Dead in D Minor - the second Albert mystery

“The novel is an exercise in the comic style, defying disbelief. To his credit, Crossman brings it off nicely. Albert is clearly a survivor, likely to be heard from again.”
Los Angeles Times Book Review

“Bravo. Encore!"
Publishers Weekly

“Albert is one of my all-time favorite sleuths.”
New York Times bestselling author Tess Gerritsen More

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About David Crossman

David A. Crossman is a modern-day polymath who – in common with polymaths throughout time – has yet to be sufficiently beguiled by any one sphere of endeavor to apply himself to it exclusively. As a result, he’s a best-selling novelist, an award-winning lyricist and composer, a writer of short stories, screenplays, teleplays, poems, and children’s books, a television producer/director (also award-winning), a video producer, radio/television talent, award-winning graphic, computer graphic artist, advertising copywriter, videographer, publisher, music producer, musician, singer, performer and … well, you get the picture. He’s shiftless – in all things but his devotion to Barbara his wife of…well, let’s say over 35 years and leave it at that.

About the Series: The Albert Mysteries
“…an exercise in the comic style, defying disbelief. To his credit, Crossman brings it off nicely. Albert is clearly a survivor, likely to be heard from again.”

Los Angeles Times Book Review

“Crossman…creates an offbeat, sympathetic sleuth who meanders innocently through this tale like a lamb through a pack of wolves. Bravo. Encore!

Publishers Weekly

The orbit of Albert’s tiny, coffee-stained universe was elliptical and only rarely intersected that of the conventional world, generally in the vicinity of a Dunkin’ Donuts. Some people called him a genius; some called him an idiot. He was inclined toward the latter. He didn’t think like most people. He didn’t understand how they could spout their age, weight, or Social Security Number without looking it up somewhere.

Music was all Albert knew, until murder came along and tore his cocoon to shreds; but it wasn’t light that flooded in through the cracks; it was darkness.

Still, everything might work out all right – if only someone would explain . . . everything.

Also in Series: The Albert Mysteries

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