Some killers leave bodies. Others leave questions. Sydney Livingstone faces both in Serves You Right a Crime Thriller Novel by Orion Gregory Book Tour with Guest Post and Author Interview

Some killers leave bodies. Others leave questions. In Orion Gregory’s Serves You Right, one detective must face both.

Sydney Livingstone believed trading her tennis career for police work would give her the steady life she craved. But in Walsh County, Ohio, calm doesn’t last long. A vigilante calling himself The Enforcer begins targeting criminals with chilling precision, posting digital manifestos that taunt the system. As the crimes grow bolder, Sydney realizes the danger isn’t just on the streets—it may be coming from inside her department.

When evidence points toward betrayal close at hand, suspicion spreads like wildfire. A stalker shadows a veteran officer, colleagues eye one another with mistrust, and the press circles like vultures. Sydney must pick apart lies and buried secrets before the killer strikes again. But with The Enforcer always a step ahead, every choice she makes could be her last. Gregory’s novel captures the razor-thin line between justice and vengeance in a story of betrayal, danger, and survival.

Orion Gregory has been captivated by mysteries ever since he picked up his first Agatha Christie novel as a child. That passion carried him through a Communications degree at Wright State University and into an award-winning career in journalism and advertising, later branching into sports writing. Alongside raising a family with his wife, Fran, and a long career in sales, he coached tennis, a sport that sharpened his sense of strategy—something woven into his fiction. Now based in Southwest Ohio, Gregory devotes himself to crime thrillers that test trust, reveal hidden motives, and keep readers turning the pages. Learn more at his website.

Amazon: https://amzn.to/4gEGWTZ

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/237696808-serves-you-right

Excerpt

He looked over at Andrea, who was happily finishing a chili dog next to a side of circular, mangled fries. She was saying something about changing the drapes in the front window of her house, but Frank wasn’t listening. 

His hamburger looked nauseating. Even the idea of taking a sip of beer made him want to vomit. The smell was now all-encompassing. 

A pair of young boys chased each other, darting between tables. One bumped their table, causing some of Frank’s beer to spill. 

“Undisciplined brats,” he muttered. “Can you imagine what kind of adults they’re going to be?” 

Murderers? Spouse killers? 

There goes Sheila again, funneling bullshit into my mind. 

“We were all there once,” said Andrea. “Just ignore them.” 

Frank smiled, wondering how Andrea wasn’t overcome by the disgusting smell. “You know what, I’m not really hungry,” he said. “I’m going to throw this stuff out.” Distracted by the unpleasant odor, Frank forgot about the possibility he was being followed. He fell into line behind two teenagers who were attempting to shove their trash inside an overflowing receptacle. The park seemed to be growing more crowded by the minute. 

The park noises consumed Frank's thoughts. Ice cream machines revved crazily in a high pitch, barbeque grills hissed louder than usual, and soda machines buzzed. Kids squealed at their parents while nearby game operators hollered at customers to step forward and win prizes. 

He glanced upward, noticing hot-air balloons in the distance, moving toward the theme park. They were decorated with bold, contrasting colors. The late afternoon sun cast its light onto them, creating a living rainbow of color in the open air. 

Frank's eyes honed on one particular balloon, a white teardrop with silver accents and a printed logo. Four passengers waved cheerfully at everyone below. He struggled to read all the letters, but his mind was quick to fill in the gaps. 

Murderer.

Frank was now trapped by the growing crowd. They jostled him, making it impossible to breathe properly. If he had the military sword that he found in Afghanistan, he could clear a five-foot radius around himself with a 360-degree swing. And what was that stinging sensation near his spine? Had a bee or wasp stung him? Or did someone accidentally jab him with a plastic fork? 

But the stinging sensation was less noticeable than the certainty that he was being taunted from the heavens by some bastard who had rented a hot-air balloon. How was that possible? Who would’ve even known he would be at this theme park at this exact time? 

Frank saw Andrea walking toward him, carrying a hot-fudge sundae. “Surprise!” she said. “I bought you a little treat. I figured maybe some ice cream would stimulate your appetite.” 

Andrea, he thought? Of course. She was the only person who knew they were coming here today. But she would never betray him, would she? Andrea had stood steadfast by his side for two years. Had someone gotten to her? Was she gaslighting him so she could end up with everything? No, that couldn’t be right. 

Andrea handed the ice cream to Frank. “Have some,” she said. “It might make you feel better.” 

Why wasn’t she looking skyward? Playing coy? Perhaps. But then again, maybe someone else was behind all of this. 

Frank let the sundae fall out of his hands. It struck the ground, cracking its plastic container and oozing white and brown onto the concrete. 

“Shit, Frank. I just paid seven bucks for that. What the hell are you doing?” “Look up,” said Frank. “That white-and-silver balloon to the west. Tell me what you see.” 

“Yeah, I guess it’s nice,” she shrugged. “They all are. Why are you acting so strange?” “Read the message on the balloon,” said Frank. “Tell me what it says.” Andrea squinted, looking upward.

“I don’t understand why it matters, but I’ll give it a go. Um - it appears to be a moving and storage company, I think. Yes, ‘Furderer Moving and Storage.’ Now, why was that important enough to drop your ice cream?” 

Furderer. Not Murderer? 

Shit. In all the hullabaloo of the last several years, Frank had neglected to update his contact lens prescription. 

“Andrea, I am so sorry,” he said. “For some reason, I’m not feeling well.” Perhaps it was the combined smells of the food court, or maybe it was something else. The stinging sensation on his back was now more painful. 

“I think I need to find a place to sit.” 

Andrea placed her hand on his shoulder and attempted to help him navigate through the tight crowd. In the distance, Frank could see a few vacant seats located around a water fountain. It looked inviting - water spraying upward in a fanning arc, sparkling in the sun’s reflection. 

He’d cool off near the fountain. Once he gathered his thoughts, they could leave and resume their romantic getaway. He grabbed Andrea by her outstretched arm and pulled her toward the fountain. When he was only steps away, Frank collided with a distracted man - holding four large translucent cups of beer - coming from the opposite direction. The impact caused the man to lose his balance, sending the cups tumbling out of his hand and onto the ground. 

The man turned to Frank, his face red with anger. “Watch where you’re going, asshole!” he shouted. “That’s $36 of beer you spilled. You’re either gonna pay me back or I’m going to kick your ass and take the money out of your wallet myself.” The stinging sensation seemed to be increasing by the second. He tried to focus on the man, but his vision blurred. 

The man leaned in, transferring saliva into Frank’s face as he continued his verbal barrage. 

Frank understood the most logical solution would be to remain calm and pay the man for the spilled beer, especially after the last two tumultuous years. But between the insult and challenge to his manhood, Frank certainly wasn’t going to back down now.

Frank’s tormentor was about 6’ 2” and would be fortunate to reach 160 pounds. He looked like someone who had experienced a few too many go-rounds with methamphetamines. With Frank’s superior size and strength to go along with his hand-to-hand combat techniques, he knew he’d have this guy on the ground in a matter of seconds, begging for his life. 

The man grinned, displaying two missing front teeth. His crooked nose had obviously been broken before. He sported a stained blue ball cap, a heavy-metal T-shirt, and his blue jeans displayed holes in the knees. 

Andrea tugged at Frank’s shirt sleeve. “Let’s just go.” 

Frank moved closer. “I give you one free shot,” he growled. “From that point on, I’m only defending myself.” 

Frank held his hands low. Even a direct shot didn’t really concern him. He’d taken huge punches from some of the top instructors in the area during his martial arts classes. Surely, this guy wouldn’t even come close to matching them. 

Frank suddenly was seeing two images of the man in front of him. And then three. The world was rotating around him like a turbo-charged merry-go-round. He no longer was thinking about moving his head at the sight of an incoming fist. He couldn’t focus his vision on any one thing. He could hear Andrea begging him to stop among the chats of a bunch of high school kids who were encouraging the other man to throw a punch. And the stinging pain in his back had become even more intense. He lost all feeling in his legs. 

At the same time, the man barreled his head into Frank’s face. He heard laughing from above him. Everything was a blur. And still, there was that stinging sensation in his lower back. He heard Andrea scream. And then, Frank lost consciousness.

Guest Post:

I discovered writing as a kid and realized that I wasn’t too bad at it. I was always drawn towards mysterious stories, either in books or on television. I loved it when you didn’t know who the culprit was or why they were doing it. It was fun to watch those shows with others and take a poll on who we thought was the perpetrator.

In grade school, we had to complete projects and present them to the class. Never an artist by any means, I always opted to write stories and read them aloud. As an avid sports fan, I was always reading newspaper articles on every major sport and some off the beaten path. I remember informing my parents that I wanted to be a sportswriter.

So after graduating from college with a Communications Degree, I found a job at a small community newspaper in the sports department. I loved every minute of the job, despite working more than 50 hours a week. The problem was that the salary was so low, I couldn’t even afford to purchase a pair of jeans. When I finally saved up enough money to purchase an engagement ring for my wife, my bank account was never able to recover.

I left sports writing and worked in advertising for a few years. The pay was better but still stiflingly low. My wife and I wanted to have a family, and I felt it was better if we could actually FEED the kids. So that started a 25-year career in sales where I sold many different products for several companies, including pagers, computer supplies, credit card processing equipment, and finally janitorial supplies. It helped pay our bills, but my love for writing never left me. In fact, it called to me on a regular basis.

We saved our pennies and invested wisely. I was able to retire early. From that point, I declared that I would never do work again that I didn’t enjoy. So now I spend most of my time writing novels and coaching and teaching the sport of tennis.

My ultimate dream has nothing to do with making millions of dollars or achieving any sort of fame. But rather, if I could walk down a beach and observe vacationers reading and enjoying my novels, then I will have achieved my goal.

Author Q&A

Writing Process & Creativity

How did you research your book?

Fortunately, I have several friends who are doctors and another who is a police officer. With the internet today, so much information is at your fingertips on virtually any subject. I do know, however, that if the authorities ever examine my search engines, I’m going to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, regardless if they have any proof.

What’s the hardest scene or character you wrote—and why?

The most challenging scene and character was Rex Cutter, the person who assaulted Frank McBride at the amusement park. Here, a redneck, hillbilly character attempts to play a tough-guy role against a person who has committed a cold-blooded murder. If it had just been the two of them together, Cutter more than likely would have been seriously injured or killed. As it was, he emerged believing he vanquished his opponent.

Where do you get your ideas?

I’ve loved the thriller/mystery genre since I was a kid. Sometimes when I’m simply experiencing life, I find myself plugging in “what-ifs.” What if a mysterious note appeared on a picnic table at a reunion? What if I saw my picture on a most-wanted list? What if those three people on the street corner were assassins? Most of those ideas never lead to anything, but there’s always a few that stick with you and have the potential to bloom.

What sets your book apart from others in your genre?

A vigilante who attracts attention on the dark web becomes very interesting when the reader understands that he or she has ties to the police department. When a flawed rookie female detective seeks to find the culprit while dealing with the precinct's “good-ol’-boy network”, you’ve got yourself quite a story.

What helps you overcome writer’s block?

I don’t know if many of the so-called cures really work. I think you must place your butt in the chair and write, whether you feel like it or not. Once you begin working, good things begin to happen.

What’s your favorite compliment you’ve received as a writer?

Several people have told me that they couldn’t put the book down. Another said that it “doesn’t let you breathe.” Those are probably the biggest compliments, especially since I strive to never, ever bore the reader with extraneous details. If someone finishes your novel, you probably did something right along the way,

 

Your Writing Life

Do you write every day? What’s your schedule?

I’d love to tell you I have a strict regimen I follow, but currently, I really don’t. Sometimes it’s hard for creative people to get pinned down on specific hours during the day. You never know when inspiration is going to find you. But with the help of my wife, I’m working on becoming more predictably organized. But it’s definitely a work in progress.

Where do you write—home, coffee shop, train?

I do most of my writing at my home office. But when I need to be creative and think deeply, such as coming up with an inventive plot or new twist, I go to the library. I can’t watch television there, take phone calls, or fetch a snack from the cupboard. For some reason, I do my best organizing and planning at the library, although the nuts and bolts of writing are usually accomplished at home.

Any quirky writing rituals or must-have snacks?

I exercise a lot, sometimes to an excessive level. I can’t write well unless I am relaxed from a good workout. I try to get my workout done early so the creative juices will flow. As for snacks, just about anything goes. I alternate between salty and sweet.

 

Behind the Book

Why did you choose this setting?

My friend Greg Fair lives in Northeast Ohio. I had visited him a couple of times and I enjoyed the small town feel of the communities near Carrollton. I had a wonderful lunch in a restaurant/bar in the quaint town of Minerva, Ohio. I thought about titling this past book “Murder in Minerva.” That title is still on the table for #3 or #4.

If your book became a movie, who would star in it?

I think Sydney Sweeney would do an excellent job playing Sydney Livingstone. As for the other cops, I think there are so many that could fit the bill. Queen Latifah would be an excellent Griffith. Penn Badgley would be an ideal Mitsoff.

Which author(s) most inspired you?

As a kid, I read Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes novels. I loved trying to solve a mystery, even though I failed most of the time. My favorite writers of today are James Patterson and CJ Box. I think it’s very important to read the genre you’re going to be writing about. The bestselling authors are not there by accident, so they’re doing something right.

Fun & Lighthearted Qs

What’s your go-to comfort food?

I love peanuts, diet soda, red wine, and chocolate. Unfortunately, all those treats are taboo for me now as I suffer from migraine headaches. So now vanilla is my flavor of choice, whether it be in protein bars, protein drinks, or ice cream. And if you place a tray of nacho chips and salsa in front of me, you won’t hear a peep for at least an hour.

If you could time-travel, where would you go?

The Kennedy Assassination - and everything associated with it -  has always fascinated me; therefore, I would like to go back to Dallas’ Dealey Square in 1963 about an hour before the assassination. I’d like to be in the Texas School Book Depository an hour before the shooting to see if I could do anything to stop Oswald and conspirators (if there were any) from killing the president. Who knows how preventing that assassination would have changed our country and the world?

What 3 books would you bring to a desert island?

1.      The Bible

2.      An Idiot’s Guide for Getting Off A Desert Island

3.      Boatbuilding Without Tools

What’s something that made you laugh this week?

I just returned from my first trip overseas. We spent nine days in Italy and had a wonderful time. We were returning to a hotel from our tour of Pompei. I was extremely tired from the trip, so I tied a pullover jacket in a knot and wrapped it around my eyes so I could sleep in the car. At a stop light, I sat up in the seat with my eyes still firmly covered. I was told a guy in the car next to us spotted me and had a surprised look on his face. I guess it appeared I had been taken as a hostage. We recalled that story over wine and limoncello and laughed until we cried.

 

 

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