Vietnam vet Mallory has been everywhere and done everything—from hippie life to construction work, from covering a reporter’s beat to walking a cop’s—before finally returning to small-town Iowa to try his hand at writing. In between crafting whodunits, he does his part for the community by ferrying hot meals to little old ladies. But then his worlds unexpectedly collide: home invaders murder one of his clients and leave Mallory black-and-blue when he catches them red-handed.

The elderly victim is the first fatality in an organized burglary spree sweeping the town, but Mallory fears she may not be the last. And despite the painful cracks in his ribs, nothing can stop him from looking into the killing—not even the local sheriff, or the little blonde from high school days who got away…or even a beating courtesy of the ruthless goon squad that warns Mallory to steer clear.

Armed with his ex-cop’s instincts, soldier’s survival skills, and mystery writer’s savvy, Mallory bucks the local law and the love of his life to stop this brutal burglary ring. But writing a mystery can pay well, whereas solving one can pay dearly….



What kind of drama could happen in a small-town Iowa bus station? If you’re a guy like Mallory, it’s the kind that involves sidestepping trouble between a pretty, frightened blonde and a pretty frightening, two-fisted, one-eyed goon. With the help of a handy Pepsi bottle, Mallory saves the lady from the menacing lout, shares a heartfelt moment, and sees her safely off, wistfully wondering if they’ll ever meet again. End of story? Not a chance.

Even though it’s Mallory’s best buddy, John, who’s visiting on leave from combat in Vietnam, it’s Mallory who has a nasty flashback—when that same sweet blonde drops back into his life after losing hers. But how did she go from a bus out of town to a car at the bottom of a cliff? Why is her “accident” a dead ringer for the one that killed a scandal-scarred senator? And is local lawman Sheriff Brennan helping to hush things up?

The questions are good ones, and Mallory wants answers—bad. But if he crosses the wrong people, things could get ugly….



Roscoe Kane is one of the last—and, in Mallory’s opinion, best—of the old-school mystery writers. Back in the day, he turned out crime thrillers filled with babes, bullets, and tough-guy banter. But today Kane is filled with bitterness over the nosedive his career took after he sued a publisher. For Mallory, who learned his craft at Kane’s knee, it’s tough watching his literary hero drown his sorrows in booze—but it’s a million times tougher finding the old master drowned in a hotel bathtub.

Some call it ironic that Kane meets his end in the middle of Bouchercon, the famed convention that’s a mecca for mystery writers. The Chicago coroner calls it a drunken mishap. But Mallory spies treachery mingled with the tragedy.

Just like a classic whodunit, there’s a gallery full of suspects—from a scorned ex-wife and an ostracized gay son to an underhanded publisher and a roster of rival writers with axes to grind. Throw in a knockout dame who gives Mallory a private eyeful, an alluring widow who’s not too sad to be seductive, and a clutch of thugs who let their knuckles do the talking, and Mallory has his hands full finding justice for his hero.



The sixties are dead…and so is Ginnie Mullens. She was many things—free spirit, flower child, entrepreneur, gambler—but first and foremost she was mystery writer Mallory’s friend and confidant since childhood. So Mallory understands when Sheriff Brennan drags him out of bed in the dead of night and leads him to the last place he ever wanted to go: the scene of Ginnie’s last breath.

A dead woman clutching the gun that killed her may lead to an official ruling of suicide, but Mallory’s not ruling out murder. Driven by a gaping hole in his heart and a fierce code of honor, he’s willing to risk everything to close the book on this one. Then he’ll throw the book with both hands at whoever wrote Ginnie’s obituary in spilled blood.

Once upon a time, Ginnie hurt Mallory deeply, and he wasn’t the only one. But while he finally forgave her, the same can’t be said for the trail of bitter lovers that stretches back to high school. Pounding the pavement from Port City to Iowa City to Vegas—with detours down memory lane along the way—Mallory is forced to pull back the shroud on a life he only thought he knew…and never realized he couldn’t save.



A mountaintop mansion. A motley collection of guests. A murder. This weekend has all the makings of a classic, cozy mystery story. And a story is all it’s supposed to be—acted out by noted authors and eager fans at the atmospheric Mohonk Mountain House resort in upstate New York.

Along with a gaggle of his peers, Mallory’s been invited to join the fun by donning a costume and an alter-ego to pose as a “suspect.” But before you can say “nobody leaves this room!”, Mallory is once again thrust into the role of driven detective when the game’s designated “corpse” turns up decidedly dead.

There’s no doubt that the victim, notorious mystery-novel critic Kirk Rath, incited the murderous wrath of nearly every writer he reviewed. But even the most scathing critical barbs never drove a writer to put down the pen in favor of the sword. And even Mallory is baffled by the curious circumstances surrounding the mystery within a mystery. Did he actually witness Rath being run through by a masked figure in the snowy darkness? Was Rath really spotted alive and sneering after the bloody fact? Is someone playing mind games? And is everyone in the house fair game?

Murder will out, as they say. But can even the masterful Mallory outwit a roguish gallery of the finest plotters in print?