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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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HARD PLACE, the first in the Det. Insp. Todd “Ratso” Holtom series is now available as a 2nd edition in paperback and as an e-book.

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DEAD FIX, the second in the Det. Insp. Todd “Ratso” Holtom series will be published on 28th January 2018 in paperback and as an e-book – see details below

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DEADLINE VEGAS, a stand-alone thriller is also close to publication (Spring 2018) in paperback and as an e-book.

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CASE FOR COMPENSATION. Endeavour Press of London have just released my first ever book published in 1980! It is one of a series of three about Bristol lawyer Alistair Duncan.

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MY BACKLIST

Endeavour Press of London has now started publishing a selection of my previous books, starting with Case for Compensation. The others will appear over the next few months.

 

About Ratso

Ratso

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

Answer:

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!

Answer:

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.

Answer:

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

Answer:

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.

Answer:

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.

Answer:

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.

Answer:

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.

Answer:

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.

Answer:

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?”