The new crime series set in Devon is on its way.
Set in the 1990s, this isn’t an adventure for Dan and Alan since the duo would’ve been far too young to go chasing criminals. But this book will give a starring role to a character from the Devonshire Mysteries.
Tim Spiller, the world-weary detective inspector you’ve met before, is a fresh-faced detective constable starting his first job in CID. He’s done his time in uniform, but he’s ready to do some detective work, and he’s moved to Exeter to take up a post. Tim is young and full of zeal, and he’s only been married to his wife Sheila for a year.
He’s keen to impress, but how will he get on with his first case?
This is a crime novel of the kind often called a police procedural, and it’s a shade darker than the Devonshire Mysteries. The villains tend to be nasty pieces of work. There are violent crimes, although I’m not interested in going overboard with blood and gore, so I don’t think it will keep anybody up at night (unless they’re eagerly turning the pages to see what happens next). Fans of Ian Rankin or Anne Cleeves will, I hope, find something to enjoy in this book.
If you’ve read my work, there are elements that you’ll recognise. There’s a little wry humour in almost everything I write, and I’m always very interested in characters I create. The story takes place over a few days, and I think it’s fairly pacy. I’ve found it quite quick to redraft, mainly because I’ve enjoyed racing through the chapters, and that’s a good sign.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this snippet which is an early draft. I will be looking for beta readers soon, and the book will be edited after that.
I’m not revealing the title just yet, but that will come soon.
At this point in the story, Spiller has arrived early for his first day, and the only other person in the CID office is Detective Chief Superintendent Mark Boyce. Spiller is somewhat in awe of his new boss. They’ve exchanged a few words over a mug of tea, but DCS Boyce is quite a reserved and formal officer, so the pair quickly run out of things to say. It’s about time the other detectives show up, so let’s dive in!
Excerpt From Chapter 1
1992
The door opened, and both men breathed easier as a besuited man strode into the room.
The new arrival greeted Boyce, then acknowledged Spiller with a nod. “You must be my new DC. Tim Spiller, am I right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tim was here early, raring to go,” Boyce said. To Spiller, he added, “This is Detective Superintendent John Chisholm. He’ll set you on the straight and narrow. You’ll be seeing more of him than you will of me, although…” Boyce looked from Chisholm to Spiller. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Tim. I’m not going to hold your hand; if you need that, you’re in the wrong job. But I can see your potential, and I’ll be having a chat with you now and then, just to see how you’re doing.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”
Boyce nodded. “Gentlemen, I’ll leave you to it.” He took a sip of his tea and then marched across the room, disappearing into a corner office and closing the door firmly.
Chisholm strolled over to his own large desk at the far end of the room, then he shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it on the back of his chair.
“First things first, Tim,” Chisholm said. “Milk and two, and leave the bag in. I can’t stand weak tea in the mornings.” He sat down and frowned at Spiller. “When you’re ready, in your own time.”
“Sorry, sir. I’ll get right on it.” As quickly as he could, Spiller made a mug of tea. He’d kept a keen eye on Boyce earlier, so he found everything he needed without difficulty. But when he splashed milk on the counter, he searched in vain for something to mop it up.
“Leave it,” Chisholm called out. “You can get a paper towel from the loo later. Bring my tea over, will you? I’ve got a tongue like the bottom of a budgie cage.”
Mumbling an apology, Spiller hurried over to Chisholm’s desk. He felt the colour rising to his cheeks, but Chisholm didn’t seem to notice. He was rifling through the stacks of cardboard folders cluttering his desk.
“Pull up a pew,” Chisholm said. “Any one will do, but that purple one is good.”
Spiller hesitated. The only purple chair in the office was noticeably newer and smarter than the others, its upholstery pristine.
“Go on,” Chisholm went on. “I haven’t got all day.”
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Spiller grabbed the chair and sat beside Chisholm, leaning forward, ready to absorb the gems of information that were surely about to come his way.
“Let’s crack on,” Chisholm began. “This is my desk, and it’s where I’m to be found. If you need anything, come and ask. I could have an office of my own, but I politely declined. I want to be here, where I can see what’s going on, and I won’t stand for any monkeying about. Save that for the pub after work. You are coming out for a drink tonight, aren’t you? First day and all that.”
“Thank you, sir, but—”
“Guv,” Chisholm interrupted. “Call me guv or guvnor, I’m not fussy. DCS Boyce likes to be a bit more formal, but that’s his prerogative. Out here, we’re all in the trenches together. But you’re not trying to wriggle out of a drink tonight, are you?”
Spiller adjusted his position on the chair. “I appreciate the invitation, but my wife’s expecting me home for dinner.”
“It’s your loss, but don’t make a habit of turning us down. I want to see you fitting in, Tim. It’s good to chew the fat, especially after a crappy day, and there are plenty of those. But let’s not dwell on that. Where are you from, Tim?”
“Telford, guv.”
“Ah, I thought you were from somewhere up there. You sound like a Brummy.”
“It’s not far from Birmingham.”
“I know, Tim. I know. You were in uniform up there, yes?”
“That’s right, guv, but CID is always where I wanted to be.”
“Not a university lad, then?”
Spiller shook his head. “My parents wanted me to go to college. I tried business studies. They run a shop you see, and—”
“I don’t need your whole life story. You’re here, and that’s good enough for me. Welcome to CID.”
“Thank you, guv. I’ll do my best to hit the ground running.”
“You’re damned right, you will.” Chisholm clapped his hands together. “Moving on, let’s get your induction over with. First, health and safety. In the event of a fire, I advise you to leave the building. You’ll know there’s a fire on account of all the smoke and flames and such, but what you won’t hear is the ringing of bells. The alarm in here doesn’t work for some reason, which is just as well, as some of us like to have a fag now and then without sloping off to the outside world. Do you smoke, Tim?”
Spiller shook his head firmly.
“Just as well, Boyce does not approve.”
“Me neither,” Spiller said. “But the smoke alarm, if it’s broken, isn’t that—?”
“Dangerous?” Chisholm interrupted. “Maybe, but if you want a safe job, go and work in a…” Chisholm waved a hand in the air. “Forget that, nowhere’s safe these days. We dealt with a bloke last year, stabbed. He was a lecturer. Teacher training. Knifed by a disgruntled student.” Chisholm puffed out his cheeks and exhaled. “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? What chance do the kids have when the only people who might actually want to be teachers are unhinged?”
Before Spiller could reply, the door opened and a group of three men walked in, chatting. Spying Spiller, they exchanged fleeting glances with each other before greeting Chisholm.
“Gather round, lads,” Chisholm called out, and the trio assembled around Chisholm’s desk.
“Lads, this is our new DC, Tim Spiller.” Gesturing to each of the new arrivals in turn, Chisholm added, “In no particular order, DC Adrian Cove, DI Oliver Nicholson and DS Patrick Reilly. A merry band known to all as Ade, Ollie and Paddy. Got it?”
“Yes, guv,” Spiller replied. “Good to meet you all. Is Detective Chief Inspector Wendell not in today?”
A murmur ran around the group.
“Brian will not be gracing us with his presence today,” DS Reilly said. “The DCI has been unavoidably detained.”
Given Reilly’s name, Spiller had expected an Irish accent, so it was strange to hear the flat northern vowels of a Yorkshireman. A good few years older than Spiller, and sporting a thick moustache, Reilly had a hangdog expression and a relaxed posture that somehow made his suit seem scruffy. But he had a friendly twinkle in his eye, and Spiller warmed to the man.
Standing next to Reilly, DI Nicholson had the look of a harassed middle manager. Clean-shaven, his cheeks pale and slightly saggy, he wore a V-necked pullover beneath his jacket.
Glancing nervously at the others, Nicholson said, “The DCI has been suspended pending the investigation of an allegation.”
“A bullshit allegation,” Chisholm snapped. “He’s been made a scapegoat, pure and simple. It’s total madness, is what it is, and it leaves us short-handed. That means you’ll have to get stuck in Tim. In at the deep end, sink or swim.”
——
That’s the end of this snippet, though the chapter is quite a bit longer.
I hope you’re looking forward to it as much I’m looking forward to sharing it with you.
Happy reading!
