fuonlyknew

Mystery / Murder & Crime Category

Private investigator Mari Ellwyn brings on a partner to investigate the blackmailing of a federal judge

When a former CIA operative and private investigator Mari Ellwyn starts digging into the blackmail case of a federal appellate judge, she becomes targeted by a van following her, threatening notes in her mailbox, and a breach of her home. Teaming up with seasoned investigator and former detective, Derek Abernathy, the crime-savvy pair begin looking into the wrongful death of a mentally-ill college student, Sophie Michaud, as well as two journalists – one dead, one missing, who were writing a story on the dead college student with allegations of her connection to the federal judge. The two investigators must uncover the truth about Sophie Michaud before her killer makes them their next target. But more importantly, Mari needs to find her missing father and reconcile her broken past and family.

Memorable characters make for a winsome, absorbing detective tale. – Kirkus Reviews

Towles does a fantastic job of pacing the storyline so that the reader hangs on to every clue as it is discovered. I recommend this for fans of crime fiction writers Baldacci, Slaughter, and Gardner. – San Francisco Book Review

It is no surprise that Towles has won recognition with numerous awards bestowed upon her work. The novel is masterfully crafted with well-defined characters and an engaging plot. Towles is a gifted writer with a real talent for building suspense. – US Review of Books

This meticulously constructed, remarkable mystery deftly explores people’s darkest flaws while revealing hard truths about the hidden workings of the world. A fast-paced and psychologically astute thriller. – Prairies Book Review

A dark, edge-of-the-seat thriller. Highly recommended! Chanticleer Reviews 5-Star Review

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CHAPTER ONE 

 

6 months later

 

Nothing good ever happened on a day you spilled black coffee on a white silk shirt. I jerked upright at 7:55 a.m. having missed a seven o’clock meeting with a prospective buyer, still plagued with the thought of the dark gray van tailing me again last night. Sure, I could tell myself fairy tales about how prosaic gray was for an automobile color, or how Ocean Park was a suburban neighborhood with lots of kids that required transport. But that was no soccer mom in the van.

The first note arrived with uncanny speed, almost too soon when you consider how many steps are involved in investigating a murder. I mean, I’d barely scratched the surface when I came home and found an index card in my mailbox. Handwritten in tall thin letters with a fine, red Sharpie, “STOP”. And back then, I’d barely started. I thought it was some kind of joke instigated by my senile neighbor who digs up objects from her front yard and delivers them to our front porches.

By the time I’d taken the judge’s first two blackmail notes to the forensics team I contract work out to, a second card arrived—this time in a plain, white business envelope, no return address, same message. This told me two things: whomever was threatening Appellate Court Judge Conrad McClaren was somehow threatened by my investigating the matter, and that finding the “who” and “why” now held more significance than I thought. But there was a third reason, one I’d barely even acknowledged to myself, about why I had to find these answers. The fate of my family and my heart depended on it.

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