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 WINTER'S TALE by Geoffrey Lewis |
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| A young man is dead, shot down outside a nightclub. All the evidence points to his girlfriend, his murder the result of a lovers' quarrel. But D.I. David Russell is uncomfortable with this conclusion. As he delves into the man's background, and the circumstances surrounding his death, he is led into a shady world of drugs and prostitution, until the ripples of a seemingly simple crime overlap with those of a covert international operation. But the answer, when it comes, is surprisingly close to home... The third of Geoffrey Lewis's D.I. David Russell novels follows a rather different course from that of his first two stories. In Winter's Tale, we find something much closer to an Agatha Christie style 'who-dun-it'; the obvious suspect, while faced with overwhelming weight of evidence against her, does not satisfy Russell's sense of truth or justice. Tiny anomalies in the evidence and his assessment of her character lead him to to keep digging into the case, despite the lack of any other possible suspect; slowly the investigation uncovers not one but two separate criminal operations, until the man behind a local small-time crime empire is taken down and an international drugs ring is revealed. But at last, when the motive for the man's murder is uncovered, it takes everyone, especially D.S. Doug Rimmer, by surprise. As always in Geoffrey Lewis's writing, the tension builds gradually, in this case as the reader follows David Russell's frustrating efforts to avoid a miscarriage of justice and the separation of a mother from her nine-year-old daughter. The children, including Russell's own family, again play a part in the background of the story, providing some of the most emotive moments of the narrative. Tensions within his family, revolving around his now teenage son, form a running sub-plot which serves to distract him from time to time and affect his concentration on his job - this too reaches a dramatic conclusion in the book's closing chapters. Once more, in traditional Geoffrey Lewis fashion, the ending is comfortingly up-beat. WINTER'S TALE sample chapter: '"Roddie! Wait! I've got to talk to you!" Rod McKeenan turned with a resigned sigh as Lucy Cavendish ran up behind him; it was late, he had some business to attend to and the last thing he needed was another confrontation with her. "Roddie - please - let's talk about things, can't we?" She'd followed him from the dowstairs bar, caught up with him in the back corridor; now, she took him by the arm and made him face her. "There's nothin' to talk aboat, Luce. Ah toald ye on Sonday, it's all oaver - whatever we had, it's all funushed." His Belfast accent made itself known, as it often did when he felt stressed. "You can't say that! You can't just write off three years of our lives - not just like that, after all we've been to each other!" By contrast, Lucy betrayed the clipped tones of her boarding-school education. "Ah can - Ah have to." He shook his head: "Mebbe Ah did love ye, at the start - but no moare. Ye'll find yersel' someone else, someone better, in no time at all, you'll see." "I don't want anyone else, can't you see that? I love you, you stupid Irish bastard!" McKeenan shook his head again, making his long wavy dark hair bounce on his shoulders: "No ye doan't, Luce. Ut's all in yer mind - ye'll soon forget me, if ye'll just let me be gone." "I won't, Roddie! And what about Freya? She worships you, you know she does - how can you do this to her?" At this McKeenan rounded on her angrily: "Now doan't troy that on me, Lucy! She's a crackin' kid, for sure, but she isn't mine, so doan't pull the oald guilt thing on me! Now," He pushed her away, gently but firmly, "I've got business te be dealin' with, outside, all right?" Lucy stared after him as he turned and hurried away towards the door which opened into the back-alley behind the nightclub. He disappeared into the cold dark night; a cold empty feeling grew in her chest as if her heart had left the building with him; she fled into the ladies toilet, tears of pain and frustration burning behind her eyes. At the handbasin, she spun the cold tap on, practically ripping it from its mounting as anger swelled in her, adding even more confusion to her mixed-up feelings. She splashed the ice-cold water in her face, shook her head as it ran from her chin and stood gazing at her reflection in the mirror. The bastard! How could he just turn his back on her, after more than three years together? The image of her gun rose in her mind, the little handbag sized automatic Roddie'd acquired for her in the interests of self-protection after that bastard of a client had beaten her up a year or two ago - but whether the urge was to use it on him or on herself, she was too confused to know. She closed her eyes, let her head fall forward to hang between her shoulders - either way, she knew as her flare of fury cooled, she wouldn't, couldn't, do it. Her mother's instincts took over: The protection of her child was the most important thing of all and she would be no good to Freya if she was in the ground, or in jail for murder. Anyway, it was in her bag, in the hostess's changing room along the corridor. She raised her head again, to look herself in the eye through the mirror. So - if it was all over? You're not a bad-looking gal, even if you are getting on! She tossed her head, watching her long, wavy auburn hair bounce, looked again into her dark green eyes: You'll do, kiddo! And twenty-six isn't that old, after all.. But even as she thought it, she knew the bravado was hollow, that she would take a long time to get over Roddie - they'd been so close, seemed so right for each other... How could it all be finished? As she stood contemplating the collapse of her life, she became aware of background kerfuffling. A few loud thumps - then the sound of voices in the corridor beyond her temporary world, voices raised in... what? Anger? No, shock, distress - what was going on? She roused herself, quickly towelled her face, shook her hair into place and opened the door. Emerging into the corridor, she was confronted with a scene of confusion to match that which reigned in her head. Suddenly, one of the other hostesses grabbed her, pinned her by both arms against the wall: "Stay here, Luce! Don't go out there!" "What? What is it, Elsa, what's going on?! The other girl held her firmly, gazing into her eyes, shocked blue looking into her puzzled green: "I don't know, not really, but... It's Rod, Lucy; he's been hurt." "What! Let me go, I must go and help him! Elsa! Let go of me!" But the blond girl held on, shook her head, the shock in her face turning to pain: "You can't help, Luce - I... I think he's dead." Her voice was no more than a whisper. Lucy stared at her for a moment, shaking her head, her mouth forming a silent "No!"; then she broke loose, fought her way through the crowd of bodies blocking her way, out into the alley, to fall on her knees beside the prone figure of her lover, sliding one arm beneath his head, feeling the limp unresponsiveness of him, taking in as if in a trance the blood-stained shirt. "Roddie, Roddie, Roddie..." His murmured name became a dirge as she held him to her chest, her tears falling unheeded on his upturned face.' AVAILABILITY:
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 WINTER'S TALE by Geoffrey Lewis paperback £6.99 ISBN 0-9545624-2-9 published by SGM Publishing |
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Links: Homepage SGM Publishing Geoffrey Lewis biography 'Flashback' 'Strangers' 'Winter's Tale' 'Cycle' 'Starlight' 'A Boy Off the Bank' 'A Girl At the Tiller' Order Form |
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