J. D. Robb's Latest, Golden in Death - Great Twist on the Golden Egg Fable

 

Dr. Kent Abner began the day of his death comfortable and content. Following the habit of his day off, he kissed his husband of thirty-seven years off to work, then settled down in his robe with another cup of coffee, a crossword challenge on his PPC, and Mozart’s The Magic Flute on his entertainment unit. His plans for later included a run through Hudson River Park, as April 2061 proved balmy and blooming. After, he could hit the gym and some weights, grab a shower, have a bite in the café. On the way home, he thought he’d pick up fresh flowers, wander through the market, and get the olives Martin so enjoyed, maybe a nice selection of cheeses. Then he’d meander to the bakery for a baguette and whatever else appealed. When Martin came home, they’d open a bottle of wine, sit and talk and have some bread and cheese. He’d leave the choice of eat in or eat out to Martin, with, hopefully, a romantic ending to the day—if Martin wasn’t worn out. They often joked Kent as a pediatrician handled the adorable babies and charming kids, while Martin as headmaster for a K–12 private academy juggled charming kids with hormonal and broody teens. Still, it worked for them, Kent thought as he filled in 21-Down. Toxic. He spent an entertaining hour with the puzzle, tidied up the kitchen while music filled the air of their townhome in the West Village. Kent changed into his running clothes, added a light hoodie. He packed his gym bag, deciding he’d drop it off in his locker before his run. As he zipped it, the doorbell rang. Humming to himself, he carried his bag out to the living room, set it on the coral sofa he and Martin had chosen when they’d redecorated six months before. Out of habit, he checked the door monitor, saw the delivery girl he recognized with a small package. He disengaged the locks, opened the door. 

He collapsed, convulsing as Mozart’s Queen hit high F.

“Good morning!” “Morning, Dr. Abner. Got a package for you.” “So I see. You just caught me.” He took the package, offered her a smile as the Queen of the Night’s vengeful second-act aria poured out to Bedford Street. “Beautiful day!” “It sure is. You have a good one,” she added before she walked down the steps to the sidewalk. “You, too.” Kent closed the door, studying the package as he carried it back to the kitchen. Since it was addressed to him, he opened the drawer for the box cutter. The return label had a Midtown address and a shop name—All That Glitters—he didn’t recognize. A gift? he wondered as he cut the box. Inside the box, under the packing, another box. Small, simple, he thought, smooth, dark faux wood closed with a small lock, the key attached with a thin chain. Baffled, he set it down, unlocked the clasp. Inside the box, nestled in thick black padding, sat a small—undeniably cheap—golden egg, closed tight with a tiny hook. “All That Glitters,” he muttered, flipped the hook. The lid stuck a bit as he started to lift it. He gave it a harder tug. He didn’t see the vapor, didn’t taste it. But he felt the effects instantly as his throat seemed to snap shut, his lungs clog. His eyes burned, and his well-toned muscles began to tremble. The egg dropped from his fingers as he stumbled blindly toward the window. Air, he needed air. He tripped, fell, tried to crawl away. His system revolted, expelling the light breakfast he’d had with his husband. Fighting through the tearing pain, he tried to drag himself across the floor.

~~~

It's been years since I've read J.D.Robb, who is actually my very favorite author. So when I recently saw an email showing her latest was now out, I decided to take the opportunity to at least renew my interest, and, hopefully, try to catch up with the backlog of books by this prolific writer that I haven't yet read...

So it was a little surprising that, after learning of the first death as soon as I opened the book, that, as the investigation started, I felt the story begin to drag a little. Yes, I'm aware that this is normal in police cases, but I was also anxious to once again feel my own connection with the main character, Eve Dallas, and her spouse, Roarke...

It didn't take long to find the first very important clue, which exploded into lies, deceit, drugs, death and more. The only thing was that a second victim was found which moved the investigation back in time to a private school...

“We believe the package contained an as-yet-unidentified toxic substance.” Lydia’s blue eyes went momentarily blank, then filled with alarm. “You mean like poison or something? Like terrorism or something?”

“We’ll do it. He’s a lit professor at Columbia.” Eve sat back. “Maybe it’s a big stretch to connect that to the headmaster of a private academy, but it’s the only link we have. We’ll come back for the rest of the house,” she decided as she rose. “He’s in class now, according to his schedule. We’ll go to him.”

As soon as I entered the halls (metaphorically learning of the school through the book) of the Theresa A. Gold (TAG) Academy, my mind started to think about the state of our schools today and how children can be manipulated, bullied, assaulted, all under the supervision of those to whom we've placed trust. Teachers, or the Headmaster, as was found at TAG who were involved in allowing these things to occur. Specifically, it was the headmaster who was more concerned about bringing money into the school and cultivating relationships with the parents of the rich students, while those who were there by scholarships were often harassed, one even beaten badly...

And, of course, when some teachers started to complain, that headmaster quickly found another position in a similar school and started her routine activities there...

So that when a new headmaster was named and things began to greatly change, there were many students who soon, for one reason or another, gone from TAG... The atmosphere had been functioning satisfactorily for many years.

Following the money...following the headmaster and students was not easy after eight years. Yet, when a change occurs in the present, then earlier facts of bad behavior of all kinds come to the surface, it doesn't take long to discover the Truth! No matter how long and how deep the earlier transgressions had been hidden only to be found with sufficient evidence to prove the criminal laws that had been broken.

During the investigation, as many rich people became involved, there were, unfortunately, what we have come to expect in America. Those who checked the background of Dallas and Eve and saw no educational backgrounds that could possibly make them peers with those under investigation. As in all of Robb's books, she enjoys (and readers benefit) spotlighting the fact that their backgrounds have brought them both to the success where they are. 

Roarke, of course, although probably known by the intellectuals involved, is soooo rich that he's often building off-planet... He's soooo rich that, often, when Eve has to enter a building on a case, the building is owned by Roarke and she has total access, which often upsets building occupants...

And, yet, Roarke is so in love with Eve, that he ensures her life style is indeed on the same level of class as those who she sometimes...jails! In this novel, knowing that Eve would be talking to those that consider themselves the rich and famous, he purposely pulled together an outfit, along with a long leather coat that would ensure that everybody would understand...

Eve Dallas is somebody you'd better treat right...or you may find yourself next facing Roarke. Not a man to have on the wrong side of your meeting, if you get my meaning!

For me, the characters make the story. So, if you enjoy police procedures, set in the future...don't forget to search for J. D. Robb, Aka Nora Roberts! I applaud her for effectively illustrating what a life of lying can lead to... 

Robb has taken a major issue direct from headlines and presented a wonderful novel, spotlighting the growth of lying as a routine part of daily life. Given the title, I felt led to share a little more directly from the book. If you recognize the words as what you've heard, then you may want to think hard about your family and friends and their communication with you.

Eve shifted when the elevator stopped to let more people on. “The lying’s autopilot with him, and not very skilled. He lies about the obvious and inconsequential, so by the time he gets to the big stuff it’s just red-faced blather.” A woman in a business suit and sunshades glanced at Eve. “Sounds like my ex-husband. Some people plan a lie. Others?” she continued as the doors opened to let yet more people on. “It’s involuntary instinct, like breathing.” “Tell me about it,” someone else piped up. “I dated this guy once who’d lie if you asked him his name. He just couldn’t help himself.” One of the new passengers let out a snort. “It’s worse when they believe the lie—convince themselves it’s true, keep beating you over the head with it until you start wondering if you’re the one who’s crazy.” “They all sound like my ex,” the first woman commented as the doors opened on the lobby level. “He gets around,” Eve said, and heard the woman laugh as she and Peabody strode to the doors. “That was interesting,” Peabody decided as they walked back to the car. “Lying liars unite strangers in elevator. Dateline New York.” “Everyone knows at least one lying sack.” “That’s really true. I’ll check his alibis to see if they were a crock, too. Being such a crappy liar, he’s never going to be even...halfway decent...  “Add deeply stupid. A lying sack who can’t lie worth crap, and a complete schmuck.” “His lies aren’t holding.” Mira glanced toward the interview room door. “So he’ll shift them. I suspect he’ll shift any blame.... “Yeah, I’m with you there.” “He feels entitled to lie, as he was entitled to punish those who offended or betrayed him—or who simply became inconvenient. He doesn’t fully recognize, certainly doesn’t respect, your authority over him. And it infuriates him. He has no feelings of guilt or remorse, even doubt, to trip him up. It’s his anger that will.”

Folks, I know from time to time we might purposely choose to tell a "white lie" so that we don't hurt somebody's feelings. But when it is being shown that politicians as well as judges within our government have cultivated a climate of lies, we need to act to call them out whenever possible! 

One question: Do you mind if your children and/or family members lie to you?

Think and Choose 

Hold Liars Accountable

God Bless

Gabbie