Sunday, March 17, 2024

Struck Dead by Andrea Kane Blog Tour Book Review


Struck Dead

by Andrea Kane

March 4 - 29, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The fragile line between life and death… Families that will never be the same…

When a tragic hit-and-run takes the life of a hardworking family man, multi-millionaire Christopher Hillington becomes the prime suspect, and the whole city of New York alights with speculation as to what happened.

But before the NYPD can establish Hillington’s guilt, he himself is brutally murdered in his own home. As he lays dying, he scrawls the name Casey Woods with his own blood, and the Forensic Instincts team is drawn into a complex mystery that has placed its president in the sights of a desperate killer.

A millionaire’s life is full of secrets and suspects. So as the baffled NYPD investigates Casey for the murder, and the body-count ratchets up, Casey herself becomes another potential victim. The FI team’s hardcore investigation has them twisting and turning through suspects and secrets, where the stakes intensify―and so does the collateral damage. As Casey and the team get closer to finding the killer, the unthinkable happens, and the life of one of FI’s own hangs in the blood-stained balance.

They say dead men tell no tales, but blood doesn’t lie. Peeling back layer after layer of deception, the team will cross whatever lines are necessary to solve the case, get justice for the families, and make their team whole again…unless the relentless killer gets to them first.

My Review:

I have enjoyed this series. The characters making up Forensic Instincts are the driving force in the enjoyment of this series. From a clairvoyant to tech savvy people, they all work together in unusual ways to investigate a mystery. The investigation in this novel is intense as at risk is one of their own. I like how they dance around the line between legal investigation and necessary but illegal work, such as hacking to get records and other information often police detectives don't even think about.

I like how Kane balances the work of the investigation with personal aspects of the FI people. I have read several books in the series and I have become engaged in the ongoing personal stories. While this novel is down the line in the series, there is enough back story that it can be enjoyed on its own.

This is a great addition to the series with plenty of action, a good mystery and a fitting resolution. It looks like there will be a new member of the team and new adventures in the future. I've enjoyed this series and I'll be watching for them.

My rating: 5/5 stars.

You can read my review of previous books in the series: At Any Cost, No Stone Unturned, Dead in a Week, and A Face to Die For.

Book Details:

Genre: Suspense Thriller
Published by: Bonnie Meadow Publishing
Publication Date: March 2024
Number of Pages: 384
ISBN: 9781682320631 (ISBN10: 1682320634)
Series: Forensic Instincts (#10)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

1

Offices of Forensic Instincts
Tribeca, New York
Main conference room
Monday, 9:40 a.m.

Casey Woods, the president of Forensic Instincts, stood at the head of the oval table, her jaw having dropped. She pressed her iPhone closer to her ear, and tried to reconcile herself, both to who the caller was, and the reason for her call.

She certainly didn’t sound like the Angela King that Casey knew. And why in the name of heaven was she reaching out to Casey, of all people?

Angela repeated her original demand: “I need you to meet me now—as in drop everything and get over here.” This time her voice was commanding but shaken.

Shaken? Angela King?

Casey’s mind raced.

Angela was a high-powered and aggressive criminal defense attorney at Harris, Porter, & Donnelly. A virtual barracuda. Rumor had it that she was next up to make partner. No surprise. She successfully defended the richest of the rich, from corporate executives, to wealthy entrepreneurs, to “businessmen” with rumored links to Organized Crime—a fact she chose to overlook since they were affluent enough to pay her fees. She and Forensic Instincts were on opposite sides of law enforcement. They’d battled it out more than once the criminals that FI had helped catch becoming the very criminals Angela would defend.

Needless to say, the FI team and Angela weren’t friends.

And yet, here she was, calling Casey on an urgent, time-is-of-the-essence matter—one she seemed incredibly high-strung about.

“Casey?” Angela repeated. “Did you hear me?”

Casey lowered herself into a chair. “I heard you. What is this about? And why me, of all people?”

“You’ll see for yourself,” Angela replied. She rattled off the address of a luxury skyscraper on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. “Hurry. I’m jeopardizing my career by waiting to call 9-1-1. I can’t wait much longer. But you have to view the scene first and later provide me with some answers. No more questions. Just come. I have a key to the building’s back door. I’ll let you in. We’ll use the freight elevator.”

Casey’s common sense was urging her to refuse. 9-1-1 meant a crime scene, and questions meant involving her. Both those things were screaming for her to stay away. She pushed aside that inner voice. She was too intrigued to refuse. “I’m on my way.”

She shrugged into her wool winter coat as she called John Nickels, Forensic Instincts’ number one on their security team. Then, she blew out the front door, not waiting to fill the FI team in on where she was going. There was no time. Plus, they’d only try to talk her out of it.

Holiday decorations were glistening everywhere, and tiny snowflakes danced in the air.

Casey didn’t notice any of it.

John pulled around a few minutes later, and Casey hopped into the car, gave him the address, and urged him to hurry.

With a brief nod, John was on his way, navigating the FDR Drive in record time. He got Casey to her destination in thirteen minutes. He dropped her off around back, far from the doorman’s view. Then, he waited to return her to the brownstone once her meeting was over, as per her instructions.

Angela was pacing inside the building, and opened the door to let Casey in the moment she saw her. No matter how dire the occasion, Angela always looked stunning. An Armani cobalt blue pants suit that set off her dark skin, matching four-inch Louboutin heels, and long wavy black hair styled at the highest end salon. She carried herself like a queen. In short, she was a knock-out.

Now she looked more rattled than Casey had ever seen her.

“Let’s go,” she said. She led the way to the freight elevator, where she and Casey rode up.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Casey stated flatly.

Angela didn’t answer. She glanced at her Apple Watch, her gaze snapping up as the elevator stopped on the twenty-first floor.

The doors slid open.

Angela paused only long enough to ensure that Casey was right behind her. Then, she strode down the hall, made a turn, and halted in front of Apartment Twenty-One B. She unlocked the door, pulled Casey inside, and faced her to offer the first few words of an explanation.

“This is the home of my client, Christopher Hillington. We had a nine-thirty AM meeting scheduled to be held here.”

Casey’s brows rose. Christopher Hillington was a renowned and phenomenally wealthy managing director of the private equity firm YNE. He was also a major suspect in a vehicular homicide, and Casey knew through various news sources that he’d been questioned several times by the NYPD and was on the verge of arrest.

“I see you know of him,” Angela said. “Given the circumstances, I’m not surprised.” She gestured toward a breathtaking sunken living room. “In here.”

Casey bit back her question about what Angela had just said. She sensed she was about to get her answers. So she remained silent.

The two women stepped down and Angela stood to a side and waited.

Casey got the full view immediately.

Christopher Hillington’s body was crumpled on the Oriental carpet beside his desk, blood pooling out around him. His head was bashed in, clearly having been struck multiple times by a heavy object. The bloodied sledge hammer lying next to the body was obviously the murder weapon. Judging from the damage done, the killer had been, not only determined, but brutal.

Casey eyeballed the scene, feeling sickened as well as confused. She was about to ask Angela what this horrific scene had to do with her when she spotted the letters, written in blood, on the lower edge of the desk, right beside Hillington’s outstretched arm.

She walked over, careful not to touch anything, squatted down, and squinted. The two words were completely legible, and they made Casey’s blood run cold.

Casey Woods.

***

Excerpt from Struck Dead by Andrea Kane. Copyright 2024 by Andrea Kane. Reproduced with permission from Andrea Kane. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:

Andrea Kane is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of thirty-two novels, including eighteen psychological thrillers and fourteen historical romantic suspense titles. With her signature style, Kane creates unforgettable characters and confronts them with life-threatening danger. As a master of suspense, she weaves them into exciting, carefully-researched stories, pushing them to the edge—and keeping her readers up all night.
Kane’s first contemporary suspense thriller, Run for Your Life, became an instant New York Times bestseller.
She followed with a string of bestselling psychological thrillers including No Way Out, Twisted and Drawn in Blood.
Her latest in the highly successful Forensic Instincts series, Struck Dead, showcases the dynamic, eclectic team of investigators as they hunt down a desperate killer who’s threatened one of their own. The first showcase of Forensic Instincts’ talents came with the New York Times bestseller, The Girl Who Disappeared Twice, followed by The Line Between Here and Gone, The Stranger You Know, The Silence That Speaks, The Murder That Never Was, A Face To Die For, Dead In A Week, No Stone Unturned, At Any Cost, and Struck Dead.
Kane’s beloved historical romantic suspense novels include My Heart’s Desire, Samantha, Echoes in the Mist, and Wishes in the Wind.
With a worldwide following of passionate readers, her books have been published in more than twenty languages.
Kane lives in New Jersey with her family. She’s an avid crossword puzzle solver and a diehard Yankees fan.
Author Hometown – Warren, New Jersey

Catch Up With Andrea Kane:
www.AndreaKane.com
Goodreads
BookBub
Instagram - @authorandreakane
Twitter/X - @andrea_kane
Facebook - @AuthorAndreaKane

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!

Click here to view Struck Dead by Andrea Kane Tour Hosts

 

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I received a complimentary egalley of this book through Partners in Crime Book Tours. My comments are an independent and honest review. The rest of the copy of this post was provided by Partners in Crime Book Tours.

(My star ratings: 5-I love it, 4-I like it, 3-It's OK, 2-I don't like it, 1-I hate it.)

Saturday, March 16, 2024

The Big Lie by Gabriel Valjan Blog Tour Book Review

 

THE BIG LIE

by Gabriel Valjan

March 11 - April 5, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A Shane Cleary Mystery

LOST: Poodle. Standard. Black. Studded collar. No tags. Goes by the name of Boo.

Sun Tzu may have said, ‘Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer,’ but he didn’t live in Boston, and he’s not Shane Cleary. Shane’s latest and most unexpected client, while not quite an enemy, is Southie’s most dangerous criminal. Everything screams he shouldn’t take the gig, finding the gangster’s lost dog, but Shane can’t resist the promised ‘bonus.’

His cat, Delilah, is against it, and his girlfriend, Bonnie, the lawyer, doesn’t know.

Life is neither easy nor simple for Shane. Bonnie asks for his help on a pro bono case, his friend Bill requests a sketchy background check, and a mafia henchman makes a peculiar request. Shane can’t help but think his client just might kill him anyway after he finishes the job.

Does Jimmy know a Truth that will change Shane’s life, or is it a Big Lie?

Praise for THE BIG LIE:

"Gabriel Valjan writes in a voice not heard since the golden days of the noir novel. His tough characters—good guys, bad guys, and confused folks just caught in the whirlwind—sparkle like the facets of a dark jewel, and his images linger in the mind after the book’s long over."
~ SJ Rozan, best-selling author of THE MAYORS OF NEW YORK

"If Raymond Chandler were alive today, this is the story he’d write: Great characters, a noir-ish plot that never flags, writing that sizzles, and a relevant tale of the ways in which justice is, sadly, not blind."
~ Mally Becker, Agatha nominated author of THE TURNCOAT’S WIDOW

"Whip-smart, pacy, and full of curves. A worthy addition to the PI oeuvre."
~ Colin Campbell, Acclaimed author of the Jim Grant thrillers

"When you begin a crime novel with PI Shane Cleary getting hired by a gangster to find a stolen pooch, a standard poodle named Boo, there are several ways you can go, and most of them are downhill. Fortunately, Gabriel Valjan is at the helm of THE BIG LIE, which guarantees it heads in the right direction. Up. The dialogue is snappy, the retorts witty, and along the way we meet a host of unforgettable characters--hey, it’s Boston, what else would you expect?"
~ Charles Salzberg is the award-winning and Shamus Award nominated author of SECOND STORY MAN, CANARY IN THE COAL MINE and the Henry Swann series

My Review:

Who knew that being asked to find a missing dog would lead to so much adventure. But then, since the dog was owned by a mob boss, adventure was sure to follow.

These PI novels featuring Shane Cleary are unique in that Shane blends a life of being an acquaintance of mob bosses, an ex-police officer who had alienated fellow police officers by being truthful, and the significant other of an attorney. That makes for a complicated and tightrope walking kind of life and it all comes together in this novel. Although this novel is down the line in the series, it reads pretty well on its own with enough back story included to make sense of the action.

Valjan's writing style is clear and entertaining. The pace of this novel is consistent as Shane gets into all kinds of trouble. We are taken into the murky world of mob influence, wondering of Shane will make it through in one piece. He is also involved preventing the railroading of a young black accused of theft. The two plot elements are woven together to make an engaging novel centered on the character of Shane as the driving force. The tight dialogue and relationship interactions he has with Bonnie are good additional aspects of the novel.

I recommend this novel to readers who would like an adventure into the underworld of Boston in the 1970s featuring a realistic and determined hero.

My rating: 4/5 stars. 

You can read my reviews of the earlier books in the series: Dirty Old Town, Symphony Road, Hush Hush, and Liar's Dice.

Book Details:

Genre: Hardboiled Detective Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: March 2024
Number of Pages: 175
ISBN: 978-1685125301
Series: A Shane Cleary Mystery, Book 5
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads | Bookshop

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE:

BROTHER RAT

“A dog? You want me to find a dog?”

“That’s right.”

The head lifted, and eyes the color of Windex evaluated me. The slice of light from the streetlamp through the curtains behind him revealed a revolver on the armrest and a pair of pliers in one hand, which he squeezed to strengthen his grip. He used them to extract teeth from his victims. Whether he did it when they were alive or dead added to the legend and menace of Southie’s most infamous son. Another man stood near him.

I’m told life serves you the same lesson over and over until you learn what you need to learn before the next thing comes along. I’ve also been told that karma never forgets an address. Jimmy was proof of both. He almost killed me but didn’t. I should’ve killed him, but I couldn’t because he was protected, and not by the mob. A stained badge shielded the man sitting in my chair, in my apartment in Union Park.

My landlady had called me at Bonnie’s place. She told me I had visitors, and they wanted a word with me. She said Jimmy made a point to pet her two Corgis and offered her some advice. The thug recommended a brand of dog food so her dogs wouldn’t gain more weight. He emphasized canine physical fitness, which was pure Jimmy since he was a fitness nut.

Jimmy had muscles because like most of the young lions in Southie, he lifted weights. He sported a veined neck, muscular arms, and a thick chest trapped inside a tight polo shirt. I knew if I couldn’t take him, I was confident he’d feel me for days. We both weighed about 165 pounds, but I had a smidge more height to his five-eight. I had one more advantage over Jimmy, I could stand my ground and take a hit. Jimmy, like most jockeys of the weight room, walked around with toothpicks for legs because he neglected to train them. His pant leg rode high enough for me to eyeball pasty shins, black socks, and sneakers. No ankle piece there.

I read the room as I came in. The situation would play out in one of two ways. One is someone pulled a trigger, and my last thought was either part of the hardwood floor or, my brains were spaghetti against the wall and ceiling. The second option was I lived, forced to listen and learn how to avoid the same situation again. Like I said, a lesson in life and karma.

Jimmy murmured something to his bodyguard. It was low and slow, the kind of soft and secretive Irish whisper you’d expect in a bar’s last hour. I assumed he’d told his man to wait outside because the guy moved past me. The door to my apartment opened and closed. I didn’t see his face but caught a glimpse of the feet. Construction boots.

The pair of pliers indicated the chair near me. “Sit.”

“I prefer to stand.”

“Suit yourself.”

I peeled my jacket off, so he’d know I was armed. His eyes admired the holster. I knew what he was going to say, so I said it before he did. “Same rig as Steve McQueen in Bullitt.”

“Cross-draw don’t seem bright or effective.”

“Want to test me?”

His right hand pulsed with the pliers. A blued steel .357 slept on the left armrest of my favorite chair. His choice of firearm was an older model, not the kind Dirty Harry would carry, but it got the job done. Jimmy was right-handed, but that wasn’t the point. His eyes flashed, as a way to taunt me, and then focused. “Nah, I don’t feel lucky today, and all I want is for you to find my dog.”

“On second thought,” I said, “I think I’ll take that seat.”

“Excellent, we can have a civilized conversation then.”

I get all kinds of crazy for clients because my retainer and daily rates are reasonable. Paranoid businessmen hire me because they suspect a partner or a favorite employee is a thief. Neurotic spouses hire me because they see a frequent-flyer for a phone number on the bill from Ma Bell, or odd charges on their dearly beloved’s statement from American Express. Bonnie told me family law was the worst, and I agreed, but it pays the bills.

I’ve listened to more sob stories and provided more free advice than Ann Landers. In short, I’ve handled embezzlement, fraud, infidelity, and on occasion, missing persons, in addition to arson, murder, and narcotics. But this pitch to find a canine—a variation on a missing person or property—was new.

Jimmy, who didn’t like to be called Jimmy, was an extortionist, a murderer, and South Boston’s premier gangster, so it was hard for me to picture him heartsick over the absence of man’s best friend.

He said, “Don’t you have a cat?”

“Delilah.”

“Delilah, that’s right. You would be upset if she went missing, wouldn’t you?” His hand waved, pliers and all. “There’s a name…Delilah, as in Samson and Delilah. A female dog is called a bitch, but I never did learn what they called a female cat.”

“A molly.”

“You know, I’ve never cared for cats. Loyalty issues, moody and temperamental.”

“Rather ironic coming from you. Cats are excellent judges of character.”

“And what do you think your Delilah would say about me, if she could talk?”

“You wouldn’t want to know. Can we wrap this up?”

Delilah, he didn’t know, could talk. Sort of. She blinked once for Yes, twice for No, and meows were extra for emphasis. If she’d seen Jimmy now, she’d turn banshee and caterwaul profanities.

“You want me to find a dog?”

“A dog.”

“Your dog?”

“My dog.”

Jimmy had never been talky, or loud, but he commanded every room he was in with an unnerving silence. He neither drank nor smoked or used drugs. His mother was alive, and he looked after her like a doting son. His brother was successful on the other side of the tracks, in politics, and Jimmy went out of his way not to cast a shadow on frater eius.

“I’m aware that Shane Cleary doesn’t need my money. I know he does all right as a landlord for his Greek friend, with steady income from tenants, and this PI thing is something he does for kicks, to try to make life interesting.”

Those blue eyes sparkled in that truant light while he talked about me.

“Are you suggesting all that could vanish if I don’t take the case?”

“Not at all,” he said. “All I’m saying is I know things about you; things you might not know about yourself, things like personal history, and I don’t mean your falling out with the Boston Police Department.”

“Good to know, but I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“You were too good for them, like you’re too good to work for that dago in the North End.”

“And there it is. I earn my money, and you know it, Jimmy.”

“Yeah, you do. I had to say it before you tell me my money is no good.”

“Money makes the world go round,” I added.

“That’s right. Money does, and it’s all-American as apple pie.”

“I know your story, and you say you know mine. What if I don’t care what you know?”

“I do, and you will care about what I know. Speaking of I do, how come you haven’t asked that lawyer broad you’ve been seeing to marry you?”

“She doesn’t believe in marriage, and none of your business.”

Jimmy was a career criminal, and not someone I would associate with domesticity. Women close to him have disappeared, and yet there was little to nothing in his jacket for other misdeeds, thanks to his agent friend. Any priors going back to his teen years—like larceny, a spatter of robberies with a dash of assault and battery—was smoke on the water.

“Work this one case for me, Shane. It’s all I ask. I’ll pay you your rate and throw in the personal history as a bonus, if you’ll find my dog.”

“Personal history?”

“You haven’t read or seen it. Trust me, this is something you don’t know.”

“You said it yourself. I don’t need the money. As for your teaser about history …what if I don’t care?”

He stared at me. He was Windex and I was dirty glass.

“You will, I promise. That’s your problem in life, Shane Cleary. You care, and this one time, Jimmy is gonna set you straight.”

Jimmy was volatile as a bucket of gasoline, he liked to test boundaries. All he needed was fumes and a lit match. Like the time someone called him Old Blue Eyes in one of the taverns on Broadway. The poor souse probably meant it as a compliment after one too many beers. Jimmy didn’t see it that way. He especially hated Sinatra, the way he detested all Italians, so he stomped the guy’s face in.

His eyes glanced down at the weapon under my arm. The holster was such that the gun pointed up at the armpit. His eyes met mine. “Did you know my old man lost an arm? Crushed between two rail cars. You would’ve liked him, Shane. He was a quiet, proud man, what we would call socially conscientious today He’d clerk here and there at the Naval Yard, but he never worked a full-time job after he lost that arm.”

“Tough break.”

“Our fathers had something in common.”

Being Irish was my first thought, but I waited for it through tight teeth. I wanted to punch him in the face for making any comparison between us. I thought, I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. I wouldn’t lose sleep over it, either.

“We’re alike, you and I,” he said.

“First the teaser and now, flattery. I’ll bite. How do you figure we’re similar?”

“We’re both damaged. You came home from the war changed, like your old man.”

I couldn’t resist. “I went to Vietnam. What’s your excuse?”

That made him smile and say, “Know how we’re alike?”

“Don’t know, Jimmy. Maybe, some people would call us rats: me for my time with the BPD and you, well, you know.”

His face didn’t flinch or register emotion.

“We’re alike because we both believe we’re doing the right thing.”

I waited for the rationalization, how what he was doing with the FBI helped South Boston, his people, the maligned Irish. Jimmy was a psychopath, and his line of thinking was a special aisle at Toys “R” Us.

“I’m doing my part to clear this town of those wop bastards. No different from you cleaning the stables at the Station House, like when you testified against that crooked cop.”

“People within the department were crooked, Jimmy. He killed a black kid and staged the scene. There’s a difference.”

“‘Potato, potahto, tomato, tomahto.’ Say what you will. Call me an informant. A snitch. Call me a rodent with whiskers and sharp teeth, but go look in the mirror, and tell me what you see, Brother Rat. Tell me how we’re not alike.”

“For starts, I was an only child. You weren’t.”

“You’re right. My brother, the smart one, helped me as best he could, like that teacher, that professor helped you.” He snapped his fingers. “What was his name?”

“Lindsey. Delano Lindsey.”

“Did you know I taught myself the classics? I did it, with a library card. See, we’re both strong on initiative and self-education. You look to me like you’re a man hot for Shakespeare. I bet you can quote something from the Bard. How ’bout it?”

“‘The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman.’ Lear.”

Jim wagged a finger. “That’s good, but let’s talk shop now.”

“Talk about your dog?”

“No, personal history. Your old man went the way of Hemingway, didn’t he?”

My blood rose. Several long seconds died between us, about the amount of time it took for one of Ray Guy’s punts to land downfield.

“I’ll let you in on something you didn’t know about the day he did a Hemingway.”

Through clenched teeth, I told him, “I know all I need to know about my father, thanks.”

“Do you? ‘To you your father should be as a god.’ Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

Jimmy rose and took his jacket. He dropped the pliers into a pocket and hung the jacket over his left arm. He inserted the gun into his waistband behind him. I sat there numb, confused, and intrigued. He said his man was outside, waiting in the car. Jimmy drove a black Mercury Grand Marquis.

He reached the door when, against my better judgment, I asked the question that betrayed my interest in the bait, his lure about personal history, “Where was the last place you saw the dog?”

“Roxbury. Dog groomer.”

Jim rattled off the address while my mind tried to picture him dropping off his pet in the black section of town. I had to ask him. “This dog have a name?”

“Boo.”

“As in To Kill a Mockingbird.”

“Righto.”

“One last thing,” I said. “Breed?”

“Poodle. Standard. Black. Studded collar. No tags.”

***

Excerpt from The Big Lie by Gabriel Valjan. Copyright 2024 by Gabriel Valjan. Reproduced with permission from Gabriel Valjan. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:

Gabriel Valjan is the Agatha, Anthony, Derringer, Silver Falchion and Shamus nominated author of the Shane Cleary mystery series with Level Best Books. He received the 2021 Macavity Award for Best Short Story. Gabriel is a member of ITW, MWA, and Sisters in Crime. He is a regular contributor to the Criminal Minds blog. He lives in Boston’s South End and answers to a tuxedo cat named Munchkin.

Catch Up With Gabriel Valjan:
GabrielValjan.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @gvaljan
Instagram - @gabrielvaljan
Twitter/X - @GValjan
Facebook

Photo: Gabriel Valjan, credit Peter Rozovosky

  

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!
Click here to view THE BIG LIE by Gabriel Valjan Tour Hosts.

 

Don't Miss Your Chance to Win! Enter Today!

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Gabriel Valjan. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours


I received a complimentary egalley of this book through Partners in Crime Book Tours. My comments are an independent and honest review. The rest of the copy of this post was provided by Partners in Crime Book Tours.

(My star ratings: 5-I love it, 4-I like it, 3-It's OK, 2-I don't like it, 1-I hate it.)

Thursday, March 14, 2024

Hounds of the Hollywood Baskervilles by Elizabeth Crowens Blog Tour Book Review

 

Hounds of the Hollywood Baskervilles

by Elizabeth Crowens

February 26 - March 22, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

“Sherlock Holmes has lost his dog? We have bigger crimes to solve. Go find him yourself!” That’s what the Los Angeles Police Department told Basil Rathbone. The City Pound ridiculed him as well.

Asta, the dog from the popular Thin Man series, has also vanished, and production for his next film is pending. MGM Studios offers a huge reward, and that’s exactly what young private detectives Babs Norman and Guy Brandt need for their struggling business to survive. Celebrity dognapping now a growing trend, Basil also hires them to find his missing Cocker Spaniel.

The three concoct a plan for Basil to assume his on-screen persona and round up possible suspects, including Myrna Loy and William Powell; Dashiell Hammett, creator of The Thin Man; Nigel Bruce, Basil’s on-screen Doctor Watson; Hollywood-newcomer, German philanthropist and film financier Countess Velma von Rache, and the top animal trainers in Tinseltown. Yet everyone will be in for a shock when the real reason behind the canine disappearances is even more sinister than imagined.

Jump into Hounds of the Hollywood Baskervilles, Book One of the Babs Norman Golden Age of Hollywood Mystery series, Finalist in the Killer Nashville Claymore Awards for Comedy and First Prize winner in the Chanticleer Review’s Mark Twain Awards for Comedy and Satire.

Get ready for its sequel, Bye, Bye, Blackbird, featuring Humphrey Bogart and the cast of The Maltese Falcon.

Praise for Hounds of the Hollywood Baskervilles:

"I heartily enjoyed Elizabeth Crowens latest book HOUNDS OF THE HOLLYWOOD BASKERVILLES. This comedy-mystery is set during the golden age of Hollywood. Crowens’ detectives, Babs Norman and Guy Brandt, believe the case (involving dognapping and other nefarious doings) could put them on the map—especially with a star client like Basil Rathbone and suspects such as Myrna Loy, William Powell, Nigel Bruce, Dashiell Hammett, Lillian Hellman—and more. A nice look behind the scenes of the dream factory known as MGM and Hollywood in its glory days with a delicious whodunit with witty repartee to boot. This book is a real winner."
~ Charles Tranberg, author of MURDER OVER COCKTAILS: THE THIN MAN FILMS

"Move over, Holmes and Watson. Stand aside, Nick and Nora Charles. Make room for PI Babs Norman and her Guy Friday, Guy Brandt! Author Elizabeth Crowens deftly combines humor, excitement, and epic name-dropping in this entertaining adventure set in Hollywood’s Golden Age."
~ Carla Coupe, editor of Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine, member of the Adventuresses of Sherlock Holmes and The Baker Street Irregulars

"Elizabeth Crowens’ Hounds of the Hollywood Baskervilles is a thrilling and hilarious romp through the days of Old Hollywood. If you ever wanted to jump into the screen and spend time with Nick Charles and Sherlock Holmes, this is the next best thing. I, for one, can’t wait for more adventures with Babs and Guy! Delightful!"
~ Phoef Sutton, Emmy Award-winning producer of Cheers, author of the Crush novels, and co-host of the Film Freaks Forever podcast

My Review:


This is a mystery steeped in the 1940s world of Hollywood. Many of the stars of the day make an appearance and there are many references to movies of the time. Babs is an unusual PI, getting into all kinds of trouble trying to find the missing dogs. She manages to alienate her partner then get him back. She is relentless in her bumbling investigation, however, leading to a suspenseful final confrontation.

The plot contains many layers as more than one mystery is included. The story line wanders a bit between the missing dogs and other possible nefarious deeds of war so the narrative becomes a bit confusing. Readers learn some about animals in movies and how they are trained along with many interesting facts about movies and the books upon which they are based.

Crowens' writing style requires concentration as the dialogue is frequently a bit unusual and the plot movement is sometimes fragmented. I often wondered how a scene fit in to the overall movement of the action. I was impressed with the amount of research that must have been done to provide all the references to period people, movies and events.

This is a novel for readers who appreciate an unusual mystery set in the golden time of Hollywood movies. Readers of Sherlock Holmes will also like this historical romp.

 My Rating: 4/5 stars.

Book Details:

Genre: Golden Age of Hollywood Humorous Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: March 2024
Number of Pages: 299
Series: A Babs Norman Hollywood Mystery, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

Flea Circus Hollywood, 1940

Babs bundled Miss Marple in a beach towel. Otherwise, she would get clawed. Her disgruntled partner flinched from fleabites while holding a box of kittens. She looked around the vet’s waiting room to see if she recognized anyone, but all she noticed were an unknown house frau with a French-cut Miniature Poodle, a uniformed nurse with a Cocker Spaniel, and a frumpy elder with a Shirley Temple hopeful hugging her Saint Bernard.

The front door flew open, revealing a tall, thin, but athletic gentleman with his chestnut hair slicked back. His striking profile rivaled classic sculptures, except for the sweat which dripped down his forehead. Under one arm were photostat flyers. Under the other, a folded-up copy of Daily Variety. Both featured photos of dogs.

Guy poked Babs in the ribs to get her attention. “Recognize him?”

She observed the newcomer, who explained his dilemma in haste to the assistant, but most of what Babs could see was from behind. “Who?”

“Rathbone…Basil Rathbone.”

“The actor who plays Sherlock Holmes?”

“Shush. Don’t advertise it to everyone on Sunset Boulevard.”

In a whisper, he disclosed the highlights of the actor’s resume. “That, and Captain Blood, A Tale of Two Cities, Great Expectations, and more, not to mention quite a bit of theater. If we keep it discreet, maybe we can find out why he’s here.”

Basil approached the lady with the cocker and asked if he could scratch him under his chin. “Such a handsome boy. My Leo looks a lot like him, except his coat is a deep red rather than brown.”

He pointed to the bulletin board with listings for lost pets and adoptions and handed the front desk assistant his entire stack. “I’ll have more printed. Please give them to all of your clients. If I can’t find my poor Leo, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Babs saw this as an opportunity to get acquainted. She sprang from her seat, clutching the hissing fuzzball wrapped like a jellyroll. “Maybe I can help in your search.”

Basil narrowed his eyes. “Do I know you?”

“Babs Norman.” She attempted to extend her hand for a proper introduction, but struggled with the snarling feline. “Cast as an extra in The Adventures of Robin Hood.”

“Ah…with Errol Flynn, in the days when the studios always had me play the villain.”

She gleaned from the subtle shift on his face he didn’t care for his co-star.

He eyed her with sudden skepticism. “Refresh my memory. What scene were you in? Almost all parts were male.”

“When Sir Robin of Locksley revealed to Maid Marion that he saved the lives of desperate villagers. I played a peasant wife, but my back was toward the camera.”

“What a shame,” Basil said.

Babs blushed. “I used to be an actress, but not anymore.”

“What do you consider yourself now?” Basil asked.

The vet’s assistant came between them. “Miss, maybe he desires privacy.” He ignored Babs and asked Basil. “Sir, have you filed a report with the pound?”

“I tried, but I have little faith they can help. Everyone laughed and said, ‘Sherlock Holmes has lost his dog!’”

Babs cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. First, she addressed the rude assistant. “Excuse me, but you interrupted us before I could answer his question.” Then she turned to Basil. “The reason I’m no longer an actress is now I’m a private investigator. The gentleman next to me is my associate, Guy Brandt.”

Basil dismissed the employee’s well-meaning intervention. “Such an odd transition from acting. What compelled you to get into that business?”

She lowered her head. “It’s a long story.” He didn’t need to know the truth about her father’s murder. “I also have an acute talent for finding things, whether they are people…or pets.”

“You have an actual private investigator’s license?” Basil asked.

“In my purse.” She tried to fish it out while wrestling with the cat, who broke free from her grasp. Between Guy and another staff member, they corralled the anxious tabby into a handheld cage.

“I’m so sorry.” Babs looked around at the bedlam of barking dogs. “This stray doesn’t want to nurse her kits, and I think she has—”

“Fleas.” Basil scratched his arms. “Looks like we’re both having kittens.”

She also felt an oncoming rash. “Come again?”

“Ha! It’s a peculiar old English expression. People believed a witch’s curse caused painful pregnancies, but instead of a child, they thought the woman had kittens inside her, clawing to get out. Since I’m not expectant, it shows my uncomfortable position in more ways than one.”

Babs flushed; aware this was an awkward introduction for a potential client. Meanwhile, staff members brought the kittens into the back for examination.

She plucked her ID and her business card out of her purse. “B. Norman, Investigations. In case you need proof.”

He put down his copy of Daily Variety to accept her card. Babs swiped his tabloid, attracted by a photo of another dog on its cover.

“Someone else’s dog is missing.” Babs read the article out loud. “Skippy, the wire-haired Fox Terrier known as Asta in the Thin Man movies, has vanished. Production is supposed to start on the next film featuring the lovable detectives Nick and Nora Charles. A one-thousand-dollar reward. No questions asked.”

Guy whistled. “That’s one hefty jackpot.”

Basil looked at her business card one more time. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’ll match that for the return of my red cocker. My wife will think I’m insane. I was offering one hundred.” He showed them his flyers. “For you, as professionals, I guess I’ll make an exception, since now it looks like I have serious competition from producers with studio funds. Is that enough of an incentive?”

“Our agency is on Hollywood Boulevard, close to La Brea,” she said with a confident smile.

“Let’s say I stop over tomorrow on the way to the studio. Perhaps I should trust your expertise if you say you’re so good with animals.”

Babs nodded and forced herself to contain her excitement. “Sir, do you mind if I borrow your newspaper?”

“Keep it,” Basil said. He handed her both his copy of Daily Variety and several of his flyers.

After he left, she turned to her partner. “Who says we can’t go after both Asta or Skippy and Leo?”

The vet returned with the verdict. “There’s no doubt your adult cat has a case of fleas, which might have also infested your furniture. The kittens are another matter. They’re too young to eat food on their own. The obvious issue you overlooked is the adult is not their mama, because she’s a he. Not so obvious with his long and thick matted fur. That’s why he wouldn’t nurse the little ones.”

Babs turned red. “I can’t believe I was so caught up in the moment that I overlooked something that simple.”

“A coincidence, I’m afraid. You must’ve put two and two together when you found this fellow near a box of abandoned kittens,” the vet explained. “The newborns will need around-the-clock attention, and Old Tom will need a few flea baths before he’s ready to go back to anyone’s home.”

Babs grimaced. She looked at Guy and then back toward the vet. “Can’t play nursemaid while running a business.”

“Don’t worry.” The vet reassured her. “Leave them here. My staff will handle it. We’ll find good homes for all of them.”

***

Excerpt from Hounds of the Hollywood Baskervilles by Elizabeth Crowens. Copyright 2023 by Elizabeth Crowens. Reproduced with permission from Elizabeth Crowens. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:

Elizabeth Crowens has worn many hats in the entertainment industry and has a popular Caption Contest on Facebook. She has three award-winning alternate history novels. Awards include 2020 Leo B. Burstein Scholarship from the MWA-NY Chapter, New York Foundation of the Arts grant, an Eric Hoffer Award, Honorable Mention in the Glimmer Train Awards, and two grand prize and five first prize Chanticleer Awards, including Hounds of the Hollywood Baskervilles, the first in her Babs Norman Hollywood series, which is also a Killer Nashville Claymore Awards finalist and part of her three-book publishing deal with Level Best Books

Catch Up With Elizabeth Crowens:
www.ElizabethCrowens.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @ECrowens
Instagram - @crowens_author
Twitter/X - @ECrowens
Facebook - @thereel.elizabeth.crowens

 

Tour Participants:

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I received a complimentary egalley of this book through Partners in Crime Book Tours. My comments are an independent and honest review. The rest of the copy of this post was provided by Partners in Crime Book Tours.

(My star ratings: 5-I love it, 4-I like it, 3-It's OK, 2-I don't like it, 1-I hate it.)

Tuesday, March 12, 2024

Gladwynn Grant Gets Her Footing by Lisa R Howeler Blog Tour Book Review

About the Book

Book: Gladwynn Grant Gets Her Footing

Author: Lisa R. Howeler

Genre: Clean Cozy Mystery

Release Date: July 11, 2023

A little bit of mystery, a dash of romance, and a whole lot of heart

After being laid off from her job as a librarian at a small college, Gladwynn Grant isn’t sure what her next step in life is. When a job as a small-town newspaper reporter opens up in the town her grandmother Lucinda Grant lives in, she decides to take it to get away from a lot of things – Bennett Steele for one.

Lucinda has been living alone since Gladwynn’s grandfather passed away six years ago and she isn’t a take-it-easy, rock-on-your-front-porch kind of grandma. She’s always on the go and lately, she’s been on the go with a man who Gladwynn doesn’t know.

Gladwynn thought Brookstone was a small, quiet town, but within a few days of being there, she has to rethink that notion. Someone has cut the bank loan officer’s brakes, threatening letters are being sent, and memories of a jewelry theft from the 1990s have everyone looking at the cold case again.

What, if anything, will Gladwynn uncover about her new hometown and her grandmother’s new male friend? And what will she do about her grandmother’s attempt to set her up with the handsome Pastor Luke Callahan?

Find out in this modern mystery with a vintage feel.

Click here to get your copy!

My Review

This is an enjoyable cozy mystery. I like Gladwynn as an amateur sleuth. It is her character that makes this cozy mystery work. The transition from being a research librarian to investigative reporter for a small town newspaper makes for fun reading. The mystery is a bit complex and involves a cold case burglary as well as current nefarious activities. The novel is a light read with no heart throbbing suspense nor heartbreaking tragedy.

Howeler adds personal interest to the story by Gladwynn having to face an old boyfriend trying to restore their relationship. Gladwynn also develops good relationships with a few local men indicating the possibility of future romance.

I recommend this cozy mystery. It has fun main and support characters and some good sleuthing by Gladwynn. I look forward to reading about more of her adventures.

My rating: 4/5 stars.

 

About the Author

Lisa Robinson-Howeler is a writer and photographer from Northeastern Pennsylvania, where she lives with her husband and two children, her dog Zooma and her two cats Pixel and Scout. She is a former small-town newspaper reporter. She is also a wife, blogger, and a homeschooling mother. She blogs about fiction, faith, photography, and life.

More from Lisa

I can’t say that Gladwynn Grant’s character is based completely on my grandmother, but, in some ways, I did. I named her Gladwynn after my paternal grandmother who I grew up living over the creek and through the woods from.

Gladwynn was her middle name but I’m not really sure how she spelled it because she never really used it. She usually just wrote G. as the middle initial. When we did a search on Ancestry, we saw that some spellings on her documents were Gladwin and some were Gladwyn. I guess her family wasn’t sure either, but if I remember right (I don’t have the document right in front of me) on her birth certificate it was spelled Gladwin.

I liked the spelling of Gladwynn with a “y” and two “n’s” though so that is how I spelled Gladwynn’s name for the books.

My grandmother was tough and to the point. She wasn’t mean but she didn’t pull punches. She was not super maternal or affectionate. Again, though, she was not mean.

She lived through the Great Depression and raised children during World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War.

Her youngest, my dad, was in the Air Force when Vietnam broke out. He was never sent overseas but he helped build bombs and work on airplanes during that time.

She knew about hardship, trials, and heartbreak. Her husband died of cancer when he was in his 60s and she spent the next 35 years without him. She began to lose her eyesight to macular degeneration in her 80s.

None of what life threw at her stopped her from living her best life.

She still traveled and kept her house and property up. At the age of 86 I caught her on a ladder cleaning out the gutters. Around the same age she marched down the dirt road in front of her house with a walking stick and told the township road workers to make sure the drainage pipe they were putting in didn’t run into her field and flood it.

If she was afraid of things, she didn’t show it very often.

My family lived with her while I was in college and I learned so much about how to preserve and live a happy and fulfilled life despite the tragedies or trials of my life.

When I started thinking about writing a cozy mystery series, I wanted the main character to be a lot like grandma, but also more affectionate and sentimental than my grandmother seemed at times.

I only remember my grandmother telling me she loved me once or twice in my life, but I know she did because she showed it in her actions toward me.

I wrote Gladwynn to be bold and tough, but also to be affectionate and open with her feelings – a lot like my grandmother, but also a little different.

I think my grandmother would love the idea that I am writing a series of books based on her name and partially on her personality.

Blog Stops

Book Reviews From an Avid Reader, March 12

Debbie’s Dusty Deliberations, March 13

Holly’s Book Corner, March 13

Texas Book-aholic, March 14

Devoted To Hope, March 15

Babbling Becky L’s Book Impressions, March 16

Locks, Hooks and Books, March 17

Truth and Grace Homeschool Academy, March 18

Gina Holder, Author and Blogger, March 19 (Author Interview)

Mornings at Character Cafe, March 19

Book Looks by Lisa, March 20

An Author’s Take, March 21

Happily Managing a Household of Boys, March 22

Blogging With Carol, March 23

Pause for Tales, March 23

Lily’s Corner, March 24

For Him and My Family, March 25

Mary Hake, March 25

Giveaway

To celebrate her tour, Lisa is giving away the grand prize package of a $50 Amazon Gift Card and a paperback copy of the book!!

Be sure to comment on the blog stops for nine extra entries into the giveaway! Click the link below to enter.

https://promosimple.com/ps/2a7a8/gladwynn-grant-gets-her-footing-celebration-tour-giveaway


I received a complimentary egalley of this book through Celebrate Lit. My comments are an independent and honest review. The rest of the copy of this post was provided by Celebrate Lit.

(My star ratings: 5-I love it, 4-I like it, 3-It's OK, 2-I don't like it, 1-I hate it.)

Never Fall Again by Lynn H Blackburn Book Review

About the Book:


Landry Hutton has spent three years rebuilding her life behind the secure gates of The Haven, an exclusive resort on the outskirts of Gossamer Falls, North Carolina. After serving as the artist-in-residence, Landry is finally ready to settle in permanently to give her daughter, Eliza, a safe home in which to grow up.


Former Marine Callum Shaw always knew he would someday join his family's construction business in Gossamer Falls. He longs for a family of his own but has almost given up on that ever happening. The beautiful artist who has hired him to build her new house is funny, gifted, and everything Cal could ever want in a partner, but he vows to keep his distance. He's loved--and lost--someone like her before.

When Landry's pottery is destroyed in a suspicious fire, it becomes clear that Landry and Eliza are in grave danger--but from whom? Cal will have to risk his heart again if he has any hope of protecting them.

You can read an excerpt here.

My Review:

This inspirational romantic suspense has an emphasis on romance. The mystery takes a back seat and there is really no suspense until near the end. There is lots of small town drama, however. The romance is very interesting and moves at a reasonable pace. A Christian faith message is included but it is not overbearing.

It's the characters that makes this novel engaging. Both Landry and Cal have been hurt deeply, presenting serious obstacles to romance. I really like how Blackburn created events so the two had to work through their individual issues and be drawn to each other. And my favorite character was Eliza, the little five year old who is a most delightful child.

Blackburn has also added a number of secondary family characters with troubled pasts, people in need of the kind of healing and promise of a future Landry experienced in this novel. I think that means there will be more entertaining novels in this series and I'll be watching for them.

I received a complimentary egalley of this book from the publisher. My comments are an independent and honest review.


My rating: 4/5 stars.

About the Author:


Lynn H. Blackburn
 is the award-winning author of Unknown ThreatMalicious Intent, and Under Fire, as well as the Dive Team Investigations series. She loves writing swoon-worthy Southern suspense because her childhood fantasy was to become a spy, but her grown-up reality is that she's a huge chicken and would have been caught on her first mission. She prefers to live vicariously through her characters by putting them into terrifying situations while she sits at home in her pajamas. She lives in Simpsonville, South Carolina, with her true love, Brian, and their three children. Learn more at www.LynnHBlackburn.com. Photo: Lynette Eason.

Revell, 352 pages.

I received a complimentary egalley of this book from the publisher. My comments are an independent and honest review.

(My star ratings: 5-I love it, 4-I like it, 3-It's OK, 2-I don't like it, 1-I hate it.)

Monday, March 11, 2024

Wet, Warm and Noisy by David Willson Blog Tour Book Review


Wet, Warm and Noisy

by David A. Willson

March 4-29, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A supernatural crime thriller set in Alaska, the Last Frontier...

Surrounded by the unforgiving climate of the frozen north, Jake Ward, a tenacious Alaska State Trooper Investigator and cancer survivor, is on a relentless quest to regain his health and return to full-duty status.

But Ward's world takes a bone-chilling turn during a routine polygraph examination when a woman escapes custody, leaving an officer critically injured. What started as an ordinary investigation transforms into a complex web of intrigue, where medical experimentation and consciousness collide.

In "Wet, Warm, and Noisy," Willson masterfully blurs the boundaries between law enforcement and the supernatural, leading readers on a heart-pounding journey through a realm where the tangible and the mysterious intersect. With time slipping away, can Ward decipher the enigmas that defy reason, or will forces that transcend human experience overwhelm him?

Author David A. Willson, with over two decades of experience as an Alaska State Trooper, brings a rare authenticity to crime fiction that will both enlighten and captivate you. Prepare yourself for an electrifying thriller that challenges the very foundations of our reality.

My Review:

Cutting edge technology uses quantum physics principles, such as quantum computing. But what about the brain? Does the human mind function in the quantum realm? Brains are too wet, warm, and noisy to house quantum activity, it would seem, yet experiments suggest they do.

Willson has crafted a captivating novel exploring the possibility of quantum activity in the brain and doing experiments to investigate the possible advances from studying it. The experiments also explored near death or actual death experiences. Through these experiences, Willson shows the reality of a realm beyond our physical one.

Willson's writing style is an easy one to read and I liked the consistent pace of the action. I recommend this novel to those who would like a good blend of science fiction, mystery, and police procedure blended into lots of suspense.

My rating: 4/5 stars.

Book Details:

Genre: Speculative Crime Thriller
Published by: Seeker Press
Publication Date: March 2024
Number of Pages: 236
ASIN: B0CR4BV1XP
Series: A Jake Ward Novel, 1
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Palmer, Alaska - Today

Cool springtime winds kicked up across the shooting range just outside the Palmer city limits. Behind the long mound of dirty ice and gravel that served as a backstop, the majestic Chugach mountains, half-covered in snow, stood proudly in the distance as two men faced a target stand. The target was cardboard, the outline of a human torso stapled to two upright posts. The men were real, however. One was an Alaska State Trooper firearms instructor serving as range master. The other was Trooper Investigator Jacob Ward.

The shot timer sounded and Ward’s right hand went to his hip. In a fluid motion, his thumb defeated the retention mechanism and his fingers clasped the handgrip to free the .40 caliber Glock pistol from his belt, then pointed it toward the target. At least he hadn’t gotten hung up on the holster this time.

Grip. Clear. Rock-and-lock.

Almost a second had already passed when his left hand moved from its place on his solar plexus to the pistol, completing his grip on the gun. The smack step.

He pushed it forward to the target, closing one eye as he focused on the front sight. The look step.

He imagined his index finger pulling the slack off the trigger as he prepared to deliver two shots, center mass, but couldn’t be sure, because he couldn’t feel it. Not even a bit.

Pop. Pop.

Two shots. One had gone early, and hit wide of the target because his presentation was terrible. It’d been too long since he’d been to the range and the results were showing. Then, of course, there was the other issue.

He aimed the gun higher, focusing on the head of the paper target.

Focus.

His finger started to pull back again when the shot timer beeped again.

Pop.

Too late.

“Overtime,” the range master said, as if Jake didn’t know. It was his third penalty in as many rounds. “First shot went off early, which wouldn’t be a problem if you had a better presentation, but it’s wide. And slow.”

“Yeah.”

“Fingers still numb?”

“Nah,” Ward lied, then turned back and forth, doing his safety scans before inserting a full magazine and replacing the pistol into the holster at his hip. Frustrated and nervous, he needlessly adjusted his hearing protection. A breeze swept across the range, startling him as it brought a chill to his shaved head. Maybe he should have worn something warmer than his State Trooper ball cap, but the blue BDUs and cap were as close to a uniform as he could get until he got approval for full duty. He wanted to feel like a Trooper today. In a bad way.

“Are you pushing this too soon? The Captain is happy to keep you on light duty for a while yet.”

“If I don’t get out here and just do it, I’ll never qualify. Neuropathy or not.”

“True. But with three overtimes already, I’m not sure you’re gonna make any progress with a qual course today.” The burly range master took a step closer, a concerned look on his face. Ward had rarely seen the man show any feeling - he was all business. “Everyone knows you shoot well, but you’ve had a rough go lately. You’ll get there, but not all at once. Let’s ditch the course and do some slow presentations. Dry practice, maybe. Fundamentals.”

But Ward didn’t move, instead squaring up to the target. It wasn’t just the neuropathy and numb fingers. He had weak toes and shaky hands. And shaky confidence. But he wouldn’t get his mojo back by sitting at a desk. And pity didn't help one bit.

“Suit yourself,” the range master said, then let out a huff and took a step back. He paused a moment, then raised his voice back to range levels. “Again, fail to stop drill at seven yards. Five seconds from the holster.”

Ward focused, his eyes drilling a hole in the target where he wanted the shots to hit.

“Shooter ready!”

The timer sounded.

* * *

The drive to work along the Glenn Highway was uneventful, other than a speeder that insisted on doing eighty-five, tailgating everyone who dared occupy their lane. If he’d been driving his assigned vehicle, Ward would have activated his emergency lights and pulled the punk over for a friendly conversation. But light duty status means no Trooper rig unless you have special permission, not even an unmarked one. And no gun, at least until he could qualify.

The occasional wind gust caused Ward’s blue Chevy pickup to sway within the lanes, distracting him from the sound of the political commentary streaming through the truck’s speakers. The talk radio host paused for a news report announcing a shooting at a gas station in Anchorage last night, municipal budget cuts, and something about a missing college kid. There would always be crime, and therefore, plenty of job security.

The traffic got thicker as Ward traveled through Eagle River, Anchorage’s closest suburb, then even worse as he exited off the highway onto Muldoon Road. Muldoon became Tudor Road, and he turned into the parking lot of the Alaska Bureau of Investigation.

He parked the truck and came through the side entrance, stopping at the break room to see if the coffee was rolling yet, hoping that a fellow caffeine addict had beaten him to work today. The empty pot announced no such luck. A few minutes later, he welcomed a steady stream of black goodness into the pot and he was on his way down the hall to the office.

The Alaska Bureau of Investigation’s Technical Crimes Unit was a modest space in a boring, rectangular building in east Anchorage. What happened between those walls, however, was anything but boring. One sergeant, two civilian techs and three investigators were involved in some of the biggest criminal investigations in Alaska. Even when they didn’t have primary case responsibility, they provided critical support to other officers. It was the variety that had attracted Ward to this kind of work. Sure, he had a talent for technology, which helped get the job, but that wasn’t why he was here. What attracted him was the fact that no two days were ever the same. He could write a search warrant for a child exploitation case in the morning, then do a forensic computer exam for a homicide case before lunch. He might kick a door on a building search, only to be called away to sit shotgun in a helicopter, acting as a spotter for a search and rescue. The variety of work duties assigned to an Alaska State Trooper Investigator was unparalleled.

Unless you were on light duty.

“Ward!”

It was Sergeant Ballack down the hall, shouting from his office. Ward got to his feet, snagging his notebook and a pen on the way out of his cubicle. That shout always came with some ‘other duty as assigned,’ or so the trooper saying goes.

As always, the sergeant’s office smelled old, musty maybe. He didn't know if it was Ballack’s bad cologne or his shampoo, but then his sense of smell kinda sucked. Chemotherapy will do that to ya.

The Sergeant turned to face Ward as he entered, grabbing a few papers off his desk as he did so. The man had quite the glorious head of hair and it probably took some pretty fancy conditioner to keep its form, adding a good three inches to his already impressive height.

“Whatcha got for me, boss?”

“Have a seat,” Ballack said. He was impeccably dressed, as always, with a sharp red tie and blue tailored suit. “How ya feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

“Ward, you’re not fine. Cut the crap. Nobody who’s battling pancreatic cancer is fine. Serious. How are you?”

“Surgery went well enough. Chemo is over and my oncologist thinks I’ve got a shot. Neuropathy is getting better every day. I’m ready for full duty, sir.”

“My wife has a friend that works at a cancer clinic. She said you’re not out of the woods till you hit five years. Is that right?”

Heck, I’d love to make it five years. A few months ago, I thought I was toast.

“With pancreatic, it comes back fast, or it doesn’t come back at all. If I make it two years, I’m probably ok.” He didn’t tell him about the other problems, though. Digestive issues causing low energy, the numb fingers and toes, memory lapses, concentration, yada yada. Ya can’t kill cancer cells without killing a lot of other stuff, apparently.

“Don’t rush it, ok?” Ballack put down the papers. “I can keep you busy on light duty for a long time.”

Not the words he wanted to hear, and standing in the Sarge’s office discussing death and light duty, which was almost as bad, tested Ward’s patience.

“What do you have there, Sarge?”

“Polygraph. You game?”

“Absolutely. What’s the case?”

“Palmer patrol picked up some crazy chick on grave shift. Ahem. I mean, ‘a person in crisis.’ She tried to break into a warehouse a couple of nights ago. Then she babbled about being kidnapped, something about a kid, all kinds of nutty stuff.” Ballack rolled his eyes. “I’m thinking poly her, see if she’s cracked. If her claims are legit, we’ll follow up. What do you think?”

“I’ve been looking for some actual police work to do.” He reached for the paper.

“Find out about the kidnapping. If it happened at all. If you get admissions about why she was trying to get into the warehouse, well, that’s really the target.”

“We rarely run polygraphs on victims.”

“She’s full of crap. She’s a doper who tried to rob a building and we want to know why. Poly is a pretext for interrogation on the burg.”

“That’s fine. I haven’t run a poly in months and I’m going blind on all those public information requests you keep handing me. It’ll give me something real to do.”

Ward moved to walk out of the office.

“Ward.”

He turned back.

“Take it easy, son.”

“It’s a polygraph, boss.” Ward furrowed his brow. “I’ll survive.”

“Sergeant Vance told me about the range.”

Crap.

“Don’t push it, Ward. I’m not talking about the polygraph, or the range. Just in general. Bodies take time to heal and you’ve been through hell.”

He has no idea. “Got it, boss.”

“I mean it. We’ll wait for you to be strong.”

Ward bit his lip, trying to hold back, but the pity was too much for his pride. “I got it, ok? Got it. You care. Everyone cares. Don’t rush it. Loud and clear. I’m good.”

Then he walked out of the room.

***

Excerpt from Wet, Warm and Noisy by David A. Willson. Copyright 2024 by David A. Willson. Reproduced with permission from David A. Willson. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:

David A. Willson, a retired Alaska State Trooper with more than two decades of service, brings unmatched authenticity to his crime fiction. During his career, he served as a certified police instructor, polygraph program coordinator, court-certified computer forensics expert and supervisor of both Major Crimes and Technical Crimes units. With over a decade in an investigative capacity, he supervised thousands of felony cases, chasing Alaska’s most dangerous criminals.

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I received a complimentary egalley of this book through Partners in Crime Book Tours. My comments are an independent and honest review. The rest of the copy of this post was provided by Partners in Crime Book Tours.

(My star ratings: 5-I love it, 4-I like it, 3-It's OK, 2-I don't like it, 1-I hate it.)