Fancy a bit of #cozy crime? Then check out Haircuts, Hens and Homicide by @llamamum #romcom #crime @rararesources

Dear reader,

Hi, Megan here, the narrator of ‘Haircuts, Hens and Homicide’. I’ve been invited chat about myself, so here goes.

First of all, who am I and what’s made me me? Well, I’m nobody special really, but I do like to think I’m a loyal friend, and I always try to do the right thing. It may not work out in practice, but the intention is there.

I was brought up by my prickly grandmother after my teenage mum went to India to ‘find herself’ when I was three, but whether Mum went or not nobody knows, because she disappeared without a trace. Gran never gave up hope, and wrote letters to her every week. I found those in the attic last month and they broke my heart. ☹

Gran died recently so I’ve come over to France to sort out her affairs and decide what to do with myself: whether to stay in France or go back to England where I have no job, no boyfriend (he dumped me two months before our wedding, the worm) and no home (my flat, along with the others in the block, is being turned into a bingo hall). Such choices!

Dealing with my difficult grandmother, who is… was the sort of person who could start an argument in an empty room has led me to be a tactful, conflict-avoiding sort of person, but I could always see beneath the skin. Hidden below the thick veneer of cantankerousness that coated Gran was a warm, loving person. And so I don’t immediately pigeon-hole the people I meet, no matter how weird, annoying or irritating they might first appear to be. Usually there’s more than meets the eye. I hope people appreciate that quality in me and find me a sympathetic person to be with.

me chicken

I love the colour peach, which I think speaks ‘sympathetic’. I don’t know, it just sorts of suits me as you can easily tell from my wardrobe. I also love chickens. That’s a recent development, because inheriting Gran’s house meant I also inherited her four chickens and one duck, and her shy adopted cat Catastrophe (name speaks for itself!). Oh, and some other wandering chickens came my way too. They chose to appear on the day of Gran’s funeral, as did Romain, the arrogant gendarme. That’s French for cop, btw. He was very snooty and wouldn’t let me explain that I had a burial to be at until Gran’s hearse rolled up the drive. He went as red as a beetroot but in true French style didn’t apologise.

I’ve become used to the French not apologising now. Even though they may do something that, in hindsight, wasn’t the best course of action, the word ‘sorry’ will not pass their lips—actually, it would be ‘désolé’ but you know what I mean.

Romain was therefore my main dislike, but the more I’ve got to know him, the more I’ve begun to like him.

My biggest wish at present is to set up my own hairdressing salon. That’s my profession, and I love it. I’m not half bad either. I’ve been steadily relooking – making over – the local women in return for baked goods mainly. Until my business is up and running properly, I can’t accept money. That’s frustrating but at least I don’t go hungry. There’s certainly demand for a hairdresser here, especially a mobile one who can call on elderly clients. In this part of Creuse the average age is about sixty, or so it seems. A lot of old folk are housebound. So, I know I could earn my living. But, my plans are all up in the air, as you could probably imagine. 

Now, what would I change about myself if I had a magic wand? Easy. My nose. It’s a rather an enthusiastic one, much bigger than it really needs to be. But, that said, I’ve got used to it and I would certainly never have surgery on it. Too expensive, and I might miss it. Which is why a magic wand would be perfect. If I didn’t like my new look, I could restore the old one with a quick wave. And anyway, Romain’s nose is even bigger than mine.

Finally, and before I bore you to tears, will you be seeing more of me? Oh yes. I can categorically state that will be more adventures to share with you, my first one being HAIRCUTS, HENS AND HOMICIDE so please do come and see me there! I’m sure that they’ll be starring a particular type of bird, an element of hairdressing and some appropriately alliterative skulduggery! 

I’m already starting to investigate the suspicious death of a pigeon fancier…  

Anyhoo, that’s all for now,

Megan

Haircuts, Hens and Homicide

Megan finds mayhem when she arrives in France to bury her Gran and sort out her affairs. She expected difficult encounters with civil servants and red tape but not with wandering chickens, an imperious policeman and a dead body.

Together with her unlikely new friend, the elderly and grumpy Alphonse and his canine equivalent, Monsieur Moustache, Megan becomes involved in investigating the fowl-related foul play that’s at work in this sleepy part of rural France. 

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She’s helped but mainly hindered by the people she comes across. These include the local mayor, who wants Megan to stay and set up a hair salon in his village to help keep it alive. There are the cousins Romain, the gendarme, and Nico, the clumsy but hunky farmer. They have always clashed, but do so constantly now that Megan is on the scene. Michelle, Romain’s terrifying ex who wants him back, appears along the way, as does Claudette, a wheelchair-bound old lady, and Kayla, Megan’s best friend, who is hugely pregnant but not above taking on the forces of French law and order when Megan finds herself the prime suspect after Alphonse is stabbed.

There’s excitement, humour and lots of ruffled feathers in this rom-com slash cosy mystery, the first in a projected series.

About Stephanie Dagg, in her own words...

'I'm an English expat living in France, having moved here with my family in 2006 after fourteen years as an expat in Ireland. I now consider myself a European rather than 'belonging' to any particular country. The last ten years have been interesting, to put it mildly. Taking on seventy-five acres with three lakes, two hovels and one cathedral-sized barn, not to mention an ever increasing menagerie, makes for exciting times. The current array of animals includes alpacas, llamas, huarizos (alpaca-llama crossbreds, unintended in our case and all of them thanks to one very determined alpaca male), sheep, goats, pigs, ducks, geese, chickens and turkeys, not forgetting our pets of dogs, cats, zebra finches, budgies , canaries, lovebirds and Chinese quail. Before we came to France all we had was a dog and two chickens, so it's been a steep learning curve. I recount these experiences in my book Heads Above Water: Staying Afloat in France and the sequel to that, Total Immersion: Ten Years in France. I also blog regularly at www.bloginfrance.com.

I'm married to Chris and we have three bilingual TCKs (third culture kids) who are resilient and resourceful and generally wonderful.    

I'm a traditionally-published author of many children's books, and am now self-publishing too. I have worked part-time as a freelance editor for thirty years after starting out as a desk editor for Hodder & Stoughton. Find me at www.editing.zone. The rest of the time I'm running carp fishing lakes with Chris and inevitably cleaning up some or other animal's poop.'

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