The STAC Phenomenon

STAC stands for the Sanford Third Age Club. It’s a series of cosy crime novels, written by David W. Robinson. His first, The Filey Connection, was published in 2012 (actually self-published earlier than that but then Crooked Cat Publishing came along and grabbed the first three in the series and he’s been writing the subsequent novels at a phenomenal rate since (besides producing two much longer and darker tomes, The Handshaker and The Deep Secret).

His latest is due out any day now – Christmas Crackers. It’s a collection of short stories about the STAC characters. It's Yuletide again and faced with a demanding writer, Joe, Sheila and Brenda must deliver tales of murder and mayhem. Who slaughtered Santa? Who committed a felony on a ferry, topped a teller, killed a copper and did Lee really go gunning for a gumshoe? In the background there is the Novel of the Year award and Joe is faced with finding another brutal killer. It’s Christmas, but not everyone harbours peace and goodwill, and for the three sleuths, it means... Murder most festive.

THE FILEY CONNECTION
THE I-SPY MURDERS
A HALLOWEEN HOMICIDE
A MURDER FOR CHRISTMAS
MURDER AT THE MURDER MYSTERY WEEKEND
MY DEADLY VALENTINE
THE CHOCOLATE EGG MURDERS
THE SUMMER WEDDING MURDER
COSTA DEL MURDER

My review of The Filey Connection

This was a pleasure to read. If you’ve enjoyed Simon Brett’s Mrs Pargeter novels, then you’ll like these too.

Joe Murray, 55, a ‘short-arsed, crinkly-haired, bad-tempered old bugger’ with ‘muscles in places where people don’t know they have places’ owns and runs the Lazy Luncheonette café with the help of stalwarts Sheila and Brenda.

Joe has a bit of a reputation for private detection and prides himself on his deductive powers. Which are called upon when one of the club members is killed by a hit-and-run motorist. He feels that it was not merely an accident. The sudden death puts a dampener on the club’s upcoming weekend trip to the Beachside Hotel in Filey, but it goes ahead anyway. No sooner do they get there than another club member meets an untimely end in the bay. He is convinced the deaths are connected.

A whodunnit and a whydunnit, this is a quick read with plenty of chuckles along the way. Joe is acerbic yet likeable. Both Sheila and Brenda are great sounding boards for his theories and there’s plenty of repartee between them, inoffensive sarcasm and word-play. Coincidentally, Sheila is his age and could still ‘turn heads on a grab-a-granny nights, but they usually turned slower because most of their owners were in the deeper throes of arthritis.’ Where Sheila showed ‘tact and discretion in her daily life, both words had obviously been left out of Brenda’s lexicon.’ 

Robinson displays an acute eye for observation, useful in an author and a detective: ‘they emerged onto a broad richly-carpeted corridor, their footsteps muffled in that curious silence that was the hallmark of hotel landings.’

Yes, Joe’s a curmudgeon, but his heart’s in the right place and his two sidekicks seem to love him despite his occasional rudeness; indeed, they give as good as they get. He’s a fine departure from the usual detective. As one character says, ‘As a detective, Mr Murray, you’re probably better off running a café. You notice everything, misinterpret too much and still come to the right conclusion.’ Don’t they all?

I look forward to reading the other books in due course!

So, watch out for Christmas Crackers, the tenth in the series. It promises to be murder most festive.