I have come to think of violence as a self-perpetuating mania of the power of the aggressive over those less strong.

Violence wounds the body and it wounds the soul. Of the predator. Of the prey. Of the mourners. Of collective humanity. It diminishes us all.

I can't believe you jokers fixed it." Hi was picking his way down to the beach. "Believe it, clown. Too much brain power here to fail." Still pumped, Shelton threw another palm Ben's way. "Oh, I'm sure." Hi streched, yawned. "It was something highly technical, I suppose? Something requiring mechanical ability? Nothing as simple as tightening a wire or flippin a switch, right?" Ben reddened. Shelton developed an intrest in his sneakers. Score one for Hi.

Murder mysteries are puzzles that are fun to resolve.

Today he wore a burnt-orange shirt, black pants, and a tie that looked like a street fight at the south end of the color wheel.

Ben yanked Hi sideways as spikes snapped from the wall…Once again, only Ben’s reflexes had saved him. “Please stop doing that!” Ben barked. “Please keep doing that!” Hi warbled.

What gives my books authenticity is that I actually do what it is I'm writing about. I think the fact that I am in the autopsy room, I go to the crime scene and I do work in the lab gives my books this flavor that otherwise they wouldn't have.