THE WOMAN WHO SMASHED CODES: A True Story of Love, Spies, and the Unlikely Heroine Who Outwitted America’s Enemies by Jason Fagone is a historical fiction novel which brings to light the major contributions of the amazing female half of a married couple who both invented many aspects of the modern science of cryptology.
Elizebeth Smith wanted a job in literature. She is hired by an eccentric millionaire who brings the best minds of 1916 together on a large farm outside of Chicago and tells them to be the best they can be. Elizebeth becomes disillusioned with the project she was hired to work on, but she is intrigued with the young man, William Freidman she meets who is helping with the project.
The two get married and begin working together on breaking coded messages that are brought to them from various government and law enforcement agencies. They soon build a reputation and are instrumental in building the strategic texts for codebreaking that they and others use throughout WWI, Prohibition and WWII while William is in the Army and Elizebeth works for the Coast Guard.
While history hails William’s accomplishments of being a groundbreaker and innovator in cryptology and at breaking the Japanese version of Enigma, there is little praise given to Elizebeth’s own contributions from breaking Prohibition gangsters’ codes to breaking the Enigma code German spies were using all over South America.
This book brings Elizebeth’s accomplishments and contributions to light. Mr. Fagone brings Elizebeth to life from her professional publications and personal writings. I was truly amazed by how her and her husband’s brains worked to decode so many secret code systems without using mathematics or having the use of the just being invented computer. The only problem I had with the book was the inclusion of some codes that were used and/or broken by the duo because while I know some would work to solve the puzzles, it just interrupted the flow of the story for me. Otherwise, Elizebeth’s personality comes alive in this story and her story just leads you to wonder how many other brilliant women have been overlooked by history.
I recommend this historical fiction of a brilliant mind and woman!
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Author Bio
I’ve written about science, sports, and culture for Wired, GQ, Men’s Journal, Esquire, NewYorker.com, The New York Times Magazine, The Atlantic, Slate, Philadelphia, and the 2011 edition of The Best American Sports Writing. A few years ago, I wrote a book called “Horsemen of the Esophagus,” about competitive eating and the American dream. For the last three years, I’ve been working on my next book, “Ingenious,” which will be published this November. It’s about inventors and cars. I live outside of Philadelphia with my wife and daughter.
Today is my last blog post on the Harlequin Trade Publishing Summer 2021 Beach Reads Blog Tour. I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for LADY SUNSHINE by Amy Mason Doan.
Below you will find an about the book section, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!
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About the Book
ONE ICONIC FAMILY. ONE SUMMER OF SECRETS. THE DAZZLING SPIRIT OF 1970S CALIFORNIA.
For Jackie Pierce, everything changed the summer of 1979, when she spent three months of infinite freedom at her bohemian uncle’s sprawling estate on the California coast. As musicians, artists, and free spirits gathered at The Sandcastle for the season in pursuit of inspiration and communal living, Jackie and her cousin Willa fell into a fast friendship, testing their limits along the rocky beach and in the wild woods… until the summer abruptly ended in tragedy, and Willa silently slipped away into the night.
Twenty years later, Jackie unexpectedly inherits The Sandcastle and returns to the iconic estate for a short visit to ready it for sale. But she reluctantly extends her stay when she learns that, before her death, her estranged aunt had promised an up-and-coming producer he could record a tribute album to her late uncle at the property’s studio. As her musical guests bring the place to life again with their sun-drenched beach days and late-night bonfires, Jackie begins to notice startling parallels to that summer long ago. And when a piece of the past resurfaces and sparks new questions about Willa’s disappearance, Jackie must discover if the dark secret she’s kept ever since is even the truth at all.
LADY SUNSHINE by Amy Mason Doan is a new women’s fiction story that has two intertwining timelines, the first is of an idyllic summer in 1979 when two young cousins come together and the second is 1999, as one cousin faces truths and discovers secrets from that free-spirited summer.
This new-to-me author hooked me immediately with vivid characters and nostalgia that takes a very unexpected turn not once, but twice during this captivating story. The Sandcastle is the setting for both timelines on the California coast and is the compound of Jackie Pierce’s uncle. The 1979 timeline brings back memories from that time period and compares the two cousins very different lives which at first are pure and simple, but they have underlying secrets that tear them apart. The 1999 timeline brings Jackie back to the compound that she has inherited and she now has to face truths from the past that she has been hiding away from in her small life in Boston.
This book has so many different layered facets that come together into a compelling story that has friendship, family, secrets, and forgiveness. This new-to-me author had me completely wrapped up in both timelines with surprising plotlines and realistic characters.
I highly recommend this hard to categorize, yet beautifully written story.
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Excerpt
1
A Girl, Her Cousin, and a Waterfall
1999
I rattle the padlock on the gate, strum my fingers along the cold chain-link fence.
I own this place.
Maybe if I repeat it often enough I’ll believe it.
All along the base of the fence are tributes: shells, notes, sketches, bunches of flowers. Some still fresh, some so old the petals are crisp as parchment. I follow the fence uphill, along the coast side, and stop at a wooden, waist-high sign marking the path up to the waterfall. It wasn’t here the summer I visited.
The sign is covered in words and drawings, so tattooed-over by fan messages that you can barely read the official one. I run my fingertips over the engravings: initials, peace symbols, Thank you’s, I Love You’s. Fragments of favorite lyrics. After coming so far to visit the legendary estate, people need to do something, leave their mark, if only with a rock on fog-softened wood.
Song titles from my uncle’s final album, Three, are carved everywhere. “Heart, Home, Hope.”
“Leaf, Shell, Raindrop.”
“Angel, Lion, Willow.” Someone has etched that last one in symbols instead of words. The angel refers to Angela, my aunt. The lion is my uncle Graham.
And the willow tree. Willa, my cousin.
I have a pointy metal travel nail file in my suitcase; I could add my message to the rest, my own tribute to this place, to the Kingstons. To try to explain what happened the summer I spent here. I could tell it like one of the campfire tales I used to spin for Willa.
This is the story of a girl, her cousin, and a waterfall…
But there’s no time for that, not with only seven days to clear the house for sale. Back at the gate, where Toby’s asleep in his cat carrier in the shade, I dig in my overnight bag for the keys. They came in a FedEx with a fat stack of documents I must’ve read on the plane from Boston a dozen times—thousands of words, all dressed up in legal jargon. When it’s so simple, really. Everything inside that fence is mine now, whether I want it or not.
I unlock the gate, lift the metal shackle, and walk uphill to the highest point, where the gravel widens into a parking lot, then fades away into grass. The field opens out below me just like I remember. We called it “the bowl,” because of the way the edges curve up all around it. A golden bowl scooped into the hills, rimmed on three sides by dark green woods. The house, a quarter mile ahead of me at the top of the far slope, is a pale smudge in the fir trees.
I stop to take it in, this piece of land I now own. The Sandcastle, everyone called it.
Without the neighbors’ goats and Graham’s guests to keep the grass down, the field has grown wild, many of the yellow weeds high as my belly button.
Willa stood here with me once and showed me how from this angle the estate resembled a sun. The kind a child would draw, with a happy face inside. Once I saw it, it was impossible to un-see:
The round, straw-colored field, trails squiggling off to the woods in every direction, like rays. The left eye—the campfire circle. The right eye—the blue aboveground pool. The nose was the vertical line of picnic benches in the middle of the circle that served as our communal outdoor dining table. The smile was the curving line of parked cars and motorcycles and campers.
All that’s gone now, save for the pool, which is squinting, collapsed, moldy green instead of its old bright blue.
I should go back for my bag and Toby but I can’t resist—I move on, down to the center of the field. Far to my right in the woods, the brown roofline of the biggest A-frame cabin, Kingfisher, pokes through the firs. But no other cabins are visible, the foliage is so thick now. Good. Each alteration from the place of my memories gives me confidence. I can handle this for a week. One peaceful, private week to box things up and send them away.
“Sure you don’t want me to come help?” Paul had asked when he dropped me at the airport this morning. “We could squeeze in a romantic weekend somewhere. I’ve always wanted to go to San Francisco.”
“You have summer school classes, remember? Anyway, it’ll be totally boring, believe me.”
I’d told him—earnest, sweet Paul, who all the sixth-graders at the elementary school where we work hope they get as their teacher and who wants to marry me—that the trip was no big deal. That I’d be away for a week because my aunt in California passed away. That I barely knew her and just had to help pack up her old place to get it ready for sale.
He believed me.
I didn’t tell him that the “old place” is a stunning, sprawling property perched over the Pacific, studded with cabins and outbuildings and a legendary basement recording studio. That the land bubbles with natural hot springs and creeks and waterfalls.
Or that I’ve inherited it. All of it. The fields, the woods, the house, the studio. And my uncle’s music catalog.
I didn’t tell him that I visited here once as a teenager, or that for a little while, a long time ago, I was sure I’d stay forever.
Excerpted from Lady Sunshine @ 2021 by Amy Mason Doan, used with permission by Graydon House.
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About the Author
AMY MASON DOAN is the author of The Summer List and Summer Hours. She earned a BA in English from UC Berkeley and an MA in journalism from Stanford University, and has written for The Oregonian, San Francisco Chronicle, and Forbes, among other publications. She grew up in Danville, California, and now lives in Portland, Oregon, with her husband and daughter.
Today I am posting on the Harlequin Trade Publishing Women’s Fiction Summer 2021 Blog Tour. I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE SUMMER OF NO ATTACHMENTS by Lori Foster.
Below you will find an about the book section, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!
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About the Book
From New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Lori Foster comes the heartwarming story of two best friends who cross paths with a pair of new-in-town brothers with one angry little boy in tow. A standalone story of second chances at life and love, with found family and rescued animals, perfect for fans of Jill Shalvis, Sarah Morgan, and Lori Wilde.
Summer flings with no strings mean nobody gets hurt.
At least, that was the plan…
After putting the brakes on her dead-end relationship, local veterinarian Ivey Anders is ready to soak up this summer on her own terms. The way she sees it, no dating means no disappointment. Why complicate life with anything long-term? But when she meets Corbin Meyer—and his troubled young son, Justin—Ivey’s no-strings strategy threatens to unravel before she can put it into practice.
Trust doesn’t come easy for Ivey’s best friend, Hope Mage, a veterinary-clinic assistant who’s affected by an incident that’s colored every relationship she’s had. Though Hope’s happy for Ivey, she can’t quite open her own heart to the possibility of love. Not just yet… Maybe not ever. Soon, however, she’s faced with a dilemma—Corbin’s older brother, Lang. He’s charming, he’s kind…and he may just be the reason Hope needs to finally tear down her walls.
And as the sweet summer months unspool, the two friends discover love won’t give up on them so easily.
THE SUMMER OF NO ATTACHMENTS (The Summer Friends Book #2) by Lori Foster is a heartwarming and heart-wrenching women’s fiction story of friendship with two contemporary romance plots intertwined throughout. These characters pulled me in from page one and I could not put it down. While this is the second book in the series, it is easily read as a standalone.
Ivey Anders is the local veterinarian. She has unruly curly hair, a mouth with no filter and a huge heart filled with love. Ivey has decided to end her two-year-old dead-end relationship and enjoy a summer of no attachments. When she goes with her veterinarian assistant to check out a new rental, she meets the new man in town. Corbin Meyer is hot, sexy and a single dad who has just found out he has a son who is ten years old.
Hope Mage is Ivey’s best friend and her veterinarian assistant. Ivey has taken her under her wing since the incident that estranged her from her own family four years ago. Solitary and skittish around men and social situations, Hope is happy for her friend’s new relationship, but cannot see it happening in her own future until Corbin’s older brother, Lang comes for a visit. He is funny, sexy and kind and Hope realizes that she is attracted to a man for the first time in several years.
This is a perfect summer read! I love all the characters in this story, but especially Ivey. She made me laugh and cry with her big heart. Ivey and Hope’s friendship is the backbone of the story and then they each find what they need in the Meyer brothers. Corbin’s son, Justin broke my heart and yet also made me laugh. I loved his ability to love even with all the trauma in his young life before he was delivered to Corbin. The book has plenty of animals to fall in love with as well. This story had the perfect balance of love, friendship, family and emotional up and downs.
I highly recommend this wonderful women’s fiction/contemporary romance!
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Excerpt
Chapter One
Ivey Anders shoved back a wayward curl and gently secured the dog against her body so it couldn’t move while her tech, Hope Mage, carefully clipped away the twisted wire. The poor thing, a stray by the looks of it, had gotten itself tangled pretty tightly and one hind leg was in bad shape. Ivey wanted to get it to the clinic where she could properly assess the damage.
Mud caked the fur, making it difficult to find any other injuries just yet, but there was one astounding fact Ivey couldn’t ignore.
Behind her, the homeowner groused that the dog had likely been stealing eggs from his chicken coop.
Voice calm, temper mostly in check, Ivey said, “You didn’t hesitate to call me, did you, Marty?” It was well-known that Marty was not a fan of dogs, or cats for that matter, and mostly considered them a nuisance. However, they’d come to an agreement some time ago. Marty, who owned a fair amount of wooded acreage, was supposed to call her if a stray showed up, and she, as the local vet, would take care of the “problem” for him.
Laura, his wife, was quick to say, “I called.” Defiant to Marty, she added, “Soon as I heard the poor thing, in fact.”
Which didn’t mean much. The animal might have been there for hours. Possibly more than a day, though Ivey couldn’t bear the thought of that.
“She’s pregnant, you know.” Refusing to take her eyes off the dog and unwilling to raise her voice since it might frighten the animal more, Ivey said, “If she took an egg, it would have been from starvation—and you already know I would have compensated you for it.”
Affronted, Marty grumbled, “I wasn’t worried about one egg, just don’t want to lose my chickens.” He cleared his throat. “If it helps any, I was out here this morning and she wasn’t caught then. Afternoon I watered my garden, and that’s why there’s so much mud. So I doubt she was hung up there more than a few hours.”
The fist around Ivey’s heart loosened just a little. “That helps tremendously, Marty. Thank you.”
More times than she could count, Ivey had taken on problems with stray animals who needed special love and care. It didn’t matter that she’d been working as a veterinarian for years now, seeing all manner of hurt, neglected or just plain ill animals. She still loved them all, and when one hurt, she hurt with it.
“No thanks necessary,” Marty complained, his tone gruff with insult. “Not like I’d let an animal suffer.”
Ivey had a feeling their definitions of suffer varied a bit, but she realized this mattered to him, and she was too grateful to quibble so she just nodded.
Almost got it,” Hope murmured, and with one last clip, the wire loosened. “There.” Fingers gentle, she disentangled the dog’s leg, exposing a painful wound.
Ivey murmured to the small animal all the while, cooing softly, petting and holding her secure. The second she was able to sit back on the muddy ground, she pulled the dog into her lap. With her face close to the top of the dog’s head, she whispered, “There now, that’s better, isn’t it? We’ll get you all fixed up, I promise.”
“Here.” Slipping off her zip-up hoodie, Hope offered it to Ivey to wrap around the dog. “Do you want me to get the carrier?”
Busy swaddling the dog, careful not to jar her, Ivey shook her head. “She doesn’t weigh more than ten or eleven pounds. I’ll carry her to the truck and we’ll see how it goes.” Feeling mud seep into the seat of her pants, she realized she couldn’t get up without letting go of the dog. Lifting a brow at Hope, she said, “A little help?”
“Oh sure.” Hope caught her under one elbow, and Laura hurried forward to take the other, giving her the leverage she needed.
Marty stepped back to avoid getting muddy.
Carefully, the two women got Ivey on her feet. The thick mud was heavy on the seat of her pants, dragging on her stretch jeans that had loosened throughout the day. At least her rubber boots wouldn’t be ruined. Since they treated all sorts of animals, including those on farms, she and Hope each kept a pair at the clinic.
“Let’s go.” Plodding forward, Ivey led the way to the truck. Halfway there, the dog started panting. Concerned, she hastened her step, not at all worried about getting mud on the truck seats. “No need for the crate. Just get us back to the clinic.”
Picking up on her angst, Hope ran around to the driver’s side and got the truck on the road in record time. “Everything okay?”
“Not really, no. Something’s wrong.”
“What should I do?”
Poor Hope. A sick cat had kept them an hour past closing, and then Marty had called… “I’m sorry.” Ivey barely took her gaze off the stressed dog. “Do you think you could assist me at the clinic?”
“Of course I will! You don’t even have to ask.” Frowning, Hope muttered, “Did you think I’d drop you off with a dog in distress? Tell you good luck?” She snorted. “Have I ever done that?”
She and Hope were close enough that Ivey knew she’d inadvertently insulted her. “No, you haven’t. But it’s Friday night after a very long day.”
“It’s Friday night for you, too, you know.”
“What a sad situation for us both.” Despite her worries, Ivey chuckled. “Most women would have plans, and yet we never do.”
“You have Geoff.”
Ivey made a face. “Lot of good that does me.” Likely Geoff was settled on the couch already, watching sports or playing a video game. The excitement had left their relationship a long time ago, so she doubted he’d even notice her absence.
For her part, Hope never dated. That bothered Ivey a lot, but she loved Hope enough that she would never pry.
Smiling at her friend, Ivey said, “I’m glad I won’t have to do this alone.”
“Not ever,” Hope vowed. “Even if by some miracle I ever do have something worthwhile lined up for the weekend, I’d still be here for you, okay?”
Her friendship with Hope meant so much more than any other relationship Ivey had, including her lackluster romance with Geoff. “Smartest thing I ever did was hire you.”
“I’m so glad you did,” Hope whispered. “Otherwise we might not have become friends, then where would I be?”
“Let’s just agree that we’re better off together.” Though Ivey was ten years older than Hope, they’d still hit it off from the start, meshing together as if they’d been lifelong friends. Where Ivey was take-charge and sometimes a little too outspoken, Hope was an intent listener with an enormous heart.
Ivey often wanted to challenge the world, and Hope, sadly, wanted to hide from it.
Or more accurate, she wanted to hide from any interested men.
Hope had an affinity with animals, plus a gentle but sure touch. She was never squeamish, but she exuded sympathy. Ivey valued her. The clients loved her. And the animals trusted her.
Unfortunately, they were still five minutes away from the clinic when the dog went into labor. “This is definitely happening,” Ivey said, doing what she could to make the animal comfortable.
Leaning closer to the steering wheel, Hope drove a little faster. “Be there soon.”
They’d barely gotten in the door when her water broke. Hope ran ahead to prepare an area, moving with practiced ease as she opened an already cleaned kennel and set up a whelping box, then filled it with bedding material. The box had three tall sides to contain the coming puppies, and one low side for the mother to step out for food and water.
Knowing Hope had it in hand, Ivey began cleaning the dog as quickly and efficiently as possible. She managed a cursory job, removing the worst of the mud, when Hope rejoined her. “We’re all set.”
“With luck we’ll have enough time to clean and wrap her leg before she gives birth.” Usually that happened within two hours after the animal’s water breaking, so they didn’t have a minute to spare.
A day that had already been long just turned entirely endless.
Since first publishing in January 1996, Lori Foster has become a New York Times, USA Today, and Publisher’s Weekly bestselling author. She lives in Central Ohio where coffee helps her keep up with her cats and grandkids between writing books. For more about Lori, visit her website at www.lorifoster.com, like her on Facebook or find her on Twitter, @lorilfoster.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours for SOMETHING FISHY (A Kristy Farrell Mystery Book #2) by Lois Schmitt.
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
When attorney Samuel (Sam) Wong goes missing, wildlife magazine reporter Kristy Farrell thinks the disappearance may tie into her latest story concerning twenty acres of prime property that the local aquarium hopes to purchase. Sam works for multi-million dollar land developer Lucien Moray who wants to buy the property for an upscale condominium project. The waterfront community is divided on this issue like the Hatfields and McCoys with environmentalists siding with the aquarium and local business owners lining up behind Moray.
Soon a body is found in a nearby inlet, the aquarium is plagued with accidents, a second murder occurs, and Kristy has a near death encounter with a nine foot bull shark. Kristy investigates the aquarium murders and discovers weak alibis and strong motives.
But ferreting out the murderer isn’t Kristy’s only challenge. Her visiting widowed septuagenarian mother announces her engagement. Kristy suspects her mom’s soon to be husband is not all he appears to be. As Kristy tries find out the truth before her mother ties the knot, she also races the clock to find the aquarium killer before this killer strikes again.
Genre: Cozy Mystery Published by: Encircle Publications Publication Date: July 15th 2019 Number of Pages: 244 ISBN: 1948338793 (ISBN13: 9781948338790) Series: A Kristy Farrell Mystery #2 || Each is a Stand-Alone Novel
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
SOMETHING FISHY (A Kristy Farrell Mystery Book #2) by Lois Schmitt is an amateur sleuth cozy mystery featuring a female wildlife magazine feature writer who never stops asking questions. Even though this is the second book in this series, it is easily read as a standalone.
Kristy Farrell is on assignment working on two articles for the magazine, both centered around the Long Island Clam Cove Aquarium. The first article revolves around the local fight over the use of twenty acres of prime Long Island beach front and the second is a feature on deadly sea animals. Environmentalists want the land to enlarge the scope of the aquarium’s facilities and a rich land developer and local business owners want the land for upscale beachfront condos.
When a body is found floating in the local marina, Kristy and her veterinarian daughter, Abby work to discover the secrets of all the players involved in the race to raise the necessary money to buy the twenty acres. When a second murder occurs, Kristy needs to uncover the motive and killer before anyone else turns up dead and she needs to make her magazine’s deadline.
This is an enjoyable cozy read with entertaining characters, a plot full of red herrings and interesting marine life information interwoven throughout. Besides the primary mystery, you also have personal family intrigue occurring at the same time with Kristy’s mother. Ms. Schmitt was able to bring many story threads together in a satisfying conclusion that had me continually guessing.
I can recommend this amateur sleuth cozy mystery and I hope there are more to come.
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Excerpt
CHAPTERONE
“Something bad happened to Sam. I know it.”
Katie Chandler’s sea green eyes filled with tears. A sea lion trainer at the Clam Shell Cove Aquarium, Katie had been my daughter’s college roommate.
“Maybe Sam worked late and forgot to call,” I said.
Katie shook her head, her chestnut hair flying in the bay breeze. “No. He hasn’t answered my texts or phone calls. I stopped by his house twice too. No one’s home.”
Silence. I tried thinking of something helpful, or at least hopeful, to say.
“I called the police, Mrs. Farrell. The officer said being stood up for a dinner date isn’t enough for a missing persons case—that maybe it was Sam’s way of breaking up.”
I shifted my gaze to the whitecaps on the bay while Katie’s statement sank into my brain. Perhaps the officer was right. I knew from my daughter Abby that the relationship between Katie Chandler and Samuel Wong had hit a rough patch.
The conflict: Katie, who served as executor of her late grandmother’s charitable trust, was donating six million dollars of this money to the aquarium’s expansion project, which included the acquisition of twenty acres of adjacent land. Sam worked as executive assistant to multi-millionaire developer Lucien Moray who wanted to buy the bay front property for luxury condominiums. What started off as friendly bantering between Katie and Sam had escalated into explosive arguments that had become increasingly personal.
But Katie and Sam weren’t the only ones embroiled in this controversy. The community at large had become like the Hatfields and McCoys. Environmentalists wanted the property to go to the aquarium where it would be used for breeding grounds for endangered species, an aquatic animal rehabilitation center, and a research camp for marine scientists. Local business owners sided with Moray, hoping high end condo owners would bolster the area’s economy. I was writing an article on this for Animal Advocate Magazine. That’s why I was at the aquarium today.
Katie continued, “No matter what happened between us, Sam would never stand me up. He’s my fiancé not someone I picked up a few hours ago at a bar. Besides, Sam came around to my point of view. He had it with Lucien Moray. He hadn’t told anyone but me yet, but he was quitting his job at the end of the year.”
“I’ve an interview later this morning with Moray,” I said. “I’ll check around and see what I can find out. Someone in Moray’s office may know Sam’s whereabouts.”
“What if no one does?”
“Let’s take it one step at a time.” I glanced at my watch, then pushed myself off the rock where I’d been sitting, a task that would have been easier if I were ten years younger and twenty pounds lighter. “Speaking of interviews, my appointment with your aquarium director is in five minutes, so I better head inside. I’ll call you tonight.”
Katie sighed. “Thanks. I should get back to my sea lions too. We’ve a show at eleven.” She rose and stretched her small wiry body. “After the show, I’ll stop at Sam’s house again.”
Katie, shoulders slumped, wandered off in the direction of the outdoor sea lion amphitheater. I stood for a moment, inhaling the salt air while watching a seagull dive into the bay and zoom back to the sky with a fish in its mouth. As the autumn wind sent a sudden chill down my spine, I wrapped my arms around my body, thinking back to when Katie and my Abby attended college. Abby often acted impulsively, out of emotion, but Katie had always been levelheaded, never someone to jump to conclusions. What if Sam is really in trouble? The thought nagged at me as I trekked up the sandy beach and stepped into the building that housed the indoor exhibits.
I made my way down a long corridor, surrounded by floor to ceiling glass tanks housing ocean life from around the world. I paused at the shark tank and marveled at the grace and beauty of these fearsome predators gliding silently through the water, causing hardly a ripple. I would be back here soon. In addition to my article on the land expansion, I was writing a story on ocean predators.
I veered down the administration wing. When I came to a door marked DIRECTOR, I glanced again at my watch. Ten-thirty. Right on time. I knocked.
“Enter,” a booming voice responded. I pulled open the door and stepped inside.
Standing in front of me was a man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties. Noting his polished wingtips, sharply creased trousers, navy blazer, crisp white shirt, and perfectly knotted tie, I wished I’d dusted the sand off my shoes.
We stood face to face. Actually, it was more like face to chest. I was only five feet tall and this man towered over me by at least a foot and a half.
“Commander Conrad West,” he said, extending his arm. His handshake was firm and strong. “You must be Kristy Farrell, the reporter from Animal Advocate Magazine.”
Conrad West stood ramrod straight, probably a throw-back from his military training. A former naval commander—the youngest African American to be appointed a commander in the navy’s history—he had started his career as a medical corpsman. He had been director of the Clam Shell Cove Aquarium since his retirement from the navy last year.
He walked behind his desk and positioned himself in a large swivel chair.
“You may sit,” he said, pointing to a straight back chair facing him.
I slid into the chair, suppressing the urge to playfully salute.
He went straight to the point. “I understand you’re writing about the land acquisition. Have you seen our expansion plans?”
“Yes, and they are impressive. But how will the aquarium come up with the money to buy this land?” I asked, fumbling through my bag for my pad and pen. “You’re competing with the bottomless pockets of Lucien Moray.”
Commander West leaned forward, his hands clasped in front, as if praying that what he was about to say would come true. “The current property owner, Stuart Holland, is a business man who’s not about to forgo a profit. But he’s also an active conservationist and a lifelong resident of this area who would like to see the land used in an environmentally friendly manner. He’s kept it vacant until recent financial loses forced him to put it up for sale.”
The Commander leaned back. “There’ll be no bidding war. He set a price—ten million dollars. The land is worth more, but Stuart wants it to go to us, so he set a price he feels we can reach. If we can raise the money by next summer, the land is ours.”
“Ten million is a high goal.”
He nodded. “More than half of the funding will come from a trust set up by Alicia Wilcox Chandler. We also have one million in reserve that we accumulated during the past few years. Of course, we’re still three million short, but our new development officer is planning an aggressive fundraising campaign with—”
A loud knock on the door interrupted the conversation.
Commander West scowled. “Enter.”
A plump woman with a bad case of acne barged into the room. She wore jeans and a light blue shirt with an aquarium patch on the upper left pocket identifying her as Madge.
“Commander,” she said, slightly out of breath. “We have a problem. The sea lion show is in ten minutes, and Katie just ran out.”
“What do you mean she ran out?”
The woman shrugged. “She took a call on her cell phone, then flew out of the amphitheater.
“Didn’t she say anything?” The scowl hadn’t left his face.
The woman paused, furrowing her eyebrows as if deep in thought. “Oh, yeah. But I don’t know if it had to do with why she left.”
“What did she say?” He appeared to be talking through gritted teeth.
“She said two fishermen found a body floating in the inlet.”
***
Author Bio
A mystery fan since she read her first Nancy Drew, Lois Schmitt combined a love of mysteries with a love of animals in her series featuring wildlife reporter Kristy Farrell. She is a member of several wildlife and humane organizations as well as Mystery Writers of America. Lois worked for many years as a freelance writer and is the author of Smart Spending, a consumer education book for young people. She previously worked as media spokesperson for a local consumer affairs agency and currently teaches at Nassau Community College on Long Island. Lois lives in Massapequa with her family which includes a 120 pound Bernese Mountain Dog. This dog bears a striking resemblance to Archie, a dog of many breeds who looks like a small bear, featured in her Kristy Farrell Mystery Series. Lois was 2nd runner up for the Killer Nashville Claymore Award for Something Fishy.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours for DEAD TREE TALES by Rush Leaming.
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
Set in Charleston, SC, and the surrounding islands, police are called to investigate the poisoning of a much-loved 1000-year-old tree, only to find evidence of a more brutal crime. From there, the story explodes into a fast-paced, multi-character thriller unlike any you’ve ever read.
Not for the faint of heart…“Dead Tree Tales by Rush Leaming is about a lot more than a dead tree. It’s a mystery. It’s a crime story. It’s a thriller. It’s a powerful comment on today’s society and politics… fast-paced, full of action and intrigue… It’s a real page-turner and just a fantastic read.” – Lorraine Cobcroft, Reader’s Favorite
Genre: Crime Thriller Published by: Bridgewood Publication Date: June 8th 2021 Number of Pages: 488 ISBN: 0999745654 (ISBN13: 9780999745656)
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
DEAD TREE TALES by Rush Leaming is a fantastic new mystery/crime thriller that is impossible to put down. Mr. Leaming ties together several crimes which include the arboricide of a 1000-year-old legendary tree with the murder of an unknown young female all with acute observations of today’s political and societal unrest and corruption.
Detectives Charlie Harper and Elena Vasquez of the Charlestown PD are called out to Johns Island to investigate the poisoning of Addison’s Oak nicknamed “The Tree” which has survived for 1000 years. As they survey the area, they also notice blood on the grass and the severed tip of a finger.
As the investigation progresses, it becomes more complex, twisted and leads to a startling climax.
I cannot say enough about how much I enjoyed this book. The author’s observations through the eyes of his two main characters brings Charlestown and the coastal islands to life. Each of the two main detectives are having personal family problems which the author handles with honesty and empathy. The secondary characters are also fully fleshed and add to the depth and realism of the story. All the characters could walk right off the page. The politics and racial tensions are woven throughout and based on current events.
I feel this is one of the most perfectly crafted mix of characterization and plotted mystery/crime thrillers that I have read. I loved it!
I highly recommend this story.
***
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
It was known simply as The Tree; that is what the locals on Johns Island, South Carolina, called it. A Southern live oak born a thousand years ago (some even said fifteen hundred), its gargantuan limbs swirled and stretched as much as two hundred feet in all directions. The lower arms, heavy with age, sometimes sank into the earth only to reemerge. Other branches flailed recklessly in the sky, like some sort of once-screaming kraken turned to wood by an ancient curse.
Generation after generation had protected it. Rising from the center of a former indigo plantation, and now officially known as Addison’s Oak, The Tree had long been a source of pride, even fear, in the surrounding community, as well as James Island, Wadmalaw Island, and the nearby city of Charleston.
But now, The Tree was dying. It was not from natural causes either, not from time, nor gravity, nor the weather.
Someone had killed it.
“Is that a thing?” Detective Charlie Harper asked as he turned his head to look at his partner, Detective Elena Vasquez.
“I think so.” Elena squinted her eyes toward the top of the canopy, the leafy summit shadowed and backlit by the noon sun.
“Arborcide? That’s a thing?” Charlie asked again.
An Asian-American man in his mid-twenties wearing wraparound sunglasses stood next to the two detectives. “Yep. You remember that incident a few years ago in Auburn? Toomer’s Corner. Crazy Alabama fan poisoned the tree there.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “But I mean legally. Is it legally a crime to do this?”
“Cops were involved there,” the man said. “The guy went to jail. Has to be something. Why don’t you call them? See what they did.” He pulled a pack of spearmint gum from the front pocket of his jeans and stuffed five pieces in his mouth, noticing Charlie watching him. “Quitting smoking. Nicotine gum makes me dizzy.”
Charlie nodded. “Been there.” Six feet tall, with a closely trimmed beard under bright-blue eyes, he walked around the perimeter of the field.
Salt air swirled around him—they were only a couple of miles from the beach—and Charlie realized it was the first time he had been away from the city and out on the islands in months, maybe even over a year.
Elena Vasquez, an athletic five-ten with shoulder-length black hair bobby-pinned over her ears, stood in front of the young man and opened a new page in the Notes app on her iPhone. “So, you’re the one who called about this?”
“Yes. It took some digging to figure out who to contact. I didn’t know there weren’t any police stations out here.”
“That’s correct.” She typed the date 5/19/2015 at the top of the page. “Closest station is the Island Sheriff’s Patrol on James Island, but they don’t handle things like this. That’s why you got us from the city. And who are you again?”
“Daniel Lee.”
She looked up from her iPhone. “Daniel is a nice name. It’s my son’s name, though we call him Danny. Where are you from, Mr. Lee?”
“I’m originally from Maryland—Chesapeake Bay area—but now I live in Charleston. West Ashley. I’m a Ph.D. candidate at the college.”
“College of Charleston?” Elena asked and continued typing.
“Yes. Environmental science. Teach a couple of undergrad classes as well. And I’m president of the local Sierra Club chapter. Our service project for this year has been public park maintenance and cleanup. I came here a week ago and saw that broken limb—”
“This one?” Charlie pointed at a fat twisted branch about the length of a Greyhound bus lying near the base of the tree.
“Yes.”
“Well . . .” Charlie said. “How do you know it wasn’t lightning or something?”
Daniel went over to Charlie and squatted next to the fallen limb. “There are no burn marks. Lightning would leave those.”
“Maybe it’s just old age. Isn’t this thing like a thousand years old or something?”
“Possibly more. It is rotting,” Daniel said. “But not from old age. See this discoloration? The rust-colored saturation of the stump where it broke?”
Charlie leaned in a little closer. “Yes.”
“That’s from poison, from a lot of poison. And you can see spots like this forming and spreading all around the trunk and on other branches.”
Elena stood beneath The Tree, placing her hand on a dark-orange splotch on the trunk. The gray bark surrounding the stain felt tough and firm, but inside the color spot, it was soft and crumbling. “I see it.”
“It’s like cancer,” Daniel said. “The Tree is not dead yet, but it will be soon. I had the soil tested as well as samples from the broken limb. They came back positive for massive levels of DS190.”
“And that is?” Charlie said.
“A variant of tebuthiuron. A very powerful herbicide. Similar to what was used at Toomer’s Corner. Somebody has been injecting the tree as well as dumping it into the ground. Probably for a few months to reach these levels.”
“Injecting the tree?” Elena said.
Daniel pulled them over to the base of the trunk where a ring of jagged holes stretched just above the ground. “Yes. See these gashes? Somebody has been boring into the trunk, then filling it with DS190.”
Charlie took out a pair of latex gloves and put them on before touching the holes in the trunk. “You’re sure this is intentional?”
“Has to be. This stuff doesn’t just appear on its own. It’s man-made. Someone has been doing this.”
“But why?” Charlie asked.
Daniel held out a hand, palm up. “Thus, the reason the two of you are here.”
Charlie shook his head. “I don’t know about this. We usually work homicide.”
Daniel gestured towards the gashes in the trunk. “You have a murder victim. Or soon will. Right in front of you.”
“But it’s a tree!” Charlie said.
Elena looked up from her phone. “Okay, Mr. Harper. Easy.”
Daniel motioned for them to follow as he walked to the backside of the trunk. “There’s something else.” He came to a stop in a patch of grass ringed with dandelion sprouts and pointed to dark-red streaks spread across the blades. “That’s blood, isn’t it?”
Charlie bent down and touched his gloved hand to one of the blades. “Maybe.” He took out a plastic bag and a Leatherman multitool from his jacket. He pulled apart the hinged scissors, then clipped away about a dozen pieces of grass and dropped them into the bag.
“And another thing,” Daniel said and led Elena to a spot about ten feet away. He pointed to a white card lying in the grass. “I didn’t touch any of this, by the way. I didn’t want to disturb the crime scene . . . I watch a lot of cop shows. I know how that goes.”
“Doesn’t everyone.” Elena squatted down, taking a plastic bag from her jacket. She used tweezers to pick up the card, muddy and frayed at the edges and turned it over to reveal a yellow cat emoji, just the head, whiskers, and a faint smile, printed on the opposite side. There were no words, just the image.
A strong breeze moved through the leaves of the great tree, a sound like rain showers mixed with groaning as the heavy limbs bent in the wind.
Charlie Harper removed his glove and rubbed the edge of his dark-brown beard. Looking at the massive branches, which did seem like the arms of giants, he began to understand why The Tree was such a big deal. “Have to say, it is beautiful here. Can’t believe I’ve been in Charleston four years and never been here. I should bring Amy. She’d love it.”
Daniel looked at Elena for an explanation.
“His daughter,” she said, then turned to Charlie. “You should. My dad brought me here a few times when I was a kid.”
“Well, you better hurry,” Daniel said.
“There’s nothing to stop it?” Elena asked.
“Probably not. I contacted a team of forestry researchers I know from Virginia Tech. They are going to send a team down to look at it, see if anything can be done. I sent a request to the Parks Department to pay for it. If they don’t, Sierra Club will hold a fundraiser.”
Charlie sighed. “Okay. While we decide what to do about this, I’ll call and have some signs and barriers put up to keep the tourists away.”
Elena turned to Daniel. “Thank you for meeting us here. Could you come to our station in the city today or tomorrow to give a formal statement?”
“Sure.”
“Bring copies of the lab work. We gonna find anything when we do a background check on you?”
Daniel shook his head. “No. Just some parking tickets . . . a lot of tickets actually. Parking at the college is a bitch.”
“That it is,” Elena said. “Here is my card if you think of anything else.”
“Thanks,” Daniel said. He stopped a moment as if to say something, then continued toward a white Chevy Volt parked near the road.
Elena looked at Charlie and raised her eyebrows. “So, Mr. Harper, what do you think?”
“Ehh . . . I mean I understand it’s old and rare and special and all that, but it’s a fucking tree. I don’t know anything about trees, do you?”
“No, but . . .”
“But what?”
“I don’t know,” Elena said and looked around the field. “My Spidey-sense tells me there’s more to it than just some weird vandalism.” She took a step forward and winced.
“Back acting up?” Charlie asked.
“A bit,” she said.
“Lunchtime anyway. Let’s take a break. I’m starving. June and I got into it again this morning. Skipped breakfast.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Elena swept a strand of black hair behind her ear. She pointed with her chin down a two-lane road to a crooked sign with a faded image of a pagoda: The Formosa Grill. “Chinese?”
“Sure,” Charlie said.
The two of them began to walk toward their gray Ford Explorer when Charlie saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and knelt in the grass. He used his Leatherman tool to again pry away several blades.
“What is it?” Elena asked.
Charlie’s head bolted upright, his blue eyes narrowing. “Mr. Lee!” he shouted. He pulled another latex glove from his pocket.
In the parking lot, Daniel climbed out of his car and made his way back to the field. “Yes?”
“Mr. Lee, when was the last time you were here before meeting us today?”
“Yesterday morning,” Daniel said.
Elena knelt next to Charlie, looked into the grass, and let a low whistle escape her lips. She used her phone to take a photo.
Charlie used tweezers to pick up a severed finger. Sliced just below the knuckle, the stump crusted in blood, the flesh covered with red ants, it ended with a sharp green fingernail. He looked at Daniel. “Did you happen to notice this?”
Daniel swallowed hard, turning his face to the side. “No. I did not.”
Charlie put the finger in a plastic bag.
Elena looked at him, her wide brown eyes giving him a knowing shimmer. “You interested in this case now, Mr. Harper?”
Charlie didn’t flinch. He stared at The Tree.
***
Author Bio
RUSH LEAMING has done many things including spending 15+ years in film/video production working on such projects as The Lord of the Rings films. His first novel, Don’t Go, Ramanya, a political thriller set in Thailand, was self-published in the fall of 2016 and reached number one on Amazon. His equally successful second novel, entitled The Whole of the Moon, a coming-of-age tale set in the Congo at the end of the Cold War, was published in 2018. His short stories have appeared in Notations, 67 Press, Lightwave, Green Apple, 5k Fiction, and The Electric Eclectic. He has lived in New York City, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Zaire, Thailand, Spain, Greece, England, and Kenya. He currently lives in South Carolina.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on the Virtual Author Book Tours for CITY OF DEADLY DREAMS by Elyse Douglas.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Description
Dane Cooper, an NYC Hell’s Kitchen private detective, is hired by a Tennessee man to find his handsome, 20-year-old son named Elvis, who has been missing for several months. Though hesitant at first, Dane takes the case because he needs the money. Dane soon learns that the case centers around a beautiful, mysterious blonde, named Darcy. Against his better judgment, he falls for her, believing she might lead him to Elvis. Her dangerous secrets trouble him, and he realizes he can’t trust her.
Dane’s investigation turns deadly when he learns that Elvis has left a trail of pregnant young girls, unhappy husbands, and vengeful women. Dane becomes a target as he struggles to find Elvis and save him from the killers who are closing in. Can Dane save Elvis and himself, or will Darcy’s secrets get them all killed?
Publisher: Broadback (May 1, 2021) Category: Hard-Boiled Mystery, Private Investigator Mystery Tour dates: May 31-June 30, 2021 ISBN: B08Y86X4B3 Available in ebook, 250 pages
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
CITY OF DEADLY DREAMS by Elyse Douglas is a noir style private investigator mystery. The story has the atmosphere of an old style gritty P.I. mystery, but it is set in present day New York City.
Private Investigator Dane Cooper is hired to find Elvis. Elvis is a twenty-year old spitting image of THE Elvis and he has not been in contact with his father and mother in Tennessee for several months. Dane is hesitant to take the case, but he is offered too much money to turn the case down.
As the investigation progresses, Dane begins to believe Elvis has been a victim of foul play. He meets Elvis’ ex-high school music teacher, Darcy who is rumored to have been having an affair with her student. Darcy is a beautiful blonde and Dane falls for her even as he believes she is not telling him the whole truth about Elvis’ where abouts.
As Dane follows the trail to find Elvis, he runs into a vengeful, jealous ex-husband, a madame of a male escort service and a connected Vegas assistant casino manager with a missing underage daughter. Will Dane find and save not only Elvis, but himself before they end up dead?
This is a fast-paced mystery plot with several well placed red-herrings and plot twists. The ending is a big twist that I was not expecting. Dane is the tough, single POV investigator and all the characters are classic noir character archetypes set in the present and that makes for a unique and fun read.
I recommend this noir style P.I. mystery set in the present.
***
Excerpt
“I can’t go back,” she muttered.
“Back to where, Darcy?”
“I can’t be alone in that apartment. Not now. I won’t make it through another night.”
“Do you have a friend or relative you can stay with? Maybe a therapist you can call?”
She twisted away, grimacing. “God, no. I can’t be with them—with anyone who knows me. I can’t talk to them anymore. Don’t you understand? I can’t.”
I softened my voice. “Darcy… Is there anyone at work you can…?”
“… No…Well, Carol. Carol Hemmings. Sweet Carol. Silly Carol. We went to high school together. She’s a good friend, and she’s the one who got me the bookkeeping job, but…”
“But what?”
“Carol’s married to a guy who took Rod’s side. Carol is a good friend, but she still thinks Rod and I can make it, if we’d just go to a marriage counselor or something.” Darcy lifted a weak hand and let it drop. “She’s a hopeless romantic…”
She began twisting her hands. Her face fell into agony. “I’ve just been such a fool.”
I leaned in toward her. “Darcy, all you did was fall in love. That’s all. That’s nothing to beat yourself up about.”
“Don’t you see? I’ve ruined everything. Everything I stood for and believed in.”
I searched for the right response. “Just give it time… a little time to get your balance back.”
She shook that away, gathered herself up, then gave me a strange and hopeful look. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but… can I come to New York with you?”
That jarred me. I had never even considered the possibility. I scanned her, up and down. She appeared sickened by the gravity of the moment. Seeing her moist eyes and brittle state, I was left with few options. And, no, I’m not a saint. Having her with me couldn’t hurt: she was my best hope for contacting Elvis. Her question had changed the quality of the conversation. We sat in a guarded silence. She turned to face the open window, staring out into the gray face of winter.
“Look, Darcy, you can come with me—if that’s what you really want—but maybe making contact with an old friend or close relative—going to see them and forgetting about everything for a while—might be better for you.”
She shrank, and I could see the dark remoteness return. She was silently screaming for help, and I wasn’t qualified to administer the kind of help she needed. What could I do? Leave her? Say no? Then what?
I decided not to abandon her. I decided to listen and let her unload her mountain of guilt and anger. I hoped that after a good night’s sleep, she’d change her mind. And I was sure that by morning, she would change her mind.
“Darcy, you can come to New York with me if you want. You can stay the night at the hotel with me, if you want. I have two double beds, or, you can take a separate room. That’s fine too. I’ll call the airline and get you on my flight leaving for New York in the morning.”
She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “I know I sound a little crazy. I know you’ve just met me and I hear my own crazy words, but I can’t help it. I can’t go back to that lonely apartment and I can’t be alone. I hate being alone. I’m not a person who can be alone.”
***
About the Author
Elyse Douglas is the pen name for the married writing team Elyse Parmentier and Douglas Pennington. Elyse grew up near the sea, roaming the beaches, reading and writing stories and poetry, receiving a master’s degree in English Literature. She has enjoyed careers as an English teacher, an actress and a speech-language pathologist.
Douglas has worked as a graphic designer, a corporate manager and an equities trader. He attended the Cincinnati College Conservatory of Music and played the piano professionally for many years.
