Rumpled 1950's sleuth, Axel Hatchett, is summoned to the Flinders Manor to prevent the crime of a millionaire's murder. After a fierce blizzard knocks out the power and closes the roads, Hatchett is trapped in the cozy but deadly candle-lit mansion with an eccentric and sometimes comic array of terrified guests and servants. Axe is determined to solve the mystery, but his only clue is a sinister gray toupee. After spending a couple of nights dodging arrows, finding threatening notes delivered by dagger-point, and hearing disembodied banshee screams, he decides he's up against a well-armed lunatic, or two in this humorous noir novel. __________ Rumpled 1950's shamus Axel Hatchett still gets nightmares over his case of the Slayer In A Gray Toupee, the third novel in his Axel Hatchett Mystery series. Here's what he says about it. "I've been afraid of bald guys and snowstorms ever since I worked this case. Think of it, I was trapped in an old mansion in the middle of a storm that knocked out the electricity and froze the water pipes. My fellow inmates were a bunch of scared servants and eccentric guests, one of whom I had reason to believe was set on murder. The only clue to the impending crime I feared would take place was a cheap toupee sent with a threatening note sent to the Flinders Manor's owner. "Even though the old cook working in Flinders Mansion was as good as they get-she had a cozy little kitchen about twice the size of the former motel cottage I live in--being trapped in the dark with a crazed killer kind of took away my appetite. Good thing I still liked my cigars. My host kept his humidor stocked with swell Cubans. They burned like a dream and helped light my way. "After passing a couple of nights dodging arrows, finding death notes with daggers stuck to them, and listening to disembodied banshee screams, my naturally sweet nature began to fray at the edges. I needed to find whoever it was who was wanting to kill my host before the murder could occur. And I was beginning to worry about my own neck. "I had plenty of suspects, including a smooth-talking butler, an ex-cop who'd been thrown off the force, and a none-too-humorous guy who went around dressed in a court jester's costume. Talk about creepy company! I was able to track down my client's would-be assassin, but not before somebody else became a corpse. Boy was I glad when the snowstorm ended and I could go home." Keep warm, Axe, and keep the lights on.
About the Author: Steven LeRoy Nelson is an award-winning humorist whose short fiction has appeared in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, The Leviathan, Fire and Ice, and numerous other publications. He lives in Colorado and, when not researching poisons and polishing his skull collection, is working on his 10th novel. Visit him at his website at: www.stevenleroynelson.com