Publisher: Rainbow Books, Inc.
ISBN-13: 978-1-56825-126-4
Publication date: August 2011
Category: detective fiction
Suggested BISAC Codes:
FIC022010 FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Hard-
Boiled
FIC050000 FICTION / Crime
Pages: 225
Binding: perfect-bound trade softcover
Trim size: 5.5 by 8.5 inches
Back Matter: Next-in-series teaser
Price: $16.95
About Falling Immortality—
Debut, hard-boiled mystery fiction for men. Stephen King’s
son describes a fitting genre as MANfiction (the opposite of
Chick lit). Casey Holden, former cop, current PI in Virginia
Beach, VA, screens his clients the way he screens his women, based on whichever drop-dead gorgeous woman happens to waltz through his door first and manages to hold his attention.
So when Felicity Farren, widow-at-large, struts into his office asking him to solve the two-year-old murder of her husband Artis, she intrigues him. When Casey starts digging, he learns the murder isn’t what it seems to be and he doesn’t have a big enough shovel to unearth the truth. And to top it all off,
his former rival at the police department, Greg Gilman, is determined to disrupt his investigation. Casey's challenge is to learn what really happened to Artis, and why Gilman can’t
seem to remove his head from his butt. And he’ll need all of his wits to complete the task.
About the Author: Robert Downs—
Robert aspired to be a writer before he realized how difficult the writing process was. Fortunately, he’d already fallen in love with the craft, otherwise Casey might never have seen print. Originally from West Virginia, Robert has lived in Virginia, Massachusetts, and now resides in New Mexico.
Excerpt
I watched her go, and I had watched her come — I couldn’t
decide which was more entertaining. If she didn’t smoke like a chimney,
lie through her teeth and have me beaten in the age department by
at least fifteen years, I might have been more interested in her
horizontal activities.
Heaving a sigh of resignation, I pushed myself from my desk
chair and cleaned up the mess on my desk. With a sheet of paper I
scooted the remaining ashes from my desk into the wastepaper basket
and poured myself a fresh cup of coffee.
Back at my desk and sipping my coffee, I gave the unlucky Artis
Farren some thought. It sounded like a case of being in the wrong
place at the wrong time. That had happened to me on several occasions,
but I’d never been caught with my pants down. I didn’t sleep with
married women.
Two years was a long time to pick up on a case, but I’d known
cases to play dead longer only to come roaring back to life. Normally
when cases remain unsolved it is for one of two reasons: the murderer
was really good, or it wasn’t supposed to be solved. Since the murderer
whacked poor Artis in an open bar with plenty of witnesses, I figured
this was one I wasn’t supposed to solve.
Though I didn’t have a client in gone-with-the-wind Felicity,
suddenly it made no-never-mind. I wanted to jump right in. Tell me
no, and I’ll tell you yes!
I picked up my cell phone — I had three new messages; I erased
them all. I wanted a clean slate ahead. Then I punched in the number
of my best friend, Ian Jackard.
“Not you . . . again,” Ian answered in his usual pessimistic fashion.
Ever the eternal optimist, I said, “How did you know it was me?”
“Caller ID,” he said. “You might want to try it sometime, Casey. Plus,
you’re too predictable. What case are you working on now?”
“How do you know I’m working on a case?”
“Because you don’t call me when you’re on vacation.”
It was true; I didn’t. When I took time off I kept work as far away
as possible. I’m good at keeping my problems at bay, and they’re still
there when I come back. I liked to deal with problems, and I liked it
even better when I could solve them. Some problems were easier than
others, but not all problems were created equal. I had called Ian to find
out just how tough my new problem was. None of my problems ever
turned out to be small. “I need a favor,” I said.
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