Posts Tagged ‘mystery’

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Welcome to the world of Allie Nighthawk, corpse whisperer and bad ass zombie hunter.

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The Corpse Whisperer

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An Allie Nighthawk Mystery Book 1

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by H.R. Boldwood

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Genre: Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Mystery

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Zombie hunting just got wicked fun!

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Welcome to the world of Allie Nighthawk, corpse whisperer and bad ass zombie hunter.

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“If you raise deadheads, you’d better be able to put ‘em down. Nobody said it was pretty. But in this day, when vampires aren’t just for breakfast anymore, and the dead are disposable pawns for necromancers, someone has to ante up. Looks like I won the lotto. Imagine my delight. You should thank me, really, because the world is batshit crazy.”

When the zombie population spikes and no one knows why, it’s up to Allie to solve the mystery. But there’s a hitch. She’s stuck babysitting Leo Abruzzi, a zombie-bitten gangster who’s turning state’s evidence. But the mob and a powerful necromancer will stop at nothing to take Leo and Allie down.

Allie Nighthawk is Anita Blake on steroids, with a fondness for leather and Jack on the rocks. She has a healthy dose of Stephanie Plum and Rachel Morgan in her, too, though she’d never admit it. The battle between good and evil just got wicked fun.

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What advice would you give new authors? What are common traps for aspiring authors?

 

From a technical perspective, I encourage new authors to tighten their writing, tighten it again, and then tighten more. Readers want a page-turning pace, but be careful to not edit the voice out of your characters or your narrator.

 

It’s common for new writers to “info dump,” which means plopping too much exposition or backstory upfront. Use a deft hand when splicing those all-important facts into your story. Too much exposition slows the pace of the narrative.

 

Find an online or in-person writing group where the participants have at least your level of experience (preferably more experience than you.) Check your ego at the door. Listen and learn. If one reader has an issue with a specific area of your story, it may or may not be a matter of personal preference. If multiple people give you similar feedback, they are probably on to something. Keep in mind that the story you wrote belongs to you. You can choose which feedback suits you and which doesn’t.

 

Don’t get attached to your words. Sometimes, I have a passage I love, but it doesn’t work where I’ve placed it. Rather than discard the passage, I move it to a “keep file” where I can access it again at another point in time.

 

There is a world of online writing information at your fingertips. Educate yourself, whether it’s learning how to format a manuscript, create compelling three-dimensional characters, pace your story, or outline a novel. There are also excellent online and in-person seminars on every writing-related topic imaginable. The more you know and the more professional your manuscript appears, the better your chances of seeing your work professionally published.

 

Find an experienced mentor to help guide you through the writing process if you can. Let them read your work and provide feedback. Soak up their words of wisdom!

 

Use an editor. There are millions of authors out there, all seeking publication. Don’t let punctuation errors, wonky sentence structure, or plot holes kick you to the curb before an agent or publisher gets to the meat of your story.

 

Once you think your manuscript is polished, forward it to experienced beta readers, not just your mom or Aunt Sally. Good beta readers help you spot logic errors, inadvertent name/time frame changes, and typos that have magically survived your own editing process.

 

Once you send your manuscript out into the world, be aware that the publishing industry moves at the speed of molasses. Have patience when it comes to expecting responses. Expect a ton of rejections before you receive an acceptance. And when you do get an acceptance, read the publisher’s contract very carefully. Have a professional look it over before you sign. You don’t want to be locked into an agreement that isn’t mutually satisfying.

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Corpse Whisperer Sworn

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An Allie Nighthawk Mystery Book 2

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Zombies, Voodoo, and Hoodoo-what would you do?

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Follow Allie Nighthawk to exciting New Orleans where she raises the dead, puts down rotters, and dabbles in the mystical world of hoodoo. She’s on the trail of an evil necromancer who will stop at nothing to rule the world with his army of deadheads. Is her magick strong enough to save the day? Or will this necromancer from her past kill her before she gets the chance? She figures she’s got a fifty-fifty shot. Make that forty-sixty.

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Life Among the Tombstones

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An Allie Nighthawk Mystery Prequel

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Freelance zombie hunter seeking full-time employment-benefits required.

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In this prequel to The Corpse Whisperer series, financially challenged zombie hunter, Allie Nighthawk, returns to her hometown of Cincinnati and finds herself knee-deep in murder, mayhem, and zombies. Can she solve not one but two murders, and get away unscathed — when the good guys might not be so good, and a presence from her past returns for revenge?

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**Get it FREE!**

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Corpse Whisperer Torn

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An Allie Nighthawk Mystery Book 3

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Zombie hunting 101: Never tell your neighbors what you do for a living.

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Just after sunrise, I jumped on my Harley and hurtled toward Templeman’s Funeral Home, packing Hawk, my custom 9mm, a backup Glock, and a seven-inch Ka-Bar knife—the standard-issue zombie-hunter’s tool kit. Not that I’m standard-issue, by any stretch. I was born with the ability to raise the dead. It’s a genetic thing. Don’t ask me how it works. I didn’t write the playbook. I’m just living the dream.”

Allie Nighthawk faces a ghost from her past as she explores the fascinating and historic world of Cincinnati’s underground. When the Z-virus threatens world-wide contamination, it’s up to Allie to save the day. Is her magick strong enough to turn the tide? Or will doubt and inner demons stand in her way? And will those she loves survive?

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H.R. Boldwood, author of the Corpse Whisperer series, countless short stories, and Imadjinn Award finalist, is a writer of horror and speculative fiction. In another incarnation, Boldwood is a Pushcart Prize nominee and winner of the 2009 Bilbo Award for creative writing by Thomas More College. Boldwood’s characters are often disreputable and not to be trusted. They are kicked to the curb at every conceivable opportunity when some poor unsuspecting publisher welcomes them with open arms. No responsibility is taken by this author for the dastardly and sometimes criminal acts committed by this ragtag group of miscreants.

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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Welcome to The Friday 56!

 

This is a really fun meme!

The only rules are to grab a book (any book), turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader and find a sentence or a few (no spoilers) that grabs you and post it.

Then go over to Anne at My Head is Full of Books and leave your link so we can visit your 56!

My 56 for this week is from

The Night Swim

  by Megan Goldin

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Genre: Mystery / Thriller

From page 56 in the paperback.

“I’ll expect you both at dinner time. Not a second before.”

“Sure, Mom.” Her voice was drowned out by the rattle of the car.

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Synopsis

Ever since her true-crime podcast became an overnight sensation and set an innocent man free, Rachel Krall has become a household name—and the last hope for people seeking justice. But she’s used to being recognized for her voice, not her face. Which makes it all the more unsettling when she finds a note on her car windshield, addressed to her, begging for help.

The new season of Rachel’s podcast has brought her to a small town being torn apart by a devastating rape trial. A local golden boy, a swimmer destined for Olympic greatness, has been accused of raping the beloved granddaughter of the police chief. Under pressure to make Season 3 a success, Rachel throws herself into her investigation—but the mysterious letters keep coming. Someone is following her, and she won’t stop until Rachel finds out what happened to her sister twenty-five years ago. Officially, Jenny Stills tragically drowned, but the letters insist she was murdered—and when Rachel starts asking questions, nobody in town wants to answer. The past and present start to collide as Rachel uncovers startling connections between the two cases—and a revelation that will change the course of the trial and the lives of everyone involved.

Electrifying and propulsive, The Night Swim asks: What is the price of a reputation? Can a small town ever right the wrongs of its past? And what really happened to Jenny?

Amazon

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It’s going to be a wild ride so strap in and hold on.

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Moonlight Beach

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Murder and Magic Book 1

by Yurie Kiri

Genre: Supernatural Murder Mystery, Paranormal Thriller

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Winner of the 2020 Hollywood Book Festival’s award for Genre Fiction.

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Chick lit Café Awards First Place toMoonlight Beach: Murder and Magic by Yurie Kirifor best Paranormal Thriller, Crime & Mystery – April 2023.

What Is Shattering The Idyllic, Seaside Community Of Rancho, California?

Grisly death. Bodies washing up on nearby Moonlight Beach. It’s downright disconcerting to the privileged one percent living in their gated communities in one of SoCal’s ritziest enclaves. Worse, they have no idea what or who is behind the slaughter.

Is It Sharks? Something Supernatural? Greedy Venture Capitalists?

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Maneaters are known to inhabit the waters off Moonlight Beach, but shark attacks are rare. What about black magic, satanic rituals? A coven of witches lives nearby. Or could it be the venture capitalists, whose latest company harvests human organs for transplant, exploiting the vulnerable to save the wealthy elite?

The Violence Shows No Signs Of Ending

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Two more people are killed on a cliff overlooking the beach – and all their organs are missing. This bloody terror isn’t slowing down. It’s accelerating. What the hell is going on? They better figure all this out before more people get butchered or, God forbid, Rancho’s inflated property values plummet.

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**On Sale Now for Only .99cents!!**

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Moonlight Canyon

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Murder and Magic Book 2

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“Moonlight Duology” has just been selected as the winner in the “Sequels” category for the 2023 Los Angeles Book Festival. Moonlight Canyon, the second half of Moonlight Duology is the sequel to the award-winning book, Moonlight Beach.

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Terrible Things Are Happening In Silver City

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The rural paradise of Silver City, just south of Moonlight Canyon, is under attack. Half-eaten, mutilated bodies are showing up in public places. The peaceful residents of Silver City are in a panic. Horrible murders shouldn’t happen here. Evil like that is reserved for the big cities, right? Wrong.

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Are Drug Smugglers To Blame?

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A powerful, south of the border, drug kingpin named Tito Ocotillo could be responsible. Tito’s biker gang, the Coyotes, are very capable of murdering their enemies and putting them on public display as a warning to others.

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Could It Be Space Aliens? Or Ancient Native American Dark Rituals?

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Some people believe that space aliens are dismembering people to study us. Tito Ocotillo is using an old, mysterious Native American woman called Jane to try and open up a portal to the underworld. Whatever is terrorizing Silver City must be stopped and fast before this pastoral heaven becomes a living hell.

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Moonlight Duology

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Murder and Magic Books 1 & 2

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Yurie Kiri’s novel “Moonlight Beach” won the 2020 Hollywood Book Festival’s award for Genre Fiction is packaged here in the “Moonlight Duology” with its sequel “Moonlight Canyon”. These two books have been described as something like Carlos Castaneda’s “The Teachings of Don Juan…” combined with Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road” only more intense.

Now “Moonlight Duology” has just been selected as the winner in the “Sequels” category for the 2023 Los Angeles Book Festival.

Dive into the gripping ‘Moonlight Duology’ – a psychic thriller combination of murder mystery and supernatural intrigue that will keep you on the edge of your seat from the first page to the last.

The ‘Moonlight Duology’ is a classic psychic thriller that will captivate your imagination, leaving you breathless and yearning for more with its series of unfortunate events. A masterful blend of Carlos Castaneda’s mystique and Jack Kerouac’s raw energy, this series will redefine your understanding of intensity.”

Moonlight Duology: Murder and Magic Books 1 and 2 by Yurie Kiri are both awarded in the world of books that are captivating and filled with suspense with a hint of masterful supernatural elements. Find out Kindle Unlimited today and prepare yourself for a journey of violence, witchcraft, and crime.

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Moonlight Rocks

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Murder and Magic Book 3

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“A Wild and Crazy Ride.”

“… if you’re not used to the writer, buckle up.”

“This book has very great character development with a plot so great that you can’t ignore nor get enough…”

“The author’s use of religion to push the plot forward and develop characters is so masterfully crafted and unique – I’ve personally never seen in done in a novel like it is portrayed in Moonlight Rocks.”

Amazon 5-star Reviewers

What would you do if God fell into your lap?

Jessy Ascher and her friends set up camp near Moonlight Rocks in the California desert to watch the Leonid meteor shower. After darkness falls, a stunningly bright meteor suddenly flashes across the sky blinding the friends to the approaching danger.

The meteorite blasts into their camp site knocking everyone unconscious but Jessy quickly regains her senses. Her friends however, cannot be roused. Instinctively she grabs the still smoking meteorite and stumbles downhill toward the jeep she arrived in, desperate to get help for her friends…

But, Jessy isn’t alone in that rough, cactus-filled landscape… two dark figures who also saw the meteor flashing down to Earth are frantically searching the same area and they are ready to do anything… even murder to get their hands on a meteorite they could sell to the highest bidder.

And what about the meteorite? Others have been waiting for its arrival. Cultists, fanatical members of nearby religious or supernatural factions – some good, some evil – believe that the meteor heralds the birth of a new Messiah and they, too, are ready to do anything to gain control of the blessed rock.

Jessy wants help for her friends, others want the meteorite for their own end, but the Meteorite, it wants something too… Is this the dawn of a new spiritual age, or just a bunch of psychos raging in the desert?

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Moonlight Rip Tide

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Murder and Magic Book 4

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Want to go for a ride in a classic car? Park by the ocean? Sounds nice huh?

Mona found the man and his car, a beautiful, old Ferrari, very attractive. Sure, she’d go for a ride with him to look at the ocean, the party was boring anyway. Maybe by the time they got back things would liven up a bit…

She felt the bag tighten around her neck, cutting off her air supply. This cannot be happening. She gasped and struggled, but it was no use. He was as strong as he was classically handsome, a real Hollywood leading man type. Everything went dark as she lost consciousness, her last thought was about the mistake she’d made threatening to tell Danny’s wife…

Susan felt that someone was stalking her. She’d gotten several strange calls attempting to make appointments for private exercise and aerobics lessons. Dicky and the cops had wrecked her apartment and she needed to work to get a new place but she was afraid to take on an unknown client. What should she do?

“Get in the car or your pregnant friend is dead!” he said hoarsely. Susan must save Anne, but how?

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**Coming soon Spring 2024!**

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Yurie Kiri speaks Japanese, English, French and has studied Chinese, Arabic, and Spanish and a smattering of other languages such as Korean and Russian along with binary and hexadecimal machine language. Why? Because if you really want to get to know someone, you need to speak their language no matter if they’re machine or human.

Yurie lived and worked in Asia for decades before recently coming to America. Yurie went on an extensive backroad journey all across the US and Canada. Yurie also sailed (single-handed) from Mexico to the Canadian border, retracing a well-traveled road journey by sea in a small, live-aboard sailboat.

Yurie has been traveling and gathering story ideas from Asia for the Game Series, which covers Japan and other Asian countries, and North America for the Murder and Mystery Series which covers the American Southwest.

And, yes, Yurie does not use pronouns (for a reason). For one thing, it keeps the reader guessing – is Yurie male, female, non-binary, or even a machine? No one really knows for sure…

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

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Dead Letters by P.J. Murphy

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Category:  Adult Fiction (18+), 349 pages
Genre:  Mystery, Literary Fiction
Publisher:  P.J. Murphy
Release date:   May 2023
Content Rating:  PG-13 +M. The book is not violent, and swearing is infrequent. There are a number of references to ghosts, but the atmosphere is more gothic than scary (with one exception). However, it is a book aimed squarely at adults, with references to depression and mental illness.

Book Description:

“If you want to find me, search within these pages.”

Bestselling author Richard Debden is missing. The only clue: a copy of his unpublished final novel delivered to his ex-girlfriend, Amy. When those closest to Richard reunite for his memorial, Amy turns to Chris, his former best friend, to help unravel the mystery. Could Richard still be alive and in need of their help?

Richard’s manuscript tells of two abandoned children in wartime Britain, instructed by a shadowy Postmaster to deliver letters to ghosts and release them from their torment. As Chris and Amy delve into the text, they identify parallels between fiction and reality; clues to a trail that leads across the country and – they hope – to Richard.

But they are not the only interested party. A mysterious society is following them, their motives unclear. Can Chris and Amy unlock the secrets of Dead Letters, or will more sinister forces get there first?

Dead Letters is the captivating second novel by P.J. Murphy, author of Troubleshot.

Buy the Book:
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Interview with Author P. J. Murphy
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  • Where did you get the idea for Dead Letters?

Dead Letters resulted from two ideas coming together. The first was my desire to write a gothic ghost story – not scary but depicting ghosts in unusual situations and considering them as memories of people and events. The second was the idea of puzzling apart the truth behind a novel. After reading my previous novels, some people told me they could guess the real-life inspiration behind certain characters and events. I thought, ‘There’s a novel in that!’ Put the two together, and you have Dead Letters.

  • What other writers do you admire?

I try to read wide and avoid limiting myself to particular genres. Saying that, the author I have read the most is probably Terry Pratchett. The wisdom and humour that’s packed into his books is really quite staggering. The Vimes ones have some pretty good mystery plots, too. I also enjoy the work of Jeffrey Eugenides. His style of writing is very evocative and, at times, jaw-droppingly beautiful.

  • Which format do you prefer reading in: paperback or ebook?

Hmm, that’s a tricky one! I never thought I would get into ebooks until I received an e-reader as a gift ten years ago. I was hooked! They are so easy to carry around, and you don’t need to find shelf space for all your books at home. On the other hand, there is something special about having a physical copy of a book, particularly if it’s one of your favourites. I guess that’s why there’s such a market for special editions these days.

  • Have you had any of your books made into audiobooks? If so, what are the challenges of producing an audiobook?

I have recently ventured into the wonderful world of audiobooks. An audiobook version of Dead Letters should go live around when this interview is published. The main challenge for me was finding a reader with the right voice. Most of Dead Letters is narrated in the first person, so the narrator’s voice had to match our protagonist’s. I was lucky enough to receive many excellent auditions, making choosing difficult. Ultimately, I went with a narrator who hit the beats as I had written them, and I’m very excited to hear the final version.

If you’re interested in reading more, I have blogged about my experiences commissioning an audiobook on my website www.pjmurphywriter.com

  • What is your next project?

I have a few ideas on the go, including a road trip and an unusual take on a spy novel. The one closest to finishing, though, is the sequel to my satirical novel, Troubleshot. This will be set in Geneva, where I now live, and should be amusing to anyone who’s lived or worked internationally. I’m also releasing one of my older novels, Yesterday’s Shadow, in February. It’s a coming-of-age tale about homelessness and the dark side of faith. Believe it or not, it also contains plenty of humour!

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Meet the Author:


P.J. Murphy writes novels that introduce unusual and humorous twists to classic genres. If you pick up one of his books, you’re in for an interesting read that never loses its sense of fun. As a writer, P.J. tries to stick to the adage ‘write what you know’, although with the addition, ‘just make sure you exaggerate and distort it beyond all recognition’. He is planning to write a novel about taking a road trip with a parrot. He has never owned a parrot.

connect with author: website facebook goodreads

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DEAD LETTERS by P.J. Murphy Spotlight Book Tour Giveaway

 

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BROADCAST BLUES by R.G. Belsky Banner

BROADCAST BLUES
by R.G. Belsky
January 1-26, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

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Synopsis:
Wendy Kyle took secrets to her grave— now, Clare Carlson is digging them up

New York City has no shortage of crime, making for a busy schedule for TV newswoman Clare Carlson. But not all crimes are created equal, and when an explosive planted in a car detonates and kills a woman, Clare knows it’ll be a huge story for her. But it’s not only about the story—Clare also wants justice for the victim, Wendy Kyle. Wendy had sparked controversy as an NYPD officer, ultimately getting kicked off the force after making sexual harassment allegations and getting into a physical altercation with her boss. Then, she started a private investigations business, catering to women who suspected their husbands of cheating. Undoubtedly, Wendy had angered many people with her work, so the list of her suspected murderers is seemingly endless. Despite the daunting investigation, Clare dives in headfirst. As she digs deeper, she attracts the attention of many rich and powerful people who will stop at nothing to keep her from breaking the truth about the death of Wendy Kyle—and exposing their personal secrets that Wendy took to her grave.

Praise for Broadcast Blues:

Broadcast Blues is a page-turning, meticulously plotted crime novel enriched by a terrific New York sense of place, Dick Belsky’s wicked sense of humor, and his insider’s view of the Machiavellian world that is broadcast news.” ~ Jonathan Kellerman, New York Times best-selling author

 

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery

Published by: Oceanview Publishing Publication Date: January 2, 2024 Number of Pages: 320 ISBN: 9781608095315 (ISBN10: 1608095312) Series: Clare Carlson Mystery Series, 6 | All of the novels in the Clare Carlson Mystery Series stand on their own and can be read in any order

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Oceanview Publishing

Enjoy this peek inside:
PROLOGUE
From the Diary of Wendy Kyle….
If you’re reading this, I’m already dead. How’s that for an attention-grabbing opening line? I know, I know…it’s a bit melodramatic. And I’m not normally the melodramatic type. Really. No, Wendy Kyle is the kind of woman who deals in facts for a living, the kind of woman who doesn’t let emotion cloud her judgment and – maybe most importantly of all – the kind of woman who never blindly puts her trust in anyone. Especially a man. Hey, I’m not some man-hating bitch or anything like that, no matter what you may have heard or think about me. I like men. I love men, or at least I’ve loved a few men in my life. It’s just that I don’t trust them anymore. So wouldn’t it be ironic – or maybe a little bit fitting, to look at it completely objectively – if trusting a man this one time was what wound up costing me my own life in the end. Here’s the bottom line for me: If I don’t succeed in what I’m about to do in the Ronald Bannister case, well…then it is important someone knows the truth about what happened to me. And that it was the lies – all of the damn lies men have told – that were the death of me.

—– The contents of this document were among evidence

seized by homicide detectives from the office of

Wendy Kyle Heartbreaker Investigations

218 West 42nd Street

New York City

This entry is listed as: POLICE EXHIBIT A

Opening Credits

THE RULES, ACCORDING TO CLARE

Nora O’Donnell is 50 years old. Samantha Guthrie 51. Hoda Kotb 58, Robin Roberts 62 and Gayle King 68. The point I’m trying to make here is that TV newscasters – specifically women TV newscasters – don’t have to be cute, perky young talking heads to succeed in the media world where I work. We’ve come a long way since the days when a respected newswoman like Jane Pauley was replaced by the younger Deborah Norville on the Today show because some network executive (a middle-aged man, of course!) decided Pauley was getting too old to appeal to a television audience. Or when an anchorwoman named Christine Craft lost her job at a station in Kansas City after a focus group determined she was “too old, too unattractive and not deferential to men.” She was 37. Well, 50 is the new 40 now. Or maybe even the new 30. And let’s get something straight right up front here. I’m not one of those women who normally gets stressed out over every birthday that passes by or every wrinkle on my face or every gray hair or two I spot in the mirror. That is not me. No way. I’m not hung up about age at all. But I am about to turn 50 this year. The big 5-0. The half-century mark. And the truth is I’m having a bit of trouble dealing with that… My name is Clare Carlson, and I’m the news director of Channel 10 News in New York City. I’m also an on-air reporter for our Channel 10 news show, and I’ve broken some pretty big exclusives in recent years that have gotten me a lot of attention and made me kind of a media star. But this whole business of turning 50 still seems odd to me. When I was in my 20s, I was a star reporter at a newspaper and won a Pulitzer Prize. In my 30s, after the newspaper went out of business, I switched to TV news at Channel 10. And in my 40s, I’ve been juggling two jobs: TV executive as the station’s news director and also as an on-air personality breaking big stories. Turning 30 and then 40 never really seemed like that big a deal for me. It was more fun than tragic. Look at me: I’m 40! But 50? I’m not so sure about that one. 50 is something completely different, at least the way I see it at the moment. I’m not sure where I go with my life after 50. It couldn’t be happening at a worse time for me either. Channel 10, the TV station where I work, is being sold to a new owner – and this has left everyone in our newsroom worried about what might happen next. My latest boss and I don’t get along, and I’m afraid she might be looking for a reason to fire me. My personal life situation is even worse. I’ve been married three times (all of them ending in divorce), and right now I’m not in any kind of a relationship. I have a daughter, but she didn’t even know I was her mother for the first 25 years or so of her life – so we don’t exactly have a traditional mother/daughter relationship. The only constant in my life – the one thing that I always turn to for comfort when my life is in turmoil – is the news. This newsroom at Channel 10 where I work is my true home. My sanctuary. And so each day I wrap it – along with all the people in it and the stories we cover – around me like a security blanket to protect myself from everything else that is going on around me. All I needed now was a big story to chase. The bigger the better. That’s what I was looking for right now. But as the old saying goes: Be careful what you wish for – because you just might get it. And that’s what happened to me with the Wendy Kyle murder…  

Part I

THE HONEY TRAP

CHAPTER 1

Susan Endicott, the executive producer of Channel 10 News, walked into my office and sat down on a chair in front of my desk. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Talking to you.” “I mean about tonight’s newscast.” “Oh, that.” “Don’t be impertinent with me, Carlson.” What I was actually doing at the moment was putting together one of those old David Letterman style Top 10 lists. I like to do that sometimes. My topic today was: TOP 10 THINGS AN ASPIRING WOMAN TV NEWSCASTER SHOULD NOT SAY DURING A JOB INTERVIEW. My list went like this. 10. What’s that red light on the camera for? 9. Yes, Mr. Lauer, I’d love to be your intern. 8. I sweat a lot on air. 7. I can name all the Presidents back to Obama. 6. If it helps, I’m willing to get pregnant as a cheap on-air ratings ploy. 5. Katie Couric? Who’s Katie Couric? 4. No makeup, please. I want to let my real beauty shine through. 3. My IQ is almost in three numbers. 2. Can I watch TikTok video during commercial breaks? And the Number One thing an aspiring woman TV newscaster should not say during a job interview… 1. I have a personal recommendation from Harvey Weinstein! I wondered if I should ask Susan Endicott if she had any suggestions for my Top 10 list. Probably not. She might call me impertinent again. “Do you have a lead story yet for the 6 p.m. show?” she asked now. “Well, yes and no.” “What does that mean?” “The lead story is about a controller’s audit raising new questions about the viability of the city’s budget goals.” “That’s not a lead story for us.” “Hence, my yes and no reply to your question.” “Do you have a plan for getting us a good story?” “I do.” “What is it?” “Hope some big news happens before we go on the air at 6.” “That’s your plan?” “Uh, huh. The news gods will give us something before deadline. They always do.” “The news gods?” “You have to always believe in the news gods, Endicott.” Looking out the window of my office, I could see people walking through the midtown streets of Manhattan below on a beautiful spring day. Many of them were coatless or in short sleeves. Spring was finally here in New York City after what seemed like an endless winter of snow and cold and bundling up every time you went out. But now it was spring. Yep, spring – time for hope and new beginnings. The sun shining brightly. Flowers blooming. Birds chirping. All that good stuff. In a few weeks New Yorkers would start streaming out of the city on their way to Long Island or the Jersey Shore or maybe Cape Cod. I thought about how nice it would be to be in a place like that right now. Or maybe on a boat sailing up the New England coast. Anywhere but sitting here at Channel 10 News with this woman. Except I knew that even if I did that, I’d probably wind up sooner or later sitting in another newsroom wherever I went talking about lead stories with some other person like Susan Endicott. Endicott and I had been at war ever since she came to Channel 10. That was after the firing – or, if you prefer, the forced resignation – of Jack Faron, the previous executive producer who had first hired me as a TV journalist from my newspaper career and had been my boss for most of my time here. Jack was a top-notch journalist, a good friend and a truly decent human being. Susan Endicott was none of those things. She was an ambitious career climber who had stepped over a lot of people in her efforts to score big ratings at the stations where she worked before. That’s what had landed her the Channel 10 job here in New York, and she was determined to keep her star rising no matter what it took for her to do that. She had no friends that I was aware of, no hobbies or interests, no outside life of any kind. She was completely focused on the job and on her career advancement. For whatever its worth, I didn’t like the way she looked either. She wasn’t fat or skinny, she wasn’t pretty or unattractive, she was just…well, plain. Like she didn’t care about her appearance. She wore drab clothes, hardy any jewelry, no makeup that I could see. It was like her appearance simply didn’t matter to her. Oh, and she wore her glasses pushed back on top of her head when she wasn’t using them. I disliked people who did that. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s the way I feel. It was the perfect final trait of Susan Endicott though. I detested everything about her. And, as you can see, she wasn’t too fond of me either. There were two things that had prevented her from getting rid of me so far. I’ve broken some exclusive stories that got us big ratings. She did like the fact that I was an on-air media star, even if she didn’t like me. So all I had to do was keep finding exclusives. Also, the owner of Channel 10, media mogul Brendan Kaiser, had backed me in any showdown with Endicott since she arrived here. Always good having the big boss on your side when you’re at odds with your immediate boss. But Kaiser was in the process of selling the station. We weren’t sure yet who the new owner would be. Maybe it would be some great journalist or wonderful human being that would care about more than profits. But people like that don’t generally buy big media properties like a TV station. So I was prepared for the worst once the new owner was in place. That meant I needed to keep on breaking big stories. And I hadn’t done that in a while. I needed to find a big story in a damn hurry. “You better come up with a good lead before we go on the air at 6 tonight,” Endicott said as she stood up and said over her shoulder as she started to leave my office. “Or?” I asked. “Or what?” “That sort of sounds like you were giving me an ultimatum. As in ‘or you’re suspended. Or you’re fired. Or your cafeteria privileges are suspended. Or you need to get a permission slip to go to the bathroom. Or…” Endicott turned around. She glared at me. Then she pushed her eyeglasses – which she’d been wearing – back on top of her head again. A nice touch. Perfect for the moment. “Keep digging that hole for yourself, Carlson,” she said to me. “It will make it so much easier when the time comes to get rid of you.” “You have a nice day too,” I said. As things turned out, it didn’t take very long to find a news lead for the show. After Endicott left, Maggie Lang – the assignment editor and my top assistant – burst in to tell me we had a big murder that had just happened. “Someone blew up a woman’s car!” she said excitedly. “On a busy street in Times Square. The victim’s name is Wendy Kyle, and she’s a former New York City cop and a controversial private investigator who’s been involved in a lot of high-profile divorce cases recently. Involving rich people, important people and catching them in sex scandals. Sounds like someone was out for revenge against her. Sex, money, power. This story has everything, Clare!” Yep, the news gods had saved us again. *** Excerpt from BROADCAST BLUES by R.G. Belsky. Copyright 2023 by R.G. Belsky. Reproduced with permission from R.G. Belsky. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author R.G. Belsky:

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RG Belsky

R.G. Belsky is an award-winning author of crime fiction and a journalist in New York City. His newest mystery, BROADCAST BLUES, was published on January 2 by Oceanview. It is the sixth in a series featuring Clare Carlson, the news director for a New York City TV station. The first book, Yesterday’s News, was named Best Mystery of 2018 at Deadly Ink. The second, Below the Fold, won the Foreward INDIES award for Best Mystery of 2019. Belsky has published 20 novels—all set in the New York city media world where he has had a long career as a top editor at the New York Post, New York Daily News, Star magazine and NBC News. He also writes thrillers under the name Dana Perry. And he is a contributing writer for The Big Thrill magazine and BookTrib.

Catch Up With RG Belsky: www.rgbelsky.com Goodreads BookBub – @dickbelsky Instagram – @dickbelsky Twitter/X – @DickBel Facebook – @RGBelsky

 

 

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The January Corpse by Neil Albert Banner

The January Corpse
by Neil Albert
January 15-26, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
 

Dave Garrett is a disbarred lawyer eking out a living in Philadelphia as a private eye. At noon on Friday, a law school classmate offers him what looks like a hopeless investigation. Seven years before, a man named Daniel Wilson disappeared. His car was found abandoned with bullet holes and blood, but no body. A hearing is scheduled for Monday on whether Wilson should be declared legally dead. The police have been stumped for seven years. Organized crime warned off the first investigator to look into the case. Over the course of the weekend, the case takes Dave from center city to the coal regions and back, where the story comes to what the critics called “a startling and satisfying conclusion.” Nominated as a Best First Novel by the Private Eye Writers of America when it first appeared in 1990 and the first of a series of twelve.

 
Praise for The January Corpse:

“Worthy of a Scott Turow . . . This exceptional first mystery is driven by a baffling plot and comes to a surprise ending that passes the Holmesian test.” ~ Publishers Weekly “Tantalizing twisted” ~ The New York Times Book Review “A first rate first novel.” ~ The Boston Globe

 

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Private Eye

Published by: Onyx Publication Date: First published January 1990 Number of Pages: 207 ISBN: 9798663201599 Series: Dave Garrett Mystery, #1

Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Enjoy this peek inside:
CHAPTER ONE
FRIDAY, 11:00 A.M.
I couldn’t stand the sight of him but I took his case anyway. I’d been sitting in the spectator’s section of a courtroom in the basement of the Court of Common Pleas of Philadelphia County. At night the room was used for criminal arraignments, and it showed. Everything in the room was dirty, even the air. I breathed in a mixture of grit, poverty and despair. The bare wooden benches were carved in complex, overlapping swirls of graffiti, initials, gang emblems, and phone numbers. Some people called it street art. I didn’t. To my left, fifteen feet off the ground, a clock was built into the wall. It was missing its hands and most of the brass numerals, and the few that were left were muddy brown. Not that I cared what time it was; as long as I sat there, waiting to testify, my meter was running. Today the room was being used by the Family Court for a custody case. This was the second day of trial, and the wife’s attorney was hoping to get me on the stand today. There’s no such thing as a custody case with class. The couple were both doctors, both well respected. Married ten years, two children, both girls, ages four and seven. They had separated two years ago. Each had a condo; his was just south of Society Hill in a newly gentrified neighborhood; hers was on Rittenhouse Square. They both had memberships at the usual country clubs, plus time-shares in Aspen and Jamaica. She drove a BMW and he drove a Benz. It had been amicable at first. Neither one was leaving for someone else; they just didn’t like being married to each other anymore. There was no one stirring it up. Most spouses need encouragement from a third party to get really nasty–a new girlfriend, a mother, a friend, or a lawyer. In the absence of someone to stir the pot, it was very civilized. For a while. Then, while working out a property settlement, her lawyer found that her husband had forgotten to disclose his half-interest in a fast-food franchise–a small matter of half a million dollars. In response, she dropped the blockbuster; she moved to terminate his visitation rights because she claimed he was sexually abusing the seven-year-old. He denied it and countered with a suit for attorney’s fees and punitive damages. The case had started yesterday, was being tried again today, and would probably go on for a good chunk of the next two weeks. I had very little to say, but the wife’s lawyer wanted me to testify anyway. In a close case, almost anything might make a difference. I’d followed the husband for a week, and the most interesting thing I’d found was that he read Penthouse. Plus, as I was sure his lawyer would point out on cross, Time, Sports Illustrated, Business Week, and The New England Journal of Medicine. The wife’s attorney, sitting at counsel table, turned to me, pointed to his watch, and shook his head. The cross examination of the wife’s child psychologist was hopelessly bogged down on the question of her credentials, and they weren’t going to reach me that day. The case wasn’t on again until the following Wednesday; I was free till then. I nodded, pointed to my own watch to indicate that my meter was off and headed for the door. My overcoat was already over my arm; no one familiar with the Court of Common Pleas of Philadelphia County leaves their property unattended. There used to be a sign outside the Public Defender’s office: Watch your hat, ass, and overcoat, till somebody stole it. The corridor was as filthy as the courtroom, but at least there was light. And people–lots of them. The young and shabbily dressed ones were there for misdemeanor criminal or for family law cases. The felony defendants were usually older and better dressed; they’d learned the hard way that making a good impression just might help. The best dressed of all–except for the big-time drug defendants, who put everyone to shame–were the civil trial attorneys. There was big money in personal injury work and large commercial claims, and a lot of it was worn on their backs. My own suit, when it was new, had looked like theirs; now it was dated and worn, and my tie had a small stain. I was dressed well enough for what I did now. I was nearly to the exit, feeling blasts of cold air as people went in and out, when I heard him call my name. The voice was raspy and nasal. I turned; it was Mark Louchs, a classmate from law school. He practiced with a small firm out in the suburbs. His hairline had receded since I’d last seen him, and he was wearing new, thicker glasses. His skin was red, probably from a recent Caribbean vacation. He smiled, shook my hand, and said he was so glad to see me. It was all too fast and too hearty, and I wondered what he wanted from me. “Hello, Mark. Going well for you?” “God, hearings coming out my ears. Clients calling all hours. Can’t get away from it. My accountant–I’m busy as hell–” He stopped himself. “Yeah. Fine. Look, you know how bad I feel about what happened to you. ” His voice trailed off. He’d been a jerk when I needed his help and we both knew it. I said nothing, letting the awkward silence go on. Making him uncomfortable was petty, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying it. When he was nervous, I noticed, his smile was a little lopsided. When he was certain that I was going to leave him hanging, he went on. “Look, I hear you’re doing investigations now.” “It’s the closest thing I can do to keep my hand in. And I sure wasn’t going to hang around as somebody’s research assistant.” “I tried to reach you first thing this morning. They said you were out. ” I hadn’t had time to check my messages, but I just stayed quiet. I liked leaving him under the impression that I was in no hurry to talk to him. Partly because it might give me an advantage in whatever he wanted with me, and partly because it was true. “Listen, Dave, I’d like you to do me a favor. Are you set up to handle a rush job?” I do plenty of favors, but not in business. And not for someone who didn’t respond to my request for a letter of support when I’d gone before the Disciplinary Board with my license on the line. I kept my voice disinterested and cautious. “How much a favor, and how much a rush?” “I need you to do an investigation for a case to be heard this coming Monday at one thirty.” I carefully gave a low whistle, watching for his reaction. “That gives me just the rest of today and the weekend. Pretty short notice.” “If you can do it, the fee should be no problem. I’m sure we can agree on an acceptable rate. ” I looked at his suit and at my own. I knew the money would never wind up in a suit. I had too many other bills. But it gave me something to focus on. “Let’s go somewhere and hear about it.” We put on our overcoats, cut through the perpetual construction around City Hall and wound up at a small bar near Sansom. He found a quiet corner booth and ordered two coffees. Whatever serious lawyers do after five, they don’t drink during the day. “Ever do a presumption of death hearing!” he asked. “Fifteen years ago, fresh out of law school, I did a memo for a partner.” “Familiar with the law?” “Unless it’s changed. If all you have is a disappearance, no body or other direct proof of death, the passage of seven years without word gives rise to a presumption of death. If the person were alive, the law assumes that someone would have heard from them.” “I represent the survivors of a man who disappeared under circumstances strongly suggestive of his death. His name is—was–Daniel Wilson. We filed an action to have him declared dead. The hearing is Monday afternoon at one-thirty in Norristown. The insurance company is fighting tooth and nail.” “What carrier? I do some work for USF&G and for Travelers. I’d hate to get on their bad side. ” “Neither of them. Some one-lung life insurance outfit out of Iowa. Reliant Fidelity Mutual, or something like that.” “Let’s hear some more. ” “He lived in Philly and had offices in the city and in Norristown. I figured that his office in Norristown gave me enough to get venue in Montgomery County. I don’t come into Philadelphia for trials if I can avoid it. The insurance company won’t offer a nickel, but they don’t care if it’s in Philadelphia or Montgomery County. ” “What kind of office?” “A law office. Never heard of the guy before this case, though. I made a couple calls to friends from law school, but neither of them knew him. ” “Lawyers aren’t disappearing kinds of people. We’re more like barnacles.” “Wait till you hear about the disappearance. Just after New Year’s, seven years ago. His sister was in town from LA; they planned to get together. They’re in separate cars, out in the country. Powell Township, Berks County. She finds his car off the road full of bullet holes. Plenty of blood, but no body. Police can’t turn up shit. He was never heard from again.” It was short notice, but I had no plans for the weekend. It sounded like a break from skip traces and catching thieving employees. And it paid. “The case has been kicking around for months. You didn’t decide to hire an investigator this morning.” Even in the dimness I could tell he was flustered. “Yeah, you’re right; you’re getting sloppy seconds. The Shreiner Agency was handling it till yesterday. ” I just sat there until he decided to continue. “They were doing all the usual interviews, credit checks, asset checks. They hand-delivered back the file and refunded our retainer. And a letter saying they wouldn’t be able to help any further. ” “Someone warned them off. ” “There could be other reasons.” “This thing smells to me like organized crime. That’s out of my league. ” “Look, nobody’s asking you to find who killed him, even if he’s dead. We just need to say that there’s no evidence he’s alive. That ought to be easy enough.” He didn’t say the words ‘even for you’, but I heard them. “Tell that to the Shreiner Agency. ” He finished his coffee. He was anxious to get help, but I was clearly hitting a nerve. “Yes or no?” I normally worked for a flat fifty dollars an hour. Right then, considering who I’d be working for and whatever had happened to the Shreiner Agency, I wasn’t so sure if I wanted it. “I charge my attorney’s rate–one hundred fifty per hour; two hundred for work outside of business hours, half rate for travel time, plus all expenses.” “Think you can come up with something for that kind of money?” “Haven’t the slightest idea. You know how it is. I work by time, not results.” “That’s a lot of money.” “And it’s quarter to twelve on Friday.” He gave me the kind of look I didn’t normally associate with being hired–it was closer to the expression you get when you steal somebody’s parking place. But he grunted something that sounded like “okay” and gave me his business card with his home number on it. And the Shreiner file, too–there was so little of it, he was carrying it in his breast pocket. “I’ll look this over and do what I can this afternoon. When can I talk to the sister?” I asked. “Give me your card. She’s in the area. I’ll have her at your office at nine tomorrow morning. ” “Make it seven; I don’t want to lose any time on Saturday. It’s tougher to reach people on Sunday.” “Okay, but keep me posted, will you? Remember that you’re working under the supervision of an attorney. ” “Right. ” I wanted to tell him that I was working under the supervision of an asshole, but I let it pass. Philadelphia has mild winters, but early January is no time to linger outside. I needed a quiet place to read. I went to Suburban Station and found an empty bench. The Shreiner Agency was like the Army: bloated, bureaucratic, and sluggish, and most of its best people moved along after a few years. Yet they were careful and scrupulously honest. That counted for a lot in my business. The file was only about twenty pages, and most of it was negative information. Daniel Wilson hadn’t voted in his home district since the time of his disappearance. Neither had he started any lawsuits, mortgaged any real estate, filed for bankruptcy, used his credit cards, joined the armed forces, opened any bank accounts, or taken out a marriage license. His driver’s license had expired a year after he disappeared and had never been renewed. At the time of his disappearance he had no points on his license and no criminal record. Since then, there had been no activity in his checking or savings accounts; the balances in each were a few hundred dollars. No income taxes or property taxes had been paid in seven years. None of this distinguished Daniel Wilson from somewhere between ten and fifteen percent of the population. I would need a lot more than this to convince a judge he was dead. Toward the bottom of the pile I found an interim report by “JBF,” who I knew to be Jonathan Franklin, an investigator I’d worked with before. According to the report, at the time of his disappearance Wilson was thirty years old, short to medium height, wiry build, brown hair and eyes. Paper-clipped to the corner of the first page was a black-and-white wallet-size formal photo of Wilson in a suit and tie. From the date on the back, it was probably his law school graduation portrait. Assuming he graduated at twenty-five, the picture was twelve years old. I had visions of showing it and asking people if they’d ever seen an average-looking guy with glasses and brown hair before. It was a pleasant-looking face; maybe a little bland, but presentable. His cheeks were smooth and pink, and he looked closer to twenty than twenty-five. His glasses weren’t the wire-rimmed ones that were fashionable when I was in college, or the high-tech rimless models the yuppies wore now, but good old-fashioned ones, horn rimmed, with a heavy frame. He had the kind of face clients would trust. The family background was minimal. Wilson’s father had died when he was a child; his mother was still living and worked cleaning offices in Center City. She lived in the Overbrook section of west Philadelphia. There was one sibling, a sister, Lisa, two years older; a former nurse who now lived in a small town upstate. She’d been living in LA, if I remembered Louchs correctly. I figured her for a loyal daughter who’d moved back east to be close to their mother after Daniel’s death, or disappearance, or whatever it was. Neither Lisa nor Daniel had any children. Neither had ever been married. Franklin had come up with some more about Wilson’s grade and high school education. Wilson was consistently a superior student; not brilliant, but always near the top of the class. He was seldom absent, hardly ever late with work assignments, and never a discipline problem. Several of his high school classmates had been contacted; they remembered him as serious and hardworking. He played no sports but was active with the school literary magazine and the newspaper: He had a few dates, but no one remembered a steady girlfriend. Except to tell me that he’d attended Gettysburg College, was secretary of the Photography Club, and obtained a degree in history, the college section was a blank. I wasn’t surprised; in high school everybody knows everybody. But people are too busy in college to know more than a couple of people well. Investigating backgrounds at the college level is usually helpful only if the subject was very well known or if the school was very small. I was reading with only half my attention by then; I was trying to imagine what kind of man was behind that picture. And what was the judge going to make of him. I hoped he wouldn’t decide that Wilson was the kind of loner who would pull up stakes and disappear without a word to anybody. The next section was hardly more help. After college, three years at Temple Law School, graduating about one-third of the way from the top. He passed the bar on the first try and set up practice in Center City with a classmate, Leo Strasnick. When Wilson disappeared five years later, the partnership already had three associates, with offices in Philadelphia and Norristown. Nice growth. I rubbed my eyes and looked at my watch. It was nearly one, and this was the only business day before the day of the hearing. The rest of the file would have to wait. One of the advantages of Suburban Station was plenty of phone booths. My investigation got off on the right foot. Not only was Leo Strasnick available, he agreed to see me at four that afternoon. His office was only a few blocks from the station. I tried Shreiner’s next. “Shreiner Security Agency. How may we help you?” She sounded like a recording of herself. “Mr. Franklin, please.” “And whom may I say is calling? “She was good. If my gross ever broke into seven figures, I promised myself I would get a receptionist who talked that well. And to take lessons from her. “Just say I’m calling regarding the Wilson case. ” I was curious to see if that would be enough to get me through. “Yeah, this is Jon Franklin,” was all he said, but it was enough. Something was bothering him. His words were unnaturally clipped, and his voice was too loud and too fast. “Hello, Jon, this is Dave Garrett–” “You said you were calling about Wilson?” “Yeah, right,” I said as casually as I could “Remember me, Jon? We worked together on those tools disappearing out of Sun Shipbuilding? I was–” “I remember. ” Then his voice got softer. “Dave, what do you have to do with this? We’re not in the Wilson case.” “I’ve just taken it over. ” There was silence on the other end. “I’ve read your report and I assume there’s more than you had time to put in writing. ” More silence. “Look, Jon, the case is coming up Monday, for Christ’s sake. Cut me some slack.” “You want some advice? Don’t take the case.” “The lawyer guaranteed payment,” I said, being deliberately stupid. I had a lot of practice at that. “No amount of money is worth it. ” I’d been expecting him to say that, but he was at the biggest agency in the state a fifteen-year veteran of the Philadelphia police. “Can we get together somewhere?” “I’ve told you all you need to know already,” he said, and hung up.” *** Excerpt from The January Corpse by Neil Albert. Copyright 1990 by Neil Albert. Reproduced with permission from Neil Albert. All rights reserved.

 

 

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MY REVIEW

Dave Garrett was disbarred. He couldn’t ever practice law again. He found a new niche as a private investigator and longed for a case he could really sink his teeth into. And he found it in a cold case. The mystery of what happened to another lawyer. He mysteriously disappeared seven years ago and on Monday will be declared legally dead. It’s Friday and Dave has his work cut out for him. He  wanted a serious case and he got it. Time is running out and the race is on to discover what happened to the missing lawyer while staying one step ahead of those who don’t want their secrets revealed…. at any cost.

This was quite the mystery. A cold case. A disbarred lawyer. And a whole lot of danger and events I didn’t see coming. I zipped through it. The main character, Dave Garrett was definitely the selling point in this book. He grew on me quickly. I liked his directness and his stubbornness. And I have a thing for cold cases. I like reading how the clues get sorted out and what truly happened brought to light. And the ending was a good one too. I’ve got my eye on this series now and am curious what comes next.

4 STARS

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About Author Neil Albert:

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Neil Albert

Neil Albert is a trial lawyer in Lancaster, Pennsylvania and this book is based on a real presumption of death hearing. He has completed nine of the projected twelve books in the series and hopes to finish with December within the next two years. His interest in writing mysteries was kindled by reading Ross Macdonald and Neil operates a blog with an in-depth analysis of each of Macdonald’s books, In his younger years he was an avid fox hunter. His best memory is that he hunted for fifteen years and was the only member not be to seriously injured at least once.

Catch Up With Neil Albert: www.neilalbertauthor.com Goodreads

 

 

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Welcome to The Friday 56!

 

This is a really fun meme!

The only rules are to grab a book (any book), turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader and find a sentence or a few (no spoilers) that grabs you and post it.

Then go over to Anne at My Head is Full of Books and leave your link so we can visit your 56!

My 56 for this week is from

The January Corpse

  by Neil Albert

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Genre: Mystery / Thriller

From page 56 in the paperback.

“Come with us, bud” said the older one.

“I don’t think so.”

“Nobody asked you. “

“Oh?”

“You can go in one piece, or a couple.”

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Synopsis

Dave Garrett is a disbarred lawyer eking out a living in Philadelphia as a private eye. At noon on Friday a law school classmate offers him what looks like a hopeless investigation. Seven years before, a man named Dan Wilson disappeared. His car was found abandoned with with bullet holes and blood, but no body. A hearing is scheduled for Monday on whether Wilson should be declared legally dead. The police have been stumped for seven years. Organized crime warned off the first investigator to look into the case. Over the course of the weekend, the case takes Dave from Center City to the coal regions and back, where the story comes to what the critics called “a startling and satisfying conclusion.”

Amazon

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew!

You can find a list of my reviews HERE.

For a list of free eBooks go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE

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If you’re like me, you have a pile of books beckoning to you from your lists. Carole hosts this fun feature where you can share some of those older books and perhaps nudge you to finally read them. If you want to join in on the fun, head over to Carole’s Random Life In Books and leave a link to your post.
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Burning Ridge

A Timber Creek K-9 Mystery #4

by Margaret Mizushima

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Genre: Mystery / Suspense

Synopsis

Featuring Mattie Cobb and her K-9 partner Robo, Burning Ridge by critically acclaimed author Margaret Mizushima is just the treat for fans of Alex Kava.

On a rugged Colorado mountain ridge, Mattie Cobb and her police dog partner Robo make a grisly discovery—and become the targets of a ruthless killer.

Colorado’s Redstone Ridge is a place of extraordinary beauty, but this rugged mountain wilderness harbors a horrifying secret. When a charred body is discovered in a shallow grave on the ridge, officer Mattie Cobb and her K-9 partner Robo are called in to spearhead the investigation. But this is no ordinary crime—and it soon becomes clear that Mattie has a close personal connection to the dead man.

Joined by local veterinarian Cole Walker, the pair scours the mountaintop for evidence and makes another gruesome discovery: the skeletonized remains of two adults and a child. And then, the unthinkable happens. Could Mattie become the next victim in the murderer’s deadly game?

A deranged killer torments Mattie with a litany of dark secrets that call into question her very identity. As a towering blaze races across the ridge, Cole and Robo search desperately for her—but time is running out in Margaret Mizushima’s fourth spine-tingling Timber Creek K-9 mystery, Burning Ridge.

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I added this back in September 2018.

I’ve enjoyed another book in this series and need to get caught up.

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You can find a list of my reviews HERE.

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The Pompadour Necklace and Theft in Sleepy Hollow
(Sophie’s Adventures)

by Nupur Tustin

 


The Pompadour Necklace: Sophie’s Adventures
Mystery
1st in Series
Setting – London, England
Foiled Plots Press (March 14, 2023)
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 60 pages
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8867178499
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0BXVJD465

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The necklace had once belonged to Madame Pompadour—mistress of the French King Louis XV.

Now it’s gone. Stolen by a clever conman. And it will take every ounce of determination and ingenuity a young woman possesses to recover it.

But can a mere girl from Calais outwit a practiced fraudster?

About Theft in Sleepy Hollow

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Theft in Sleepy Hollow (Sophie’s Adventures)
Mystery
2nd in Series
Setting – New York
Foiled Plots Press (November 25, 2023)
Digital Print length ‏ : ‎ 101 pages
ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CN2QPGGH

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In Sleepy Hollow, a Monet is in danger of being spirited away. . .

But undercover art sleuth Sophie Fisher—also known as Jeanne Sophie Poisson—
is on the trail of the brazen art thief.

From a Hudson River Cruise to Cold Spring to a spooky lantern-light tour of Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, Sophie will do what it takes to capture the thief . . .

And prevent him from spiriting away a valuable work of art.

About Nupur Tustin

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A former journalist, Nupur Tustin is the author of the Joseph Haydn Mysteries set in Austria, the Celine Skye Psychic Mysteries, based on the infamous Gardner Museum theft, and the author of Sophie’s Adventures, about a French James Bond who goes on undercover missions to recover stolen art and artifacts.

Author Links: Website / Blog / Shop / Facebook / Goodreads / BookBub

Purchase Links – The Pompadour Necklace 

Amazon   B&N  Kobo    Apple

Purchase Links – Theft in Sleepy Hollow
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The Legacy by C. L. Tolbert Banner

The Legacy
A Thornton Mystery
by C. L. Tolbert
November 20 – December 15, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:

A quiet tree-lined street in New Orleans erupts in panic when the body of Sally Wilcox is discovered by her landlord. Sally had been stabbed, and she was clutching a kitchen knife in her hand at the time of her death. Later, police discover evidence at the scene which implicates Sally’s son, Jeremy, in her murder. He was arrested the next day. Law school professor Emma Thornton is convinced by a friend to take Jeremy’s case. She begins her investigation into Jeremy and his family, and the facts surrounding the night of the murder. Layer after layer of family secrets slowly reveal themselves, as the numbers of murders and kidnappings multiply.

Holding the key to the killer’s trail and the case’s final resolution, Emma’s success depends on whether she can maintain control over her own reckless impulses.

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MY REVIEW

It’s 1997 and Sally is glad to finally be home. She settles into her favorite chair, her cat, Charlie, curling up on her lap. Sleep claims her. Something wakes her. Maybe the static from the TV. Or is someone in her house? She’s discovered on the floor. Stabbed to death. And the police already have a suspect. Her son, Jeremy.

I liked Emma. She’s a law school professor with loads of curiosity. Maybe too much. She comes across as impulsive and I got curious about her age. Went back through the pages but didn’t find a mention of it. I figured late 20s or early 30s as she’s a professor at a law school. She takes Jeremy’s case and begins digging into his life. What she discovers is a confusing bunch of leads. Compounded by the fact Jeremy is a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic who self medicates. She doesn’t let that stop her and as she peels back the layers of information, she’s painting a target on her own back. And the killer is one sick puppy. Body count two. Kidnap victims two. Who’s next? Emma?

I enjoyed the feeling of nostalgia I got right from the beginning. The TV used to go off the air at midnight and all there would be was static. Remember those days?

And I also enjoyed the deftness and compassion Emma showed when dealing with Jeremy’s illness and confinement. Auditory and visual hallucinations make him a danger to himself and others when he’s scared and confused. He needs to be isolated, protected. Not thrown into the general population.

There’s that saying, “Oh, what a tangled web we weave.” It sure applies in this mystery. Or perhaps I should say mysteries.  Secrets galore and lots of bread crumbs. It was also fascinating to read about how Emma juggled her professional and personal life. No mean feat there.

The author did an excellent job of ‘showing’ me Emma’s steps through the investigation. I thought I had the killer figured out. Nope. Great ending even though I was wrong.

5 STARS

 

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Praise for The Legacy:

“Fearless, relentless, compassionate, and driven by an unyielding sense of justice, law professor Emma Thornton battles mounting evidence in a race to save a mentally ill young man from a presumption of guilt in the gruesome murders of his parents.” ~ Roger Johns, a Georgia Author of the Year and author of the Wallace Hartman Mysteries

“Fearless Law Professor Emma Thompson returns to defend a young man with schizophrenia accused of murdering his mother. Faced with a second murder, an unscrupulous prosecutor, a family with mental health issues, a pusher of pain meds, and a Gitanes-smoking stalker, Emma finds her marriage in jeopardy and her life on the line. Author C. L. Tolbert proves the Big Easy has never been easy, especially for a fighter like Emma whom I would follow anywhere.” ~ Valerie J. Brooks, award-winning author of the Angeline Porter Trilogy

“Unwavering in her conviction, law professor Emma Thornton must navigate a labyrinth of lies and deception to arrive at the truth and vindicate a disturbed young man wrongly accused of murder. Not only a suspenseful story, The Legacy represents the triumph of the human spirit to persevere in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.” ~ Lawrence Kelter, International bestselling author of the Stephanie Chalice Mystery Series

 

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Thriller

Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: November 2023 Number of Pages: 260 ISBN: 9781685124267 Series: A Thornton Mystery, #4

Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
March 19, 1997
Sally Wilcox wiped her hands on the dish cloth and folded it neatly before placing it on the kitchen counter. It had been a long day at the shop. Two funerals down and they had already started preparing for a weekend wedding. She loved working with flowers, but the job triggered her sciatica. She could hardly stand by the end of the day. She was glad to be home. She hobbled to the TV room, and sat down on the couch, the pain in her body immediately eased by the down-filled cushions. She bumped into the table next to the couch and knocked over her favorite photograph of her kids, Jeremy and Becky. She placed the frame back on the table and stared at it for several seconds. She missed them so much. The cat curled into a circle on her lap as she propped her legs up on a fluffy ottoman. Comforted by her surroundings, she dozed off almost immediately. Three hours later she was awakened by the sound of static from her television. Channel Six had signed off for the night and refrains from the national anthem had just begun. An American flag fluttered across the television screen. It was just past midnight. She moved the cat from her lap, turned off the television and all the downstairs lights, and began making her way up the stairs, toward her bedroom. She stopped when she heard something that sounded like a restrained step. The cat’s ears twitched in the direction of the noise. Could someone, a stealthy burglar or worse, be creeping around the house? She almost laughed out loud, amused by her own foolishness. She was such a worrier. Of course, it had to be Charlie the parrot ruffling his feathers. She couldn’t remember if she draped the cloth over his seven-foot-tall cage. Still, she waited, and listened, not moving for several seconds. Then she froze as she heard a thump. She glanced out of a nearby window and could see wind blowing in the trees. Thinking that a branch must have bumped against the roof, she stood on the stairs for a few more seconds. Just to be sure. Hearing nothing, and convinced everything was okay, she continued up the stairs. Six a.m. came early. In her bedroom, she changed into her favorite nightgown, the silk one that felt like butter on her skin, cleaned her face, and flossed and brushed her teeth. No matter how exhausted she was, she always completed her nightly routine. Her mother had insisted on it when she was young and still at home, pointing to an aunt’s ravaged face as an example of what could happen if she didn’t comply. The practice had become her only indulgence. The cat had already curled up on top of the coverlet when Sally pulled back the sheets. Then she heard another sound. A muffled bump. She grabbed a robe and stepped into the upstairs hallway. The staircase and the light switch were only a few feet from her bedroom door. She found the switch and flipped the toggle up, but nothing happened. “What the…,” she whispered. The cat rubbed up against Sally’s legs, and she jumped. Then she heard another sound, and glanced out of the window at the end of the hall. The trees were still blowing fiercely. She tip-toed down the first two steps and peered over the banister, unable to see anything in the dark. She continued down the staircase, stopping every few feet to listen. When she was at the second step from the bottom she stopped. “Hello? Is anyone there?” Her voice quavered. “Youuu Whooo!” Charlie was awake now. She still couldn’t see anything but didn’t hear any unexpected sounds in the house. She shook her head, embarrassed by her over-reaction. The sounds had to be from Charlie, or maybe it was the wind in the trees. But just to be safe, she fled to the kitchen, feeling her way in the dark, and grabbed a knife from the block on the counter. Then she stopped, making certain all was well, and turned to retrace her steps back to her bedroom. Seconds later she felt a sharp punch in her stomach. She swung the knife she clutched in her hand, wildly stabbing into space until she felt a resistance. She’d nicked something. She turned, and raised her hand, stabbing blindly, then felt another punch in her stomach, and one in her chest. Then another and another. A warm liquid flowed down her legs. Her hand flew to a spot on her chest where she felt piercing pain and she realized that blood was pouring from her body. Something had happened. Someone was in front of her. She could sense their presence. Hear their breathing. She’d been stabbed. Her robe was wet, and blood was beginning to drip onto the floor. She felt dizzy. Her legs were on fire, as if a thousand needles had been jabbed into her shins. Then her legs started to shake. She collapsed, falling to the ground on her knees. Then a swift rush of air. She wasn’t certain what it was until it was too late. She saw the knife this time. And a dark figure. Charlie squawked, “Youu whooo!” The last thing she felt was a crushing pain in her chest. Her heart, already broken, had stopped. *** Excerpt from THE LEGACY by C.L. Tolbert. Copyright 2023 by C.L. Tolbert. Reproduced with permission from C.L. Tolbert. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Cynthia Tolbert:

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C.L. Tolbert

Licensed in Georgia, Louisiana, and Mississippi, Cynthia Tolbert retired after thirty-five years of practicing law and began writing full time. After winning the Georgia State Bar Fiction Writing Contest, she developed the winning short story into the first novel in the Thornton Mystery Series, OUT FROM SILENCE, published in 2019. Two additional mysteries in the series have also been published, THE REDEMPTION, in 2021, and SANCTUARY, published in 2022. The fourth book in the series, THE LEGACY, will be published in November of 2023. Cynthia taught at Loyola Law School for several years where she directed a homeless clinic, and worked with third year law students in actual cases. All of these experiences have informed her fiction. She is an avid reader, a mother of two, and a grandmother to three beautiful girls. She lives in Austin, TX with her husband and schnauzer, Yoda.

Catch Up With C.L. Tolbert: www.CLTolbert.com Goodreads Instagram – @cltolbertwrites Twitter/X – @cltolbertwrites Facebook – @cltolbertwriter

 

 

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