"For fans who have come to enjoy the unorthodox, uniquely 'unmemorable' Hunter Knox, this novel picks up after his stint as an actor in Poe—The Musical. For readers unfamiliar with him, Hunter has a face that can't be remembered. When people stare at him, and then close their eyes, no one can recall what he looks like, making it very convenient for him to find the answers to murder. With the classically irreverent, slightly bumbling style that characterizes his Hunter Knox character, Terry Sheils once again creates an entertaining, if somewhat unorthodox first-class murder mystery. Fans of Sheils will certainly enjoy Par For The Corpse, and if you haven't read any Hunter Knox mysteries, then this is an excellent introduction to this unorthodox body of work."—Cindy Penn, Word Weaving

"Guaranteed to make you laugh, Par For The Corpse is a delightful mystery of hijinx on the fairway. A collection of strange characters assemble on and near the grounds of the Carleigh Falls Golf Club in time for the Regional Tournament, but the lead contender is murdered. Alias Hunter Knox, with his collection of aliases, tries to score both on the greens and in the bed of his friend Melonie. Up until now, every time he investigates a murder, his lover turns out to be the culprit. Is Melonie different? Can he make it beyond the ninth hole without being accosted, interrupted or found discovering yet one more body? Relatives of the victim appear, but are they really relatives? Doctors arrive, but are they really doctors? Winding his way through the maze of false identities and hidden secrets, Hunter Knox succeeds in finding more than the murderer he bargained for. If I could add a half star (or more) for the witty repartee between Hunter and Melonie, I would. Even if you know nothing about golf, this book will leave you laughing."—Ann M. Beardsley, Scribes World Reviews

"5 Cups!...a must read for all thespians and golfers alike. I loved the quips, quotes and lines from poems, plays and musicals."--Lainey, Coffee Time Romance

"5 Angels!...A terrific read. ...Smoothly flows with great characters. Melonie and Hunter make excellent partners in crime...They create enough delightful charm to make the read exciting with their wonderful camaraderie. T.K. Sheils’ work [is] so clever and well-written that [I am] eager to read the others. Even though he is no longer among us, his penned works continue to please readers with his pleasant magnetism and the way he blends his mysteries."--Linda L., Fallen Angel Reviews

...Hunter and Melonie had a brief argument as to where he would sleep. It was not what one might expect from his banter with her earlier, but rather involved the large sofa in the main room. As it appeared to fold out into a bed, Hunter offered to sleep on that rather than mess up a bed, but Melonie wouldn’t hear of it.

“It has no mattress in it,” she explained.

“Then I’ll sleep on it as is,” Hunter offered.

“Nonsense. It’s lumpy and horrible,” Melonie said, and Hunter had to admit, silently, that it was. “Besides, I’ve already made up the guest room for you.”

So Hunter knew then just how sure Melonie had been about being able to enlist his help. Damn her.

As Hunter undressed in his bedroom, therefore, and listened to Melonie next door, performing those mystical ablutions that are the nighttime ritual of all women, he heard her say, “The amazing thing is that, once they’d finished saying hello to you, you seemed to just disappear for them. They didn’t feel they had to keep their oath, because you weren’t there.”

“It’s not uncommon for me,” Hunter spoke through the wall as he put his shoes on the floor…both at once. “I played a butler once in a mystery where the butler did it, and the audience all left complaining that the murder wasn’t solved.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Actually, I am. The only way people remember me is in the parts I played…or if they happened to make love to me. Which reminds me, I could have nuzzled you tonight and never been noticed.”

“I would have noticed,” Melonie said sternly.

“I take that as a cue that I’ll still get slugged.”

“You take correctly.”

“Then, fill me in on what you know about Portia’s feud with Oona and Hermione’s husband and Sara’s craft store.”

“Hunter,” Melonie said with a sharp, tired edge to her voice, “I thought you were taking a holiday tonight.”

“I thought they were.”

“Well, I am,” Melonie asserted. “I’ll tell you in the morning on the way to the Dunkin Shop. Turn out your light and go to bed.”

“Will you give me a nuzzle good night?”

“Assume the prenatal position and turn your electric blanket up to nine,” she advised him. “Good night.”

It was at least an hour later that Hunter found himself still awake and thinking a new and disturbing thought.

“Melonie?” he called to the darkness.

“Yes?” it answered him.

“You still awake?”

“No, I’m sound asleep. I hear best then.”

“Something else has just occurred to me.”

“What?”

“It would have been so simple for the murderer to make Oona’s death look like an accident. You say the creek was unusually fast and deep.”

“I’ve never seen it so high, yes.”

“I would think most murderers would kill, so to speak, to have those conditions…where the death would be bound to look like an accident. But this murderer drags Oona up onto the tee, props her up and even fills in her scorecard. Why did he do that?”

“I guess he wanted to make sure everyone knew it was murder,” Melonie said, her voice thoughtful in the darkness. “I wonder why he’d want to do that?”

“I don’t know, but I agree with you. The trouble is you’ve made it look like an accident again. Everyone thinks it was an accident.”

“So?”

“So, the murderer didn’t get what he wanted. He wanted it to look like murder.”

The darkness remained silent for a long time.

“Does that mean he’ll kill again?” Melonie’s voice sounded frightened.