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Product Description Panicking Ralph is a big-time villain – but he’s a local villain – and when his life is threatened, policemen Harpur and Iles are straight on the caseDetective Chief Superintendent Colin Harpur and his boss, Assistant Chief Constable Desmond Iles, worry about the safety of one of the big-time crooks on their ground, Ralph Ember, sometimes known as Panicking Ralph. Yes, Ralph is a villain, but he’s a local villain, and Harpur and Iles feel a kind of bizarre affection for him. And in any case, Ralph helps Iles keep the city reasonably peaceful. But now some awkward repercussions from Ralph’s lawless past seem to bring danger.Ralph is aware of this new peril and has installed a bulletproof steel barrier to protect himself in the club he owns – but will this be enough to keep him safe? Harpur thinks not. Surely the upcoming party at the club will provide the perfect moment for a gunman to do for Ralph? The only way Harpur can be sure of protecting Ralph is to attend the party himself . . . Review “James’s amusing 32nd mystery featuring Asst. Chief Constable Desmond Iles and Chief Supt. Colin Harpur” ― Publishers Weekly About the Author Critically-acclaimed crime writer Bill James is a former journalist, and wrote for The Sunday Times, the Daily Mirror, the Spectator, the New Review and Punch. Married, with four children, he lives in Wales. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. DisclosuresBy Bill JamesSevern House Publishers LimitedCopyright © 2014 Bill JamesAll rights reserved.ISBN: 978-1-78029-548-0ContentsCover, The Harpur and Iles Series by Bill James, Title Page, Copyright, Author's Note, Part One: Reminiscences, Part Two: The now and the near future, Footnotes, CHAPTER 1Now and then, during a quiet spell at home in his authentic, multi-chimneyed, paddock-graced manor house, 'Low Pastures,' or, say, when business went sluggish at the club he owned in Shield Terrace, Ralph Ember liked to think back to certain, undeniably very rough, handgun episodes in his past. Liked? No, not quite that. In fact, not that at all. He didn't enjoy recalling those harsh times. The memories could cause near-paralysing pain, and possibly some shame. He had to compel himself to re-run them in his head.So, why do it? Why pipe torment aboard? He knew the answer. Of course he did. He wanted to check something, recheck something – something crucial to him, something sensitive, something non-stop fucking troublesome. He had to prove that nothing in his behaviour during those lawless, violent capers long ago could justify the disgusting nickname some still vilely blessed him with: 'Panicking Ralph,' or even worse, 'Panicking Ralphy.' In Ember's opinion, this foul, dangly 'y,' stuck on to give an entirely unwanted jingle, made him sound feeble and pathetically childish, a gibbering kid.Very few – other than that insolent, eternally savage, bombastic sod, Assistant Chief Constable Desmond Iles – would call Ember Panicking Ralph or Ralphy to his face. But he felt certain the slur circulated as more or less routine abuse among his enemies; and probably among some of his seeming friends, too: anything for a smirk, disloyalty included. Although this hurt and angered Ralph he obviously could not prevent it. But he searched for solace. By going over and over the ancient details he tried to convince himself he'd never in fact actually faltered, had never chickened, despite terrible, salvo dangers in some of the gang jobs then. 'Panicking Ralph,' 'Panicking Ralphy' – these were surely utterly undeserved smears, weren't they? Weren't they? The word 'Mondial' kept recurring among his memories – kept badgering and taunting him.Ember had a high business status now (income, six hundred thousand plus a year, and rising, the bulk untaxed, naturally) so that those contemptuous nicknames seemed especially offensive to him. And he enjoyed an admirable civic status, too, frequently publishing very heart