Still suffering nightmares from a case that ended tragically, brilliant freelance crime consultant Scott Drayco considers retiring from crime solving altogether. When a former client bequeaths Drayco a rundown Opera House in a Virginia seaside town, he figures he'll arrange for a quick sale of the place while nursing his battered soul in a peaceful setting near the shore.
What he doesn't count on is finding a dead body on the Opera House stage with a mysterious "G" carved into the man's chest. With hopes for a quick sale dashed and himself a suspect in the murder, Drayco digs into very old and very dangerous secrets to solve the crime and clear his name. Along the way, Drayco must dodge a wary sheriff, hostility over coastal development, and the seductive wife of a town councilman - before the tensions explode into more violence and he becomes the next victim.
Genre: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / GeneralPLAYED TO DEATH sold over 1,000 copies before I put it on permafree as an ebook across all digital platforms (although the translated version *won't* be free). When the book was promoted by Bookbub, there were approximately 110,000 free downloads across all platforms.
It was a helluva welcome to a town. More a raw wound on the landscape than a sign—with large red letters weeping down the front of muddy plywood: Cape Unity, Home of Real Americans! Developers and Other Devils Turn Back Now! Scott Drayco hoped to take in some sights near the waters of the Chesapeake Bay, but this wasn’t what he had in mind.
The overlook next to the sign was deserted except for Drayco in his vintage Oldsmobile Starfire, its indigo paint coordinating like bruised skin with the amber sky. He climbed out and looked toward the Bay. The Atlantic Ocean on the opposite side of the Peninsula lay hidden from view by barrier islands, but it wasn’t hard to imagine long-ago European immigrants in fragile ships catching sight of these shores. Perhaps he shared more in common with those exhausted pilgrims than he cared to admit.
The cold wind blew stinging sprays of saltwater into his eyes, but it felt good. One way to know he was no longer hemmed in by an urban metropolis. Not to mention that unmistakable shore aroma, Eau de Seaweed with a pinch of fish market. He had to keep pushing wind-swept hair out of his eyes, his fingers pulling away dark strands. His barber said mid-thirties was a bit early to go bald, just lay off the stress and “you’ll be fine.” Maybe next lifetime.
