“ This is crime fiction as dazzling entertainment, sustained by writing as skilfully light-footed as Fred Astaire ”
Sunday Times Crime Club, Star Pick
“ A crime story that keeps you up into the small hours… a page-turning mystery ”
“ Clever ”
“ One of the most creative writers in the country today ”
“ Anthony Horowitz gets away with murder in all sorts of ways and emerges triumphant ”
The Times, Books of the Year
“ Huge fun… It’s hard to know why anyone who loves a good mystery wouldn’t thoroughly enjoy the ride ”
October 29, 2018
November 15, 2018
December 15, 2018
November 29, 2018
Usually, I enjoy visiting film sets. I love the excitement of seeing so many professional people working together – at a cost of tens of thousands of pounds – to create a vision that will have begun perhaps nine or ten months ago inside my head. I love being part of it all.
But this time it was different. I’d overslept and left home in a hurry. I couldn’t find my phone. I had the beginnings of a headache. Even as I got out of the car on that damp October morning, I knew that I’d made a mistake and that all in all I would have been better off staying in bed.
It was a big day. We were shooting one of the opening scenes in the seventh series of Foyle’s War – the first appearance of Sam Stewart, Foyle’s driver. Played by Honeysuckle Weeks, she had become a stalwart of the series and she was one of my favourite actors. When I wrote lines for her, I could always hear her saying them. The new season would find her married, out of the police force, working now for a nuclear scientist. I had decided to give her a big entrance and I wanted to be there to show my support.
This is what I had written.