David (D.A.) Crossman is a novelist and short story writer with a passion for flawed detectives, sinister spies, and femme fatales. English on his father’s side and Norwegian on his mother’s, David was born in South Africa and raised in South East London. David spent a number of years as an itinerant worker and he has resided in France, Israel, India, and Australia before settling down in rural New Zealand where he now lives with his family and their clowder of cats. He is currently employed (without remuneration) by his children as a cook, chauffeur, cleaner, gardener, and general dogsbody. When he isn’t ‘singing’ disharmoniously to the soundtrack of loud progressive rock music or shouting intemperately at the football on the TV, David can be found staring absently at the blank computer screen in the study.
Diving into my New Zealand piles at the moment, this one became this weekend's reading for no particular reason.
From the Blurb:
He’s lost his wife, his job, and his mana. So what now? A PI? He really couldn’t get used to it. Traipsing around after unfaithful wives and little old ladies’ lost dogs? Was this the future for Carlos Wallace? And what of the beautiful matakite? Wasn’t it a sin to fall in love with your cousin?