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The Pessimal Caper

2018 was one of those years where I went into NaNoWriMo with the best of intentions, I just sorta forgot about those intentions until it was halfway over in the middle of November. Sadly, despite a good run, I was trying to "pantster it," and I'm no "pantster." I had a strong Act 1, and a worthwhile middle with a continual series of ludicrous twists, but just never found the right ending, and the damned characters wouldn't write it for me.

In my mind, it's a tribute to old time radio, film noir, and 50's horror cliches, as interpreted by the Marx Brothers, and directed by George A. Romero.

Los Angeles, 1937. The nights are long, the dames are deadly, and the only thing more dangerous than the undead is a woman with a favor to ask.

Jack Chase is a gumshoe with a stiff drink in one hand and bad timing in the other. When a sultry socialite with secrets walks into his office, Jack finds himself tangled in a case that smells like perfume, blood, and bad sushi. What starts as a simple missing-person job turns into a hell-ride through cursed artifacts, bad vaudeville performers, and a Yakuza turf war unraveling inside the crumbling halls of the Hotel Beauchamp.

Now Jack’s neck-deep in undead bellboys, hitmen, cursed elevators, and one very angry lounge singer who may or may not be possessed. Worse, the basement is a powder keg of secrets, and someone lit the fuse. All Jack wants is a quiet exit and a shot of something strong—but the only way out is through a ballroom brawl between the living, the dead, and room full of spoiled brat debutates that could honestly go either way.

As an added bonus, I invite you to enjoy the playlist that set the mood, helped me keep focus, and constantly ran in the background during the course of writing this novel.