The curse of the Whimsy is based on an original idea by RD. Larson. She is a twice EPPE winner and I've co-written the story with her. 

From Chapter 3 below is a short excerpt from the work in progress file. It is looking good so far and all readers are given a warning to be aware of the surreal and not to pick wild flowers...

The Curse of The Whimsy

The American couple looked stunned when I said: gypsy curse. Clearly they knew the implication. I gave each a glass of Bell’s Whisky. They wriggled uncomfortably on their seats, aware of my strange behaviour, and of my trembling hands. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead.

“OK, so I was a bit upset. Scared stiff even. I’m sweating. Sure, the ‘Whimsy’ curse is over... but not the nightmares.

“I still remember the events all those years ago. Like they are happening again for the first time. I see them in my mind’s eye. I can’t forget cradling my dying wife Siobhan, offering her my life blood if it saved her from death. It was my biggest mistake...

“That was the day I thanked Bethany. I said many prayers. Then for once I was free from the accursed ‘Whimsy.’ But you both know the story, know it must never return to haunt or happen again.

“Now, Larry I found you talking to a reporter fellah from La Folly Revue who said he thought you were a film director, maybe making a film of the ‘Whimsy’ curse. Don’t you know I detest directors. They are always hunting down a story.

“I guess it’s all because of that darn impression you give strutting about with your dark glasses and brown leather jacket. Not forgetting the Parker pen and clipboard. Wish you never did that. This is New Duryea Bay in Scotland, not Hollywood. Surely the weather gives you the biggest clue to where you are. Or taste the malt stuff.”

Larry laughed, he was my friend but there still remained plenty of tension in the air. The mention of my family curse, the ‘Whimsy,’ was electrifying.

I gulped my drink; looked angrily across at RD Larson, distinguished author of ‘Evil Angel’ and a host of other credits. She sat in the chair by Larry, in my office listening to what we’d said. I smiled to myself. By the time I finished talking to them I knew they’d be perched on the edge of their seats with fright. The ‘Whimsy’ always had that kind of power.

“But I didn’t mean anything,” she said, joining in, “didn’t mean the police to get involved in... murder... like this.” She shivered then gripped Larry’s hand for comfort. She said in a loud whisper: “Has the curse started again? Has it?”

I pushed hair off my forehead and looked at the ceiling, then at my Rolex watch. Again I tried to keep a check on my quick temper.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. My tone had changed. “Maybe I overreacted but Inspector MacDonald said the man was dead... in an empty house too.

"The doors were locked from the inside with a key. No sign of a forced entry. Forensics couldn’t place the nature of how he died or the look on his face. The man saw something from Hell or the like.

"The Inspector said he had to treat the death as another investigation... with always the possibility that it might have been murder. He said his need to see me was urgent.”

Chapters 1 and 2 can be found on Amazon.com