Death Of An Angel – Derek Farrell @DerekIFarrell @fahrenheitpress @damppebbles

 

“A woman is found dead in a London street – the evidence suggests she plummeted to her death from a nearby tower block – but did she fall or was she pushed? And why does she have Danny Bird’s name written on the back of her hand?

So begins this 4th magnificent outing for Danny and the gang from The Marq.

In the frame for a murder he didn’t commit, London’s self-proclaimed Sherlock Homo has no choice but to don his metaphorical deerstalker one more time to prove his innocence and uncover the truth about the tragic death of Cathy Byrne. 

With the indomitably louche Lady Caz by his side, Danny plunges headlong into a complex investigation while at the same time trying to be a dutiful son to his increasingly secretive parents, and still find the time to juggle his frustratingly moribund love-life.”

 

Bonjour tout les mondes and the heartiest of hearty welcomes to a very special blog tour post. Why is it so special? Thank you so much for asking – such a polite reader. I shall tell you why:

Today I welcome you to the very first Beardy Book Blog Players play. I know right? HOW exciting is that? But who are the BBBP, and, most importantly of all, why?

Both excellent questions, so let me enlighten you.

It was a dark and rainy night, a Thursday I think. It may have been a Wednesday, but it definitely wasn’t a Monday or a Tuesday. Or a Friday. The weekend is most certainly out, so I guess that leaves Thursday. So, it was a dark and rainy night on a Thursday… No, wait, it was a Tuesday. Yes, I remember now because it was Trunks Tuesday, where we wear our swimming trunks and play with our… er… you don’t need to know that.

So.

It was a dark and rainy Tuesday when I had a brilliant idea. I thought, wouldn’t it be a great wheeze to put on a play of one of my favourite books of this year, Death Of An Angel by Derek Farrell? It was ripe, ripe I tell you, for adapting into a play. It is chock full of drama, great humour, pathos, wit and charm, packs one hell of a story and is full of brilliant and memorable characters. Unfortunately, there was big snaggaroo; with my very busy schedule and lack of any playwriting skills, I didn’t feel equipped to adapt it. After a bit of asking around I was given the number of Fabian, who had written a play once; he adapted a pamphlet about avoiding and treating verrucas for his local medical centre when they had a load of swimmers in after a particularly nasty outbreak of verrucas, and so I felt he was up to the task. I popped around to the address I was given and knocked on his door. Once I had explained why I was stood in the rain wearing only swimming trunks, and I had also explained the same to the police officer after the nosey neighbour in the flat above complained, and then calmed down a particularly irate elderly man who had an attack of the vapours on his way back from the chemist, causing him to drop his prescription viagra into the drain thus ruining his evening with the nosey neighbour upstairs, I won Fabian over and he agreed to write the script. Job done. Now I needed a cast.

To save you the agony of me recapping every detail of this endeavour, I rounded up the few people I knew who I felt would bring Derek’s characters to life and do justice to his wonderful, witty and deeply moving book. (basically I asked around the local bus stops as I don’t actually know anyone. It’s amazing what a pack of mint imperials and a box of Tunnocks tea cakes can buy you)

Now, it’s still in early form, please bear that in mind, but I’m so excited that I have decided to invite you all to the very first read-through and rehearsal. You lucky, lucky people.

Oh, I should point out that due to my above and aforementioned very busy schedule – it really is very busy, very busy indeed – I have not yet seen the script. This will be my first time. I am quite nervous about it, I have to admit, especially as you lot are here with me. But hey, what could possibly go wrong, eh?

Onwards…

The Cast:

Danny Bird – a publican

Lady Caroline Genevieve Victoria De Montfort (Caz) – posh bird

Paddy – a brother

Val – a sister

Marilyn (Maz) – a sister

Eddie – a man

DI Frank Reid – a copper

DC Nick Fisher – another copper

Dorothy Frost (Dot) – a lawyer

 

Hello there. You find the Beardy Book Blog Players in a small church hall. There are many chairs stacked up on either side, along with an assortment of mops and brooms, an old Christmas tree, a box of decorations, a unicycle with no wheel, a bag of deflated leather footballs, an old tea urn and various other bits of tut. The rear of the hall has been cleared and there are two large noticeboards on castors on either side of the hall to act as wings. The rest of the cast bustle about behind them. I am the director, hello, and as such I have my own chair front and centre of the stage. It has my name on it “Matrin”. Ah, well, I’ll get that corrected later. Don’t worry, I promise that it will be better on the opening night. We’ll have a curtain and everything. It’s red. Well, reddish; it’s been in the sun for a few months.

TBBB: Ok, Hello everyone. You’ve all met Fabian to my right here…

Fabian: Er, hello.

TBBB: He is here to iron out any wrinkles, or to make any changes to, the script as we go along. Now, I shall read the script as is, stage directions and all, just so we can get a feel for how it is going. Oh, and I shall refer to you all by your character names as they appear in the book and thus script, just to avoid any confusion. Happy with that? Excellent. Ok, let’s begin the read-through. Eddie, are you in position?

EDDIE: (off stage) What?

TBBB: I said are you in position?

EDDIE: (off) Oh, yes. Well, I think so. Which position should I be in again?

TBBB: Um, in a position to walk on to the stage on your cue?

EDDIE: (Sticks an arm out from side of noticeboard and raises his thumb) Right. Gotcha.

TBBB: Excellent.

EDDIE: (off) Where’s the cue?

TBBB: The what?

EDDIE: (off) The cue? I don’t remember having one in the script. Has it changed? Am I off to play pool or snooker now? I thought…

TBBB: (sigh) No, the cue is your, er, cue to come on. Not an actual cue.

EDDIE: (off) Ohhh, haha, yeah, I see. Right. Ready.

TBBB: At last. I have a bad feeling about this….

FABIAN: Sorry?

TBBB: Oh, er, nothing. Right, everyone in their places. Let us begin.

Ext: Night: a South London street. Eddie, a man, is walking home from the pub….. I said, Eddie, a man, is walking home from the pub…. that is your cue, Eddie.

EDDIE: (off) Sorry, right.

TBBB: No problem, early days. Let’s go again. Eddie, a man, is walking home from the pub.

EDDIE: (strolling on from stage left) Cor blimey, what a night for it. All this snow is falling on me bonce. Wait, what is that I see (he looks up. A large white object falls from the ceiling and lands right in front of EDDIE). (leaping back) Jesus, that nearly hit me!

TBBB: Ok, ok, stop stop!! What in the hell was that? Eddie, why on earth are you talking like Phil Mitchell’s long lost brother? And why is there a large duvet filled with feathers on the floor in front of you. And, is that a face drawn onto it? Fabian?

FABIAN: Um, well, that’s the angel. The one that falls from the sky in front of Eddie? At the start of the book? The angel? That falls? Why are you looking at me like that?

TBBB: It is supposed to look like a woman, not an amorphous sack. Where was the dummy that you promised us? And why all the feathers? She wasn’t the daughter of Icarus.

FABIAN: Well, um, my mum needed the mannequin to finish a dress she was making for her niece’s wedding, so, I , er, couldn’t use it. I thought that this would do for now? The feathers are symbolic. Cos she’s an angel?

TBBB: She’s not an actual angel. She’s a poor woman who may, or may not, have been pushed to her death from a very high balcony of a tower block thus kicking off our story. Seriously, Fabian. And Eddie, what’s with the accent? You’re supposed to be someone who is struggling with mental health issues, angry at the kids who teased you earlier. Someone who witnesses the gruesome and untimely death of a woman right in front of his eyes. Not some jolly cockernee strolling jauntily through the sleet in a chirpy Dick Van Dyke stylee.

EDDIE: (mimicking) “Ello Mary Popp…

TBBB: Stop that!

EDDIE: Right. Sorry. So, I should be miserable then?

TBBB: Fabian, we need to address all of this in a future script revision.

FABIAN: Yes, right. I’ll get my pencil…

TBBB: Not now! After the read-through. We’ll have a sit down and go through any revisions. Just make notes in the margins for now.

FABIAN: Okay. I’ll still need to get…

TBBB: … your pencil, yes, yes, go on then. Right, and another thing; Eddie, what the hell is that thing on the wall behind you?

EDDIE: What, that’s a sheet? That’s what you said to use as a backdrop thing. Look, you can see the Shard on it there, and over there is the London Eye. My Alice painted those. Very proud of herself, she was. She’s considering taking it to school with her next week as Miss. Slattery thinks that she’s a very talented artist, considering she’s only 6. Um, that’s a piece of chocolate cake, but that’ll be gone by opening night. That’s a…

TBBB: Okay, yes, I get the picture. Thank you to Alice for creating such a believable backdrop…

EDDIE: Very talented, Miss. Slattery says.

TBBB: And I’m not disputing that, but when I said use a sheet, I didn’t mean use a fitted sheet. Look at it! It looks like a deflated beachball hanging up there. The edges are all curled round. The Shard is looking like it’s melted. Make sure you use a regular sheet next rehearsal, oh and a white sheet please.

EDDIE: Her mum will go mad when she finds out. It was mine and Alice’s secret. She made me promise not to tell. Ok, I’ll see what I can do.

TBBB: Good. Okay, look, let’s move on from this scene. It clearly needs more work. Also we need to sort out that rigging that drops the angel, er, woman from the ceiling. We can’t have Eddie murdered by a sack of feathers with a face drawn on it on opening night! This scene is a short one, but it is taken from the opening prologue where Eddie witnesses the murder, and as such it helps to set the scene for the rest of the book, therefore we need to get it right.

Let’s move swiftly on to the next scene from chapter 2 where we meet Danny and his siblings.

Okay, quick break whilst we, um, change the sheet.

Int: Day: The Marquess of Queensbury pub: A kitchen table is set in the centre of the stage. Around it sit DANNY, MARILYN (MAZ), PADDY and VAL. They are having a heated family meeting. There are several cups on the table. 

TBBB: Hold on, shouldn’t CAZ be in this scene?

MAZ: Well, I’m playing her too as the other CAZ had to drop out due to her ongoing dispute with her father’s neighbour’s brother’s uncle’s nephew’s sister’s little boy, Trevor. He mooned a bus load of nuns in…

TBBB: Okay, we don’t need to know details. She is Danny’s closest and best friend, she really should be here for this scene. Fab’s?

FABIAN: Fabian. I wrote a separate scene with just Danny and Caz to accommodate the change. It comes up next.

TBBB: Right, I guess that’s ok. (claps hands) places everyone. Let us continue sans CAZ.

Cue PADDY….

PADDY: (angrily) Dad’s definitely up to somefin’, int e? (he throws two sugar cubes aggressively into his tea). I mean, ‘e must be, ain’t he?

VAL: (shocked) Daddy? No, he would never do something like that to mother. How could you even say such a thing, Paddy.

MAZ: (huffily) He’s a bleedin’ bloke, ain’t ‘e? They’re all the bleedin’ same (spits on floor).

Sorry, sorry, but can I not spit on the floor, Fabian. It’s very unladylike and, well, rude. My mother will be watching this.

TBBB: Okay, okay, once again; what the hell is all this about? Why are you all still speaking as cockney geezers? They are not even cockneys as far as I’m aware. Fabian?

FABIAN: Well, I’ve never been to London and well, I , er, just assumed that’s how they all spoke down there. Also, their dad is a taxi driver you said, so I thought it would sound more authentic as all cabbies are cockneys, no?

TBBB: It sounds utterly ridiculous. Also, no they are not. Where’d you get that idea from? And don’t say ‘Minder’. It’s always ‘Minder’ with you.

FABIAN: It was a great TV show.

TBBB: Yes it was, but you cannot judge the whole of London and it’s inhabitants by it. Right, we may as well carry on. Look everyone, this is a very important part of the book. Let’s not mess it up. Continue.

VAL: (mumbling) Well, maybe dad isn’t the guilty party. (all heads turn to VAL). What? It’s not just men of a certain age that play away from home you know?

DANNY: (standing up) Hold up there Val. You can’t say that about our beloved mum. She’s a bleedin’ saint, she is. I’ll ‘ave your guts for garters, you see that I shall (he shakes his fist and bangs it on the table).

TBBB: *sigh*

VAL: Dad isn’t the young man he was, Daniel. She’s only flesh and blood, boys. Maybe she’s met someone new?

PADDY: (spits his tea out all over table) Whaaaaaat?

Oh, sorry MAZ, um, that was supposed to go over the tablecloth, not your face. I’ll get, er, I’ll get a cloth.

MAZ: It’s ok… no, leave it, it’s o….kay! Accidents happen. Just continue with the reading.

PADDY: I’ll do it without the tea, yeah? Yeah.

PADDY: Whaaaaaaat?? Are you saying that when I fahhhnd me old man crying at ‘ome, ‘is eyes all red wif tears and strife…

TBBB: Oh for fu….

PADDY:… that you want blame me old ma? Nah sis’, he’s up to no good, I can tell ya.

DANNY: So what do you want me to do abahht it?

PADDY: Well, you are – whatsername – Jessica Rabbit, innit? This is your pub, people get murdered here so often it’s a miracle you got any reg’lars left, son.

DANNY: I’m not Jessica Rabbit, thahhnk you very much. I’ll knock yer bleedin’ block off. This is a respectable public ‘ouse where a few geezers and geezettes ‘ave met their ends. Nuffin’ to do with me, guv’nor. Strike a light (he sits down and crosses his arms in a huff).

TBBB: STOP!! Stop, for the love of Derek, please stop this. Fabian, you and I are going to have serious words once this is over. You wrote a play on veruccas, for god’s sake. I expected better, I really did. Ok, listen to me! This scene is where we are introduced to Danny Bird, the narrator of the books, and our intrepid hero, and he doesn’t remotely talk that that, Fabian. Neither is he an aggressive lout. He is a smart and clever guy who desires to find out the truth behind, and to get justice for, those who have, unfortunately, come to grief in his pub. He’s a bit headstrong and tends to put himself into danger a lot, but he certainly doesn’t bang his fists on tables whilst shouting like Michael bleedin’ Caine. It is in this chapter in the book that we also meet his his best friend Caz, and his family. They are discussing the possible infidelities, as they see it, in their mother and father’s long standing and, until now, very strong marriage. They are confused and scared for their parent’s marriage, not a squabbling bunch of nitwits talking like Dick Van Dyke after a stroke. This chapter is written with the wit and humour that this series is well known for, but it also shows how important Danny is to them and establishes his role within the family. It also fills us in in a bit of backstory for new readers who may not have read the previous three books. And, Fabian, it’s not Jessica Rabbit, it’s Jessica Fletcher, of Murder She Wrote fame.

FABIAN: Is it?

TBBB: I will swing for you, I really will. It’s a nickname that Danny’s family have given him due to his penchant for investigating the crimes that have occurred at his pub, The Marq, or the Marquess Of Queensbury, to give it its full name; South London’s newest (well in book 1, Death Of A Diva it’s new), gay pub. He has solved every one so far and his siblings task him to see what’s up with their parent’s marriage. They’ve been acting strangely and Danny is the one who is closest to them; their favourite, if you will. So, reluctantly, he agrees to talk to them, knowing that they are unlikely to tell him anything anyway.

Ok, once more we need to move on. This scene needs more work than the first one. Let’s move on to the next one. Keep the staging as it is, we’ll just reuse the pub as the setting as I don’t think “Ext: Day: the local McDonalds” is the correct setting, or is even in the book, Fabian. Also, we don’t have a sheet for that.

Ok, places. DANNY, CAZ, places please. Also from now on, can we drop the stupid mockney accents, please. They really are very annoying.

Annnnnnd cue:

DANNY: (running his hand over his new buzz cut haircut) So, what do you think Nick will think of my new haircut? Is it a bit, er, severe? It’s all because of him you know? He’s hardly been around. Some boyfriend he’s turning out to be, what with having a wife and all, even if she isn’t a real wife.

CAZ: (laughing) Whatwhat pip pip and all, he’s more of a (makes quotey fingers)  ‘friend with benefits’ than a boyfriend, Daniel old bean. Like BUPA or luncheon vouchers, or gym membership, whatwhat pip pip. Would you like a drink, old sausage? Pip pip (she picks up her bag and riffles through it, producing two glasses, a bottle of gin and a bottle of tonic).

DANNY: I assume you’ll be making you usual G&T with the T in little more than homeopathic quantities? Make me two.

CAZ: Oh Daniel, dear heart, whatwhat pip pip, you know me soooooooooo well, dahling, pip pip (she pours the gin in a generous measure and waves the bottle of tonic ceremoniously over the glass).

TBBB: Okay, once more I must interrupt this moment to ask an obvious question: what the hell is going on. Again?

Caz, why are you speaking like you have several hot plums in your mouth, and what’s with all the ‘whatwhat’s and ‘pip pip’s?

CAZ: Well, she’s a posh bird, isn’t she? That’s how posh people speak. I have watched Downton Church, you know.

TBBB: Hmmm, clearly you have paid very close attention. Listen, that is not how anyone speaks, let alone the aristocracy. Caz’s full name and title is Lady Caroline Genevieve Victoria de Montfort. She is an intelligent, resourceful, feisty woman and a very good friend (and sometimes conscience) to Danny. She’s a bloody wonderful and hilarious character and has been with him throughout all of his previous escapades. Her aristocratic connections have been quite useful at times.

And what is that on the table?

CAZ: That’s her bag. The one she always carries around with her? It says so in the character notes Fab’s gave me.

Fabian: Fab…ian.

TBBB: But that is an ASDA bag for life. Caz has a Louis Vuitton Gladstone bag. They sell for thousands of pounds. She wouldn’t have a sodding 10p plastic carrier bag. Her bag is almost a character in itself. She takes it everywhere and produces things that you wouldn’t believe possible from it. In this book she’s considering buying a Pomeranian dog. You wouldn’t carry a Pomeranian around in a bag for life now, would you? Man, I think I need a drink.

Look, let’s try one more scene. Heavens knows why, but maybe, just maybe, we can salvage this thing. Right let’s see, ah, okay, the one where Danny is being questioned by Detective Inspector Frank Reid and Detective Constable Nick Fisher after the death in the first scene/prologue. Oh, and no bloody accents. Just read through in your own voices. If I hear one single “blimey” or “I’ll get you copper” I’ll explode.

Int: Day: Police Station interview room. There is a table end on to the audience. On one side sits DI FRANK REID and next to him is DC NICK FISHER. Seated opposite them both is DANNY and his lawyer DOROTHY (DOT) FROST.

DOT: So, Detective Inspector Reid, could you please explain why you have brought my client into the station? Dragging him from his pub at this delicate time by a rough handed uniformed copper, er, sorry Mart, policeman, in full view of all his customers, hmm?

DI REID: He wasn’t dragged anywhere, Dorothy. He came of his own free will, didn’t you Danny boy? And there was no need to bring you down here either, Dot. A waste of your time.

DANNY: Well, it wasn’t really of my own free will now, was it? I wasn’t given any choice. And Dot is here to ensure that your line of questioning is fair and reasonable. Unlike our previous encounters.

DI REID: Excuse me, Mr Bird? We have been nothing but civil to you every time we have met. I resent that accusation.

DANNY: I beg to differ. Look, why have you dragged me in here? I haven’t done anything and I really would rather be back at the pub.

DC FISHER: Maybe we should discuss the reason for bringing Danny here? (he passes REID an envelope).

DI REID: Ah yes, let’s get on with it. (He pushes a photo towards DANNY). How well do you know Cathy Byrne?

DANNY: Cathy who?

DI REID: Cathy Byrne, the poor sod who fell to her death from Henley Court the other night. Landed right in front of some guy. Nearly flattened him.

DANNY: I’m sorry, but I have no idea who she is or why you are even questioning me about her? What’s going on here? Nick?

DC FISHER: (embarrassed) That’s DC Fisher.

DANNY: (embarrassed) Sorry, DC Fisher?

DI REID: (rolling his eyes dramatically) When you two have finally finished, take a closer look at this photograph. (he slides another photograph across). What do you see?

DANNY: (looking) A hand?

DI REID: (sitting back, smug faced) Keep looking…

DANNY: (a look of confusion) It says DANNYB? What’s that? Is that meant to be my name there?

DI REID: (pushing another photo across) And this one?

DANNY: (getting concerned) It’s a phone, clearly.

DI REID: (clapping) DC Fisher, give this man a badge. And what else can you see, Mr Bird?

DANNY: (ignoring the jibe) It looks like the contacts page. Does that… does that say ‘THE MARQ – DANNY?’

DI REID: (looking victorious) Yes it does, Danny my lad. But the pieces of resistance is your pub’s phone number right next to it. Game, set and match!

DC FISHER: (standing up and throwing his chair aside) It’s no good. I cannot take this anymore. Danny, I love you and I simply cannot stand by and watch as this man (he points angrily at DI REID) castigates you and slurs your good nature.

DANNY: (standing up) Oh, Nick. I love you too, and this man (he points angrily to DI REID), will never come between us. Our love will never been torn asunder.

DC FISHER: (throwing his arms open) Oh, Daniel, come to me.

They embrace across the table, throwing the photos aside and grabbing at each others….

TBBB: WOAH WOAH WOAH!! What in the name of Derek’s undergarments is actually happening? How the hell did this happen? FABIAN!!! 

FABIAN: Um, yes?

TBBB: What the hell is going on here? This is not in the book.

FABIAN: Well, I know that Danny and Nick are lovers – he’s the ‘friend with benefits’ that CAZ talked about earlier – and, well, I thought all this policeman talk was getting, well, getting boring? So I spiced it up a little. Um. Too much?

TBBB: I…… I….. I am…… I am actually speechless. You, Fabian, have rendered me speechless. ‘Spiced it up a little‘? This scene was actually going very well up until this point. I was beginning to think that there might be a salvageable play here after all. But no. You had to go and ‘spice it up a little’.

FABIAN: But he is his boyfriend. And boyfriends like to …

TBBB: No! Do not finish that sentence. This is the chapter in the book where Danny is linked to the death of the poor unfortunate woman we meet in the prologue. He has no idea why his name is written on her hand or why his name appears in her contacts, but this is the moment that sets him off on a quest to discover why on top of trying to figure out what’s happening with his parents. DI Frank Reid is his nemesis; he doesn’t like Danny, or his pub (partly because he’s a raging homophobe, but also because it is owned by Chopper Falzone, the local gang lord, to whom Danny has to pay part of the weekly takings), and he is constantly trying anything to get to him. He doesn’t know anything about Nick and Danny’s relationship. And you, you Fabian, have managed to take this scene and turn it into a bloody soft-core porn movie.

FABIAN: Well, we didn’t get to that part, actually, but they only take their shirts off.

TBBB: (spluttering) They do what? Here, in the station? Okay, okay, I’m calling a halt to this ridiculous charade. What was I thinking? All I wanted to do was to form a little theatre group and put on plays of the books I love. Try to spread the love. I wasn’t asking much. Is that asking too much? Tell me, did you actually read the book Fabian?

FABIAN: (blushing) Well, I did, kind of….

TBBB: How can you ‘kind of” read a book? You either did or you didn’t.

FABIAN: I did, um, read the first three chapters. Oh, and the, er, I read the, um, blurb? I thought that would be enough to get the general, um, gist of it. I’ve only read and adapted a pamphlet before. Anything longer gives me headaches.

TBBB: Well, thank you very much Fabian for ruining this play. I only hope that the readers listening in to our little read though are not put off buying this book. I’ll have to do some damage limitation, I’m sure. You are fired, as of now. Everyone, pack it all away; the Beardy Book Blog Players are officially disbanding. You lot do what you want, but I’m off for a very long lie down. And I want my pack of Tunnocks back! You can keep the mint imperials.

FABIAN: (whispering to DANNY) Who is he talking about? What readers? There’s no one else here?

DANNY: Fab’s, me old mucker, I have no bleedin’ clue. ‘Ere, lets go grab ourselves some pie and mash dahhn the local boozer.

 

Derek Farrell: Wait, my author senses are tingling … I sense … I sense someone ruining one of my books! It’s that bearded tit again, isn’t it?

 

Oh, dear readers, my beloved Beardy Blog Fans, I really must apologise for that awful farcical mess you have just witnessed. If I had known for one second that that utter arse Fabian (whose name will no longer be in my contacts, I can tell you that, and I would gladly throw him off a tower block), hadn’t even read the book before writing his script, I would never had allowed you to see it. I am both mortified and embarrassed. My reputation could lie in ruins. Ruins, I tell you.

Let me reassure you that Death Of An Angel is a truly brilliant book. I am a huge fan of Derek Farrell’s Danny Bird series and this book is possibly the best entry yet (and considering the very high quality of the previous three books that really is saying something). If you are still unsure that I have the onions to say this then please glance at my previous reviews what I did write for the month long Fahrenheit Press love fest that was #Fahrenbruary:

#Fahrenbruary Review: Death Of A Diva – Derek Farrell @DereklFarrell @FahrenheitPress

#Fahrenbruary Review: Death Of A Nobody and Death Of A Devil – Derek Farrell @DereklFarrell @FahrenheitPress

You may also like to have a shufty at this splendid Q&A that I did with Derek:

#Fahrenbruary Author Q&A: Derek Farrell – author of The Danny Bird series. @DerekIFarrell @FahrenheitPress

 

I do rather love my Derek and his Danny books 😍 This was taken before DOaA came out, but rest assured I love this one just as much. 

 

Death Of An Angel is a warm, funny, at times dark and very intelligent murder mystery with emotional punch and social commentary, successfully juggling the ongoing mystery of the death of Cathy Byrne with that of Danny’s parent’s marital problems. Derek’s writing is always wonderful, but in Angel he really has excelled himself. This book has been described by Derek as his darkest and most personal book yet, and when you read it you really can get a feeling as to why. It’s brilliant all over the place.

I LOVE Danny Bird and I LOVE Derek Farrell. Long may they both continue ❤️

Highly recommended.

 

To celebrate the Death Of An Angel blog tour, Derek has very generously offered a giveaway. One lucky winner will receive a signed copy of Death of an Angel and 10 runners up will receive a set of Danny Bird pin badges featuring the covers of all four books.  To be in with a chance of winning all entrants have to do is visit derekfarrell.co.uk and subscribe. Winners will be chosen on 1 July.

GOOD LUCK!

Oh, and one more thing, anyone who purchases a Fahrenheit paperback direct from their website from now on also gets a free eBook download of the same book too. That is ALL the aces, no?

https://fahrenheit-press.myshopify.com/

You can also buy Derek’s books via Amazon:

Amazon UK