With shelves stuffed with crime fiction, how could I create something fresh?
When it came, the answer was simple. But I took a few wrong turns before I found it.
The idea of an ordinary person solving murders appealed to me. No police, no forensics, no DNA or computer databases. Just a man, his instincts, intellect, and creativity.
But someone who could handle himself in a crisis.
The possibilities ranged from a black belt in karate, a nightclub bouncer, to a former paratrooper.
I couldn’t wait to write this contemporary crime novel with my ‘ordinary’ private detective.
The pages flowed. My detective tackled every challenge with relentless determination. He didn’t outsmart his suspects. He swept them aside, kicking in doors and making threats. Subtlety flew out of the window.
About halfway through the first draft, I stalled. Reading it back, I made a surprising discovery.
My ordinary detective was more Rambo than Columbo.
So much for using instinct, intellect and creativity. What happened to my unassuming role model in the scruffy raincoat?
Despondent and annoyed with myself for not seeing it sooner, I set the draft aside.
Then, one sunny day, as I drove across my picturesque South Downs district, the answer struck me so hard I nearly veered off the road.
I knew the ordinary person who could handle conflict and solve complex puzzles.
He was sitting in a car at the side of the road, staring at the gentle hills, wondering where he might hide a body.
It took me a moment to realise I wasn’t just the writer.
I was the man in the car.
For a moment, I sat there, staring ahead, aware of the feverish excitement in my mind. The calm, practical part of me told me not to get excited.
How could an environmental health officer (EHO) solve murders?
People didn’t call into the town hall, ask to see an EHO and report a murder. We dealt with food hygiene, infectious diseases, and health and safety in the workplace.
But no one had written a crime story featuring an environmental health detective, had they?
Ideas bombarded me with possibilities and story ideas. I stopped at a nearby tearoom and frantically scribbled in my notebook. If my boss ever looked at it, he’d think I was about to kill half the chefs in my district.
With my head buzzing with murder, I don’t know how I made it through the rest of the working day.
When at last I made it home, I charged upstairs, grabbed a notepad and started writing.
But as the days passed, doubt crept in.
Maybe there was a reason no one had thought of an environmental health sleuth before.
But my experience told me an EHO had the qualities needed to solve murders.
How many times had I tackled complex problems, like tracing the source of a food poisoning outbreak? Or a workplace fatality, where employers tried to shift the blame.
Witnesses had to be coaxed out of silence. Lies had to be uncovered and exposed by evidence.
Instinct and observation played their part. Sometimes chefs can be too helpful. Or they cast surreptitious glances at something they don’t want me to check. They hesitate before answering.
A closer look beneath a cooker often exposes a lack of deep cleaning. Training records may not exist.
Some people think they can bully and intimidate, threatening to report me to the media, my local councillor or MP. One chef threatened me with a meat cleaver. Experience taught me how to calm them, listen to their concerns, and often allay their fears.
When it came to the meat cleaver, I showed a clean pair of heels to get out of danger.
EHOs also work with public authorities like the police, fire and rescue, social services, planning and local business groups. Over the years, I got to know many business owners. They often talked to me as a friend, revealing details and issues about other businesses. These relationships were priceless and an enormous help when problems arose in the community.
Aren’t these the qualities, skills, and contacts a sleuth needs?
I stopped trying to invent a detective and started writing one I understood.
Not a hero who forces the truth out of people, but one who lets it reveal itself.
Not Rambo. Not Columbo.
An environmental health officer, quietly uncovering things people would rather keep hidden.