Stillborn Armadillos - Book 1 of the John Lee Quarrels Series by Nick Russell

 

A couple of notes as I begin... I was trying to contact the author because the book copyright states clearly that excerpts may NOT be used even for reviews... So I'll be talking about the books from my own thoughts without any ability to share the actual writing. Please note also that there are mistakes, not many, but sufficient to be aware that a final editing was never done. Also, the book I got for my reader is NOT what I later found to be provided on my desktop format. I have no idea why, but as I already noted to the author, the pages were unnumbered, and at least once, I lost location of where I had left off reading. Don't ask me why. other than to say that Fire does that frequently if you lay your reader down on an uneven surface... Not LOL

In any event, once I discovered that the desktop version was different, I decided to not talk about the books in the order in which this book presents them. Given that I will be discussing the books as opposed to my regular review format, you should realize that the comments and thoughts are purely my own--sometimes opinions--sometimes flashbacks--sometimes editorial... And, more importantly, as most of you already know, I will be correlating the material presented in a somewhat comparative analysis with what is happening in the world right now, on a daily basis. I'm going to try this first book that I just finished and see how it goes. As you know, I normally use short excerpts to pinpoint issues and explore the content, but since, apparently, the fear of AI related to book content being illegally used is growing, I will be exploring how to adjust to those authors who require that I seek permission before any use. In any event, feedback about how you feel about my adjustments to copyright restrictions are, as with any other issue, always welcome...

Amazon Book Description - Life is already complicated enough for John Lee Quarrels, what with his estranged wife dropping in for unannounced sleepovers, her oversexed sister tempting him, his pot smoking ponytailed grandfather growing his own stash, his Elvis obsessed grandmother, and being caught smack dab in the middle of a power struggle between the Sheriff and Chief Deputy. But when a road construction crew unearths the skeletons of three murder victims, John Lee suddenly finds himself on the trail of a killer who may well have died long before the deputy was even born. And then a mysterious sniper begins shooting at deputies...
As sultry as a Florida back road in August, as mysterious as the South's live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss, and as deadly as a copperhead strike, New York Times bestselling author Nick Russell's new John Lee Quarrels series is sure to hook you from the first page and keep you reading late into the night.
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Small town USA is the setting for the books I've read thus far... As I mentioned yesterday, I immediately thought about the fact that in the first term for the republicans as they began movement toward Project 2025's attempt to control us, there was an emphasis that they had already started at the local level to influence for their plans and to begin control... We saw an emphasis on banning books, disruptions of school boards as movement toward a tighter control for our citizens was begun...

In the books thus far, there is one blatant factor. There are always local "rich" men, leaders of the community who "think" they have the right to control our lives... Interestingly, however, Russell also includes the extreme of the other side of the small town people... Discovering the individual people within each story is, therefore, a highlight to be watched... 

Because within a small town, apparently, it seems that everybody knows about everything that is going on... And, as with today's world, individual reactions are based upon where you are "seen" in relation to the "class" of people in which you live...

Let me quickly point out that, for me, I was influenced by this obvious use of people and their relationships to each other was quite offensive. That doesn't mean that I've never had similar feelings, it merely shares that "my feelings" are based upon, oftentimes, a very different base of beliefs. I found myself often reading the books more from a sociological standpoint as opposed to content of the storyline.

What do I mean by that? Well, for instance, I have no idea what the title of this book is supposed to represent... LOL... Now talk about coons or deer that scamper around my area, and I'm fully involved. Add some cats or dogs, and I've got friends to enjoy while I read... But talks among men as it relates to sex and competition was too much of a reminder of how deadly that can and has become as we watch television each day...

Take John Lee Quarrels as the main character... and how his character is developed. My first reaction was John Boy from The Little House on the Prairie... I mean, do small towners actually use two names each time you talk among friends? In any event, his personal life is interesting. His interaction with family is stranger... and yet, the man, himself, is somebody that most women will immediately respond to. But not know what to say about him... Interested in knowing more?

Well, often in a small area, we have nepotism as an issue... relatives getting jobs because they are familialy connected. John Lee's boss, is also his father-in-aw. This becomes an issue because John Lee is an excellent officer, but supposedly reports to another man, who is also familialy connected and feels he should be the Sheriff--as opposed to reporting to his brother-in-law... So there is constant friction by the supposed boss being bypassed... Also, in a small area, we learn that sex is an open discussion option, so readers will know all about John Lee's life in that area...

But let's start at the beginning. Often an officer will be involved in providing security to construction site activity. It was there that, as digging was occurring, a human bone was discovered. In fact, ultimately there were three old bodies that had been brought to the surface... And, once site review was made, they learned that each of the men, later confirmed as Black, had been shot in the back of their heads.

This, then, becomes an ongoing investigation led by Quarrels and a need to search old records when the age of the skeletons were confirmed. That occurred when the first few bones didn't match and the digging spread out from that original discovery... And, almost immediately somebody attacked the group, firing from a distance into the cop cars!

Once it was determined that the skeletons were from Black men, the issue of slaves was considered. But the timing and the ages of the skeletons soon eliminated that they had been slaves... One major find at that time was a small object that could not be defined with a purpose... Finally, a local historian provided sufficient information to pull up an historical fact on earlier camps to collect turpentine... On the other hand, John Lee learned that what was called Turpentine had been a product of a company that was still located in town... At some point in the past a discovery was made that there had been six camps which might have used the small token to be worn by the workers who lived in the various camps. Using these to identify the workers.

This was one of the connections that came to mind... That is, the fact that, supposedly, slavery had been abolished, but many Black people, attempting to find some type of work, were often caught into the same type of corruption of rich cotton growers... The product just changed... And, workers might have been of more than one race, but treated just as badly... Those who controlled men in the camps, I picture, as the type of men now working with ICE... Yes, it was a job, but it was also a method by which racial bias was often displayed, often resulting in death for the workers... The small ID could be used and often was worn around the neck. Indeed this small item had the initials of the company name.

John Lee soon was talking with the company leader but he claimed he knew little about what was going on back that far in the company's history... But John Lee soon was dealing with who was shooting up cop cars as well as who might have murdered the three Black men so long ago...

An interesting connection between many of those John Lee interacted with was a slightly different version of ICE of today, where they go into various locations without benefit of warrants or other legal  authority. This theme runs through the small town areas in the various books, with militia-type individuals--or Klan--who used guns and threats against any law officer who tried to come on to their property... As of now, I don't have a handle on why these people felt that they could prevent the law from coming on their land... Perhaps when there is a conflict between what the law is actually trying to do, versus what the individuals believe is right or wrong? Certainly we have learned of the correlation being used by those who now walk our streets masked and with guns aimed and ready...

It was the murder of Ray Ray that brought the entire community up in arms... Ray Ray stuttered, but was so involved, kind, and caring that it didn't matter... He paid with his life... And how he died was something that called for action of various sorts...

As the book ends, readers are confronted with an ending that has little to offer... When those involved lie to the police officers or blame others as seems to be a standard operating procedure for many small town business representatives, we are confronted with one major result.

The problem of communication moves from the very bottom of civilization all the way to the top... The question is what to do when the people with legal authority are prevented from acting... by parents who choose to support their child rather than acknowledge that accountability is required... Two boys had decided it would be funny to scare a cop... The cop thought he was being killed, or could be... The mother attacked John Lee for pointing out that her son could be killed...

All I have to say it that if the small town of these books represent what actually exists in the United States...there is every reason to consider that the lack of proper training and accountability does indeed begin in the families... And, when power and money becomes a factor, it only gains strength, longevity and moves upward and outward... creating chaos...

John Lee had the scars to prove it. That mother used her claws and dug into his face, not caring that her son was actually to blame--or, perhaps, she was actually the one to be jailed...

Are we generating the world we live in through the type of parenting being done? Yet, those who are parents are often stopped from dealing with problems due to lack of money, some type of abuse, or out-of-control problems in the family that are rarely handled or even attempted because the parent is not able to handle the responsibility.

Have we reached today's crisis through ignoring the needs of those who need the most help? Statistics seem to support that to be true... Decades have gone by while one political party not only refuses to deal with gun control, but also garners financial support for retaining policies about gun control as not being needed...

Are our children being stillborn because there are no longer clear guidelines with families, local governments, federal government and across the world?

Like Nero, do we allow supposed leaders at every level to fiddle while Rome burns to the ground... and then blame anybody and everybody other than ourselves or those we voted for, at any level, including our religious leaders, to actually get away with murder???

A final thought re this series... Quarrels, in developing John Lee as his main character achieves something that many writers have not... He has put together a story that is intriguing enough to pull readers in at the same time, that his main character has sufficient moral character to allow readers to know exactly how he feels about various situations... and yet provides a layer of ongoing humor that both surprises and delights...

Watch for the next book soon...

GABixerReviews

Barbara Cool Lee Presents Honeymoon Cottage - A Pajaro Bay Novel - Romance, Mystery, Suspense!

About a half-mile down the beach she was surprised to see an old-fashioned amusement park—a Ferris wheel and great red-and-white towers of a wooden roller coaster jutted up into the clear sky, and other brightly colored buildings hinted of summer fun. "It's heaven," Oliver said. "Let's stay here forever." "It's heaven," she whispered, watching the tiny figure of the cop far off down the beach. This place felt far apart from the harsh world outside. It was as if here was a place she could start over, be whoever she wanted to be, dream any dream and make it come true. She briefly considered what it would be like to live permanently in a little cottage, in a cute village surrounded by sand and sea and cotton candy, with the chance to just be herself and have nothing to hide.  

She unlocked the gate, then turned to face him. "Thank you for your help, Captain Ryan. I can handle it from here." "I'd better see you inside safely." She wondered at what point his obvious impression that she was incompetent would make her either lose her temper—or fall all over him in relief. But since she knew he was right about her, she just shrugged and went through the gate, Oliver and the man trailing behind her. 

As soon as the house came into view she realized her prayers for a quick sale had not been answered. She stopped in her tracks. It was a monstrosity. No. That wasn't the word. At least a monstrosity would have adequate square footage. This was... it was indescribable. It was tiny—all of two and a half stories high and still probably smaller than her one-bedroom condo had been. It had obviously been built without a blueprint. It was crooked. She didn't see a straight line anywhere in sight. The roofline was pitched at an angle that defied gravity, with one side climbing toward the sky at a steep slope, and the other side swooping down practically to the ground. "The roof...," she muttered. "Cat slide," Captain Ryan said. "That's what they call that steep, one-sided pitch," he explained to Oliver. Oliver stood, as wide-eyed as she herself must appear, trying to take it all in. "Yeah," he muttered. "A cat would slide right off, huh?" 

"The Honeymoon Cottage was the first Stockdale," Captain Ryan said. She didn't have time to ask him what the heck a "stockdale" was, because she was busy walking around the front of the cottage, trying to make sense of it. The walls appeared to be made of stucco in a charming shade of cream-and-mildew, interspersed with huge, rough-hewn beams of what she imagined was ancient redwood. The beams appeared to be barely holding up the walls. Iron sconces framed the door. And the door, a round-topped slab of redwood, obviously hand-carved by a carpenter who didn't own a level, stood proudly off-center in the front wall, flanked by not only the gargoyle-shaped sconces, but also by heavy-framed, diamond-paned windows that arched into unbelievable shapes never imagined by the folks at Home Depot. "Oh, no," she muttered. 

"Haven't you been to the Honeymoon Cottage before?" he asked. "Stop calling it that!" she snapped. "Honeymoon cottage—like it's some cozy little getaway for a newlywed couple. Divorce cottage, more like it. One look and the marriage broke up." "The house then. You haven't seen the house." "House? This isn't a house. It's—it's—" She was at a loss. A complete loss. All her plans for a quick sale and a getaway to a new life were shot in this one, first glimpse of⁠— "—It looks like it was built by a drunken leprechaun," she finally said. Unexpectedly, the taciturn captain chuckled. "I think that's the best description of a Stockdale cottage I've ever heard." He pushed open the door, which wasn't even locked. Why would it be? Who would want to break in? The iron hinges on the door gave way with a creak straight out of an old horror movie. He ushered them inside. "We might as well see the rest." She went in. It was a mess. The walls were as crooked inside as they had appeared from the outside, the diamond-pane windows were missing glass in several spots, and there was ample evidence that something—she prayed it wasn't raccoons—had taken up residence in the middle of the living room floor. "I think it's neat," said Oliver. He ran over to the fireplace. "See all the different pictures!" He started tracing out patterns in the ceramic tiles framing the fireplace. "This one's a squirrel!" Numb, Camilla followed him over to the fireplace. He was right. It was beautiful. Under the grime and slime, the fireplace was covered in handmade embossed tiles. There were trees and starfish and suns, all in rich browns and golds and greens—many greens, from pale moss to deep forest. More and more came to light with every sweep of Oliver's hands against the dirty surface. It smelled of mold. 

"This cottage is worth a lot of money," the man behind her said. "Why?" she said sarcastically. "You get a lot of drunken leprechauns around here needing housing?" "You don't know? It's a Stockdale. Built by Jefferson Stockdale. The architect." "Using the term loosely," she muttered. "The village is littered with them. People come from all over the place just to see them. Postcards, walking tours, they even filmed an old TV series here years ago. You know—about that old lady who solved mysteries." "I don't think this place is on the tourist maps." "Not now. But a little repair, a little spit and polish⁠—" She pulled at a loose tile on the hearth and it came off in a cascade of decayed grout and mouse droppings. "—Okay, a lot of spit and polish. But this place is full of history. If you own it, you're sitting on a gold mine." He was talking a lot. The silent captain had become very chatty all of a sudden. "How do you know?" He froze, as if he realized he was revealing too much, and then said, "Um, I know somebody who inherited one." "How nice for them," she said. Then the words "gold mine" sunk in. "You think I can get a good price for it? The real estate agent told me it just needed a bit of fixing up." He looked around the room. "Your real estate agent is an optimist. I imagine it'll take some money to hire the team of specialists...." "I'm doing the work myself. Yes," she added at his skeptical look. "I have experience with—well, not with this sort of house, but with normal houses." He looked down at her from his six-foot-two. "Really?" "Yes, really. My father did construction." When he wasn't in jail. She looked him in the eye, glad she hadn't said that last part aloud. "I am capable of taking care of myself, Captain Knight." "I don't doubt you," he said, but she didn't believe him. She went to the front door, and held it open. He still stood in the middle of the room, as if he wanted to say something more. "Thank you for your help, Captain." She looked at him pointedly and he finally came over to where she stood. Again she felt that surge of adrenalin as he invaded her personal space. 

She had no room to step back, with the redwood door behind her and the tree of a man only a foot in front of her. He stood there for another few seconds while she held her breath. Some insane part of her wanted to ask him to stay: Don't go. It's all too much for me. I want you to help. But luckily her mind was stronger than that idiotic thought. She stood silently and finally he stepped through the door and walked up the path to the street. She watched him go. At last he was out of her life. But long after the gate creaked shut, and the SUV's engine roared to life, and the sound of the tires crunching on the gravel faded in the distance, she still stood there, her thumb rubbing over the gold embossed badge on the business card. "What's for dinner?" Oliver's voice cut into her swirling thoughts. She realized her face was damp with evening fog, and the sun was almost completely gone. It would be dark soon, and she didn't even know if the place had working lights. She turned to Oliver. "Macaroni and cheese for dinner. Assuming there's a stove. Let's find out." She held out her hand to him and they went to find the kitchen. 

~~~~

As soon as I read the description of this tiny house, I could hear the song in my head: "There was a crooked man, who..." and I was hooked to know more about what would happen in this tiny crooked home... Lee has a fascinating way of building each of her main characters, who readers will naturally assume that they will come together sooner or later, LOL. The antagonism had started on Camilla's part as soon as they met, even though it was the situation and the fact that Ryan was a cop that had been called by a shop owner who thought there was a potential sale of stolen property going on... Yeah, it's going to be that type of tense relationship between two of the nicest people--you can tell by their actions--that you might want to meet.

But both of them had a past that they didn't want to share, especially when one was a cop...

It was rather a strange entrance into Pajaro Bay. She was out of gas, needed money quickly to get more, while swearing she had just filled the car with gas 50 miles before. She also had a young boy with her but no father. And, further, when they got to her new home, she admitted she had never seen it nor knew what type of house, and condition, it was in. Having to sleep on the floor was just the beginning of the new life they needed to adjust to!

The last thing he needed was a woman wearing freckles and a halo, a little boy who loved trucks, a glimpse of goodness and honesty that was impossible for him to ever know again. It was a vision of something beyond this empty, echoing life. Something he had forgotten even existed. And now these innocents walked into his life and tempted him to see goodness and forget the horrors that lurked just beneath the surface.

At least until she sold the cottage... and with that money reclaim her identity as far as a profession goes. Ryan has him own back story and had already submitted his resignation... Which, after meeting Camilla and finding himself attracted to her, has already put him in a quandary as he soon realizes that the feeling seems to be mutual and both are unwilling to consider the alternative to their respective plans...

Enough of that. But even as she scolded herself she had to smile. She was feeling so much better after a good sleep that even the thought of the overbearing cop couldn't dampen her spirits. Oddly, crashing in a sleeping bag on the floor of this tiny cottage had given her the best night's sleep she'd had in weeks. Outside the diamond-pane windows, the sea had whispered all night, and the fog had cocooned Oliver and her from the outside world. All had felt warm and cozy inside. She'd finally gotten the deep restful sleep she had so desperately needed. It was as if the cottage was holding them safe in its arms. Nice feeling, even if it was merely a result of exhaustion and stress.

I don't want to share too much about the details other than to say that a serial killer is involved. Also involved is an ongoing con man activity that results in Ryan finally concluding that he needed to begin a full-scale investigation. In the meantime, he got permission to provide ongoing security at the cottage, where their relationship continued to bloom.

The young boy is a very special character, because he has his own secrets of the past. But he is now loved and wanted and as the story goes on, Camilla made an internal commitment to ensure that Oliver becomes confident that she will not disappear like his father did... That decision also provided a new strength in her decisions about her past and future. 

There was something about the way she looked at him. She wasn't going to take life's problems lying down. She was facing her troubles with that cute little button nose up and a stubborn set to her jaw. There was something admirable about her. The awareness that she was alone in the world, without a penny to her name, but she wasn't going to stop trying until she found a way out of the mess in which she found herself. He wished he had her faith that everything would work out, if one only kept trying.

This is such a delightful, heartwarming story, with an underlying note to readers that, no matter what has happened in your life, there is still a chance to survive and return joy to your future... The characters are wonderfully created, giving readers a chance to both boo-hiss and rejoice of the people in the Pajaro Bay community. With a surprise and shocking climatic event! Highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews

Nora Roberts Presents Her Latest Novel: Mind Games! A Quite Extraordinary Story...

 

Wrath is cruel, and anger is outrageous,

but who is able to stand before envy?

—PROVERBS 27:4

“We need to talk about the arrangements I’ve made.” With everyone around the table again, Lucy began. “I can change things, if anyone wants something else or different. I want to make sure I’ve made the right choices. First, Cora and John are coming home here tomorrow.” “Can we see them?” Lucy shook her head at Rem. “No, darling. I’m sorry.” “Because of the way he killed them.” Waylon’s face went to stone, but his eyes flooded with rage. Beside him, Caleb laid a hand on his arm. “That’s right. We’re going to have pictures of them. Your uncles brought their pictures, and you can both have as many as you want. We’ll pick ones we want to put out for the funeral.” “Can we do a gallery wall here, Grammie? Not just with their pictures. I mean with everybody’s?” “Rem, that’s such a good idea.” Lucy beamed at him. “We’ll go through my picture albums sometime soon and start on that. “The funeral home, they’re going to pick up”—she hesitated, then went on—“the caskets from the airport. Cora had white and pink hydrangeas in her bridal bouquet because she favored them, so we’re having those at the service, and at the gravesite. I thought we’d have just one stone because they’re together and always will be.” She cleared her throat. 

“In my first anger and grief, I thought about having it say something like taken from us through cruelty, but that’s not how we should remember them. So I thought, something that honors them. I thought what John put on Cora’s anniversary watch. For All Time.” “That’s perfect, Mama,” Caleb told her. “None of us are big churchgoers so I thought having the service right in the funeral home’s the best. Caleb, Waylon, I’m going to ask you both for something hard. Caleb, I’m asking you to do their eulogy, to get up there and speak for all of us, if you think you can.” He didn’t speak, just nodded. “Waylon, the hard I’m asking you? That song, ‘Endless Love,’ they had at their wedding for their first dance. I’m asking you to sing that for them, and for us, just like you did for the wedding.” “Mama.” He closed his eyes, then, like his brother, nodded. “Of course I will.” 

“Is all of that all right with you, Thea, and you, Rem?” “Can one of the pictures be their wedding picture, the one on the gallery wall in Virginia?” Thea asked. “If we’re having the flowers and the song…” “That’s just perfect.” “Can Cocoa come? They loved Cocoa.” “Well, I’ll find out about that, Rem. If she can’t come in the funeral home, she can sure come to the gravesite. We’ll have the funeral day after tomorrow, and after, people will come back here. The eating places in town are sending food. They won’t take money for it. But I’m going to make a ham and an apple stack cake. Cora favored my ham, and John surely loved my apple stack cake. I’ve got a list of what I need at the market, if one of you boys would drive in and get that for us.” “I’ll take care of that, Mama,” Waylon told her. “I appreciate that. I’ll give you a check you can fill out when—” 

“No, you won’t. Don’t say that to me, Mama. Don’t. Cora was my sister, John was a brother to me.” When his eyes went teary, Lucy rose and went to him. “You’re right.” From behind his chair, she hugged him, kissed his shaggy hair. “We all have to say goodbye in the best way we can. If I’ve left something out, or you want something else, just say.” 

“Will a lot of people come?” “I expect they will, Rem. And your granny’s coming up tomorrow with Stretch, and my brother, my sisters, your cousins. Your mama and daddy had friends in Virginia, and some of them are coming, too.” “A lot of people,” Caleb confirmed. “When they’re all in here, if y’all just need to get away from them for a little bit of a while, just want the quiet? Then you go on up to your room and take that quiet. If you need something else, you just find me or Waylon.” 

“Give me your list, Mama, and I’ll do your fetching. How about taking a ride with me in Grammie’s truck, Rem? You, too, Thea, if you want.” “That’s okay. I want to put my things away. And I want to help make the apple stack cake. I want to learn how. I’m going up now, Grammie, to put my things away.” And to think a little, she added to herself. To think about how many people would come to the house. 

She needed her grandmother to teach her how to hold back all that grief and mad. She felt so much from her uncles. As calm as Caleb made himself look and sound, she’d felt as much grief and mad from him as Waylon showed on his face. All from them, from her grandmother, from Rem, inside herself got so heavy. It hadn’t been like this before, not before that night. She needed to know how to hold some of it back because it almost felt like it could crush her. She needed to learn. She waited to ask until Lucy came to tuck her in that night. 

“You said there’d be a lot of people.” “Yes.” “You said the gift doesn’t want to hurt me, and I should open myself to it. But when we were all talking after lunch, and a couple of other times today, it—it did hurt, Grammy. Uncle Caleb feels the way Uncle Waylon does, even though he doesn’t show it as much. And with lots more people—” 

“I understand. Sometimes you have to close a window.” She nodded to the open one letting in the night air. “If you closed that window, you’d still see outside, see the rain if it’s raining, or the sun or the wind in the trees. But you wouldn’t feel it nearly as much as you would if that window stayed open. This is the kind of time where you need to close that window.” 

“How?” “You’ve done it plenty already. Maybe not as thoughtfully or deliberately. Accepting what you have doesn’t mean you have to use it every day. If you need more than a window, imagine a door, close it up, turn the lock. It’s yours, Thea. Maybe you decide, all right, I can open the window a little bit, or leave the door ajar. Or you don’t because you need that quiet Uncle Caleb talked about.” 

“Do you leave it open or closed?” “Oh, I guess mostly a little open. Sometimes all the way open or all the way closed.” “If I can, I want to keep it closed when we have the funeral.” “Then that’s what you do. And if you need help, you come to me. All right now?” When Thea nodded, Lucy leaned down to kiss her. “Dream something happy now, or something full of adventure. Don’t carry weight into sleep.” 

Thea closed her eyes, imagined a window. It stormed outside. The rain, the tears. The wind, the grief. The thunder, the mad. And imagined herself closing the window. On the day of the funeral, Thea put on the black dress she and her mother had picked out for the spring chorus concert at school. She’d felt so grown-up wearing it, and the shoes with the short, stacked heels. She knew she’d never wear either again. She braided her hair, and put on the earrings the police had given back to her uncles. Granny had come with her well-to-do second husband everybody called Stretch. She’d heard her grandmother, and her mother, too, call Carrie Lynn O’Malley Riley Brown a force of nature. Standing a full six feet tall with a long spill of bright red hair and sharp green eyes, she looked like one. She’d cried, and when Thea let the window open a crack, she saw a heart that carried deep scars. The aunts and uncles and cousins brought more tears with them. Because Waylon and Caleb had driven down in the U-Haul and they only had her grandmother’s truck, Stretch rented cars for driving down to the funeral home, to the graves, and back home again. 

She sat in the back of one beside her grandmother, Rem on the other side in his best and only suit. Waylon drove, with Caleb in the seat beside him and Cocoa between. The funeral home sat on the far end of town, a big redbrick building with white trim and windows that shined in the sun. It stood on a slope of a manicured lawn, and to Thea’s eye, did look like a house. A man with gray hair opened the door to them. He wore a black suit and shiny black shoes, and spoke in the quiet voice you’re supposed to use in church. Thea decided not to listen, because her heart started to beat so fast. Everything smelled like flowers; everything felt too hot. She wanted to run back outside and keep running, but gripped her grandmother’s hand, as Rem did on the other side. With Cocoa on the leash, they all followed the man into a big room where the sun beamed through the windows, and folding chairs sat in line after line after line. A table held the pictures they’d picked out and more flowers. Two big white vases held the pink and white hydrangeas beside an easel with the picture Stretch had enlarged. Her mother in her wedding dress, and her dad in his wedding suit. She knew it was from their first dance because it had hung on the gallery wall. They looked at each other. She’d heard her grandmother once say you could see the stars in their eyes. 

She made herself look at the caskets as they walked toward them down the aisle between the lines of chairs. Boxes, polished up, more hydrangeas flowing over them. With her parents inside. She remembered how they’d looked the day they’d left for home. It seemed like a minute ago. It seemed like a year ago. Even with the window closed as tight as she could, she knew Rem started to cry. She knew tears ran down her grandmother’s face. Her uncles’ grief layered over her own. Lucy looked at her, pressed her lips to Thea’s cheek, and some of the terrible weight lifted. They let the rest of the family come in next. Though Rem went with Caleb, Lucy kept Thea’s hand firm in her own. Even when they sat in the front row of all those chairs, Lucy held Thea’s hand. More and more people came. Even when all the chairs filled, others stood in the back. The man in the black suit walked to the front. He spoke about knowing Cora since she’d been a little girl, about meeting John. How everyone here felt their loss, the tragic loss to their families, to their young children, to the community. 

Waylon got up, strapped on his guitar. He’d shaved his face smooth, tamed his hair. “This is Cora and John’s song, the one they danced to first as husband and wife.” He played it slow, and when he sang the lyrics, Lucy’s hand trembled in Thea’s. This time Thea gripped tighter. Waylon didn’t cry until he sat back down again. 

Then Caleb went up. He was very pale, and somehow more handsome with it. “There are people in the world who make it better just by being in it. People who bring joy, bring love, simply because they have joy and love in them. “Cora and John made the world better. They brought joy and they brought love. They were taken from the world, from their children, from all of us by a senseless and brutal act. “And still, they bring joy, they bring love. Through our grief we feel that joy, that love because they send it to us. To all of us, friends, neighbors from near and far. They send it to our family. “To you, Mama, to you, Waylon, and especially to you, Thea and Rem. Their loss cuts so deep, it’s hard to get through and believe that. But we do, and we will. The light they brought into the world, it’s never going out. It shines on in their children.” When Caleb sat again, the man in the black suit invited anyone who wanted to say a few words to come up. Plenty did, to say kind things or tell a funny or sweet story. But as Thea sat, her heart stopped pounding. Waylon’s song, Caleb’s words seemed to flow right into her. And somehow they dulled the sharp, cutting edge of pain she’d fought against since she put on the black dress. 

The cemetery lay outside the town proper, with its stones and monuments on rolling hills. The man in the black suit spoke again, then both Caleb and Waylon got up. “What are they going to do, Grammie?” “I don’t know, Rem.” They stood together on the sun-washed hill with the flower-draped coffins behind them. “We’re here to say goodbye to Cora and John. Mama and Daddy raised us with music, so Caleb and I, we decided we’d sing them off. Not with a sad song, but a song about life, and the love in it.” They sang, a cappella, “In My Life.” At the first line, Lucy choked back a sob. She swallowed the tears, let out a long, long sigh. She kissed Rem’s hand, then Thea’s. The three of them sat, joined, while her sons’ voices carried over the rolling hills. After, people came up to offer condolences, embraces, but eventually they stood alone together, brothers, mother, children. “I want to say how proud I am of you, my boys. For the song in the service, Waylon, for your words, Caleb. How they’re going to stay with me for the rest of my days. And for what you did here. None of that was easy for you to do, but you did it for them, and for me, and these children. “Let’s go on home now. People will already be there, and we’re grateful to the friends who stayed back from the gravesite to greet them. Let’s go on home, and we’ll come back when the stone’s set. We’ll bring flowers...” 

I don't think I could ever have fully understood the scripture quoted, Proverbs 27:4, at the beginning of the book, if I had not read this extraordinary story. How does one get to the point that envy and greed justifies everything else that an individual does in their life... Even Murder... And yet it happens, even more often these days, it seems...

Roberts latest novel, Mind Games, is well worth your consideration... It is unique yet the majority of the book's setting is one very similar to mine--in the country, taking care of farm animals, and meeting neighbors... Yet, for the main character, it is sometimes a scary--a very scary place!

Thea, who was just 12 that year, and Rem, her younger brother  have just arrived at their grandmother's farm where they spend a full two weeks of the summer each year... They travel from Virginia, which is not too far away, to RedBud Hollow, Kentucky. For these children, visiting the farm is the best part of each year. This year is different, however, they will not be going back home... And they would have been thrilled, under different circumstances... But Lucy, their grandmother had been contacted to let them know that her daughter and son-in-law had been murdered!

Even before that, though, both Lucy and Thea had known they were dead... This supernatural "gift" was passed down through the women of their family. Lucy found that Thea was much more attuned to things than even she. And that was what had caused the beginning of her nightmare, which would last for years... Thea had actually seen the murder happening and could identify the man who killed her parents!

Fortunately, for readers, Roberts has built a fascinating tale around the kind of life that happens in rural areas... Neighbors were close, bartering goods, or just providing to those in need... Lucy was a true homemaker, creating candles, soaps and other medicinal articles that were sold locally. Lucy was often the only person who was able to help when somebody was "ailing..."

The major concern for the two children was getting started at a new school, but by that time, they had met neighborhood children and were helped through that sometimes difficult time when needing to meet new people, and hopefully become friends, came about.

Thea and Rem were also from their city life, fully active in gaming. But here, too, Thea was ahead because of her strong creative storytelling skills. In fact, the very first game she created, got her into training and then her first game was sold...

Other than the book trailers above, I've decided not to reveal anything other than that Thea identified the man who killed her parents. Sufficient enough to allow police to make a quick arrest. What I'm "not" talking about is that portion of the book that moves into thriller mode, like no other I've ever read about. The imagination, plus the technical gaming study required by the writer to be able to tell this story, is outstanding--both exciting and a touch of horror moves this multi-genre novel to the best of the best of books I've read by Nora Roberts, and under her pseudonym, J. D. Robb (which had always been my favorite books from her.)

The merge of the country setting and all it entailed results in a fascinating, unbelievable story that will awaken you to hoping for the possibility of seeing more of Thea and Lucy, along with the main characters, in a series... Thea's, especially, development is compelling, extraordinary and worthy of...seeing more of her in action! Highly recommended.

GABixlerReviews

Robert Sells Presents An Affair With Murder - Extraordinary Exploration of Recovery from Violence In a Funny Sort of Way...

 

She hazarded a sideways glance at the driver, but it only heightened her anxiety. Knuckles white, the man in the Armani suit leaned forward, his squinting eyes nearly touching the front window. What the hell is going on? She watched him shake his head, clearly frustrated. “Sorry, Beth, we gotta pull off the road. Can’t see through this fog.” The young woman looked out the passenger window. Foggy, yes, but she could easily see a good fifty feet or so into the densely packed trees that seemed to have swallowed the highway. A thread of unease raised the hairs on her arms. Why did he choose this “short-cut?” If he was worried about the fog, their gradual descent into the valley toward the river would have only increased its thickness. Her stomach lurched when she wondered if she might actually be in danger. 

He turned toward her. The expression on his face was as contrite as his words. “Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry, but I’m having a bit of difficulty seeing.” He looked back at the road and took a deep breath. “I have glaucoma. Early onset. I haven’t told too many people yet. My job, you know.” He went back to squinting at the road. Now understanding his strange behavior, she breathed a sigh of relief and berated herself for being so suspicious. Her nursing background immediately rose to the forefront. Beth gave what she hoped he would perceive as a sisterly pat on his arm. “Don’t worry. I understand. Do you want me to drive?” His eyes didn’t leave the road, but his brow furrowed and he tilted his head. She hoped she hadn’t offended him. Having known him only for a day, she didn’t know whether or not his male ego could bruise easily. Then he turned to her. “Yes, I suppose that would be a good idea, Angie. I know a turn-off …” 

He scanned the woods. “Yeah, here.” The car swerved abruptly. Startled, she felt an unwanted jolt of adrenaline. He slowed his car as they drove down a narrow gravel road. Okay, that’s weird … why did he call me Angie? And that’s the second time he’s made that slip. What’s with that? Maybe a former girlfriend? Is this a rebound situation? Wife? Nice guy, but this is all too weird. She looked over her shoulder and watched the gravel road disappear into the gray shroud. A few seconds later, the car skidded to a stop. He patted the wheel, reassuring the inanimate object that all would be well. He turned and gave her a warm smile and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. I hoped to entertain you with my charming wit, but this damn fog …” 

She melted a bit inside. Poor guy, he’s mortified. “Hey,” she said quickly, hoping to stem his embarrassment, “No big deal.” He sighed and fumbled with the door handle. “Oh, well. Safety first, huh? Let’s switch.” Simultaneous clicks while unfastening their seatbelts generated an agreeable chuckle from both man and woman. The small moment of humor helped defuse the remainder of Beth’s tension. Sighing with relief about her former worries, she figured her concerns had about as much substance as the surrounding fog. Beth had met Allen Nordstrom at the hotel bar the night before. A good-looking man with a deceptive solidness under his flannel shirt; he was polite and soft-spoken. In a world of rude, macho men, he seemed to be the exception. With a career in law enforcement, he came to Rochester to investigate some crime, the details of which he apologetically declined to share with her. They hit it off right away sharing a common interest in dogs (both owned golden retrievers) and music … the classics: Beatles and Arrowsmith. 

After a half hour of enjoyable chit-chat, he shook her hand and said goodnight. With a twinkle in his eye, he leaned over the table and whispered into her ear his last, humorous anecdote and left her laughing. She watched him walk away and wondered what might have been if things had gone a bit further. For once she’d actually met a really nice guy. A minute later he returned. “Look, please believe me when I tell you this. I’ve never done this before. Well, I mean I’ve talked to women in bars before, but I’ve never come back. I don’t know, it’s just that well…we really connected.” He looked away, obviously frustrated with his fumbling speech. 

The man closed his eyes for a moment and turned back to her. “Do you like fish fries?” She laughed. “Yes, but not at ten o’clock at night.” “No,” he said with a chuckle. “I know this great restaurant half an hour south of here. Best fish fry in New York State. I could take you there for lunch tomorrow, and have you back in time for your plenary session at three.” Since she had no scheduled meetings until the last session of the conference, she agreed. He met her in the lobby of the hotel, dressed more formally than the night before. “Sorry, a meeting with some folks at the sheriff’s office,” he explained. Then he proceeded to do all the right things: opened the door for her, entertained her with more stories about his police work. Humorous, no gore. And, he was right. It was the best fish fry she had ever had. She smiled at the memories as she cut through the mist surrounding the car. Chilly, she pulled her coat tighter across her body. Passing each other with a smile, she said “You’re right. We’ll be back before three.” 

She felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned, a smile on her face. He smiled back at her and, as though it was as natural as shaking hands, pressed a wet handkerchief against her nose and mouth. Her first reaction was one of disgust. Hadn’t he sneezed into it during their lunch? She instinctively struggled, but he was surprisingly strong and she couldn’t move her head away. She inhaled a sickly-sweet aroma and then drifted into blackness.

~~~

Robert Sells starts off his Latest Novel with a Bang--or a little bit of chloroform... This victim wasn't the first and if he had a choice, it wouldn't be the last...

I will not let the past rule my present …

And Becca was coming home, damaged, only to be caught right in the middle of it all!

Becca had just told Cassie, her best friend, that she was coming home to Mayburg. She tried to let her know that it would not be a permanent move, she just needed to come home and work on her next novel and make her deadline... Which would be a lot harder since it would be a new story that needed to be created, as opposed to writing about true crime. Becca's first book had been more cathartic than to make money and a new career... Worse, the publisher now wanted her to add a murder in her next book! Really? Did anybody actually read her book?!

Twelve years ago, one of her best friends had been murdered... She had been on and off again spending time in therapy, where she did learn that time doesn't necessary heal all wounds... At least she had been able to breathe a little easier... Especially when she gave her a new mantra to say under her breath, whenever needed, "I will not let the past rule my present..."

But sometimes that just isn't possible, especially when she learned that a murder had just been committed! And the way it was done was exactly the same as the one that killed her friend 12 years ago... The bodies had been positioned as close as possible to a famous painting...

What could possibly have happened to have this repeated? Was it a recognition of the earlier death? Or was it a copycat? And, she had to wonder, surely, it could not have anything to do with her return???

Damn it! Am I to be haunted again

 by this new murder?

No way around it, I was in our main character's corner right from the beginning... We soon learn that not only had her best friend been murdered, her father the Police Chief had committed suicide...

And, would you believe, while she thought that, maybe, if she whispered her mantra hour on the hour, the thought crossed her mind that this murder could be the one to include in her new book... But, hey, this author hasn't stopped laying it on hard for Rebecca... She knew that if she did take this on, she would have to work with the town police... The man with whom she went to the senior prom and attempted to rape her... Seriously, Robert?! Anything else that you want your main character to be dealing with, I thought... LOL

Oh, let's just keep going, shall we? Soon, the boy for whom she had had a big crush in school, but who had actually been her best friend's boyfriend, was now the Sheriff... and she had flashed back to the one day in the hall when he leaned up against the wall, pinning her, flirtingly whispering...

Only to have Angie, come to interrupt him... and he walked off with her, not looking back... But, now, John Talbott knew she was back and soon came calling...

Ok that's two of the three men who had been close to her 12 years ago. The last one had been Angie's older brother! And, yep, there was more tension when he asked her out too!

Really, could it have still another twist? Well, when she finally had the time to look over some of her father's private files, she found his case file for Angie's attack. All three of the men with whom she was now, possibly, romantically involved, was on his suspect list...! Seriously, you just can't make this kinds of stuff up...unless you're Author Sells...having fun on his latest...

After I learned all this...and much more... I had to laugh at Sells' wordplay, with the title of the book... Because I was thinking. Becca, your chance at an affair...with murder...in the picture, is so not a good idea... But, you know what, as the investigation heated up, Rebecca realized one thing, and it made it all worth while, she realized that she was much stronger than she thought she was... And, that she really wanted to ride along to learn as much about the who, what, when and where of this murder mystery that she was committed to include in her next book!

You know what, readers, the real writer, Robert Sells, has created a delightful story even with the mess of murder investigations and what secrets were coming to light. His heroine proved to be more gutsy than even she thought she was...Cool, right?! And the ending was, actually, quite sweet and romantic--at the very end because it took that long to decide just who she was really attracted to enough to explore the future further! Besides ensuring that she didn't pick the serial killer...

There was heartbreak, but a cleansing type of fulfilment that only comes after a long period of living with trauma... And, with a writer investigator who now gets to be an amateur detective who actually gets to work alongside an expert, I was fully into the whodunit! Sit back and enjoy solving the mystery, that has more to do with finding a lover than actually solving the mystery... Just my personal opinion, of course... I was, in my mind, telling Becca, this one...not that one...and, for sure, definitely not the third one! Hope you enjoy as much as I did!

GABixlerReviews

Marilyn Meredith Presents Intriguing Seldom Traveled!

 "There is a road in the hearts of all of us,

hidden and seldom traveled, which leads

to the unknown secret place."

--Chief Luther Standing Bear

The dispatcher reported an escaped fugitive had been spotted headed for the small mountain community of Bear Creek. Depute Tempe Crabtree was ordered to cooperate with the federal and county authorities. It was her first day back from a vacation which had included her son's wedding. She'd also received a report of a missing woman. Welcome home...

She waited for him to give her other instructions, but he ignored her. Since she was an Indian, she was surprised he didn't want her to help track the suspect. She guessed he didn't want her on the search, perhaps because of her ethnic background, or maybe he didn't like women in law enforcement. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd run into such prejudices. "Anything else you'd like me to do?

"We have it covered." He didn't bother looking at her...

Since she wasn't needed, Tempe decided to check on the whereabouts of the missing woman. She'd been given an address of a large vacation home farther up in the mountains. It belonged to the wealthy Konstanzer family... According to the report she'd received, it was the granddaughter, Mariah Konstanzer, who was missing. Tempe knew little about Mariah except that at times her photo turned up in magazines like "People" on the arm of a movie star or famous businessman...

The Konstanzer vacation home perched atop a roky knoll. Tall pine trees poked through odd places, standing like irregular sentinels. Light poured out of the large front window that looked out over the forest below. Tempe drove up the circular driveway to the front of the house...Only seconds passed before the door was opened. A woman in her mid-thirties perhaps, with chin-length blond hair..."I'm so glad you're here. I drove to Dennison to pick up supplies and run some errands. I've been gone several hours, and when I got back, I couldn't find Mariah. It's weird because I have the car we rented at the airport."

"I'm Deputy Crabtree, and you are?"

"Oh, sorry. Amy, Amy Bennett. I'm Mariah's personal assistant..."

Tempe finished her coffee and stood. "Show me around the house. We'll make a thorough search. Let's begin with Brogan's room..."

"What's next?"

"A room similar to this one."

It turned out to be another with a double bed, a small dresser and an empty closet.

"Across the way is a utility room. We keep all the linens in there, dust mop and cleaning supplies for upstairs."

"Let's see it."

Amy pulled open the door and screamed.

~~~

Seldom Traveled

Tempe Crabtree Mystery Series

By Marilyn Meredith

This is my first time reading Marilyn Meredith, but I've found that I've always enjoyed books with Native American characters. I love the spirituality normally displayed and this book was no exception. In fact, the climatic ending made this a true winner for me. If my time permitted, I'd be reading the entire series...

Tempe Crabtree is a very cool lady and an excellent officer of the law. She is married to a minister of a local church, so he is often the one waiting at home for his wife, and more often, praying for her safety. And much prayer was needed because there was an escaped fugitive, a missing woman who was found dead--murdered, and a raging forest fire in which Tempe was caught! 

Initially, Tempe was assigned the responsibility of interviewing persons of interest; however, so many emergencies were happening at one time, that Tempe moved deeper and deeper into the investigation, finding clues that had been overlooked, including a potential threat note that had fallen and become hidden...

And through it all, readers watch her intelligence and savvy shine through as she calmly evaluates each situation and then acts to get through the latest crisis, saving others from the danger...

I was especially intrigued by the murdered victim's life as well as the fugitive, which surprised me because I've normally geared to watch the main character--which of course I did. But the murdered woman had led such a sad, to me, life as she'd taken it as a goal to break up present relationships or marriages by going after, and succeeding in seducing the involved man. Readers have to wonder what was so special about her since the men fell for her so totally... Only then to have her leave them and move on to another potential conquest. Was this the reason that she'd been killed? Of course, there were many women--those deserted or divorced now--or even her companion who she treated constantly as just a hired employee... And when her last lover came to town to try to reconcile, surely his surprised look of her death was fake...

The fugitive had broken into the cabin where the woman had been murdered and was almost caught when Crabtree went back to continue her investigation. Had he killed her during his escape? But she later met up with him and faced him through a very dangerous situation...

Another wonderfully drawn character was Nick Two John who owned an Inn and with whom Crabtree often interacted in the course of her duties... Readers can almost believe he is a shaman as he prepared tea or something to eat, seeming to know in advance she will be coming and need sustenance. Then as she spent time sharing about what case she was dealing with, Two John would leave her with a message to ponder and hopefully remember and act upon.

Surely, with Two John and her husband constantly keeping Tempe in their thoughts, she was walking a spiritual walk... And her fellow officers were right there when needed to support her. While graphic violence is downplayed in the books, Tempe still finds herself in life-and-death situations and finds her way out again...Kudos to the author for bringing Tempe Crabtree to life for her readers!


The setting, the characters, and the mystery come together in a wonderful blend! Grab a cup of tea! I read the book in one sitting and could easily have kept on reading if all of the mysteries hadn't been solved... I was hooked and so hope I get the chance to read more of this fascinating series!

I found this singer, who I believe 
could also make a wonderful Tempe Crabtree. 
What do you think?

GABixlerReviews

I'm the author of the Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery series and the Rocky Bluff P.D. crime series under the name, F. M. Meredith. Reading and writing have been a part of me since I was a little girl--a very long time ago. I love to hear from readers who have enjoyed my books. I've made many new and good friends among the readers and writers at various mystery conventions and conferences.

Hubby and I live in the foothills of the Sierra much like the place where my heroine Tempe Crabtree lives. And we once lived in a beach community that resembles Rocky Bluff. 

I've also written several stand-alone books for Kindle and paper.

I love to hear from my readers or have them visit my webpage at http://fictionforyou.com

The Drop! Top Favorite Author, Michael Connelly Presents Two Cases for Harry Bosch--A Fantastic Duet of Deceit!

Everybody counts or nobody counts...

"I want you to tell me wht happened to my son, Detective Bosch. I want the truth and I think I can trust you to give it to me."
"No matter how it falls?"
"No matter how it falls."
Bosch nodded. "I can do that." He started to get up when Irving continued. "You said once that everybody counts or nobody counts. I remember that. This would put that to the test. Does the son of your enemy count? Will you give your best effort for him? Will you be relentless for him?"
Bosch stared at him. Everybody counts or nobody counts. It was his code as a man. But it was never spoken. It was only followed. He was sure he had never said it to Irving...
~~~

As expected, Chu was full of questions while they were driving out of downtown on the 101 freeway. They had been partnered for nearly two years and by now Bosch was more than used to the manifestation of Chu's insecurities in a nonstop verbal outpouring of questions, comments and observations. He usually spoke about one thing while his real concern was some thing else. Sometimes Bosch took it easy on him and told him what he wanted to know. Sometimes he let things play out till they became excruciating to his young partner. 

"Harry, what the hell is going on? We got one case this morning and now they say we have another?"

"The LAPD is a paramilitary organization, Chu. That means when someone of higher rank tells you to do something, you do it. The order came down from the chief and we're following it. That's what going on. We'll eventually get back to the cold hit. But for now we have a live one and it's the priority.

"Sounds like bullshit politics."

"High jingo."

"What's that?"

"The confluence of police and politics. We are investigating the death of Councilman Irvin Irving's son. You know about Irving, right?

"Yeah, he was a deputy chief when I came on. Then he quit and ran for the council."

"Well, he didn't voluntarily quit. He was forced out and run for the council so he could seek his revenge on the department. Pure and simple, he lives for one thing--putting the boot to the LAPD. You should also know that back in the day, he had a particular dislike for me. We had a few collisions, you could say."

"Then why would he want you on his son's case?"

"We'll be finding that out pretty soon..."

"Harry, I need your best work on this. I don't care about your history. Put it aside. We can't have the councilman go off and say we laid down on this."

"Understood."

Bosch was silent for a moment as he thought about what else to ask.

"Chief, where is the councilman?"

"We've got him down in the lobby."

"Did he go into the room?"

"He insisted. I let him look around without touching anything and then we walked him out."

"You shouldn't have done that, Marty..."

~~~

The Drop

By Michael Connelly

Bosch is now 61, working with Cold Cases, when he's called personally into an active case--investigating the death of a councilman's son...who just happens to have been somebody with whom Harry has had problems in the past. Irvin Irving's son had died as a result of falling from a hotel window. Was it suicide, an accident, or was he murdered? Strangely enough, Irving wants Bosch on the case, forgetting the bad feelings between them, because Irving believes Bosch has the integrity to see the case through and come up with the right answers...

Of course, Irving is right and Bosch does find the answer, but...

Be prepared to hear a continuous reference to the words "High Jingo." Is Harry running a straight-forward case...or is he being played... or even betrayed? One thing he knows is that the current chief of police had probably made some deal with Irving in order to have Bosch on the case...the problem was that at this point he had no idea what the bargain included, confident, though, that he'd figure it out before long.   

Actually, both of the cases were assigned specifically to Bosch, and Chu, the first one, a cold case, was explained by the lieutenant, noting that there was something wrong about the case and it had to be kept confidential until they discovered what exactly happened... Because it went back to the discovery of DNA of one Clayton S. Pell, who had just been released from prison. Bosch immediately saw this guy guilty, given his known record...except that he would have been eight years old when the blood had been left at the scene... The victim had been 19 when she was snatched on the street and the blood had come from a small smear found on her neck...  To clear Pell, they were going to have to find the real killer... 

Several characters in the story--Bosch's daughter and Clayton Pell's counselor--allow readers a chance to see the personal side of Harry. The relationship between Harry and his daughter is wonderfully sound and she's already planning to join the Police Academy, with Bosch already training her in all the little ways he has become such a great officer. Then, Harry is attracted to his counselor, Hannah Stone, when he goes to meet Pell for the first time.

Twenty minutes later he walked through the front door of his home to find his daughter reading a book and playing music in the living room. He stood there frozen in the entranceway, taco bad in one hand, briefcase in the other, murder book under his arm.

"What?" she said.

"You're listening to Art Pepper?"

"Yeah, I think it's good music to read by."

He smiled and went into the kitchen...

"How are school?" he asked while opening his briefcase. "Did you skip lunch again?"

"School was a drag like always. I skipped lunch to study for the algebra quiz."

"How'd you do?"

"I probably flunked."

He knew she was exaggerating. She was a good student. She hated algebra because she could not perceive a life where it would become useful. Especially when at the moment she wanted to be a cop--or so she said...

~~~

Another female friend is Kizmin Rider who once was Harry partner and who is now in the Chief's office Readers first meet her during an interesting discussion of another DROP... Bosch has asked for an extension to his retirement for another five years. During this book, Harry goes back and forth considering whether he just wants to go ahead and retire and be with his daughter more than he normally has in the past...

One thing immediately became apparent to Bosch...a cop was probably involved in the death of Irvng... Connelly spends some time in the novel to explain about the controversial choke hold that had been used in the past--I appreciated this back-fill information since all of us are aware of the deaths attributed to this hold! And the outrage from those deaths! And, indeed, Bosch's assumption moved forward in a direction that could lead to the death actually being a murder... Because that choke hold left a mark on Irving's body!

There is an interesting relationship with Bosch and his partner that creates a unique situation later in the book. Bosch is a man who is used to working on his own and has a difficult time sharing all that he is thinking. I could understand that because so many different options were coming forward for consideration...in both cases... But the Irving case was supposed to be top priority, while Bosch was interested in the cold case... No matter what, both cases were being handled, whether or not Harry was willing to feed every thought to others, especially Irving's father...

[Harry] began by carefully rereading all the reports and summaries he had clipped into the binder. He let the information flow over him and he looked for new angles and colors. If George Irving jumped, then Bosch had to more than simply believe it. He had to be able to prove it not only to the power that be but, most important, to himself. And he wasn't quite there yet. A suicide was a premeditated killing. Bosch needed to find motive and opportunity and means. He had some of each but not enough.

The CD changed moved to the next disc and Bosch soon recognized Chet Baker's trumpet. The song was "Night Bird" from a German import. Bosch had seen Baker perform the song in a club on O'Farrell in San Francisco in 1982, the only time he ever saw him play live. By then Baker's cover-boy looks and West Coast cool had been sucked out of him by drugs and life, but he could still make the trumpet sound like a human voice on a dark night. In another six years he would be dead from a fall from a hotel window in Amsterdam.

Bosch looked at his daughter. "You put this in there?"

She looked up from the book. "If this Chet Baker? Yeah, I wanted to hear him because of your case and the poem in the hallway."

Chet Baker

looks out from his hotel room 

across the Amstel to the girl

cycling by the canal who lifts

her hand and waves and when

she smiles he is back in times

when every Hollywood producer

wanted to turn his life

into that bittersweet story

where he falls badly, but only

in love with Pier Angeli,

Carol Lynley, Natalie Wood;

that day he strolled into the studio,

fall of fifty-two, and played

those perfect lines across

the chords of My Funny Valentine--

-

and now when he looks up from

his window and her passing smile

into the blue of a perfect sky

he knows this is one of those

rare days when he can truly fly.

"I looked him up on Wikipedia," Maddie said. "They never knew for sure if he jumped or just fell. Some people said drug dealers pushed him out.

...Bosch felt he was missing something...It was there but he just couldn't read it...

Harry suddenly had it!

~~~

         Oh yeah, reading Michael Connelly's series with Harry Bosch sure makes a very smooth read! You've probably read them all if you are a fan, but like I said in this month's "What's Happening" I had been neglecting my top favorite authors to respond to other requests for reviews...Won't let that happen again. I missed several of this series since the early ones I had read many years ago, and it was great to watch Bosch, one of my favorite cop characters, working again... Hope you enjoy learning about The Drop. I loved it!

And by the way, in case you, too, hadn't heard, the television series is now available!

I started to watch the first one on my Fire, but the book kept calling me back...I'd rather read the book first...LOL

Anyway, if you haven't read this author, surely you are not a fiction reader, else there'd be no way you haven't heard of him! Do check this book out, in particular, and we'll see what else is waiting on my book shelf for the next book by one of my top favorite authors! This one is a must-read for fans of the series and highly recommended for those who love thrillers, suspense and police action!


GABixlerReviews

Michael Connelly was born in Philadelphia, PA on July 21, 1956. He moved to Florida with his family when he was 12 years old. Michael decided to become a writer after discovering the books of Raymond Chandler while attending the University of Florida. Once he decided on this direction he chose a major in journalism and a minor in creative writing -- a curriculum in which one of his teachers was novelist Harry Crews.

After graduating in 1980, Connelly worked at newspapers in Daytona Beach and Fort Lauderdale, Florida, primarily specializing in the crime beat. In Fort Lauderdale he wrote about police and crime during the height of the murder and violence wave that rolled over South Florida during the so-called cocaine wars. In 1986, he and two other reporters spent several months interviewing survivors of a major airline crash. They wrote a magazine story on the crash and the survivors which was later short-listed for the Pulitzer Prize for feature writing. The magazine story also moved Connelly into the upper levels of journalism, landing him a job as a crime reporter for the Los Angeles Times, one of the largest papers in the country, and bringing him to the city of which his literary hero, Chandler, had written.

After three years on the crime beat in L.A., Connelly began writing his first novel to feature LAPD Detective Hieronymus Bosch. The novel, The Black Echo, based in part on a true crime that had occurred in Los Angeles, was published in 1992 and won the Edgar Award for Best First Novel by the Mystery Writers of America. Connelly followed up with three more Bosch books, The Black Ice, The Concrete Blonde, and The Last Coyote, before publishing The Poet in 1996--a thriller with a newspaper reporter as a protagonist. In 1997, he went back to Bosch with Trunk Music, and in 1998 another non-series thriller, Blood Work, was published. It was inspired in part by a friend's receiving a heart transplant and the attendant "survivor's guilt" the friend experienced, knowing that someone died in order that he have the chance to live. Connelly had been interested and fascinated by those same feelings as expressed by the survivors of the plane crash he wrote about years before. The movie adaptation of Blood Work was released in 2002, directed by and starring Clint Eastwood.

Connelly's next book, Angels Flight, was released in 1999 and was another entry in the Harry Bosch series. The non-series novel Void Moon was released in 2000 and introduced a new character, Cassie Black, a high-stakes Las Vegas thief. His 2001 release, A Darkness More Than Night, united Harry Bosch with Terry McCaleb from Blood Work, and was named one of the Best Books of the Year by the Los Angeles Times.

In 2002, Connelly released two novels. The first, the Harry Bosch book City Of Bones, was named a Notable Book of the Year by the New York Times. The second release was a stand-alone thriller, Chasing The Dime, which was named one of the Best Books of the Year by the Los Angeles Times.

Lost Light was published in 2003 and named one of the Best Books of 2003 by the Los Angeles Times. It is another in the Harry Bosch series but the first written in first person.
Connelly's 2004 novel, The Narrows, is the sequel to The Poet. It was named one of the Best Books of 2004 by the Los Angeles Times. His 11th Harry Bosch novel, The Closers, was published in 2005, and debuted at #1 on the New York Times bestseller list. The Lincoln Lawyer, Connelly's first-ever legal thriller and his 16th novel, was published in 2005 and also debuted at #1 on the New York Times bestseller list. This book introduced Mickey Haller, a Los Angeles defense attorney who works out of the back seat of his Lincoln Town Car. The movie adaptation, starring Matthew McConaughey as Haller, was released in 2011. This is the second film adapted from a Connelly novel.

Crime Beat, a non-fiction collection of crime stories from Michael's days as a journalist, was released in 2006, as was the Harry Bosch novel, Echo Park. The Overlook, Michael's 18th novel, was originally serialized in the New York Times Magazine. This Harry Bosch story was published as a book with additional material in 2007.

Michael's 19th novel, The Brass Verdict, was released in 2008, and debuted at #1 on the New York Times bestseller list. It introduces Lincoln lawyer Mickey Haller to LAPD Detective Harry Bosch in a fast-paced legal thriller. Michael's 20th novel, The Scarecrow, was released in 2009, and reunites reporter Jack McEvoy and FBI Agent Rachel Walling for the first time since The Poet. It too debuted at #1 on the New York Times bestseller list. Michael released a second book in 2009, the 15th Harry Bosch novel, Nine Dragons. In this story, Bosch goes to Hong Kong to find his missing daughter.

In 2010, The Reversal was released and debuted at #1 on the New York Times bestseller list. This book has Mickey Haller and Harry Bosch working together on the high-profile retrial of a brutal child murder. The Fifth Witness, a Mickey Haller novel, was released in 2011 and also debuted at #1. Michael's 2011 novel, The Drop, a Harry Bosch novel, debuted at #1. Another #1 ranked book, The Black Box, focuses on Harry Bosch once again and is Michael's 25th novel. Its release came in Michael's 20th year in publishing, 2012. The Gods of Guilt , a Mickey Haller novel, was released in 2013, and debuted at #1 on the New York Times bestseller list. The Burning Room, a Harry Bosch novel, was released in 2014 and debuted at #1 on the New York Times bestseller list.

Fifty-eight million copies of Connelly's books have sold worldwide and he has been translated into thirty-nine foreign languages. He has won the Edgar Award, Anthony Award, Macavity Award, Los Angeles Times Best Mystery/Thriller Award, Shamus Award, Dilys Award, Nero Award, Barry Award, Audie Award, Ridley Award, Maltese Falcon Award (Japan), .38 Caliber Award (France), Grand Prix Award (France), Premio Bancarella Award (Italy), and the Pepe Carvalho award (Spain) .

In addition to his literary work, Michael is one of the producers and writers of the TV show, "Bosch," which is streaming on Amazon Prime Instant Video now. All 10 episodes can be watched here: http://amzn.to/1A1czNc

Michael lives with his family in Florida.