Author J.T. Kelly has published an action-packed, fictional thriller that weaves a mysterious murder in a small lake community into a sweeping adventure that spans the globe.
“Fair Ways and Foul Plays” begins with a sinister terror group plotting to destroy the U.S. economy. It sends menacing demands to business leaders who must comply or face the consequences. Heir to his family’s corporation and a cottage on Lake Maxinkuckee, Jack McCabe learns that he is among those who have been targeted.
Expanding its evil globally, the terrorists ultimately devise a scheme that threatens mankind by plotting to disperse a deadly virus into the world’s water systems. An international police force desperately searches for the enemy throughout Europe. It is a race against time to put an end to this horror before it can be realized.
An early reviewer wrote, “For those who crave page-turning mystery and crime fiction with unexpected plot twists, this novel will grip you to its exciting conclusion. ‘Fair Ways and Foul Plays’ is full of adventure, intrigue, blood, and gore. I genuinely enjoyed sharing your characters’ experiences.”

Targeted Age Group:: 16+

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I spent many wonderful summers on Lake Maxinkuckee in northern Indiana. Later, I lived in Europe while studying fine art and architecture as a student at the University of Notre Dame. As a lover of crime fiction, I devised a plot that involves the Lake and my European experience. The terrorists' agenda ultimately focuses on reducing the population of the world to meet its New Global Order mission. Who will stop their madness before the threat to mankind is realized?

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
There are more than 100 characters in this book and most of them form what I call The Name Game. If you are a reader, you may understand what it's all about.

Book Sample
Italian Officers Alberto Fresco and Kara Sterrio had contacted Chief Samuel Aritan at Interpol and described their missed opportunity to capture Raffone. The only thing they knew was that one of his taillights had been knocked out, but he would surely get that repaired quickly.
They had entered the Raffone premises and took a beautiful Italian woman, Piper Roni, in for questioning. While there, they searched his house for any incriminating evidence and ties to The New Global Order. From their initial surveillance, however, there was nothing outstanding they could use.
After gaining a search warrant, they requested the Florence police do a more thorough examination of the house. When they questioned Roni at the police station in Florence, it appeared she was a call girl paid by Raffone and didn’t seem aware of his criminal activities.
In the days that followed, Sterrio reported, “My source here tells me Raffone frequently dines at the Trattoria Fratelli Briganti on Piazza Giovanbattista Georgini. Don’t suppose he’d be ballsy enough to show up in public – this soon – do you?” she wondered.
“No telling what he might do, but he likes to eat and probably thinks he’s protected, so let’s check it out,” Fresco responded. “I’ve heard they have some of the best pasta in Florence. If he’s not there, we can grab a meal ourselves.”
Before heading to the restaurant, they changed into undercover casual attire, but still covertly packed their weapons and wore protective vests. Driving down Via Sallustio Bandini, they parked a block away and walked to the restaurant. A summer rain was threatening overhead among darkening clouds, which they hoped might end the intense humidity they had been having.
They entered the crowded Trattoria and sat at a booth near the front door. There was no immediate sign of Raffone, so they opened the menus to order. Soon, a friendly young waiter brought them some sparkling water and rolls and told them about la specialita: spaghettino al pomodora, which they ordered. Before the waiter left, they asked if there was a private dining room, and he confirmed there was one near the back by the restrooms. But it was currently in use.
“You don’t suppose our friend is back there with his pals, do you?” Sterrio asked with interest. “I’ll head back there and take a peek.”
Moving around tables to find her way to the restrooms, Sterrio arrived in a hallway and scanned the rooms that led from it. The door to the private dining room was ajar, but she couldn’t see inside. Without hesitating, she darted into the kitchen and presented her badge to the head chef. He reluctantly agreed to allow her to change into a waitress uniform so she could enter with a cart full of dessert choices as the guests were finishing their meals. Then she contacted Fresco, who quickly joined her in the hallway.
Knocking on the private room door, she smiled and pushed her cart near the table. Quickly searching the faces of the six men at the table, she spotted Raffone downing a glass of Chianti. Can’t believe he’s out in public already, she thought. Without giving any notification, she pulled her semiautomatic pistol from under her apron and announced her intention to arrest him.
Suddenly all the men reached for their weapons and Raffone lifted the dining table up and flipped it on its side, with plates, glasses, and bread rolls flying everywhere. One of the men fired and hit Sterrio in her left shoulder, but her right hand held the pistol and returned fire, striking two of the men.
As soon as Fresco heard her voice, he stormed in with his weapon ready, shooting the other three men and putting holes into the dining table. During the melee, Raffone was able to escape through a back door.
“You okay, Kara?” Fresco yelled as the other men lay wounded and bleeding on the floor next to the overturned table and chairs.
“I’m fine, get Raffone!” she screamed back, wincing from the bullet she took, but holding her gun on the men writhing in pain near her.
Fresco tore out of the private dining room backdoor, scrambling after the criminal. He was able to spot Raffone hopping on a Powersports Max Moped at a rental shop a half block away. Fresco ran and jumped on another one and ripped after him down Via Sallustio Bandini, weaving in and out of traffic. Raffone was headed to Piazza Pietro Leopoldo, then took a right, skidding onto Via Ubaldo Montelaciti, with Fresco making up ground behind, as rain began to fall.
Raffone zipped to Via Giandomenico Romagnosi, then took a quick left in front of several cars on Via Giovanni Maria Lampredi toward a series of industrial buildings. Raffone darted into a parking lot. Fresco thought he had lost him but continued his pursuit.
When he entered the parking lot, Fresco could hear the squeal of the scooter’s tires heading up the circular ramp above, so he followed. Reaching the end of the ramp, he spotted Raffone’s abandoned scooter. He was nowhere in sight. Jumping off his own scooter and roughly laying it on the side of the ramp, Fresco opened a door to the roof to check the sightlines. Raffone had eluded him. Fresco scanned the roof but there was no sign.
Suddenly, a small Fiat revved up and was heading toward the exit not far from Fresco, who aimed his sidearm and fired. The bullet pierced through the driver-side window and buried in Raffone’s temple. Immediately, the Fiat lost control and sped toward the side of the roof and careened over – seconds later crashing on the empty street below. Fresco ran to the edge of the building and watched as the Fiat burst into flames.
Using his mobile, he got Sterrio on the line and asked how she was doing. “I’ve been better, but I’ll survive,” she responded. “Any luck with Raffone?”
“He led me on a wild chase but ended up taking a dive in a Fiat over the side of a building,” Fresco said as he calmly described the frantic events that had just transpired.
“Three of the men at the restaurant didn’t make it. We have two in custody, headed to the hospital under armed guard. They’ll have some tough interrogation coming their way,” Sterrio assured him. “Surely these guys know something about the organization we’re after.”
As a gentle rain began falling harder, Fresco called the police and their sirens were soon heard above the noise from the city. Firemen quickly followed to extinguish the burning Fiat. But there wasn’t much left of Raffone, who obviously had his last supper.

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