That is the upside of being Mickey. The downside: Mickey has a lot of enemies, and one of them drives the shaft of a golf club through his heart, leaving him dead in a sand trap at his exclusive country club... Just a few weeks earlier, the slippery lawyer earned an acquittal for Alan Comstock, the man accused of murdering Virgil Cain's wife. Comstock, a legendary record producer, gun nut, and certifiable lunatic, has returned to his estate, where he lives with his long-suffering wife. And after Virgil was overheard telling a crowded bar that 'somebody ought to blow Mickey's head off', the cops, led by dim-witted detective Joe Brady, quickly focus their attention on Virgil as the prime suspect. It appears to Virgil that the fix is in when Brady immediately throws him into jail with no questions asked. So Virgil escapes from custody, determined to set things right and find Mickey's killer himself. Everybody is convinced that Virgil is the culprit. His only ally is the smart and sexy Claire Marchand, a detective who is at least willing to consider that Virgil is telling the truth. Now it is up to Virgil to convince everyone of his innocence - by finding the killer, before the killer finds him... Praise for Brad Smith 'Brad Smith is a writer with lots of skill, lots of heart, lots of brains.' - Richard Russo 'Brad Smith has got the goods - he's funny, poignant, evocative, and he tells a blistering tale' - Dennis Lehane 'Smith has marvellous control of his material, effortlessly mixing laugh-out-loud comedy with streaks of country noir that call to mind Daniel Woodrell' - Booklist Brad Smith was born and raised in southern Ontario. He has worked as a farmer, signalman, insulator, truck driver, bartender, schoolteacher, maintenance mechanic, roofer, and carpenter. He lives in a eighty-year-old farmhouse near the north shore of Lake Erie. His novel, One-Eyed Jacks was nominated for the Dashiell Hammett Prize.

    She doesn’t believe that Edmund House — a convicted rapist and the man condemned for Sarah’s murder — is the guilty party. Motivated by the opportunity to obtain real justice, Tracy became a homicide detective with the Seattle PD and dedicated her life to tracking down killers.When Sarah’s remains are finally discovered near their hometown in the northern Cascade mountains of Washington State, Tracy is determined to get the answers she’s been seeking. As she searches for the real killer, she unearths dark, long-kept secrets that will forever change her relationship to her past — and open the door to deadly danger.

     On the surface Lost Trail is a picture-perfect western town, offering a simple way of life revolving around the local ranches and ski hill, but Zak knows the truth behind the façade. When his old school friend Tiff Masterson, whose family owns a local Christmas tree farm, moves back to town, the two of them join forces to get to the truth about the murder. Bitter Roots is the first of three Bitter Root Mysteries.

    OR SO DANGEROUS... PI Dev Haskell wakes up one morning in dire need of an asprin, a cup of coffee, and an hour in the sauna. It seems he's just spent a wild night with his beautiful bombshell of a client, Kerri, and she's left him a note. A smart and sly man who fancies himself just a little more savvy and debonair than reality confirms, Dev thinks he's got it made. But he has absolutely no idea what he's getting into when he agrees to track down Kerri's sister Nikki. Turns out both women are involved in an elaborate human trafficking ring with Braco the Whacko, a notorious Russian mobster, at the helm. Soon Dev finds himself at odds with local police, Homeland Security, and an FBI task force, as well as in and out of the hospital thanks to a gunshot wound and a bit of shrapnel in the rear, not to mention on the run from a neurotic underworld boss and a psychotic killer: it must be love... In a bizarre but compelling mixture of crime and offbeat comedy, Dev proceeds to messily balance both sides of the law in a wacky tale that will keep you on your toes while laughing out loud.

    This left him unconscious on the floor of my home. Amazingly, this bullet did not kill him. Ten years ago I adopted Blue as a present to myself after I broke up with my boyfriend one hot, early summer night with the windows open and the neighborhood listening. The next morning I went straight to the pound in Bushwick, Brooklyn. Articles on buying your first dog tell you never to buy a dog on impulse. They want you to be prepared for this new member of your family, to understand the responsibilities and challenges of owning a dog. Going to the pound because you need something in your life that's worth holding onto is rarely, if ever, mentioned. I asked the man at the pound to show me the biggest dogs they had. He showed me some seven-week-old Rottweiler-German shepherd puppies that he said would grow to be quite large. Then he showed me a six-month-old shepherd that would get pretty big. Then he showed me Blue, the largest dog they had. The man called him a Collie mix and he was stuffed into the biggest cage they had, but he didn't fit. He was as tall as a Great Dane but much skinnier, with the snout of a collie, the markings of a Siberian husky, the ears and tail of a shepherd and the body of a wolf, with one blue eye and one brown. Crouched in a sitting position, unable to lie down, unable to sit all the way up, he looked at me from between the bars, and I fell in love. "He's still underweight," the man in the blue scrubs told me as we looked at Blue. "I'll tell you, lady, he's pretty but he's skittish. He sheds, and I mean sheds. I don't think you want this dog." But I knew I wanted him. I knew I had to have him. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Blue cost me $108. I brought him home, and we lived together for years. He was, for most of our relationship, my only companion. But when I first met Blue, a lifetime ago now, I had family and friends. I worked at a crappy coffeehouse. I was young and lost; I was normal. Back then, at the beginning of this story, before I'd ever seen a corpse, before Blue saved my life, before I felt what it was like to kill someone in cold blood, I was still Joy Humbolt.I'd never even heard the name Sydney Rye.P.S. The dog does not die.**Beware: If you can’t handle a few f-bombs, you can’t handle this series.**

    When robbed of their money and passports, they seek help from the U.S. Embassy in Dar es Salaam on the very day Al Qaeda chooses to bomb it. In an eyeblink they are taken hostage and whisked across the border deep into the Congo, one of the last truly wild places left on earth.Battling terrorists, deadly wildlife, and cannibalistic rebels, Scarlett and Sal must find a way to survive in a violent, primeval world. And the only person who may be able to save them is the assassin sent to kill them.

    Sustaining severe injuries, he reluctantly takes early retirement fromthe police force. Estranged from his ex-wife and young son, but desperate to return to their affections, Crow tries to rebuild his life. In a struggle to regain his former independence, strength and purpose, he starts a private investigation practice. ​ ​ ​To bring some muscle to the operation, Crow teams up with his old school friend and former college football player, Don Hanson. Don’s colorful personality contrasts with Crow’s no-nonsense approach to make a unique team. Like most new companies, business starts slowly but then quickly takes flight when a public figure hires him to find a missing person. Find a missing person? Simple enough, especially with his experience, but it soon becomes apparent that they're out of their depth.​Tony Crow pits his small team against a formidable opposition, as he becomes aware of dark secrets and hidden agendas that could bring them down without a trace, and affect the future of America.