Link to an author interview in the online edition of St. Louis Magazine:
https://www.stlmag.com/arts/literary/david-linzee-on-his-latest-mystery-one-fell-swoop/

.


Praise for One Fell Swoop 


"Renata Radleigh, a professional opera singer, suspects that her naive younger brother, Don, has become entangled with a gang of dangerous international criminals. With people turning up dead and Don largely oblivious to the danger he is in, Renata has her hands full keeping him safe while rehearsing for her role in Humperdinck’s Hansel und Gretel. Fortunately, she gets help from her boyfriend, a former newspaper reporter, who knows how to ask the right questions and is good at following the money. The second entry in a delightful series that moves effortlessly back and forth between the UK and the US."

-Albert Ashforth,

author of On Edge

"Linzee is a dedicated craftsman who uses his tools with special rare talent and truth.

ONE FELL SWOOP is one you don't want to miss. The word "superb" comes to mind.

-John Lutz,

author of Slaughter



The first page of 

One Fell Swoop:

Renata Radleigh was panting when

she reached the top of the hill. This was the highest point in London, and a strong wind had been blowing every time she’d been here. Tonight it was bitter cold. Her eyes were tearing up and her nose starting to run as she turned in a circle, looking for Neal. The lights of the city glittered to the south, but on Hampstead Heath there was only a faint glow reflected from the overcast sky.

It was a stupid choice for a rendezvous. She would have argued with Neal the dog walker if he’d given her a chance. The hill was a wide expanse and she couldn’t see very far into the darkness. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and took out her phone. Since Neal had called her, it had his number. She tried it but there was no answer. She kept the phone in hand, hoping he’d ring her.

She wandered on, turning in a circle, seeing only darkness. It was all very well for Neal; he had a borzoi to protect him. But this was no place for a lone woman, especially one who had two hundred pounds in her pocket. She was thinking of trying Neal again when her foot was yanked out from under her and she fell on her face.

Heart pounding, she twisted round to see who had tripped her. But there was no one. She got to her feet. She had fallen over a body. She bent over it, putting a hand down to brace herself. The face was turned to the side. It was Neal. A trail of blood crossed his cheek from his ear. His cap was gone and there was something pallid showing through his dark hair. She bent close, then recoiled as she realized it was the broken edge of his skull. The palm of the hand she had put to the ground felt warm. She turned it over to see that it was covered in blood. The grass all around his head was bloody. He was dead.

Renata cried out feebly against the wind and staggered away. She must call the police immediately. But she’d dropped her phone. She had to return to the body and bend over it to pick up the phone. It was slick with blood and she had to fight not to be sick.