Keep your enemies close But keep your friends closer…
Six women: Each receive a copy of an old school group photo, in which their own face has been savagely scratched out. Within a week, two of the women are dead. Detective Sergeant Tina Bassett: Known to colleagues as the Hound, she believes both women were murdered by the same person and that someone is intent on killing off the class of 98,
one by one ..
As the death toll rises , DS Bassett finds herself in a desperate race against time, as she delves deeper into the past to help uncover the catalyst to the unfolding rampage in the present.
Will she succeed in stopping a killer hell bent on having their revenge ? Or will the class of 98 finally pay their price ..
Detective Sergeant Martina Bassett was having a bad day, and it wasn’t quite 10am. It had begun with the sting of cystitis and continued with shampoo in her eye. Then came the phone call, followed by a dash to the hospital through heavy rain and heavier traffic. It was just too much, Tina decided, for a Monday. The sort of grim Monday only an Irish February can produce, freezing rain falling on a world that seemed shrunken beneath a glum sky. And then the final insult; an overheard remark as a gust of wind propelled her through the doors of the station’s front office. She was not looking where she was going, too busy shaking rain from her hair. Too busy growling into her phone that no, ten thirty this morning didn’t suit for an appointment with her GP; she had a team meeting in five minutes that would go on until at least eleven. But yes, she supposed tomorrow afternoon would have to do. Great, she thought, ending the call, a day of perpetual peeing to look forward to, that and resisting the urge to scratch her crotch. Plus, her eye was still smarting. Next thing she had cannoned into two uniforms and trod on one of their feet, she wasn’t sure whose. She was on the verge of apologising, but they were already halfway through the door. That was when one of them made the remark, which another burst of wind carried back to her like a slap about the ears.
“What’s eating the hound this morning?”
The answering laugh came back too, and Tina blinked as she always did. Not in surprise, the stupid nickname didn’t come as news to her, half the station had them. But that didn’t stop the dart of paranoia every time she overheard it used.
“It’s because of your surname. You do know that, right?”
So said her best friend Carol, when, tired, emotional, and drunk one night, Tina had confided her worst suspicions. But she and Carol had been friends since their first day at school as five-year olds, so she would say that, wouldn’t she? And seeing the doubt in Tina’s eyes, Carol had shook her head in disbelief.
“Oh, come on Tina, you don’t seriously believe it’s because you actually look like a dog?”
And of course, she didn’t, not really. But that hadn’t stopped her googling images of basset hounds all the same. Nice dogs in fairness to them – those big soulful brown eyes, the dark red markings on the long droopy ears. Nice dogs, but you didn’t want to look like one.
Tina had light brown eyes, but you couldn’t call them big. She had dark red hair too. Nice hair, people always said so. Nice hair, shame about the face. Peter Ward, who had lived on the same road as Tina, had said that to her when she was fourteen. But Peter Ward had had a limited imagination, all his insults were mere variations on a theme – nice legs, shame about the face, nice boobs, shame about the …
Bassets are single-minded, and once having caught an interesting scent, may try to follow it, no matter how much danger it poses to them. Which actually pretty much summed up her attitude to the job. In fact, it was probably one of the reasons she’d made Detective Sergeant two years ago now, at the age of thirty-two. The Basset Hound is a short, relatively heavy dog, in fact they are essentially big dogs on short legs. The dog’s hindquarters are very full and round. Which, Tina had to admit, was what she was essentially – a short girl with a big arse. Just as well the force had replaced the height requirement with a physical competence test. Adapts well to apartment living. Actually, Tina would much prefer to own a house, with a garden. But small chance of that with Dublin property prices at escape velocity levels. Tolerates being alone. Sure, she tolerated it. She didn’t like it a whole lot, but she tolerated it. Potential for weight gain…
Thank you,Maria Hoey and Zooloo’s Book Tours
About the author
Maria is an author and poet from Dublin, Ireland. Her poetry has appeared in Ireland’s foremost poetry publication, Poetry Ireland. Her short stories have featured in various publications and been shortlisted for a number of awards.
In 2017, Maria’s debut novel, The Last Lost Girl was published by Poolbeg Press, and went on to be shortlisted for the Kate O’Brien Debut Award 2018.
Maria’s second novel, On Bone Bridge was published by Poolbeg in 2018. She has also had a book for children published by Poolbeg in 2019, The Little Book of Irish Saints.
Bad Sweet Things was published in 2021 and listed in the Amazon Kindle Bestseller chart (Irish Crime).
Maria has one daughter, Rebecca, and lives in Portmarnock, Co Dublin, with her husband, Garrett, and their moustachioed cat, Midge.