Blog Tour- Death On Dartmoor - 26/6/18
Book spotlight
Death On Dartmoor
by Bernie Steadman
On my blog today I have the pleasure of sharing with you......
Death On Dartmoor.
I would like to thank Sarah Hardy from Bloodhound books and Bernie Steadman for inviting me on the blog tour.
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Book Information
Life is good for DI Dan Hellier until the discovery of two headless, handless bodies buried in a bog on Dartmoor. But how can he identify the victims when nobody has reported them missing?
The tension mounts when the death of a young man plunges Hellier into the murky world of the Garrett family. Could the peaceful, family-run Animal Rescue Centre really be a cover for murder and other criminal activity?
Hellier is about to learn just how far people will go to get what they want.
And this investigation will challenge Hellier’s decisions as he races to catch another murderer before it’s too late.
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Sneak Peek Extract
Chapter 1
Crouched behind a hawthorn hedge in full bloom, in the early June moonlight, all Detective Inspector Dan Hellier could hear was the rapid breathing and fidgeting of trainee Detective Constable Adam Foster. Dan held his hand in up in front of Foster’s face. ‘Wait, Foster. Be still.’ He glanced at the rest of the team, calm and unruffled, and wished Foster was somewhere else.
In his ear, Detective Sergeant Duncan Lake gave instructions to his armed response unit. They had the battering ram and the bolt cutters ready to go.
Dan scanned the lane leading down to the abandoned waterside warehouse. All was quiet. Three filthy white vans were parked outside tall doors which were locked, chained and bolted. Above his head, a makeshift set of wires stole electricity from the grid. Shafts of yellow light escaped through cracks and fissures in the old wood, and the unmistakeable smell of thousands of marijuana plants made the air heavy. He blinked and shook his head. The combination of weed and hawthorn flower was sending him to sleep.
Using heat-sensitive cameras, the force helicopter had made several passes earlier in the day. The crop had glowed orange under huge heat lamps. Four life-signs had been busy in different parts of the building, no obvious booby-traps had been spotted.
Dan yawned, cracking his jaw painfully. This was his second drugs raid in as many nights. The chief constable was on a mission, and everybody was suffering.
Into the quiet hiss of his earpiece, DS Lake gave the ‘go’ signal. Dan held his arm out in front of his team, just in case anybody got a bit carried away and wanted to join in.
Six armed officers moved silently to the doors. Bolt cutters made swift work of the chains. The first crash from the battering ram echoed around the river basin, disturbing a flock of seabirds. The second crash started the men inside running. Lake shouted from the doorway, ‘Armed police! Stand still. Do not move.’ He nodded at his team and they entered the warehouse at a run.
Outside, in the still air, Dan could hear his heart beating an irregular rhythm as he waited for the all clear. As the thought formed, he heard the rattle of gunfire from an automatic weapon inside the warehouse. Beside him, Foster drew in a sharp breath. Intel had warned them to be armed; the gang running the marijuana factory was down from London and the news from the Met had all been bad.
Lake sent the ‘man down’ message and requested paramedics. Dan winced. Bad news.
A return pair of shots echoed round the river basin. A lone scream and then only the peculiar silence that follows a shooting. Suspect dead, then. Idiot. Dan made himself breathe again and rolled his shoulders. The wait for Lake to tell him about the downed officer was hard. He wondered who it was, whether he was dead or just injured, and thought of the paperwork, and the investigation that would land on Lake’s desk, and the family of the officer, who lived with the fear of such an event.
A telltale squeal of un-oiled hinges announced the departure of some of the gang from the warehouse heading down towards the water. There should have been a man on that door. Dan watched two men running low and fast towards the water. The need to be up and doing something was making him jittery. He shuffled and flexed his knees, bringing back the pain in his healing left foot. ‘Two suspects making off towards the river,’ he said into his radio, and trusted that DS Sally Ellis was ready on the river with her coastguards. Three down…
A side door flew open and a fourth man ran straight towards the trees where Dan and his team waited. Where was the man on that door? He spotted an armed officer from Lake’s team in fast pursuit, blood dripping from a hand injury. The gang member carried a long sword, of all things.
Dan had to make a fast decision. There was no point hiding now. Any second the dealer would stumble into them and he could do serious damage with that sword. Dan leapt up, waving his arms and yelled, ‘Stop! Put down your weapon and stand still.’ He directed his flashlight straight into the man’s face, blinding him for a second.
The armed officer ran up behind and slapped both hands around the man’s head, hard against his ears. In shock the man dropped the sword and screamed. The officer took him to the floor and cuffed him, nodding his thanks to Dan.
Lake radioed to his team, and gave the all clear a few minutes later. Dan, heart still pumping, led his team out to the front of the building. Effective technique, bursting someone’s eardrums. He must remember that.
They couldn’t go much further than the front door until forensics had cleared it, so he set his team to guarding the extremities. The dead dealer lay in the middle of a corridor of cannabis plants that must have been two meters high. There were at least another dozen rows of plants in there. The heat, intensified by silver foil reflecting it back from the walls, made it unbearable. Dan moved back to a safer distance. They’d have to wait until the doctor and forensics had finished before they could catalogue the contents of the warehouse. He sighed. Another long night. The phone call to ask for support took mere seconds, but how long they would have to wait for someone to come out was anyone’s guess.
Even from the door, the smell threatened to overwhelm him. Dan could feel his reactions slowing. He hated cannabis, hated it. Had done ever since his eighteenth birthday when some kind person had spiked his birthday cake with skunk. The hallucinations and paranoia that followed made it a very long, unpleasant night, and he could no longer even smell the drug without feeling sick. Aversion therapy had certainly worked on him.
Sally Ellis radioed in a few minutes later; ‘Got them, boss,’ she said, ‘not much fight in ’em.’
Duncan Lake strode out of the warehouse and stood next to Dan, thumbs in his belt. ‘Look at the size of this operation.’ He held his arms wide and took in a deep breath.
Dan worried for a moment that he was going to launch into a song. Or an aria.
‘I reckon this lot would be worth millions on the street,’ Lake grinned. ‘That’ll look good on your nick’s statistics, Dan.’
Dan grinned back. ‘Too right. A good night apart from the casualties.’
‘Our man will be fine; his vest took the brunt of the shots, and I’m not going to lose any sleep over one dead drug dealer.’ He gave a high whistle, which brought his team running to stand next to him. ‘Right, building is secure. Over to you, Detective Inspector. At least we don’t have to clear this lot out before we go home.’
‘Yeah, yeah, back to saving the world for you; clearing up other people’s crap for us.’
‘At least you haven’t got Police Complaints to worry about. More paperwork than you can shake a stick at, and for what? A low-life drug dealer.’ He turned on his heel and departed.
‘Thanks, Duncan,’ Dan called after Lake’s retreating team. A long night indeed, but a bloody good one. He rang the specialist removal team, on standby at Exeter Road station, and told them to have another coffee.
Left alone he wandered out into the clear night and took several deep breaths. The operation had gone well, but he was tired. Two night shifts in one week wasn’t nice. He smiled. Listen to yourself, Hellier. Not that long ago, night shift was what you did, over and over, week in, week out. Getting soft.
He listened to young Adam Foster’s voice coming loud from the river, commenting on the heat, and the smell roiling out of the warehouse. Foster was a bit too impulsive for a DC; it was like holding back a spaniel on the scent of a cat. He had to be aware of Foster all the time. Pain in the neck when they were so busy. Maybe a couple of weeks at another station would sort him out and calm him down. He’d get Sally onto it tomorrow.
Dan called in the result to HQ as the ambulance and crime scene van arrived. There was little need to rush. It was close to midnight and they had a crime scene to investigate, and a warehouse full of marijuana to dispose of before they could go to bed.
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Author Bio
Bernie taught English for many years but only dabbled in short fiction and poetry until a few years ago when she took to writing full-time. She completed her debut novel, Death in the Woods when she escaped the classroom and could finally stop marking essays. This was the first in the West Country Mysteries series featuring DI Dan Hellier and his Exeter-based team. There are now three in the series, Death on Dartmoor and Death on the Coast completing the series.
Bernie lives in a small village in East Devon and her novels are set in and around the ancient Roman city of Exeter, which has seen its fair share of murder and mayhem over the centuries. The books explore the beauty of the area, but demonstrate that even in the most charming of settings, terrible events may occur.
When not glued to the laptop, Bernie is a keen yoga fan and enjoys walking and cycling in the Devon countryside with her husband. They share their home with two large, black cats which came from the animal sanctuary where she is a volunteer and trustee.
Links:
@BernieSteadman
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