David W. Robinson's Blog: Always Writing, page 35

A Long-Awaited Sequel

By my reckoning it’s about twenty years since I came up with the idea for The Handshaker.

It underwent many transformations before it finally appeared as a self-published novel in 2011. Crooked Cat Books took it over in January this year, on the promise of a sequel. That, too, has been a long time coming, but it is now in the final stages of editing, and ready to make its debut.

The Deep Secret, the tale of Felix Croft’s continuing struggle in the aftermath of The Handshaker murders, will be launched on Friday, October 25th.

The catalyst for The Handshaker was a little-known true story from pre-war Germany, in which criminal hypnotist, Franz Walter exerted control over a young woman only ever identified as Mrs E. in doing so, he apparently hypnotised her with a single touch on her arm. How is it done? Can it be done? The answer to those questions is The Deep Secret.

At the very outset, we find Croft living in the Canary Islands, when he receives a manuscript from a solicitor. Attached to it is a letter from a prison inmate explaining himself. Here is an extract from that letter.

***

I put together this manuscript from memory. That does not, however, mean there will be many inaccuracies. Apart from the war years, I have spent my whole life on the stage, delivering various acts to an appreciative public, and I have developed not only skills in escapology and a mastery of hypnotism, but also an eidetic memory.

There are certain segments which I have had to dramatise. They were not my experiences, but those of my old and trusted friend, Julius Reiniger. Likewise, there are those sections where it will be obvious that neither Julius nor I were present. My account of these incidents is based upon reports received from other parties. Franz Walter’s meeting with Anna Etzler, for example, is taken from a conversation between Walter and Julius, as is the later meeting between Walter and Hauptmann Lehrer. Captain Stokes related his discussions with senior military personnel to me. This does not mean the descriptions are inaccurate. Merely that they are second or third hand, and not eyewitness accounts of what happened.

Apart from these areas, everything happened as I have described.

Notwithstanding the adversity, no, enmity of our first meeting, Julius became the best friend I ever had, and it was to me that he entrusted The Deep Secret, a method of inducing instantaneous deep hypnosis with a single look, a single touch, not a word spoken, and without the compliance of the subject.

Such total control over the minds of our fellow men has been the desire of the power hungry since the dawn of time, and I make no excuses for numbering myself amongst them. I would not be here in this cell if I had not felt the urgent need for that power.

And yet, the professionals, the psychiatrists, the psychologists, those men who have made the study of the human mind, brain, consciousness, their life’s work, say that such control is no more than a wild fantasy, the basic fodder of the science fiction storyteller. I tell you that it is not a fantasy, it is not a daydream.

It is a reality.

***

The novel flashes back between shocking events in the here and now, to Heidelberg from the 1920s to the outbreak of war, and Great Britain in the aftermaths of the war. Like my other, more serious works, Voices and The Handshaker, The Deep Secret is no gentle STAC Mystery. It is a gritty, graphic, hard-hitting tale of violence and the greed for control.

***

The Deep Secret is published by Crooked Cat Books on October 25th 2013. There will be a launch event on Facebook and everyone is welcome.

Voices: A Study in … What?

Of all the works I’ve written, published or not, Voices remains one of my personal favourites. It’s also, in my opinion, one of the best I’ve ever turned out.

At 110,000 words, with scenes of sex and violence, and strong language, this is no cosy STAC Mystery.

What, exactly, is it?

Categorising Voices, is as big a nightmare as Chris Deacon’s (the central character) adventures. Is it sci-fi? Well, partly. Is it horror? Hmm, could be. Is it a psychological thriller? Possibly.

Like many of my works, Voices takes an ordinary man, this time a college tutor, and throws him into an extraordinary situation. So much of the detail is commonplace: his life, his marriage, friendships. But they’re torn apart when he survives a bomb attack at the college, and finds himself haunted by two phantoms; a soldier, whom he names Colonel Gun, and a tiny yet monstrous dwarf whom he names Egghead.

Left impotent and partially deaf after the explosion, he also begins to hear voices, and they’re ordering his life.

Ah, you say, post-traumatic stress disorder. A natural assumption, but is it right?

I’m not going to tell you.

What I will say is that Voices attracts consistently high ratings even from readers who don’t like sci-fi, horror, paranormal, psychological thrillers. Reader dkm1981, says, ‘I’m not one for the supernatural. I find all things ghostly a tad far-fetched and unbelievable’ and yet (s)he gave Voices five stars having… ‘found myself understanding the situation and believing it to be the truth’.

To help you make up your mind, here is a short extract from the book.

Chris is about to leave the hospital, the first survivor of the attack to do so, and it’s happening in blaze of media attention. Totally deaf, communicating via a Nokia smartphone, and accompanied by his wife, Jan, and Angela Heysham, a hospital administrator, he is led into a briefing room to face the press.

***

I’d anticipated a few reporters from the local rags begging for a few minutes of my time. Instead, the stroboscopic flash of cameras and powerful glare of TV lights greeted me as I walked into the room and I almost collapsed. There were at least a hundred people facing the trestle tables where Jan, Ms Heysham and I sat.

I trembled, but it had nothing to do with the surprise assembly. Sitting before a crowd of reporters and cameramen was no different to standing before a class of children in need of answers to their questions.

It was the silence: a silence so complete that it was deafening. I could feel my heart beating, but I could not hear it. I could feel the scrape of my chair on the floor as I sat, but I could not hear it. And when the spokeswoman read from her prepared statement and everyone in the room fell silent, I knew that none of them experienced it as totally as me. I knew what Angela Heysham was saying, but I could not hear it.

“Mr Deacon’s injuries are minor; a hairline fracture of the right medial malleolus … a broken ankle … a bump on the back of his head, and some cuts and bruises. We are, however, concerned on two fronts. He is unable to hear. We will be carrying out tests to ascertain the extent of any noise damage to the cochlear. He is also suffering from shock induced temporary aphasia. He is unable to speak. We will monitor the situation but we are confident that he will make a full recovery.”

Angela threw the interview to the media and even though I could hear nothing, I felt like she had thrown me to the lions.

The press, as if they had not heard a word about my deaf/mute condition, bombarded me with questions. I felt panic rising in me. I saw concerned and eager faces, mouths moving to deliver words, greedy eyes fixed on me, but it meant nothing. They could have been asking what I had for dinner, what I thought of England’s chances for the 2010 World Cup, whether I was looking forward to jumping my wife again, anything.

Jan fielded almost all of their questions. Her hand clinging to mine, she became my anchor in this twisted reality. Without her I would be jelly, a small child, bereft of hearing, voice and sanity, overwhelmed by an adult world that made no sense. But she remained cool and in control. Once or twice she translated questions to the Nokia for me, simple ones to which I could nod or shake my head. Now and then, I saw a frown cross her face before she let loose with a tight-lipped response.

Ms Heysham dealt with the more awkward, medical type questions, and after a quarter of an hour a team of burly security guards escorted us through a throng of reporters, to Tony’s waiting car. With the press jostling, thrusting their cameras forward to get pictures, throwing out questions I could not hear, I began to panic again. Our minders opened the car doors. I tossed my crutch into the front seat, Jan climbed in the back and I eased my injured leg in.

Closing the door, I avoided the cameras by looking straight ahead through the windscreen and there was Egghead less than twenty yards away, leaning against a “No Parking” sign.

Tony sped off. Some of the press hurried to their cars to follow. I tried to relax. How long before they would let me be? How long before these disturbing hallucinations stopped? How the hell had I become mixed up in this madness?

***

Voices is published by Crooked Cat Books and is available for download from:

Amazon UK (Kindle)

Amazon Worldwide (Kindle)

Smashwords (all formats)

Crooked Cat Books (EPUB, MOBI, PDF)

And in paperback from

Amazon UK

Amazon Worldwide

The STAC Mysteries Website

Well, it had to happen. At some stage the STAC Mysteries had to have their own website, and it’s now up and running at http://stacmysteries.com/

The site was designed and built by Annette Thomson of Meldrum Media. Annette did a fantastic job, and if you’re looking for a slick website, with all the bells and whistles, then drop into Meldrum. Annette is only too happy to talk over your requirements, and there’s no pressure for a quick decision.

So what happens with this site now that STAC have moved house.

Well it’s not the last you’ll hear of them here, but dwrob.com will now concentrate more on my other work, the darker stuff, the comedy stuff, and Maddy Chester, the new whodunit series (when I get it off the ground).

For now, why not nip over to the STAC Mysteries and see what it’s all about. You’ll find the blog under “The View From the Lazy Luncheonette” and to get the full effect, click on any of the book links. I’m sure you’ll be as pleased as I was with the result.

And if you want to keep truly up to date with news of Joe, Sheila, Brenda and co, you can register to be notified by email.

See you over there.

Two Lively Ladies

Back in the balmy days when the internet wasn’t much more than two computers tied together with a length of string, I was a member of a writer’s group called Writelink, and it was on there that I had the good fortune (or otherwise) to meet two ladies: Lorraine Mace and Maureen Vincent-Northam. (You’ll see, as we go on, why their names are in red)

Regular readers will know that Maureen acts as my editor. Those who are more widely read will recognise Lorraine as a columnist for Writing Magazine and a tutor for the Writers’ Bureau.

Their advice over the years proved invaluable, not only to me, but, I suspect, to many other writers, too, especially after they got together to produce the Writer’s ABC Checklist. This book, the only reference volume I keep handy, contains every scrap of information the writer needs, other than the authors’ bank account details. Well, you can’t have everything can you?

There’s an old adage that runs something like: those who can, do, those who can’t, teach. In the case of Maureen and Lorraine, it’s not true. Not only do they tell you how it should be done, but they do it.

Those of you now hyperventilating through these Carry On type double entendres, should calm down. I’m talking about writing books.

Not content with telling you how to write books, articles, short stories, Maureen went onto tell you how to trace your family history in a volume entitled Trace Your Roots, and just to show that’s she can turn a hand to fiction, she also produced a smashing little kids’ book entitled Black Dog’s Treasure.

Lorraine took a different route. Like me, she delved into the darker corners of human misbehaviour and under the pen name Frances di Plino came up with Bad Moon Rising, a masterly crime thriller guaranteed to keep you turning the page. As a friend, I saw early drafts of this book, and I said then it was a winner.

Well, she’s done it again. Today sees the return of Paolo Storey, the cop on a mission. He’s chasing another nutter in Someday Never Comes, and I guarantee that it will be every bit as nerve-jangling as the first volume.

One thing about us old Writelinkers; we know how to party (why do you think my knees are so shot?) and Lorraine/Frances is no exception. She has spared no expense in putting on a mega-thrash over on Facebook, and everyone is welcome. There’s music, games, quizzes with magnificent prizes, but remember, the food and drink not real. You could starve to death on those virtual sausage rolls, and you’ll wait days to get pissed on that virtual champagne.

So get yourself over to Facebook, or stop pratting about here and get over to Amazon where you can order your copy of Someday Never Comes.

***

Someday Never Comes by Frances di Plino is published by Crooked Cat Books and available for download from:

Amazon UK (Kindle)

Amazon Worldwide (Kindle)

Smashwords (all formats)

Crooked Cat Books (EPUB, MOBI, PDF)

And in paperback from:

Amazon UK

Amazon Worldwide

For the Love of Filey

Unlike many authors, I don’t solicit reviews. People read my books and they review them or they don’t. When they do, I’m grateful, but I’m not unduly anxious about it.

The Filey Connection, the very first STAC Mystery, has been on sale since March last year, and this morning, it collected its 34th review. Of those, the majority are 5- or 4-star, the highest possible ratings.

Although The Filey Connection introduced us to the Sanford Third Age Club, it was as much about the town as it was Joe, Sheila, Brenda and the gang.

It’s an old story but I met my wife when we were both working in Filey in 1979. Butlins had a huge camp just outside the town back then, and we were both there for the summer season. I remember it being a free and easy time. I’d just come through a nasty divorce and getting away from Leeds to work on the coast for five months was exactly the tonic I needed.

Filey is a pretty little seaside town between Scarborough and Bridlington on the Yorkshire coast. It’s been subjected to much modernisation since the days when my wife and I lived and worked there, but the fine, sandy beach, sitting in its own bay is as inviting as ever. The Brigg provides a natural breakwater against the power of the North Sea, and even as a child I recall walking along the slippery rocks, and looking down on the marine life in the pools at low tide.

Rockpools on Filey Brigg

Back in 1979 when the questionable delights of the staff dining hall paled, I’d nip down to Filey for a couple of pints and pies in the Three Tuns, which still stands on Murray Street. I had many a lock-in at the Grapes on Queen Street and many a lively night at the Belle Vue, the town’s only nightclub.

These days, when we stay in Filey, it serves as a base, a hub from where we can easily reach the other resorts in the area: Scarborough, Bridlington, and especially Whitby, my mother’s favourite seaside town.

We moved back to my wife’s home town near Manchester after the end of the 1979 season, and the Butlins camp closed in the early eighties. If we holiday abroad these days, it has more to do with climate than preference, but those fond memories of Filey have never faded. We celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary in 2006, and I toyed with a number of ideas from New York to the Maldives, but my missus was adamant about where she wanted to go. Filey. Where we first met.

Sentimental tosh in my book, but I acquiesced, and it was there on a hot weekend in September 2006, that the idea of Joe Murray and his pals solving a crime first occurred to me.

***

The Filey Connection is published by Crooked Cat Books ad is available for download from:

Amazon UK (Kindle)

Amazon Worldwide (Kindle)

Smashwords (All formats)

Crooked Cat Books (EPUB, MOBI, PDF)

And in paperback from:

Amazon UK

Amazon Worldwide

A Nightmare Fortnight and a Cover Reveal

Two weeks ago my car packed up. We knew it was on its last legs, but it still hurt to the tune of £800. Having sorted that out, I began to prepare for the launch of STAC Mystery #9, Costa del Murder, which is due out on September 6th.

And that’s when the computer packed up.

I did a bit of ringing round chasing repairs, but it was seven years old and trying to mend it would be like trying to repair a 1961 Mark I Ford Cortina with parts from a 2013 Ford Focus. I had to bite the bullet and buy a new machine. Another £300 gone.

I am now the proud owner of a second hand Kia Rio and new tower hard drive with more memory than I will use in two lifetimes.

I am also the proud owner of a supermassive black hole which used to be my bank account. The balance has dropped faster than the first wife’s knickers when the bloke over the street used to call.

But we appear to have weathered the storm, and calm is on the horizon. It began this morning with the cover reveal for Costa del Murder (above if you hadn’t already worked it out).

The ninth STAC Mystery is due out in about a month, and there is the usual party on Facebook. Everyone is welcome. Obviously, it will be Spanish themed, so bring along your bottle of Sangria, a plate of paella and your own maracas.

You Read It Here First

In Chapter Eight of The Summer Wedding Murder, Joe, his mind distracted by the murderer’s machinations, as usual, is on his way to meet Sheila and Brenda, when he bumps into a slightly eccentric woman.

She’s taking photographs of gravestones, and introduces herself as: “Madeleine Chester. Most people call me Maddy.”

Well, Maddy Chester is to get a series of her own.

That’s the statement of intent. Saying it and making it happen are two different things, but the opening of Maddy’s first case, The Body in the Graveyard is now written.

Let’s meet her, shall we?

***

Maddy Chester drove home the final, large screw, and stood back to admire her handiwork.

She was now the proud owner of a rustic timber slice, the bark left on its oval outer edge, its surface deep-varnished, the legend Stilldiggin burned into it and painted a rich, dark brown.

Standing alongside Maddy, Clem Trevis, the postman, screwed up his face in an impossible vision of surprise and puzzlement. “Stilldiggin?”

“It’s better than boring old number 96 Cliff Road, isn’t it?” Maddy suggested.

“I suppose so,” Clem agreed, “but what does it mean?”

“Well, you know how some people call their houses Dunroamin?”

Clem nodded. “We have a few Dunroamins round here, Mrs Chester.”

“It’s Ms Chester, not Mrs,” Maddy scolded him. “Well, I’m a genealogist, so—”

“You chisel bits of rock off the cliffs,” Clem interrupted.

“No. That’s a geologist.” Maddy sighed and tried to think of a simple way of explaining herself. “I dig into peoples’ pasts. Find out who they’re related to.”

The postman stroked his chin. “Shouldn’t think you’ll have much trouble here, then.  I reckon if you go back three generations, everyone is related to everyone else.”

Maddy gave up the effort. “Yes, well, I can tell them that for sure, can’t I? Anyway, as I was saying, people eventually settle down in the house where they intend to stay for the rest of their lives, and they’re Dunroamin. You see?”

With a slow nod, as if expecting some startling revelation, Clem nodded.

“Well, if I’d given it all up and retired, I would have called my house Dundiggin, but I haven’t given it up. I’m still doing it, so it’s Stilldiggin.”

***

I told you she was eccentric, didn’t I?

Maddy is not just a genealogist. She’s also something of a TV personality, having fronted a series helping well-known people trace their ancestry (I wonder where that idea came from) and she has a weekly slot on a local breakfast program.

Naturally all this, plus her calling as a family history researcher, makes her an ideal detective.

It’s way too early to say that it will be published by Crooked Cat, but they deal with so much of my work that they will be given first refusal. When will it be released? That’s anyone’s guess.

But remember; you read it here first.

***

The Summer Wedding Murder, STAC Mystery #8 is published by Crooked Cat books and available as an e-book download from:

Amazon UK (Kindle)

Amazon Worldwide (Kindle)

Smashwords (all formats)

Crooked Cat Books (EPUB, MOBI, PDF)

And in paperback from:

Amazon UK

Amazon Worldwide

Yorkshire Day

Today, August 1st, is Yorkshire Day.

I live on the outskirts of Manchester these days, but don’t be fooled. I’m a true son of the White Rose, and if I’ve moved out of God’s County, it’s because they shifted the boundary after I moved here.

I hear a lot of twaddle talked about Yorkshire folk, but none it gets even close to the truth. We saw the Vikings off (eventually) and if William won at Hastings, it’s only because our lads had to hike all the way down there. And what about Richard at Bosworth. All he wanted was a horse, and it’s not like he was asking anyone to give him it. He was offering his kingdom in exchange. That’s what I call a fair trade. You can have the rest of England, just leave me with Yorkshire.

There are many fine inventions which came from Yorkshire. Percy Shaw, the man who invented cat’s eyes, came from Halifax. Joseph Bramah, who came from Stainborough near Barnsley, developed the beer pump. Where would we be without him, today?

Perhaps the finest invention was the mechanic’s frown. You know the one I mean. He pushes his cap back, scratches his head, shakes his head and purses his lips as he frowns. It’s body language. You know that if you’re trying to sell him something he’ll only pay half what you’re expecting, and if you want it mending, it’s going to cost twice as much as you budgeted.

When you’re brought up in Yorkshire, the first two words you learn are not “Mummy” and “Daddy.” They’re “How much?” delivered with a level of incredulity that would do justice to TV reports of an alien landing outside Parliament.

Arkwright, admirably portrayed by Ronnie Barker, was, to my mind, the definitive Yorkshireman. When asked to give directions, he replied, “I will sell you directions.”

That’s the thing about your average Yorkshireman. Always hit ’em where they’ll feel it. In the wallet. I make no excuses for setting up Joe, Sheila and Brenda of STAC Mysteries fame as Yorkshire folk. They’re the ones I know best.

I’ve lived on the outskirts of Manchester for over thirty years, but I still pass the true test of a Yorkshireman. When asked “What’s the best thing to come to of Manchester?” only a genuine Yorkshireman will give the correct answer.

The M62: because it goes to Yorkshire.

Happy Yorkshire Day.

Costa del Murder

The month turns and tomorrow it will be the 1st of August, which means just five weeks and two days to the release of STAC Mystery #9, Costa del Murder.

I still don’t have a finalised cover image but the moment I do, it will appear here first.

The story, as you may guess from the title, is a departure fort STAC. A departure by aeroplane as it happens. Joe has suffered a suspected heart attack, he needs some downtime, and as we saw in The Summer Wedding Murder, he needs to stop smoking. The girls are determined to make him do as he should, so they’re taking him off to sunny Torremolinos for a week… at his expense.

Naturally, it’s not all sun, sea, sand and plain sailing, and it doesn’t take long for matters to go awry.

Here’s a short extract. Joe, Sheila and Brenda have just arrived at Apartmentos Ingles, and Juan Pinero has been detailed to show them to their apartment.

“You speak English, Juan?” Joe asked as they squeezed into the lift.

“Si, señor. My English is very excellent.”

“So what do you do, Juan?” Brenda asked, her eye roaming his tight biceps.

“Do, señorita?”

“It’s señora, not señorita,” Brenda said. “And I meant what is your job?”

“Ah, my job. I am the maintenance operative. All of the odd jobs I do around the place, as well as ordering the cleaners.”

“So you’re quite versatile?”

Juan gave Brenda a lusty leer. “Si, señora. You will find that Juan is Juan of the best.” He grinned, flashing even white teeth.

Joe, too, smiled, with the feeling that in a contest between Brenda and Juan, the Spaniard would come off second best.

At the seventh floor, the lift doors rumbled open to reveal a stout, middle-aged man waiting. Dressed in white flannels, a pale blue, open necked shirt, and white Panama hat, he reminded Joe of a cricket umpire.

He beamed at them as they stepped out of the lift.

“Good morning, Colonel,” Juan greeted.

The smile faded and he scowled. “Morning, Pinero.” His ingratiating smile returned as he concentrated on the women. “Holgate. Colonel Thomas Holgate, late of the High Peak Rifles.”

Joe offered his hand. “I’m Joe Murray, and these are my companions, Sheila Riley and Brenda Jump.”

Holgate fiddled with a hearing aid and ignored Joe’s handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr Murphy.

Joe was about to correct him when the lift doors began to close. Holgate jammed his stick in the gap and, tipping his hat to the women, stepped in. “If you’ll excuse me.”

The doors closed and Juan led Joe and his companions along the deck.

“Is he a resident?” Joe asked.

“Si, señor. He is not a nice man.”

“He seemed pleasant enough,” Sheila commented.

“With you, señora, but not with me or the maids or any Spanish. He looks down on us and always he criticises. Not a nice man.”

***

Does Holgate have any significance? Does Juan have a part to play in the developing drama? Will Joe get used to the searing heat of the Costa del Sol and will he pack the evil weed in?

You’ll have to wait until September 6th to find out.

In the meantime, we’re arranging a launch party on Facebook, and you’re welcome to come along.

But bring your own castanets and sombrero.

A Chart Hit, A New Release and A Christmas Preview

It’s a busy time for the STAC Mysteries. The Summer Wedding Murder was released about six weeks ago, and it’s proving one of the most popular in the series so far, maintaining a consistently high ranking on Amazon UK.

The next title in the series, Costa del Murder, is scheduled for release on Friday September 6th, and I confidently expect it to do as well as the other titles. We’re still waiting for a cover image for it, but as soon as it’s available, I’ll put it up here.

In the meantime, the STAC Mysteries are getting their own website. Early plans are with a designer as I write, and more on that as we get nearer to completion.

Nothing get on my nerves more than people yakking on about Christmas in the middle of summer. This year, I’ve decided, if you can’t beat them, join them, and here’s a taster for STAC Mystery #10. Relying on Joe’s usual brand of cynical humour, the working title is The Christmas Party Killing, and we’re aiming to release before Christmas.

Here’s an excerpt from the opening chapter. Called to Ballantyne Distribution where he will be catering for the office party, Joe has already been warned and reported for wandering round the company’s premises without a high-visibility vest or jacket. On entering the building, he meets with security.

***

Pushing his way in through the glass doors, he found himself confronted with a small security station, and two uniformed officers, one male the other female, monitoring CCTV images on a screen. The man stood up and crossed to his counter.

Joe announced himself. “I’m here to see Dave Kane.”

The guard, short but no less rotund than the one on the main gate, looked him up and down. “So you’re the one without a hi-vis vest?”

“Not you, too?” Joe tutted. “I am wearing vest, but it’s under my shirt and it’s plain white, not hi-vis. Right? Now can you show me to Dave Kane’s office?”

The guard took out his pen. “It’s a breach of health and safety regulations, and I’ll have to log it in my book.”

Joe glanced at his watch. “Now listen to me, sunbeam. I have an appointment with Dave Kane at a quarter to three. I’ve already had some little Hitler on the main gate giving me earache, and I’ve had arguments with two of your drivers, so I’m not really in a mood for your nitpicking. Now sign me in and show me to Dave Kane’s office.”

“But it’s a beach of regulations,” insisted the guard.

“I don’t care if it’s a breach of the peace or a breach of the nuclear proliferation treaty or breach of your britches. I am due to meet with Dave Kane.”

“I have to make a note of this.” The guard leaned on his counter. “Name?”

Joe took out his mobile. “I already told you my name. Joe Murray.” He called up the phonebook and dialled Dave Kane’s number.

“Department?” asked the guard.

“What?”

“What department do you work in?”

“I don’t work in any department,” Joe said, and his call was answered he spoke into his phone. “Dave? It’s Joe. Joe Murray. I’m at the entrance to the sort centre, and some muppet here is trying to get me fired.”

At the other end of the call, Dave Kane laughed. “Have you told him you don’t work here?”

“I have, but I might as well take out an advert in the Sanford Gazette for all the notice he’s taking.”

“I’ll be right down, Joe.”

Joe cut the connection and concentrated on the guard. “Dave is on his way.”

Poring over his incident report, the guard scratched his head. “It says here, I have to log your department, but if you don’t work here, how can I?”

“You seriously think I should give a toss?”

The guard turned away from Joe. “Sandra, this form’s all wrong. It’s only for employees. Don’t we have one for visitors?”

Sandra, who between periods of watching the CCTV, had her nose buried in a magazine on hair care, shrugged. “Dunno.” She did not stop reading to reply.

Using his pen, the guard dug out a chunk of earwax and aimed it at the waste bin. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to about this.”

“See your doctor. He’ll syringe your ears,” Joe suggested.

***

The Christmas Party Killing, STAC Mystery #10 is expected to be released in late November/early December 2013.

Costa del Murder, STAC Mystery #9 will be published by Crooked Cat Books on Friday, September 6th 2013 and will be available as a paperback and e-book download.

The Summer Wedding Murder, STAC Mystery #8 is available as an ebook download from:

Amazon UK (Kindle)

Amazon Worldwide (Kindle)

Smashwords (all formats)

Crooked Cat Books (EPUB, MOBI, PDF)

And in paperback from

Amazon UK

Amazon Worldwide