Lie of the Tiger

Is that dog doing what you think it is on the cover … secret doggy business?

 If so, how could this possibly prove the Tasmanian Tiger exists? You’ll find the answer in this poignant, funny mystery novel. With a quirky character lurking around every corner, everyone has something to hide — including the two old men who come up with the dog solution, the new Irish manager of the Tasmanian Tiger museum who has something to hide about his past, the owners of the museum who have an even bigger secret, and Moose Routley who returns to town as a villain. 

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Also available for sale as a print book from Amazon US, UK, Germany, France, Italy and Japan, and now in Australia.


The mystery man arrives

THE huge Irishman rolled down his window and squinted. All he could hear was the click-click-clicking of the taxi’s cooling engine.

A row of yellow lights illuminated the long street but the building in front of him looked dark and deserted.

‘Are you sure dis is it?’ he said.

The elderly driver in the coke-bottle glasses reached up and turned on the internal light, and examined a slip of paper. ‘Yep. This is where I was told to drop you, Moose.’ 

Paddy sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt. ‘Just pop the boot, pops.’ 

The old man raised his fists. ‘I’ve told you before, don’t call me pops!’ 

‘Don’t call me Moose then. I’ve never even met you.’ 

‘Don’t think you’re fooling anyone by stacking on that phoney accent? Have you forgotten I was the first trainer on the scene when you strained your hamstring twenty-odd years ago. I don’t care how big you are. You don’t frighten me, Moose.’

Paddy had spent the whole trip from the airport wondering how anyone could drive that fast when they couldn’t see over the steering wheel. Now he studied the scrawny ol’ fella, he guessed his checked shirt and brown braces were the only things holding his skin and bone together. The only thing big about him were those magnified eyes. And he was now shaping up like a boxer! Really?

Paddy started opening his door. ‘If you’ll open the boot, mister, I’ll get my cases.’ 

He had barely slammed the boot when the taxi screeched away, leaving behind a stink of exhaust fumes.

Paddy waved a fist as the car disappeared into the yellow murk. ‘Happy New Year to you, too, you old fart.’

His ponytail swished when he looked around.

Where was everyone? 

He heard footsteps. But when he turned all he saw were two large silhouettes that melted into the dappled shadows on the other side of the road and shuffled away. 

Jaysus! Two people out for a midnight stroll hardly counted as revellers!

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