99 Cent Mysteries and Thrillers This Weekend!

Check it out! 40+ thriller and mystery ebooks for 99 cents. This weekend only! http://bit.ly/2jGV9SJ 

The Winter Kill now available on Amazon

Thieves and the unsavory of Perth: All in a day’s work for lordless Sir Law Kentour…until a mysterious death in the midst of a Highland blizzard. When the sheriff of Perth demands that Sir Law show that the death was not an inconvenient murder, Law thinks this looks like an easy job. But circumstances seem to conspire against him, and another murder follows. Soon the King's chancellor becomes involved, making the mystery even more dangerous. Not only does the murder investigation keep running into brick walls, his friend Cormac plunges into danger; and Law again encounters the thief who has already been a thorn in his side. When answers start to emerge, Sir Law gets more than he bargained for…

The Winter Kill

A Medieval Mystery Novella

The Winter Kill now available on Amazon

Thieves and the unsavory of Perth: All in a day’s work for lordless Sir Law Kentour…until a mysterious death in the midst of a Highland blizzard. When the sheriff of Perth demands that Sir Law show that the death was not an inconvenient murder, Law thinks this looks like an easy job. But circumstances seem to conspire against him, and another murder follows. Soon the King's chancellor becomes involved, making the mystery even more dangerous. Not only does the murder investigation keep running into brick walls, his friend Cormac plunges into danger; and Law again encounters the thief who has already been a thorn in his side. When answers start to emerge, Sir Law gets more than he bargained for…

The Winter Kill

A Medieval Mystery Novella

The Winter Kill now available on Amazon

Thieves and the unsavory of Perth: All in a day’s work for lordless Sir Law Kentour…until a mysterious death in the midst of a Highland blizzard. When the sheriff of Perth demands that Sir Law show that the death was not an inconvenient murder, Law thinks this looks like an easy job. But circumstances seem to conspire against him, and another murder follows. Soon the King's chancellor becomes involved, making the mystery even more dangerous. Not only does the murder investigation keep running into brick walls, his friend Cormac plunges into danger; and Law again encounters the thief who has already been a thorn in his side. When answers start to emerge, Sir Law gets more than he bargained for…

The Winter Kill

A Medieval Mystery Novella

Celebrating a new novella!

The Winter Kill will be released on Monday, so I am celebrating by putting the first novel in the series free through Wednesday!

The Templar's Cross

Editing On

Hurrah! 

I just received the edit for The Winter Kill from my editor. I'm very pleased with how this novel is working out - finally. It was a tough one. Mysteries are harder than they look. I'll work on the edit for the next week and then it goes for a final proofread. So it looks on schedule for the July 25th release date!

It is now available on preorder on Amazon for only $2.99!

The Winter Kill Now Available For Preorder

Thieves and the unsavory of Perth: All in a day’s work for lordless Sir Law Kentour… until a mysterious death in the midst of a Highland blizzard. When the sheriff of Perth demands that Sir Law show that the death was not an inconvenient murder, Law thinks this looks like an easy job. But circumstances conspire against him, and more murders follow. Soon the king's chancellor becomes involved, and Sir Law is forced to seek help from an unsavoury source. Not only does the murder investigation keep running into brick walls, his friend Cormac to plunges into danger; and Sir Law is forced to work with the thief who has already been a thorn in his side. When answers start to emerge, Sir Law gets more than he bargained for…

The Winter Kill

Big Mystery/Thriller Sale!

Mystery/Thriller Sale today and tomorrow May 13 and 14 
60 Authors - All ebooks only 99 cents! 

reneepawlish.com/promo

Templar's Cross Giveaway!

The Templar's Cross, currently on pre-order on Amazon, will be released for sale on August 7. As a Giveaway for the release I will gift a copy of the novel to any of my Twitter followers who tweets a link to it on that day either on Amazon US or Amazon UK. (It will later be available on Barnes & Noble and Apple)

Not currently following me on Twitter? I'm always pleased to have new followers and my handle is @JRTomlinAuthor.

Once you tweet the link on that day, please DM me with your email address so I can gift the novel to you. And I very much hope you enjoy this novel. It stretched my wings a bit writing it, but it won't be my last medieval mystery.

Sir Law Kintour has returned from the war in France crippled, broke, and in need of a patron. In desperation, he reluctantly accepts a commission to find a nobleman's runaway wife. He enlists the help of a fellow Scot with whom he escaped after their defeat at the Battle of Verneuil. But his friend is murdered, and Law discovers he has been lied to. As the murders continue to mount, powerful interests come into play. When the Sheriff of Perth considers him a convenient scapegoat, it gives Law no choice but to untangle the lies and find the killer or hang for the murders.

US link: http://www.amazon.com/The-Templars-Cross-Medieval-Mystery-ebook/dp/B010BY72NC
US link: http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Templars-Cross-Medieval-Mystery-ebook/dp/B010BY72NC

The Templar's Cross: a snippet

Templar's Cross will be out soon. It goes to my editor next week, so the snippet is not yet edited and takes up about when the last snippet ended.

On the way out of the tavern, Law sat down next to Cormac who had his harp in his lap tuning it. “Do me a favor?”

Cormac raised an eyebrow. “Aye, if I can.”

“Go to the blindman’s tavern and ask quietly if they’ve seen someone with hair so light it is almost white.” He slipped Cormac a merk. “I dinnae have time to go there myself.”

Rain dribbled down Law’s leather cloak, and cold water soaked through the seams of his boots. He turned west on Northgate and sloshed through the gate of North Gate Port where the road became rutted dirt that sucked at his boots as he slogged toward the Whitefriars Abbey. He wasn’t sure if they had a women’s hall since it was smaller than Blackfriars, but he knew it had a men’s guest hall for Duncan had stayed there when they first arrived at Perth. It was a long trek.

The dark hills loomed before him and soon the tree branches met and mingled overhead plunging the path into shadows as though he were passing through a long dark tunnel. The day smelt of rain and mud, and the wind carried a hint of a peat fire somewhere in the distance.  

When he stepped out from under the trees the the stone monastery and its high stone spire stood before him, surrounded by wooden buildings, guest houses, barns and fields of crops and cattle. Between knee-high rows of kale, two friars in brown robes with leather girdles with hoes over their shoulders trudged toward through the mist. There should have been a porter at the gate, but no one answered when he tugged on the bell.

He pushed open the gate and walked to the front door of the church, stamped the mud from his feet, and shook out his cloak. As he had hoped, bells for None, the midafternoon prayers, had not yet rung. Inside, a heavily veiled woman knelt before a statue of the Virgin Mary and another at the altar rail muttered a despairing prayer interspersed with sobs. A gray-haired, tonsured lay brother was polishing a silver reliquary.  Law cleared his throat and the friar looked up at him, allowing Law to catch his eye. The man, hands tucked into his sleeves, made his way to the nave where Law waited.

“Can I help you, my son?” he asked.

“Brother,” Law said with a nod of his head, “Mayhap. I recently returned from the war in France and seek to locate an old friend. I think he may bide in your guesthouse.”

The friar shook his head. “It isn’t the season for pilgrims, so we haven’t any guests with us the now.”

“He’s middling height and his yellow hair is so light it is almost white. Has anyone like that been here in the past weeks?” At the friar’s raised eyebrows, Law explained, “Mayhap I waste my time seeking him, but I’ve few friends left since—” He swallowed. “I was at the Battle of Verneuil, you see. So I am eager to find my one friend.” He knew putting one truth about his past in a tangle of lies made Law would make the story more believable.

The friar quickly crossed himself. “It was a sad day when we heard that news. The king ordered prayers for all lost there, especially the earls. I wish I could help, but no one like that has stayed in our guesthouse.”

“You are certain you’ve not seen anyone of that description?”

Rocking backward and forward on his feet, the friar stared into the distance. “Aye,” he said at thoughtfully, “I did see a stranger similar to what you mentioned not long past, two days ago it was. He was speaking to another man when I was carrying alms to the leper house. But he never abided here, so I fear it is no help to you.”

“No, brother, learning he has been in Perth and may yet be here does indeed help me.”

A bell began to toll above them. “I need to go,” the friar said hastily. “But I wish you well in finding your friend.”

Law pulled his cloak around himself when he went out into the dusk, but the rain had finally stopped. He picked his way along the path, back through the port into the dank streets of the burgh. Blackfriars was on the far north side of the city, and he preferred it was full dark when he met Duncan so he took his time as he walked.

A fog, thin and clammy, blurred the buildings as he passed. The crisp scent of autumn was quickly overlaid with the stench of blood and offal from slaughtering that was done in this part of Perth. His throat closed and he choked on the smell. Shutters were banging closed as he passed the tightly clustered buildings with jetties that thrust out above the street turning it into little more than a warren.  

He passed shadowy shops as the sun sank below the high city walls, shops with bloody beef carcasses stood next to poulterers where dark, motionless lines of birds hung, blighted, as far as he could see into their shadowy depths. The last of sunset’s light faded into black night.

In an open doorway a burly man stood silhouetted in lamplight, a pig’s carcass over his shoulder dripping gore down his apron. “Beannachd leat,” he called out to Law congenially.

Law had never had Gaelic but even he knew a civil good night so he replied, “Mar sin leat,” with a brisk wave.

Blackfriars was out of Perth and into a suburb at the far end of past the Red Brig Port. The street narrowed once through the port and his boots squelched in icy muddy of the roadway. A wing moaned through the pines setting branches to scraping and groaning. A fragment of moon slithered from behind clouds only to hide again. He grunted when he stumbled in a pothole.

Finally, he heard a mournful chant of vespers prayers roll from the monastery: Deus, in adiutorium meum intende. Domine, ad adiuvandum me festina. O Lord, make haste to aid me indeed, Law thought, and snorted softly at his foolishness. If he needed help he’d do better to depend upon his good sword arm for God, if the priests weren’t lying about there being one, did not seem eager to aid him.

Behind the monastery’s high stone walls, beams of light from the windows of the monastery broke the thick darkness or Law might have missed the alley were he was to meet Duncan. Fences on both sides formed a dark passageway.  He peered in and took a step into the narrow path. He didn’t want to call out but apparently Duncan had hidden himself well. Or perhaps he’d given up and gone back to the room he rented above a bakster. The faint chanting from the monastery ceased.

“Duncan, where in Hades are you?” Law called softly.

Running his hand along the damp wooden fence, Law walked into the dark pathway. A blackbird burst out of hiding almost at his feet with a clatter of feathers and a harsh squawk. The waving, pewter moonlight seeped through the clouds to make strange passing shapes on the ground over a dark lump against the dyer’s fence. Then through a break in the clouds a passing gleam of the moonlight reflected in wide-open eyes. The stench of blood and urine and shit mixed with hit Law’s nostrils. He stood frozen, hand on his hilt and then turned in a slow circle searching the shadows. Nothing moved, so he squatted beside the body...

Another snippet from my upcoming historical mystery

To be titled The Templar's Cross this is at an assize the day after the discovery of two dead bodies and Law Cullen, my main character, has been called to testify. Please keep in mind, it is unedited and a first draft:

Sir William’s scowl deepened. “Those clothes would have been worth coin and in the dark at least his cloak would have been easily taken.” He looked at the serjeant. “There is surely no possibility he would have been killed before nightfall.”

The serjeant, who Law was beginning to think might have at least a few more brains than he looked like, shook his head. “Someone would have seen him. It’s likely the stiffness would have started to pass had he been dead sae long.”

The assizer at the front of the group demanded, looking at Law, “You dinnae ken this one? You’re sure of it?”

“I’m sure of it. He does not look like a Scot to me. I never saw a Scot with that color hair.” He chewed his lower lip as he decided how much he should tell as Sir William grunted in agreement. “Mayhap it would be worth asking at the inns and monastery guest houses if they’ve had a guest by his description. There cannae be very many such hereabout.”

 “Yet you have been out of Scotland so you could have met such.”

“He could be English,” one of the assizers with the heavy shoulders of a master of the smith’s guild said.

Law made his face blank with boredom. “No. I never saw this one there, and I’d never take him for a knight or soldier, not even a cleric in those clothes.” Law thrust his chin at the stack of velvet at the foot of the table. “It seems to me the first thing is to find out if anyone has seen him about Perth. Someone must have.”

“Guesses achieve nothing,” Sir William said. “Does anyone have any knowledge to put forward?” When there was a nervous silence to his question, he turned his head to the assize. “Do any of you have any questions to put?”

“When did you agree to tryst for a drink with that one?” The hammersmith pointed toward Duncan. “Did anyone see the two of you to say you were not quarreling?”

“He came up to my room above Cullen’s inn before the none bell. I suppose Wulle Cullen might be able to tell you…?”

The innkeeper crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, the man had been in my inn a handful of times. I cannae say I kent his name. I recall that he went up to yon Sir Law’s room yesterday and it might have been aboot the time he said. When the man came down he had a bowl of my goodwoman’s broth and left. If anything, he seemed more cheerful than before.”

“There is still fighting in France. Would it not have been easier to find a new lord there?” the same man asked.

Law examined the man’s face and wondered what answer would satisfy him. After a moment, he settled on the truth. “I followed my lord there. After he was killed, I had no desire to follow a Frenchman. And...it was time to come home.”

The man nodded, and when Sir William asked there were no more questions. Sir William took a seat in the large chair on the dais that could serve as a throne if the king were in attendance. The serjeant along with one of his men escorted the assizers out of their encloser through a rear door to a jury chamber.

Wulle Cullen wove his way through the crowd to Law. Shrugging, Cormac sauntered in the innkeeper’s wake. He shook his head. “Not oft we see two murders in one day.”

Law grunted. “I suppose not.”

Cormac muttered, “Even less often the murderer doesn’t dump the body in the Tay.”

“Wheest, Cormac, mind your place” Wulle scolded and got a glare for his trouble. “I wonder if they will take long. You’d think they wouldn’t have much to consider.”

“I suppose they must consider if it was I who did the deed.” He breathed a soft laugh through his nose. “I’ve killed more than a few in battles, but I’m no murderer.”

“Och, with so many of our men the fighting with the English in France, more than a few have done that.” The innkeeper slapped Law’s shoulder. “This testifying is thirsty work. I’ll draw you a mug of ale when we bide at home and no charge to you.”

“That’s kind of you,” Law said.

A thin, undersized man, his dark, stringy hair hanging over his small eyes in greasy locks, sidled close.

“Get away,” Wulle barked.

As Law stared after him, the man darted back into the onlookers.  “Who was that?” he asked the other two men.

Cormac shrugged. “What? No ale for me? You’re a tight-fisted bugger, Wulle.”

Ignoring the minstrel, Wulle said, “Dave Tailor, he’s called. Mayhap he tailors his clothes from the rats he catches.” Wulle snickered but his face straightened as he pointed at a door that a guard had pulled open. “Here comes the assize. I thought t’would not take them long.”

The fifteen men of the assize filed through the door held open by the serjeant and proceeded solemnly to the enclosure. A buzz of speculation went through the chamber. Sir William roused himself from dozing and stood. Once the serjeant climbed the steps to the dias and shouted for silence. Sir William briefly reminded the assize of the verdicts they were expected to bring and asked who would speak for them.

The burly hammersmith who had questions Law took a step forward. “I shall, my lord. Androu Gray, master smith.”

“And what has the assize found on the first death, Androu?”

 “We’re agreed that it is Duncan Kintour, and the death was foul murder by stabbing.”

“Very good. And do you agree to who saw to the death?”

“No, on that we could not. Two thought that it was yon Sir Law but the rest of us held that there was no way to ken who had done the deed.”

A hubbub started up and everyone in the room seemed to turn to mutter about the verdict. Law dropped a hand onto his hilt but most of the crowd seemed to agree.

The serjeant shouted for order. It took several shouts but after a few minutes the din quieted. 

“Keep silent or I’ll clear the room except for the assize,” Sir William said. “Now, Androu, what is the verdict on the second death?”

“We do not ken who is he, but most of us think he is an Englishman. Some have whitish hair like thon. It is obvious how he died, by murder from having his throat slit.” The smith frowned toward the draped corpse. “But it is a different kind of stroke. We thought it was most likely not the same hand that struck the blow.”

Snippet of my work in progress: a historical mystery!

Sadly it doesn't yet have a title. It is my first historical mystery, and here are the first few pages (unedited). Hope you find it at least somewhat interesting

Here goes:

Through a gray curtain of drizzle, Law looked down from his window at the muck of the High Street. Narrow shops where the shutters were closed against the damp chill, under the shadow of out-thrusting overhangs, moldering plaster walls interspersed with graying timber uprights. All of the outlying suburbs of Perth were like this; narrow vendels that lead to a street of drear houses crammed with the leavings of their betters. After spreading his gaze across the rooftops of Perth to the murky ghost-spire of Kirk of St. John the Baptist and the River Tay, he snapped the shutters closed.

A tiny peat fire in a brazier threw fingers of red across Law Kintour’s wobbly table. The room was small, smaller even than his tent in the days when he’d followed the Douglas to war. His narrow pallet bed was against the opposite wall to that he shared with his landlord Wulle Cullen and his wife. The meager bits of furniture were rented with the room. A wooden kist near the door held the few belongings he had salvaged from disaster in France.

Loud voices that nearly drowned out the sound of a minstrel playing a vielle filtered up to Law through the cracks in the wooden floor above Cullen’s tavern. The tavern was jammed between a brewster and a bakster, the daub thin and flaking. The ground floor boasted a barrel of ale on a trestle, stools, a couple of benches and a long trestle table for eating. Bette Cullen could usually be found stirring a pot of broth that hung from a crane over a peat fire on the hearth whilst gray-haired Wulle bustled about tending to the customers.

Law sat and hunched over the mutton broth he’d ordered from downstairs, though it had more of barley, onions and kale with only a hint of meat to it. He quickly ate it since he’d let it get cold, but he sopped the bowl clean with a hunk of oat bannock. When there was a tap on the door, he looked up with a belch.

Frowning, he called out, “Aye?”

Cormac MacEda opened the door. He was a lanky young man whose striped red and cream doublet with crumpled red ribbons at the seams Law always thought regrettable even for a minstrel. But his eyes were blue and playful in a boyish face. He closed the door behind him, lounged against it, and said, “There is a man in the tavern looking for you. Says his name is Erskyn.”

“Looking to hire a man-at-arms?”

“Mayhap. You’ll want to talk to him. He has siller enow to judge by his dress.”

“Send him up, lad,” Law said. “Send him up.”

Cormac opened the door again and took the rickety stairs down to the the inn. Law stood, smoothed his shabby doublet and tugged it down to try to hide the small hole mid-thigh in his hose. He’d dumped out the night-soil bucket this morning. After years in military camps, he didn’t leave his belongings flung about, not that he had many. Poor though he was, he kept his meager room as neat as he could. Hopefully, someone desiring to add a lordless knight to his tail would look for no more.

A harsh, rasping voice on the stairway said, “Aye, I see the way. Leave us the now.”

The door was flung open and a man strode in. He half-turned, scowling down the stairs until Cormac was out of sight. He was a tanned, erect man in his mid-thirties, wiry and medium height, fine looking in spite of the deep lines that scored from his nostrils past his thin mouth. Dark hair curled around his forehead and over the back of his neck. His nose was high-bridged and his eyes oddly bright.

Law had no doubt that the man was accustomed to barking commands and having them obeyed. He looked the man over, trying to assess what lay beneath the confident gaze. His black velvet houppenlande trimmed with marten hung in organ pleats to his knees. It would have been fashionable even in the court of France. A sword with a gem-encrusted hilt and engraved scabbard hung at this belt.

He swept his gaze warily around the room before he locked his eyes upon Law. “Sir Law Cullen?”

“At your service...” Law raised his eyebrows.

“I am Lord Erskyn.”

Law bowed and with a sword-calloused hand indicated the stool he had vacated, the only seating in the room other than his pallet.

The man nodded briskly before scanning the stairway once more and pulling the door firmly shut. He ignored the stool to take a slow turn around the room. The plaintive notes of Cormac’s vielle came through the floor and the sound of a strident, drunken laugh. A ragged spatter of rain clattered against the shutters. The ashes of the dying peat fire in the brazier twitched and flickered. The caller watched them with uneasy eyes.

“What might I do for you, my lord?”

“I have heard you served the Earl of Douglas in France,” the man said at last. “And were in his confidence.”

James swallowed a protest that his master had been Duke of Touraine when Law followed him into that final battle. “Aye, that is true at least in some degree.”

“Good.” The man nodded sharply, his thin mouth in a tight line. He frowned at the closed door.

Law nodded again. Erskyn was not a lord’s name he had heard before, but he had been away from Scotland more than in it until his lord’s death. Yet he was certain he would have heard if the man was from Perth even in the two months since his return. The thought of his lord’s death and his own reception at the hands of the new earl on his return curdled his belly so he pushed the thought away. For now, he needed a new patron and from the look of it, this man had the siller to afford knights to follow him. “And you heard I was seeking a new patron,” Law prodded.

“Tell me about yourself, Sir Law. If I am to employ you, I believe I have the right to ask.”

“There is little to tell, my lord. I am thirty years old. I was a squire in the Earl Archibald’s household and knighted by his hand. Was with in him France when he was made a Duke.” Law crossed to the window and opened a shutter to peer through the murk. “I was at his side when he fell in battle.”

“Yet lived yourself to tell the tale,” Erskyn said in an acid tone.

“Aye. Some might call it luck that I took a blow to the head. A...fellow knight pulled me out of a pile of bodies, or I might have died there after all.” The new earl had demanded why he hadn’t died defending his lord before he tossed Law a purse with a few gold for the news of his father’s death before he informed Law that he had no use for him in his own tail. Law strode from castle rather than be expelled out by the glaring men-at-arms. “The two of us managed to make our way back home, but…” He shrugged and turned back to find the man studying him with narrowed eyes..

“I am concerned with a secret matter.”

“You have no one in your service, no servant, you would trust?” This seemed odd.

“It would be a tempting piece of tittle-tattle. But you are not kent in Edinburgh to spread it about.”

Law stiffened. “If I give my word to keep silent, that is what I do, my lord.”

“My lady wife has disappeared--” He threw himself down on the stool and leaned his arms on his legs, hands dangling between his knees. “If it were kent, I would be a laughingstock. In the court. Even in the servant’s quarters. They’d snicker behind my back and sneer to my face. Call me a cuckold. She must be found before this scandal is noised about.”

Interview with Mystery Writer David H. Fears

I'd like to introduce David H. Fears, author of the "Dark" series of hardboiled mysteries, set in Chicago in the early 1960s, historically accurate; lots of seduction and love triangles; sleuthing; complex plots and an interesting, likable hero. 

Thanks for answering some questions about writing a series of novels that combines hardboiled mystery with a historical setting, David. 


So when did you start writing? What was it you first wrote?

David:  The first grade. "Girl" was my first written word. The rest is history. Seriously, I came to fiction writing late in life, in my early 50's. I had to flush my academese style and learn the craft one item at a time. I did haunt some online crit circles, but am mostly self-taught.

What period do you write about and why? 


David: The early 1960s. I think because it is so rich in social change, reform, corruption, and also a simpler time for many Americans, if a stressful time for the nation. Also, I came of age in the late 50s, early 60s and know the time well.

What is your theory or belief on how historically accurate you need to be? How does that affect your story? For alternative history writers: how did you decide to change history? How do you reconcile it with “real” history?

Davd: My approach (not necessarily a "theory") is to utilize real events, places & people, then weave my fictional story & characters around historical accuracy. I don't make up events beyond that. In the 6 novels I've done I have used each subsequent year, beginning in 1960. I've included the following real events/people: Trenton Prison Riots of the 1950s, 60s. Purple Gang of Detroit; Mayor Daley's corrupt Chicago administration; police reformer O.W. Wilson; French Bonnot Gang; Portland corruption of the 50s, 60s, Big Jim Elroy, Stanley Terry rackeeters, Police chief, Mayor Schrunk, etc. I don't change history to fit the fiction of the novel, but adapt the fiction to fit history. Some names are fictional beyond the main characters.

Tell us about your main character, real or fictional and why? 

David: Mike Angel is a young man (30; fictional) who came out of Korea to join the police force with his father in NYC; like his father he refused to be on the take but also couldn't stand the administrative BS and control. He quit the force after his father retired and had just completed his first case as a PI. Mike then took up the torch to follow in his father's footsteps, but had misgivings all along if that was his true calling.  He struggles with a conflict about commitment and fidelity throughout the novels about women and one particular woman, Molly Bennett. His weakness is women in trouble who find him in each episode. Over 6 novels to 1965 he evolves somewhat, settling in as a fist-first but good investigator and slowly commits to Molly.

What is the most surprising thing in the period you write about? Do you run into common misperceptions? How do you deal with them in your fiction?

David: I was somewhat shocked at the level of crime, corruption, dirty cops, illegal gambling, prostitution, etc., especially in my hometown of Portland, where the last novel, Dark Moon, takes place. I deal with these by using real exposes, names, events, etc., and by immersing Mike into complex plots that make solving cases difficult.  

Who would you most like to meet from one of your novels? Tell us about them.

David: Ah, well, I suppose in some ways I've met each of my main characters, since I've lifted pieces here and there from folks I've known. Since I share Mike's sarcastic and smartass sense of humor, especially as he relates to his late father's retired NYPD detective Rick Anthony, I'd like most to meet Mike. I've met Molly already!

What is your next project? 

David: I'm continuing the last volume of a 4 vol reference work on Mark Twain, Mark Twain Day By Day. This is pure history using all available primary sources and much secondary work.  I have 4 more trips to make to UC Berkeley and the Mark Twain Project to read some 3,000 incoming letters to Twain. I have had small stirrings for a 7th Mike Angel novel but am letting that pearl choke on the irritation for a few months.

Do you use a pen name and why?

David: David H Fears (I use Mike Angel on the KB writers cafe, my protagonist's name. Much of the time HE comes out in my posts there--am I a split personality? Well, with my personality some split might help. I have written over 100 short stories and had a couple dozen published in print & ezine under the name DH Henry. I used it because many of my tales involved tail-chasing, and I suppose I wanted to see how they'd go over first. I self-published a print collection of them in 2001 from which I made a small amount after a 500 book run. I've also uploaded 44 of the best shorts on Amazon using the old DH Henry name. I now write only under my own name.

Thanks for vising, David. I really appreciate your time and the interesting answers.

Want a good mystery? Want more action for the buck? Try getting into Mike Angel's "Dark" Series: 

Dark Quarry is FREE until Christmas at Smashwords or available on Amazon. 

That is just one of this great series along with Dark Idol, Dark Lake, Dark Blonde, Dark Poison, and, just released, Dark Moon.

Review of Accomplished in Murder - Historical Mystery Novella by Dara England

Accomplished in Murder is a charming and well-written historical mystery set in Victorian England. It begins with the recently wed Celeste writing to her friend Druscilla Winterbourne to say that only if Druscilla joins her in Cornwall will Celeste feel safe. However, when Druscilla arrives, her dear friend has died under mysterious circumstances. Druscilla is determined, of course, to unravel the mystery.

I was very taken with Ms. England's writing. It had the right period feel without frills and flourishes so many authors use to try to achieve that.

The author also does very well with giving a period feel without extensive descriptions. You never have that uncomfortable feeling of having to hew your way through the period descriptions with a scythe. Instead, it is well combined with the action and dialogue. Clearly, you are in Victorian England but the author doesn't try to smother the landscape with her research, which I have no doubt at all that she did. I am as picky as you can get on historical accuracy, and this novel passes the historical accuracy test.

The mystery itself is exactly what one would want in a cozy mystery, although I must admit that is not one of my favorite sub-genres. However, for anyone who enjoys the sub-genre, this supplies the mysterious death of a friend, the oddly-behaving characters, and determined non-detective requisite for a cozy. However, that doesn't mean that her plotting is predictable. She had several plot twists I didn't see coming. As a short mystery, it is very satisfying.

However, I must admit there was one important area I did not think was as well done. I am afraid that the characterizations, even of Druscilla, the main character, seemed thin. I admit that in a novella, which this is, might give less scope for extensive characterization, but since it is only 17,000 words, the author could have included substantially more characterization without exceeding novella length. There are a number of other characters who would have been very enjoyable to see more extensively developed. Don't get me wrong. The characters were diverse and interesting, but I never felt I got to know them with any depth.

Now some people don't mind slight character development in cozy mysteries. Christie's strength, for example, was never her character development, so this may or may not be a problem for many of Ms. England's readers. However, for me, it is a pretty large fault. I still enjoyed this novella and would recommend it for a short, light summer read, but not as enthusiastically as I would otherwise.

For me, on the Librarything scale, this is Four stars.

You can buy Accomplished in Murder on Amazon.

Review -- Dark Quarry by David H. Fears

Dark Quarry is the first of a series of hard-boiled mysteries featuring investigator Mike Angel by author David H. Fears. I happen to like the hard-boiled genre, so I was happy to take a look at this novel.

I must admit that I found it a bit hard to get into. The author was trying to tell too much, too soon, and he was doing a bit too much telling without letting me get into the story.

As is so often the case, the story was about a murderous woman and Mike Angel falling for her. I thought it was a bit of a problem that Angel had already started the investigation and fallen for her when the novel started. Without having gotten to know the characters at all, the reader has to believe that he would cover up her murder of her husband quite so readily. This involves piling quite a lot of backstory in the first chapter.

As I said, this makes the mystery a bit hard to get into, and while metphors and similes are traditional to the hard-boiled genre, the author also piles those on a little heavily in the first chapter. Unfortunately, I suspect a lot of readers may not get past those initial problems, because Dark Quarry is a good mystery and very well written.

Once the author slows down and relaxes into his writing, in chapter two the story starts getting interested as the author gets away from backstory and starts showing the character of Mike Angel in action. The plot took some twists that surprised me, a good thing in a mystery. The writing is solid and the pacing, after that first chapter, nice and brisk.

The dead body in Chapter one might be a little too soon, and I questioned whether Mike Angel really would have covered up for Kimbra. But in the next chapter as the author brings in more characters and you start to understand Mike more, it starts to make sense and, of course, as expected, Kimbra isn't someone he necessarily should have helped. Soon she has taken off, and so has a lot of money.

The plot, which then brings in a mobster gang known as the Purple gang, gets a lot more complicated than you would first expect with Mike convicted of murder, an escape from prison and more I'd rather you read about in the novel. I also started to like the Mike Angel character once I had time to get to know him. He had an interesting voice and background. I also enjoyed that this was set in Chicago rather than LA or the West Coast as is so typical. It had a great feel for that city and the corruption so rife there.

So while I can't say this novel is without faults, the good definitely outweighs the bad. If you're a fan of the hard-boiled genre, Dark Quarry is a fun read.

You can buy Dark Quarry on Amazon and Smashwords.