The Great British Fake Housing Crisis, Part 4 - Scantlebury, Mike
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It's not many 'Mickey from Manchester' thriller detective novels that have Mickey flat on his back from Chapter 3. Worse, he is in shock. and doesn't even remember his name. Meanwhile his girlfriend Melia is staying at his house, recovering from a terrifying ordeal that Mickey previously rescued her from. It's no help to her Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder that some of the perpetrators turn up on her doorstep. Not fully recovered, she has enough wits about her to turn the tables on the arrogant, self-assured little no-good teenagers. With the help of her old pal Terry, she soon has them on the…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
It's not many 'Mickey from Manchester' thriller detective novels that have Mickey flat on his back from Chapter 3. Worse, he is in shock. and doesn't even remember his name. Meanwhile his girlfriend Melia is staying at his house, recovering from a terrifying ordeal that Mickey previously rescued her from. It's no help to her Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder that some of the perpetrators turn up on her doorstep. Not fully recovered, she has enough wits about her to turn the tables on the arrogant, self-assured little no-good teenagers. With the help of her old pal Terry, she soon has them on the run, and even one of their Dads turns up to apologise on their behalf. The hospital in Salford is crowded during this tale, when another major character suffers a life-changing fall. With two combatants in nearby beds, the mystery doesn't look it will get solved anytime soon, until Mickey's oldest friend Don Fellowes steps in. Still, there is some more good news. The victims in the hospital beds appear to have inherited massive numbers of shares from the biggest property development firm in Salford. If they ever get back on their feet, they will be rich. And important.
Autorenporträt
Mickey is from Manchester, and he's a Tough Guy. My name is Mike Scantlebury and I'm the author. I'm not a tough guy, I'm more like an opal, small and perfectly formed. But - more bad news, and worse than that - I'm from Bristol, which is a small, historic port in South West England. It's only claim to fame is that people sailed from there in the 15th century and discovered America. Oh, yeah, well, that is quite a Big Thing, isn't it? But that's the deceptive part of the whole story. I live in Salford now, across the river from the big Northern city of Manchester. My 'Manchester' is not like anyone else's, and if you think you know Manchester - maybe from reading other books set there, or seeing the place on films or on television - I need you to know that. Things aren't always what they seem, are they? Luckily, Manchester has Mickey, which means, fortunately for them, that whenever something bad happens, (and it does, regularly), they've got someone who is going to come in, do The Right Thing, and clear up the mess. Not every town can say that now, can they?