Sometimes your grandchildren surprise you.

Port Fairy Priest a Detective Voss story.

My second Detective Voss  novel seems to have strayed from the original plot frame that I created before going to Port Fairy a couple of years ago. This was the original plan, might have to back to it and change a few names to protect the criminals.

Synopsis:

Voss takes a cottage in Port Fairy to re-assess his life. Likes the ebb and flow of the locals, doesn’t like the tourists much, but appreciates the improvement to the coffee shops and pubs their trade has brought.

He befriends a fisherman who is in his mid-seventies, Leith Pritchard is worried about his grandchildren, they are cutting school and spending most of their time boozing and taking drugs

He has noticed that they have better supply a week after the full moon at first, he thought the drugs were coming in from the fishing fleet, but as most of the captains and crew had children affected, he’d dismissed it.

Voss watches a wedding where the bride’s theme is red and black, Men are dresses in mail box red suits with black top hats, while the bridesmaids a dressed in black with red aprons. The wedding is lavish and Voss learns the couple are recent pop music stars who have decided Port Fairy has the right setting for their big day.

On the day of the wedding while the town watches and waits for the nuptials to begin, Voss and Leith study the coming and going of the florist, the priest and the caterers. Something irks Voss the, sight of the priest seems familiar and he runs a series of old mugshot images through his mind without finding anything. The priest, once a circuit man who came from Melbourne to take communion once a month, has moved up within the church. His visits often resulted in the kids going wild. Port Fairy has changed but people still remember the Uniting Church goers in the town who believed Satan was at work. The Jehovah Witness didn’t have an opinion and the lapsed Christians, agnostics and non-believers are sure the local copper turned a blind eye to the problem.

One time choir boy, Kyle Kipping, late thirties has made it big crossing between heavy and death metal music genres, drugs have dominated the headlines during the last ten years of his career, but it has brought him a new populous of followers. His early career as a pop singer had several number one singles and top selling albums. A career highlight of being promoted as the top billing on Carols in the Domain and Carols by Candlelight crashed during the Enquiry into Child Abuse, when he testified against a popular priest.

After publicly renouncing the Catholic Church on the sleeve of his last album, Songs of Regret, his producers, the recording company has pushed him into filming the wedding to release it in increments as video support for the songs.

Ten years on and, while the band is blasting the new album from several speakers the size of small cars, unknown to the quests in the marquee below at the Rockstar wedding, evil of its own is looking down on them. the priest is found dead, face down in front of a burning cross on top of the local lookout. Thirteen small and charred wooden crosses surround the body.

Speculation about the devil, drugs and God’s Justice whip the town gossips and scaremongers into a frenzy. Rumours surround the death some saying satanic symbols rose from the burning paint and noise from flames sounded like demons squealing as the vehicle burnt. Firefighters reported being unable to quench the flames and suspected an accelerant like napalm. Other reports had the body covered in knives sticking out of every muscle and body part.

What they couldn’t know was that the man’s genitals were removed and stuffed into his mouth before he died. Cause of death asphyxiation.

Along with the wedding guests and gossip columnists, now city journalists and TV reporters descended on the town in helicopters cars and most of the accommodation is booked out to accommodate them. Considering moving to a quieter location Voss answers his door to the Bishop seeking a meeting. Voss tries to push the thought of getting back to investigation to one side until the bishop tell him the priests name. this is the man who set Voss on his career as a copper. The only real father figure in his life.

He takes the case and is bewildered by the details of the crime. Father Geoffrey was due to testify before the Royal Commission into Child Abuse. However, the bishop confirms Voss’s belief his friend was one who spoke up against it, so why would someone do this. Eddie is reluctant to become involved, he has no use of the church for the way they treated him when his business was failing and Donna to thinks it is a bad idea. 

Voss might have to do this on his own.

Gillespie's Gold on Sale next week.

Gillespies Gold goes on to sale November 20th 

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This long awaited follow up novel to Terry L Probert's KUNDELA is now ready for release and early reviewers a extolling Probert's capacity as a storyteller.

Following on from Kundela, this new story is as much a stand alone Aussie action adventure as it is a continuation of the Gillespie family's fortunes as they battle to save their farm from mining giant RAYDOR.

Set in and around Orroroo on the edge of the Flinders Ranges. Haunted by a rhyme his father made him learn as a toddler Joe Gillespie is anxious. Too mean for fatherhood and too drunk to care, Les used cruelty the reinforce his words taking the horror of a few tours of Vietnam for Joe to replace those terrors.

Now forty years after burying the man he despised, Joe is looking at this gold receipt, memorising the first verse of the poem, desperate to remember the rest of it. Joe scours his mind for a hidden meaning, was there gold? Did Les bury it, or was this just one more after death trick to torture his son?

What the beta readers said:

Sonia Doherty, Wordsmiths of Melton

The family connection:

• You showed real relationships where everything didn’t go smoothly, they argued, they had fun as couples and families.
• Demonstrated their love in front of others, and were connected in more than just name.
• All of the friendships made the story interesting and were portrayed as reality.
• Every character had a past that affected their part in the story, some good, some not so good
• The good guys took responsibility for their lives, the bad ones blamed others.
• The bad guys were ones you really didn’t like, so you portrayed them well.

I love the way you brought the various plots together in the police station, by connecting past cases with this current case and how there were good people along the way who wanted to do the right thing. You ended the story with hope for the future

The lessons this story taught:

·         Give people an opportunity to share their story.

·         Forgiveness will help you.

·         Have no regrets

·         here’s always another adventure out there to explore.

It was enjoyable Terry; you’re a good storyteller.

Denise Lang, independent reviewer, Maryborough. Victoria

Morning Terry,

Well I finished your novel at 1.25 am this morning. You continue to amaze me with your amazing ability to consume the reader. I can seriously visualise the story unfolding around me, the detail you incorporate actually makes you feel like you're in the book. Kept guessing right to the end, this work encompasses the Australian way.

On another note, I liked the way you left it open for the next venture. Congratulations on another great literary piece.

Regards,

Denise

Old Story Ideas Brought Back to Life

When I first started to write I bubbled with ideas so much so it drove one of my contemporaries mad. She was struggling to make her novel happen at the time and I being new to a writing group was showing off, saying things like, "just get the words down and worry about the punctuation and sentence structure later."

It may have been of no use to my colleague, a woman who is perfect at creating a sentence and placing a comma, but to me it made sense because my ideas disappear as quickly as they come. However, I did realise that if I were to improve my writing, I would need to expand my author's toolbox and so over the last few years have taken notice of what an active sentence is, where a comma is needed and where to place a full stop. I still get it wrong, but the editing is now less of a chore than it once was.

Getting back to looking through some of my plans from those early days has unearthed some treasures though and by changing the detective’s names, this is one that should make its way into a Detective Voss novel.

The Desk Clerk’s Diary

Mario Modetti keeps secrets, many secrets. He is a desk clerk in an inner city Melbourne Hotel with an International and famous Australian clientele.

Among the regular guests are Pilots, cabin staff, Government officials and Casino high rollers.

Sunday morning a maid enters the room of a Kazakhstani business man to find him and two high price escorts bound and gagged. A Polaroid photo designed to shame is discovered fixed to the mirror with toothpaste.

Detective Inspector  Rose Nguyen is in charge of the investigation, but at every turn she is stymied by bureaucracy.

Chapter Outlines:

1.    The guests are discovered and no-one is talking

2.    DI Rosie Nguyen (Rosie) is on the case

3.    Across town a wholesale jeweler is found at his still locked safe with two bullet holes one in from the side of his chest the other in the back of his head. (was he alone? Where is his wife? Does his mistress know anything)

4.    Another murder in rural Shepparton, this time a known drug dealer with International connections.

5.    Are they random murders or connected.

6.    Journalist Rob Nugent is sniffing around and has picked up a connection

7.    Rosie, frustrated by Nugent pushes him away

8.    The trip to Shepparton for an exhumation finds another unknown body buried below the coffin of a drug boss just below the bottom of the same grave.

A novel length story will need more than eight chapters to wrap up this investigation but it does give me a start. Therefore, when the writing slows down on my current work in progress, I can duck over to this tale and create a much bigger yarn.

Wish me luck.

Bang

I knew my target and knew the time he would arrive. The Awards Presentation would be crowded and people lining the red carpet would work to my advantage.

Television crews were everywhere and it was easy to blend in, my only concern was the occupants of room five, fifteen. From there an easy shot, of four hundred metres and the carpet offered excellent alignment.

Checking the apartment mail boxes revealed Faith and Cindy McLeod lived in 515. I posted Logies tickets to them on a ruse that they had won an in-store competition. The girls would be out of their apartment by noon and not return before midnight. Once inside, all I had to do was wait.

Dressed as one of the hotel's handymen I found the fifth floor and picked the pocket of a housemaid for her pass to gain access, throwing the item into the passage near her trolley. At one o’clock the girls left via the lift at the end of the hall.

Once inside, I took a towel from my bag and laid it on the table. I  assembled the rifle and pulled a cleaner through the barrel. A quick look down the bore and attached the scope. I filled the five shot magazine and put a cartridge in the chamber.

I shifted furniture, to ensure I was comfortable, and opened a small gap in front window. There was nothing between my position and where the target would take his last breath.

I closed the window. At 2.30 the phone rang, I ignored it. By 3.30, I heard people in the hall, but they walked on. I kept the television muted and watched reporters accosting celebrities who were making their way to the ceremony.

At 5.00 pm I opened the window again and took up my position. Flags hung listless from their poles, no wind, that would help. I lined up a couple of guests who were about the same height as Finch.

A stretch Hummer arrived at 5.10 and he and his escort stepped out. I whispered a curse, the limo blocked my view. I cocked the rifle, slid the safety off and waited. The Hummer glided away. He was clear, I squeezed the trigger and watched the bullet take its mark.

My contract fulfilled. I packed the rifle, put the furniture back and sauntered out.