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An Inside Job: Jimmy Blue
An Inside Job: Jimmy Blue
An Inside Job: Jimmy Blue
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An Inside Job: Jimmy Blue

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Tom Lewis has a monster in his head. You'd better pray it doesn't see you.

The plan is perfect. Almost perfect.
Stealing Carlson Lloyd's fortune will set the gang up for life.
At first, the robbery goes ahead with flawless precision. The insider sees to that.
Then it all goes horribly, tragically, wrong.
The survivors scatter, leaving the police no clues. The perpetrators won't face justice.
There's one loose end, but it's probably nothing.
The quiet gardener. A gentle giant.
A man with no home, no history, and nothing to say for himself.

But he's just a gardener. Right?

From Kindle Storyteller Award Winner, Ian W. Sainsbury, a gripping novella.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherFuse Books
Release dateJun 13, 2022
ISBN9798201705190
An Inside Job: Jimmy Blue

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    Book preview

    An Inside Job - Ian W. Sainsbury

    An Inside Job

    AN INSIDE JOB

    A JIMMY BLUE NOVELLA

    IAN W. SAINSBURY

    Fuse Books

    Copyright © 2022 by Ian Sainsbury


    Published by Fuse Books 2022


    All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

    CONTENTS

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Ready for book 1 in the compelling Jimmy Blue series?

    A preview of Winter Falls

    A preview of Winter Falls

    A preview of Winter Falls

    The Jimmy Blue series

    1

    Her name is Margarita, but when she buzzes the intercom she announces herself as Justine.

    Justine, she repeats to herself while she waits. It's the details that can catch you out. Justine.

    Where's Consuela? The voice of the nanny. Mrs. Lloyd always left for the office before dawn.

    Sick. Upset stomach. She hopes to be back tomorrow.

    I see. The intercom crackles. Ah... Justine, please don't be offended, but...

    Margarita smiles into the camera. Shrugs. Please. Call Consuela. I could be anybody, right?

    Thank you for understanding.

    Margarita looks away from the camera and examines the wrought-iron gates. The initials of the mistress and master of the house are worked into the design; when the gates close, they come together in a symbol of everlasting love. That bullshit statement probably cost more than Margarita's two-bed apartment.

    Sorry to keep you.

    The gates don't open, but there's a click and a person-sized door swings back within the design. A gate in a gate. Margarita steps through.

    Much of the house's exterior is obscured by a huge mimosa tree, budding with pink flowers.

    The door, blinding white, besieged by verdant creepers, is open. A wheelbarrow stands nearby and a huge man, broad, heavily muscled, pulls weeds from the borders. He shoots a glance at her but says nothing, returning to his work.

    Hello. A pale, tall, scrawny specimen in her forties holds out a hand for Margarita to shake. Brown hair pulled into a ponytail. Sensible shoes.

    I'm Anna, Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd’s housekeeper. Nanny to Charlotte.

    The nanny—no one likes to use the word servant in Austin—doesn’t need to introduce herself to Margarita, who has already memorised the information. Other than Anna, and the near-mute gardener, Tom, there's only Carlson Lloyd and his daughter Charlotte at home. It's almost too easy.

    Margarita keeps her eyes down. Would a curtsey be too much? Pleased to meet you.

    Follow me. Anna trots across a marble-floored lobby dominated by a staircase straight out of Gone With The Wind. The kitchen smells of coffee and fresh bread, then they step into a room full of washing machines, dryers, vacuum cleaners, floor polishers, and mops. Shelves loaded with chemical cleaners and cloths.

    Consuela never mentioned a niece.

    She and my mother argued, many years ago. I hope they reconcile. My mother is very sick.

    Oh. I see. I'm sorry. Good. The nanny is embarrassed. Perhaps she'll leave. But no.

    Will your aunt be well enough to work tomorrow? She sounded terrible.

    Margarita didn't doubt it for a second. Hector had pushed the barrel of a gun into Consuela's mouth while describing what he would do to her and her kids if she deviated from his instructions.

    By tomorrow, says Margarita, everything will be fine. Trust me.

    Once the housekeeper leaves, after telling the new cleaner which rooms need attention this morning, Margarita fills a bucket with hot water, squirts in detergent, and carries it through to the main lobby. The marble floor turns out to be much easier to clean than twenty-year-old linoleum.

    It's seven-fifty. Consuela’s shift ends at nine-thirty. If Margarita cleaned for a living, she has no doubt she'd be able to mop all the downstairs floors, and dust the living room as requested, but she has a different

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