I ADORE everything Tana French has ever written, and I’ve just finished the last in her Cal Hooper trilogy: The Hunter; The Keeper; The Searcher. Superb, as always. I am also a huge fan of Susan Hill, particularly her Simon Serrailler series. So, with those novels in mind for inspiration, I have almost completed my first draft of a detective series, featuring DS Diamond Winters, her quirky family dramas, and what happens when a body is found at the side of a local waterfall. Here’s my draft opening paragraph. Love to know what you think (I won’t give away the title yet!)

Chapter one

Detective Sergeant Diamond Winters stepped off the road and headed towards the falls. She took a moment to enjoy the sensation of icy spray on her face. Water roared down the ravine, a destructive force, skimming pathways, drowning tree roots, tearing clumps of moss from rocks, a silver and white river crashing towards its destination. Rain, six straight days’ worth, had sent tourists scuttling, writing off their Lake District breaks, heading for home in their saturated cagouls and bright Wellington boots. The lake was full. The car was still there, a small blue hatchback, mud-splattered and parked at an odd angle. From what Di remembered, nothing happened in the town without a thread of gossip starting up. And action. Always action. The car wouldn’t be there for long.

Two uniformed police officers hovered; collars turned against the weather. Officially, Di was not yet part of the Cumbria police force, not until Monday, anyway, but she was never one for holding back.

‘Evening, gents.’ She gave the taller officer a thumbs-up.

He grimaced. ‘Alright.’

‘Problems?’ A red Land Rover, old style, was parked next to the signpost. ‘Called the MRT out, did you?’

‘Not us, madam. And if you don’t mind, could you go about your business?’

Their lack of urgency hinted at less a fatality, more a pair of stuck walkers thinking it would be cool to do a ghyll scramble in the rain. Either way, a mountain rescue team had expertise that police forces could only dream of.  ‘Okay, well, just letting you know, what’s happening here could well be my business. I too am with the police.’ Should she bow? ‘DS Winters.’

The pair glanced at each other, shrugged, shuffled. The shorter officer put the flat of his thumb against his left nostril, flicked something away.

‘So,’ Di continued, ‘I’ll be taking a walk up the ghyll, if it’s all the same to you.’

The taller officer gave her a hard stare. ‘DS Winters? From Manchester?’

She pressed her lips together. Small-town bloody grapevine, again.