In the near future, advances in medicine and quantum computing make human cloning a reality. For the wealthy, cheating death is the ultimate luxury. To anticloning militants, it’s an abomination against nature. For young Constance “Con” D’Arcy, who was gifted her own clone by her late aunt, it’s terrifying.
After a routine monthly upload of her consciousness—stored for that inevitable transition—something goes wrong. When Con wakes up in the clinic, it’s eighteen months later. Her recent memories are missing. Her original, she’s told, is dead. If that’s true, what does that make her?
The secrets of Con’s disorienting new life are buried deep. So are those of how and why she died. To uncover the truth, Con is retracing the last days she can recall, crossing paths with a detective who’s just as curious. On the run, she needs someone she can trust. Because only one thing has become clear: Con is being marked for murder—all over again.
CONSTANCE (Constance #1) by Matthew FitzSimmons is an exciting and thought provoking dystopian sci-fi mystery thriller that is the first of a two-book series. In the near future, if you have the millions to spare, human cloning is a reality.
Constance “Con” D’Arcy is a talented musician, who survives a horrible traffic accident which kills almost every member of the band she plays in. The accident moves her to accepting the gift of her own clone from her aunt who is the co-founder and brilliant mind behind the Palingenesis clinic.
After a routine monthly upload of her consciousness which should only take hours, Con wakes up months later in the body of her clone. She is told her original is dead, but the transition that should have happened with memories from her last upload has left her with no memory of the last 18 months.
Con is determined to find out what happened to her original and discover what has happened in the last 18 months. She cannot trust anyone who is offering to help because they all have ulterior motives and agendas. Caught between the wealthy and powerful Vernon Gaddis and Dr. Brooke Fenton fighting over what is hidden in Con’s brain and the Children of Adam who want the death of all clones, Con can trust in only herself.
This is an amazing story! I could not put it down. Constance “Con” is a protagonist that is memorable. She at times is a little too curious for her own good, but she is also fearless and resilient. She must face discrimination and bigotry as a clone at the same time she deals with the ethics of being a clone herself. Mr. FitzSimmons takes the reader through ethical and philosophical questions on cloning intertwined in the story and dialogue of his various characters. Also, and no small part of the story is an intricate crime mystery that has so many twists and surprises I could not stop turning the pages. Throw in some great rock band references and I was hooked. This book does not end with a cliffhanger, but there is an open question at the end of the story and the promise of a second book to come. I cannot wait!
I highly recommend this dystopian sci-fi mystery!
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Author Bio
Matthew FitzSimmons, an American boy from Illinois, grew up in London in the 1970s under the baleful eye of the Kings Road punks. His otherwise idyllic childhood was shattered by the traumatic experience of seeing Star Wars on December 27, 1977 in Leicester Square, listening to his father sleep through what was clearly the greatest cinematic achievement of all time, and fearing he was adopted.
For college, he attended Swarthmore College where he earned a B.A. in Psychology but lived largely in and for the theater.
After several years in New York City, and having learned he wouldn’t do absolutely anything to make it, he absconded to China. There he wrote a first novel (the less said about which the better), played center back for a foreigner’s soccer team, sparked a near riot and was forced to write a ziwo pipan (self-criticism) by the University of Nanjing—his first work of political fiction.
He now lives in Washington, D.C., where he taught English literature and theater at a private high school for over a decade. He cohabitates with a pair of old boots, collects bourbon and classic soul LPs, and wonders if he will ever write anything half as good as the first sentence of James Crumley’s The Last Good Kiss.
Today I am on the Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour and sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for SILENCE IN THE LIBRARY (A Lily Adler Mystery Book #2) by Katharine Schellman.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
Regency widow Lily Adler didn’t expect to find a corpse when visiting a family friend. Now it’s up to her to discover the killer in the charming second installment in the Lily Adler mysteries.
Regency widow Lily Adler has finally settled into her new London life when her semi-estranged father arrives unexpectedly, intending to stay with her while he recovers from an illness. Hounded by his disapproval, Lily is drawn into spending time with Lady Wyatt, the new wife of an old family friend. Lily barely knows Lady Wyatt. But she and her husband, Sir Charles, seem as happy as any newly married couple until the morning Lily arrives to find the house in an uproar and Sir Charles dead.
All signs indicate that he tripped and struck his head late at night. But when Bow Street constable Simon Page is called to the scene, he suspects foul play. And it isn’t long before Lily stumbles on evidence that Sir Charles was, indeed, murdered.
Mr. Page was there when Lily caught her first murderer, and he trusts her insight into the world of London’s upper class. With the help of Captain Jack Hartley, they piece together the reasons that Sir Charles’s family might have wanted him dead. But anyone who might have profited from the old man’s death seems to have an alibi… until Lily receives a mysterious summons to speak with one of the Wyatts’ maids, only to find the young woman dead when she arrives.
Mr. Page believes the surviving family members are hiding the key to the death of both Sir Charles and the maid. To uncover the truth, Lily must convince the father who doesn’t trust or respect her to help catch his friend’s killer before anyone else in the Wyatt household dies.
Genre: Historical Mystery Published by: Crooked Lane Books Publication Date: July 13th 2021 Number of Pages: 352 ISBN: 1643857045 (ISBN13: 9781643857046) Series: Lily Adler Mystery #2 | The Lily Adler series are stand alone mysteries but even more fabulous if read in sequence
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
SILENCE IN THE LIBRARY (A Lily Adler Mystery Book #2) by Katharine Schellman is the second amateur sleuth historical mystery featuring the intelligent and independent Regency era young widow, Lily Adler. This is a strong addition to this new series. It is an intricately plotted mystery with Regency era characters that are believable to their time in history. The mystery can be read as a standalone, but it continues with character interactions that began in the first book of the series.
Lily Adler returns home from an outing to find her father, George Pierce has moved into her London home for his stay in town for a visit to a physician. Lily and her father have always been critical of Lily and his stay is not welcome, but she cannot send him away. Her father tells Lily his old friend and neighbor has remarried and so Lily volunteers to pay a congratulatory call on the new couple to get out of her home and away from their arguments.
Lily and her friend Captain Jack Hatley pay a visit to Sir Charles Wyatt and his new wife. The visit becomes uncomfortable when they witness the eldest son’s rudeness to his father’s new wife and the cousin is caught stealing money from Sir Charles office drawer. The next morning Sir Charles is found dead and Simon Page, the Bow Street constable determines the man was murdered.
Once again, Lily refuses to stay out of Mr. Page’s case when she knows she can be of assistance. Soon there is another murder. Can Lily, Jack and Simon sort through all the stories told by the family members and servants to discover a killer?
This is such an enjoyable and engaging mystery read. I love Lily, Jack and Simon and the way their personal interactions are evolving in this series as you learn more about each. All the characters are realistically portrayed for the Regency era and the descriptions of social interactions, clothing and settings add depth and richness to the story. The mystery plot moves at a good pace and has many red herrings and twists that kept me changing my mind about the guilty party right up until the climax. I am looking forward to more mysteries with Lily and I am also looking forward to how the author handles her private life now that she is out of mourning.
I highly recommend this historical mystery, the series and the author!
***
Excerpt
Given the way she hadn’t hesitated to interfere in the Wyatt family’s affairs, Lily expected Lady Wyatt to politely rescind her invitation to ride the next morning. But she had insisted, saying her arm was sure to be better by morning. So after breakfast, Lily instructed Anna to lay out her riding habit.
Though she had forgone her usual routine of breakfasting in her own room and instructed Mrs. Carstairs to lay breakfast in the parlor, Lily hadn’t seen any sign of her father. She didn’t mind. If she couldn’t be cozy while she dined, she was at least happy to be alone. And it gave her the opportunity to go over the week’s menus with her housekeeper and offer several suggestions for managing her father’s requests while he was with them.
“And do you know how long might that be, Mrs. Adler?” Mrs. Carstairs asked carefully. “Mr. Branson was unable to say when I spoke to him last night.”
Lily pursed her lips. “For as long as he needs, Mrs. Carstairs. Or as long as I can bear his company. My record on that score is fifteen years, however, so let us hope it will not come to that.”
The housekeeper wisely didn’t say anything else.
Lily’s pleasant solitude lasted until she was making her way back upstairs to change, when she found her path blocked by her father’s belligerent frame. Unwell he might be, but George Pierce was still a solid, imposing man, and Lily had to remind herself to square her shoulders and meet his scowl with a smile as he did his best to tower over her from the step above.
“Good morning, Father.”
He didn’t return the greeting. “I am going to breakfast,” he announced, eyebrows raised.
Lily waited for a moment and then, when no more information was forthcoming, nodded. “I hope you enjoy it. Mrs. Carstairs is an excellent cook.”
He sniffed. “And I assume your excessively early rising is an attempt to avoid my company?”
“It is past nine o’clock, father,” Lily said. “Hardly excessive. And I have an appointment this morning, so if you will excuse me—”
“What is your appointment?”
He couldn’t curtail or dictate what she did with her time, Lily reminded herself. Even if having him in her home left her feeling as if her independence were being slowly stripped away once more, in practical terms he had no say in her life anymore. Answering his question was only polite. “An engagement with a friend—”
“That sailor again, I assume?”
Lily took a deep breath. “Captain Hartley was also invited, but no, the engagement is to ride with Lady Wyatt this morning. Which I assume you would approve of?” Seeing that she had momentarily surprised him into silence, she took the opportunity to push past her father. “You would like her, I think. She is charming and elegant.”
“And her husband’s a fool for marrying again,” Mr. Pierce grumbled, but Lily was already heading down the hall and didn’t answer.
Jack was coming just before ten to escort her to the Wyatts’ house, and Lily was in a hurry to dress and escape her father once again. Her room was empty when she walked in, but Anna had laid out her riding habit on the bed, pressed and ready, its military-style buttons glinting in the morning light amid folds of emerald-green fabric.
Lily stared at it without moving. She had forgotten that her habit wasn’t suitable to wear when she was in mourning.
She was still staring when Anna returned, the freshly brushed riding hat in her hands. When she saw Lily’s posture, Anna paused.
“You don’t have another, I’m afraid,” she said gently.
Lily nodded, unable to speak. One hand reached out to brush the heavy fabric of the habit; the other clenched a fold of the gray dress she wore. She had stopped wearing colors even before Freddy died—in those last months of his illness, she had traded all her pretty dresses for drab gowns more suited to nursing an invalid who would never recover. And even after full mourning was complete, she had lingered in the muted shades of half mourning long past when anyone would have required it of her, even Freddy’s own family. Laying aside the visual reminders of her grief felt too much like leaving behind her marriage.
But that had meant more than two years of sorrow. And in the last few months, since she had come to London and taken control of her life once more, something had shifted inside her.
“Yes, thank you, Anna,” Lily said quietly, her voice catching a little. She cleared her throat and said, more firmly, “I will wear this one.”
***
She managed to leave the house without encountering her father again. When her butler, Carstairs, sent word that Captain Hartley was waiting in the front hall, Lily felt a pang of anxiety. Jack had loved Freddy like a brother. And he had never given any indication that he thought her mourning had gone on long enough.
Jack was in the middle of removing his hat, and his hand stilled at the brim as he caught sight of her. Even Carstairs fell still as they watched her come down the stairs, the heavy folds of her green skirts buttoned up on one side to allow her to walk freely and a single dyed- green feather curling over the brim of her hat and flirting with her brown curls.
Lily felt exposed as she descended the final few steps, though she was bolstered by the approval that softened Carstairs’s smile. She had never considered herself a shy person, but she could barely meet Jack’s eyes as she crossed the hall to give him her hand.
For a moment neither of them spoke, and when she raised her gaze at last, Lily thought she saw the captain blinking something from the corner of his eye. “That was Freddy’s favorite color,” he said at last, his voice catching.
Lily nodded. “I know.”
Jack’s jaw tightened for a moment as he swallowed. But he smiled. “Well done, Lily,” he said quietly. “Good for you.”
***
There was a lightness between them as they made the quick journey to Wimpole Street. As Jack waved down a hack carriage and handed her in, Lily found herself laughing at all of his quips or droll pieces of gossip, even the ones she normally would have chastised him for repeating. And Jack kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
“Do I look that dreadful?” Lily asked at last as he handed her down from the carriage in front of the Wyatts’ home.
“Quite the opposite,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he released her hand. “Did you know, you are actually quite pretty?”
“You mean you did not find me pretty before?”
“I think I had forgotten to consider it one way or another,” Jack admitted, grinning. “What a shame everyone has left London already; you would cause quite a sensation.”
Lily shook her head. “I know full well I am not handsome enough for that.”
“Surprise can cause as much of a sensation as admiration,” Jack pointed out.
“Captain!” Lily exclaimed in mock indignation. “You were supposed to argue with me!”
They continued bantering as they mounted the steps to Sir Charles’s townhouse, only to fall silent and exchange a puzzled glance as they realized that the door was half-open, the sounds of raised voices echoing from within.
Lily glanced at Jack, an uneasy sensation beginning to curl in the pit of her stomach. “Should we knock?”
He shrugged and did so, rapping firmly on the wood of the door. There was no response, but it swung open a little more. After hesitating a moment, Lily bit her lip and said, “Well, we ought to at least make sure Lady Wyatt knows we’ve come. If it is no longer convenient to ride, she can certainly tell us to leave.”
“And you were already happy to interfere yesterday,” Jack pointed out, though she could hear the unease lurking beneath his playful tone. “We might as well do it again.”
“Very true.” Lily pushed the door the rest of the way open and strode in, Jack following close behind.
The front hall was empty, but they could still hear voices not far away, now low and urgent, and the sound of quiet crying from somewhere just out of sight. The uneasy feeling began to spread through Lily’s chest and arms, and she reached out her hand in blind anxiety. She was relieved to feel Jack take it and press it reassuringly into the crook of his arm.
She had just decided that they should leave after all when quick steps echoed down the stairs. A moment later Frank Wyatt came rushing down, checking himself at the bottom as he stared at them in surprise.
His face was pale and his eyes red as he gaped at them, his easy manner vanished. “Lily? And Captain . . . I’ve quite forgot your name. You must excuse . . . what are you doing here?”
“The door was open, and no one answered our knock,” Lily said, feeling a little ashamed of their hastiness in entering. “I apologize, Frank; we did not mean to intrude, but we had an appointment to ride with Lady Wyatt this morning. Is everyone well?”
“Is everyone . . . No. No.” Frank gripped the banister with one hand, his knuckles white. “I am afraid that Lady Wyatt will not be able to ride today. My father . . .” He swallowed. “My father has died.”
Lily stared at him, unable to make sense of his words. They had seen Sir Charles just the day before. If he had seemed a little older and weaker than she remembered, he had still been utterly vital and alive. “Died? But . . . how?”
“In point of fact,” a new voice said quietly from behind them. “It seems Sir Charles Wyatt has been killed.”
***
Author Bio
Katharine Schellman is a former actor, one-time political consultant, and currently the author of the Lily Adler Mysteries. A graduate of the College of William & Mary, Katharine currently lives and writes in the mountains of Virginia in the company of her family and the many houseplants she keeps accidentally murdering.
When a young woman is found murdered in a Painters Mill motel, Chief of Police Kate Burkholder is shocked to discover she once knew the victim. Rachael Schwartz was a charming but troubled Amish girl who left the fold years ago and fled Painters Mill. Why was she back in town? And who would kill her so brutally?
Kate remembers Rachael as the only girl who was as bad at being Amish as Kate was—and those parallels dog her. But the more Kate learns about Rachael’s life, the more she’s convinced that her dubious reputation was deserved. As a child, Rachael was a rowdy rulebreaker whose decision to leave devastated her parents and best friend. As an adult, she was charismatic and beautiful, a rabble-rouser with a keen eye for opportunity no matter who got in her way. Her no-holds-barred lifestyle earned her a lot of love and enemies aplenty—both English and Amish.
As the case heats to a fever pitch and long-buried secrets resurface, a killer haunts Painters Mill. Someone doesn’t want Rachael’s past—or the mysteries she took with her to the grave—coming to light. As Kate digs deeper, violence strikes again, this time hitting close to home. Will Kate uncover the truth and bring a murderer to justice? Or will a killer bent on protecting a terrible past stop her once and for all—and let the fallen be forgotten?
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A Simple Murder Book Description
Together for the first time in print, A Simple Murder features six original short stories starring whip-smart chief of police, Kate Burkholder.
While on vacation with her partner John Tomasetti in LONG LOST, Kate discovers that the old house where they’re staying is haunted by a girl who disappeared decades before…
An abandoned baby is discovered on the Amish bishop’s front porch in A HIDDEN SECRET, and Kate is called in to investigate.
SEEDS OF DECEPTION unearths the secrets of Kate Burkholder’s own Amish past―and lays the groundwork for her future career in law enforcement.
In the midst of a power outage in Painters Mill, a teenage girl is attacked at an Amish party in ONLY THE LUCKY.
IN DARK COMPANY is the story of an injured woman with amnesia who seeks Kate’s help in trying to remember her attacker’s identity…and her own.
In IN PLAIN SIGHT, Kate investigates what she believes is a straightforward hit-and-run accident―but soon uncovers a story of teenage passion that may have led to attempted murder.
***
Elise’s Thoughts
Fallen by Linda Castillo brings back the wonderful character, Chief of Police Kate Burkholder. Fans of this series are never disappointed with these amazing stories, and this novel is no different.
The plot begins with a young woman brutally murdered at a Painter’s Mill motel. Called to investigate, Police Chief Kate Burkholder realizes she knew the victim, Rachel Schwartz. She and Kate had some things in common, not really fitting into the Amish community when they were young women.
This story allows readers to get a further glimpse into Kate’s life before she left the Amish community. There is a mixture of old Amish traditions with the changing values of some. People are led to understand why Kate and Rachel felt the need to join the “English community.” As a child, Rachael was a rowdy rulebreaker whose decision to leave devastated her parents and best friend, Loretta. As an adult, she continued to be a rabble-rouser, not caring who she hurt to succeed in life. Her no-holds-barred lifestyle earned her a lot of enemies, both English and Amish.
Through Kate’s investigations people learn of frequent explanations for why officers think and act in a certain way. Kate realizes someone doesn’t want Rachael’s past, or the mysteries she took with her to the grave, coming to light. As Kate digs deeper, violence strikes again, this time literally hitting close to home as Kate is put through the ringer, having to fight for her own life.
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With A Simple Murder, readers are treated to another Linda Castillo book, out this year. These six short stories feature Kate Burkholder and her partner in crime (and the bedroom) John Tomasetti. The stories are not as complex, dark, or gritty as the novels. There are crimes of greed, jealousy and passion. Even with short stories, Castillo has a knack for pulling readers into the story by weaving in a fascinating plot line with interesting characters, highlighting Kate Burkholder’s abilities as the police chief of Painters Hill.
The stories’ plots:
Long Lost has Kate and her lover John Tomasetti on vacation when they are asked to investigate a girl who just disappeared years ago.
A Hidden Secret has a baby abandoned on a Bishop’s doorstep. The infant was left with some items which led Kate to believe that the mother might be Amish. Kate and John are determined to find the mother.
Seeds of Deception explores Kate’s Amish past. She wonders who burnt a barn, and were her friends involved.
Only The Lucky delves into the rager parties with drugs, alcohol, and music. When one of the Amish girls attending the rager is attacked and left for dead, Kate has to find out who wanted to hurt this young woman.
In Dark Company Kate must find the person who tried to kill a woman. The problem is the victim has amnesia and Kate wonders if she is hiding anything or is truly a victim.
In Plain Sight a teenage Amish boy, Noah Kline, is seriously injured by what appeared to be a hit and run. But Kate discovers there were some who had motives to injure Noah because he was dating an English girl.
***
Elise’s Author Interview
Elise Cooper: With both Fallen and A Simple Murder you have twists and turns.
Linda Castillo: It is satisfying as a mystery writer to lead the reader down a slightly wrong path whether in the short stories or the novel. But I also leave subtle clues to be fair.
EC: In Fallen, there are more glimpses of Kate’s past?
LC: I am always thinking of Kate’s past. Last year’s book, Outsider, delved into her years before she became Police Chief in Ohio. This book gives glimpses of Kate shortly before she left the Amish community.
EC: How would you describe the victim, Rachel?
LC: Kate knew Rachel as a child since she sometimes babysat her. Rachel was a rebel rouser from the time she was two years old, and it got worse from there. Kate realizes as a child Rachel was a ‘pistol” type personality. In some ways she could be loveable, while in other ways she was maddening and disrespectful. As she became an adult Rachel did really bad things. She had aspects of a sociopath without much of a conscience. She was a rule breaker, risk taker, could not identify boundaries, and stepped over the line. But even with all that, Kate felt Rachel deserved justice and did not deserve to be bludgeoned to death.
EC: How would you describe Rachel’s friend Loretta?
LC: She was always Rachel’s best friend. A rule follower, the polar opposite of Rachel, because she always wanted to do the right thing. She was very protective of Rachel and never abandoned her even when Rachel had “Fallen” from the graces of the Amish community. She always knew there was some good buried inside Rachel.
EC: Rachel wrote a tell all book about the Amish community. Did that ever really happen?
LC: There were actual books, which I have read. The authors were disgruntled so they wrote a book. Rachel made a lot of enemies with her book, because there were people in Painters Mill who did not want things to come to light, including Kate’s brother.
EC: What is the Amish rager?
LC: A rager was a huge outdoor party, held in a barn or field, without adults. There was music, alcohol, and sometimes the English showed up. The gathering had a lot of rule breaking before the Amish were baptized, many on rumspringa. I wrote about it in one of the short stories and in this novel. I knew about it because I was sent an article that said the sheriff had to arrest 74 Amish teenagers. Because Amish teens are pretty well behaved and had led protective lives some act out during rumspringa.
EC: Did you base anything on the Killbuck clan, considered to be Hutterites?
LC: It is loosely based on a clan in Ohio. In 2013, there was an incident in which Amish religious symbols were violated. Once a woman gets married, she no longer cuts her hair, and the husband does not shave his beard. A bishop directed his followers to forcibly cut the hair and beards of other members of the Amish faith. Prosecutors actually charged sixteen with a hate crime. In this novel, I just took it a step further, fictionalized it, and made them cult-like.
EC: Kate had some similar qualities to young Rachel?
LC: Both did not follow the rules although Kate knew boundaries. Kate did see parallels between the two of them. They got in trouble and did not respect many of the Amish norms. In some way they were kindred spirits with spunk since both drank and smoked.
EC: In A Simple Murder readers get an understanding of the Kate and John relationship?
LC: Kate’s biological clock is ticking since she is in her mid-thirties. The wonderful thing about fiction is that the characters do not have to age. It has been satisfying as a writer to see John Tomesetti heal. After he bought the farm and barn and fixed it up, he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with Kate. They are going to stay together and at some point, will get married.
EC: A Simple Murder is a compilation of short stories?
LC: Yes. They were previously released in e-format. These stories are not as dark, a little lighter, more fun, and not quite so heavy. My goal was to try to capture the setting, characters, and keep the mystery straight forward.
EC: When will your next short story be released?
LC: It will be probably released before my next book Hidden.
EC: What about your next book?
LC:Hidden will be out this time next year. The setting is in Kish Valley in the middle part of Pennsylvania. Kate was asked by three elders from that area to investigate a Cold Case where a Bishop’s remains are found after eighteen years.
THANK YOU!!
BIO: Elise Cooper has written book reviews and interviewed best-selling authors since 2009. Her reviews have covered several different genres, including thrillers, mysteries, women’s fiction, romance and cozy mysteries. An avid reader, she engages authors to discuss their works, and to focus on the descriptions of their characters and the plot. While not writing reviews, Elise loves to watch baseball and visit the ocean in Southern California, with her dog and husband.
Taryn Moore is young, beautiful and brilliant…so why would she kill herself? When Detective Frankie Loomis arrives on the scene to investigate the girl’s fatal plunge from her apartment balcony, she knows in her gut there’s more to the story, especially after the autopsy reveals that the college senior was pregnant. It could be reason enough for suicide-or a motive for murder.
To English professor Jack Dorian, Taryn was the ultimate fantasy: intelligent, adoring, and completely off limits. But there was also a dark side to Taryn, a dangerous streak that threatened those she turned her affections to–including Jack. And now that she’s dead, his problems are just beginning.
After Frankie uncovers a trove of sordid secrets, it becomes clear that Jack may know the truth. He is guilty of deception, but is he capable of cold-blooded murder?
***
Elise’s Thoughts
Choose Me by Tess Gerritsen and Gary Braver delve into the world of adultery. The story conjures up feelings of betrayal, deception, guilt, and personal responsibility.
The novel opens with the death of college student Taryn Moore, who supposedly plunged to her death from the balcony of her apartment. But Boston Detective Frankie Loomis wonders if the death really was a suicide, or could it be possibly a murder. For her, the clues do not add up, knowing how college age girls act (considering she has raised twin daughters). After discovering additional and sordid secrets, the detective is even more convinced that Taryn’s death is not what it seems.
The narrative works backwards from the discovery of Taryn’s body and is delivered in alternating chapters by Taryn, Jack, and Frankie. The suspects include Professor Jack Dorian, his wife, Dr. Maggie, Taryn’s seminar nemesis, mean girls Jessica and Caitlin, Cody Atwood, the shy seminar student who has a crush on Taryn, and Liam the ex-boyfriend who Taryn is stalking.
As the book progresses, readers will also realize that Taryn is not the innocent victim. She has a dangerous streak where she can be ruthless and selfish. This shows in her two relationships, one with Liam, a childhood sweetheart who outgrew her, and the other with Jack, her college professor. With both, Taryn becomes a stalker, unwilling to accept the relationship is over.
Taryn sees herself as a victim and becomes obsessed with that feeling. After taking a college seminar, “Star Crossed Lovers,” she realizes the similarities between herself and women in Medieval and Greek mythology. All have been betrayed and abandoned by men in relationships. Whether it was Abelard and Heloise, Tristan and Isolde, Romeo and Juliet, or Jason and Medea, the men said the words “I love you,” but not for a lifetime.
The many twists and turns make for an exciting read. The authors turned the characters on their heads making the supposed victim unlikeable and the adulterer, the one people root for.
***
Elise’s Author Interview
Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for the story?
Tess Gerritsen: It occurred to me these kinds of events that are a “he said, she said,” always have two points of view. The man sees it differently than the woman. I thought how interesting it would be to base a story on an illicit affair. I talked about it with Gary, and he agreed to write the male point of view, while I wrote the female view.
Gary Braver: I wrote Jack and Tess did Detective Frankie Loomis and Taryn. We wrote by going back and forth with email.
EC: As the book progressed, I did not see Taryn as a victim and even disliked her.
TG: People are not supposed to like her just because she is a victim. There are shades of gray. We wanted to show how a victim can also be a villain. What readers want and what they desire are two different things. They think they want a likeable character but really want a fascinating character. I point to Scarlett O’ Hara. She is not a likeable character, but we cannot walk away because she is so interesting.
EC: I actually thought of Jack as the victim.
TG: Jack was the one person in the book who needed to be liked because he is our hero.
GB: I liked Jack and identified with him. I think he became a sympathetic character because of his sense of guilt and regret. He knew what he did was wrong when he violated his martial vows and professorial obligations. Title IX says professors should not date their students. Jack had an adulterous affair and was tormented with what he did.
EC: How would you describe Taryn?
TG: Brilliant, charming, and beautiful. She was like a train wreck because of her obsessiveness and how damaged and hurt she was. In the beginning she was vulnerable, betrayed, hurt, and damaged, but as the story went on, she became selfish. Her personality is like peeling an onion. As readers get deeper and deeper into knowing her, they realize she is not who she seems to be at the beginning.
EC: How would you describe Jack?
GB: Sensitive, needy, and longs for romanticism. At times he wants to believe that circumstances at home pushed him into Taryn’s arms because his wife is on a treadmill with her practice. We did not want to vilify either character or exonerate them.
EC: What role does Jack’s wife Maggie play?
TG: Is she an innocent victim or possible suspect? She is the anchor to Jack. We wrote her to show the consequences of a mistake and how lives are destroyed. Jack sees it as possibly losing the love of his life, Maggie.
GB: She is smart, dedicated, and a professional. She would never have an affair. Both she and Jack are devoted to and love each other.
EC: How would you describe Detective Frankie Loomis?
TG: She is a middle-aged mother of two teenage daughters with the wisdom of motherhood. She can sniff out trouble. I see Frankie as Jane Rizzoli in twenty years.
EC: What about the relationship between Taryn and Jack?
TG: Jack fulfills a romantic need as well as a parental lead for Taryn. Her father abandoned her, so she sees Jack as a romantic hero, the man to protect her.
EC: Medieval literature and Greek Mythology?
GB: In his seminar, “Star Struck Lovers,” Jack uses classical stories where men used and abandoned women. It is the unity that holds the book together. These ancient classics are still being debated by feminists today regarding what is an accurate and inaccurate way to interpret them. It is a history of men who do wrong and fall on their swords.
TG: Taryn feels closest to Medea who gets revenge. I would have taken this seminar if I were in college. The stories we found are ones where Taryn would see herself of being abandoned or losing a lover. They were role models for her on how she would behave. She put herself into their lives to help her live her life.
EC: Can you explain this quote from Taryn. “But if you believe entirely in fate, then you believe we have no control over our futures. That some higher power decides everything for us, good and bad. That means there are no coincidences in life, no accidents, no laws of nature, and no free will… People are ultimately responsible for their own actions.”
GB: It was referring to Romeo and Juliet and based on the notion ‘I am fated to be your lover. We are to be with each other for the rest of our lives.’
TG: Gary wrote that part of fate versus self-control. I agree that a lot of people feel they are not responsible anymore. Fate made someone do it or some politician. We need to take responsibility for our own actions. We also need to face the consequences for our actions without blaming anyone else.
EC: What do you want readers to get out of the book?
TG: It is not just a murder mystery, but also an exploration of how flawed people are. A mistake can destroy someone’s life and that we are responsible for the things we do.
EC: What about your next books?
TG: I just finished Rizzoli & Isles book thirteen. It is titled, Listen To Me and will be out in June 2022. It features Jane’s mom, Angela, who has an ex-cop boyfriend. She is frustrated because she feels no one listens to her concerns. People do not necessarily believe her instincts that something is really wrong in her neighborhood.
I am working on a spy novel. The protagonist works for the CIA and I got the idea from many retired CIA agents that live in my neighborhood.
I am also in negotiations to do a TV movie for Lifetime with a screenwriter friend of mine.
GB: My next book is titled Served Cold. It is about a mystery writer who thinks they have a breakout book until it is trashed in the New York Times by a reviewer. The author goes after the reviewer.
THANK YOU!!
BIO: Elise Cooper has written book reviews and interviewed best-selling authors since 2009. Her reviews have covered several different genres, including thrillers, mysteries, women’s fiction, romance and cozy mysteries. An avid reader, she engages authors to discuss their works, and to focus on the descriptions of their characters and the plot. While not writing reviews, Elise loves to watch baseball and visit the ocean in Southern California, with her dog and husband.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour for WOMAN IN SHADOW by Carrie Stuart Parks.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Description
Carrie Stuart Parks combines her expertise as a forensic artist with her ability to craft a gripping story in this page-turning web of light and shadow.
A woman off the grid.
Darby Graham thinks she’s on a much-needed vacation in remote Idaho to relax. But before she even arrives at the ranch, an earthquake strikes—her first clue that something is amiss. Then when a cabin on the edge of town is engulfed in flames and problems at the ranch escalate, Darby finds herself immersed in a chilling mystery.
A town on fire.
A serial arsonist sends taunting letters to the press after each fire. As a forensic linguist, this is Darby’s area of expertise . . . but the scars it’s caused her also the reason she’s trying to escape from her life.
A growing darkness.
As the shadows continue to move in, the pieces of the town around her come into sharper focus. Can she trust the one man who sees her clearly?
Genre: Mystery/Suspense Published by: Thomas Nelson Publication Date: July 13th 2021 Number of Pages: 336 ISBN: 0785239847 (ISBN13: 9780785239840) Series:Woman in Shadow is not a part of a series.
***
My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
WOMAN IN SHADOW by Carrie Stuart Parks is a Christian mystery/suspense with a hint of romance set in rural Idaho with a female protagonist who is memorable for her intelligence, courage and grit as she works to find the cause of disturbing incidents on a resort ranch she is sent to, while working to overcome PTSD from a previous horrific case gone wrong.
Darby Graham has spent two years at Clan Firinn, a program for law enforcement personnel to work on dealing with their severe PTSD. Clan Firinn has sent her undercover to Mule Shoe Ranch to use her skills as a forensic linguist to gather information regarding accidents that are sabotaging the future of the ranch.
Deputy Bram White is aware of the problems at Mule Shoe Ranch, but he is also investigating a serial arsonist. As the accidents at the ranch turn to murder, Bram turns to Darby for assistance. Are they looking for an arsonist who is also a killer, or do the two cases have separate perpetrators?
Will Darby be able to unravel all the suspects and motives before she becomes one of the killer’s victims?
I enjoyed this story from start to finish. Darby is a strong protagonist who goes through so much emotionally and physically during this story. Her backstory and the cause of her PTSD is revealed in increments throughout the story as she works to overcome all the personal obstacles thrown in her way from the killer. I also loved Ms. Parks’ addition of the dogs, Holly and Maverick, to aid Darby in so many ways during the story. Bram is a romantic interest who has his own backstory to overcome so as much as he helps Darby, he also makes her doubt herself. This has a thread of romance with no sex scenes, but a growth of understanding and acceptance. The Christian references during the story are few. The red herrings and plot twists left me guessing until the resolution which I always like.
I recommend this standalone Christian mystery/suspense!
***
Excerpt
Chapter 1
Targhee Falls, Idaho
“Why are those dogs barking?” I pointed across the wooden picnic table toward two obviously upset canines yelping nearby.
A man staring at a clipboard didn’t look up. “They’re dogs. That’s what they do. Are you Darby Graham?”
“Yes.”
The man checked something on his clipboard. “Good. You’re all here.” He had to speak up to be heard over the commotion.
Before I could ask about the dogs again, he turned and strolled toward the nearby general store.
Although the man seemed unmoved by the dogs’ distress, the other people seated around me on Adirondack chairs or at picnic tables had stopped speaking to each other and were staring. The dogs—a black Lab cross with hound-length ears, and a huge Great Dane mix—both had their tails tucked between their legs and were howling.
The picnic table trembled.
I lifted my hands off the rough pine surface but could still feel the movement under my body. A flock of birds burst from the treetops. Pinecones dropped to the ground from the towering ponderosas.
Earthquake.
I was seated near the general store, just below a plate-glass window. The glass rippled, then rattled.
Heart thudding, I dove under the table. The ground rolled under me like ocean waves. A low rumbling was followed by car alarms going off from the parking lot on the other side of the store.
The black Lab flew under the table and landed in my lap. I wrapped my arms around the quivering dog, feeling the prominent bones of her spine and rib cage. “It’s okay there, girl. You’re safe. Your big buddy isn’t so scared—”
The second quaking dog joined us, his large body pressing against my back.
The earthquake ended.
“All over.” I reached around and scratched the Dane’s chest, feeling more bones. Didn’t anyone ever feed these dogs?
Both dogs seemed content to stay put, but the weight of the Lab—even though she was too thin—was still more than my leg was used to and it was rapidly going to sleep. “Come on, sweet girl, time to get up,” I whispered.
Both dogs took the hint.
On the other hand, here under the table seemed a nice place to stay. Tucked into the shadows, I didn’t need to worry about anyone staring at me. I had room to stretch out and could smell the cut grass. I’d be prepared should another earthquake come. And my assignment was to maintain a low profile. Sitting on the ground under a table seemed to be as low profile as I could get.
Two legs appeared next to me. “Miss Graham?”
Flapperdoodle. Mr. Clipboard found me.
I crawled between the bench and table, sliding onto the seat, then glanced around. Several other people had taken similar action. Only Clipboard had noticed my reluctance to leave my hiding place.
One by one, the car alarms stopped. The slight breeze stirred the fragrance of fallen pine needles.
Mr. Clipboard stared at me for a moment, then turned toward the others. He was holding a number of fabric bags imprinted with Mule Shoe Ranch. “Don’t be worried, folks. The town of Targhee Falls is less than fifteen miles from Yellowstone. The national park routinely has between one and three thousand quakes a year—”
“Excuse me, but I’ve heard most of those quakes aren’t noticeable,” a gray-haired woman in a denim shirt said.
“Obviously some are.” The man gave her a rueful half smile and started handing out the bags after checking the attached name tags. “I’m Sam, owner of the general store over there.” He nodded toward the building featuring a two-story false front and wooden sidewalk. The peeling sign said Sam’s Mercantile. “I provide Mule Shoe with transportation, supplies, and assistance during team-building exercises. Inside these bags you’ll find a great deal of information about your stay at the ranch. The owner, Roy Zaring, wanted you to have these while you’re waiting for your transportation—”
“When will that be?” asked a handsome teen with flawless olive skin and a thick lock of black hair. “I’m not getting any cell service here.” He held up his phone. An impeccably dressed man and woman sitting at the same table gave each other sideways glances.
Sam finished handing out the bags, turned, and looked at the youth. “Those your folks?” His gaze flickered to the two people sitting with the young man.
“Yeah.”
“And I’m guessing your mom? Dad? Both? Told you they were here to take a team-building—”
“Watercolor workshop.”
“A five-day art class in the wilds of Idaho, right?”
“Yeeeaah.”
“Son, the Mule Shoe Dude Ranch is a primitive facility. No Wi-Fi. No cell reception. No television, radio . . . no electricity. You’ll have a cabin with a fireplace, a composting toilet, and a lantern at night.”
The color drained from the young man’s face. “What?” he whispered.
“That reminds me,” Sam said. “I’ll collect your cell phones and will keep them here and charged for when you return.”
I reached into my purse, took out my phone, and placed it on the table for Sam to collect. Whose brilliant idea was it to send me on assignment to a primitive facility when they know I need my computer and electricity? And five days with all these strangers? I wouldn’t even need to unpack.
“Don’t worry.” An attractive older woman sitting on a wooden Adirondack chair grinned at the boy. “There’s plenty of hot water for showers, courtesy of the natural geothermal environment. The water’s gravity fed and the food is world-class.” She looked around at all of us. “I’ve had an interest in the Mule Shoe and was here last summer, although I have to admit, I prefer to visit this time of year. Late September is perfect. You all are going to love it.”
The young man’s lips compressed into a thin line, and he seemed loath to let go of his cell. Sam kept tugging the phone until the youth relinquished it. “But what is there to do?” he asked no one in particular.
“Most of us are here for the art lessons.” Denim Shirt reached into her bag, pulled out a piece of paper, and held it up. “Listen.” She read from it. “‘You’ll find trail rides, fishing, canoeing, gold panning, mineral collecting, archery, photography, hiking, campfires, swimming—’”
“That’s what I mean.” The young man ran his hand through his hair. “There’s nothing to do.”
I tugged out the same brochure. Welcome, honored guests. We look forward to serving you during your stay with us. Your experiences here will be unforgettable for all the right reasons! You should bring to Mule Shoe your mindset for success.
Yeah, right. I’d like to set my mind on getting in, getting done, and getting home. “Sam, you mentioned transportation . . .”
“Horse and wagon.”
I was afraid of that. “Do you have a regular timetable?”
This time Sam actually focused on me. “No. The horse and wagon are available on an as-needed basis, mostly to transport new groups and supplies.”
From bad to worse. I was stuck. Now would be a good time to find a bathroom. Riding a bumpy, horse-drawn wagon would be uncomfortable enough without a full bladder. Besides, if I left now, no one would notice my slight limp. I normally wanted to be invisible, to disappear into a crowd. When Scott Thomas, my counselor, told me not to stand out, to blend in, he didn’t have to say it twice. Your final assignment before leaving us here in Clan Firinn is to check out Mule Shoe Ranch. We’ve heard rumblings that something’s not right. You’ll be registered as a guest. I’ll tell you more once you get there.
I was irritated at being sent out like this with no idea of what was expected. I now know why. Had I known I wouldn’t be able to use my computer programs or the internet, I would have put my foot down. I was fortunate to have a good memory for words.
I’d heard through the Clan Firinn grapevine that those getting ready to leave—“graduate” as they called it—would have a project that would test their progress toward wholeness. I figured they’d find out soon enough that I wasn’t ready to leave.
I rose, picked up my purse, and made my way to the general store. A cowbell jangled as I entered. “‘I got a fever,’” I muttered. “‘And the only prescription is more cowbell.’” The line made me smile. Why worry about earthquakes, lack of electricity, and the inability to do my work when the world needed more cowbell?
“What?” A young, freckle-faced woman with a smear of dirt on her nose stopped replacing items on the shelf.
“Iconic Saturday Night Live line—more cowbell?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” The interior had old oak floors, a tin ceiling, and a long counter with a glass display case. The sun through the window spotlighted twirling dust motes. Various cans still littered the floor, courtesy of the earthquake.
“Just let me know if ya need something.”
“Powder room?”
“Huh?”
“WC?”
“I think we’re sold out.”
“John? Head? Loo? Restroom?”
“Toilet?” She nodded to her right.
Fortunately, the primitive conditions did not include the store bathroom. Returning to the store, I picked up a can of soup that had rolled near me. “Do you know anything about those two dogs?” I handed her the can.
“Why are ya asking?” The woman placed it on the shelf.
“They just seem thin, that’s all.”
“Yeah, well.” She adjusted the display. “Sam’s been feeding ’em, but that’s gonna stop.”
My neck tingled. “I don’t understand.” I gave her a steady gaze.
She paused her work and looked around. We were alone in the store, but she dropped her voice to just above a whisper. “He’s just waitin’ for all of you to leave to the ranch.”
The tingling grew to an itch. My years of training as a forensic linguist kicked in, even though I was rusty. I grew very still and waited, listening for more clues in her language.
She gave up straightening the cans. “It’s like this: The dogs were owned by an old lady. I bet she was, like, at least forty.”
“Positively ancient. One foot in the grave.” I gave her a slight smile.
“Right. Her name was Shadow Woman. That’s what everyone called her. Well, that’s the nice name anyway. She was, like, a hermit, but a pretty good artist.” She jerked her thumb at a drawing on the wall behind the cash register.
Were owned, was. Past tense. I widened my smile to encourage her. “Why did everyone call her Shadow Woman?”
The clerk gnawed on a hangnail for a moment. “I guess ’cause she was weird, ya know, like she lived in the shadows. Creepy. Always showed up here at the store at dusk or when it was dark. Sam said she could sneak right up next to you in the shadows and you’d never see her. And her face was weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Like, really weird.”
“Ah, that clarifies it. Where did she come from?”
“Sam said she ran away from a group home near Smelterville.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“Right, you know? No one wanted her. Anyway, she owned Holly—that’s the Lab mix—and Maverick, the Anna-toolian sheepdog.”
“Anatolian? From Anatolia in Asia Minor?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“Of course. I thought the big dog was half Great Dane, half mastiff.”
“Nope. Sam looked it up. Anna-whatevers are super-expensive livestock guard dogs from Turkey or France, I forget which.”
“They are such similar countries,” I murmured.
“Right. So anyway, Sam was surprised that Shadow Woman had one.”
Sam looked it up. Looking for value? Surprised that Shadow Woman had one. Not just a hermit but poor? Broke? “I see.” I leaned slightly against the shelving unit. “You mentioned Shadow . . .”
“Right. Um . . . so Shadow Woman came to town like once a month with her mule, like I said, always after sunset, and bought stuff, like Spam. She’d usually pay her bill about every other month. The dogs always came with her. Six months ago, you know, she stopped coming.”
“Let me guess. She owed Sam a lot of money.”
“Right. Boy-howdy was he steamed about it. Then he, you know, got a check and note from the old woman to pay her bill, but the check bounced higher than a buckin’ bronco.”
“Did anyone follow up, call the police?”
“Not right away ’cause the dogs moved in, first Holly, then Maverick. So, you know, Sam started to feed them. And . . . I think someone changed his mind on what to do with the dogs.”
Cluster of you knows. Sensitive topic. I kept my gaze on her and nodded again.
She glanced down and plucked a piece of lint from her sleeve. “Sam always said he’d get his pound of flesh from her, whatever that means.”
“I’m sure it originated in Turkey or France.”
“Right. Foreign-like. Um . . . Sam finally got close enough to Maverick to see he’d been spayed.”
“Neutered?”
“What?”
“Never mind.” A neutered dog was of zero value, and Sam stopped feeding them. I made an effort to unclench my hands. “How have the dogs survived?”
“You know, folks around town feel sorry for them . . .”
The cowbell jangled.
The clerk straightened and glanced in that direction. Her cheeks flamed and her tongue flickered out to moisten her lips.
I turned.
A sheriff’s deputy charged to the bathroom, disappeared for a few moments, then reappeared and sauntered toward us, replacing fallen items on the shelves. His ordinary brown hair was the only average thing about him. He was otherwise a walking modern-day Adonis, his face chiseled by a master carver. He finally looked up and smiled at the clerk, exposing more teeth than the Osmond family, and seemed to enjoy her reaction to his arrival.
My hand automatically reached to fluff my hair. I stopped and squared my oversized glasses instead.
He looked at me, his eyes widening. “Hello there. I’m Bram White.”
“I’m—”
“Leaving,” the clerk said. “Goin’ to Mule Shoe. She’s a guest.”
“Darby Graham.” I glanced at his holstered pistol, then out the window at the two dogs lying under a tree. Check bounced. Sam’s been feeding ’em, but that’s gonna stop. Pound of flesh.
Deputy Bram glanced at his watch.
My neck was crawling with reasons to scratch it.
“Can I get you a Coke or somethin’?” she asked me. “It shouldn’t be long.” The clerk moved toward an ancient cooler. “I’d bet the wagon got slowed down by the earthquake.”
The two dogs began barking.
“See? I told ya. Betcha that’s the wagon now.” The clerk moved toward the front of the store, brushing past Bram. “Excuse me,” she said. At the window, she glanced out, then looked at the officer. “Yep. The wagon’s here.” Without taking her eyes from Bram, she said to me, “You can go now.”
Sam stuck his head in the door. “Miss Graham? Time to leave.” He spotted Bram and gave the man a quick nod.
I gave in and scratched my neck. This was none of my business. No need to get involved. No reason to draw attention to myself. Low profile. Right. I straightened. “I think I’ll wait here. Catch the next wagon.” The words came out without my thinking, but they seemed right.
Sam moved into the store. “I’m sorry, Miss Graham, there won’t be a next wagon. It’s quite a distance to the ranch and it’s getting late. You’ll need to leave now.” He wiped his hands on his slacks, glanced at the clerk, then at the deputy.
The itch was now a full-scale conviction. “Your clerk here—”
“Julia?” Sam glared at the clerk.
“Was telling me about Shadow Woman. And her dogs.”
Bram folded his arms.
Sam opened the door behind him and waved for me to exit. “Miss Graham, I really see that as none of your business.”
Go now.Run. You have nothing to offer. Well . . . almost nothing. I slowly walked over to the counter. “I know Shadow Woman’s check bounced. How much money did she owe you? And how much to cover all the dog food?” I opened my purse.
“How many times have I warned you to keep your piehole shut!” Sam said to Julia.
“I didn’t say nothin’!” Julia crossed her arms. “She figured it out on her own.”
Sam closed the door and approached me, both hands held out as if to show goodwill. “I don’t know what it is that you figured out, Miss Graham, but—”
“Please don’t try lying to me, Sam.” I pulled out my checkbook. “You figured the Anatolian dog would pay Shadow Woman’s bill, but when you saw he was neutered, he had no more value to you. The minute I leave, you’re going to have Deputy White here shoot both dogs. Your pound of flesh.” I stared into his eyes. “I intend to stop you.”
***
Author Bio
Carrie Stuart Parks is a Christy, multiple Carol, and Inspy Award–winning author. She was a 2019 finalist in the Daphne du Maurier Award for excellence in mainstream mystery/suspense and has won numerous awards for her fine art as well. An internationally known forensic artist, she travels with her husband, Rick, across the US and Canada teaching courses in forensic art to law-enforcement professionals. The author/illustrator of numerous books on drawing and painting, Carrie continues to create dramatic watercolors from her studio in the mountains of Idaho.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for THE QUESTION IS MURDER by Mark Willen.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
Washington D.C. newspaper columnist Sam Turner, known to his readers as Mr. Ethics, faces his toughest moral dilemma yet: Can murder ever be justified?
That’s the question posed to him by a mysterious young woman who says she is being stalked and harassed by an ex-lover too powerful to be stopped any other way. Sam knows that journalists should never get personally involved in a story, but he finds he is being drawn deeper and deeper into this one whether he wants it or not.
So when Senator Wade Morgan turns up murdered, Sam fears the worst. Worried about his own involvement, the man who normally has all the answers is now the one making questionable decisions.
As his investigation into the Senator’s death begins to spin out of control, Sam finds he can’t let go—even as the case grows more complicated and the threats against his life become more immediate. With the fate of a young woman at stake and his own life in jeopardy, Sam can’t back down until the killer—whoever that may be—is brought to justice.
But this is D.C., and justice can be in short supply.
Genre: Mystery, Suspense, Amateur Sleuth, Psychological Thriller Published by: Pen-L Publishing Publication Date: May 14th 2021 Number of Pages: 304 ISBN: 1683132246 (ISBN-13: 978-1683132240) Series:The Question Is Murder is not included in a series.
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
THE QUESTION IS MURDER by Mark Willen is an amateur sleuth mystery/suspense set in Washington DC with a mature newspaper columnist/college lecturer who is known to his readers as Mr. Ethics. This mystery is not only told in the amateur sleuth’s point of view, but through the three main suspects’ points of view in alternating chapters, also.
Sam Turner known as Mr. Ethics receives an email to his column asking if murder can ever be justified?
The unknown young woman who asks the question says she is being stalked and threatened by her ex-lover who is too powerful to be stopped in any other way. Sam knows journalists should never get personally involved, but he is drawn to this woman and her dilemma.
A Senator turns up dead in his car. At first it looks like suicide, but quickly is determined to be murder. Sam fears he has become involved and is starting to question his own decisions. He is drawn deeper into the complicated investigation. Sam cannot back down, even when his own life is threatened, until the killer is brought to justice.
I enjoyed this mystery and the ethical questions that appear and are discussed throughout. It was interesting to see the slippery slope caused by Sam’s decisions and his rationalizations for those decisions. I also enjoyed the unique points of view telling their own stories right along with our amateur sleuth as the mystery unravels. This is a character driven investigation as much as a criminal or journalistic investigation. The author deftly handles all points of view, reliable or unreliable without giving away who is guilty. The resolution to the mystery is satisfactory, but quick. I do like the fact that this is a standalone mystery because I am not always craving a series mystery.
I can recommend this well written, paced and plotted amateur sleuth mystery.
***
Excerpt
Dear Mr. Ethics
Sam reads the email a second time, then a third, not sure whether to dismiss it as a prank or call the police. He prints it out and then reads it again, looking for some clue to the sender’s frame of mind.
It’s probably a stunt. Sam gets more than his share of cranks and weirdos. There’s something about writing a newspaper column and calling yourself “Mr. Ethics” that attracts them. Some people just take offense at the notion of a guy sitting behind a computer trying to tell them there’s a right way to behave.
He takes a deep breath and reads the email again, a blue felt-tipped pen in his hand. He studies the words, the grammar, even the sentence structure, looking for oddities or inconsistencies. Nothing jumps out.
He doesn’t need this. Not now.
But then maybe he does. Maybe it’s just what he needs. Something to take his mind off of Lisa, not unlike the migraine that makes you forget the sprained ankle, at least for a while.
He looks up from the sheet of paper in his hand and glances at the poster that hangs in front of him. It’s filled with quotations on writing, and although it’s the kind of thing a college kid would hang in a dorm room, he’s always liked having it near. And he didn’t have much else to stick on the wall two years ago when he was awarded his own office, a privilege he didn’t especially want and still hasn’t adjusted to. He loves the column, both for its intellectual challenge and for the feeling that he may be helping people, albeit in small ways, to make the world a better place.
He turns back to the email. He needs another opinion and knows it should come from his boss, but he doesn’t want to lose control. Brenda would be cautious and call in the executive editor or a lawyer, maybe both, and that would mean days of delay. He’s not going to use the email in his column, so whatever he does shouldn’t come back to hurt the newspaper. He wants to help if he can, and he doesn’t want anyone to get in his way. He’s too old for bureaucratic games.
But he does want another opinion.
He gets up, grabs the printout, and walks down the hall to the newsroom. It’s eerily quiet, nothing like the newsrooms he grew up in. Gone is the chaos of constant motion and loud conversations carried on from opposite ends of the room. Gone too are the ugly metal desks shoved together so close you can smell the whisky on your neighbor’s breath, hear him belch or argue with an official or a source on the phone. Some had hated it, but Sam thrived on the synergy it produced, the bonds it created, the shared excitement of doing something he believed—still believes—is important.
Now, in its place he sees what the younger reporters view as high-tech paradise, with desks crowded with laptops and other electronic devices. The reporters and editors are stuck in a maze of mini-cubicles with three-foot high, sound-absorbing barriers to create a sense of privacy. They need to stand up to see another person.
He’s acutely aware of how much journalism has changed in the thirty years he’s been practicing it. Not that it was ever pure and not that all its practitioners had less than selfish motives. But many did. Now it’s nothing more than a business, a fight for internet clicks or a spot appearance on TV, just when facts and truth matter the most because they’re in such short supply. It’s one of the reasons he was ready to give up reporting and editing to take on the ethics column, but that’s not to say he doesn’t miss the thrill of unraveling an important story.
He walks the maze, heading to Molly’s corner. “Hey,” he says as he comes up behind her.
Her right hand rises in a silencing gesture, and he realizes she’s on the phone. One of those ear things hidden by her hair. How was he supposed to know?
While he waits, he glances up at the silent TV monitors on the wall and tries to guess why the weatherman is moving his arms around in a circle. After a minute or so, Molly ends the call and turns to him.
“What?” she asks, not unfriendly but not friendly either. Busy is the vibe he gets.
Sam was once Molly’s editor and mentor as she learned her way around Congress, which was Sam’s beat for twelve years. She still comes to him for advice, though not often, and he will seek her out when his ethics column needs the perspective of someone younger, or a woman.
He hands her the printout without speaking and watches her read it, biting down on her lower lip, a habit he’s grown used to. He averts his eyes when she looks up and catches him staring at her. He glances around her cubicle while she finishes, then turns back to her, focusing now on her hands, which grip the printout on either side, as if she’s worried he’ll have second thoughts and try to take it back. He’s never noticed how graceful her hands look, with long supple fingers, as though she was born to play the piano. Or type. The thought makes him smile.
Molly hands back the email and frowns. “So what’s the question?” she asks.
“Do you think it’s for real?”
She purses her lips and turns her head slightly. Her blue eyes, accented with eye shadow she doesn’t need, seem to settle on a photograph of her and Kyle, her fiancé. They are wearing hiking gear and standing atop a boulder, Molly’s bleached-blond hair blowing lightly in the wind. Their wedding is set for Memorial Day weekend, less than three months away.
“Look, Sam,” she says finally, picking up her water bottle and taking a swallow, making him wait for what’s coming. “Every woman has some rat-bastard in her past she’d love to blow to kingdom come, but they never actually do it.”
“Some do.”
“Not many. And probably only on the spur of the moment. More passion than planning, and never with advance notice.”
“This is different. He didn’t dump her. He’s stalking her and she’s scared. She doesn’t see any other way out.”
Molly tilts her head slightly and he’s not sure what that means. She reaches for the moisturizer she keeps on her desk. He watches her squirt some in her palm and then rub it carefully on the backs of her hands. He feels himself getting annoyed. Since Lisa asked him to move out, he has less patience for everything and everyone. He reminds himself of that and takes a deep breath.
“I can’t ignore it,” he says.
“But what can you do? It’s vague and anonymous. You can’t use it in the column. Are you thinking of turning it over to the police?”
“No. I have to answer her. Reach out in some way.”
“Tell me why. You always told me not to get involved in the stories I cover.”
“I can’t just let it go.”
“What if you find out she’s serious? Or suicidal?” she asks. “Then you’ll have no choice but to go to the authorities.”
The question annoys him. “Of course. But I don’t have enough to work with now.”
“I don’t disagree, and if it’s not a hoax, I feel sorry for her. But all you can do is tell her to go to the police.”
“She says she can’t,” he says. “I want to find out why. This is a cry for help.”
Molly shrugs, making it clear she doesn’t agree. “If I came to you with this, you’d say reporters shouldn’t get involved. I’d get your lecture on how our job is to shine a light on problems while staying above the fray, not try to make everything okay.”
He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t argue with the journalistic principle she’s quoting, but it doesn’t apply here because he’s not a reporter planning to write a story about the email. “I have to follow it up,” he tells her. “I just do.”
“Why’d you ask my advice if you already had your mind made up?”
He walks away without answering. On the one hand, he sees her point, but he’s disappointed she isn’t more concerned, more helpful. It surprises him that Molly isn’t able to put herself in other people’s shoes more often. Seeing the other side of an issue—any issue—is an important skill for a reporter. Call it empathy.
But maybe he’s just annoyed because she doesn’t agree with him.
Back in his office, he forwards the email to the IT department. He deletes the content, but they can analyze the IP address or whatever they look at to try to determine where it came from. He doesn’t have much hope, but it’s worth a try. Then he turns back to the email and rereads it.
Dear Mr. Ethics:
Is murder ever ethical? I hope so because I don’t have a choice. An ex-lover is destroying me. I broke up with him and now he’s ruining my life. He got into my laptop, stole all my data and used it to stalk, embarrass, and almost bankrupt me. Now he’s moved on to even worse stuff. He’s killing my hope for any kind of normal life, so killing him is a form of self-defense. Justifiable homicide, right?
I can’t go to the police for reasons I can’t explain here. And I can’t give you any more details because I can’t risk you figuring out my name.
So can I murder him? And no, I’m not kidding.
Sincerely,
Truly Desperate
Sam jots down several notes. The tone strikes him as strangely calm and rational. She’s making a logical argument, not what you’d expect from someone stressed and frantic. Or crazy. Is it a hoax? Maybe a college kid bored with her ethics class and looking for term paper ideas. Or an author concocting a crazy plot for a thriller. Or maybe someone pissed off at Mr. Ethics and hoping to draw him into a discussion that will embarrass him if made public.
But maybe not.
It doesn’t matter. He has to answer her. Keep her talking, try to get more clues so he can stop her on the off chance she really is planning a murder.
He turns to his keyboard and after several false starts comes up with his reply.
Dear Truly Desperate,
I’m going to assume this is a not a prank because I have no way of knowing, and I want to give you the benefit of the doubt.
From the little you’ve told me, I can assure you that what you propose is not ethical. Justifiable homicide applies only when your life is in imminent danger, and you haven’t convinced me that this is the case. I don’t think you’ve convinced yourself or you wouldn’t be asking me.
You need to go to the police. If you can’t do it yourself, is there someone who can do it for you? If necessary, I might be willing to do that, depending on the details. And with the newspaper behind me, the police will feel obliged to take it seriously.
If you don’t want my help, I suggest you talk to a mental health professional or a social worker or someone experienced in cases involving domestic partner abuse (which this obviously is).
If you’d like to talk about this more (and I will treat any conversations we have confidentially), you may call me at any time (cellphone number below).
Above all, don’t do anything rash.
Regards,
Sam Turner (a.k.a. Mr. Ethics)
He sits back and reads the note again. He considers his offer to go to the police on her behalf, mindful of Molly’s warning not to get involved. He wants to help her, but that’s going too far. He eliminates that sentence.
He also cuts the promise of confidentiality. If she asks for it, he’ll agree, but there’s no need to offer it upfront. And it might tie his hands unnecessarily.
He reads his response one last time and hits the send button.
* * *
Author Bio
Mark Willen was born, raised, and educated in New England, where he developed a special appreciation for the values, humor, and strength of its people, as well as the sense of community that characterizes so many of its small towns. After college, he moved to the Washington, DC area, where he quickly learned how the other half lives.
As a journalist, he has been a reporter, columnist, blogger, producer, and editor at The Voice of America, National Public Radio, Congressional Quarterly, Bloomberg News, and Kiplinger. Though based primarily in Washington, he has reported from datelines as varied as New York, Moscow, Cairo, Beijing, Buenos Aires, and Johannesburg. Having retired from journalism in 2010, Mark now divides his time between writing fiction and volunteer work. As a former graduate-level teacher of journalism ethics, he also tries to help people figure out the right thing to do in difficult situations through his blog, TalkingEthics.com Mark has a Masters of Arts in writing from Johns Hopkins University (2010) and a Bachelor of Arts in government from Dartmouth College.
The Question Is Murder is Mark’s debut mystery, but there is always an element of suspense in his novels. His earlier Jonas Hawke series, three books set in a small but troublesome town in Vermont, were also published by Pen-L. His short stories have appeared in The Rusty Nail, Corner Club Press, and The Boiler Review.
Mark lives in Silver Spring, Maryland, with his wife, Janet.
