A promiscuous government minister puts at peril the prospects of his party at the polls when a young woman who works in his office dies in his bed. When he calls two bumbling assistants to remove the inconvenient corpse things go from bad to worse. Edgar Hodgkiss, who by chance is waiting at the police station to meet his son-in-law, Detective Inspector Donald Burke, overhears a conversation between a sergeant and a complaining citizen. Then he sees a distinctive sports car being brought in for forensic examination. From these two tenuous threads Hodgkiss untangles a seedy web of deceit and…mehr
A promiscuous government minister puts at peril the prospects of his party at the polls when a young woman who works in his office dies in his bed. When he calls two bumbling assistants to remove the inconvenient corpse things go from bad to worse. Edgar Hodgkiss, who by chance is waiting at the police station to meet his son-in-law, Detective Inspector Donald Burke, overhears a conversation between a sergeant and a complaining citizen. Then he sees a distinctive sports car being brought in for forensic examination. From these two tenuous threads Hodgkiss untangles a seedy web of deceit and corruption going to the very highest level of government. Hodgkiss is something of a purist when it comes to cricket. Fieldsmen should not stand about with their hands in their pockets and they certainly should not all run into the wicket to congratulate the bowler every time a wicket falls. So when a fast bowler dies mysteriously Hodgkiss knows where to look for the killer. Pat Strong invites Hodgkiss to go with her to visit a friend in the country. She knows Hodgkiss is no lover of the rural life and is likely to refuse. So she dangles a bait. The town has been plagued with a rash of nasty poison pen letters and things are getting bad. Hodgkiss can't resist the call. When they arrive Hodgkiss finds that his reputation as an investigator has preceded him. He is soon swept along in the bitter undercurrents that are dividing the little town. Even as they leave, with the problem solved apparently, Hodgkiss has a moment of doubt.
Peter Sinclair has spent most of his working life writing. He began reporting courts and councils in rural Orange (NSW) in the late 1950s then worked briefly for The Sydney Daily Telegraph where, because of his fluent shorthand, he was sentenced first to report local councils then banished to the Coroner's Court.He'd had enough of sudden death and murder when opportunity knocked and he joined the staff of a new, large weekly paper in Sydney's northern suburbs, The North Shore Times where he was soon reporting councils again.In 1965, he climbed over the journalistic fence to work as press secretary for a succession of NSW cabinet ministers (both Liberal and Labor) until 1991. Since then, he has made guest reappearances to help out in the PR sections of government departments.His absorbing hobby is playing the piano. He has made a number of CDs in very limited editions. The titles tell it all: Peter Murders Mozart, Wrecks Rachmaninoff and Desecrates Debussy. He says he gives them away to people he doesn't like!He has been married to Margaret for fifty-seven years and they have two sons; Sam, who is married to Carolyn with one son, Harry, 18, and Patrick who is married to Beejai with twin boys, Jackson and Zachary, aged 13.
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