Harry’s a blackjack dealer at the Flamingo in Las Vegas. The kind of guy you’d never notice. Ordinary-looking, inconspicuous, practically invisible. Lives in a little apartment behind the hotel. Been working graveyard shift for twelve years now. Got no life of any consequence.

But one night Petra sits down at his table, and then…

Best of all, it’s only 99¢! Check it out. You won’t be sorry.

And while you’re there, check out some of his other reviews, equally insightful, including a now-classic review of The Greek Seaman by Jacqueline Howett. That one has so far attracted 309 comments. That’s not a misprint. 309! Believe me when I tell you, all of cyberspace was buzzing about this review and the subsequent comments. It’s worth a look.

Here’s the deal with this book. It’s the first in a trio of novels set in Key West. What I want to do is lift the veil off this town and reveal it as a true noir city, on a par with Los Angeles, New Orleans, or Miami. You won’t find any margarita-guzzling goofballs in these pages, no clichéd characters.

People have told me not to do this, that readers actually want all that quirky stuff. They tell me readers want to open a book about Key West and feel like they’ve stepped into a Jimmy Buffett song. Word is, readers won’t accept Key West as having a dark center. Well, maybe they’re right, but I’m hoping they’re wrong. I’ve lived here for the better part of 20 years and I can easily say it’s a noir city. Rest assured you will find no Margaritaville stereotypes between these covers. Just noir, baby!

This is not a trilogy in that there’s no continuing story arc. Each novel is a standalone. But there are recurring secondary characters and locales, and of course, Key West itself is a great character in each book.

Now here’s a brief description:

Key West, 1991. Don Roy Doyle is back in town. Tough and quick-witted, he’s fresh out of prison, where he served three years for a diamond swindle. Now he’s back to collect his share of the proceeds, about $200,000, but the money has vanished.

A local family dynasty which has controlled the island’s politics for generations, a cop with a grudge, the FBI, and the Russian mob all have a stake in the action. They’re convinced Cuba is on the verge of “opening up”, and they all want Doyle gone.

In this tightly-knit town, who can be trusted? And how long can Doyle stay alive?

SETUP ON FRONT STREET takes you inside the world of Key West noir, a world tucked way back in the shadows, where the tourists never go.

The print version is $12.95, the ebook is $2.99. Print will be up in a few days. The ebook is available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Also, if you would be so kind, please go to the CreateSpace Preview Gallery, where there is a gripping excerpt from this novel, and leave a rating. It just takes a second.

While the story was partly inspired by an old country song by the great Gene Watson, called Love In The Hot Afternoon, it’s not the first thing I’ve written that sprang from a song.  Three of my novels were inspired by just bits of songs, in some cases only two or three lines.  The Take, a noir novel which was recently picked up by L&L Dreamspell Publishing and will be released in 2010, came out of just two lines in the Marty Robbins song, El Paso.  The novel is a contemporary crime story, not a western, but nevertheless, the idea for it was revealed to me in those two lines.

I’ve heard of authors whose novels have emerged from flimsier ingredients:  the sight of rain hitting the street, the way a woman sashays into a bar, a fleeting memory of a long-ago moment, a newspaper headline, even dreams.  Anyone got any such stories they’d like to tell?

I’m a crime fiction writer, living in Las Vegas, who’s been toiling in the vineyards for years until L&L Dreamspell Publishing picked up one of my novels, The Take.  It’s a fast-paced little noir effort that will be out sometime in 2010.   Thanks go to Morgan St James for her energetic efforts in helping me with the preliminary editing.  You can read an excerpt of it here on this site. 

I’ve always admired the best of the crime novelists.  I’m talking about hardboiled fiction guys like Jim Thompson, Charles Willeford, David Goodis, Gil Brewer, and Raymond Chandler, among others, who between them, managed to kick the door open a crack or two, all the while operating under the stigma of  “pulp” writer.  They made it ”respectable” to write crime fiction, elitist public opinion notwithstanding.  Later, you had Lawrence Block, Donald Westlake, Elmore Leonard, James Ellroy, and so many others who shoved the door all the way open so guys like me could just walk right through it.  Speaking only for myself, I owe these men a serious debt of gratitude.