Book Extract: The Secret Sauce by M. J. Porter

I am so pleased to be welcoming M. J. Porter back to Novel Kicks and the blog tour for The Secret Sauce, the third book in the Erdington Mysteries.

Birmingham, England, November 1944.

Chief Inspector Mason of Erdington Police Station is summoned to a suspicious death at the BB Sauce factory in Aston on a wet Monday morning in late November 1944.

Greeted by his enthusiastic sergeant, O’Rourke, Sam Mason finds himself plunged into a challenging investigation to discover how Harry Armstrong met his death in a vat containing BB Sauce – a scene that threatens to put him off BB Sauce on his bacon sandwiches for the rest of his life.

Together with Sergeant O’Rourke, Mason follows a trail of seemingly unrelated events until something becomes very clear. The death of Harry Armstrong was certainly murder, and might well be connected to the tragedy unfolding at nearby RAF Fauld. While the uncertainty of war continues, Mason and O’Rourke find themselves seeking answers from the War Office and the Admiralty, as they track down the person who murdered their victim in such an unlikely way.

Join Mason and O’Rourke for the third book in the quirky, historical mystery series, as they once more attempt to solve the impossible in 1940s Erdington.

M.J. Porter has shared the opening from The Secret Sauce with us today. We hope you enjoy. 

*****beginning of extract*****

Aston, Monday, 27th November 1944

Sam Mason walked into the large space of the factory, the smell from within making his eyes widen in alarm, which he immediately regretted. The sharp, vinegary aroma felt like it was burning his eyes as well as his nostrils. He clamped his mouth shut. It was one thing to smell Big Ben Sauce when the bottle was opened to pour onto his bacon sandwich, but quite another to experience it in such a concentrated way. He was unsure how the employees of the BB Sauce factory could tolerate it on a day-to-day basis. He was only grateful that Ansell’s brewery, which was almost next door, wasn’t also emitting the distinctive smell from its manufacturing process.

He winced as his back ached from holding his head back as though to avoid the smell, but the sight of O’Rourke ahead, already bending low to examine the cause of their summoning to the location, had him striding towards her. Well, striding as much as he could with his limp, which was pronounced. Outside, it was a damp, wet and cold Monday morning in late November, and he was pleased with whoever had thought to place sacking on the ground to absorb wet footprints over the slick concrete surface of the BB Sauce factory.

Sam took the time to look around. The room was huge, with high windows allowing light within, or at least, whatever the grey murk of the day could be termed. Perhaps on a summer’s day, it might be pleasant, but not today. The dankness reminded him of the tragedy that had brought him here.

‘Morning, O’Rourke,’ he called to the younger woman, bending carefully over the splayed corpse on the ground, directing the police photographer where she wanted him to take photos of the deceased. Her police-issue peaked cap was carefully arranged over a collection of black hair, tightly braided. He admired how she always managed to look so well presented, even with a corpse on the ground before her, and a gas mask getting in the way where it hung around her neck. He considered his attire and glanced down at his boots. They’d been freshly polished this morning, but the rain had ruined the effort it had taken to get them shining as brightly as Superintendent Smythe demanded.

‘Good morning, Chief Inspector,’ she replied brightly. He suppressed a smile. It wasn’t right in such a situation, but O’Rourke’s enthusiasm was infectious. She did enjoy a good crime to solve. It helped she was so good at it. Perhaps it was only right she took pride in her work. There were, undoubtedly, other members of the Erdington Police Station staff who could benefit from emulating her.

‘What have we got?’ he questioned, peering over her shoulder to eye the body of a male, age, for now, indeterminate. The stringent smell of vinegar washed over him once more. The corpse was in much better condition than some bodies he’d been summoned to attend, but still, it was quite noxious, only in a very different way.

‘They say his name is Harry Winterhouse, thirty-four years old, living on Belvedere Road, Erdington. Or at least, he was.’ Her tone carried an edge of sorrow. There was professional pride in being summoned to solve the murder, and also grief for the man’s death. The two weren’t always divisible.

‘And he was found like this?’ Sam queried, feeling his forehead furrow in thought. Already, a host of possibilities were running through his mind as to how the younger man had met his death.

‘Oh no, sir, sorry. He was found over there, in that,’ and she pointed towards a large stainless steel vat pulled aside from three others. ‘I’ll show you in a minute. They dragged him out. I suspect they hoped he might still be alive, but he certainly wasn’t.’

‘Hum,’ Sam mused, already realising valuable evidence could have been disturbed or destroyed. The flash of the camera bulb in the hands of the police photographer had him focusing on the face of the dead man. Even in death, he seemed quite handsome, features carefully balanced, moustache neatly groomed, perhaps once his pride and joy, although Sam did notice a slight cut from shaving on the victim’s chin.

‘How long had he been here for?’ Sam continued to question. After all, it was Monday morning. No factory worked on a Sunday, and it would have been closed on Saturday afternoon as well, like all factories.

‘No one knows. Mr Ben, the manager, said when he locked up on Saturday at 2 pm, there was no one here, and the vats were empty, as they have to be every Saturday afternoon.’

‘What?’ Sam questioned.

‘Oh, sorry, sir,’ and O’Rourke stood smoothly, which Sam eyed enviously, and flashed him a nod and a smile. ‘So,’ and she walked towards where she’d indicated the body had been found, being careful to avoid the obvious splashes of brown smeared on the ground, and pointed within. ‘See, there’s something in there now.’

Sam peered inside the large stainless steel vat, suspecting it was as wide as a man is long, and somewhat unsure of what he’d actually find within. But it was merely a layer of brown fluid, which he assumed was BB Sauce, although it didn’t seem to be as thick as he thought it should be. The mixture reached as high as his thigh. He veered away from the sharp, vinegary smell once more. It was even more unpleasant close up.

‘So, he was found in it?’ he tried not to squeak in surprise. The overwhelming smell had already been making him feel nauseous. Now he felt even sicker.

‘Entirely in it. They only realised he was there because the top of his head was just showing when someone peeked in. If not…. Well, I wouldn’t like to consider what would have happened then,’ O’Rourke offered conversationally.

Sam swallowed bile and thought he might never enjoy Big Ben Sauce on his bacon sandwich again. Clearly, O’Rourke wasn’t a fan of it, or she wouldn’t be making such comments.

*****end of extract*****

About M. J. Porter –

I’m an author of historical fiction and non-fiction (Early English (Saxon), Vikings and the British Isles as a whole before the Norman Conquest, as well as five twentieth-century mysteries), born in the old Mercian kingdom at some point since the end of 1066. Historical mysteries allow me to use such modern inventions as the telephone and the car, which is very exciting when I spend so much of my time worrying about feeding the horses my warriors usually ride.

I was raised in the shadow of a strange little building and told from a very young age it housed the bones of long-dead kings of Mercia, it’s little wonder my curiosity in the early English ran riot. I can only blame my parents!

I like to write. You’ve been warned!

Say hello via this link.

The Secret Sauce is book three in the third book in the Erdington Mysteries and was released in August 2025. Click to buy on Amazon UK, Amazon US and Waterstones. 

by

Laura

I'm Laura. I started Novel Kicks back in 2009 as I wanted a place to discuss books and writing - two loves of my life. As someone who has anxiety, these two things give me, and I am sure countless others, a much needed escape.
There is a monthly book club, writing exercises, prompts, reviews, author interviews, competitions and guest posts. I cover many genres and I hope there is something for everyone.
I grew up by the sea in Dorset and currently live in Poole with my husband, Chris and three cats. I love writing and have a BA (Hons) in Creative Writing from Falmouth University. I am writing my first book. If only I could stop pressing delete. Chris has threatened to stop it from working. Haha.
I have always loved creative writing since I was in first school and would very much like to meet my teacher, Miss Sayers, to say thank you for all the encouragement she gave me then.
When not writing, I love reading, cats, Disney, singing (I can't sing but this doesn't stop me,) and falling into a good TV show or film. If I could step into any fictional world, it would be amongst the characters in ABC's Once Upon a Time.
I love reading many genres and discovering new authors.