Crag Banyon Mysteries Series

"Hello, you've reached Banyon Investigations...." Crag Banyon is just your run-of-the-mill P.I. He's got a secretary who loves to hate and hates to love him. His worst enemy in the world is on the local force and relishes the thought of seeing Banyon behind bars. And he's got a knack for attracting all the crazies to his small downtown office above the fish market. So when an elf shows up on a stolen reindeer and hints of foul play at the North Pole, Banyon takes the whole thing in stride, refuses to take the case, and heads off to his favorite saloon. But when the elf turns up dead the next morning, the cops make their least favorite private eye the fall guy. A hunted man, Banyon lams it to the Arctic Circle to clear his name. He quickly finds that Santa's workshop is a lot more dangerous than even a plucky P.I. with a ready quip and a five-alarm hangover can handle. Between fighting for his life and fending off the advances of a hot-to-trot Mrs. Claus, Banyon uncovers a conspiracy that goes far past December 25. If he can just ring in the New Year without a bullet in his brain, it'll all be just another day's work for Crag Banyon, P.I. "....he's an SOB, but he's cheap. How may I direct your call?"

TURN THAT CROWN UPSIDE-DOWN... When Banyon takes an easy gig bodyguarding the visiting Queen of Albion, he figures for the first time in his career he's finally got it made. A little quick cash for an afternoon's work. What can go wrong? When you're Crag Banyon, don't ask. No sooner does he take the job than someone tries to kill Her Royal Handbag. No sooner does he save her than someone tries to kill him. No sooner does he say to hell with it and escapes to his favorite bar than the local temperance league shuts it down. Banyon's having the worst day of his life, and that's before a rival P.I. commits a very public suicide that somehow links back to Banyon Investigations, Inc. Banyon would rather be warming his favorite barstool than figuring out what it all has to do with an ancient wizard, a nasty curse, a sleazy pawn shop, and a very large tree, but unfortunately someone's finally figured out a motivation that has him stumbling out the nearest exit. This time if Banyon doesn't show up for work, he'll be visiting his legs in a different zip code. ...CRAG BANYON'S ON THE CASE!

NEW CASE. NEW CLIENT. SAME HANGOVER. It starts out as a simple maritime stalking case, which Banyon flat-out refuses. The would-be client is the god of the sea, see, and Crag Banyon is a strict reformed agnostic: while he believes in the existence of gods, he prefers it if they don't pester him during happy hour. Unfortunately, something big is stirring offshore, the coast is being flooded, and despite his best efforts to stay planted on his favorite barstool, Banyon finds himself swept up in a case of Olympian intrigue, dirty deals and fresh fish. Soon he's up to his pretty little neck in trouble, paddling for his life, taking on water, and in the end it's either sink or swim. Does it all come out in the wash? Just ask his secretary: "CRAG BANYON? THAT JERK'S A BUM, AND THAT'S THE GODS' HONEST TRUTH."!

BANYON INVESTIGATIONS, INC. CASES CRACKED. REASONABLE RATES. When a desperate leprechaun needs to locate his lost pot of gold, there's only one P.I. in town dogged and sober enough to take the case. Unfortunately, his first choice is in Bimini dodging an IRS audit, so he calls on Crag Banyon instead. That's just the start of a string of increasingly lousy luck that hounds Banyon from one emerald end of his latest crummy job to the other, where it turns out that a trip over the rainbow isn't the fun-and-booze-filled romp that all the brochures claim. Banyon finds that the whole leprechaun world is upside-down, while at the same time our own world is suffering through a mealtime catastrophe that's threatening side dishes from here to Thanksgiving and beyond. Toss in a femme fatale more fatale than usual, along with a sexy dame reporter who's so untrustworthy even her curves are crooked, and Banyon finds that he's up to his pretty little eyeballs in more trouble than one plucky, partially plastered P.I can handle. Not without doubling his rates and/or tripling his booze consumption. UNLUCKIEST P.I. IN THE GREATER METROPOLITAN YELLOW PAGES.

BANYON'S BACK WITH ONE HECK OF A CASE! For a savvy private investigator like Crag Banyon, tackling cases that are too hot to handle comes with the territory. But even a plucky P.I. with an occasionally unsavory client roster has his limits. So when a demon shows up at the front door of Banyon Investigations with a pile of cash and a plea for help, Banyon thinks it could be time to cool things down. Unfortunately, temptation strikes at the precise moment the rent is overdue, and the landlord -- not to mention the power and phone companies and Banyon's top fifty favorite liquor stores -- don't take IOUs. Short on cash, he makes a deal with the devil. Someone's gone over the wall and escaped from Hell, and the demon prison guards need somebody on the outside to track down their misplaced soul. Simple missing persons case, right? Except nothing's ever simple for Crag Banyon, P.I. When he's not being assaulted, mauled, arrested, framed, betrayed, chased and nearly killed, he's uncovering a conspiracy that extends from this life to the afterlife and all points in between. When all Hell breaks loose, what's Banyon's solution? Shove a flask in his pocket and go to a matinee at the Bijou until it all blows over or blows up...whichever comes first.

CRAG BANYON. HE'S JUST SUPER. When Minus, the city's newly minted superhero, shows up at Banyon Investigations looking for help tracking down his archenemy, Banyon's first instinct is to tell his prospective client to take a flying leap. Supervillains are notoriously unforgiving types, and so when it comes to dealing with them Banyon has a firm business policy that consists of three pillars: truth, justice and running away. Not necessarily in that order. But the hero is a sad sack, and the office elf wants Banyon to take the case, and none of the really good bars in town are open, and so, caught in a weak moment, Banyon relents. Big mistake. Soon our plucky P.I. is caught up in the crazy chaos that comes hand-in-glove with the larger than life superhero biz. If he's lucky enough to survive the thrilling flights, dizzying heights, Spandex tights, bare-knuckled fights, and a doozy of a demented ex-girlfriend, Crag Banyon might live just long enough to make it to his own funeral. BANYON INVESTIGATIONS. WHERE A HERO IS A SANDWICH.

CRAG BANYON: WHEN THE MOON IS HIGH, SO IS HE Find a missing book. What could be easier? Not so easy when the book is the sacred Gypsy bible and the P.I. hired to track it down is Crag Banyon, for whom "luck" is a four-letter word spelled B-A-D. The case turns out to be a real page turner, with more thrills, chills and spills than a midnight trip to the men's room of Banyon's favorite watering hole. And closing time has never been so deadly, now that a mysterious four-legged figure has set its sights on one particular hapless investigator whose knack for figuring out plot twists and polishing off cocktails has gotten him banned from every church book club in the tri-city area. Why are the latest murderous rampages to terrorize the town exquisitely timed to fall between the rising and setting of the moon, and what does it all have to do with a leggy Gypsy dame, a gaggle of Gypsy hags, their AWOL Gypsy king, and the musty misplaced manuscript that holds all their tribe's deepest, darkest secrets? That's for Crag Banyon to find out, assuming he doesn't lose interest or get slaughtered before either the last page or the check clears. RATES COMMENSURATE

"HELLO. YOU HAVE REACHED BANYON INVESTIGATIONS. MAYBE." Amnesia is to private investigators what chicken pox is to kids: sooner or later they all come down with it. Crag Banyon's bout of pesky P.I. amnesia comes during what may or may not be his biggest case ever. Unfortunately, he can't remember the case, he can't remember his client, he can't remember where he parked his car, and most of all he can't remember why he joined a profession that gets you shot at, run over, and repeatedly whacked on the head and left for dead. Banyon is in the fight of his life and not even his trusty office elf knows with whom or why. As the plucky P.I. begins to blindly unravel knots, he busts open a scheme bigger than he could have possibly imagined, and it all ties in with a sexy lady doctor, a nasty news vendor, a passel of time-traveling cowboys and an exceedingly polite cast of thousands. If Banyon remembers enough to survive to the end, he's going to need a few dozen good, stiff drinks to forget. "IF WE OWE YOU MONEY, FORGET IT."