Name – Pete Adams

Age – clickety click – 66, and wearing well

Where are you from

I am out of a very large London family, Dad from Stepney in the East End, and Mum from Bermondsey, just south of the river. My mum and dad moved out to Orpington, Kent along with a lot of Londoners who had no homes after the war, and this is where I was born, on an estate full of decamped cockneys; now the London Borough of Bromley.

I moved to the south coast of England and the naval port and seaside resort of Portsmouth & Southsea to attend the School of Architecture, and apart from a spell in Canada, here I have remained; it is my adopted home, I love it, and set my books here.

I live with my partner of a disputed amount of many years; have two children and a granddaughter, all of whom make me burst with pride, not forgetting Charles Dog, a border terrier, who believes he is Martin in my books; dogs eh.

God he is so effected.

I set up an architect’s practice in 1977, joined by a partner in 1978, and despite a rocky ride in this last recession (thankyou bankers) we are still going.

Fiona: Tell us your latest news?

Next month (March) preview copies of my 4th book in the Kind Hearts and Martinets trilogy, Ghost and Ragman Roll, is available for anyone who would like to read and review; the book is formally published April 20th by Urbane.

For the second year I’m proud to be a panelist at CrimeFest, a convention for people who like to read an occasional crime novel as well as for die-hard fanatics. It has not only become one of the biggest crime fiction events in Europe, but is amongst the most popular dates in the international crime fiction calendar. The annual convention is considered one of ‘The best crime writing festivals around the world’

CimeFest17 is at the Marriott Hotel, Bristol UK – 18th to 21st May 2017; my panel is Friday 19th.

Fiona: When and why did you begin writing?

When – about eight or so years ago. Why – because I have always wanted to but never had the self-belief – I could not imagine a whole novel, could never get to grips with a mind map of a whole book. And then I heard a radio interview with Michael Connelly, who said he has an idea for the first chapter, starts to write and has no clue where it will go from there – that evening I started to write.

Fiona: When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I had almost finished writing my third book when my son, reading over my shoulder, said he liked the style and suggested I send the books off to someone. The first few agents replied that they liked the concept and the writing, obviously had read the manuscript as they had creative suggestions. Both agents said they would struggle placing comedy but suggested self publishing, one of them confident I would be picked up by a publisher, and I did, after self publishing my first two books, Urbane signed me saying, “They liked my crime thrillers, it made them laugh”. I had been describing the genre incorrectly.

Urbane published my third book, A Barrow Boy’s Cadenza:

Even then the moments of rapture were fleeting, despite reassurances from the Publisher, but then I started to get excellent reviews, even in America in Publisher’s Weekly and Kirkus, and one recently from German author Skadi Winter, who said that A Barrow Boy’s Cadenza was, in her view, one of the best contemporary British novels she had read in a long time.

I then felt like a writer.

Fiona: What inspired you to write your first book?

The radio interview with Michael Connolly, except ideas had been floating around in my mind for so many years, not least, I wanted to write a story set in a police station where everyone was polite to each other, and that led onto a Pride and Prejudice inspired novel that grew into a trilogy in eight books; my central protagonist being DCI Jack (nicknamed Jane) Austin.

Of course, Mary Poppins is also in there somewhere, not the penguins, definitely not the penguins; I’m with P. L. Travers on that one.

Fiona: Do you have a specific writing style?

An interesting question because my style has been described as unique, certainly unorthodox – I am not sure how I feel about that, but I am choosing to be flattered – bit late now as I have written all eight books in the Kind Hearts and Martinets trilogy.

Fiona: How did you come up with the title?

Kind Hearts and Martinets was the working title of my first book that grew into three books. I then chose to have that as the title of the trilogy, as it was then, but this grew even more, but it had been reported that Kind hearts and Martinets was a trilogy and my Publisher and I agreed to run with it, even though I had finished the fifth book by then.

Fiona: How did you come up with the title?

Kind Hearts and Martinets was the working title of my first book that grew into three books. I then chose to have that as the title of the trilogy, as it was then, but this grew even more, but it had been reported that Kind hearts and Martinets was a trilogy and my Publisher and I agreed to run with it, even though I had finished the fifth book by then.

Not everyone picks up on this, and not everyone picks up on the fact that the stories are more often than not female character driven – the central protagonist, DCI Jack (Jane) Austin is but a foil, a larger than life character who is the intuitive catalyst to a lot of what happens, but the female leads are, in the main, the solvers. In fact, this may be the only crime thriller where the main protagonist, a DCI no less, has likely never solved a crime in his life…! But then he has other qualities, and you will have to read the books to discover what they are.

Fiona: How much of the book is realistic and are experiences based on someone you know, or events in your own life?

All of it is completely made up for heaven’s sake…

Fiona: What books have influenced your life most? A mentor?

I am a fan of Scandi-noir, Anne Holt, all of the Wallander series by Henning Mankell. What I like about Scandi-noir, in books and film, is they use real people, warts-an-all, and I have adopted this in my books – not for me the shiny toothed Hollywood lovelies rolling in filthy lucre.

Other writers? I love Wodehouse, and someone once picked up this influence and called me a cockney Wodehouse – I quite liked that. Janet Evanovich, I like her pace and wit, and I always try to read and review debut authors, there are some really talented writers out there, and I review their work on my book page – noted below.

Fiona: Are there any new authors that have grasped your interest and who is your favorite author and what is it that really strikes you about their work?

I read high wide and handsome (not unlike myself I might add, well, the high and wide bit at least), and I do like to read debut authors, but to highlight anyone in particular might be too difficult – my suggestion is, scroll down my book page and you will see those I have enjoyed, and I give detailed reviews:

I had such a good review from the German author Skadi Winter that I bought one of her books, Hexe. It was a well written and very moving account of a child in rural Germany growing up at the start of WW2 and just after, through the eyes of the child it is a well observed perspective on life and politics of the time; I recommend it.

Fiona: Name one entity that you feel supported you outside of family members.

My Publisher – Urbane Publications, and a whole host of book bloggers, and the readers who contact me, some of whom have become my Beta readers.

Fiona: Do you see writing as a career?

Bearing mind my age, although looks often deceive here, I would love to be able to retire and write, forever and ever amen, into the sunset, and this Nirvana will come about, it is just a matter of when – you try writing with your fingers crossed, it ain’t easy.

Fiona: If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your latest book?

No. Editor – take note.

Fiona: Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?

I was asked this only a few weeks ago and for me it is about being a chronic daydreamer – all it required was self-belief.

Fiona: Can you share a little of your current work with us?

Publishing date 20th April 2017:

This is chapter Two – the first chapter and prologue sets out various scenarios that eventually play a part in the narrative construct, but I thought your readers might like a sample of the loving relationship between the two elderly police officers, Detective Superintendent (takes no prisoners) Amanda Bruce, now Austin, as she has married the overweight and ugly cockney barrow boy spiv, DCI Jack (nicknamed Jane ) Austin:

Sunday was market day in the historic square in Honfleur and Jack was in amongst the throngs, clearly, or evidently not so clearly, speaking his pigeon French; not to pigeons-francais but to the confused market stall holders-francais. Mandy could see the Gallic shrugs from the window of their hotel room in the Hostelerie Le Chat; although the hotel is now known by another name, Jack insisted on calling the hotel by its “proper” title; he couldn’t pronounce the new name anyway. What you call a “Jack-no-say-quoi” he had said laughing. Jack Austin was not the sort of person who took change all that well, or speaking another language, and that was obvious to Mandy even from this far away. She

reflected, and then smiled to herself watching him, secretly admiring his confidence in amongst the old enemy as he called the French. She thought she would nip out and join him; maybe they could have a coffee on the square together.

Waltzing out through the swishing, former Le Chat’s, electric glider doors she managed to catch up to him as he regaled a trader about selling pets from a stall. He was preparing to buy all of the mangy kittens just before Mandy stopped him, ‘Jack, we’ll not be able to take them back with us; let’s have a coffee on the square, eh?’

The magic word coffee, a bit like fish or seafood, all words that got his attention and the kittens were immediately forgotten; some Dr Doolittle. He changed her mind about coffee on the square and suggested they would prefer the harbour front. She was okay with that even though it was chilly, but the rain was holding off and the French had it sorted of course, the outside seats had clear plastic enclosures ready to roll down should it rain or if the wind picked up, so yes, she would do that; that would be nice.

They were enjoying a wonderful honeymoon and were not about to let the November weather distract from the pleasure they were having in each other’s company, entering their second week away and they had visited many places in Normandy. Mandy, practiced in the art of living with Jack, had listened with a great deal of patience and not a little amusement as he made like he knew the history of everything and insisted on telling her. In Bayeux he had explained parts of the tapestry and when she pointed out that the card describing the exhibit said something else altogether, she had to stop him approaching the assistants to point out their error. But this was the Jack she fell in love with, and he loved her, and this made her feel amazing inside.

She stood patiently watching her eejit trying to organise the best seat by the harbour of the particular cafe that currently took his fancy. While he argued incomprehensibly with other patrons she reflected on their, what seemed like a long and incident filled journey over, what was in reality, a short period of intimacy that had brought them to this point in their lives. She was a successful police officer, Detective Superintendent Amanda Bruce, now Mrs. Austin, as she had married Detective Chief Inspector Jack (nicknamed Jane) Austin. She smiled to herself as he was not really much of a copper, and little by little she had found out over this short time, that seemed like ages, that he had probably never solved a crime in his life. He was though a very good spy, not action man spook, but the cerebral kind. In fact you had to keep the inept, clumsy, gigantic oaf of a bloke, definitely out of the front line or he endangered not only himself but anyone in the vicinity, and that included the bad guys.

It had come as a surprise to Mandy to learn, eventually, that he had never actually retired from MI5, although he did pick up his gong, a CBE, for pretending to do so, and a lot of people, those that knew anyway, would say that about summed up Jack. Typical of the man though, he had surrounded himself with an entourage of amazingly clever but cowboy misfits, and it was this bunch of loyal monkey spanners that did all the solving for him. What he was good at was piecing things together, assembling and dissembling, thinking laterally, seeing the overall picture, and that is what he had always done in MI5 and still did, only in the guise of a community policeman. The fact that this geriatric cockney, jumped up barrow boy, spiv of a bloke had settled himself in the Southern England coastal City of Portsmouth was also no coincidence. He had left London, he says, because he wanted to be beside the sea, which was in part the truth. However, in reality, he was charged to set up a benign, low level police unit that could investigate anything that worried MI5 in Portsmouth, a strategically important naval and commercial port.

He had recently been instrumental in resolving a conspiracy that caused the country to be submerged into chaos and saturating debt, and if Mandy knew anything about the price of fish, and living with Jack the renowned seafood nut, she obviously did, there would be repercussions. But for her, she was fifty four and for Jack, who was now sixty and suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, it was time to slow down and look to retirement, which she also knew scared the bajeezers out of him. Still, this was good, a holiday, and he had handed the reigns over to Jo Jums, Detective Inspector Josephine Wild, who had a good control of the spook operation known as the Community Policing Squad, which occasionally, and for good form, did what it said on the can.

She thought she would like to continue taking her ease and muse more this morning but the Patron was signaling for her to do something about Jack. So she stepped in, ‘Jack, please, this seat is the one I would prefer. I can see the old carousel and I like to look at the mediaeval buildings,’ she said, heading for the new table.

‘Well why didn’t you say? Only I thought as we sat at this table last night…’ he had a confused, hang-dog look.

‘I’m not like you and have to have the same place all the time, I like a change, prefer a change even,’ and she expertly disguised her exasperated look. He wasn’t listening; naturally, he was busy directing the waiting staff away from the other table, much to the relief of the woman and the amusement of the man already sitting there.


‘Cafe espress et un Americano seal vous plate mate,’ and Jack wobbled his head as clearly the waiter understood his order, ‘Douze points je pense.’ The waiter understood these words also, but not the rhyme or reason, nevertheless he toddled off to get the beverages.

‘Oui Jack, tres bon,’ and Mandy relaxed into her seat and looked around her whilst acknowledging his twelve points; she knew what was important to her husband. Honfleur was truly a magical place, an ancient harbour that Jack insisted William the Conqueror sailed from in 1066, but the man at the museum had told her, quietly, it had in fact been Barfleur. She thought she would not disillusion him, he was so excited and she was sure William the Bastard wouldn’t mind. Leaning back in her chair and drifting, she said, ‘It’s truly divine here Jack, I’m glad we …’ she was brought back to reality as Jack interrupted her discourse and ducked under the table, ‘…Jack, I was talking to you.’

‘Shush look away love,’ he whispered, so naturally everyone heard as he was, as he says, a bit Mutt and Jeff and consequently shouted everything. He wouldn’t wear hearing aids, arguing that he didn’t want to look daft, so she was having this so called hushed conversation with him under the table and the both of them looked daft. Then she saw him crawling away and halt at the feet of a man who had parked himself beside their table, then sidled to intercept Jack.

The man looked down, amused, but with no appearance of surprise, ‘Bonjour Jacques, comment allez vous?’

‘Custard you old tart,’ and Jack began the slow and rambunctious exercise of standing and pretending he’d just found a franc.

‘Jack, please come and sit down and introduce me to your friend, and its Euros now.’

‘But we’re on honeymoon love and I was talking about a mate of mine, Frank.’

Used to her man and his face saving inanities, she gestured her head to this rather suave, intelligent looking, forty something swarthy Frenchman; tall, even if he was slightly stooping with more than a hint of a hunch. He had the look of a warped George Clooney she thought, and with synonymous confidence and flare, the man took a seat from an empty adjacent table and sat down next to Mandy. Jack eventually joined them, two puddle stains on the knees of what he called his cream holiday round the houses. He didn’t notice, but if the chuckling from the other customers was anything to go by, they all did.

The deformed George Clooney took Mandy’s hand and kissed the back of it and introduced himself, ‘Henri Cousteau, Direction Centrale du Renseignement Intérieur, to you ma cheri; French intelligence.’

‘Yeah, yeah Custard now renard pied Oscar,’ apparently French for foxtrot Oscar, fuck off; Monsieur Malacopperism, ‘we’re on our honeymoon as I’m sure you know.’

‘Custard Jack?’

Henri explained for Mandy, ‘Jacque mixes up Cousteau with custard for which we French have no word, apart from crème anglais, but what do I know, they all call me Custard in the office now and even my kids do; my wife thankfully sticks to Henri.’

Mandy laughed, recognising the effect that Jack and his nicknames seemed to have everywhere, which clearly extended into mainland Europe as well, then pulled herself up, ‘Why are you stalking us, I saw you yesterday evening?’

‘You did?’ Jack looked surprised.

‘Yes Brains, but don’t worry, I’m a real police officer.’

Custard laughed, stifled it when he saw the look on Jack’s face and stopped completely when he caught the menacing stare from Mandy.

‘Okay Custard spill the feckin’ flageolets ami, and then feck off, seal vous bleedin’ plate.’

Custard laughed at Mandy’s use of Jack’s famed Cod Irish, cockney and Franglais, but her face indicated that it was not intended to be amusing.

‘I am so sorry Mandy, Jack can take care of himself, certainment, but for you, I am truly sorry. So I will be quick,’ he signalled for an espress.

Mandy told the waiter to feck off, but nicely, and in her perfect French, and then to Henri, ‘Parlais frog, maintenant!’ not so nice, or perfect.

Jack wobbled his head in French and sent the gesture that said let that be a lesson to you, over to Custard adding a few knobs de brass, but Custard ignored it and opened up, focusing on Madam Sensible.

‘We have intelligence that there is an extreme right wing faction working from our port of Caens and your own of Portsmouth. The reasons, we do not know, but Jacqueline Parmentier, a senior banker who was instrumental in the deal that changed the financial map for Britain and then Europe, the deal you were involved in Jack…’ Henri’s was a face scrawled with sadness, ‘…well…’ and he wobbled his head, then said with clearly a heavy heart, ‘…she has been killed.’

‘Jacqueline, she’s dead?’

He nodded, ‘Oui Jacque, murdered. We suspect these right wing individuals and we are worried that this is not just reprisals, but another conspiracy. They want to continue to disrupt society further, still rocking from the knock on effects of the credit crunch and subsequent recessions, and someone is using right wing factions to achieve this. How, we are not sure, but we think it is being driven from your side.’ Henri accompanied all of this with the manual Gallic flourishes that so amused Jack and mesmerized Mandy, doubly so as George Clooney’s hump was not so evident as he sat facing her; this was a handsome Frog.

But Mandy noticed Jack looked care worn, in significant contrast to the joyous face he had put on especially for the holiday; his visage vacation, as he called it, was shattered.

‘Oh merde on it Custard,’ he sighed in French, a token Gallic shrug and he vibrated his lips like a satisfied horse. ‘We expected years of social unrest following on from the deal, of course, people were seriously unsettled by recent events but Jacqueline, she was a lovely woman. I knew she was scared. It was mainly her idea to spread the debt over seventy years, did you know that?’

Custard nodded, he understood, ‘We do not know what is happening but something is. I thought I would, err, how you say, tip you the wink.’

Mandy stepped in, ‘You do know we are thinking of retiring don’t you Henri?’

‘I do and I wish you well, but you should tip your guys in the field. You know how it is Jacque, it takes time for les grunts to find out what is really happening, and sometimes…’ he shrugged and pursed his lips, ‘…it’s too late.’

Jack nodded, acknowledging this sad fact, looked up and waved and shouted ‘Garden.’

Custard corrected him, ‘Garcon.’

‘That’s what I parled diddli?’

Mandy laughed with Henri and they sat with coffee and Jack ordered three glasses of Armagnac, it was nearly lunchtime and he fancied it and Custard did too; it took the chill off, both physically and emotionally. Custard drank his Armagnac and espresso then excused himself, kissed Mandy three times. Jack noted this and knew he’d got the old European kissing off Pat, she didn’t seem to mind, and so if anyone asked he could say that Custard does three, and how could they argue against that, and if they had a problem they could ask Custard or even Patricia?

‘A good point Jack, I will remember to support you also on that,’ Mandy said. Jack was known for his propensity to speak his thoughts, some saying this contributed greatly to the difficulty people saw he had in life, a picture of life that eluded him, but nobody else.

‘Did I…?’

Mandy nodded smiling, ‘You did. Shall we go back to the hotel and have lunch? They had some lamb I wanted to try. You can have fish, of course, and then an afternoon in bed eh?’ she raised her curvy eyebrows that he thought were gloriously lush on her beautiful, if aging, Sophia Loren boatrace. He stood and took her hand and as she raised herself so he pecked her cheeks three times. He looked around to see if everyone noticed, but all he saw was a Patron seemingly pleased to see the back of him, which didn’t worry Jack as the bloke was French, so what would he know, apart for the price of fish.

Fiona: Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

No, other than I find my mood at the time can steer the story into an unintended direction. I used to say that every book I write begins with a serious intent, but after three or four pages, levity creeps in, but then again, Peter Ustinov (and this is my favourite quote) said that “Comedy is a funny way of being serious”. I have however been thrown by my latest and ninth book, Larkin’s Barkin’ which has become quite dark, but I have very good writer friends who know me well, and they said turn the lights on thn, and stop being a cotton candy pansy arsed wimp and get on with it. I love it when I get warm compliments from my piers, and other structures that poke out into the sea.

Fiona: Do you have to travel much concerning your book(s)?

No – I draw on my memory of places and drop in a get out of jail free clause at the beginning. I set most of my books in Portsmouth, with the odd trip to London, and I shamelessly manipulate parts of Portsmouth to suit my narrative, and surprisingly, people who know the area, say they like it. If they don’t, well, get a life, I’m making it all up for heaven’s sake.

Fiona: Who designed the covers?

The first two covers of my self-published books were designed by my former secretary, Jan East, steered heavily by me, unfortunately in the wrong direction – I had not a clue what I was doing, and the result was no fault of Jan. My Publisher has a designer who has created a new look for the books as they come out of Urbane – I will try to find out the name, but they have captured something in the graphics that says it all and I get many compliments in return.

Book One

Book two

Book three

Book four


I am hoping that my Publisher will reissue books one and two, Cause and Effect and Irony in the Soul with cover designs to compliment the new style.

Fiona: What was the hardest part of writing your book?

Not the writing, but finding a publisher and then the promotion. An author these days, even with a traditional publisher, has to get so involved in promotion. It is a struggle at first but after a while it becomes second nature, and some aspects I enjoy.

Fiona: Did you learn anything from writing your book and what was it?

Not really, except Ghost and Ragman Roll moves off on a tangent, and I learned that even if you are involved in a series, each book can be different. Book 5 Merde and Mandarins is different to the first four, and book six The Duchess of Frisian Tun, I have written pretty much as a central scene, much like a stage play, and I thoroughly enjoyed doing that and believe it achieves what I wanted it to do, which was to be a pivotal book, winding up books one to five and setting the course for the two finale books, Rhubarb in the Mammon and Umble Pie.

Fiona: If any of your books was made into a film who would you like to play the lead?

I have been asked this before and many readers have suggested that it would make a good TV series – feelers are out with some interest returned, but I have learned one thing in this business, nothing moves fast and certainly not as fast as you would like.

Most all of my characters I try to write as somewhat larger than real-life, not Hollywood, gleaming teeth, box office dahlings, but as in the Scandi-noir books and films, I want to see people who have an idiosyncratic beauty.

In my books, Det Superintendent Amanda Bruce falls for DCI Austin, and describes him as overweight, and ugly, but not – he is attractive, just not in the pre-conceived sense. She describes Jack (Jane) Austin as a cross between Geoffrey Rush and a slapped arse; I would like Geoffrey Rush. I know he is Australian, and such a consummate actor I am sure he could master the cockney accent, and would be okay carrying a bit of extra padding. Rush has rugged features and a wonderful smile that can break away all perception of a lived in boatrace. Of course Jack Austin has only one eye, a devastating injury left him sightless with horrendous scarring that he wears with perverse pride – yes, I think Geoffrey Rush would be good.

Amanda is difficult. I always had in mind a mature woman who has had to deal with, for instance, a big nose, but Jack Austin loves Amanda’s fireman’s hose. She does not consider herself a natural beauty but Jack sees the essence of a real woman in Mandy, and his compliments make her feel good. I have thought for some time that Amanda would be well played by Abigail Thaw.

Fiona: Do you have any advice for other writers?

Never give up.

Fiona: Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?

Yeah – please leave a review, even if it is just a brief note; authors sink or swim on reviews.

Fiona: What book are you reading now?

The Gift Maker by Mark Mayes, although my to be read list is long and daunting, I want to read next, a book by William Sutton (all about Victorian Villainy) and then I have a yearning to read Wodehouse again. I have a go to book of poetry, the new book by Tess Rosa Ruiz, An American Slumber – I keep meaning to review this book but I’m continually seeing different things – that’s bleedin’ poets for yer…

Fiona: Do you remember the first book you read?

Probably William by Richmal Crompton, but I never really read until I was just past forty, a librarian recommended Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco – I was hooked.

Fiona: What makes you laugh/cry?

Apart from my own books? I once answered the door after writing a poignant piece and embarrassed myself and the caller, crying at the doorstep. Oh, and I once caught my little finger in the drawer and cried (it can really hurt you know) and then I laughed at what a silly Billy I was, and don’t get me started on paper cuts…

Fiona: Is there one person past or present you would meet and why?

The problem is you meet people you have over years put upon a pedestal, and they disappoint – I think I prefer my own illusionary imagination.

Fiona: What do you want written on your head stone and why?

Thank God that’s over – Misery is Optional.

Fiona: Other than writing do you have any hobbies?

Reading, I used to play rugby and cricket, now love watching both – see my pic with David Duckham, celebrated winger for England, Babas and the Lions in the seventies – have shared many laughs with him on the rugby dinner circuit; a great raconteur, which is a bit like a North American fury animal I think.

That’s me in the dress, oh aright it’s not

Of course, embarrassing my children is a wonderful pastime, and now my granddaughter who I intend to teach ballet; it was lovely to dig out my old ballet plimsoles again.

Fiona: What TV shows/films do you enjoy watching?

Scandi Noir, good comedy and a bit of schmaltz, probably more than is likely good for me – watched a brilliant French comedy on Netflix the other day Call my Agent, I think that will resonate with a lot of writers.

Fiona: Favorite foods / Colors/ Music

Roast lamb, curry (after a few pints) / blue and red (depending on my mood) / classical music in the main, jazz, old sixties music, especially the Stones.

Fiona: If you were not a writer what else would you like to have done?

Well, I am an architect but we live in a world of Philistines only interested in how cheap you are, not how good you are, and for someone who cares – this is depressing. However, for a laugh I said to someone the other day I could advise on DIY in one of the big stores; what? I’ll have you know that our fridge door kept on coming open, so I shouted at it and hit it with a hammer – job done; yes, I think I would be good at that.

Fiona: What can we expect from you in the future?

There are eight books in the Kind Hearts and Martinets trilogy, all written – so a lot to come – I would like to see books one and two reissued via my Publisher; watch this space. And Larkin’s Barkin’ is well underway.

Whopping Tales, I’m looking for a Publisher right now, and my Short stories – I like these and in response to feedback I have extended The Pop series (currently 3 with more to come), Dinner Lady, Garroted, Willie’s Ghost (a Christmas ghost story), Epiphany Coalhole (an environmental mystery), Gunfight at the OK Care Home, and new A Pinot Noir series, with undercover (if it’s raining) secret agent Pewee D’Nob, DGSE (French intelligence, if that is not an oxymoron) and his long standing rival, Pino Grigio, written in authentic francaise-pigeon. In the pipeline, The Princess Dairies, starring Milko, The Mouses of Parliament – the case of the PM’s knicker elastic – future titles; Interrogation of a Wimp, Heavenly Bliss, Beer Goggles, Nose Flute, Matt Mutt and Whoopah…maybe more?

Fiona: Do you have a blog/website? If so what is it?

I really should have a website – it has been suggested that Martin, Jack Austin’s Border Terrier, should also have one; you wouldn’t believe the stick I get when he gets hurt. I have a Facebook page for my books and where I review other writers: I always respond to messages:

My books are also on Amazon, where I do have an author’s page but I think I messed it up – as previously mentioned, I am not good at IT – my books are:

Dark Minds Anthology – Bloodhound books

Book 1 – Cause and Effect self published and currently on e-book only –

Book 2 – Irony in the Soul self published and currently on e-book only –

Book 3 – A Barrow Boy’s Cadenza – Published by Urbane

The latest review says: “It took me a while to get used to all the silly names DCI Jack (Jane) Austin has for his colleagues and I often wondered how his delightfully drawn partner, Mandy, put up with him. But their loving relationship gives a great beating heart to this crime thriller which tackles social issues alongside crime as the plot sweeps you along from Portsmouth to London and the seat of government. This is an unusual book, interweaving comedy and crime but it definitely works. There is an exuberance in A Barrow Boy’s Cadenza which is totally delightful and, for me, unexpected. Having never read anything by Pete Adams before, I shall be looking out for the next in this series.”


Book 4 – pre-order – Ghost and Ragman Roll – Published by Urbane