was where most of its inhabitants did their ‘big shop’. She felt sure the culprit must be a Kinnaven resident.

She wondered if she should talk to someone. What would she say, though? The letters were hardly threatening and, to anyone else, they would be meaningless. Still, she wished she had someone in whom she could confide. She thought of Ruth, her practice partner, but almost immediately ruled this idea out. She had enough on her plate with the new salaried GP and thoughts of her, Dr Cosgrove’s, impending retirement. There was, of course, the minister. She shook her head. No, she couldn’t abide the idea. If only her father had been alive, or her mother, for that matter. It was a long time since she had been to the graveyard in Aberdeen to lay flowers.

Dr Cosgrove looked at her computer screen and saw that the next patient was in. At least at work, she felt safe. The letters had only been delivered to her home address. This, she thought, had been quite deliberate. It made them more personal. Dr Cosgrove sighed. The perpetrator might tire of the silly little game soon enough. She had suffered far worse when she first arrived in the village. The residents were a tough crowd to please. Stuck in their ways and wary of a strange face. Now, she was accepted. Yes, of course. If another letter came, she would toss it in the bin and think no more about it.

Dr Cosgrove removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose, indented by their weight.

She had been the lead clinician for what seemed like a lifetime. Both her parents had been general practitioners, and the idea of any other specialty seemed highly unlikely for her. As a student, she had fleetingly toyed with the notion of a career in ophthalmology but was quickly dissuaded. Her father had been instrumental in negotiating, and financially securing, the practice. Unfortunately for the newly established young Dr Cosgrove, her father’s interest was not purely financial and for the first few years, he was an ever-officious presence. But things had changed since those early days. Dr Cosgrove’s practice was no longer single-handed, and she had grown in confidence and skill. She had taken on a full-time partner eleven years before as the area population had grown. It had been an excellent decision. Ruth was quiet and capable.

Dr Cosgrove called out the name, one she did not recognise. The practice was relatively quiet by this time with Ruth now attending to any house visit requests that had come in earlier. The elderly doctor squinted in the pool of sunlight that filtered from the skylight in the roof of the reception area. A pretty-looking woman who had been sitting on one of the low benches in the waiting room got up and approached her.

‘Dr Cosgrove?’ she asked, and extended a hand.

Dr Cosgrove was momentarily taken off guard. She didn’t respond and left the woman standing with her hand outstretched. She stared for a moment or two, hardly able to comprehend. Her mouth was dry and her heart rate suddenly elevated. The sunlight from the waiting room was dazzling. The doctor involuntarily stepped back, her eyes flitting across the other woman’s features. No. How could it be? What with the letters too, it seemed almost impossible. The memories came flooding back with such intensity that she was rendered breathless. Closing her mouth, Dr Cosgrove swallowed twice, her throat occluded completely. How, after all of these years?

The other woman had dropped her hand and was looking at her in concern. ‘Dr Cosgrove? Are you all right?’

The doctor, whose eyes had been tightly shut, shook her head. She forced a smile. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She swallowed again and tried to compose herself. ‘Yes. So sorry. I felt a little light-headed for a moment. I was miles away, I’m afraid.’ She exhaled heavily. ‘Miles away. You reminded me of someone I once knew. It was a long time ago. Long forgotten. You’re a new patient though and not from these parts? I haven’t seen you before? No, of course not. Excuse my rudeness, please come in. Sit down and tell me what I can do for you today.’

Death by Appointment by Mairi Chong is published by Bloodhound Books, priced £13.99.