CHUCK ZITO

Each year the nuns of rural St. Gilbert's College hire a city slicker to help with their summer theater festival. As the stage manager, Nicky has a lot to handle - a truly awful musical script, bickering school staff, a huge crush on the cute guy in the chorus but things are about to get a whole lot worse. Convent of Fear, the school's play, features a serial nun killer. When several cast members are murdered, the mystery moves from the stage to real life. With its suspenseful plot, loveable characters, and laugh-out-loud humor, A Habit for Death is one habit you won't want to break.

“"Zito's background in theatre is clearly an asset--he has a great ear for dialogue and the ability to set believable scenes both in the theatre and out...laugh until you weep…you will find A Habit for Death a mystery worth reading."”

--Mystery Scene Magazine

"The panache of theater director Zito's debut augurs well for a lively series."

--Kirkus

"For those theater aficionados among you, Carnegie Mellon drama graduate and San Diego theater director Chuck Zito has crafted his first (hopefully of many) Nicky D'Amico mystery, A Habit for Death. Nicky thinks he has scored an easy summer gig when he escapes the New York theater rat race to become stage-manager for a summer theater festival at a rural Pennsylvania college. Summer stock turns to summer schlock turns to stark reality, as Nicky and his crew work toward a denouement that features plenty of hilarity along the way."

--Mystery Lovers Bookshop News

"Zito's funny and lovable protagonist, Nicky D'Amico, is sure to be a favorite . . .Let's hope this laugh-out-loud romp is a preview of coming attractions."
- Booklist

“All right. Stop. Hold it. What is going on up there?” The artistic director of St. Gilbert’s Summer Theater Festival waddled his hefty self up the auditorium aisle to the edge of the stage. “You, in bed number six. Why are you laughing?”

Benjamin Singleton—Benny—oversaw the artistic operations of St. Gilbert’s. He was also directing the season’s opening musical. If artistic achievement is ten percent inspiration and ninety percent perspiration, Benny Singleton should have been well on the way to a smash hit. Despite the overworked air conditioning of the auditorium, he was soaked in summer humidity. He wore full, baggy commando-green rehearsal pants, sandals, and a light white cotton shirt. Still his clothing was plastered on wet. The bald spot in the center of his thinning blonde hair glinted with sweat.

“I don’t know,” answered the voice of an eight-year-old. Confronted with Benny Singleton’s anger, laughter fast gave way to childhood terror.

“Shouldn’t we do something?” That was my assistant, Patsy Malone, an aggressively competent college freshman with an unrelenting sense of duty.

“Like what? Personally, I’m rooting for the children,” I said.

In fact, I was rooting for peace and quiet. It was Monday evening of the final days of rehearsals. We were almost exactly one week away from our first audience. Even though it would be a small first-preview house, an audience is an audience. They stand like a brick wall in front of you. If you smack into them without the right preparation, you get splattered. On the other hand, plan well, rehearse hard, and you can usually get through the first encounter without too many bruises. I was planning hard.

Unfortunately, the artistic director was not rehearsing so well. We’d scheduled the first technical run-through for Thursday. After four weeks of desultory rehearsal, the cast would meet the scenery and props for the first time. The light and set designers would argue with each other about whether or not anyone had ever mentioned that special green light. “Did you mean to make her look so ill, darling?” The costumes would produce their own private hell at another time.

“What do you suggest, Patsy?” I asked. “Shall I have him committed or just shoot him now?”

Midnight Ink grants permission to use this excerpt as originally printed in: A Habit For Death, Midnight Ink, 2143 Wooddale Dr, St Paul, MN 55125