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Inspector Andy Horton on investigation at the Isle of Wight Festival


Death Lies Beneath, an Inspector Andy Horton crime novel by Pauline RowsonDEATH LIES BENEATH is number eight in the Detective Inspector Andy Horton series of police procedural mysteries. It is set in June when the famous Isle of Wight Festival takes place and Horton's investigations take him from Portsmouth across the Solent on the Wightlink ferry to the Isle of Wight and to the festival itself.

The Isle of Wight Festival 2018 takes place from 21 June to 24 June 2018. This year is the 50th anniversary of the festival.

I thought I would post two extracts from when Horton is at the Isle of Wight Festival, the first is when he is with Agent Eames from Europol.


When ex con, Daryl Woodley is found dead on the marshes bordering Langstone Harbour the Intelligence Directorate believe his murder is linked to big time crook Marty Stapleton currently serving time in prison. DI Horton is not so sure. He attends Woodley’s funeral in the hope it will give them a lead in an investigation that has drawn a blank at every turn. It does but not in the way he or anyone expected. When the body of a woman dressed in black is found on a rotting boat being salvaged in Portsmouth Harbour Horton is thrown into a complex and frustrating investigation.

"Pauline Rowson is an excellent constructor of false trails and DEATH LIES BENEATH is no exception. Carefully plotted, Andy Horton is a likeable if flawed character." Mysteries in Paradise

Read an extract of Death Lies Beneath when Inspector Andy Horton's investigations take him to the Isle of Wight Festival


The announcement for passengers to return to their cars came over the loudspeaker of the car ferry and twenty-five minutes later Horton was showing his warrant card to the security officers at the backstage entrance to Seaclose Park. The festival kicked off tonight and the fields away from the main performance areas were packed with tents and people. He asked where they could find Gregory Harlow, the event-catering manager for Coastline.
‘The blue and white tent,’ came the answer. ‘It’s the one that’s kitted out like a beach cafe with deckchairs, sand and surfboards.’
Following directions, and leaving the car inside the gates, as instructed, they threaded their way through the hordes of workers and security officers across the bone-hard field towards a giant blue-and-white-striped tent emblazoned with the words, ‘Coastline Cool’. It was one of many they passed, along with several coffee stalls, ice-cream kiosks and fast-food outlets. The hot midday air resounded with the sounds of shouting, drilling, banging and a blast of music loud enough to be heard on the mainland six miles across the Solent.
‘I’m glad I don’t live round here,’ Horton said, with feeling, spotting the bulky figure of DI Dennings talking to a lean fair-haired man in his mid-to late forties outside the Coastline Cool tent. Dennings was wearing the navy polo shirt and dark trousers of the official festival security officers.
‘Most of the residents move out for the festival,’ Eames said.
‘Can’t say I blame them.’
Dennings glanced across at them but gave no indication of recognition or hint of surprise, but Horton glimpsed the anger behind his eyes as they drew level. He guessed Dennings was thinking they were there to muscle in on his operation, or spoil it.
‘We’re looking for Mr Gregory Harlow,’ he said, politely.
‘You’ve just found him,’ answered the man beside Dennings.
Horton showed his ID and introduced Eames as a colleague. He caught Dennings’ baffled look as he obviously tried to place her.
‘We’d like a word, Mr Harlow.’
‘Can’t you see I’m busy?’
‘This won’t take long. There are a few questions we’d like to ask you in connection with the death of a woman.’
His expression showed no surprise, only extreme agitation and fatigue. Horton thought he might be a few years younger than his wife.
‘Do you have to ask them now? We’re way behind. The first bands are due to play in less than six hours.’
‘Is there somewhere we can talk in private, sir?’ Eames said politely, ignoring his plea and eyeing Dennings pointedly. She didn’t know him.
‘I’ll leave you to it, Greg. Thanks for the coffee,’ Dennings said pleasantly enough but Horton could tell he was bursting with curiosity.
‘You’d better come inside,’ Harlow said grudgingly...

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POSTED BY: PAULINE ROWSON
JUNE 21ST, 2018 @ 16:20:26 BST
 
 


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