Behcet Kaya Presents Murder at Tutley Brewery - A Fascinating, Extraordinary Set of Events! A Jack Ludefance Novel!

 

“The other day I wanted to buy some music, so I went over to Lenox to a music store. I asked if they had any Otis Redding tapes, and the guy at the counter just stared at me. “He finally said, ‘Uhmm, I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have any tapes.’ “So, I came back with, ‘What do you mean you don’t have tapes? This is a music store, isn’t it?’ “He tried not to sound snarky, but it still came off that way. ‘Yes, of course we sell music, just not on tape. Tapes were replaced, oh, maybe nine years ago. Music’s on compact discs now. How long has it been since you bought any?’ “I felt completely deflated, ‘Obviously too long.’ I was so embarrassed I just turned around and walked out. That’s what I’m trying to say. I’ve been so caught up in solving crimes that I’ve fallen behind. I don’t even know how to catch up anymore.” “Maybe. But I don’t think it’s that bad. And I’m not sure what that has to do with what we’re working on.” “I see the connection clearly, Ludefance. I’m so out of touch I didn’t even realize pimps operate openly now. I didn’t know that escort services are considered legitimate businesses. That’s what I meant. Anyway, let’s get out of here while we still can.”

January 19, 2022 The night watchman had lost count of how many times he had circled the second-floor observation walkway that night. Although the storm had begun to subside, the wind still howled outside, heavy rain lashed against the building, and lightning struck so close it shook the platform beneath his feet. As he approached the first row of fermentation tanks numbered one, two, and three on his final round, he noticed the fluorescent light above tank three had burned out. “Shit, now I’ve gotta change a friggin’ light.” Swearing under his breath, he climbed down the narrow stairs to the first floor. As he gathered the necessary equipment, he continued muttering, “Friggin’ past time for this old building to be torn down and replaced. So what if it was built in 1913? So what if it’s considered historic? So what if it still has the original fluorescent lighting? GD! Don’t they know what a pain it is to change them when they go out?” Still grumbling, he climbed back up, replaced the light, and switched it on. 

Out of the corner of his eye, something faintly blue caught his attention. He looked down into the tank and gasped. A body lay face down, floating atop the fermenting liquid, long dark hair spread out around it. What had once been a bright blue dress was now darkened by the liquid, and the shoeless feet were beginning to sink. Shaking, he climbed down once more and grabbed the emergency phone, preprogrammed with his boss’s number. He knew there was no time to waste. Jacob Wasserman, lead foreman at Tutley Brewery in Tutley, Georgia, received the call early that Wednesday morning, January 19, 2022. The night watchman’s urgent report of a body floating in tank three triggered a profanity-laced tirade. Wasserman arrived within ten minutes. Stepping out of his haphazardly parked car, he hurried past several idling 18-wheelers that had arrived early to transport the fermented liquid to another facility for bottling. He knew he would have to deal with them later. There would be no transfers from the fermentation tanks today. 

As he entered the building, he glanced up at the towering tanks, each nearly two stories high. Even in the midst of the emergency, the sight of the stainless steel structures never failed to impress him. There were fifteen in total, covering an area nearly the size of a half an acre. The pungent smell was strongest inside but could be detected miles away. This ground-floor area also housed the temperature controls, keeping the tanks at a steady 72 degrees Fahrenheit for the brewery’s prized golden craft ale. The night watchman approached, quickly recounting what he had found. Choosing the narrow metal stairs to the second-floor observation walkway instead of the vertical ladder welded to the tank, Wasserman made his way up to the platform. As he peered into the opening of tank three, he saw the body, the bare feet now under the surface. Another string of curses escaped him as the heavy scent of fermenting grain hit him full force. He cursed himself for not putting on a mask before climbing up. He descended as quickly as he could and picked up the phone by the front entrance, which connected directly to the brewery’s business office complex less than a five-minute walk away. Despite the early hour just before 6 a.m. he knew the Wein siblings, Hardy, Wolfram, and Wilhelmina, would already be in their offices. Hardy answered, listening as Wasserman quickly explained the situation, then instructed him to keep everyone out of the building. There would be no employees allowed in the building today. 

Wasserman stepped outside to get some much-needed fresh air. As Hardy and Wolfram approached, he frowned. “Where’s Wilhelmina?” Hardy replied, irritation evident in his voice, “No idea. Her office is locked, so she obviously hasn’t come in yet. Let’s go up and take a look.” All three donned masks and climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor. 

Looking down into the tank, Wolfram was the first to voice the unthinkable. “That’s Wilhelmina’s blue dress!” “It can’t be! Are you sure?” Wasserman’s voice cracked with shock. “Yes, I’m sure! She was wearing that dress when I said goodnight to her last night! We’ve got to get her out of there!” Hardy immediately dialed 911, notifying the local sheriff. With no time to waste, he called for a heavy forklift to be brought in, delaying the recovery effort by nearly fifteen minutes. In the meantime, the two-story double doors were opened wide to allow the forklift to be positioned near tank three. 

As the sun began to rise, Tutley County Sheriff Tom McFee arrived with Deputy Cal Jackson, Detective Hucksley Bail, Coroner Jim Bailey, and a photographer. Leaving their car doors open, they hurried toward the scene just as the forklift was put into position. No other vehicles would be allowed in the parking lot today.

~~~~~~

No other fingerprints? No unidentified fingerprints? How could that be? How could an unknown suspect have been in her office and not left any fingerprints? And how could that person have lifted and carried her without leaving a trail of blood? Despite these unanswered questions, a scenario began to take shape in my mind. Murder by severe head trauma. The location was her own office. The suspect was unknown. Premeditated? Or possibly an accident triggered by an argument, one violent enough to shatter several priceless antiques? Then, her body was carried to the fermentation building and dumped into the tank. Carried. Not driven. But why?

This just might be the best book written by Behcet Kaya. Of course, I've been know to quip that my favorite book is the one I'm reading now, so don't hold me to the fact that I found this a fascinating, extraordinary book from an author I've been reading since his first book was published. Nor that on the night before a major medical procedure, I couldn't stop reading until I finished this, even though I had to be at the hospital the next morning around 6 AM...

Kaya has the wonderful ability to move from one book to the next while creating a totally new and different chain of events that stops readers cold. What will happen in this latest?! And I must say that this book wins the prize for storyline. Yet, in some ways, it's right from today's headlines if you think about it...

Kaya hit me cold with concern when his main character was adamant that he was not going to take a case! After a case in which he'd been physically incapacitated and decided to take a lengthy time off, he still felt he didn't want to return to a case where he might get into a similar situation... And, when he had the call from the owner of a beer brewery he immediately explained that he wasn't taking cases.. But the owner had done his research of who he felt could find the answer to who had murdered his granddaughter, and he kept calling... It was only when his own family started pressuring him to return to what "he loved" that he changed his mind. It was clear, however, that he resented his family for taking the position they had.

Detlef Wein Jr. Please! Please do not hang up on me this time.” It was the same voice, the one that was now starting to wear on my nerves. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “Mr. Ludefance, just hear me out. I am calling because nothing in my life is more important than finding out who murdered my granddaughter.” The desperation in his voice was unmistakable. “Sir, you need to understand. As I told you before, I no longer take cases. Period. End of conversation.” I ended the call and immediately blocked the number. Honestly, some people have a lot of nerve.

Kudos to Ben because even I saw the difference in his main character and his desire not to return to his role as a private investigator and was hoping that he didn't plan to close out this series (I peeked and saw that there was another coming, LOL) In any event, after he had met with the owner and decided to take the case, he had learned that there might be a connection with another family in Germany who had been a competitor and bad family feelings.

Then, readers learn that his granddaughter had been placed as head of the company, while two brothers were also given high positions. As we continue reading, both brothers had quite different issues which might have played a part in how they felt about their sister. Their parents had died so the owner, who was now in his 90s had moved to try to get the hierarchy established in a timely fashion. Me, I was already wondering about family relationships at that point.

And, right there is where Behcet placed a major twist that could shake the entire plot... What?! 

So while investigations continued on the possible brewery competitors, the investigation took an entirely different angle. And Jack was forced into exploring the personal lives of each of the three siblings much deeper than had been planned.

And that's when an entirely different plot twist was revealed. Actually, I didn't first see where the book was going, but once I did, the revelations related to certain files that are now being discussed and sought after to be released by the government soon was identified as, perhaps, how the choice of actions took shape by Kaya...

This is the type of book, however, where any revelation other than the previous paragraph, could be a problem, so I'm closing out discussion of the mystery and investigation as it moves further.

Jack Ludefance takes on a different personality during this book... Set during Covid, he had easily stopped accepting cases, so much so that, he had begun to appreciate being able to stay home and become closer with his child. In fact they had become so close that when he finally had taken this case and would need to travel, he would ensure that he spent face time with his child. Was it a combination of Covid, plus being given drugs without his knowledge, that began him thinking about retiring from acting as a Private Investigator? In any event, readers spend more time with his introspection than perhaps normal. There are several times when he flashes back to other cases that we learn about at an overview level. And we meet with one of his contacts with whom he'd worked in the past... From that individual, Jack learns a secret that shocks him and he becomes agitated as to whether this should be revealed to his client... I enjoyed getting to know internal thoughts of our main characters as he faced each extraordinary set of events that were revealed during the murder investigation.

Indeed, the amount of personal revelation was so high that readers will watch as he ponders just how he will present his findings--and to whom. One character, in particular, had admitted to an early sexual affair which ultimately led to being able to close the case. However, again, there was a request to ensure confidentiality of what he'd learned. In one important way, readers are placed into the character, Jack, as we wonder just what we would do, if we were an investigator, and had become so intimately involved with those involved with the murder. So much so that I was still worrying about whether this was a series heading for a possible ending... The author had several ways in which he could have closed this case and still meet the requirements of identifying the murderer...

I was gratified that I agreed with everything that Kaya chose to have as endings for his various characters--that were exactly what I wanted to see happen.  No wonder I've turned to Behcet (Ben) Kaya as a favorite author who I do want to keep reading! Congratulations for a story that is both important in content, as well as a murder mystery/PI case that keeps readers on the edge as we strive to determine the whodunit, as well as an ending that closes out every single event that came along... This is a personal favorite for me! Kudos to the author!

GABixlerReviews

Susan Kiernan-Lewis Presents Deadly Faux Pas: A Page-turning mystery set in Paris!

 With its reputation as the most romantic river in the world, the Seine always felt like a surprise to Catherine with its fetid odor and murky olive-green color. She remembered reading that the river flowed into the sea, but as stagnant and listless as it always looked to her, she found it hard to believe that it had enough force. She let Todd lead the way to the table since she knew things like that were important to him. He’d spoken very little on the cab ride over. She would’ve preferred to walk—the weather was hot but it felt good on her skin. Unfortunately, her mother had mentioned it was a nice walk and that was all Todd needed to hear to insist on calling for a taxi.

Here I am sitting

in one of my favorite

places in the whole

world: Aix-en-Provence.

From the author:

The Claire Baskerville Mysteries

I have been wanting to write a mystery centering around a “woman of a certain age” since the day I turned sixty! Claire Baskerville is suddenly widowed and finds herself living in Paris where the dead bodies fall out of the ancient elevator shafts and antiquated wardrobes just enough to keep her and her burgeoning private eye business for the ex-pat community very busy. A tad darker than the other mysteries, this is Paris today and a woman who knows herself and is still open to discovering the world around her. And no, I’m not stopping any time soon. Claire’s adventures have been loosely outlined for another three books past Book 12 AT LEAST. I love this series and don’t see myself stopping writing it any time soon.

Since I'll never be able to visit Paris in my lifetime, I am sure, I wanted to at least set the stage for this book series, which I am going to highly recommend on the basis of this one book... It is clear that the author enjoys writing and sharing, through her travels via her blog as well as through the various series that she writes about...

This particular book caught my attention for many reasons... For instance, the characters include a dominating husband, a kidnapper who becomes enamored with the woman he kidnapped... And then there are two older women who, in this book, are reunited with family from America at the same time, and so become totally involved with the murder mystery that evolves... There is plenty of both turmoil in romantic relationships as well as an extraordinary familial come together when an emergency occurs of people mostly who are friends as opposed to family...

I've purposely chosen the video of a street walk, because the majority of the book will be walking those streets...endlessly trying to find the one kidnapped! But it didn't really start out like that...

You see, the daughter, grandson and son-in-law of our main character, who happens to be a PI working in Paris, has come to visit after many years. One of the problems was the timing, since Covid was touring the world and there was fear, especially by Todd, the son-in-law that they may be forced to stay in France as things are studied... On the other hand, it was clear to those who were at the apartment when they got there, that there was considerable tension within the family. One of the issues that had arisen was that Catherine was interested in adopting Robbie, the son of her mother's husband who had died in an accident. Todd opposed this action. Yet, when they first entered the apartment, their son immediately joined Robbie in playing and all things that boys want to do...

Finally after several attempts to smooth out the events, it was suggested that Todd and Catherine plan a dinner out on their own--which should have worked. Except that, even at the table, Todd kept his eyes close to his phone. And in a sudden explosive act, Catherine grabbed the phone out of his hands and read a short note that was clearly personal to Todd from another woman. Let's face it, if you don't think Todd deserved to be put on the defense, then you, too, may just be a chauvinist! My personal opinion, of course... LOL

In any event, Catherine exploded and a loud argument commenced which was watched by those in the restaurant that evening. Until Todd got up and walked out... And Catherine was left there, not know whether to wait, to leave... And, finally, the decision was made for her...

Only to be murdered that evening... and thrown in the Seine!

And Catherine  then kidnapped by the same man who claimed that her son was in trouble and he had been sent to bring her quickly to him... The truth was that Cameron was quite safe and at home with his grandmother... What she hadn't been told was that Todd had been murdered during the actions leading to the kidnapping of Catherine... And Catherine was torn as to why Todd was not finding her quickly as days went by...

Since the Parisian police thought that Catherine had killed her husband and escaped with the man who was escorting her off the ship, they weren't really interested in changing their opinions and did little to try to find her... It was up to her mother, who at least had come to know the streets of the area around th dock and soon as gathering as much about the people who were on the cruise that night, and what they had done thereafter. Interestingly a man who

My daughter is tenacious. I prayed that stubborn trait was still there inside her somewhere. I prayed that the girl who’d stood on that stage all those years ago, that unlikely award in her hand and that determined expression on her face, was still alive and roaring somewhere in this city.

Claire Baskerville was over 50 and normally able to arrange her professional activities within her own schedule. But now everything was in emergency mode and the only one Claire felt she could really depend upon was herself. She trudged up and down streets showing pictures, talking to anybody who would listen. Once in a while she had help from Jean-Marc a police officer who had worked on her husband's murder case... Genevie, her close friend and neighbor, who had her son and partner visiting from America that week also, had volunteered to help search, while one friend of Claire's from the police fit in support between her own duties... Still, it was right up to the last minute... as Covid controlled times allowed on the streets or when those now kept inside Paris were allowed to begin leaving... Desperation and fear walked beside Claire, while she knew that others were beginning to feel little hope... Could she find her daughter?! Could she bring Cameron's mother home, as he continued to grieve his father?

 

“A son and his mother have a special bond,” she said. “Stop. Please.” “And yet you used this love—the love of a mother for her son—to trick me.” He looked at her and he was stricken. “Don’t apologize to me again,” she said. “Don’t embarrass us both. Don’t humiliate your mother who is looking on you right this—” “Stop it!” he shouted and jumped up. “A boy needs his mother! My husband can’t do it! My husband needs me!” “Not anymore, he doesn’t!” The minute he spoke Catherine felt a ripple of ice-cold fear slice into her. Rashid looked at her from across the table with haunted eyes, his shoulders slumped as if trying to make himself smaller. “What did you mean by that?” she asked. He picked up his plate and retreated to the kitchen. Catherine stood up slowly at her place at the table. “Answer me, Rashid!” she screamed. “What do you know? Where is my husband?” When he didn’t answer, Catherine picked up her plate and flung it toward the kitchen. He ran back to the table and stared at her, his hands going up as if in an attempt to calm her. “Look, it was an accident,” he said desperately.

Except…I felt a wave of hopeless longing and defeat shudder through me. Except, I am desperate. I am a desperate mother who is willing to sacrifice anyone and everyone for the chance—no matter how paltry—to try to recover her child. “Chérie? I am at the hospital now,” Geneviève said. “I will call you when I have news.” She hung up before I could uselessly apologize one more time. I looked at my phone intending to call Adele…and I hesitated. I was calling her to tell her what? To stop? To go home? I couldn’t do that. I needed her. Now more than ever. My phone rang and I saw it was Jean-Marc. I answered. “Did you hear?” I asked him. “Yes, chérie. He is in surgery. Where are you?” “I’m about a block from where I was yesterday,” I said looking around. I thought about telling him about the text message but decided to wait until tonight. What was the point of telling him since I was determined to carry on anyway? “They think the assailant was an ex-boyfriend of Noel’s,” I said. “I overheard the detective saying they were going to put security on Geneviève’s apartment—” “Non,” Jean-Marc said. “They have located the ex-boyfriend.” I felt a flinch of annoyance. Clearly the police can move quickly when they’re motivated. “He was in Cyprus at the time,” Jean-Marc said. “Which means no security for Geneviève,” I said feeling a wave of exhaustion. “Unfortunately, not. Listen, I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Abadi might have tried to replace the car he had to abandon.” “What are you suggesting?” “Nothing really. I’m just thinking out loud.” “You think he might have bought another car? So he’ll be ready to get out of Paris when the lockdown lifts?” That made sense. I felt a flare of energy and hope at the thought. Any new idea helped. Jean-Marc must have picked up on the excitement in my voice. “Claire,” he said in a strained voice, “is there any way you can stop?” “What do you mean stop? How can you even ask me that? The lockdown lifts in just a few hours!” “You must see how the warnings are ramping up, non? This was not a beating this time. Bill may not survive!” “You think I don’t know that?” “Claire, listen to me,” Jean-Marc said. “You cannot find Catherine. It is too late! But you can get yourself killed.” Or Adele. He didn’t say it because he didn’t have to. Clearly even without my telling him about the ominous text message, he had figured out that the attack on Bill was connected to what we were doing. What I was doing. “I have to go, Jean-Marc,” I said. I broke the connection and found Adele’s number and as my eyes filled with tears, I pressed the number. “Are you here?” she asked breathlessly. “I’ve already done a full block.” “Adele, You need to stop and go home.” “Why? Have you found her?” “No, but Noel’s husband has been attacked and I’ve been sent another message. It’s too dangerous.” I heard Adele snort and I loved her for it even while my chest filled with terror at the danger I was putting her in. “I’m not quitting,” she said. “Did you want to meet up and grab a bite or just keep going?” I was so overcome with emotion at her bravery and loyalty to me that at first I couldn’t speak. “Keep going,” I said finally. 

I walked through the next few hours with Jean-Marc’s ominous words of warning reverberating in my skull. You cannot find Catherine. It is too late. That, combined with the new inclination to look over my shoulder every few seconds made me jumpy and on the verge of panic. But I couldn’t help myself. Without Noel and Bill’s help—and I felt ashamed even thinking those words—I had an impossible area to cover. It had been largely impossible even with their help. How does one measure the limits of impossibility? How can you determine the scope of something to be even more impossible than it already was? As I walked the hot sidewalk I felt like I was going through the motions of walking and knocking on doors because the alternative—either sitting with Geneviève and Noel at the hospital or watching cartoons back at my apartment with the children while I waited for the inevitable bad news to find me—was unthinkable. An elderly woman operating a streetside crêperie told me she thought she remembered seeing someone “different” in the neighborhood. I nearly jumped across the counter when she said that. She even described this newcomer as a Middle Eastern man, good-looking, of medium height, but she had no idea which way he went. And he hadn’t actually visited her crêpe stand. She’d simply noted him as he walked by. Telling me he’s here somewhere is not news. I know he’s here. “How did he walk?” I asked. “Did he stroll? Or walk quickly? Purposefully? Did he look tense?” She gave me a look that said she clearly thought I was insane. But it mattered. A man strolling by enjoying the day was not my man. Somebody who looked like he was just out for an espresso and a newspaper wasn’t someone who was holding a woman hostage in a nearby apartment. After that I decided to modify my questions to include affect but it didn’t matter. Nobody except the woman at the crêperie remembered seeing anyone new or different on the street. Amazingly, in spite of the heat and my mushrooming fear of an attack, I didn’t feel the weariness and physical strain that I’d felt yesterday. It was as if my body wasn’t going to recognize anything like blisters or leg cramps as the reason why I didn’t search as far and wide and as long as humanly possible. I resisted looking at my watch because, whenever I did, my brain automatically translated the time into how many hours I had left. …how many hours Catherine had left. My phone buzzed while I was leaning against a stone wall, resting. I was so involved in my desperate mental world of search and probable loss that I jumped in surprise and looked at my phone as if it were a foreign object It was Adele. “Hey,” I said to her. I appreciated that she didn’t ask me if I’d had any luck. Obviously she’d have heard from me if I had. “I’ve finished my streets,” she said. “Do you want to give me Noel and Bill’s?” I’d been mulling that over and decided I had a different job for her that was at least as important. “Jean-Marc thinks Abadi might have acquired another car in anticipation of the lockdown lifting,” I said. There was a pause on the line. “Do you want me to try and find it?” Adele asked. Even on the phone I could hear the misgiving in her voice. “I want you to look at the cars parked on the street where you are,” I said, “and jot down the license plate numbers—unless you see somebody getting out of one who could not possibly be our man.” “Are you sure you don’t want me to knock on doors instead?” she asked doubtfully. I knew it sounded like a long shot. I knew I was asking her to finish her day with literally nothing to show for it. “I’m sure,” I said, knowing that the one thing I was sure of was that I was sure of nothing...

~~~

A Perfect Murder Mystery--because Claire knows who is behind it all...Will it work out that nobody will hurt Catherine?

GABixlerReviews

Kiernan-Lewis, Susan. Deadly Faux Pas: A page-turning mystery set in Paris (The Claire Baskerville Mysteries Book 6) (pp. 237-241). San Marco Press. Kindle Edition. 

The Dynamic Duo Has Blasted Us With Their Latest! Seriously Serial Murders! A Ricky Burns Mystery By C. K. Laurence and Jerry Lyons - WOW!!!

 

Ricky pulled himself out of bed at nine the next morning. He could smell bacon and eggs and hear Collette softly singing “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” How can she possibly be so cheerful after last night, Ricky wondered. When he’d arrived home, they’d had a marathon of lovemaking. The second he’d fallen into bed, exhausted....he thought he could get right to sleep. Collette turned to him, leaned in to kiss him, and that was all she wrote. All that pent up sexual tension from the club exploded and he couldn’t get enough of her. It had to be five o’clock when they’d finally gone to sleep. ​Driving home last night he’d run what was ahead of him today through his head. He had to talk to Jay about the glass and the DNA. Hoping it wouldn’t end in disaster, he’d finally decided to suggest they talk to Bill and Carol about running the DNA. After breakfast, he was going to call Jay to see what he was up against. ​Collette came into the bedroom just as he finished dressing. ​“What a night,” she smiled. ​“It was amazing, You’re the best!” ​“No, you are, but let’s not argue. I made breakfast.” ​“I smelled it. I’m starving.” ​“Good, because it’s ready and I don’t want it to get cold” ​He followed her into the dining room where the table had already been set. They both sat down and after a few bites, Ricky decided to run his plan by Collette. ​“Babe, I got DNA last night. I want to give it to Bill or Carol to have it checked out, but I have to talk to Jay first. I’m going to tell him that I got it and the only way to find out if there’s a match with Tso’s ex is to have his permission to do it.” ​“When he says ‘no’ what are you going to do?” ​“I have an idea and I hope he’ll give me the chance to tell him.” ​“What kind of an idea?” ​“I thought we could take it to Tso and let him decide.’ ​“Whoa. That could end in disaster.” ​“I know, but I’m in a no-win situation. If I have it run without talking to him and it’s a match, I’m going to have to tell Jay and there’d be hell to pay. If there’s no match, I wouldn’t even have to say anything.” ​“True. You’re right, though. You’ve got to run it by him before you give it to Bill and Carol.” ​“I know. I’m going to call him when we finish breakfast. These biscuits are incredible. Pillsbury?” ​“Nice. No, not Pillsbury. Collette’s special recipe for my special man.” ​“You’re the best!” ​After they’d finished breakfast and he’d helped Collette clean up, he went into his office and made the dreaded call to Jay. As expected, Jay refused. Not too proud to beg, Ricky pleaded with him. Finally, he suggested they go to the jail and meet with Tso...

~~~

And another Wow!!! This dynamic duo has moved forward in their latest book, Seriously Serial Murders! Soooo, I'm now thinking this fantastic series is going onward and upward and in for a long run!

So I want to begin by properly introducing the main characters... The series features Ricky Burns, a PI as the main character. In my mind he is exactly the type of individual who should BE in law enforcement. Mainly because he wants justice and that means the individual who is guilty should be charged and punished. In this book, Ricky's search for the truth places him in a difficult situation. Why? Because he works for a defense attorney... And, in seems to me, the defense attorney never really wants to know the truth, just how to get his client off... Ricky agrees!

Jay is his boss and has notified Ricky that they have a new client. Not only has the client paid Jay in advance $50,000, but has also provided a $10,000 payment for an investigator... Frankly, both Jay and Ricky, while being thrilled with this, are also wondering just why this man has acted to be prepared if he is not guilty...of something...

Collette plays a double role. She worked for Jay when Ricky came into the picture. But now holds Ricky's heart and they are living together on a houseboat! Cool, right?!

But there is a serial killer in the area, killing women--women who are of a certain type--each one seemingly prettier than the last one... The MO is consistent, even to leaving a small plastic heart... And kills are escalating!

The book opens with Ricky playing darts with two of his best friends, who are cops he has met since he moved south and left his job as a NY homicide cop. Bill Sewell and Carol Brooklyn are good cops and they have worked a few cases with Ricky in the past. 

This time, however, Jay is hyper about maintaining client confidentiality, while Ricky is struggling with his own doubt about their "client." Why put out $60,000 and not explain? And Bill and Carol are both on the serial killer case as it is near Spring Break when all college students head to Florida for fun and games.

When another murder takes place, they found the man and arrested him immediately. The mayor announced they had their serial killer... but it was a copycat! And two more women were found dead with the original MO... The mayor had to spin his tale to the news staff as they were crying out for information!

Then the case got a break, the condom had been found inside one of the women recently found, apparently having been lost as the killer finished his assault...

And, suddenly it all fell apart as the DNA test showed that an Asian was the killer, but was not it their database...

And Jay and Ricky looked at each other, knowing that their...client...was...Asian...

I could not stop reading! I suffered along with Ricky as he struggled with his own moral code to seek justice for the victim... But, then, as he investigated,  information was confirmed that their client was out of town during the last two murders... But sooner or later, the fact that he was one of the few Asians in this area, just might mean he would be questioned.

Did Ricky follow his heart or would his boss tell him to ensure their new client was protected under the law...

Reading a book all the way to the last page is rare for me... And, I have to tell you, when I did, I was lying in bed reading the last sentence and I began to laugh wildly! Sure glad I don't live with anybody! Laurence has allowed herself to write as the book needed to be told and it shows that she's moving into a must-read author. She notes in her bio that she's tried many things through her life and just lately she's tried writing. Well, I'm finding that she's a natural at it! This book shares the dialogue, the situations, and the people that are encountered with criminally-minded people are encountered in daily life. She doesn't hold back anything, as it should be... And, indeed, it makes this book the best fiction I've read this year! Obviously, it's a personal favorite for me...

But for readers of mystery, true crime, with a touch of appropriate sexual encounters, Laurence has taken the story of the Real Ricky Burns, Jerry Lyon, and presented avid readers with a page-turner that will ensure you, too, will read it through once you get started! High praise for this solid thriller that keeps you guessing. I was fairly certain early on what was happening, but that is only because of the way the writer presented the case... Thank YOU Dynamic Duo for a series that keeps on providing great stories directly from the headlines!

GABixlerReviews

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Lauren Carr Presents New Series, The Prime Suspect--Includes New Setting! New Characters! But Same Great Mysteries!

 

Sam’s mouth dropped open. “Cat had a sister who had committed suicide?” “It was maybe a couple of months before Cat disappeared. She told me she had postpartum depression. I guess Haley resented Cat for not doing more to help their sister, or maybe she wanted Cat to share in taking care of her baby.” “What about the baby’s father?” “I don’t think he was in the picture.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just guessing. Cat never really told me anything except that her younger sister had a baby and she hung herself a few weeks later. Haley took in the baby. We never saw or heard from Haley. If it were me, I would have interrogated the roomies to find out what happened.” She shook her head. “Haley never even picked up Cat’s stuff after the semester ended. It was another girl, a childhood friend, who came to the apartment to clear out her stuff.” 

Sam wrote notes of what she was saying in bullets down the length of the page. “What was the friend’s name?” Bryce narrowed her eyes. “I don’t remember. I only met her once.” He flipped to a blank sheet in the notepad. “What did you find when you searched Cat’s room?” “All of her toiletries and makeup were there. So was her school stuff. She wouldn’t have gone to the Outer Banks without her makeup and toiletries.” She jumped when she recalled, “Her laptop was missing. I couldn’t find that.” “You have a good eye for detail.” He shot her a grin of approval. “She would not have gone to the beach without her toiletries.” “I was the one who reported her missing. Would I have done that if I’d killed her?” “You’d be surprised how many killers report their victims missing to throw off suspicion.” He held up his hands. “Just saying.” He shook his head. 

“What motive would you have to bury your roommate under a statue?” “Seriously? Do I look like a maniac?” “I don’t know.” Sam looked down at Cleo. “Does she look like a maniac to you?” Cleo turned her attention to Bryce. With a heavy sigh, she dropped her head down between her two paws. “Is that a yes or a no?” Bryce asked. “Based on our professional experience, we’ve found that maniacs don’t look like maniacs.” She sipped the last of her wine and gestured to the bartender for a second one. “How was she killed?” She jerked her chin at his notepad. “Have you found a cause of death in your research?” “The police aren’t releasing that information.” Sam shook his head in response to the bartender asking if he wanted another drink. His mug was half filled, and the beer had warmed to room temperature. “If anyone knows how she was killed, they would reveal themselves as the killer,” Bryce said with a nod of her head. “We didn’t see any sign of a fight or violence in the apartment. But then, the police never searched it for a crime scene.” “They only recently discovered that a violent crime had been committed.” 

She leaned across the table. “Susan and I were gone that entire week. Erin was in and out. Whoever killed Cat could have done it in the apartment, got rid of the body at night when no one was around, and had plenty of time to clean up without being caught. “Until some drunken kids on ATVs crashed into the statue under which the killer dumped the body.” Sam referred to his notes and found out that her car, a red Chevy Cavalier, had been parked at Reston Metro. Her purse wasn’t in it. “It would have been easy for her killer to ditch the car at the metro and ride the train back to campus,” Bryce said. “Right now, the detectives are interviewing anyone and everyone in your and Cat’s worlds. They’re going to continue digging until they can find a motive for you to murder her. The best way that I can help you is to do the same—sift through the muck to find out who really killed Cat and your husband.” 

“We’re not looking for one person.” Sam cocked his head at her. “How do you know that?” “I don’t. It’s just …” Her voice trailed off. “Dermot had never met Cat. Why would Cat’s killer go after Dermot?” “Maybe to get back at you for something. Maybe someone close to you, or someone who wants to be close to you, took out Cat and your husband for hurting you.” 

He peered closely at her. “Tell me about your relationship with Cat.” “We weren’t friends.” Her tone was firm. “It was a four-bedroom suite. The four of us lived together for two years. I was in my last year in the architectural program. It was a five-year program. Erin and I were a year older than Susan and Cat.” “It sounds like you, Susan, and Erin have remained close all these years.” He made a note to interview Susan and Erin. “Erin and I were the first ones to move into the suite. We were there a year before Susan and Cat moved in. The university management would place the roommates together. We would get together occasionally for a movie night or meet for drinks or something like that. Susan made more effort to be friends than Cat. But …” 

Her voice trailed off. His beer finished, he slid the mug aside and sat back in his seat. He arched an eyebrow at her. “I will find out. Better for you to tell me straight up than allow me to find out from elsewhere.” “I dated Justin Turner for close to a year.” Recognition filled his face at the sound of Justin’s last name. “Turner? Any relation to—” “Susan’s husband. Justin dated Cat for about six weeks between me and Susan.” “Cat stole your boyfriend?” His lips curled. He sat forward. “How did you feel about that?” Agitation crept into her tone. “I’m from a small town where everyone trusts everyone. Susan was the one who told me that Cat was hitting on Justin. I laughed. Justin was a teacher’s assistant for the department chair. He crossed paths with Cat and Susan every day. I assumed Cat was being friendly and Susan was reading too much into it.” She sighed. 

“I could not see Cat ever being interested in Justin.” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What was Cat’s type of guy?” “Rich. Handsome. Exciting.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Justin was Mr. Reliable. His idea of cutting loose was spicy buffalo wings.” His blue eyes narrowed in thought. “Why do you think Cat pursued him?” “Because she could,” Bryce said. “Cat loved nothing more than another woman’s man. Once she had him, the thrill was gone, and she dumped him. Cat stood him up—on Valentine’s Day, of all days. He showed up with an enormous bouquet and Cat was nowhere to be seen. Susan spent the evening comforting him. They ended up getting married a few months later.” “Did you and Cat have any blow-ups about her stealing Justin that potential witnesses could bring up?” Bryce gazed into the bottom of her wineglass in silence. When she finally spoke, she said, “I was never in love with Justin. He was just someone to go out with on the weekends. We never even slept together. I admit it offended me that Cat stole him from me, but it isn’t like it devastated me.” He flipped a page of the notepad to a fresh page. 

“Tell me about the last time you saw Cat.” “It was late Friday afternoon. My last midterm exam was over at four-thirty. I had packed the night before. Everything was in my car, and I was ready to hit the road to go back home. But I had forgotten my laptop. I went racing back to the apartment to get it. Cat was dancing in the apartment when I ran in.” “She was dancing with whom?” “Herself. She was dancing alone.” Slowly, he nodded his head—digesting that information. “Haven’t you ever danced alone?” “Not really.” His eyes narrowed. “But then, I’m not a big dancer. What was she dancing to?” “Annie Lennox. ‘Money Can’t Buy It.’ I remember everything about the last time I saw Cat.” “I don’t know that song. But then, there are a lot of songs I don’t know. You came home, and you found her dancing alone in the apartment.” “She claimed she needed to blow off steam. She’d often do that. Especially that last semester.” She giggled at the memory. “She had just gotten her fingernails done. Cat had acrylic fingernails. They were long and elegant. She had had the same manicurist in Tysons Corner since she was a teenager. She had just gotten them done and had to show me. They had gradient black tips.” “I don’t know what that means,” Sam said with a frown. Bryce held out her hands. Her nails were tame compared to the other fingernails he had seen. They were pink with white tips. “Cat loved to try the latest nail styles. She had a standing appointment with Misty to get her nails done every other Friday. That day, she had gotten her nails done with black tips that blended into a beige color.” “How chic. Were Erin and Susan in the apartment when you were there?” She shook her head. “Cat told me she was getting dressed when the song came on and she started dancing. So here she is dancing half naked—” Sam’s eyebrow arched. “Half naked?” “Her bra, panties, and shirt.” “What floor were you on?” he asked. “Third.” “Were the blinds open?” She nodded her head. “Do you think a predator was watching and attacked her?” “I’ve investigated more than one murder where that was what happened.” “When I walked in and saw her spinning around the room, I told her she looked like a stripper. She said that was flattering. We had a good laugh. I grabbed my laptop and looked around one more time to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything else. She told me she had to go to a party—” “Was she going with anyone?” “Richard,” she said in a soft voice. “Richard? The same Richard who had invited her to the Outer Banks? The one who she celebrated spontaneity with, according to her Facebook post?” “That’s another reason I didn’t buy that post. Cat wasn’t in love with Richard by any stretch of the imagination. She dated him off and on.” “Was he a student?” “I’d never met him. I noticed she had two phones—a regular phone with an account and one of those pay-as-you-go phones she used only to talk or text him.” “Burner phone,” Sam said with a frown. “How observant for you to notice that.” “I looked for it after she went missing, but couldn’t find it. I told the police about it, too. The detective said that they found no phone in her car. Did they find it with her body?” “I’ll check with my contacts about what they may or may not have found with her remains,” he said. 

“I’ll also check to see if we can identify this Richard. It sounds to me like he was a married man working hard to conceal his mistress. If he was a professor at the university and she threatened to reveal their affair, he may have gotten rid of her to keep things under wraps. A professor would have access to the campus to bury her under the statue. How long had she been seeing Richard?” She let out a breath. “Off and on for the entire two years that she was living in our suite. She seemed to have money, but her family didn’t. Cat told me she got her money from tutoring. She got good grades, so I had no reason not to believe that. But then, I noticed the two different phones. She said that Richard was a powerful man, and he wanted to keep his private life private.” “But she was going to a party with him? I wonder how Justin felt about that?” “He was dating Susan by then. They were hot and heavy. What happened with Cat was water under the bridge.” Sam sighed. “Talk about drama.”

~~~

In a clever turn, Lauren Carr has moved from "Mac" Faraday, the main character  

in her first wonderful series to Sam MacKade in her newest series! Hey Lauren, do you have an important "Mac" in your life? One of your avid readers wants to know!  And, we already knew you love German Shepherds but

decided to "go dutch" so that we could meet Cleo and Gus... These two, I have to say, have promptly become your star characters! Along with Misha who truly won a place in my heart... I had to find Misha whose eyes would tell me that she was aloof, sassy, and, maybe, just, maybe, a one-person type of cat... In this case, not her owner! LOL

Seriously, folks, the three animal characters you will find in this book are extraordinary... Maybe it's due to the writer being a fluent animal conversationalist, but if my memory of all her earlier animals is correct, the relationship between the main character Sam MacKade, whose dogs are both service trained, is so beautifully intertwined that I actually wanted to reach out and talk to all of them myself...

And Sam MacKade? Yowza!!! Sam was a canine officer. He’s on disability from the force after getting shot. Goody Two-Shoes was his partner.” “Goody Two-Shoes?” “The female. Gus is the Filthy Beast. They’re Dutch shepherds.”

I picked Cameron Diaz for the lead female character, at least in this book since she may or may not stay. After all, the Series is named after MacKade! Personally I think she will stay, since she was first to make the moves on Sam and even his ex approves! You can be sure, I'll be reading this series as it progresses!

So here's the primary thing you need to know, Cameron, aka, Bryce Greyson, is under investigation by the police for not one, but two, murders! One of which was her husband!

The first took place almost two decades ago while Bryce was in college. One of her roommates disappeared, presumed dead... Bryce was the one who reported her missing, so, of course, the local police decided to look closely at her involvement with the missing student... and never bothered to look further.

Eighteen years later they are still trying to prove Bryce is the killer, especially when her husband was murdered four years ago! So what happens where the police has their sights on one person who has alibis, but there is nobody else to consider? Well, of course, that's how cold cases develop!

Carr has moved into a setting which I know very well. A campus setting for Harrison University brings an interesting type of location for possible financial scams and readers will be both amused and, later, quite satisfied with how that all turns out... Because in the midst of Bryce desperately turning to Sam, who is now a licensed private investigator, to finally prove she is not guilty--by solving the case(s)--Yes, you will not "Believe" just how many "cold and ongoing cases" are exposed as Sam McKade starts putting all the clues together!

Seriously, in order to create a "murder board" for all the events that start being connected, it would take up an entire wall in one of the university classrooms! And it all began when the body of the student who had disappeared 18 years ago was discovered! Bryce was once more the target of the police...

A smirk crossed his face. “I’m guessing your daddy taught you everything there is to know about constructing houses. Hammering a nail. Leveling boards. Driving heavy equipment like a bulldozer or bobcat.” Her brow furrowed. Where is this leading? She did not like the expression on Detective Hughes’s face. She had nothing to do with Dermot’s murder. Why did she feel so guilty? Because she had seen and read a lot of stories about innocent people going to jail for things they had not done. “What does that have to do with Dermot’s murder?” “Didn’t you live in a suite at a university apartment complex off-campus while you were in college?” Unsure of where the detective was going, Bryce nodded her head. “Last month, some frat boys got drunk one night and went racing around the campus at J.W. Harrison with a couple of ATVs. One crashed head-on into J.W. Harrison.” “The statue?” There was a seven-foot statue of the university’s namesake in the center quad on campus. They had erected it on a three-foot cement base. The detective chuckled. “The kid flew over the front of the ATV and hit his head. Got a concussion.” “That’s too bad.” The impending feeling of doom prevented Bryce from being amused. “What’s your point?” “The collision cracked the statue’s cement base. Did so much damage that last week, a crew had to come in with equipment to lift the statue and tear apart the base to replace it.” A smirk crossed his face. “They found the skeleton of a young woman buried under the statue.” Bryce felt the blood drain from her face. She felt weak in the knees. “Cat Wessex.” “Dental records confirmed it today,” the detective said. “The original detective on the case has long since retired. We were going through the case file, and wouldn’t you know it? The name of one of Cat’s roommates at the time of her disappearance was—” “Two other students were living in our suite.” “Neither of them had a spouse gunned down. Nor did either of them know how to operate a crane to pick up that cement base and place it on top of Cat Wessex’s body.” “I was down in southern Virginia when Cat went missing!” “So you claim.” With a chuckle, the detective cocked his head at Bryce. “You know, most people go through their entire lives never knowing even one person who gets murdered. But you, Bryce Greyson, have the unfortunate experience of knowing two people who were violently killed while living with you. Now, what are the odds of that?”

~~~ 

This book also includes two younger adults, one a podcaster and one a news reporter. These two who were graduates from Harrison, provide the up-to-date tech expertise in searching for clues in identifying the who-what-when-where questions, while Sam slowly assimilates, merges, investigates, eliminates and then moves in to confirm... Of course, taking Cleo and Gus as backup! Wearing their service blankets, which saves Cleo from a mid-flight attack! And Misha? She acted on instinct and rids the world of at least one of the bad guys who had dared to enter her and Bryce's home!

You know, I wonder just how long this award-winning author took to conceive this book. The interplay and backward twists, together with the villains involved  is simply amazing. Once again, Carr has upped her game beyond anything I can remember--and I've read most of her books! Her mind weaves this way and that way in seemingly ease to produce an incredible number of cases ranging from years ago and up to the present. And the "only" twist I guessed was at the very end! At least I got that one right...

But it didn't end in just clearing the two cases that had been held against Bryce for years! Several side hustles were identified and brought out for public accountability! Think of various issues that are in the headlines often--and it will have been woven into one of the best mysteries I have ever read! The complexity, diversity of players together with the characters within the university setting lends to the authentic setting and environment that we find in America.

And Bryce MacKade? I was impressed! His training and discipline together with the vibe of love from his animal partners is unique to our world of cruelty. By the end of the story, Bryce and I were both in love with him! I don't remember I've ever had such an immediate affection for one male, lead character. I promise you will love him too! Lauren, when's the next Sam MacKade book out?!

No wonder Lauren has such loyal fans! Her books not only change in plot, but her writing mind keeps creating worlds of wonder in which we sink--gladly! Kudos! Lauren!

GABixlerReviews

Carl Brookins' The Case of the Deceiving Don - A Sean Sean Mystery

Back in my office I considered what I had learned. My former boss, Duke Fararra, the owner of the agency where I’d trained to be a P.I., taught me that sometimes you had to kick the tires to dislodge the rust. I was going do that, metaphorically. On the main floor of my building was a small print shop where one could do some typing and mailing. I used an old portable typewriter they had lying around to compose a brief letter in which I explained I had some information the letter’s recipient needed. For a fee, I’d provide it. The information I had. I could have done the letter on my computer, but I wasn’t good with it for things like this. Besides, I wanted a deliberately low-tech appearance. 

I typed that the information was about the recently dead Augustus Molinaro. I suggested they call my representative, detective Sean Sean, and I put in my office telephone number. I signed it, Martin Levy. I addressed it to the Elite Agency in Edina. I didn’t wear gloves, and I didn’t care about other traces I might leave since I just wanted to see if I could break something loose. Rattle a cage or two, so to speak. 

Elite knew where my office was, and they knew where I lived. So I mailed the letter and went home. The next morning, after a peaceful night with my cats, a delicious steak and baked potato, and Yo-Yo Ma on the stereo, I sat down at my home computer, a nice, state of the art Dell, and Googled up Mr. Augustus Molinaro. I spent a couple of hours wandering the Internet dipping into various government and media sites, collecting bits and pieces on Don Molinaro. Some of this research had been done before and by others. But I was looking with a different eye. I wasn’t just collecting information, I was looking for clues. I was searching for something like a loose thread I could pluck out of the fabric of this event. What I assembled gave me some clues as to what might be going on. Molinaro came out of a Boston family. He spent some time in New York and then went off to Pennsylvania. I got the impression he was kind of a visiting fireman, or maybe a trusted liaison. In any case, he settled down in Mechanicsburg where he then rose steadily through the ranks to become a kingpin of the Eastern Pennsylvania Mafia.

Mechanicsburg is a small place, essentially a western suburb of Harrisburg in east-central Pennsylvania. It’s on the Susquehanna River. Which wanders through the Tuscarora and Appalachian mountains on its way to Chesapeake Bay. Pretty country out that way. Why is it important? If you drive north along the river a few hours you come up to Milton. It’s an easy scenic sort of drive with the White Deer Ridge rising ahead. You’ll see signs for the town of White Deer and another place called Allenwood. Allenwood has seen a lot of mobsters and other assorted criminals over the years. It’s the site of a large federal prison complex. One of the biggest in the federal prison system. So Mechanicsburg isn’t such a bad place to be headquartered if you function as a kind of inside/outside liaison. And you might acquire a lot of juicy secrets. And if you were a careful Don Augustus Molinaro—greasy Gus—after a while you might just become a liability. Or not. I was going to find out, hopefully not by traveling to Pennsylvania. There was a surprising amount of information, both official and not so official, about Allenwood on the Internet. There wasn’t a floor plan of course, and the maps were a little short on exactitude. So I called the Bureau of Prisons. Yes, under certain guidelines and under the rules for particular prisoners, almost anyone could visit almost any prisoner. If said prisoner agreed. 

Now, in spite of what they tell you about security, information flows back and forth. So does contraband. I was getting an idea that just maybe Don Molinaro was targeted for past actions or indiscretions which may have only come to light in recent times. If that were true, knowing what changes had occurred could lead me to the why of the bomb. From there it could be an easy step to the who of it. So the question of the moment became what sorts of information and other illegal goods might the good Don have been handling? I would find out. I went to my office and checked the roof across the street. It was empty. I checked the street. No ice-blue late model Audis in sight. I ran my new blinds up and down a couple of times. Nice and smooth. The telephone rang. 

It was my cop friend, Ricardo Simon. “How’s tricks, dude?” he asked. “Okay. I’m still a little jumpy, as you can imagine. Any information for me?” “Not on the Molinaro thing. I’m calling because we got a notification that Mrs. Higgins has been released.” “What, probation?” “Yeah. Good behavior. Thought you’d want to know.” “I appreciate the heads up, but I didn’t take her daughter’s threat seriously, did you?” “Nope. Just wanted you to know,” he said. “Is she staying in town?” “Oh, sure. Her listed address is their place on the south side.” “Thanks. Let’s have dinner one day.” “On you. Take care, Sean.” Simon hung up the phone. Mrs. Higgins. Huh. I’d been instrumental in getting her put away back a couple of years. She’d had an accident on the job at some insurance company. Figured she knew enough to stiff the company for a whole lot of money. Nice older lady, until you got in her way. Then she could turn nasty. I followed her around for a while and discovered her back and hip problems weren’t anywhere near as bad as she and her doctor said they were. I’d testified in court that my pictures and video of her cavorting in the water at Hidden Lake were true and unedited. I guess it didn’t help that she wasn’t wearing any clothes. Anyway, when the jury convicted her, she stood up in court and called me some names in most unfortunate language, concluding as the bailiffs muffled her that she’d get me. 

I hung up and went to the bathroom. When I got back to my office, the message light was blinking so I played the recording. There was only one call, from Blanche at the retirement home. “Hey, sonny,” she said. “Good recording on your answer machine. Get your buns out here as soon as you can. I got some intelligence for you.” Uh oh. If these imperative calls became a frequent pattern, Blanche could get to be a nuisance. On the other hand, she might have something significant for me. I decided to compromise with myself. I’d go over to Sheltering Limbs tomorrow morning on my way into the city from home, instead of right now...

~~~

I haven't quite figured out the time period during which Sean Sean acted as a PI... For one, cell phones exist, but he refuses to use one. Computers, including notebook style are available, but Sean doesn't have one. In fact, he eschews most anything technical, and, instead, depends upon experts with whom he builds relationships, to handle the parts of his job that are necessary, but not really, actually dealing with the actual investigation and pulling the pieces of information together to solve a case... 

And while he may not use technology, he has outfitted his car in various ways to ensure that he's able to both protect himself as well as work to investigate wherever he may need to go, all with the right tools... He is also quick to notice and remember his immediate surrounding area, no matter where he was, and, even though everybody was running around, Sean was, perhaps, the only one for this case who noticed a car parked not too far away that seemed to have two men in the front seat... And, a blue silver car, which he would later identified as an Audi...

Of course, he's also particular with what jobs he takes--and, under no circumstances, will he take on jobs related in any way to the mafia...

But, this one evolved out of an accident... Specifically, a wheelchair was found very near to the entrance of Sean's home and he had immediately ran to see if he could help... The individual in the chair lived in a retirement home. Sean learned from the officer in charge, Sgt. Lasker, that the chair and occupant was blown literally into pieces by a bomb! Fortunately, Ms. Laster was the type of officer who was willing to include Sean as somewhat of a partner as long as they were willing to share whatever information was found by either.

Almost immediately, it seemed that there was one individual who would be the main person of interest. He was a male attendant to the victim, Augustus Molinaro, a Mr. Levy, who was not an employee of the Home and about whom not even the director of the Home knew how to contact him. The only thing anybody now knew was that he had disappeared right after the bomb had exploded! 

This investigation was turning out to be extremely complex, so much so that Sean had to start making notes... He lamented the fact that, unlike Hammer or Philip Marlowe who must have a better memory since they didn't take notes... So Sean headed back to his office to start writing up what had happened. He may not have a client, but he knew that he personally was going to get involved with this one... Yeah, even after they found out that Augustus was, you guessed it, actually, Greasy Gus who had a long mob connection! So Sean figured he'd better check a few manuals--Lew Archer and a Ross MacDonald from his bottom desk drawer, but neither of these provided any new insight... Although... Archer did suggest that in his experience, at least, old crimes seemed to be at the root of much of his clients’ troubles. When the telephone rang, I picked up. That turned out to be one of my poorer decisions of the day... But Archer was right, because Greasy Gus' crimes were old...and still continuing! 'Til Somebody Blew Him Up!

Cause the Feds were not involved... And one of the things he brought to that meeting was this: What I mean is, who knows how many other nefarious characters like Greasy Gus are being quietly housed in our community? Isn’t this something that civic-minded citizens ought to take to City Hall? I mean, do I have to start worrying about property values?”

Well, Sean, somebody is out to keep you off this case... first, there's the two big guys... then somebody murders one of them thinking it was you...and then an anonymous caller asks you to meet him late that night at the Stone Arch Bridge... Personally, I'm pretty sure Spenser would have told him to take at least Hawk as backup...

It was a typical mid-summer night in Minnesota. Hot, moist, thick. It was nigh onto three in the morning and the pavers under my tires chuckled and popped. That’s what they’re called, pavers. Basically, they’re a kind of brick, and they replaced mud and gravel on a lot of Twin Cities streets in an earlier century. Some places they called ‘em cobble stones. Later they were dug up or just coved over with asphalt. In this historic district of the original village of Saint Anthony, hard by Saint Anthony Falls on the Mississippi River, in spite of their unevenness, the pavers had been exposed and many re-laid to add a bit of nostalgic ambience to the neighborhood. With the later bar closing installed by the legislature and various city councils, there were still a lot of people about here in the dead of night and numerous cars parked at the curbs. In an earlier time, three in the morning would have been pretty dead. Maybe my mysterious caller was hoping for the anonymity of a crowd. I was driving slowly south, more or less along the east bank. That put the river on my right. My caller had said to meet him at the south end of the famous Stone Arch Bridge. The bridge actually connects the east and west banks of the river, but because of the orientation of bridge and river at that particular place, the east end of the bridge was actually a little south of the west end. People sometimes get confused about that. Makes clandestine rendezvous problematic—or something. A patrol car went by in the other direction. I felt the cop’s eyes on me for a minute, registering, assessing my presence. Not for the first time I wondered why I was indulging my caller. I might learn something significant, but more than likely, I wouldn’t. I was a little more relaxed than I might have been because the site was open. It would have been difficult to sneak up on me, or even to get a shot off. The lighting and the closed up building on this side of the river all worked in my favor.

He was wearing a western-style straw hat and dark narrow-legged pants. But no high-heeled boots. His shoes appeared to be dark cross-trainers. The hat was pulled low on his forehead so his face was shadowed from the ugly orange overhead light that fell on us. He was white. His dark blue or black short-sleeved shirt revealed skinny arms and knobby elbows. I judged he was around forty, maybe a little older, and around 160 pounds. He appeared reasonably fit. He was leaning against the railing on the bridge looking sort of down toward the water and when I got close enough he said “Mr. Sean.” Quiet voice. Flat, no discernable inflection or accent. Not nervous. Like the voice on my machine. “That’s me,” I said. I didn’t ask his name. I figured it was a waste of breath. He didn’t ask me for ID, either. I was pretty sure anything that transpired here wasn’t going to end up in a courtroom under oath. A nocturnal bicyclist rode slowly by, tires faintly hissing on the pavers. I leaned on the same railing facing the man about four feet away. My instincts told me he wouldn’t take it kindly if I moved closer. He turned his head and seemed to look past me. I had the feeling he was checking for observers. I’d already done that. I was feeling just a mite exposed. After two murder attempts I was jumpier than usual. 

“You came alone.” “Yes. Your call indicated this was to be a private meeting.” “You wired?” “No. That stuff is expensive, not always reliable, and I can’t recall the last time I had a need for it.” “Who killed Dennis?” “Dennis?” For a moment I was taken aback, as it were. I recovered quickly. “Oh. Dennis, the man I called Buzz Cut. I don’t know.” “Wasn’t you.” “No. I was home watching TV. I think he was searching my office and somebody made a mistake. Whoever did it saw a shadow on the window blind, thought it was me, and pulled the trigger.” “You get shot at often?” “No, but it happened not too long ago. In my office that time as well. Missed me then, too.” I made an effort to keep my voice laconic. I didn’t want this guy to think I’d been freaked. Or that I was a little freaked at the murder of Buzz Cut in my office. “So you’re satisfied whoever shot Dennis thought he was aiming at you.” “That is correct.” “And it’s not related to the Molinaro thing.” “I don’t believe it is. I haven’t come across anything that would lead me to think there’s a connection. I could be wrong about that.” 

My inquisitor shifted away slightly to take more weight on his off leg. I can’t stand hip-shot like that for more than a few seconds. I guess the stance pinches a nerve in my back, or something. “You worried about being offed?” The tone of his voice changed. I’d had a feeling right from the beginning that the guy was graveling his voice and trying to use language in a different manner from his normal voice. All by way of concealing his identity. “Do you want to get to your point? It’s late, and I’ve got a full plate tomorrow.” I didn’t, but he didn’t have to know that. “Have you discovered anything about Gus Molinaro’s background?” “Some. He came from Mechanicsburg. That’s in Pennsylvania. Just a short ride south of Allenwood, the federal prison.” Straw Hat nodded once. “Do you know where Martin Levy is?” “No,” I said truthfully, “I don’t.” “We think he was planted on Gus.” I remained silent. None of my business what this guy and his companions, or family, thought. The less involved I could stay, the more likely I was to come out of this without any excess baggage. I rolled to my left and placed both elbows on the rail. Stared down at the water. It put me a little closer to my companion. I had my face turned toward him and could see a figure on a bicycle coming toward us along the bridge. Under the orange lights he was wearing a helmet, loose ankle-baring pants and a baggy tee shirt. He kept both hands on the handlebars and pedaled at a steady pace right on by us. Didn’t so much as glance our way. “I think you’ve got a tail,” I said. “Unless that cyclist is one of your minders.” Straw Hat tensed slightly. “All right,” he said. “Somebody will call you.”

~~~

With a surprising ending, I was hooked on this case from the very beginning... 

But next, we'll be hunting for a stolen piece of Art! I'm loving the Sean Sean Mystery Series! How About You?

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