M.C.J. Palmer
Peter Dunne constantly recalls every insult and humiliation people have caused him over the years. Going about his everyday life he shows his sensitivity, his romantic side and his typical male attitude but hidden deep within himself, there is a personality change attached to a forever smouldering fuse. With thoughts ceaselessly dwelling on revenge, he waits for the opportune moment to settle his scores. How he will debase and execute his tormentors on his list once they are all captured is immaterial; it is vengeance he greatly desires ……… no matter what!
Managing a furniture store was far too boring as he watched life uneventfully passing him by so he gave it all up to spend seventeen years travelling abroad. He bought a horse in Spain and rode every day for twelve months, ran a duck farm in Andalucia, left to work for a while in the heart of Paris and then back to Spain again as a holiday rep on the Costa del Sol. He then moved to Peru where he started up a travel agency, taught computer programming, taught English and managed an international golf club.
On returning to the UK he enrolled at University and studied to be a teacher. Three years later, he became an ICT teacher and then Head of the Computer Department for an Independent School. Unfortunately, two minor strokes forced him to retire early and, after nearly four long years slowly recovering at home, he decided to write a book. He was going to write an autobiography about his travels but opted to write fiction instead.
Nowadays, he enjoys computer programming, gardening and walking the dog; a far cry from horse-riding in Spain, night-clubbing wherever there was a night club and generally having as much fun in life as possible. His only regret is not having enough time to write before but he does have thirty exhilarating years of experience to draw upon when it comes to writing romance and thrillers.
“I’m worried about the groundsman,” Peter said to Max.
“Don’t be,” Max assured him, “If he comes round today or tomorrow you will answer the door and invite him to the kitchen. Be as pleasant as you can. We don’t want to cause any suspicions. Tell him that you have guests staying here for a while. Say that they’re business people and that they’re here for relaxation so they’re not to be disturbed.”
“Or he’ll get his head blown off,” interrupted Ron.
“Tell him that you do not require his services,” Max continued, choosing to ignore Ron, “But you are quite willing to let him continue looking after your sheep and he can also graze his as long as he uses the track that goes up the far side. On no account do we want him anywhere near the house. He is not to use the main drive. He should know that, along the main road, there is a small gate to the track.” It was evident that Max had given it a great deal of thought.
“Do I charge him for the use of the fields? I mean, he won’t be working here anymore,” Peter asked, thinking he was making a valid observation.
“Bloody hell, Pete,” Gerry butted in, “Haven’t you heard of give a little? We don’t want to upset this bugger so let him graze his woolly bastards for free for now. And don’t forget you’ve got sheep up there as well.”
“We may take a lamb chop or two, though,” mused Ron.
“Also, make it known that his wife or fancy bit whoever she is, as from effect, is not needed here anymore,” said Max, again ignoring the interruptions, “When you’ve finished, see him out the side entrance and remind him only to use the boundary track in future. If he wants to discuss anything further, he is to telephone the house rather than come here. And for Christ’s sake, take any house keys they may have. If he has them at his house, tell him you’ll pick them up when you’re passing. Is that understood, Pete?”
Peter nodded in agreement but then asked, “What if he doesn’t agree to all that?”
“Then he and his missus will simply disappear. Do you want them added onto the list? I mean, we can put them into the cages as well,” said Max dryly.
“What cages?” Peter asked with a puzzled frown.
“The best is yet to come, Pete,” Gerry said with a slight smirk as he returned with a fresh bottle of whiskey from the drinks cabinet in a corner of the room. He then walked round and dutifully replenished all the glasses.
“Go on, tell him about the cages, Max,” egged Ron.
