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A mountaintop mansion. A motley collection of guests. A murder. This
weekend has all the makings of a classic, cozy mystery story. And a
story is all it’s supposed to be-acted out by noted authors and eager
fans at the atmospheric Mohonk Mountain House resort in upstate New York. Along with a gaggle of his peers, Mallory’s been invited to join the fun
by donning a costume and an alter-ego to pose as a suspect. But before you
can say nobody leaves this room! , Mallory is once again thrust into the
role of driven detective when the game’s designated corpse turns up
decidedly dead. There’s no doubt that the victim, notorious mystery-novel critic Kirk
Rath, incited the murderous wrath of nearly every writer he reviewed. But
even the most scathing critical barbs never drove a writer to put down the
pen in favor of the sword. And even Mallory is baffled by the curious
circumstances surrounding the mystery within a mystery. Did he actually
witness Rath being run through by a masked figure in the snowy darkness? Was
Rath really spotted alive and sneering after the bloody fact? Is
someone playing mind games? And is everyone in the house fair game? Murder will out, as they say. But can even the masterful Mallory
outwit a roguish gallery of the finest plotters in print?
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A mountaintop mansion. A motley collection of guests. A murder. This
weekend has all the makings of a classic, cozy mystery story. And a
story is all it’s supposed to be-acted out by noted authors and eager
fans at the atmospheric Mohonk Mountain House resort in upstate New York. Along with a gaggle of his peers, Mallory’s been invited to join the fun
by donning a costume and an alter-ego to pose as a suspect. But before you
can say nobody leaves this room! , Mallory is once again thrust into the
role of driven detective when the game’s designated corpse turns up
decidedly dead. There’s no doubt that the victim, notorious mystery-novel critic Kirk
Rath, incited the murderous wrath of nearly every writer he reviewed. But
even the most scathing critical barbs never drove a writer to put down the
pen in favor of the sword. And even Mallory is baffled by the curious
circumstances surrounding the mystery within a mystery. Did he actually
witness Rath being run through by a masked figure in the snowy darkness? Was
Rath really spotted alive and sneering after the bloody fact? Is
someone playing mind games? And is everyone in the house fair game? Murder will out, as they say. But can even the masterful Mallory
outwit a roguish gallery of the finest plotters in print?