Frank Tuttle lives and writes in the perpetually humid wilderness of North Mississippi. Frank tried to be a proper Southern author and write about pickups and hound dogs, but trolls and magic kept creeping into his stories, so Frank is a fantasy author. Although hounds do make occasional appearances in his fiction.
Most of the books you'll see here are part of the Markhat series, which features a hard-boiled, wise-cracking detective in a world where magic works.
Come one, come all! Step right up to the terrors that stalk the midway.
The Markhat Files, Book 9
When Dark’s Diverse Delights arrives by night to set up shows and rides that promise fun and excitement for one and all, the outskirts of Rannit begin to look disturbingly like the nightmares that plague Markhat’s sleep.
Mama Hog has sent him a new client, a cattle rancher with a missing daughter. Markhat’s search reveals genuine terrors lurking amidst the carnival’s tawdry sideshows, where Death itself takes the main stage every evening, just past midnight.
The orchestrator of the murderous, monstrous mayhem is the mysterious carnival master, Ubel Thorkel. And after Buttercup the Banshee is threatened, Markhat is in a race against time to find the carnival’s dark heart and strike it down once and for all—or die trying.
Warning: Left unattended, this book is prone to rotate corn crops, eschew oral hygiene, engage in long-distance artillery exchanges with remaindered copies of C.S Lewis’s “The Chronicles of Narnia”, and provide unwelcome commentary during rush-hour traffic. Readers are advised to exercise extreme caution during vertical take-off and landing of Harrier fighter jets, because that’s just basic common sense. At no point should this book be considered a substitute for professional medical advice or paprika. Especially paprika.
When Death writes your name, there is no erasing it.
The Markhat Files, Book 8
It starts as a typical day in the park, with Markhat tracking a bully the law won’t touch, and promising a little girl he’ll find her missing dog, name of Cornbread.
But as the sun sets over Rannit, a new menace creeps out with the dark. There’s a killer on the loose, and Markhat the finder suspects magic behind the murders. Each victim receives a grisly drawing depicting the place, time, and manner of death. Not a single victim has escaped the brutal fate drawn for them—and now Markhat’s own death-drawing has arrived.
The mighty Dark Houses are also falling, one by one, as terror grips Rannit’s streets. Even sorcerers are dying, their magic failing, their blood spilled as easily as that of any other.
With time and hope running out, Markhat races to outwit a creature that can see outside Time itself. Before the picture of his own death becomes stained with real blood.
Warning: The dance moves described herein are not intended for novice trolley operators, and the Publisher assumes no responsibility for any loss of ornamental waterfowl, carrot-enhanced undergarments, or wheeled bathing contrivances. The preceding sentence should be read in the voice of Morgan Freeman and to the accompaniment of a competent string ensemble.
When the banshee howls, start looking for the lifeboats.
Take a simple, three-day cruise on a lavish steamboat casino, they said. Just keep an eye out for trouble while the Regent rolls the dice, they said.
Markhat should have known the maiden voyage of Avalante’s vampire-crewed Brown River Queen would be anything but a finder’s dream job. Especially when he charges a ridiculous fee—and gets it without a peep of protest.
Then a pair of identical murderous maidens attack him and his lady love, and it doesn’t take a banshee’s howl to confirm his sinking suspicion he’s about to earn his fee the hard way.
As the heavily guarded steamboat casts off, Markhat is forced to navigate shoals of old enemies, treacherous political undercurrents, and rogue waves of assassins. All to keep the walking dead from turning the Brown River Queen’s decks red with blood.
Warning: This is a work of fiction. Please stop trying to apply it as a cream directly to your forehead. The characters depicted herein are quite real despite this disclaimer and will be deeply hurt if you peek ahead to the ending. This prose is certified gluten-free. Not intended as an emergency substitute Flight Manual, no matter what the nerds at Popular Mechanics claim.
Ask not for whom the wedding bells toll.
There's no way Markhat can turn away his newest client. Who is he to refuse the woman he loves-especially when she bribes him with breakfast?
This time it's Darla's friend Tamar Fields, whose fianc‚ vanished days before the wedding. His wealthy family insists Carris Lethway is simply away on urgent business. Tamar smells a lie, and she needs Rannit's most famous finder to figure out if the source of the suspicious aroma is a conspiracy, or the groom's cold, sweaty feet.
As if his plate isn't piled high enough, Mama Hog's slip of the tongue has landed him in the middle of a good old-fashioned Pot Lockery clan feud. Plus, Rannit's streets are abuzz with rumors of war-and Tamar's case has his own lady love hearing wedding bells of her own.
As Rannit arms for battle, Markhat finds himself torn between old alliances and new commitments, and a growing, awful fear that no matter which way he turns, all he loves is about to go up in flames.
Warning: This work of fiction is known to contain dangerous vowels and at least two instances of provocative folk dancing. Readers should be prepared to produce fresh emus for inspection at any time while reading pages 78 or 134. Neither the Publisher nor the Author condones the formation of covalent hydrogen bonds, although the Author does wink at them when his attorney isn't looking.
No secret stays buried forever.
When patron of the arts Lady Erlorne Werewilk hires Markhat to identify the parties who are stealthily mapping out the Lady's estate by moonlight, Markhat anticipates the usual-greedy relatives or rapacious neighbors plotting a land grab. After all, muses Rannit's most feckless Finder, the Lady runs a colony filled with young artists. Aside from snits over color and perspective, how dangerous could a squabble over a backwoods house possibly be?
With new partner Gertriss in tow, Markhat takes the Lady's case. Before the first night is done, the house is visited by murder, mayhem, and the haunting wail of what may be a genuine banshee, come to herald not just one death, but the deaths of all within. Trapped in a house under siege, Markhat must make a desperate gamble with an old enemy to win the race to unlock the secret that lies beneath the Lady's lands. And find a way to turn that secret against the powerful forces converging on House Werewilk.
Warning: This Markhat adventure involves suggestions of impending matrimony, full-scale gluttony, and misuse of fermented beverages. Persons with weak constitutions or persons currently at the halfway mark of a thousand-meter tightrope walk above a crocodile-infested river should refrain from reading this work of fiction in dimly-lit drawing rooms, which should never be constructed above crocodile-infested rivers in the first place.
Markhat's new client is already dead and buried-or is he?
Humans, Trolls and even the halfdead have all passed through Markhat's door-more than once-seeking his services as a finder of missing persons and lost loves. This is a first, though. This time, his client is a dead man. At least that's what Granny Knot claims. But as long as the coin is real, Markhat has no trouble working for a guilt-ridden ghost.
Trouble is exactly what he finds, and soon he suspects his client, ghost or not, has darker motives for finding his estranged wife than the reconciliation he claims. Left with a cadaver for a client, a spook doctor for a partner, and Mama Hog as advisor on all things spiritual, Markhat must unravel a dark mystery ten years old, and do it before another grave is filled. Maybe his own.
Warning: This work of fiction involves the occult, several rather questionable uses of stuffed birds, the release of sarcasm inside a cemetery and numerous disparaging portrayals of wood elves.
Demons in a feeding frenzy drive the world-weary Markhat to the brink…
A Markhat story.
Quiet, hard-working seamstresses aren’t the kind that normally go missing, even in a tough town like Rannit. Martha Hoobin’s disappearance, though, quickly draws Markhat into a deadly struggle between a halfdead blood cult and the infamous sorcerer known only as the Corpsemaster.
A powerful magical artifact may be both his only hope of survival—and the source of his own inescapable damnation.
Markat’s search leads him to the one thing that’s been missing in his life. But even love’s awesome power may not save him from the darkness that’s been unleashed inside his own soul.
A troll’s missing head could cause Markhat to lose his own.
A Markhat story.
All the finder Markhat wanted was a beer at Eddie’s. Instead he gets a case that will bring him face to fang with crazed, blood-craving halfdead, a trio of vengeful Troll warriors, and Mama Hog’s backstreet magic. Plus, the possible resurgence of the Troll War.
All right in his own none-too-quiet neighborhood.
Through the town of Rannit’s narrow alleys and mean streets, Markhat tries to stay one step ahead of disaster. And ignore Mama Hog’s dire warnings that this time, the head that rolls could be his own.
This book has been previously published and has been revised and expanded from its original release.
Can a haunted man help the dead find peace?
Markhat is a Finder, charged with the post-war task of tracking down sons and fathers gone suddenly missing when an outbreak of peace left the army abandoned where they stood. But now it’s ten years on after the war, and about all he’s finding is trouble.
This time, trouble comes in the form of a rich widow with a problem. Her dearly departed husband, Ebed Merlat, keeps ambling back from the grave for nocturnal visits. Markhat saw a lot during the war, but he’s never seen anyone, rich or poor, rise from the grave and go tromping around the landscape. But for the right price, he’s willing to look into it.
As a storm gathers and night falls, Markhat finds darker things than even murder lurk amid the shadows of House Merlat.
This book has been previously published.
This title is rife with the walking dead, sarcastic butlers, barking dogs and ghostly dances.