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  Praise for

  FULL CIRCLE

  “Kevin Hatt’s, Full Circle, combines quick, British wit with clever intrigue. His main character, Haszard—a smart, athletic bloke—is a man destined for crime-solving. Set in a small English town where pagan worship is suspected, Full Circle is a fast-paced murder/mystery that swiftly draws you in and keeps you on the edge of your seat till the very last page. An enthusiastic “thumbs up!” to this great page-turner.”

  —Kate McGaughey, author of Hear the Bells

  “Kevin E. Hatt’s sleuth mystery, Full Circle: The Haszard Narratives, is a breezy and fun tale that manages to be deadly serious at the same time and that’s no mean feat. Like many other readers, I was immediately intrigued when I saw the pentagram on the cover of this book, and the story did not disappoint. The mystery surrounding Dean’s death was as irresistible to me as it was to Haszard and Sabrina, who are a brilliant team, and who I enjoyed getting to know. The supporting cast of friends and colleagues were also a lot of fun to become acquainted with on the way to the resolution of the puzzle. The story moves quickly and smoothly, and the solution came as a total surprise. This is the first of The Haszard Narratives that I’ve had the opportunity to read, and I’m looking forward to reading more. Full Circle: The Haszard Narratives is highly recommended.

  —Jack Magnus for Readers’ Favorite

  “A fast paced mystery filled with suspense and a dash of English humour. This second book in the Haszard series, is highly recommended!”

  —Christopher Bowron, # 1 Amazon Best Selling Author

  “Full Circle is the latest installment in Kevin E. Hatt’s Haszard series. This story was my first read in the series and as a new reader, I was still able to follow the story and the dynamics of the characters well. The only issue I had was that I was never entirely sure just what Haszard exactly does for a living or how he really became involved in solving mysteries and crimes. When the novel begins, Haszard and his girlfriend Sabrina are asked to look into the mysterious death of a local man, Dean, that Sabrina had known from school. Feeling a debt to the victim’s sister, Haszard agrees to look into the strange circumstances. Early research and the discovery of a strange artifact, an engraved pewter disc, on the victim, led the investigation to a town called Lamesford, which has a dark history, rich with Pagan lore and also current traditions. Lamesford seems to contain the answers Haszard needs for the investigation, but those answers seem to be buried in layers of secrets and more sinister elements.

  As Haszard begins his investigation in Lamesford, he quickly realizes that there is a certain level of eeriness to both the town and the residents. People that were slated to help begin to turn up dead and others seem less than thrilled to have any form of an investigation take place about their town or offer any details about any events/traditions within. Haszard and Sabrina have an extensive network of people to help them and the walls finally start to come down surrounding all of the mysteries as Haszard digs a little deeper. He finds there is some connection to the pagan holiday of Mabon, also inscribed on the mysterious disc he believes is connected with Dean’s death and many of the town’s mysteries. Haszard soon notices Lamesford also has a pattern of missing people--he only has to figure out what it all means and where the connections lie. The more Haszard uncovers, the more dangerous his situation becomes. The end of the story is exciting, suspenseful and full of twists that not only explain the initial investigation, but also frees the skeletons of Lamesford’s past.

  Full Circle was a fun, suspenseful mystery that was full of wit, strong writing and an interesting plotline. Haszard is a likeable, unlikely hero, although he is a bit arrogant and some of the dialogue is rather campy. The relationship between him and Sabrina is light and fun and adds another level to the story. There are a lot of characters involved, so the conversations do get lost a bit, but the suspense and excitement keep the story moving. Kevin E. Hatt has crafted an interesting character in Haszard and I would absolutely read more of his work.

  —Lauren Cannavino

  Full Circle:

  A Haszard Narative

  by Kevin E. Hatt

  © Copyright 2016 Kevin E. Hatt

  ISBN 978-1-63393-338-5

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other – except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters are both actual and fictitious. With the exception of verified historical events and persons, all incidents, descriptions, dialogue and opinions expressed are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Published by

  210 60th Street

  Virginia Beach, VA 23451

  800-435-4811

  www.koehlerbooks.com

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to all those who read and enjoy it, as you people are priceless and receive my undying gratitude. And to Pam and Sasha, my long-suffering wife, and daughter. They have put up with my silence whilst creating the Haszard series, so it would be wrong not to mention them. Lastly, this is dedicated to Cadmus, the Greek god of writing.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  1

  MISERABLY, THE END OF summer was upon us and with it, the closing stages of the cricket season. There was just one match to go, which just so happened to be a couple of weeks before Sabrina’s twenty-fifth birthday. We’d just finished work, and were walking hand-in-hand towards the car. Sabrina kissed me softly on the cheek as we strolled, the aroma of her early morning puff of perfume still just detectable.

  We both worked at the local hospital, Sabrina being a Sister in the orthopedic clinic, while I was an anesthetic and recovery practitioner in the operating theatres. Having just returned from a long weekend away, she was still incredibly soppy, not that I minded. If truth be told, I was as soppy as her.

  Despite my elevated state, though, I was none too happy with the thought of enduring a trip around the supermarket, a trip that I generally try to avoid if at all possible, utilizing such excuses as having typhoid, cholera, and the Black Death. Sabrina, however, was battle-hardened, having long since learned how to keep me under control.

  “So, Haz, what would you like for dinner this evening?” Sabrina asked, leading me into the supermarket, her eyebrows raised in expectation of an answer, as if I’d be able to give a rational answer with those beautiful blue eyes burning into me.

  “You.”

  Sabrina smiled, her perfectly proportioned dimples accentuating her beauty. She was just a few years younger than me. “You’ve had me all weekend. I would have thought that you would have been thinking of something else by now.”

  “I could never tire of you, and you know it,” I said, pinching her bottom, drawing an ironic, yet amused glower from her.

  I had an awful feeling that Sabrina would be maneuvering the subject of dinner onto the salad route, something that I’m not particularly fond of. I needed to counteract the threat. “I could really murder a curry after all that healthy steak and salad over the weekend.”


  “Sabrina flashed a knowing smile. “The only salad you encountered over the weekend—which incidentally, you didn’t eat—was on the side of your haddock and chips. I seem to recall you dumping it onto my plate while I was talking to the waitress. Haszard, you’re a real chancer.”

  That’s my surname, by the way, and I only use Haszard, plus a shortened version. Odd, but noticeable. I like to think my parents meant well with my first name, but I cannot stomach it.

  “I love you.”

  Shaking her head, Sabrina laughed. “Okay, a curry it is, just as long as we eat something healthy tomorrow night. Deal?”

  I nodded. “Deal.” We’ll see about that, I thought.

  Pleased with the thought of a chicken tikka jalfrezi, I draped an arm over Sabrina’s shoulder, promising a plateful of rabbit food the following evening; however, I knew that our friends would be meeting us then, but more about that motley crew later.

  Sabrina chatted away about our trip from which we’d just returned, telling me that we should go away somewhere again soon. I was acquiescent. Since meeting almost a year back, we’d actually spent little time alone, being surrounded by others for nearly the entire time.

  Unfortunately, I tend to attract tricky situations, but after the last nightmare we’d faced, I said no more. If someone had a problem, they could find someone else to sort it! If there was a puzzle, it would remain that way. Well, at least my intentions were honorable.

  In spite of my good intentions, though, problems were just around the corner. I should have said no. I really should have, but it all sounded just too intriguing to ignore.

  My first task when we arrived back was to check my snakes. Being a herpetologist, I kept a dozen in the box-room of “Chateau Haszard,” as Sabrina once christened it. It was actually just a four-bedroom house that I’d picked up cheaply a few years previous, and I invited Sabrina to live with me on a full-time basis a month or so back, an invite that I’d never once regretted.

  I’d just put Roland—my rat snake—back in when Sabrina called. “Haz, phone. It’s Grace.”

  That’s odd, I thought, what can Grace want? Grace was an old friend of mine from way back. She was supposed to be on a business trip, which made me wonder what she was calling about.

  I made my way down the stairs, taking the phone from Sabrina, sitting myself down, indicating that a drink would go down well. “Grace—how’s Frankfurt?”

  “I don’t know, we never actually got there,” she said awkwardly.

  “Well, where did you go?” I asked, fearing the answer.

  “Farnborough.”

  “What, the place they have the air show?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh no, I thought, here we go again. “Why?”

  “It wasn’t my fault. It was Alec and those cocktails in Gatwick village, but never mind that now. I need you to get to Suzie and tell her to wire some money to Marseille.”

  I sighed. “Why Marseille?”

  “Because of a mix-up in Uttoxeter.”

  I shook my head. Grace’s mix-ups whilst on business trips were legendary. “What’s Uttoxeter got to do with anything? I thought you were supposed to be moving onto Utrecht, but hang on. Explain Marseille.”

  “That was Jen at the party, and the weed was rather strong, I’m afraid. Manchester and Marseille sound so similar—don’t you think?”

  “No.”

  “Well, apparently they do after a spliff and a dozen tequila slammers.”

  I grimaced as I took the drink from a smirking Sabrina. “Grace, I can’t keep up.”

  “Neither can I, sweetie. I did enjoy Warsaw, though.”

  “Warsaw?” I said, astounded. “That’s in bloody Poland. You said that you were supposed to be going to Walsall. Grace, Walsall is near Birmingham, in England!”

  “Yes, I am aware of that, but they do sound alike, and I blame Robert and that concoction he gave us in Helsinki,” Grace said innocently.

  “Helsinki?”

  “It’s in Finland.”

  “Grace, I know it’s in bloody Finland! What were you doing there?”

  “Passing through, I think.”

  “And then you went to Warsaw?”

  “Not straight away, no.”

  “Then, where?”

  “We stopped off in Copenhagen.”

  I scratched my head. “Why?”

  “Ah now, that was Barry’s idea. He wanted to go to a party there. He got talking to a croupier, who told us that it was going to be the party of the century.”

  “And what was it like?”

  There was a pause. “I don’t know, it isn’t for another week.”

  I shook my head, glancing at Sabrina, who was giving me her customary simper. Sabrina was well aware of Grace’s antics whilst on business trips. “Right, I have to get Suzie to send some money to Marseille. Where is she?”

  “She should be at home. Two Aston Road. If she isn’t, try Gloria, or Julia, or—”

  “I’ll find Suzie.”

  “If you can’t, the numbers for the others are at my place, I think.”

  “Hang on, why don’t you call them yourself?”

  There was another awkward silence. “It’s a little embarrassing.”

  “What?”

  “One of their brothers was passionate with me, on his stag night.”

  I shook my head. “And the others?”

  “They were there as well.”

  “Who, Gloria and Julie, or their brothers?”

  “Their brothers of course! What do you take me for?” Grace accused.

  I shook my head again. “How much do you need?”

  “Oh, about ten thousand should cover it. Oh, but then again, you’d better make it fifteen. You know what the French are like for wine.”

  Fifteen thousand pounds for wine? I knew better than to ask. “Grace, what happened to the money you took with you?”

  “Well—we lost it.”

  “You lost it? How?”

  There was another awkward silence. “On fifteen red, twenty-four black, and a five-card trick that really should never have failed. Where that queen came from I really do not know! Anyway, never mind that. Can you ask Phil if he would pick us up from the airport, and tell him that we won’t be arriving from Cologne?”

  “Where, then?”

  “Cardiff.”

  “Cardiff? How come?”

  “There was a mix-up.”

  “What mix-up?”

  “Never mind that now. Tell him that we’ll need to get to Gretna to pick my car up.”

  I looked up at Sabrina, who was chortling away. “But I thought you said you were leaving it at Glasgow.”

  “I did, but Sally and Dave decided to get married and I told them to use my car.”

  “Grace, I’ve lost track.”

  “Haz, sweetie—it’s perfectly simple. We went to a conference at the airfield at Farnborough after Jon discovered it wasn’t Frankfurt. Then we went to Utrecht, only to discover that Robert had written it down wrong and we were due in Uttoxeter. Then we went to Helsinki, followed by a brief stay in Copenhagen, and on to Walsall after briefly visiting Warsaw, after Jon got it so horribly wrong. From there we went to Manchester, only to find that they were waiting for us in Marseille. From here we are moving onto Cardiff, rather than Cologne, as Robert thought. From Cardiff, we shall be moving onto Gretna, where there’s a party on, so tell Phil to bring an overnight bag. Oh—I think we might have been in Amsterdam at some point, but you know what Amsterdam is like. You could spend a whole week there and not remember a thing.”

  I sat shaking my head. “Grace, why don’t you take some members of staff who actually know what they’re doing?”

  “Oh, those jobsworths are no fun! All work and no play make Grace a rather dull girl.”

  Girl, I thought; she’s forty-seven. “Grace, take care of yourself and I’ll see you soon.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.”

  I looked up at Sabrina. “Two Aston Road. Shall w
e go?”

  ***

  Sabrina and I laughed all the way to Aston Road. Grace tended to cause mayhem wherever she went, and her job takes her all over the world. She was some sort of high-powered business consultant involved in logistics and procurement, or something. I’d never fully understood, which was probably just as well. From what I gather, Grace used her good looks to charm customers and associates, doing a significant proportion of her deals in the bedroom. Ordinarily, employees would be sacked for getting up to such antics, only the results Grace managed to achieve were stunning, to say the very least.

  Aston Road was on the edge of Darnbey’s town center. It was rather quaint and quiet, with large trees lining the road that contained commodious detached houses, the majority of which had expensive-looking cars in the drive. Apparently, these dwellings were rather pricy. It wasn’t for me, though. It was too close to the town. Chateau Haszard was on the very edge of the town, being the final dwelling before the countryside began, with a spectacular view of the Peak District. In winter, it was simply breathtaking.

  “That’s it, there,” Sabrina said, indicating a house with a high privet-hedge and a willow-tree in the garden. “Have you met this Suzie before?”

  “Possibly,” I tentatively answered.

  I’d met so many of Grace’s staff and associates that it was difficult keeping up. Add the fact that the wine generally flowed like water on these occasions, it was nigh impossible to put a name to a face. Moreover, when Grace left one company for another, she generally tended to cherry-pick the members of staff she rated highly, and took them with her.

  Sabrina nodded as she climbed out of the car, fully understanding my answer. The last function of Grace’s that we attended left Sabrina with a hangover that lasted for two days, which was unusual, because Sabrina was generally immune to hangovers.

  I rang the doorbell, wondering if I’d recognize Suzie. I glanced uneasily at Sabrina.

  The door was opened by a tall, plump, dark-haired lass, who was wearing a long red dress. I guessed her to be in her early twenties. She beamed. “Dimples,” she said cheerily, gesturing us through to the sitting room.