Yahoo Lifestyle A Serial Killer’s Secret Is on the Line in Samantha Downing’s Thriller “Too Old for This ”(Exclusive)
Read an exclusive excerpt from the author’s forthcoming novel, which hits shelves in summer 2025
Jacqueline Dallimore, Berkley
Samantha Downing and the cover of 'Too Old for This'Samantha Downing is back on her thriller game with her upcoming release.
Downing is the author of bestsellers like My Lovely Wife, A Twisted Love Story and For Your Own Good. PEOPLE can exclusively share the cover of the author’s forthcoming thriller, Too Old for This, due out this summer from Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Random House.
Lottie Jones, a retired serial killer, thought she left her life of crime behind. She moved to a small town, changed her name and has largely stayed out of the spotlight. That is, until Plum Dixon arrives at her home.
Berkley
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Plum, an investigative journalist, is quick to hound Lottie with questions about her past, not to mention her involvement with a number of unsolved crime cases. All chances Lottie has at trying to silence Plum become more complicated when another mysterious guest appears on her doorstep — someone who may be the end of her, too.
Read on for an exclusive excerpt from Too Old for This.
Jacqueline Dallimore
Samantha Downing“As I was saying, Reboot Productions specializes in telling the story behind the story. Here let me show you the site.” She pulls out her phone and jumps out of her seat, shoving the screen in front of my face.
“Looks nice.”
“What I like to do is really dig into a story, I investigate—”
“So you’re a reporter.”
“No, I’m the producer. I own the company.” Plum smiles. She is quite proud of this. I’m sure it is a tremendous accomplishment but I would be happier if she stopped hounding me.
“Congratulations.” The teapot whistles. I pour boiling water into our cups.
“Thank you. But I’m more interested in talking about you, not me.”
Here it is. I may be 75 years old, but I know a sales pitch when I hear one. It hasn’t been that long since I bought my last car, and Plum reminds me a little of the car salesman. Not a compliment.
I set the tray of tea and sugar and milk and spoons down on the table.
“You really didn’t have to go to this much trouble,” Plum says.
“I think I have some cookies as well.”
“You don’t have to—”
“It’s no trouble. No trouble at all.”
She puts a dollop of cream in her tea, ignores the sugar and stirs it before removing the tea bag. Now the string is all wound up in the stem of the spoon. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her try to discreetly untangle it.
We all have different skills, I suppose.
“Mrs. Jones, I think—”
“Please. Call me Lottie.”
“Lottie, okay. Well, Lottie, you’ve had one of the most fascinating lives I’ve come across. Lots of people would love to hear your side of the story.”
I sit down and stir my own tea, not adding sugar or milk. Both are bad, according to my doctor.
“Your story is exactly what we do,” she says. “We investigate old crimes and compare what we know now to how it was reported then. You lost your job, your family, probably all your friends. And the names they called you were so horrible! The media acted like you were some kind of she-devil.”
She-devil. They did call me that, along with “that woman serial killer” and sometimes “the psycho bitch.” It all happened before the internet. The era of tabloid journalism was a precursor of things to come.
“How’s your tea?” I ask.
“Lottie, I want to tell the story of what happens when you were wrongfully accused of a crime. You were tried and convicted by the public without ever being arrested, and I want to focus on what that was like for you.”
“Why would I want you to dredge all that up? The world has forgotten about me. I moved on years ago.”
“Did you?” she says. Plum glances around my ancient kitchen, in the house where I live alone. To someone like her, Bluebell Lane probably feels like the end of the world.
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This girl has some bite. Good for her.
“Let me be very clear,” I say. “I don’t want this brought up again, and I don’t want a docuseries made about me.”
“I’m not going to blame you for the murders or claim that you should’ve been arrested. I want to exonerate you once and for all. And just so you know, I plan to make the series anyway.”
That’s a new piece of information.
Plum has aquamarine eyes. Clear, translucent, beautiful. Long, natural lashes and rosy cheeks. The glow of youth radiates out of every pore.
For a moment, I imagine the series she has described. Me, an accused murderer, is absolved, cleared, exculpated. An elderly woman who was the victim of a system that got it all wrong.
But I don’t believe in fairy tales. If she made this show and put me all over the internet, that isn’t how it would end. Not for me.
I stand up. “Silly me, I forgot the napkins. But please continue, I’m listening.”
“If you agree to an interview, we can do it right here at your house. I’m flexible about time, we can break it up into a few different interviews or do it all at once. Whatever you prefer.”
“You live around here?”
“In Seattle. But I can come down anytime, and I’ll bring a cameraman with me.”
“Good to know.” I reach into the corner, to the stand near the back door, and pick up my old umbrella. “Why don’t you show me some clips of what you’ve done before?”
Plum buries her head in her phone, scrolling to find something else to show me. I walk up behind her and lift the umbrella above my head.
She looks up.
Unfortunately for Plum, she sees it coming.
Cover and excerpt from TOO OLD FOR THIS by Samantha Downing. Text copyright (c) 2025 by Samantha Downing. Reprinted by permission of Penguin Random House. All rights reserved.
Too Old for This will be published on Aug. 12, 2025 and is now available for preorder, wherever books are sold.
