I am delighted to be joining the blog tour today for The Patient by Tim Sullivan which was published by Head of Zeus March 3rd. Described as ‘the eagerly awaited third instalment featuring the eccentric and socially awkward, but brilliantly persistent DS George Cross. An outsider himself, having been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Condition, DS Cross is especially drawn to cases concerning the voiceless and the dispossessed.’
I have an extract to share with you all so I do hope you enjoy!
[ About the Book ]
Bristol detective DS George Cross, champion of the outsider, the voiceless and the dispossessed.
No fingerprints. No weapon. No witnesses. Can DS Cross prove it was murder?
DS George Cross can be rude, difficult, and awkward with people. But his unfailing logic and dogged pursuit of the truth means his conviction rate is the best on the force. Now, this unusual detective is met with an even more unusual case.
When a young woman is found dead, the Bristol Crime Unit is quick to rule it a suicide: the woman had a long history of drug abuse. But her mother is convinced it was murder: her daughter had been clean for years and making strides in a new therapy programme.
As an outsider himself, DS Cross is drawn to cases involving the voiceless and the dispossessed. He is determined to defy his bosses and re-open the investigation, even if it costs him his career. Soon he is mired in a labyrinth of potential suspects, but can he solve the case before his superiors shut it down for good?
The Patient is a part of the DS George Cross thriller series, which can be read in any order.
[ Extract ]
Cross was unlocking his bike in the shelter outside the Major Crime Unit in Bristol when he heard a noise behind him. He turned, expecting to see maybe a stray cat or dog, but instead found a woman crouching in the corner of the racks, eating a sandwich. He’d seen this woman before. She had been sitting in the reception of the MCU for the past three days. On one occasion he’d seen her talking to the desk sergeant. She had seemed quite calm, gently spoken, as if whatever it was she was there for was being dealt with. She was well dressed in a middle-class, fairly affluent way. She didn’t seem to be creating a fuss or making a nuisance of herself.
After three days of walking past her, Cross had determined to talk to her and find out what the issue was. But she wasn’t in reception as he left that day, so he assumed that it had been dealt with. Her presence in the bike shelter obviously contradicted this. She had left the building, yes, but she hadn’t left, per se. His previous curiosity was now doubled by her apparent dogged determination not to leave. She was bedraggled, her hair and clothes wet from the incessant rain they’d had that afternoon. ‘Wet rain’ was how his work partner DS Josie Ottey had once described it. When he’d asked her whether rain was not, by its very nature, always wet, she explained that she meant the kind of rain that fell in large voluminous drops. Drops so large they were almost impossible to avoid, as if there was a giant leaky tap in the sky.
The woman’s dishevelled appearance wasn’t helped by the fact that she had tied the plastic carrier bag in which she had brought her lunch round her head as a makeshift rainproof scarf. She had brought her lunch with her every day for the past few days. She’d planned her visits and was organised; obviously anticipating a lengthy wait, he remembered thinking. He had also noticed that she made her sandwiches with baguettes, not sliced white bread. He took this as a further sign of her being middle class, though he was sure that Ottey would call him a snob for such an observation. She looked like she was in her late sixties.
He stopped unlocking his bike when he saw her. She said nothing; nor did he. He was never very good at initiating conversation unless he was conducting an interview, in which case he realised it was a fundamental requirement. However, it occurred to him that as he had been intending to talk to this woman when she was inside anyway, he probably shouldn’t wait for her to speak first.
‘What are you doing in here?’ he asked.
‘Keeping out of the rain,’ she replied, quietly.
‘Wouldn’t that have been more efficiently achieved if you’d stayed inside?’ It wasn’t an unreasonable question, he thought.
‘They asked me to leave,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘Because they obviously think I’m a nuisance and don’t want to have to deal with me.’
‘Well, that would be because this isn’t actually a police station. A police station has to deal with everyone. I can tell you where the nearest one is,’ he replied.
‘I’ve already been there. I’ve been to all the local police stations and they sent me here. Now they’ve sent me away as well.’
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘“Why” what?’
‘Have you been to all the neighbouring police stations?’
‘And who are you, exactly?’ she asked.
Cross thought this a perfectly legitimate question. ‘I’m DS George Cross of the Major Crime Unit,’ he replied.
‘Oh good. You’re just the person I need to talk to then. My name is Sandra Wilson and my daughter has been murdered,’ she said matter-of-factly.
Purchase Link ~ The Patient
[ Bio ]
Tim Sullivan is a crime writer, screenwriter and director, whose film credits include A Handful of Dust, Jack and Sarah, and Cold Feet. His crime series featuring the socially awkward but brilliantly persistent DS George Cross has topped the book charts and been widely acclaimed. Tim lives in North London with his wife Rachel, the Emmy award-winning producer of The Barefoot Contessa and Pioneer Woman.
Website ~ TimSullivan.uk
Twitter ~ @TimJRSullivan
