Today is my stop on the blog tour for Overkill by Vanda Symon. Today I have an excerpt, have a wee read and let me know what you think. Have you read it? Please check out the other stops on the tour (see below) as we all host different content.
I never used to be about book covers but either they have really upped their game in the last few years or I am just starting to pay more attention, how good is this cover!
And you lucky lucky people, here is a wee excerpt from the book:
Once
again, I pulled up outside the Knowes’ house, and once again I parked on the
grass verge, taking care not to end up in the ditch. I paused at the gate to
take in the deceptively tranquil scene before me. Only the presence of several
other vehicles in the driveway, including a rather impressive new Range Rover,
signalled that all was not as normal. That vehicle had to belong to Gaby’s
mother – I’d heard Gaby’s family were well-to-do. Her parents had moved to
Queenstown from Auckland to be closer to her when she married Lockie. Her
father was a company executive and flew back up north each week when needed.
Nice for some.
Gravel crunched underfoot as I walked back up the
driveway. This time, no one came out to meet me. I stepped up onto the veranda
and rang the doorbell. It was only a moment before I could make out a distorted
shape through the stained-glass panelled door. It was Colin Avery.
‘Sam,’ Cole said, swinging the
door open wide to let me in.
I bent over to take off my boots.
‘How’s things this morning?’
‘Much as can be expected.’
‘That bad, huh?’
‘Yup.’
‘Thanks for staying with them. Lockie needed a mate
around. What time did Gaby’s mum get here?’
‘Only quarter of an hour after you left.’ He paused
for a moment and waited until I was next to him. ‘It was a very late night for
us all.’
‘What’s her name, by the way?’ I
asked.
‘Leonore. Leonore Watson.’
At the entrance to the lounge I stopped, aghast. I
wouldn’t have recognised it as the same room. Where last night there had been
pandemonium, this morning there was pristine order. There was a s
mall pile of Angel’s puzzle
pieces, but otherwise the room – the whole house – was lemon-scented spotless.
Someone had been very industrious. They still were, judging by the muffled
sound of a distant vacuum cleaner.
‘Wow, who’s been busy?’ I asked Cole, who’d
followed me into the room.
‘Leonore. She’s been on the go,
non-stop, since she got up.’
‘I’m glad I took all those photos last night,’ I
said as I took in a scene more House
& Garden than family home. I had in fact toyed with the idea of leaving
it until the morning. That would have been a major faux pas. Any trace of
evidence looked like it would have been well and truly sanitised. I made a
mental note to self for future reference: by the book, Sunshine, absolutely by
the book. The higher echelons in the district office were applying constant
pressure to justify my existence here. Resources in the force were limited, and
stretching the budget by reducing the number of small stations was an obvious
cost cutter. Pencilling in more hours on traffic duty was another. I cringed.
It wouldn’t do to make it easy for them by making basic errors.
I could understand where Leonore Watson was coming
from; I had witnessed exactly the same reaction in my mother in times of high
stress or tragedy. Busy, busy, busy. Clean, clean, clean. Do anything other
than accept the unfathomable had happened. Some people just operated that way.
My personal method for dealing with stress involved dressing gowns, slippers,
sofas and chocolate.
Involuntarily, I thought of my mother’s response if
I died. Despite her well-constructed façade, her grief would be a yawning
chasm, inexhaustible. Mrs Watson would be no different. I could only imagine
what that family were experiencing – I’d been fortunate, untouched by the death
of anyone really close.
I walked through the living room to the kitchen,
where Lockie stared off into space while he fed something mushy into Angel. The
poor girl had her mouth agape as she tried to track and apprehend the spoon.
Lockie had a bristle of growth on his chin that only emphasised the look of
desolation.
‘Lockie?’ He looked up, startled by the intrusion
on his thoughts. Once again, I was rocked by how hollowed out his eyes looked.
The terror from last night had been replaced by a haunted numbness. He gave a
brief jolt of recognition and then a brave smile at my greeting.
‘Sam, back again so soon?’
‘Afraid so. Had to see how you
all were.’
‘Bloody awful. Angel’s the only one who slept. My
wife’s dead, it’s all a bloody mess and it’s nothing I can fix.’ He raised his
hand to his mouth; large tears rolled down his cheeks. His brutal honesty did
nothing to ease my discomfort. I turned my eyes away towards Angel.
‘God, Lockie, I’m sorry,’ I said, and realised
instantly how useless those words really were. ‘I know this is not a good time,
but I do have to ask you some more questions, and we need to do it while
everything is fresh. I’m going to go and have another look around outside now
it’s daylight. I’ll be fifteen minutes or so, then I’ll come back and we’ll go
over things. You can do that?’
He drew
my eyes with a look of resignation and weariness. ‘Yeah, of course. Angel’s
almost finished.’ He sighed and managed
to get
another spoonful into her mouth. ‘Everything seems to take so long. She wants
her mother, not me. She won’t let me do hardly anything for her, not even brush
her hair.’
I looked at her beautiful tousled curls. ‘She’ll be
wondering where Mummy is, why she’s not here. It’s huge for you all.’
Everything I said felt so inadequate. ‘Look, I’ll go and do what I have to do
outside, then I’ll be back soon to talk.’
‘Do you want Gaby’s mum there as
well?’
‘Please. We’ll try and get through everything in
one go, then we’ll be able to leave you…’ I didn’t finish the sentence; I
didn’t know what to say. Leave you in peace, alone, leave you to grieve, leave
you to wonder, blame, tear yourself apart? I left him with the best I could
offer: a shrug and a gentle hand on his shoulder.
If you like the sound of the book you can buy your own copy of Overkill by Vanda Symon, from Amazon (also available in bookstores) by clicking here. Available in both kindle and paperback format.
