Dead in Dublin (The Dublin Driver Mysteries)
Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Publisher: Kensington (December 31, 2019)
Mass Market Paperback: 304 pages

Synopsis

In Dublin’s fair city, where the girls are so pretty, murder occurs at the feet of sweet Molly Malone . . .

Ferrying tourists around Dublin for the Leprechaun Limo Service makes quite a change after years in the military. Still, Megan Malone is enjoying her life in Ireland. She likes the scenery, the easy pace, the quirky, quick-witted locals. Everything—except having one of her clients drop dead at the statue of fabled fishmonger, Molly Malone.

Most restaurant critics notch up their share of enemies. Elizabeth Darr, however, was a well-loved international star. She and her husband, Simon, had just had dinner when Elizabeth collapsed, and spoiled seafood is the first suspect. The restaurant’s owner, worried her business is doomed, begs Megan to look into it. Between her irate boss and a handsome Garda who’s both amused and annoyed by her persistence, Megan has her hands full even before she’s cajoled into taking care of two adorable Jack Russell puppies (which she is almost definitely not keeping). But if cockles and mussels aren’t to blame, can Megan find the real culprit . . .before another fishy death occurs?

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Guest Post

Today, Megan from the series joins us and shares some insights into her life and whatnot!  Quite an amusing tale.

Hi, I’m Megan Malone and I Do Not Blog, or tweet, or…whatever Facebook posting is called…so you’ll have to let me know if I’m doing this wrong. Or better yet, you can let me know I’m doing it right!

Anyway, Megan Malone, an American living in Ireland. I moved here thanks to my dual citizenship after retiring from military service in the States, and I’ve been driving for Leprechaun Limos—a car-hire service—for a couple of years now. I swear I didn’t used to drive myself into trouble and back out again. Not, technically, that I’ve driven myself into trouble—it’s not like I’m running people over with the car—but you get what I mean. I hope.

At any rate, there haven’t been any murders lately, so I’m currently skating by on the good graces of my boss, Orla Keegan, she of the wicked tongue and yet also somehow she of the gilded charm—you should see how she plays up the Irish when it’s tourists she’s talking to. (It’s pronounced “OR-la”.) She thinks I’m a danger to myself and, more importantly, to the business’s good name, although I haven’t noticed any drop-off in the early morning clientele. That’s usually my window to work in: I like sunrises and long walks on the bea—wait, this isn’t that kind of blog, is it…

No murders lately has been easier on my friend(?) Detective Bourke, too. (It’s pronounced “Burk”.) I’d have never met Paul if poor Elizabeth Darr hadn’t died, so in a way I wish I hadn’t met him, but that said, I’m glad I know him, even if I make his life difficult. I tell you, employers and police detectives start getting really weird if you happen upon a body or two in the course of business.

Fortunately, I’ve got some steadfast friends who have my back when perfectly normal things like finding bodies start happening. Niamh, who is vastly more fabulous than I am, knows everybody and everything in Dublin, and is the best source of gossip around. (It’s pronounced “Neev”.) Fionnuala feeds me when I’m desperate, and even when I’m not. Of course, the puppies are her fault, but…well, I won’t hold that against her. (It’s pronounced “FinnOOla”.) And my friend Brian, who I swear takes care of the puppies at least as much as I do…well, he takes care of the puppies at least as much as I do. (It’s pronounced “BRY-an”. ;))

I tell you, though, the thing I was looking forward to most about my Irish life was the chance to live in another country, to go around seeing things I’d never see without the clients who need a driver, and hanging out with my friends. Basically the stereotypical Quiet Life. And of course, that worked for a couple of years, but I don’t know how somebody looking for the Quiet Life ended up involved in a murder investigation.

On the other hand, it’s certainly made phone calls back to the States more fun. For some value of the word ‘fun’, anyway. My mom worries about me even though I’m forty years old, and if this keeps up, my best friend Rafe and his wife Sarah are going to start preparing popcorn for when I call to say hi and tell them about my crazy life.

And of course, if it was just once, that would be one thing. It’s the ongoing investigations that are getting me looked at askance, but you’re going to have to wait to hear those details…!

In the meantime, welcome to the life and times of the Dublin Driver mysteries. Long may they live!

About the Author

Catie Murphy, who has written numerous award-winning fantasy and Sci-fi books under the pseudonym C. E. Murphy, began writing around age six, when she submitted three poems to a school publication. The teacher producing the magazine selected (inevitably) the one she thought was by far the worst, but also told her—a six-year-old kid—to keep writing, which she has. She has also held the usual grab-bag of jobs often seen in an authorial biography, including public library volunteer (at ages 9 and 10; it’s clear she was doomed to a career involving books), archival assistant, cannery worker, and web designer. Writing books is better. She was born and raised in Alaska, and now lives with her family in her ancestral homeland of Ireland.

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