Everyone on the train hides something.

When the Australian Crime Literature Writers Club invited me to their festival of crime literature aboard the famous Jan train that connects Darwin and Adelaide, I hoped for some inspiration for my second book: a novel this time. I needed a break from killing real people, each other. As is clear, I did not succeed in that. The program consisted of a select group of crime literature nobles: a novice writer (me!). A forensic science writer. A bestselling author. An author of thrilling courtroom novels. A literature writer. A psychological suspense writer. But when one of us is killed, the rest of the writers turn into five detectives. Together, we must know how to solve the crime. And of course, we must also know how to commit a crime. How can you discover the killer when all the suspects know very well how to get away with the crime?