I am so delighted to meet the the gorgeous, but devilish PI Dylan Scott.
Do sit down, make yourself comfortable and join us!
Peggy: Smiling as she appraises her latest guest. ‘Nice to meet you, Dylan. Do sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’d order you a pint, but as it is only 11am, you’ll have to settle for a pot of tea. I know you’re partial to a drink.’
Dylan: A cheeky smile twists his lips and makes his eyes sparkle. ‘Peggy, it’s wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. I was expecting to see some old biddy with a flat chest and thick ankles but just look at you. You’re so glamorous. My mother could take a few lessons from you. So - yes, I do drink tea. I’d prefer beer, or whisky, but tea will do. As for the time of day, I think you’ll find the sun’s over the yard arm somewhere, Peggy.’
Peggy: Shuffling in her chair. ‘You’re probably right, but I do believe that was a wink? No, don’t answer that. Answer this instead. Is it a thorny issue to talk about your sacking from the police force?’
Dylan: Crossing legs, settling back in his chair and nodding his head. ‘Not at all because it gives me chance to tell people my side of the story. I was a detective sergeant, a highly respected member of the police force, until, one night, I had to arrest a bloke who had form as long as the M1. He didn’t take kindly to it and I ended up in hospital. He then had the gall to accuse me of using excessive force. Now, anyone with half a brain would take no notice of a piece of scum like him. The force, however, was having one of its clean-up sessions. They wanted to show the likes of you, Peggy, that complaints made against their officers were taken seriously. Result? I was kicked off the force.’
Peggy: Shaking head in disbelief. ‘So I heard. And, tell me, is prison as much fun as we’re meant to believe it is on TV?’
Dylan: A sardonic smile crosses his face. ‘It’s a laugh a minute. Well, so long as you don’t mind people spitting in your food before you’re supposed to eat it. But hey, that’s water under the bridge. It’s best forgotten.’
Peggy: Leaning forward. ‘You run around in a flash car, a Morgan. I’ve no idea why someone in your position would want to be so conspicuous, but maybe after this interview we can go for a spin. I’ve never had the pleasure of stepping on the running boards of an old sports car.’
Dylan: Pulling a face and uncrossing his legs. ‘It isn’t flash, it’s a beautifully designed classic. It’s been called worse though. One woman described it as pretty, for God’s sake. It’s a 1956 Morgan. I have to agree that a Morgan in Daytona Yellow isn’t the best vehicle for surveillance operations, and it has caused me a few problems in the past, but I get by. And you know, you’re always welcome, Peggy. We’ll go for a spin, maybe call in at this great pub I know... ‘
Peggy: Smiling. ‘Lovely, but don’t distract me just yet. Now this private detective malarkey sounds to me like you want to poke your nose back into police business. Clearly you’ve not learnt much. But anyway, tell me what it’s all about.’
Dylan: Casting his gaze across the room he notices racks of books, but can’t see any relating to Shirley Wells’s series, shrugs his shoulders and smiles as he returns his attention back to Peggy. ‘I’d never thought about it as a real job, but needs must. When I came out of prison, I had no job and no money and then, as you’ve probably heard, my wife chucked me out. When someone who’d heard about my police work asked me to look into the disappearance of her mother, I had no choice but to say yes. It was either that or starve. Being a PI is okay though. I can break rules, you see. You wouldn’t be able to even lift the Police Manual, Peggy, but me? I can get away with a lot more. I still have a couple of friends on the force who’ll help me out now and again too.’
Peggy: Rolling her eyes in mock surprise. ‘I know there is a woman in your life. Having said this I believe there are two. Your mother’s one of them. Now do tell me about her. She sounds fascinating, if a bit crazy.’
Dylan: Laughing loudly. ‘Crazy doesn’t even begin to sum up my mother. As a child of the sixties, she travelled the world smoking joints and chanting “Love and Peace, man”. She slept with - well, I’m not really sure how many men she slept with, but she doesn’t have a clue who my father is. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. She still smokes joints. She drives me insane. I keep hoping some man will sweep her off her feet - and out of my hair - but there’s nothing doing. I don’t suppose there’s a man out there daft enough to take her on.
Then there’s my wife, Bev. I can’t say too much about her though because she’s a fan of yours, Peggy, and she’ll be reading this. She was last heard cackling with laughter and asking “why would the lovely Peggy who interviews celebrities waste time on you?”. Enough said.’
Peggy: Leaning forward and patting Dylan’s knee. ‘I’m glad she’s a fan of mine. How wonderful. Now, having read all about your investigations in those lovely books by Shirley Wells, I can say, they are very good. Well, I’ll go further and say they are a pretty damn good read. Now keep that to yourself. I don’t want my followers thinking I’m going soft because you are such a good looking man, giving me the odd wink and the promise of a spin in your car. You know I could be quite adventurous if not a tad dangerous if I was a little younger!’
Dylan: ‘Nothing wrong with age, Peggy and I can tell you’re a wise woman. Some people think that Shirley Wells is responsible for those stories. She’s not. All she does is say “Hey, Dylan, I’ve had this great idea”. Believe me, those words send a chill through my heart. She hasn’t had a great idea at all. All she has is some half-baked notion that I have to tell her won’t work at all. So she sulks. She has a couple of glasses of wine too many and comes up with another idea. I tell her that won’t work either. She has more wine and then demands to know why I can’t improvise. She’s clueless. Totally clueless. If it wasn’t for me, there would be no books.’
Peggy: Chuckling. ‘Now that sounds like a good title for a new book, Totally Clueless. Suggest that the next time she samples the grape stuff! Anyway, I’m not going to give anything away about what you’ve really got up to over the last couple of years, readers can go and buy their own copies, but having grappled with murder, people going missing and others jailed whether guilty or not, what can I expect from your next case and, more to the point, when can I hope to read all about it?’
Dylan: In a conspiratorial tone. ‘As you know, Peggy, Shirley thinks it’s great fun to send me to the back of beyond to investigate cases. When I say the back of beyond, I mean Dawson’s Clough in Lancashire. Have you ever been? It rains. Truly, it rains all the time. And when it’s not raining, it’s snowing. But one day, out of the blue, she said to me “You’re going on a cruise, Dylan.” Great, I thought. I pictured myself getting suntanned on deck, sipping a long cold drink beneath a Caribbean sun - Oh, no. Shirley was sending me cruising the Norwegian coastline high above the Arctic Circle. In November. Can you believe that? I think it was her idea of a joke (she doesn’t have a great sense of humour). Or perhaps I’d upset her. That’s not difficult, I can tell you. These author types are so touchy, aren’t they, Peggy? Anyway, off I had to go. I thought the boredom would kill me. It probably would have if the woman in the cabin next to mine hadn’t died. The result of that particular adventure is DEAD CALM, a novella this time, and it will be coming to a device near you in June.
‘Anyway, never mind all that. I have to say, Peggy, that you’re the first sensible woman I’ve met in ages. Now then, are we going for that pint? I mean, that spin in the Morgan?’
You can learn more about Dylan by visiting Shirley Wells at: