Guest Post and Book Giveaway from Tom Fowler
Our next guest on the Crime Cafe will be Tom Fowler.
As part of his giveaway, he’s offering the John Tyler series prequel novella, Midnight Drive for free at the following link: https://offers.tomfowlerwrites.com/d5xzgqaob8
If you grab a copy of the novella through that link, you’ll be entered into his giveaway of Redline, in the winner’s choice of electronic format (ebook or audiobook). If they already have Redline, he’s happy to arrange for the winner to get a different book.
Winner will be chosen on Oct. 15, 2024.
Check out a sample of the goods below!
*****
This is from chapter 1 of my upcoming novel Redline, the 8th in the John Tyler series. It releases on September 24th. The series follows the adventures of retired Green Beret John Tyler, who lives with PTSD, his teenaged daughter, and an inability to walk away from trouble.
*****
When he saw the same car pass in front of the jewelry shop a third time, John Tyler knew the place was about to get robbed.
It was a black GM sedan—maybe a Chevy SS or a Pontiac G8. Something with a V8 under the hood to enable a fast getaway. The car stopped at the curb just past the main door. Tyler spotted two men inside. From what he could tell, the driver looked shorter and slighter than the two passengers. Could it be a woman?
All this because he wanted to buy his daughter Lexi a nice pair of earrings for her upcoming twentieth birthday.
He thought about leaving but felt he should at least warn someone first. Tyler came to Stanley’s Jewels in Baltimore County because he remembered his late mother mentioning the place twenty-odd years ago. Two other customers browsed from among the various displays and locked cases, and a pair of employees walked the floor. A thick metal door led to the back area of the store. Tyler imagined they kept the real valuables there—most likely in a safe—and not where the public could see them. The store didn’t employ a security guard, but obvious cameras popped out of the walls and ceiling at many points. Tyler figured some less visible lenses also provided surveillance.
He made his way to the nearest worker, a thin man way too young to be the proprietor. “I hate to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure you’re about to get robbed.”
“What?”
“I’ve seen the same car three times now,” Tyler said. Once could simply be someone driving by. Twice could be an accident. Someone drove past where they wanted to go. A closer parking spot opened. A third pass made a pattern not boding well for a store whose inventory stretched into the hundreds of thousands of dollars and probably beyond. “It can’t be good.”
As if on cue, one man burst through the door. He stood a shade over six feet—the measurement lines on the frame helped—and carried an average amount of weight. He also carried a Remington twelve-gauge shotgun. A dark ski mask covered his face except for the eyes, almost making a uniform when combined with blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and black leather jacket. Two more men, both carrying pistols, filed in a few seconds later. They were dressed similarly, and their masks were the identical shade. “This is a robbery,” the first one said, making the events obvious. “Hands up. If you cooperate and stay quiet, no one has to get hurt.”
Tyler often carried a pistol. A sign on the door of Stanley’s Jewels proclaimed no firearms other than by law enforcement, which aligned with a recent and restrictive Maryland law. In cases like these, he left the 9MM in the car. At the moment, he wished he abided the law a little more loosely. Unarmed, Tyler wasn’t going to try and play hero, so he put his hands up like everyone else. One of the gunmen stood nearby, his gaze alternating between Tyler and the employee. The one with the shotgun walked to them and pointed the Remington at the worker. “Open the cases.”
The third man tossed a couple cloth bags onto one of the glass surfaces. “Don’t skimp on the good stuff. We want diamonds.”
The other employee, a middle-aged woman with her graying hair in a bun, cried. “Shut up,” the bag man barked at her. She managed to turn the volume down a little but continued her sobbing.
“Everyone stay calm,” the Remington wielder said, making sure to look at the customers and workers. “Keep your hands up. We don’t even want your wallets. What’s in these cases is worth a lot more.”
The two other customers were a young black woman and an older white man with thinning hair. Both held their hands aloft, though the man grimaced a few times. Sweat appeared on his face, and his breathing quickened. When the guy wobbled on his feet, Tyler stepped close and grabbed him around the torso.
“I said keep your hands up!” one of the robbers barked, waving a pistol.
“You want to steal jewelry, go ahead,” Tyler said. “If this guy dies . . . even from something like a heart attack . . . it’s going to go down like you murdered him.”
“You a doctor?”
“No. Just someone who’s seen a truckload of people react to stress over the years.” The older man continued taking shallow breaths, and his face looked ashen. Tyler felt on the guy’s neck for a pulse. Rapid but weak. “We need to get him on the floor.”
“Stay there,” the masked man ordered.
*****
Tom Fowler is a USA Today bestselling indie author of mysteries and thrillers. He was born and raised in Baltimore and now lives in the DC suburbs of Maryland with his family. He writes the C.T. Ferguson crime fiction series and the John Tyler thrillers, both set in his home city. Tom’s stories feature flawed heroes, action, and plenty of snark.