Category: Mystery

Woman’s Fiction, Cozy Mystery –  Marybeth, Hollister and Jane

Woman’s Fiction, Cozy Mystery – Marybeth, Hollister and Jane

 

Woman’s Fiction, Cozy Mystery

Date Published: 9/28/20

 

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Some secrets draw people closer………after they tear them apart.

Marybeth and Hollister moved to rural New York to escape—both the city life and a checkered past. Their lives were unassuming, until they bought a grandfather clock. They just wanted something to fill the space under their stairs, but they got much more than they bargained for. What secrets could the clock possibly hold?

Jane was sent to Callicoon to find the Eagle diamond, which was stolen from the Museum of Natural History in the ‘60s and never recovered. Convinced she won’t find what she’s looking for, she grudgingly takes the assignment. When she arrives, things aren’t what they seem and Jane finds more than she ever expected.

Excerpt
    Brenda Loring was far too small for the overstuffed capacious couch. She appeared uncomfortably absorbed by the cushions, hardly consoled. At first glance, she looked swallowed by the plush off-white arms. It could be assumed that her body had found a semblance of solace, but the truth was, there really weren’t any sacred places to turn for comfort; the fluffed-up cotton squares were far too affectionate and they consumed her behind their good intentions, providing only a pretense of succor.
     Brenda sat up straight and reached for her glass; next was the cigarette. Comfort was better found in a nicotine binge and a scotch devoid of ice or water.
     Brock was still not sure if he should believe her, even though she’d been insisting for months. “I’m not hallucinating,” she kept repeating. “I know what the hell I’m talking about. It’s all going to hell.”
     His thoughts raced ahead as he watched her light the tip of her cigarette with a lit butt from an old dish with more ash than a crematory.
     Brenda was birdlike but hardly unattractive, just sticky and twiggy, unlike his wife, who was a full hug, an eye level kiss. Brenda took a deep drag and looked at him through smoke.
     “What a fuck,” she said. “Both of them. They are both fucks. I’m telling you, Devon has bought Glen off, paid him well to screw us over, though I don’t know why he would, disloyal asshole.”
     He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s hard to believe, can’t wrap my head around it, that’s all.”
     Brenda leaned forward and crossed her tiny legs, shapely but thin. Her fingers seemed long as arms, her elbows stuck out like wayward bones.
     “Peter has lost control of his people. He’s too old to run the organization. That’s what I think. I have my spies, you know, people who hate Devon and will tell me the truth when I ask for it. You think he’s above screwing his brother?
     “Why let the organization go to shit now?”
     “Why not now? I heard Peter was sick; maybe that’s why he’s losing control. Maybe it’s serious. Maybe Devon doesn’t want anything going to Peter’s idiot wife if he should die. Imagine Delilah in charge of the LVAJ? Ha!”
     “I don’t think Delilah would want it. Advising Peter in business is not quite the same as running the entire organization. That’s a mammoth job.”
     “Ha!” Brenda took a sip of scotch. “I wouldn’t underestimate her, Brock. She has a degree in art, after all. You sound like a misogynist, just because she’s blonde and beautiful. She’s far from stupid.”
     “I didn’t say she was stupid.”
     “Didn’t say she wasn’t either.”
     “Look, you think we ought to go to Peter with this?” he asked, “he should know about our suspicions.”
     “No, I don’t think we should go to Peter.”
     Brock took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So, you’re saying the Prince was a phony, but what if he wasn’t?”
     Brenda threw back her head and laughed loudly. He noticed that her hair didn’t move, so stiff it seemed to stand at attention. Her hair is obedient, he thought.
     “Oh, come on,” she said. “The whole thing was a scam. I’ll bet my ass that the Yellow Diamond is sitting behind some asshole’s velvet pull in Saudi Arabia and nowhere near that little turd that calls himself ‘Prince Vizueta.’ She drew out the syllables of the prince’s name and made a face. “Prince of bullshit.”
     Brock thought for a moment. “So, if the Yellow Diamond buy was a scam, what’s next?”
     Brenda did all three things at once. It was quite impressive. She laughed and took a drag off her cigarette as she put the scotch glass to her lips and drank.
     “I wish I knew.”
     Brock stood up and looked at his watch. He hadn’t called home. It was after ten p.m. in San Francisco. Jane would be angry. One should make a point of calling home when one is suspected of having an affair.
     “It’s getting late,” he said.
     He’d spent months on the phone with Brenda, ever since she first uncovered what she believed to be a conspiracy. He wasn’t quite so sure. He thought she was a bit hysterical over nothing. Besides, he was cautious. He liked absolute proof. But with their constant phone calls, he couldn’t blame his wife for suspecting him of infidelity. Once Brenda got to Philadelphia for the Yellow Diamond Buy, she called him several times a day so she could give him the scenario of treachery; so she could share her anxiety as she nervously sucked on her cigarette and drew him into her fears like the nightmare fairy.
     “Why don’t we wait for Devon’s next move, see where he’s going with this,” Brock said, putting Jane out of his thoughts, he’d deal with it in his own way. “No sense making a big deal out of something that could just be gossip,” he added. “Or paranoia.” He stared at her.
     “Well, it’s been months since this phony prince put out a bid on the Yellow Diamond and went back to his phony country with it.”
     “Right, and there hasn’t been anything since, no bids out on any precious stones at all.”
     “But it doesn’t mean there won’t be,” she said. “I sense it in my bones that we’re being screwed with.”
     “Look, if someone out there really has the Yellow Diamond other than the Prince, wouldn’t they have contacted Peter and told him he was being made an ass of, that you can’t purchase what someone else owns?”
     “Why should they say anything? Anonymity is what matters to us, not friendship, you know that.”
     Brenda stood up tall but barely reached his chest. She went to a wall of windows and looked out from her thirty-second-floor Manhattan condominium. The night was dark, but the city shone against the sky. It seemed like a false movie set, almost too perfect to be real.
     She turned to face him. “Let’s confront Glen, find out what the hell is going on. If he knows we’re aware he’s a turncoat, he’ll tell us everything. When it comes right down to it, he’s a wimp and he’ll play both sides. Glen has no loyalty. “
     Brock raised his eyebrow. “And you think Glen is going to admit he has his own agenda?” he said. “Just like that?”
     “Where is it going to leave us if Devon takes over the American operation?”
     “Under Devon’s employ, that’s where.” He realized Brenda was being too emotional; one of them had to be rational.
     Brenda sat and puffed; taking deep drags and pushed the smoke out through her teeth.
     Brock paced a bit around the room. “So, according to you, Devon paid the commission out of his own pocket? To make it all look legit?”
     Brenda moved her head, barely a nod but he knew that’s what she’d intended.
     “Right. He has a plan,” she said. “I just don’t know what it is. I mean, a phony bid? A phony buy? I don’t get it.”
     Brock sat on the arm of a chair so thin it hurt his backside and he moved quickly onto the couch with false substance.
     “It has to have something to do with discrediting Peter, that’s what I would guess. What else could it be? Devon has finally gotten sick and tired of sharing his customers.”
     Brenda squashed her cigarette out. He was relived she didn’t relight. His throat felt raw from her smoke, and the nicotine stunk.
     “Devon has thought this whole thing up, a fake prince, a ludicrous bid ─ and he sent it all to Peter on a silver platter. I watched Glen go through the motions of recovering the Yellow Diamond; it was clear bullshit.” She looked back out at her seven-million-dollar view. “I never saw the diamond with my own eyes; I never watched any money exchange hands. He had me answering the phone and reporting back to Peter all day while he said he was doing business.”
     Brock wet his lips with his tongue. “Why would Devon approach Glen and not me, or not you, for that matter, if he’s plotting against Peter? I mean, why Glen?”
     Brenda rocked her body just a bit. She was flirting, which was always her way, her constant affectation around men. Brock smiled, but only to himself. He’d never wanted any other woman but Jane from the moment they’d met. It was absurd that she now thought he did, especially Brenda, whose scantily fleshed out body reminded him of an adolescent boy. He wanted to flip open his cell phone and call his wife, just to tell her that her father was a bastard and the only thing he wanted from Brenda was assurance. If all this were real, it changed everything.
     “Because you’re married to Jane and Peter was always more of a father to his daughter than he was. Jane would never let you betray Peter. And me?” Brenda winked at him. “My few one-night stands with Peter could be interpreted as loyalty, though God knows, I have none.”
     Brock stood up. He towered over her and nearly reached her eight-foot ceiling.
     “Listen, if what you’re saying is true, I want a takeover. I want no part of this war between Peter and Devon. Let them chew each other up. You and I together have enough contacts to go on our own.”
     He stared at her. He was surprised at his own words, but he meant it. If he had wanted to work with Devon, he would have stayed in England. Devon was a mean bastard. He was also greedy; his split had been an absurd five percent.
     “I was hoping you’d say that.” Brenda lit another cigarette without leaving his gaze.”
     “That would make us partners,” he said, “just you and me, I’m not opening this up to anyone else.”
     “I’m yours,” she said, sending him smoke rings. “Peter is getting too old for this and Devon is a creep; we can’t trust him. This idiot ploy of his is going to splinter the whole operation, so let’s take our contacts and run.”
     Brock slipped on his jacket. “Let me think this through,” he said. “I’ll be back in touch. Id this is real we’re bound to hear of another false buy very soon. If this is Devon’s plan, to discredit Peter, he won’t wait very long to send him more bullshit about a precious stone that’s surfaced.”
     “Maybe art this time, who knows? What about Jane, will you tell her?” she asked.
     “Of course, I tell her everything,” he said and paused at the door. “Not right away though, she might not like it.”

 

About the Author

I am an award-winning hybrid author of southern and women’s Fiction,
including Dancing Backward in Paradise, The Story of Sassy Sweetwater, Where
the Wildflowers Grow, Pleasant Day, Marybeth, Hollister & Jane and Lies
a River Deep. As my alter ego, Olivia Hardy Ray my books include Annabel
Horton, Lost Witch of Salem, Annabel Horton and the Black Witch of Pau, and
Pharaoh’s Star. The first novel I ever wrote, Dancing Backward In Paradise,
won an Eric Hoffer Award for publishing excellence and an Indie Excellence
Award for notable new fiction, 2007. The Story of Sassy Sweetwater and
Dancing Backward in Paradise received 5 Star ForeWord Clarion Reviews and
The Story of Sassy Sweetwater has been named a finalist for the ForeWord
Book of the Year Awards. I have published in ESL Magazine, Christopher
Street Magazine and I have also written early childhood curriculum for
Weekly Reader and McGraw Hill.

 

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Mystery – Two for the Road

Mystery – Two for the Road

An Adam Fraley Mystery

Mystery, Crime Mystery

Published: September 2020

Publisher: Melange Books

 

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Private investigator Adam Fraley and his colleague, Tamra Fugit, the woman
to whom he is engaged, travel vastly different paths, as they take on two
seemingly unrelated missing person cases. The trails take them through
idyllic lands darkened by underworld intrigue, twisted relationships. carnal
temptation, physical danger, and personal tragedy. Such are the legal
ramifications they confront during their crossing of both state and
international boundaries, that the FBI is eventually drawn into the matter.
From the very beginning, little did the investigators realize that the two
roads they were travelling eventually would come crashing together in a
manner entirely unexpected, testing not only their professional skills and
resolve, but their personal faith in each other.

  

Excerpt

 

Chapter One

April 1997

 

The paramount lesson Adam Fraley learned early on in the private
investigation business was to place a premium on case selection. Much like
personnel hiring, you want to make sure you take on the right case, just as
you would the right person, lest you end up drowned in disappointment and
endless damage control. Fortunately, he had thus far successfully managed
this aspect of the business. First, by hiring Tamra Fugit several years ago
as his office manager. Secondly, by relying on her knack for making the
right choices. Still, no selection system was foolproof. As an old boss of
his was fond of saying, “You can only ride horses so many times before
you get bucked off one.” Consequently, the admonition was always in
the back of his mind when he and she met for their regular Monday morning
caseload review.

“What’s on the agenda?” he asked from a visitor’s
chair positioned in front of her desk.

“Two cases—one for you and one for me,” she said, working
her desktop computer.

He halted in mid-motion the sip of coffee he was about to take to look
askance at her.

She swiveled her chair to face him. “I’ve assisted you in
nearly every case we’ve taken on since I was hired here, Adam. And
thanks to your generosity, I will soon own half of the business. No better
time for me to start taking half ownership of some of the cases, don’t
you agree?”

“By ownership you mean taking to the street—the actual gumshoe
part.”

“Yes…surveillance and tracking.”

“Who’s going to take care of the office end of it while
we’re out gumshoeing?” he asked, carefully setting his coffee
cup on her desk.

“Think of it this way,” she replied. “As with the modern
family, the mother sometimes stays home to tend to the house and kids while
the father is at work. Conversely, the husband stays home while the working
wife takes to the road. We are destined to become a family business, are we
not?”

“You’re looking terrific today,” he abruptly said to the
woman who would have to be subjected to prolonged physical duress, say like
an extended hike through the Mohave desert, to look bad—the woman, by the
way, he happened to be betrothed to. But for her presence, the Adam Fraley
Private Investigations office could best be described as nondescript, he
opined.

“Do you realize your auburn hair, beautiful green eyes, and bright
yellow dress offset very well the dull cast of this office?” he
continued.

“You’re digressing,” she said. “Or are you
stalling?”

“Okay, what are the two?” he asked in resignation.

“The first is for you,” she said, sorting through some notes on
her desk. “I received a call from a woman by the name of Carmen
Rivera. She was calling from Bogota, Colombia, where she lives. She has a
son by the name of Manny who is attending Coastal State College here. She
and her husband have not heard from Manny in over a month. Normally, he
checks in with them at least once or twice a week. He lives in an off-campus
home which he shares with another student who, for whatever reason, claims
no knowledge of his whereabouts.”

“She’s contacted the cops?”

“Yes, and received the standard reply. Since he is an adult and there
is no evidence of foul play, they will not get involved at this
point.”

“We should send the department a thank you note, considering how much
business that policy of theirs generates for us. You have the address for
the kid?”

She again scrambled through the notes on her desk, picked one out and
handed it to him. “Here you go.”

“Before we get started, how are we handling the fees? It’s not
like we have a history of job requests from overseas on which to draw from.
In fact, we have no history of it…right?”

“Correct,” she said. “However, if we do take the case,
she will wire us a down payment upfront with the remainder to follow once we
have concluded our investigation.”

“What do you think?” he asked. “Legitimate?”

“She spoke in a very cultured voice and with a mother’s
concern. My sense is the Rivera family could very well be one of the five
percent of the populace who control the wealth of the country.”

“Five percent…is that a fact or your opinion?”

“It comes from a former roommate of mine who spent a half year in the
country.”

“Doing what?”

“Studying the Colombia rainforest region.”

“For what?”

“Six course credits,” she cracked. “She was in a study
abroad program.”

“Well, it’s not likely we’re going to break the parents
financially,” he said. “And the second case—the one
you’ve put a claim to?”

Tamra glanced at another note on her desk. “I received a call from a
man named Mickey Riley. He says his sister went missing about four weeks
ago. He wants us to find her.”

“Let me guess…the cops don’t want to get involved
because she is an adult and there is no evidence of foul play.”

“You got it.”

“So, does Mickey have any idea where his sister might
be?”

“With her husband somewhere, he says.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Adam asked, no doubt repeating
the same question the cops asked the brother.

“According to Mickey, the husband, himself, is a bad thing…a
very bad thing. Apparently, his sister has become a virtual prisoner of her
husband, to the point he won’t even let her out of the house. A
control freak, to say the least.”

“So, you aim to free her?”

“I aim to find her. It’s up to the brother to free her.
He’s coming in for a meeting this afternoon. I should know more then,
including where would be a good place to start looking for her. Meanwhile,
your mother called. She’d like to know if we want a wedding planner.
If so, she knows of a good one.”

“We’ve already decided we don’t need one, don’t you
remember?”

“I certainly do, but apparently you failed to pass that bit of info
along to her.”

“I’ll tell her when we finish with these two cases,” he
sighed, perturbed by his oversight.

“You know, this will be a good time to go on the road,” he
followed. “Noelle will be on her school-sponsored camping trip. We
should be home by the time she returns.”

“If all goes well,” Tamra responded with a deadpan
expression.

Adam leaned across the desk. “I have a proposition for you. How about
we flip the cases? You trail after the missing student and I chase after the
missing sister? You know how volatile these simmering domestic situations
can get. They’re invariably about some demented guy’s passion to
control another, usually a helpless woman, like the one you describe in this
case. The moment you show up, you become a threat to take away that control.
Needless to say, he’s not going to like that at all.”

“Are you worried for my safety? Would you rather I go chasing after
porch poachers…sit in the car for hours on end waiting for a home
delivery to be stolen? We still have one of those requests on the back
burner waiting for a decision.”

“No, I’m not worried for your safety. It’s the safety of
the captive wife’s husband, I’m worried about,” he joshed,
rising from his chair to give her a quick kiss, followed by a longer one,
before heading out of the office. “Before you leave, I have two other
items to run by you,” she said, halting his movement.

“Okay…the first?”

 

“Harold Jenkins, the attorney from The Justice Brigade called. He
wants to know if you’d like to meet with him regarding the merger idea
that he discussed with you over the phone a while back.”

Adam slipped back into the chair, indicating it was a subject requiring
immediate attention. “What do you think?” he asked of her.

Tamra gave a slight shrug. “I remember you mentioned the idea at the
time. Run it by me again.”

“They’re interested in bringing us into their fold via some
sort of a partnership, whether it be a corporate takeover, merger, or
retainer-type arrangement. Whatever it takes to get us on
board.”

“A big operation like theirs? What for?”

“Law firms have a need for tracking missing persons or conducting
background checks, as you well know…”

“Yes, we’ve conducted several for them recently,” she
interjected.

“Right, and apparently they liked the results. The Justice Brigade is
one of those young, aggressive, fast-growing firms looking to gain a leg up
on their competition. It’s not like they don’t have many law
firms to compete with.”

Tamra flashed a look of surprise. “By doing their own detective
work?”

“My guess is they’re planning to become a one-stop shopping
operation, so to speak.”

“What’s in it for us?”

“Well, it could mean a steady work flow, which is no small matter.
Looking down the road a way, there’s Noelle’s college tuition
costs looming on the horizon. Right now, we’re operating at a small
profit margin, enough to keep us afloat for the time being. However, as you
and I have discussed, we’ve reached the stage where we’re either
going to have to raise production or raise prices. I have a hunch joining
forces with the Justice Brigade would lessen our office management burden
significantly. Taking on the bulk of our paperwork would be an insignificant
addition to their overall workload. Doing so would allow us to concentrate
on the detective work.”

“You’re making it sound like—what do they call it in the
business world—a white knight coming to the rescue. I don’t see
it as magnanimous move on their part, Adam. They are simply making a
business pitch.”

“Oh, I agree, but at the moment we’re discussing potential
benefits, not the drawbacks. Jenkins also pointed out we would be working
under their legal umbrella.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning they would provide us free legal service, both personal and
professional. And depending on the business arrangement, perhaps even
corporate benefits, like retirement plans, something foreign to
us.”

“Adam, we may be gaining corporate benefits, but would we not be
losing our corporate identity?”

“That’s going to depend on the details of the proposed
agreement. The question is how much independence we would be surrendering,
starting with the case selection process. Who is going to have the final say
on which ones we take on?”

“I do see one potential benefit in that regard,” Tamra opined.
“They could serve as a filter to the possible legal landmines of each
case. There are always those we have to consider.”

“True, but then there are other issues—potential conflicts of
interest, the need to report to a supervisor, how it may affect the positive
relationship we’ve developed with local law enforcement officials over
the years—not to mention the more logistical items like office
location. No question, there would be details galore to be worked out.
Perhaps not so many if it was a retainer-type agreement, which could
suffice, for all we know.”

“Something along the lines of a rental car company operating in the
maintenance section of a car dealership,” Tamra suggested. “Have
you consulted with your old boss on this?”

“Pete? No, though I definitely intend to before any final decision is
made.”

Adam was already having second thoughts on the proposed relationship,
particularly its impact on the freedom of choice regarding the case
selection guidelines. Currently, the procedure was greatly influenced by
their location. They were operating out of a street-level office situated on
the corner of a moderately busy street. Walk-in traffic was
steady—granted, not always a good thing for a P.I. outfit. It led to a
significant amount of “impulse buying,” which was not in tune
with most of the trade’s target base. Passersby would spot the store
sign and on the spur of the moment decide they would rid themselves of
lingering suspicions that their spouses were cheating on them, or an
employee of theirs had his or her hand in the till, or they wanted their
outdoor cat trailed so they could find out where it was spending the day.
Following one walk-in guy’s request that they conduct a background
check on his neighbor whom he suspected was a mass murderer, he joked to
Tamra that they should post a sign on the front entrance stating We
don’t do serial killers. It was one of the reasons a growing number of
private investigators were forsaking the brick-and-mortar store for the home
office where there was less chance of the delusional individual wandering in
off the street to seek their assistance. In a home-based operation it was
much easier to concentrate on corporate clients who were interested in
tackling problems like insurance fraud or employee theft. That’s where
the money was.

Yet, despite all the challenges posed by the walk-in trade, it did offer
what Adam considered the most rewarding aspect of the profession—the
opportunity to fix a family for the man or woman in the street. Tamra had
picked up on this preference of his early on and had developed the skills to
take on cases based on the attributes of clients, more so than the task
involved, a distinction that greatly reduced the possibility of subsequent
regret.

“In selecting clients, you want to pick someone whose side you wish
to be on,” he had advised her. “There are no honeymoon,
probation, or engagement periods with clients. Therefore, you want to be on
the same page with them from day one. Lawyers may look at it differently,
giving greater consideration to the case.”

Her earlier mention of a white knight potentially acting as a filter for
the business brought him an inward smile, for there was no better filter
than her in screening out the nightmare client.

“Maybe these two cases we’re taking on simultaneously will give
us an indication of how raising the production end of the operation impacts
us…office-wise and field-wise,” Tamra continued.

Adam glanced at the wall clock. “Maybe so…now, what was the second
item you wanted to bring up before I head off?” he asked, hurrying her
along.

“I received my first subpoena.”

“Relating to Adam Fraley Private Investigations, I
assume.”

“Yes.”

“Another good reason to join The Justice Brigade,” he quipped.
“Seriously, you are to be congratulated. I’m surprised it took
this long. In this business you come to expect them. What does it pertain
to?”

“Do you recall those background checks I conducted for the Midtown
Mall security people for that job opening they had a few months
back?”

“Sure do.”

“One of the applicants is suing, claiming she lost out to a far less
qualified candidate. I’m not sure why they want my
testimony.”

“Which side are you testifying for?”

“The security firm…any tips?”

“Stick to the facts of the background checks and be very careful with
your opinions. I had a similar case not long after I first got into this
business. I conducted background checks on a group of applicants for an
upper level position in a banking firm. As in your case, one of the
applicants sued for being bypassed for what she called a less qualified
candidate. The bank felt they had a solid case and, in my opinion, they did.
In the court testimony, however, one of the bank’s personnel managers
on the hiring panel stupidly commented on the witness stand that he
considered the plaintiff a dullard. When the judge’s final ruling came
down in favor of the plaintiff, the word ‘dullard’ appeared five
times in the written decision. He cited it as an example of a preconceived
bias. As a result, the plaintiff ended up getting the job and the careless
personnel manager wound up without one. He was fired.”

“I’ll be sure to watch my language,” Tamra
declared.

“When’s the court date? It’s not going to interfere with
present business, is it?”

“No, it’s a month away.”

“You’re fortunate, though I should say we’re fortunate.
Often those subpoenas are served hours in advance,” he said.
“Nothing like having a monkey wrench thrown into your regular workday
plans before you even get started on them.”

Adam paused a moment, reflecting on Tamra’s proposal about who would
handle which assignment. Both cases could present dangerous circumstances,
he knew from previous experience, so trading cases based on the facts as
presently known could be premature.

“Tamra, I’m not comfortable leaving you in charge of a domestic
case that could go awry,” he said.

“The future is always unclear, no matter what type of case we take
on,” she countered.

“This is the nature of the business we’re in.”

“Then promise me that you’ll fill me in the moment your
intuition tells you that you’re in over your head.”

“You’ll be the first to know, she said, gathering her notes.
“With that in mind, we best hit the road.”

About the Author

Henry Hoffman is a former newspaper editor and public library manager. He
is the author of the Adam Fraley Mystery Series and is the recipient of the
Florida Publishers Association’s Gold Medal Award for Florida Fiction.

 

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Mystery – Against My Better Judgement

Mystery – Against My Better Judgement

Mauzzy and Me Mystery, Book 1

Mystery, New Adult, Young Adult

Date Published: September 16, 2020

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

 

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When freshman year at the University of Alabama draws to a close, Sara
Donovan finds herself grappling with the same old question—listen to
her head or follow her heart. What she ends up doing is purchasing an
Egyptian

souvenir funerary mask, and after a mysterious phone call, she’s certain a
ring of antiquities smugglers are operating in Tuscaloosa.

With finals never far from her mind and her return to ‘Bama hanging in the
balance, she should be studying. Instead she launches her own investigation
to prove her mask is indeed a stolen artifact, and not a cheap trinket. When
it comes time to snoop, Sara is more than ready, or at least she was until a
hot new teaching assistant moves in next door.

Suddenly she learns things are never as they seem. Ever.

About the Author

After a long career as a business executive, B.T. Polcari tried to retire.
Spoiler alert: he’s really bad at retirement. Bowling, tennis, and sailing
can only keep you busy for so long, so B.T. is now pursuing his childhood
dream of becoming a published author.

 

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Marybeth, Hollister and Jane

Marybeth, Hollister and Jane

 

Woman’s Fiction, Cozy Mystery

Date Published: 9/28/20

 

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 A lust for beauty, a secret just waiting to be told and a diamond as
seductive as the people around it. In the end, just who gets what?

 

 

About the Author

I am an award-winning hybrid author of southern and women’s Fiction,
including Dancing Backward in Paradise, The Story of Sassy Sweetwater, Where
the Wildflowers Grow, Pleasant Day, Marybeth, Hollister & Jane and Lies
a River Deep. As my alter ego, Olivia Hardy Ray my books include Annabel
Horton, Lost Witch of Salem, Annabel Horton and the Black Witch of Pau, and
Pharaoh’s Star. The first novel I ever wrote, Dancing Backward In Paradise,
won an Eric Hoffer Award for publishing excellence and an Indie Excellence
Award for notable new fiction, 2007. The Story of Sassy Sweetwater and
Dancing Backward in Paradise received 5 Star ForeWord Clarion Reviews and
The Story of Sassy Sweetwater has been named a finalist for the ForeWord
Book of the Year Awards. I have published in ESL Magazine, Christopher
Street Magazine and I have also written early childhood curriculum for
Weekly Reader and McGraw Hill.

 

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Romantic Mystery – A Story of Bad

Romantic Mystery – A Story of Bad

A Murder Mystery… A Romance… Intertwined

Mystery, Romantic Mystery

Publisher: Global Authors Publications

 

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A Story Of Bad features a woman and a man, both intelligent with strong
personalities.

She is June Replyn, a city reporter working the business side of the
fashion world. June is asked to write a story about how a small company, a
clothing factory, survives the death – by murder – of its inspirational
leader.

He is Detective Terry Stans. Reviewing clues and interviews, Detective
Stans comes away with the impression that the dead man knew his assailant,
and his dedicated workers and bereaved family are all prospective
suspects.

One day June is at the clothing factory gathering additional material, and
Terry is there, continuing his investigation. The detective is stuck. The
case is going nowhere, and he believes that the fashion writer has a better
view of the inside workings of the company than he has been afforded. Hoping
that fresh eyes will see something he hasn’t, he obtains a promise from her
that nothing will be printed without his permission, then he invites her to
come to his precinct station and review the file. Not long after, he invites
her to dinner at his favorite ribs joint.

This novel is about a reporter and a detective, both asking questions about
a murder – although from different perspectives – who become ensnared in a
romance. Their relationship raises questions about confidentiality, loyalty
to one’s employer, professional ethics; she is trying to write a story for
her readers, he is trying to keep control of an investigation. Both of their
bosses caution them about the dangers to their careers raised by this
situation. And there they are, lovers.

The tale is designed to intrigue with two intertwining stories, the mystery
of the murder and the unexpected love affair. As the relationship grows and
the mystery is solved we visit the worlds of Cambodian employees in America,
police investigations, newspapers and their editorial policies, and drug
smuggling.

There is no graphic violence or sex in the novel.

 

 

 

Excerpt

 

In this excerpt June Replyn is interviewing two sisters, Cambodians, about
a cousin and co-worker who was murdered in front of them. Because their
English is quite limited, June has brought along Salath Doeung (Sal), a
college student born in  New York to Khmer-speaking parents.

 

            The four sat in silence for a moment, sipping the hot green tea, eating the
sweet, wonderful dessert, and then the conversation began again. June wrote
some clarifying comments next to the notes she had hastily written as he was
speaking. She took her time, her head down, not wanting to convey the least
impatience. Silence, and she glanced up to see him writing. Then he said
something else and the cousin’s smiles disappeared. They paused, and then in
lowered voices began to speak. June felt like screaming, she wanted
simultaneous translation. What were they saying? But she waited, waited.
Finally they paused, and he turned back to her.

            “Two
things. The first is that she had done a little dating here but no
boyfriends, and she liked it that way, she thinks it isn’t easy to be a
married woman with little kids here, not if you don’t speak English. Like I
said before, she really wanted to go home, planned on it, and pretty much
was at work or here or a local restaurant, not out late, no mysteries. As
far as your guess, the one you mentioned in the car, I think your impression
is right, correct.”

            June,
head down, nodded slightly as she wrote.

            “Second,
someone at work, guy who unloads boxes and helps the cutter, assistant
cutter I guess, had a fight with her about some boxes or materials or
something. Something at work. They don’t know what it was about because Rith
didn’t want to talk about it, most unusual, she liked to gossip. They had a
fight, and after that she avoided him.”

            “Avoided
scared or avoided mad at?”

            He
turned back and there was a brief flurry of Khmer.

            “Scared,
but she didn’t want to talk about it.”

            “Did
they tell the police about this, and if so, why not?”

            Even as
she said it she realized her mistake; anyone living here, especially in
lower-income neighborhoods, knows the word ‘police’ no matter what their
language background or skills. The sisters visibly tensed.

            He started to turn, but she stopped him.

            “Wait, I
just made a stupid error, they recognized the p-word and they’re already on
guard. I really want to know the answers, hope you can
 fix things.”

            He
winked at her, a youthful show of confidence, and turned back to the two
young women, who now sat holding their tea cups tightly in their laps, their
backs straight. He spoke for some time, they both listening intently,
occasionally glancing at June. Then he stopped, and no one spoke for almost
a minute. Then Sopheara Moeun softly began to speak, said only a few words
and her sister spoke sharply to her. Sopheara responded in a raised voice,
Sopharath responded loudly, and suddenly both were standing on their feet,
noses inches apart, screaming at each other. In the midst of this June noted
that they carefully placed the teacups back on the tray, a gentle, delicate
gesture while they shouted as loud as they could. Suddenly Sopharath whirled
and looked at June with a startling combination of fear and anger, tears
starting to run, and held out both hands, palms up, pleading, and said “You
all make dead.” Her right hand changed, index finger pointing, and pointed
at herself and her sister, back and forth, pointing at each several times.
“You all make dead, you all make dead.” She ran from the room.

            June
wasn’t sure what to do next, so she did nothing. She lowered her eyes,
giving up any control, trusting that her interpreter, who had done so well
so far, would know what to do.

            He said
something softly, and Sopheara sat down again. He paused, then turned to
June. “They do know something, they may even know who did it. They are, as
you can see, scared. They didn’t say anything to the police for that reason,
but now Sopheara feels that she has to make it right, has to help the
Americans…I mean, the government, punish him.”

            June
took her time, spoke slowly and gently, nodding at Sopheara Moeun, trying to
be positive, reassuring, conveying not only through the words to be
translated but with her demeanor and tone of voice. “Please tell her this.
First, she is doing the right thing, honoring her cousin’s memory, and that
she is very brave. Second, I have.. friends… in the police department, and
I promise her that they will be very careful, move cautiously, and not do
anything that will…. No, that doesn’t work. Sorry. Say this, say that I
will explain the situation and ask the police to be very careful.”

            The
Khmer began again, both speaking in soft voices for a short time. Then Sal
leaned forward and gently patted Sopheara on the shoulder, looked her in the
eyes and said something. She smiled shyly, got up and started to leave the
room. She stopped in front of June and, while looking at her, said something
in Khmer. Salath Doeung translated “I hope you are the one who wins.” Then
she was gone.

 

About the Author

Edward M. Krauss is the author of A Story Of Bad; Solomon The Accountant (a
gentle love story set in a middle-class Jewish community in Toledo, Ohio in
1950); Here On Moon (betrayal, divorce, recovery).

 

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Paranormal Mystery – Blood on The Chesapeake

Paranormal Mystery – Blood on The Chesapeake

The Haunted Shores Mysteries, Book 1

Paranormal Mystery

Date Published: April 10, 2019

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

 

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A Murder Mystery, a Ghost Story, and a Dangerous Romance all combine to
make Blood on the Chesapeake a Suspense Thriller That You Just Cannot Put
Down.

Wilshire, Maryland seems like the perfect shore town on the Chesapeake
Bay—quiet, scenic, charming—and promises Darrell Henshaw a new
start in life and a second chance at love. That is, until he learns the town
hides an ugly secret. A thirty-year-old murder in the high school. And a
frightening ghost stalking his new office. Burned by an earlier encounter
with the spirit world—with the OCD scars to prove it—he does NOT
want to get involved. But when the desperate ghost hounds him, Darrell
concedes.  Assisted by his new love, he follows a trail that leads to
the civil rights movement, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and even the Klu Klux
Klan. Then, when two locals who try to help are murdered, Darrell is forced
to decide if he’s willing to risk his life—and the life of the
woman he loves—to expose the killers of a young man he never
knew.

 

Second Book in The Haunted Shores Mysteries Just Released!!!

 

 

Crimson at Cape May

The Haunted Shores Mysteries, Book 2

Release Date: July 20, 2020

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

 

No matter how far you run, you can never really escape a haunted
past.

Darrell Henshaw—teacher, coach, and paranormal
sensitive—learned this lesson the hard way. Now, with his job gone and
few options, he heads for Cape May to coach a summer football camp. The
resort town, with gorgeous beaches, rich history and famous Victorian
mansions, might just be the getaway he needs. Only, no one told him Cape May
is the most haunted seaport on the East Coast.

When a resident ghost, the Haunted Bride, stalks Darrell, begging for his
help, he can’t refuse, and joins forces with Cassie, another sensitive. As
Darrell and the street-wise teen investigate the bride’s death, they uncover
something far more sinister than a murder. Can Darrell and Cassie expose
those behind the crimes before they end up becoming the next victims?

Purchase from Amazon

 

About the Author

Dr. Randy Overbeck is a veteran educator who has served children for more
than three decades as a teacher and school leader, winning national
recognition for his work. Over that time, he has performed many of the roles
depicted in his fiction, with responsibilities ranging from coach and
yearbook advisor to principal and superintendent. An accomplished writer, he
has been published in academia, the popular press and, more recently, in
better bookstores. His first novel, Leave No Child Behind, won the 2011
Silver Award for Thriller of the Year from ReadersFavorite.com. His second
novel, Blood on the Chesapeake, a ghost story/mystery released this year by
the Wild Rose Press, has earned 5 STAR REVIEWS from RaeadersFavorite.com,
Long and Short Reviews, Literary Titan and Chanticleer Book Reviews. It also
garnered national awards, the GOLD AWARD from Literary Titan and Honorable
Mention from Readers View. Blood is the first in a new series called the
“Haunted Shores Mysteries.” Dr. Overbeck is a member of the
Mystery Writers of America and an active member of the literary
community.

 

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