Today I am pleased to be able to participate in the blog tour for Needle Song by Russell Day. My thanks go to Emma Welton @Damppebbles Blog Tours.
About the Book
Spending the night with a beautiful woman would be a good alibi, if the body in the next room wasn't her husband.
Doc Slidesmith has a habit of knowing things he shouldn’t. He knows the woman Chris Rudjer meets online is married. He knows the adult fun she’s looking for is likely to be short lived. And when her husband’s killed, he knows Chris Rudjer didn’t do it.
Only trouble is the police disagree and no one wants to waste time investigating an open and shut case.
No one except Doc.
Using lies, blackmail and a loaded pack of Tarot cards, Doc sets about looking for the truth - but the more truth he finds, the less he thinks his friend is going to like it.
Settle down and get comfortable as I have a sneaky extract from #NeedleSongBook for you to tempt you even further.
The car stank of old food and someone who’d only just stopped being a teenager. I gave the guy behind the wheel my best don’t-fuck-with-me look. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times but nothing came out. He found his voice as Doc opened the rear door and climbed in.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He did his best to sound outraged. He didn’t do it very well.
“That’s what we’re asking you,” Doc told him. I could hear him smiling. This, more than the situation, made me angry again. I wasn’t seeing the humour in any of this. “Now, why are you following my friend Jan?”
“I got no idea what you’re talking about.” He was trying hard to keep his head still, trying to keep contact with Doc. Doing what he could to appear sincere. There was one of Doc’s silences but it drew out nothing useful, the guy just repeated himself, “I don’t know what you mean, I got no idea.”
“You just followed us around an empty industrial estate, twice, then down a dead-end.” Doc shifted on the back seat, moved into the driver’s personal space. “Why? Looking for some dogging action?”
The driver giggled, either nerves or an attempt to ingratiate himself. The silence in the car swallowed the sound whole.
“Why are you following Jan Keller?” Doc asked again.
The driver let out a sigh, he sounded tired. Worn out tired, not bored. Doc was right about back to back twelve-hour shifts, they’re a killer. Ask any nurse.
“I’m being paid to. Someone wants to know what she gets up to, that’s all I can say.”
We waited but nothing else was forth coming.
Doc said, “Who’s paying you?”
In the gloom, I saw the outline of the driver’s head shake.
“I’m not saying anything else. More than my job’s worth.”
I felt something inside me shift. The anger had been there all day, since I’d seen Middle Age Gut snooping with his mobile, but it had been aimless. Now it changed, became pointed. I reached up to the roof light of the car and switched it on. The driver watched me. He was still nervous, but now he had an air of defiance to him. Maybe deciding the line he was going to take had made him feel in control.
I reached into a pocket of my leather, pulled out the Stanley knife. I held it in front of me to make sure he’d seen it then thumbed the blade open and thrust it toward him. He jerked away and came to a stop pressed hard against the door pillar, then jammed his head back into the seat rest as far as he could. He wound up with nowhere to go and the tip of the blade just under the angle of his jaw. His head was craned back so he was looking straight up to heaven. Eyes wide.
“Jesus Christ,” he squeaked.
We waited a moment. Jesus didn’t show, so we carried on without him.
Wow what a sneaky peak and if you are anything like me, I now need to know what happens next!! If the above has tempted you, the links are below to enable you to buy from Amazon or the publishers Fahrenheit Press.
About the Author
Russell Day was born in 1966 and grew up in Harlesden, NW10 – a geographic region searching for an alibi. From an early age it was clear the only things he cared about were motorcycles, tattoos and writing. At a later stage he added family life to his list of interests and now lives with his wife and two children. He’s still in London, but has moved south of the river for the milder climate.
Although he only writes crime fiction Russ doesn’t consider his work restricted. ‘As long as there have been people there has been crime, as long as there are people there will be crime.’ That attitude leaves a lot of scope for settings and characters. One of the first short stories he had published, The Second Rat and the Automatic Nun, was a double-cross story set in a world where the church had taken over policing. In his first novel, Needle Song, an amateur detective employs logic, psychology and a loaded pack of tarot cards to investigate a death.
Russ often tells people he seldom smiles due to nerve damage, sustained when his jaw was broken. In fact, this is a total fabrication and his family will tell you he’s has always been a miserable bastard.
Social Media Links
Check out the rest of the blog tour with these fabulous blogs: