Tuesday, 2 May 2017

Bad To The Bone by @TonyJForder #BlogTour @Bloodhoundbook

A skeletal body is unearthed in a wooded area of Peterborough, Cambridgeshire. DI James Bliss, together with DC Penny Chandler, investigate the case and discover that the young, female victim had been relocated from its original burial site.

A witness is convinced that a young female was struck by a vehicle back in the summer of 1990, and that police attended the scene. However, no record exists of either the accident or the reported victim. As the case develops, two retired police officers are murdered. The two are linked with others who were on duty at the time a road accident was reported.

As Bliss and Chandler delve deeper into the investigation, they start to question whether senior officers may have been involved in the murder of the young women who was buried in the woods.

As each link in the chain is put under duress, so is Bliss who clashes with superiors and the media.

When his team receives targeted warnings, Bliss will need to decide whether to drop the case or to pursue those responsible.

Will Bliss walk away in order to keep his career intact or will he fight no matter what the cost?

And is it possible the killer is much closer than they imagined?


Author Bio:

On 1st February 2017, Tony signed to Bloodhound Books, who will publish his new edgy crime thriller Bad to the Bone this spring. It is the first in a series.
Later this year, Tony's second novel for Bloodhound Books, Degrees of Darkness, featuring ex-detective Frank Rogers, will be published.

Tony has been writing stories since childhood, but it was only when he won a short story competition judged by an editor from Pan Books, that he realised he might actually be half decent at this writing business.

The story, Gino's Bar and Grille, went on to be published in Dark Voices 2, part of the celebrated Pan Book of Horror series. Three further short story sales followed: Book End, published in Dark Voices 4, Character Role, in FEAR magazine, and finally A Grim Story, which featured in A Rattler's Tale.

During a book singing for Dark Voices 2, Tony was seated next to author Brian Lumley. At one point, Tony revealed to Brian that he felt out of place alongside all the proper writers. Brian then told Tony something he has never forgotten: "The moment you sat down and pulled a story out of your imagination and put it to paper, you became a proper writer."

Subsequently, Tony began to focus on novel writing. He admits that his initial attempts were exploratory and somewhat derivative, although there was some interest from an agent – who oddly enough turned out to be Brian Lumley's wife, Dorothy.

Tony wrote Degrees of Darkness, which he was happy with. He wasn't so happy with a follow-up, so that never saw the light of day.

As a part-time writer with a full-time job, plus some ill-health, life got in the way and, although Tony continued writing, it took a back seat to making a living.

This year, however, Tony has been inspired by new ideas, and has been working hard on two new books, both of which should be completed in 2017. In the meantime, he hopes you enjoy Bad to the Bone, introducing DI James Bliss and DC Penny Chandler.

Links:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Tony-J-Forder/e/B01N4BPT65/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1490529612&sr=8-1-spell

https://www.facebook.com/tonyjforder/?fref=ts

https://twitter.com/TonyJForder?lang=en-gb
Read an excerpt from Chapter 1 of Bad to the Bone

It didn’t look much like a corpse. Other than the skull, of course. That was a bit of a giveaway. The bones themselves, clumps of moist soil clinging to them like leeches, looked more like an array of dead branches and twigs than the remains of a human being. In the end, thought Detective Inspector James Bliss, a person doesn’t amount to much.

*

Bliss began to feel like an intruder, quenching a voyeuristic thirst on someone else’s misery. He shook off the feeling, reminding himself that emotions could only hamper the investigation that was about to begin.

‘You think it’s a bit late to consider CPR?’ he asked, glancing to his right.

Detective Constable Penny Chandler shook her head and grinned. ‘You could try. I bet you’ve jumped bones with less life in them.’

Bliss chuckled and nodded, turning his attention to the body once more. Twenty-three years in the job, two decades of which were spent in the Met, had inured him against such sights. He recalled his first dead body, an almost mummified male held together by ragged strips of cloth. It had been discovered in a dank Hackney basement after a neighbour had complained about the stench coming from the house next door. Bliss had just knelt down next to the corpse when its chest began to stir. Horror-stricken, he had immediately reared back, falling on his arse, eyes unable to turn from the pulsating series of movements. The stark image of a slime-covered creature erupting from John Hurt’s body in the movie Alien flashed through his mind. But that was swiftly eradicated when, in an eruption of clothing and petrified flesh, a huge rat burst out of the corpse’s ribcage. Bliss swore that rodent had taken a long, contemptuous glance in his direction before scuttling away.

There had been many corpses since.

Too many.

*
Hunkered down on the edge of the burial site, Bliss played his torch over the scene, the light bright and steady. Mounds of loose soil enveloped the carcass, tossed away casually by eager, excited fingers. Small footprints embossed in flattened patches of earth suggested a frenzied dig. Odd. Or was it? These were young boys, after all. And even though he sometimes felt as old as the dirt now beneath his feet, Bliss could well imagine the thrill those lads had experienced. It would have been intoxicating.

*

‘I had no idea you were such an expert.’

‘It’s called reading, Constable. You should try it some time.’

*

Bliss studied her face for a moment. A breeze caught the folds of his overcoat, flapping them around his knees as if they were being pawed at by playful puppies. He smiled at the look of challenge in the DC’s eyes.

*

They both peered cheerlessly down into the grave one last time, and then Bliss snapped the torch off with a flick of his thumb. The little remaining natural light fringed the area, as if reluctant to trespass upon this place of death.



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