Tender Is The Bite …

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July 6th, 2022 Posted 7:11 am

… is now in paperback (starting yesterday) for all you people who like to wait for the pb version. And here’s a link to a crime fiction podcast I did with a very smart host.





July 5th, 2022 Posted 7:08 am

Meanwhile Bernie was nodding his head. “Fair enough,” he said. “After high school I caught a real lucky break and got into West Point.”

“Bang bang shoot shoot,” said Rocket.

“That came later. After I got out I went into law enforcement, like lots of ex-military. It turned out I was more suited to private investigation, especially after I teamed up with the right partner.”

“You got a partner?” Rocket said.

What a question! There I was, right in his face!

(from Bark To The Future – coming 8/9, pre-orderdable now)


Happy 4th of July!


July 4th, 2022 Posted 7:45 am

Vladimir Horowitz plays The Stars and Stripes Forever (somehow with only two hands).



Beginnings: Bark To The Future


July 3rd, 2022 Posted 8:12 am

Sunday is for beginnings, when we take a look at the start of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker™. Since we’re just 5 weeks or so from the release of Bark To The Future (the next Chet and Bernie novel, now pre-orderable – in a series that can be read in any order!), how about we got with it?

“Let’s see what this baby can do,” Bernie said.

And there you have it. Bernie’s brilliance, lighting up the whole oil-stained yard at Nixon’s Championship Autobody. Let’s see what this baby can do. Can you imagine anyone else saying that? I sure can’t. I wouldn’t even try, and who knows Bernie better than me? Sometimes humans talk to themselves, as you may or may not know. Humans have a lot going on in their heads. Too much? I couldn’t tell you. But I wouldn’t trade places. Let’s leave it at that. The point is that when they’re talking to themselves they’re trying to dig down through all the too-muchness and get to what’s at the bottom, digging, as it happens, being one of my very best things. Maybe we’ll get to that later. For now, the takeaway is that Bernie talks to himself in front of me. So I know what’s at the bottom of Bernie, way down deep, case closed. Closing cases is what we do, by the way, me and Bernie. We’re partners in the Little Detective Agency – Little on account of that’s Bernie’s last name. Call me Chet, pure and simple. Our cases usually get closed by me grabbing the perp by the pant leg. Although there were no perps around right now and we weren’t even working a case, my teeth got a funny feeling.

Nixon Panero, owner of the shop and our good buddy, patted the hood of our new Porsche. We’ve had others – maybe more than I can count, since things get iffy when I try to go past two – but never one this old. Could I even remember them all? Perhaps not, although I have a very clear picture of the last one in my mind, upside down and soaring through snowy treetops, the windows all blasted out and me and Bernie also in midair, although slightly closer to the ground. I’d miss that Porsche – especially the martini glass decals on the fenders – but this one, with an interesting black and white pattern, as though a normal PD squad car was rippling its muscles, if that makes any sense, looked none too shabby. In fact, and in a strange dreamlike way, a thing of beauty. And to top it off, my seat – the shotgun seat, goes without mentioning – couldn’t have been more comfortable, the leather soft and firm at the same time, and possibly quite tasty. A no no, and I forgot that whole idea at once.

“One last thing,” Nixon said.



The Books

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