An Extract from No Going Back by Robert Crouch

Robert Crouch is one of the loveliest authors I know so that when he told me he’d another Kent Fisher mystery coming out I knew I had to break my current self-imposed blog tour ban and participate. The latest book, No Going Back, number 7 in the series, is released today and I am delighted to share an extract with you.

There are lots of other Kent Fisher posts on Linda’s Book Bag:

You’ll find my review of No Love Lost here.

There’s a guest post from Rob about daring to be different when No Mercy, was published. You can read that post here.

Robert featured again when No More Lies was released, in a post you can see here.

I ‘stayed in’ with Rob in a post you can read here, and he’s been kind enough to provide a guest post (here) shortly after his Fisher’s Fables was released and another here to celebrate No Bodies.

No Going Back is available for purchase here.

No Going Back

What you don’t do will torment you.

When journalist Harry Lawson is pulled from a private swimming pool, his drowning looks like a tragic accident, but for one small detail – he knew someone was going to kill him.

The three text messages he fired off to an old flame the night before confirm he’s a troubled man. But former friend and sleuth, Kent Fisher, believes the messages hint at something deeper and more sinister – an investigation that cost Harry his life.

When a second reporter dies, it’s clear there’s a killer with unfinished business. As Kent inches towards a breakthrough he clashes with close friend Detective Inspector Ashley Goodman. She instructs him to stop investigating, knowing full well he won’t.

For Kent there’s no going back. He has to finish what he started, even though he risks losing a friend, and maybe his own life.

In the seventh murder mystery of the series, Kent Fisher digs deep to complete an investigation that’s far removed from the one he started.

An Extract from No Going Back


“Harry Lawson’s dead.”

I’m not sure why Sarah’s telling me as Harry and I fell out over ten years ago.

“The police were waiting for me when I returned home.” She folds her arms across her baggy sweater and stares at me, as if it’s my fault. “I’ve been out all night on an emergency call.”

That explains the smells of cattle shed and Jeyes fluid, and why she’s on my doorstep at seven fifteen on Sunday morning. Her jeans and wellingtons are speckled with muck and straw, suggesting she drove straight here after talking to the police.

“They want me to formally identify the body.”

Is that why she’s here? Does she want me to go to the morgue with her? I can’t think why. She’s a veterinary surgeon. She’s seen and operated on enough sick and injured animals in her time.

Maybe she wants me to identify Harry.

“Harry had my business card in his wallet,” she says, sounding put out. “They asked me about my relationship to him. They asked about relatives, someone close they could contact.” She sweeps back her auburn hair, revealing grey roots. “Did he tell you he grew up in a home after his parents overdosed on heroin?”

Harry told me his parents were kidnapped and executed during a conflict in the Middle East in the 1970s. It inspired him to follow in their footsteps and become an investigative journalist.

I’m not sure writing kiss and tell stories about celebrities quite hits the mark.

“Did the police say how he died?”

“They said investigations were ongoing.” She glances at her chunky wristwatch, but shows no sign of leaving. “I thought you should know. You and Harry were close once.”

I remember the night Harry silenced everyone in the saloon bar of the Red Lion with a drunken outburst. He’d been out of sorts for days, making sarcastic jibes, taunting and provoking me. When Sarah intervened, he pushed her away, accusing her of always taking my side. When I tried to calm him, he thrust me against a wall, pressing his face close to mine.

“Thanks for destroying everything that’s good in my life,” he said.

Then he crashed out of the pub. The following morning he left for London.

We haven’t seen each other or spoken since that night.

“Did you tell the police about the argument in the Red Lion?” I ask.

She gives me a cheeky smile – the one that says she’s misbehaved. “There’s a lot of things I haven’t told them.”


And that’s what I love about Robert Crouch’s writing. There’s mystery and a dash of romantic entanglement but most of all, there are real, vivid people!

About Robert Crouch

Robert Crouch and Harvey

Robert Crouch is the author of the Kent Fisher murder mystery series. Set in today’s world, the books pay homage to the traditional murder mystery and classic whodunit.

Based on his career as an environmental health officer, Kent Fisher is a different kind of detective, described as ‘unique in crime fiction’ by one reviewer.

Having left environmental health, Robert now writes full time from his home on the East Sussex coast. He loves walking on the South Downs with his wife, Carol, and their Westie, Harvey, reading crime fiction and photography.

You can find out more on Robert’s website, by following him on Twitter @robertcrouchuk or by finding him on Instagram and  Facebook.

There’s more with these other bloggers too:

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