Time Lapse is my second novel which I published in January 2015. You can buy it here. It combines the themes of rock climbing, surveillance and organised crime. Makes a change from police procedurals?
You can buy the book here:
The book has been accepted by Awesome Indies (see logo above) for their list of quality books that meet mainstream publishing standards. This is their review (posted on their website, Amazon & Goodreads):
IT’S HARD TO HIDE FROM YOUR PAST…
Chris Crosby is an IT expert, working for a security firm, Safe ‘n Secure, whose job it is to get the goods on scam artists, frauds, and other no-gooders. The problem is Crosby is not his real name, and he has a past that he goes to great lengths to hide.
When an old and somewhat disreputable chum from his past bumps into him, though, the past starts to poke its ugly head into his present in ways that are not only discomfiting but also dangerous.
Time Lapse by Pete Trewin is a humorous mystery that takes the reader on an ever escalating journey with Chris as he endeavors to stay one step ahead of the coppers, shady friends from the time when he was known by his real name—Chris Patterson—and Stroller, a psychopath from whom Chris and his boyhood chums stole a bag of stolen cash, and who, now that he’s been let out of the looney bin by the bureaucracy, wants it back.
It’s difficult to pin this book into a definite genre. It’s a mystery, almost a cozy, and it’s a humorous laugh riot at the same time. Trewin does a yeoman’s job of creating memorable characters, the kind you love and hate at the same time, and a few you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. His protagonist is flawed, but in an imminently human way. The flaws in his character are clearly but very subtly explained, leaving the reader with the impression that he really is one of the good guys—just that he had to overcome deficiencies in his environment to reach that point.
Careful readers will see the double meaning in the title: the hero must overcome the obstacles in his path, physical and psychological, and only the lapse of time can achieve this.
The story leaves the reader with a sense of satisfaction at the end that things have worked out for the best.
MORE REVIEW EXCERPTS FROM AMAZON AND GOODREADS:
- ‘Crime, drugs and murder, Time Lapse should appeal to most crime lovers’
- ‘The mystery filling each and every word is amazing and a bit uncanny’
- ‘Perhaps a bit tighter and more slick than the first novel. The author stays fairly close to the previous style and recipe like Reacher in scouseland’
- ‘It twists and turns unto the very end…a definite page turner’
- An engaging crime yarn…the narrative is out of the blocks like a Geordie whippet from page one’
- ‘It rattled along nicely and was a good gritty read’
THIS IS THE BACK COVER BLURB:
A despicable crime carried out twenty years ago by a teenage gang. The proceeds of a heist hidden away.
Chris Crosby was involved and could have intervened but he didn’t. So he is just as guilty. But where to hide? How about the most obvious place. He is a surveillance expert investigating organised crime in Merseyside – in particular the activities of an outfit led by Alison Mason who has had to take control when her partner was drowned in a botched drug smuggling operation. Chris is also a rock climber with ambitions to solo the hardest and most dangerous climb in the area, ‘Time Lapse’. Talk about not attracting attention to yourself.
But the ghosts from his past have been awakened. Can Chris avoid exposure? Can he shop the gangsters? Can he climb – and survive – the route?
THIS IS THE FIRST CHAPTER:
M56. Cheshire. 4 pm. Lovely autumn day. Rush hour. The air con was broken so if he opened the window he was hit by a hot blast of exhaust fumes. And Chris Crosby was caught short. When you spent all day in a van it was an occupational hazard. He kept a jar in the back but you could hardly use it when you were driving down a motorway. All he could do was try and hold on to the next service area. While idiots in company cars tailgated him at ninety. And cut him up on the inside at a hundred.
He couldn’t race them and risk being pulled over. Not with his past. And, in any case, a white Transit van wasn’t the ideal racing car. Though with its tinted windows you could sit in the back in comfort and not be noticed whilst using that marvellous piece of surveillance equipment: the standard human eyeball. The high tech stuff – the computers, cameras and microphones – were fine but to Chris there was nothing like a good look.
But today that had backfired. He hadn’t noticed the black off-roader, a Cherokee Jeep, sitting at the back of the car park until he was nearly finished.
He’d counted and photographed them in. Sixty five. He’d have to check the names when he got back to the ranch then split them into sales, admin, installers and telesales – i.e. cold callers. Check the Job Centre, sickness, tax. And not let Simple Simon stick his big nose in. If he was kept out of this job then it could be tied up and Chris could quickly complete the final report on “Snug as a Bug Double Glazing”, as it said on the sides of their vans. Times were hard. Everyone in “Safe n’ Secure” knew it. If you didn’t complete assignments to the satisfaction of clients and keep the work flowing in, the company would go pop.
The trouble was, he couldn’t work out how this scam worked. They advertised as honest joes in the local media. In a business rife with conmen and fraudsters. No heavy sales pressure. No tricks to make punters sign up at once. Yet they seemed to be doing well.
His mobile went. He switched it off.
Google Alert on the hands-free laptop. He checked it. Fuck! Someone had entered a search using his old name. After a lapse of twenty years since the crime. For a moment he could see the image. The big oak tree. Blood on the bracken and grass.
He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head hard. He noticed something in the rear-view mirror. A Cherokee Jeep was right on his tail-gate; huge and black. So close that Chris could clearly see the driver’s big face and broad bison-like forehead. And there was something strangely familiar about him. The vehicle was so close that the slightest mistake and they would both be dead.
He thumped the accelerator pedal to the floor and tried to pull away but the Jeep behind quickly caught up with him. Chris eased his foot off the pedal and waited, cruising along in the middle lane, just under the speed limit. The Jeep dropped back.
An articulated lorry gradually caught up with him on the inside. A junction was coming up. He turned off across the path of the lorry without signalling and just managed to escape onto the slip road. He caught a glimpse of the Jeep braking hard but the artic was too long and the Jeep had to continue down the motorway.
Just before he reached Helsby village, he turned off up a single track road. He stopped in the small car park at the top of the hill. Deserted. He was bursting. He jumped out and raced for the trees.
Back in the van, he switched on the laptop and checked the e-mail from Google. The search had been made from an unidentified location. No replies. He had covered his tracks well. He sighed, closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.