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The ancient city of Chester, Friday night, and the weekend starts here. High summer, skimpy fashions, short skirts, tight jeans. It’s a sultry night, and the town’s relaxed.
It’s 11pm and the pubs are closing. The band has just finished playing; packing their instruments away, but the night is young.
A young man enters the still crowded bar. Walks up to the small stage. Pulls out a handgun and empties four shots into the lead singer. One, two, three, four.
He waves the gun at the stunned and shocked crowd. Yelling, hollering and screaming, they part like the Red Sea, and he walks through the valley of death and out into the night, laughing as he goes.
The sound of sirens floats across the humid city. Inspector Walter Darriteau is soon on the scene. He lives close by, and the truth is, he’d much rather be at work than lying in bed. The local crime reporter turns up too, Gardenia Floem, smart clothes, pleasant woman, nice teeth.
‘Is this drugs related?’ she asks.
‘How the hell do I know? Get her out of here!’
So begins David Carter’s Walter Darriteau murder mystery, “The Sound of Sirens”, but is it drugs related, Walter ponders, and if it isn’t, what’s it all about? He doesn’t know it, but this will be the first of three dreadful killings.
This is David’s eighth book, and a compelling read, available as a paperback, or on Kindle.