A lot can happen in a five minute speed dating experience. For Rob MacKay and Michelle Del Carlo it’s the beginning of a growing love, until the murder of two of those involved in the dating event threatens to destroy their relationship. Set in San Francisco and Marin County and emersed in the aspect of college athletics, Rob and Michelle are first suspected of committing he murders, then, in proving their innocence they help unravel the mystery, hoping that their involvement will not destroy their love for each other.

Note from the author: A year after my second son met the woman that was to become his wife, I finally got the courage to ask her how they had met. She told me that they had met Speed Dating. I knew nothing about that process so she explained what it was. She also confided in me that the ten women had shared information as to which four men they had picked, and when the word from the company came in, which of them had been picked by each man. She also said that she knew which of the women that my son had identified and she was taking no chances, she jumped the gun and phoned him.

I was astounded. Men would never of thought to share information like the women had. The more I thought about it the more I thought there was a book in hiding. I started out writing a romance, but murder kept getting in the way. I decided to write it in first person, a style that had eluded me in previous attempts. This time it felt right and I liked the voice.

After it was written I realized that there were a lot of things that were personal, especially in the first couple of chapters. I thought I better get their approval. They were actually pleased at the draft, and The Speed Dating Murders went to press. 

Excerpt

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Let me back up a bit. My name is Rob MacKay. I'm a thirty-one-year-old heterosexual male assistant basketball coach at a Division I university. I'm six-foot four, which is tall--not so tall as to make things awkward, but still tall enough to be well over the norm. I wouldn't call myself handsome, but I've never been called ugly, and too many have said that I have a great smile for me not to believe them. I smile a lot.

It's the job that led to the problem. You see, the coaching lifestyle doesn't offer many chances to meet women. Oh, there are plenty of women around, but students are a sure way to lose your job. The women coaches for the most part are married or otherwise unavailable. With daily practices, recruiting, and travel, there's not much time for socializing.

The night I tried the Quick Dates event, we were directed to the Insider Lounge at the corner of Bush and Powell. It was a nice place. Bars had taken a real hit during the COVID pandemic and although open were still not very busy. It seemed that the Insider had done well by the event and the twenty or so daters. There were ten tables set up, each with a small glass vase holding a single rose. Even the lighting had been turned up a notch over what I suspected was the usual. Posted at the entrance to the bar was a sign saying RESERVED FOR EVENT TONIGHT, so it was easy to look around and check out the women and also the competition. Trying not to be too arrogant, I concluded that at least seven of the guys wouldn't be much to worry about. Five were what I would call really unattractive. On the other hand, at least five of the women were really spectacular. The other five women were also good looking, but three were vertically challenged and one seemed unhappy, like maybe she didn't want to be there.

Fifteen minutes after the appointed meeting time, the organizer, who had been collecting names, asked for everyone's attention and began giving out numbered cards and assigning the women to tables. I'm not sure what I had expected of an organizer, but I hadn't expected an obviously gay guy to be running a heterosexual dating event. His name was Bruce. He was friendly, helpful, and very efficient, and while not flamboyant, he was clearly batting for the other team. He was perfect for the job--equally at ease with both groups, and not a threat to either side. Once he had all the women arranged at their separate tables, sitting resolutely behind their numbers, glasses of white wine at hand, he started pairing off the guys. The bell rang, and the first five-minute period began. 

The whole exercise took about an hour and a half. What I did not appreciate at the time was that five minutes with one of the women when we didn't click seemed like twenty, while the time with the ones I found attractive in looks and personality seemed over in a second. Right off the bat, on the first change of tables, there was a disturbance. At first I thought it was at the bar, but the bartender, who'd been busy before everyone sat down, pouring white wine for the women and red wine and beer for the guys, was leaning on the bar on his elbows, watching the proceedings with a bemused expression. The disturbance was between two of the men at a far table. It seemed that one of the guys had insisted on an extra five minutes with girl number nine. I could hear only a little of the conversation as Bruce joined them, but I did hear Bruce say "No." The guy stood up and gave him an angry Don't you know who I am look. I had noticed him when he came in. He was tall but in a gangly way, with a quarter-inch space between his two upper front teeth. He was one of those I'd mentally labeled unattractive. Things settled down and the guy moved on.

The only other disturbance happened at the table I had just left, as I was sitting down at my third table. It was occupied by a good-looking Chinese girl whom I was close to putting on my list, except for her not reaching my height requirement. The guy following me in the rotation was named Hank. I knew this because he would announce it loudly each time he sat down. He tipped over the girl's glass of wine, spilling a few drops on her blouse. She was pissed, but he called the bartender over with a refill and things calmed down. I was surprised that several of the other guys were getting animated responses from women at the adjacent tables. Looking at them again, I realized that they were probably techies. The profile of an alpha male had shifted in recent years from tall, good-looking, square-jawed types to loafer-wearing techies with high-paying jobs and stock options.

At the end of the evening, I had scribbled down the maximum of four names each of us was allowed, and bingo--two days later, I got an email from Quick Dates saying that all four women had put me down as well. Excellent!