It was time to have some fun while we holidayed in Somerset this week.
Based in the beautiful city of Wells, with its magnificent cathedral, it was time to relax and escape the twin evils of work and routine. It’s impossible to completely escape when you need to research a scene for the next novel, No Bodies.
During the investigation into three missing wives, Kent tracks down a mobile caterer to Glastonbury and drives down there to interview him on a Friday evening. Naturally, things go wrong and the caterer flees, running through the back streets of the town to escape. Having plotted a route based on my knowledge of the town and Google Street maps, I wanted to check and take photographs.
It turned out to be quite different, but I now have some first-hand knowledge, photographs and a sense of distance to make the scene more authentic.
Then it was time for some fun with ‘Kent and Columbo on tour’ photographs.
Armed with my No Accident postcard, Harvey and I posed for photographs, which I posted on Facebook each day, along with a snappy strapline. My favourite was the visit to Caen Hill locks, a wonderful feat of
engineering near Devizes in Wiltshire, where the canal ascends the hill.
I also started reading Robert Thorogood’s novel, A Meditation on Murder, based on his TV Series, Death in Paradise. While it helps if you like the show, it’s not essential to
enjoy the story. Filled with interesting characters and a murder that would baffle Columbo and Sherlock Holmes combined, this is a joyous read, laced with humour.
I’m enjoying A Meditation on Murder much more than the serial killer police procedurals and
psychological thrillers I’ve read of late. In fact, most of the crime novels I’ve read lack humour. This is a shame because police officers and those who support them – and I’ve met quite a few – have a great sense of humour. It helps to get them through the pain and misery they often witness.
I got to know a local Scenes of Crimes Officer many years ago and I used what I learned to create Kent Fisher’s friend, Mike Turner. He’s so unlucky that if he fell into a barrel of boobs, he’d come out
sucking his thumb.
There’s a short feature on Mike and his Sanity Gallery in the September issue of the Tollingdon
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