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Gaylord Dold, Kansas Author

Gaylord Dold

Bay of Sorrows, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

Schedule Two, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

The Devil To Pay, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

Six White Horses, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

The Last Man in Berlin, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

Dominican Republic, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

The Rough Guide to The Bahamas, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

The World Beat, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

Samedi's Knapsack, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

Biography  
          

Gaylord Dold was born in Kansas and raised in southern California. He graduated from the University of Kansas, the University of California, and the London School of Economics.

Dold is the co-founder and managing editor of Watermark Press, which published regional authors like Thomas Fox Averill's Seeing Mona Naked, as well as writers from all over the world. Watermark book Leaving Las Vegas, by John O'Brien later became a film directed by Mike Leigh, starring Nicolas Cage and Elizabeth Schue.

Dold has taken time off to travel and write books in the Caribbean, the South Pacific and the Western Rockies.

He currently lives in Wichita, Kansas.


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Published Work  
 

Crime Novels:

Bay of Sorrows (1995)
Schedule Two (1996)
The Devil To Pay (1999)
Six White Horses (2002)
The Last Man in Berlin (2003)

Travel Guides:

Dominican Republic (2001)
The Rough Guide to The Bahamas (2007)

Science Fiction:

The Swarming Stage (Coming Soon)

The Mitch Roberts Series:

The World Beat (1993)
Samedi's Knapsack (2001)
Rude Boys (2013)
A Penny for the Old Guy (2013)
Dishelved City (2013)
Muscle and Blood (2013)
Bonepile (2013)
Cold Cash (2013)
Snake eyes (2013)
Hot Summer, Cold Murder (2013)

The Jack Kilgore Series
Available through Premier Digital Publishing)

Same Old Sun, Same Old Moon
The Nickel Jolt
The Swarming Stage


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Writing Samples  
 

The Last Man in Berlin

The body lay face up in a dark cul-de-sac, eight meters off the Hirrenstrasse. The area--near Alexanderplatz police headquarters--was a communist neightborhood of brick tenements and wooden slums. Barlach would never have noticed the corpse had he not stepped away from the street to piss.

It had been a blustery fall day, followed by an unseasonably cold night. A Baltic front had crossed Berlin, and the first star-shaped chesnut leaves began to scissor down from the trees along Prenzlauerstrasse where Oberwachtmeister Fritz Barlach was on patrol. Barlach had been a beat-cop for six years, most of them on the streets of Scheunenviertel, a tough working-class precinct dominated by Marxists and unemployed thugs.

He had waited out the rain under a tobacconist's awning on Prenzlauer. Wearing the blue woolen uniform of a Schupo, a faded blue lightweight raincoat, and black boots with heavy gum soles, he lit a cigarette and cursed himself for running low on tobacco. For the thousandth time in six years, he surveyed the grim street.

 

Six White Horses

Palmer surfed for a year, then joined the Marines. After basic he was lucky enough to be stationed at Pendelton, not far from home. He did duty as a shavetail rifleman, then got bumped to Shore Patrol, walking duty around ordnance and supply depots. Palmer marched his beat carrying a loaded weapon, spent weeknights watching TV with the guys, weekends wandering around Oceanside, surging when he could, hitting the bars but not drinking much. Palmer heard about the Gulf War at the same time he met Suzanne near Oceanside pier, at a place called, of all things, The Sugar Shack.

When it happened, Palmer was halfway out on the pier. It was a cool summer night, the kind of foggy damp weather Palmer loved. He was watching fishermen cast for bass and bonito, enjoying the play of colored light against a backdrop of town, his senses alive with the thought of Suzanne, even though she was at work. He had been on the pier about twenty minutes when he saw a Shore Patrol detail working its way up-pier: two men in blue uniforms, a staff sergeant named Wilde, another Palmer didn't know. When they got to Palmer, he nodded, but Harry Wilde said, "Turn around, Marine, that's an order."

Palmer had a moment of foreboding, then let it drop. He knew Harry Wilde. He turned and put his arms against the pier railing. A few breakers were crashing a jetty two hundred yards south, perhaps the makings of a Pacific storm, surfing material deluxe. Palmer felt his mouth go as dry as cotton.

"It's Corporal Palmer," he said.

"Just Relax, Palmer" Wilde told him. "Put your arms out wide, Corporal."


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Links  
 
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Rude Boys, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

A Penny For The Old Guy, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

Bone Pile, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

Cold Cash, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

Snake Eyes, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

Hot Summer Cold Murder, Book Cover, Gaylord Dold

 


 

 


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