If you’ve followed this blog, you’ll be aware that I mix personal interest with purely food and culinary content. One of my hobbies is writing and my fifth book called ‘On Whom The Axe Falls’ has been released. Here’s a bit about it.

On Whom the Axe Falls – ‘The Island Connection 3’

‘On Whom the Axe Falls’ takes a look at what happens when two people with diametrically opposed views are both suspected of murder. Either one could be the killer. Both have the motive and the means and neither man is apologetic for his stance. Meanwhile, one of our regular characters is being stalked by an old antagonist whilst another old friend suddenly discovers romance and finds that there’s magic in the air. Nothing is ever quite what it seems on the Isle of Man!

ON WHOM THE AXE FALLS – OPENING PAGES

When he left his cottage to pick a few vegetables from his garden, Reverend Aloicius Quayle hadn’t intended lying face down on the cold earth with the morning sun on the back of his head and a vine of runner beans crushed under his chest; but then he probably hadn’t intended to have a twenty centimetre bone handled brushed stainless steel Laguiole knife stuck in his lower back either.

The Reverend had been a good, pious man, his widow explained to Detective Inspector Angus Slooth. Aloicius was devout, devoted and divine, she had sobbed, blowing her nose into a handkerchief embroidered round the edges with pixies and fairies.

Angus Slooth nodded solemnly as Widow Quayle expounded her opinion of the rectitude and righteousness of the man of God who, until an hour ago, had been her faithful husband. Angus and Detective Constable Sarah Flemons had already run through all the normal questions about Aloicius Quayle’s actions prior to leaving the safety of his house, and they had, though probably quite unnecessarily, ticked all the boxes regarding Marjory Quayle’s whereabouts and motives, though it never did any harm to double check these things, particularly when your only witness was a lady who was clearly in the early stages of dementia – or at least severe age-related forgetfulness.

Another excellent addition to ‘The Manx Connection’ series
By mousyb on 21 Aug. 2016
Book 5 of ‘The Manx Connection’ is located on The Isle of Man (as are most of the series). It features some of the characters (DI Angus Slooth and DC Sarah Flemons) who have appeared in earlier books in the series, but each book is stand alone.
The storyline of ‘On whom the axe falls’ is one of murders motivated by religion. In this story, Angus Slooth and Sarah Flemons struggle to solve the clues that are liberally sprinkled about.
It is also a book full of surprises, not the least of which is when Angus meets … oh no – I can’t tell you otherwise it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?
Apart from being an action-packed mystery, Graham Hamer uses the plot to explore the effects of religious extremism in a small island community. Of course, as an author, many of his own views are expressed, but that’s his prerogative and it doesn’t detract from the story. In fact, in many ways, it becomes the driving force for the storyline and few would disagree with his conclusions.
Another excellent addition to ‘The Manx Connection’ series. Can’t wait to get my hands on the next one.   

If you’ve followed this blog, you’ll be aware that I mix personal interest with purely food and culinary content. One of my hobbies is writing and my fourth book called ‘Out of the Window‘ has just been released. Here’s a bit about it.

Out of the Window ‘The Island Connection 2’

In ‘Under the Rock‘, the first book of The Island Connection series, we met a couple of young girls whose actions helped save the day when the island was under threat. In ‘Out of the Window’, we meet the same two girls again, two years later. Still a bit crazy, but growing up fast. They make a new friend whose life is in danger. But what can they do against battle-hardened thugs?

And what really happened in Amy’s bedroom the night her father went out of the window?

Out of the Window – OPENING PAGES

Amy’s teeth chattered as the glacial drizzle showed no signs of letting up. It was one of those cold, miserable, penetrating, grey, non-stop drizzles that soaks through meagre clothing and slowly annihilates a person’s confidence. With no signs of any customers, the harbour-side hot food kiosk had closed early and Amy had taken the opportunity to rifle through their bins, where she found some stale burger buns that would keep her going until tomorrow. Head bent low, she tore strips off the first bun and chewed ravenously while she huddled and shuffled her way past the lifeboat station. She looked up as a large seagull squawked and dived towards her, trying to take the bun from her hands. The damn things were like Exocet missiles over here but Amy was too fast because her need was too great to allow a bird to take her only meal of the day. She whipped the bread inside her saturated fleece and walked faster with the harbour on her left and the castle walls on her right.

One hundred metres further, she reached the granite stairs that gave access to Peel castle. The steep stone steps leading up to the entry portal were sheltered by overhead slabs of grey granite. She was still buffeted by the wind, but at least it was dry and Amy looked up with tired liquid-green eyes, grateful just for a small amount of respite. In a few more minutes, she would be a little drier and a little warmer and, eventually, the shivering would stop, but she still had to force her aching legs to mount every step. It was going to be another wretched night on a hard tiled floor, but what other choice did she have? At least the rain disguised her tears of anger and frustration.

She hauled her tired body up the wide stone steps until she reached the locked gate at the top. Peel castle, on the Isle of Man, was not scaled like a simple Norman castle with a keep and a moat round the outside. Peel castle sat on an islet attached to the main island by a one hundred metre long causeway. It had high granite walls and stretched for almost twenty acres. For summer visitors it represented a way to pass a pleasant afternoon in a gentle ramble, poking their heads into the various nooks and crannies. But the castle remained closed for five months in the winter. And, on a wet early December afternoon, it was the perfect hideaway for somebody who didn’t want to be found. She squeezed through the narrow gap between the unforgiving granite wall and the full height steel gate that stayed locked all winter. Luckily she was a slightly-built girl because otherwise she would never have made it through.

High inside the castle grounds, the summer visitors enjoyed a splendid view of the rolling hills to the east. But, today, there was nothing other than a dirty grey sky and more freezing rain. Amy pressed on as fast as her tired legs and wet jeans would take her until she arrived at the ladies’ washrooms. As she had discovered a few days earlier, the outer door had no lock, so she let herself in, pushed open the door to the nearest stall, and sat on the toilet. Her whole body shook with cold and she knew she needed food and warmth. She could do something about both, but not much. She pulled the burger buns from inside her wet fleece and tore at them before pushing wads of bread into her mouth. It tasted of tea leaves and cigarette ash from the inside of the bins, but ignored it as she filled her belly for the first time today. After several bites, she put her head down to the hand basin and drank water from the tap to wash down the dry bread.

Fortunately, on her first visit, Amy had found the main fuse for the washrooms and had turned on the electricity. She hit the button on the electric hand drier, grateful for the stream of warm air. Then she flicked on the light and closed the outer door. In the mirror over the hand basin, her image was etched with fatigue. She ran her hands through her wet hair to drag it away from her face.

Amy had come to the Isle of Man to try and sort things out with her aunt but had found herself the victim of a vicious verbal attack on the doorstep, with no chance of explaining her thoughts. And the verbal attack included a specific threat of a physical follow-up which, in her aunt’s own words, meant only one thing. Amy knew what her aunt was capable of and fled, in fear for her life. The fact that she was her niece would have no effect on her aunt. The only outcome that would satisfy her was Amy’s death.

An easy read that will make you smile and cry in equal measure
By mousyb on 21 Aug. 2016
Amy’s on the run from her crazy aunt. She has no money and nowhere to run to. But her luck is in when she bumps into two local teenagers who decide to ‘adopt’ her. In the space of just a few days, she discovers how different life in a small community is from the one she was used to in Liverpool. But Amy is hiding a secret that Liverpool gang leaders are willing to kill for and suddenly she is a target for more than just her vindictive aunt.
‘Out of the window’ is Amy’s story. It compares the lives of good people who simply know how to get on, with hateful people whose only pleasure is in destroying and controlling others. It’s a stand-alone story, but some of ‘The Manx Connection’ characters from earlier books help move the story along at a good pace.
There were times in the story where I laughed aloud and times in the story where I choked up. It’s just one of those books that will grip you right to the last page.

Under the Rock – ‘The Island Connection 1’

The first book I wrote, Chasing Paper, was originally written during 1999 and 2000 (with some updates in 2015). My second book, Walking on Water, though written shortly after Chasing Paper, was not finished and published until 2016 – a case of the manuscript collecting dust until circumstances dictated that I should do something with it.

Under the Rock was virtually written by the characters themselves. I’d become quite attached to some of them and they made it easy for me because they were already fully formed. With the addition of three or four new arrivals, it was easy to get a story from my friends who had occcupied the first two books in the series.

By now, you have probably already gathered that “home” for me is the Isle of Man, a little independent Crown Dependency in the middle of the Irish Sea. Much though I love being in France for six months of the year, I also revel in the the beauty and tranquillity of the Isle of Man for the other six months. It is an island full of myths and legends, gorse and heather, calm beauty gently stroking the glens and raging storms beating on the granite cliffs. Turn a corner and you’ll always discover something new to entice and amuse.

The concept of a small country that is British but not part of the United Kingdom, that has its own wholly independent parliament yet no passport controls to mainland UK, may seem a little strange to many, but those are the facts about this Crown Dependency and they make for all sorts of tantalising possibilities and opportunities if you are up to no good – and some of the new characters in Under the Rock are definitely up to no good!

UNDER THE ROCK – OPENING PAGES

Sean Legg was not used to being told what to do. Normally, it was the big Irishman who did the telling. Sean was built on a grand scale, like a Russian war memorial, with a personality that equalled his stature and, ten years ago, he might have been tempted to have a go, but at the age of fifty-five Sean knew his limits and knew he was no match for four armed thugs. Discretion being the better part of valour, he allowed himself to be manhandled into the back of the delivery van and blindfolded. His wrists were then bound with plastic ties.

“You keep quiet and speak when I tell you,” said the foreign-looking man who had been holding the gun.

Sean had no plans to speak; he was busy listening and sensing as the engine came to life. On an island that was just 35 miles long and 12 miles wide, he was pretty sure he could pick out their route by instinct, using the vehicle’s movements, speed, braking and gear changes. It helped, of course, that he had lived on the island for the best part of thirty years and new its roads and lanes as well as anyone else, and better than most.

He concentrated hard as the van left the government building service bay and took a right and a left, accessing one of the main roads in Douglas. Another right, another left and then a long sweep down to the traffic lights. Easy enough, so far. Bending right at the lights, the road suddenly became smoother. Peel Road had just been resurfaced, so that was a no-brainer. A while later, the double roundabouts at Quarter Bridge, then they were heading west on the road from Douglas to Peel.

Sean relaxed. Now it was easy to follow every twist, turn and movement of the road, like he was reading a map in his head. They were, after all, taking the road he took home every evening.

Twenty minutes later, the van stopped and, in one swift movement, somebody cut off the plastic ties that had been holding his wrists. After a moment, the side door opened and Sean was helped out. Despite the blindfold, he knew exactly where he was and the strong smell of seaweed helped confirm it. There had been a storm the day before and Fenella Beach was always a seaweed trap during westerly gales. Sean also had a pretty good idea why he was captive, though he couldn’t puzzle out why he’d been brought to this particular place late on a windy evening.

With a man holding each elbow, he was led down the stone ramp from the small car park onto the pebbled beach. Then they crossed the beach until they reached the cliff face less than one hundred metres away. The man who had been waving the gun cursed as he stumbled over a rocky protrusion. “I swear by Allah that accursed rock gets me every time.”

They moved forward a few paces and Sean had the feeling that he was in a partially enclosed space. He stretched his arms as if relieving the discomfort of having had his wrists bound. There was rough granite on each side and he sensed the same just above his head – confirmed when a drop of water landed on the thinning patch that Sandy teased him about. If it was the shallow cave in the cliffs where kids played in the summer, it was a strange place to be taken to unless, of course, these guys intended to dispose of him there.

But Sean didn’t think that they intended him any permanent harm; after all, he was of much more use to them alive than dead. Anyway, it was his birthday and you don’t go killing the government’s Chief Minister on his birthday – it’s just not sporting.

Descriptions are very good and it really could be any island around the …
By Nadine Sgouraditis on 14 April 2016
3rd in the Manx Connection series. You really don’t need to know anything about the Island it is set on. Descriptions are very good and it really could be any island around the British Isles. Some characters from the previous books we get to know a little better and a few new ones, make this an interesting addition to the series. Don’t be fooled by the beautiful tranquil cover picture this is a thriller that keeps you on your toes.

Another good story in the Manx Connection but this time all …
By Amazon Customer on 29 Aug 2016
Another good story in the Manx Connection but this time all based on the lovely Isle of Man. I related strongly to a couple of the characters and was kept in suspense throughout. However I almost felt disappointed in how a couple of nasty characters exited the story.

Two triggers launched the plot – a friend who wanted to start an unusual business and a real, genuine, little cave on a beach near to where we live. When you read the book, you may find these photos helpful.