The Murder of Madame X: The Limeslade Mystery, 1929 by Mark John Maguire

My book of the above title is done, it is published, following 3 years work. It has been something of a prison sentence, albeit one undertaken voluntarily. Sometimes it has seemed like solitary confinement all my hopes have been pinned on a sudden breakthrough, which has failed to materialise: it has seemed disastrous. The parole board has denied me parole again. I have abandoned all hope of its publication, only to have my hopes renewed, by some small encouragement. A fresh appeal, perhaps. But it is done. It is a sort of end and a new beginning. The great doors of the prison have opened upon the world and I blink in the sunlight of tomorrow. I look in the mirror and find myself a little older my children are grown. The shed is listing, the garden neglected, and the weeds run rampant on the patio. I need a shave. But it is done: the curious ghosts who have watched me from Plunch Lane, wonder at my purpose still: why am I here I am here to tell a The Murder of a woman one cold night