Published by Flame Tree Press on December 6, 2018
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Rookie barrister George Winsome, young and arrogant, defends an old boy who thinks he’s Merlin on a manslaughter charge. The riotous trial turns Merlin into a celebrity; money, greed and ambition take hold of George and his partner Heather until the secret of Merlin’s past is revealed as the spirit of Saint Yves intervenes to ensure George and Heather follow their true paths. ‘Kosmos’ is a modern-day jury trial, a feel-good love story and a spiritual journey involving Saint Yves, Nemesis and Merlin. FLAME TREE PRESS is the new fiction imprint of Flame Tree Publishing. Launching in 2018 the list brings together brilliant new authors and the more established; the award winners, and exciting, original voices.
Today I have the pleasure of welcoming Adrian Laing to my blog, with an excerpt from his book Kosmos. The book cover I must say looks AMAZING! Be sure to check it out below!
So we know the drill, I like to see what has been said so far on the tour!
Don Jimmy Reviews says
I had gone into this book expecting a wild and humorous ride, and while it is still that, it is so much more. What we have here is a heartwarming tale of redemption, with an absolutely fantastic array of characters, that I already miss, and a brilliantly plotted story, I have to admit. I loved it.
Ok call me intrigued!! Now gimme the excerpt!
George sniffed the still-cold morning air, put on his most serious barrister face, pulled open the door to the station, puffed himself out, and walked up to the officer in charge, bristling with confidence. “I trust my client is still in one piece, otherwise you’ll be sweeping the streets like the rest of your family,” George announced to everyone. The duty sergeant had heard it all before and couldn’t be bothered with the antics of yet another arrogant young member of the Bar. His time would come, eventually. “Mr. Winsome. What a pleasure. Yes, old Merlin. He’s in suite 101. Been waiting for you. Ring the bell for room service, won’t you?” “Suite 101? I hope the view is the same as in the brochure, otherwise I’ll need to file a formal complaint.” “Watkins. Take Mr. Winsome to the executive suite on the lower floor.” “Sure, Sarge. This way, please, sir.” George always felt sick walking down into prison cells. Always. It wasn’t the smell. It was just the feeling incarceration induced.
PC 2150, or Watkins as he was known, selected one key from the assorted bunch dangling from his trouser pocket and turned it this way and that, before pushing the cell door open to reveal a now familiar image of a darkened room, eight feet by ten, one heavy wooden board covered in seditious graffiti underneath the small dirty window, and a lonely soul looking like a refugee from a fancy-dress party that had gone pear-shaped, sitting on the edge of the seat, which was often used for sleeping, his head in his hands. George had been briefed, as promised, by Sam Leggitt.
The few pieces of A4-size paper folded vertically in half and wrapped around with lashings of red tape hadn’t taken long to read, and told a rather sad story of an old man who had been arrested at about six a.m., Wednesday, the 20th of September 2000, on Hampstead Heath following a fracas with two dog patrollers, one of whom had slightly injured his back and was now off work. The medical report had not yet been submitted. The defendant had been interviewed by the police, who informed the duty solicitor – Sam Leggitt – who managed to spend five minutes or so with ‘Merlin’, the name given to the police by the old man, and had advised his client to say nothing. Little damage had been done. The old boy had said very little. On his charge sheet his name was simply recorded as ‘Merlin’. Under the heading ‘Reason for Arrest’ it was stated that he had ‘assaulted a dog patroller over Hampstead Heath causing actual bodily harm’.
The door slammed behind George and he sat down at the other end of the bench, carefully placing his c
George surveyed his immediate territory. Unusually peaceful. The client was quiet, perhaps too quiet. Sitting at one end of the bench with his head in his hands, his thin long
He looked scruffy and disheveled. His shoes, being no more than thin leather moccasins, must give little protection from cold concrete, thought George. He looked quickly at the charge sheet to confirm the only item that had been removed at the time of arrest was a wooden staff. It was time to break the ice. “Er, Mr. Merlin. Are you all right? My name is George Winsome. I am your counsel – your barrister, instructed by your solicitor, Sam Leggitt, who I understand you met on the day of your arrest. I will be representing you in court this morning. We only have a few minutes before we go upstairs to the magistrates’ court. If you want me to make a bail application then I’ll need some basic information. You told the police that your name is Merlin. Is that your real name? I need your help, please.”
The sobbing recommenced with fresh
“As I was saying,
Wow I am loving this! Cannot believe that is all we get!!
Thanks to Anne at Random Things Tours for the tour invite and the Publisher and the author for an excerpt from the book.