Hey.

This is a new medium for me. You can usually find my ramblings on Instagram or Twitter. Sometimes on Facebook.

I’m a professional musician, but I’m also a so-called amateur sleuth. Have Strat, will travel, as Tom, my sister’s husband, famously quipped a few years ago when I was first starting out.

Sleuth, because I seem to be quite good at solving mysteries. Not murders—I leave that to the police. I hunt for missing people. Missing items. Who’s trying to kill me. The usual sort of thing.

Amateur, because I’m not licensed. I’ve passed the prescribed course. I just haven’t taken the exam. A license is recommended in the UK, but not required. I’ve been encouraged to get one by friends, relations and colleagues. I’ve promised to do it, but I’ve been reminded that I also promised to stop smoking, and nothing ever came of that.

That’s not quite true anymore, actually.

I’m just wrapping up a 50th anniversary tour of England with my mum’s band, Figgis Green. I took a leave of absence from my regular gig at the Blue Devil jazz club in Soho to do the tour, and now I’m getting ready for our soundcheck at the old Hammersmith Odeon—aka the Hammersmith Apollo. If you’re a Beatles fan you’ll know this is where they filmed the lads descending the iron staircase at the back for the beginning of “Can’t Buy Me Love” in A Hard Day’s Night in 1964. Four years before I was born.

The Hammersmith Odeon’s where we’re performing tonight, the last night of our tour.

After the soundcheck we’ll have our catered pre-gig meal. We have a fantastic duo, Mary and Janice from On the Road, who prep our food and make sure our dressing rooms are well-stocked with bottled water—sparkling and still—and big jars of M&M’s (brown ones included—we don’t ask for bizarre things on our riders. Well, Roly does, but only because he lives in California.).

Our caterers are fabulous ladies. We’ve only had one bump in the road with them. . .and it wasn’t even their fault. My mum and I share an allergy to mussels, which Mary and Janice, of course, knew about. But somebody had it in for us when we played Cambridge and spiked the lobster bisque. It turns out I may have been the target, not mum. But I missed that dinner, and dodged a metaphorical bullet.

That was the thing that finally drove it home to me that the series of mishaps that had been plaguing are tour were far more than inconveniences. That was when I finally had to turn to my sleuthing abilities to try and track down why someone had such a huge grudge against us–and me in particular.

And that was when things started to get very dangerous. . .until they came to an extremely frightening conclusion at Oakden Manor, near Tunbridge Wells.

Last night we had our bang-up final-night meal, in a proper restaurant. Tonight, after our last encore, we’ll do our usual meet and greet with fans in the foyer. And then mum, Mitch, Roly, Beth, Bob and I will join Freddie, Tejo, Neil, Mary, Janice and Colin, our manager, plus a few special guests, for a late-night farewell in the very same place. We’ve got a private room booked in the back and they’re staying open late just for us. We’ll definitely make it worth their while.

To be honest, final farewells never really are that, are they. We’ll all stay in touch. It won’t be difficult for me as I’m always chatting with mum anyway. And Mitch, who plays bass guitar, is my uncle—mum’s brother. And Roly, with his drums, is my dad’s second cousin. I’ve become good friends with Beth and Bob, the band’s two newcomers. And I’ve grown very fond of the crew.

I’m due onstage in a few minutes for our soundcheck. Last one, after 34 days, 18 stops, 17 hotel rooms and one private estate where, as I’ve already said, some more very bad things happened to me. But you’ll have to read that story for yourselves.

Right then, I’m off. Or on, to be more precise.

Please do drop by after the show. Freddie, who runs the merch table, tells me everything’s on sale. Mouse pads, souvenir programs, posters. . .we’ve got our black Sharpies ready in case you want a tea towel signed.

See you tonight.

Ticket to Ride, A Jason Davey Mystery #4
Genre: Traditional
Release: March 2022
Purchase Link

In Lost Time, professional musician / amateur sleuth Jason Davey was rehearsing for Figgis Green’s 50th Anniversary Tour of England. Now they’re on the road.

But when a fortune-teller in Sheffield warns them of impending danger, the band is suddenly plagued by a series of seemingly-unrelated mishaps.

After Jason is attacked and nearly killed in Cambridge, and a fire alarm results in a very personal theft from Mandy’s hotel room, it becomes clear they’re being targeted by someone with a serious grudge.

And when Figgis Green plays a gig at a private estate in Tunbridge Wells, that person finally makes their deadly intentions known.

Jason must rely on his instincts, his Instagram “guardian angel,” and a wartime ghost who might possibly share his DNA, in order to survive.

Ticket to Ride is the fourth book in Winona Kent’s mystery series featuring jazz musician-turned-amateur sleuth Jason Davey.

Meet the author
Winona Kent is an award-winning author who was born in London, England and grew up in Canada, where she completed her BA in English at the University of Regina. After moving to Vancouver, she graduated from UBC with an MFA in Creative Writing. More recently, she received her diploma in Writing for Screen and TV from Vancouver Film School. Winona has been a temporary secretary, a travel agent, a screenwriter and the Managing Editor of a literary magazine. She’s currently serving on the Board of the Crime Writers of Canada and is an active member of Sisters in Crime – Canada West. She lives in British Columbia, where she is happily embracing life as a full-time author.

All comments are welcomed.