The Hanging Man Investigation by GB Williams

The Hanging Man Investigation is the second book of the Atkins and Palmers Psychic Mystery series, and my favourite because of one of the surprises that comes in early the book.

The extract below is the start of Chapter One, I’ve picked this because it showcases three of the main characters, DS Madoc Palmer the pagan who reads tarot and can talk to the dead, the dead man he’s talking to, and Detective Inspector Ruth Atkins, who is going through a tough time in this book.

Following on from the end of The Queen of Cups Murders, this book deals with the police procedure of investigation with a little help from the supernatural, and the personal lives of those investigating.

***

Palmer

Well, this is all a bit on the nose.

The woman swung gently from the noose.

An unhappy reminder of the tarot card he had drawn that morning.

The Hanging Man.

As part of the major arcana, despite its disturbing imagery, the card indicated outside influences. Something in his life needed changing, but couldn’t currently be changed.

He guessed it was prodding him about his relationship with Ruth. It was a tricky situation.

The secrets he was keeping made it trickier. He should tell her. But how could he explain now and not appear an arse for his failure to be honest from the start?

That was just pride, he knew.

Of course, the card could have a wider meaning, something outside himself.

He looked up at the woman hanging in the barn.

May the Goddess guide you on your journey.

The rope creaked with every shift. A body in motion will remain in motion until acted upon by an outside force. Right now, gravity wasn’t force enough to keep this woman still as a CSI worked the crime scene that was the body. The forensics cordon covered the whole barn while the CSI team worked inside. For once, the smell of defecation that was part of death was lost — under the smell of manure. Madoc wasn’t sure it was an improvement.

They’re like maggots crawling over a corpse.

*You are one sick bunny.*

The voice of his passenger sounded like a man standing at his shoulder, but it was all in his head. Madoc had received messages from the other side all his life, but for the last two months, this voice had been the clearest ever.

This man was dead. He knew it, and he could only speak to Madoc. The first time he had spoken was the first time Madoc had experienced the full and frightening implications of his psychic sensitivities.

Madoc referred to him as his ‘passenger’ because the man lived in his head at all times, even the inconvenient ones. He refused to supply Madoc with his name. Madoc refused to make him at home.

*I’m already at home in your head, like it or not.*

A depressing truth.

*Besides, you need to finish making your own home before you make one for anyone else.*

Normally, he ignored the man in work, but today, with Ruth off, he was almost glad of the company.

The chapel conversion is moving on as fast as I can get it done.

Which wasn’t as fast as he’d like, but building wasn’t his day job, investigation was. Normally with Ruth.

*She’ll be okay,* his passenger said.

She’s already dead, Madoc silently pointed out.

*Not the vic.* The scorn in the tone was acrid. *Ruth.*

Stop using words like ‘vic’. You’re no police officer. Were you?

*No, and okay, the victim is dead. But not exactly by choice.*

Now Madoc frowned. “How do you know?”

The nearest of the CSIs looked up. Under all that white, Madoc couldn’t be sure who it was. A nod was exchanged, then the other returned to their work.

Remembering to internalise the question, Madoc asked his passenger how he knew this wasn’t suicide.

*Because she told me.*

Can she tell you—

*No. She was barely around long enough to tell me she was coerced. There wasn’t time for more. Now she’s gone.*

Shame.

*Well, I’m not here to make your life easier.*

I had noticed.

A raspberry only Madoc could hear was blown.

Why are you here?

*That’s what you’re supposed to figure out, Sherlock.*

Madoc sighed. The voice was not a welcome addition to his life. That the guy did so little to help him identify who he was was far from helpful.

“Big sigh there, Detective Sergeant Palmer.”

Madoc looked down at the woman who had appeared unexpectedly by his side. Dressed as usual in Doc Martens, black trousers, white top and an oversized leather jacket, she wore her hair in a bun, used no makeup, and looked tired. “Detective Inspector Atkins,” he greeted Ruth, doing his best to be professional. “I thought you were off today.”

“I was,” she admitted, looking at the suspended body. “Then I got a call. Now I’m working.”

***

Available in paperback and ebook, find it here.

With more books in the series underway, keep up with all that’s going on by getting a free book and signing up for my newsletter.

Thanks

GBW