First in the Ratso Series

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"Gripping, action-packed thriller that pierces the fabric of the sporting world.”


Best-Selling Thriller Writer

Voted by WH Smith readers: The Best Crime Author Of All Time

2016: Crime Writers’ Association Diamond Dagger Winner

DEAD FIX, the second in the Det. Insp. Todd “Ratso” Holtom series is now available in paperback and as an e-book – see details below.

"In Dead Fix, Douglas Stewart takes you as close as you'll want to get to the high-stakes, high risk world of top level match fixing."


Best-Selling author of SANCTUS – a trilogy

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DEADLINE VEGAS, a stand-alone thriller is also close to publication (Coming Soon) in paperback and as an e-book.

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Just Published on Kindle
The Dallas Dilemma – The Book a Drug Giant Wanted Banned.

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The Prequel is under 30 pages long and introduces Det. Insp. Todd "Ratso" Holtom, a London detective who features in a series of international mystery thrillers. Ratso is in Monte Carlo tracking a London drug baron who is aboard his superyacht for dirty business. Ratso's groundwork leads into the dramatic action at the start of Hard Place, a full length thriller set in London, the Bahamas, the USA, Spain and Cyprus.

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Alistair Duncan Series And My Backlist

Endeavour Media of London has now published six books from my backlist, starting with the Alistair Duncan trilogy.


About Ratso


Det. Inspector Todd “Ratso” Holtom
Metropolitan Police, London, UK
– in his own words.


Look mate! Nicknames go with the territory as a detective in the Met Police. I’m no exception. Yeah, yeah, I get tired of being asked how I got to be Ratso. Some of the lads guess that I was into the little darlings like a rat up a drainpipe. Well, maybe there was some truth in that. I mean what red-blooded guy’s going to turn up the chance? But that wasn’t how the nickname started. Neither do I look like a bleedin’ rodent as some cheeky sods might say! The truth involved a derelict building, a sick bastard with a sawn-off and my love of cricket. Work that one out for yourself!


Me? Wear Armani? Gucci? Give me a break! I’m suspicious of colleagues in snappy suits and designer shoes. You’d feel a right berk chasing a drug-dealer and worrying about splashing your loafers! Me? I wear lifestyle gear – leather jackets, windcheaters or black denim.


Yeah! I knew you’d ask my age! Well I’ll admit to late thirties and see – no receding hair-line.


Cheeky! I don’t use Just-for-Men. Not needed. ! It’s brown, real and all home-grown! Yeah and I always went for the Caesar-style ever since school in South London. And you’re right – I do like to keep in shape. – cricket, gym and jogging.


What? A face like it’s been chiselled by a drunken stonemason? Who told you that? They’d better watch out! Craggy? Okay, I’ll give you that. Manly … that’s what I’d call it. Done me okay with the little ravers in the clubs or when facing down an evil sod with a machete. Give me craggy over pink-and-well-scrubbed any day! Free-wheeling? Yeah, I’d grant you that. Free-spirit too. Don’t get me wrong. I’m no loner but I like being alone, time to think, y’know? As a Detective Inspector that’s a plus, I can tell you.


Serious? Well if you mean about nicking villains, I’ll drink a Guinness to that. Or maybe a glass or two of Rioja. There was this little number I met in Ibiza. Well, she reckoned  I gave away smiles like they was fifty quid notes! Doesn’t mean I don’t like a laugh, a joke, a party and a right old piss-up after some villains get sent down at the Bailey.


No, they were right about that. I don’t rant, shout and swear like some Celebrity Chef. Don’t get me wrong – the team know who’s the boss. I have my own way of dishing out aright good bollocking.


Nah, I’ve never been married. I always tell ’em – be warned – I’m married to the job … oh plus there’s my sport and supporting Fulham down at Craven Cottage. My relationships never last – too many cancelled dates. Especially when I worked undercover. That’s the best and worst of loving the job. Nearly done are we? Okay. One more then. I’ve a meeting with the AC up at the Yard.


Yeah! I like a joke – well except for Chief Inspector Arthur bloody Tennant. Piss-poor joke he is. Waste of space. Here’s a joke for you. A Desk Sergeant asks this cokehead: “How high are you?” The cokehead replies “No, man! It’s… Hi! How are you?”