Wednesday, November 6, 2024

Showcase: MRS. ODBODDY AND THE CONNIVING CANIDATE (A WWII tale of political shenanigans and snookery) by Elaine Faber

Even as WWII wages across the Pacific, election time has come to Newbury. Mrs. Odboddy has had enough of the city council making it difficult for women to gain licenses to start businesses, even in their own homes. Agnes decides to run for the vacant city council seat. That’s when the trouble starts, first when someone breaks into her house, opens the pipes, and floods her kitchen. Katherine and her colored friend are attacked in a race-related assault, and the local church is vandalized.

 Were all these disasters intended to discourage Agnes from continuing her campaign? That’s when an official accusation of theft is filed against her by her political opponent, Horace Faggenbacher, owner of The Flying Red Horse gas station. 

To make matters worse, Katherine’s ex-fiance is back in town declaring his undying love, attempting to convince her to marry him. With each disaster that affects the family, Dr. Dew-Right somehow manages to lend such helpful assistance that Katherine is prevented from kicking him to the curb. But, when anonymous claims against Agnes result in the state’s plans to take away their beloved ward, Mattie, Agnes knows she’s up against a conniving opponent who will stop at nothing to prevent her winning the election. 

How can she prevail against such sinister attacks when her family is at risk? Is winning an election really worth it? On the other hand, how can she allow this conniving candidate’s assaults against her reputation and family force her out of the race? Join Agnes in her journey against overwhelming odds as she attempts to win an election that could help bring about more equitable decisions to the Newbury citizens, to the women in town, and the colored community. 


Mrs. Odboddy Hometown Patriot
Mrs. Odboddy Undercover Courier 
Mrs. Odboddy and Then There was a Tiger
Mrs. Odboddy's Desparate Doings
Mrs. Odboddy and the Conniving Candidate

About the Author

Elaine Faber's short stories are published in magazines and multiple anthologies. She is an active member of Sisters in Crime, Elk Grove Wrters Guild, and Northern California Publishers and Authors. 

The Mrs. Odboddy mysteries are set in Northern CA during WWII, a humorous historical fiction both informative and funny. Mrs. Odboddy - Hometown Patriot is the first in Elaine's WWII humorous mystery series. Mrs. Odboddy fights the war from the home front, seeing conspiracies and spies around every corner. When Mrs. Roosevelt comes to town to attend a funeral, Agnes's fears become a reality and she must prove she is, indeed a hometown patriot. 

All books are reader friendly without explicit sex, extreme violence or profanity. Elaine's short stories are published in 21 anthologies over the past 7-8 years. Elaine lives in Elk Grove, CA, with her husband. They currently share their home with two house cats.


Friday, November 1, 2024

Book Review: TAKE THE WHEEL (Previously published as BLIND BAKE : Maddie Baker #1) by Denise Grover Swank

About the Book

Maddie Baker just wants to make ends meet. She gave up her school librarian career to return to her hometown and take care of her elderly aunt. So when she starts making Uber runs to supplement her barista job, she never dreamt she’d not only drop a man off to his murder but be labeled a person of interest in his death. 

Detective Noah Langley is looking for a fresh start in a city with a lower crime rate and a fraction of the population of Memphis. It’s just what he needs to recover from a nightmare that left him severely injured and his teenage mentee dead. The first murder since he’s arrived in Cockamamie is a chance to prove to his boss and himself he should be there. 

Noah doesn’t have many leads, but the few he has all tie back to one person: Maddie Baker. She doesn’t seem the type, but the last time he presumed someone was innocent he nearly died. Has Noah lost his instincts? Because if he can’t trust his gut, it might be time to turn in his badge. 

Review 

Maddie Baker returns to her old home town, not so naive and less trusting. Only her elderly aunt needs help. Maddie juggles multiple jobs and ends up a suspect in a murder - wrong place, wrong time. But she's determined and begins to collect clues on her own, to prove her innocence. 

The new detective, Noah, in town moved from the city to a small town, not expecting to have to deal with a homicide right off. He also has his own baggage. Maddie and Noah get off on the wrong foot, but as the story progresses, there are definite signs of a romance brewing. 

This is the first in the Maddie Baker series, and a good start to a series. The main characters are well-developed and the small town and its culture are described. As with other works by this author, this is a well-written cozy mystery, with a steady pace, and unexpected surprises. Even with the murder solved, there's still more to come with Maddie (and perhaps Noah) and more mysteries to solve. This is the first of three books in the series.


About the Author 

Denise Grover Swank is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal best-selling author who writes mystery and romance. She lives in Lee's Summit, Missouri, a suburb of Kansas City, Missouri. She's a single mother to six kids and four dogs. She spends her free time binging Netflix, drinking wine, and reading. Not necessarily in that order.

Saturday, October 26, 2024

Book Review: MURDER IN NEW MEXICO (A Cottonwood Springs Cozy Mystery #15) by Dianne Harman

About the Book (from Amazon)

In the vast landscapes of New Mexico, a chilling cold case casts a long shadow over a small town, harboring secrets that some will kill to keep. 

Brigid knew investigating a murder from over fifteen years ago wouldn’t be easy. Time fades memories, clues deteriorate, and witnesses disappear. But when a friend pleads for her help, Brigid cannot turn away. Venturing into unfamiliar territory, she's met with more than just the challenge of piecing together a jigsaw from the past – the town has its own secrets, buried deep within, fiercely guarded by those who have everything to lose. 

As Brigid delves deeper, she encounters old grudges that never quite faded, and a tightly-knit community that protects its own. It’s a place where hatred has endured the test of time, manifesting into present-day hate crimes against those daring enough to unearth the truth. 

With her ever-faithful Newfoundland, Jett, by her side, Brigid is determined to find the killer, even as the lines blur between the past and present. But the killer is equally determined, and for them, Brigid's quest for truth makes her a threat that must be silenced. Experience a riveting tale of suspense, where the past's cold embrace meets the burning dangers of the present. 

Review 

Brigid gets involved in this cold case because of her friend, with Jett to help out. As she pursues clues, she calls on a sheriff she has worked with before for assistance. Brigid's investigative skills shine. In the end she is able to find answers and help her friend on, fulfilling a promise made when the man was killed. 

The story is well-written, well-plotted, and engaging. The unexpected twists and turns keep the story moving. The descriptions of Cottonwood are delightful.This is my first in the series, and was easily read as a stand-alone mystery. Still, I always recommend starting at the beginning. 

About the Author 

USA Today Bestselling Author and Amazon All-Star, Dianne Harman, draws her stories and characters from a diverse business and personal background. She owned a national antique and art appraisal business for many years, left that industry, and opened two yoga centers where she taught yoga and certified yoga instructors. 

She's traveled extensively throughout the world and loves nothing more than cooking with her husband, Tom, and playing with their boxer dog, Kelly. Being a dog lover and having attended numerous cooking schools, she couldn't resist writing about food and dogs. 

She’s the author of several cozy mystery series: Cedar Bay, Liz Lucas, High Desert, Midwest, Cottonwood Springs, and Chef Dani Rosetti. Most of these books contains recipes from her travels. She is also the author of the award-winning suspenseful Coyote Series, Midlife Journey Series, Holly Lewis Mystery Series, Miranda Riley Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series, and the Maria Rodriguez Mystery Series.
 


Wednesday, October 23, 2024

AN ITCH OF SECRECY (An Izzie Di Sante Mystery #5) by Christa Nardi


Amidst the Christmas chaos, a friend's urgent plea for help places one more challenge on Izzie’s already overflowing plate. 

Known for his immense wealth and his impact on private healthcare services, Carson J. Keltce’s murder had ripple effects from the small town of Blanton to Baltimore and beyond. Izzie Di Sante, a restaurant owner with a passion for investigative reporting, is pulled into the investigation when her best friend calls sobbing. Nicole was living with CJ and the police have her pegged as a person of interest. The police question Nicole's involvement, given the strained relationships CJ had with his family and the secrecy surrounding his personal life. 

Even though the restaurant is crazy with the Christmas holidays and Chloe's upcoming wedding, Izzie somehow makes time to look into CJ’s murder. Her questions soon ruffle someone's feathers. With each revelation, the danger intensifies, and Izzie must stay sharp to navigate the perilous path ahead and uncover the secrets that led to CJ's tragic end.

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER 1

Whenever I thought of my sister’s upcoming wedding amidst the holiday rush, I panicked. If ever things could go wrong in the restaurant business, this combination spelled disaster. To make it worse, Chloe, as the chef for our family restaurant, took charge of the menu for her own wedding. 

As a diversion, I checked the homicide alerts for recent murders near Pinewood, Maryland, where I lived. Although the restaurant took up most of my time, Chloe and I had worked out ways for me to take time off to feed my passion for investigative reporting. I was most interested in those cases where it seemed as if the police had nabbed the most convenient suspect or they had no suspects.

One alert caught my attention. Other than the victim’s name, there was little information shared. “A shooting yesterday in Blanton, MD, resulted in the death of Carson J. Keltce, outside his home. If you have any information, please contact the Blanton PD.” 

From his picture, Keltce was an attractive man, white, probably a professional from the jacket and tie. There had been only one update since the earlier post. Again, the alert shared meager information. 

“Police responded to a call of a shooting and a man down. First responders pronounced Carson J. Keltce dead at the scene. Anyone with information should contact the police.” 

Blanton wasn’t that far from the family restaurant, Cenare, I co-owned with Chloe. From the information I pulled up, Blanton was a small town, probably a bedroom community for some working and living in DC. The pictures showed mansions and large homes. 

I’d never been to Blanton, and I avoided DC with all the tourists and traffic whenever possible. My best friend since high school, Nicole Mancini, worked in DC as a social worker. It occurred to me I hadn’t heard from her for a while. I took a deep breath, cuddled with my cat, Tira, showered, and dressed. 

After more than a month back living in my childhood home, the short drive to Cenare no longer bothered me. I still kept dresses and shoes in the upstairs loft there, where I’d lived for several years. Back then, my only commute to work had been a flight of stairs. 

I arrived at Cenare before Chloe, as always. I spent my early mornings working on the books and checking the status of orders. I went upstairs to the office and took care of those tasks, then headed back downstairs to start the inventory. Chloe arrived and handed me a breakfast casserole. Her breakfast treats were always a pleasant surprise. 

“Thanks, Chloe. I don’t know why, but I’m hungry. Probably the cold front.”

 “It’s definitely chilly out there. Great idea to put a coat rack in the side room.”

 She pulled off her jacket and set it on the rack next to mine. I handed her the menu, and she opened her mouth to say something as my phone pinged. I smiled, put my hand up to Chloe, and answered. 

“Hey, Nicole. How are you?” 

“Izzie.” She sobbed. 

“What’s wrong? Are you sick? Your parents?” 

Chloe’s mouth dropped, and she froze in place. 

Between sobs, I caught a few words. “CJ.” “Police.” “Dead.” 

“Try to calm down. I think you’re trying to tell me something about someone named CJ, the police, and someone died. Who’s CJ?” 

“He’s the person in charge at HHS – Home Health Services. The company I work for.” She gave off an anguished cry. 

“Are you seeing or involved with CJ?” 

“Yes. Only he’s dead, Izzie. The police came and asked me questions. Someone killed him.” 

“Is his last name Keltce?” 

“Yes. How did you know that?” 

Chloe put her hands out and I mouthed, “Later.” She shrugged and got to work.

 “I spotted the alert this morning. I’m surprised the Baltimore police sought you out already.” Nicole lived in the outskirts of DC, with most of the places she worked in the DC area. 

“I wasn’t home. I was at his house. Inside when someone shot him in the driveway.” 

“OMG. Nicole, did you see the shooter?” 

“No. The police asked me that, too. I was in the kitchen. I heard the shots and ducked. Don’t ask me why I ducked. I did. When I heard no more noise, I looked out the front door. CJ was on the ground, flowers by his side. I called the police.” 

“Was he alive then? Did he say anything?” 

“I checked for a pulse. Only I couldn’t find one. I called out his name. Blood everywhere. I got sick by the hedges as the police arrived.” 

She cried some more. “Before you ask, the police also asked if I knew anyone who had a beef with him. Not enough to kill him in cold blood. Some people groused about their hours and cases and pay.” 

“Are you okay? Do you need to work today?” It was Tuesday and in the past, Nicole’s hours were sporadic. 

“I’m due at the Medical Rehab Center at noon. On call for all trauma victims for the next twelve hours. Izzie, the police told me not to leave the area. I explained about my job. The two of them argued whether it was beyond the usual limit. Finally, the older one, Sandler, cleared me to go to work and warned they’d be checking to make sure I showed up.”

"Are you okay with going to work?” 

“Yes. I think so. I need something normal. Maybe I’ll call and see if anyone can take my shift. Why would the police check on me?” 

“Usually in a homicide, they always look at the people closest to the victim and in the area at the time it happened. You’re both.” 

“That‘s why they wiped off my hands, right? I tried to explain the maple syrup, only they weren’t listening. Do I need an attorney, Izzie?” 

“Maybe. Maybe not. If you can’t afford one and you need one, they’ll assign a public defender. In the meantime, be careful what you say to them.” 

I heard the doorbell in the background. 

“Izzie. I have to go. The police are back.” She disconnected. 

The last time we’d talked, she’d broken up with Mickey. The only other thing I remembered were her comments about doing the work of two people and budget cuts. She’d talked of changing jobs and mentioned a change in leadership. I’d tried to convince her to look for a job closer to Pinewood. That hadn’t happened, and now a murder.

Excerpt from AN ITCH OF SECRECY. Copyright © 2024. All rights reserved.



Reawakening the Itch (Prequel) 
An Itch for Justice 
The Itch of Murder 
An Itch of Danger 
The Itch of Scandal 
An Itch of Secrecy




Monday, October 21, 2024

Book Review: OPERATION PROTECTED ANGEL (Shepard Security Series Book 1) by Margaret Kay

Not a cozy.... more romantic suspense/military...

ABOUT THIS BOOK 

Angel Matthew’s day started like any other…until she ran into the armed man in the hallway at work. What came next was a blur, a hostage ordeal, a terrorist attack, explosions and gunfire, a fight for her life. Then she wakes with a head injury and finds herself in the custody of a group of armed men, who won’t disclose exactly who they are. One of them, the attractive and attentive Jackson is kind and Angel finds herself trusting him, falling for him. 

Shepherd Security recruits only the best. They can protect someone in trouble like no other because they work in the shadows, invisible, and outside the system where the rules don’t apply–just the oath they took. They don’t exist. That’s also why they can break any suspect and can get answers out of anyone accused. 

That’s when they’re called in, when someone must be protected at all costs, or when answers must be obtained, by any means necessary. Sometimes it’s not clear, though, is the person in their custody a witness or the perpetrator, a friendly or a foe, innocent or guilty as sin? Angel Matthews fits into this category–where exactly needs to be determined. 

Warning, this story is realistic, with adult language and content. It does contain one scene of violence and abuse, followed by healing and strength on the way to the HEA.

REVIEW 

Angel's plight is real and she goes from one terrifying situation to another as "guest" of those who rescued her but can't determine if she is friend or foe. Jackson is primary and is conflicted with his sense of duty and his more primal instincts. Tension mounts regarding the possible terrorists and questions of whether Jackson can still be effective.

A story of off-the-books warriors protecting the nation's security, the pace is quick, the tension is thick. The characters of Angel and Jackson are well-developed and add a romantic twist to the tale. As indicated in the warning, there is profanity and violence, and mild adult content, but all with a HEA. At least until the next assignment.  This is the first book in the Shepard Security series, a new series and author for me. 


ABOUT THE AUTHOR 

Margaret Kay is a wife, a mother of two adult children, a grandmother, a pet lover who makes her own dog food from scratch, and is a writer of Military Romance Novels and other genres as well. Margaret's husband proudly served 8 years in the United States Navy. She's a veteran of more than a few deployments as the spouse who took care of the family while her military member served halfway around the world.

Tuesday, October 15, 2024

Book Review: CREAM CARAMEL AND MURDER (Holly Holmes Cozy Clinary Mystery Series Book 2) by K. E. O'Connor

About the Book:

With its stunning turrets and beautiful rose gardens, I always thought Audley Castle was perfect, set in the idyllic English village of Audley St. Mary. It’s a place I love to call home. But behind the trimmed hedgerows, stately gardens, and birdsong, a killer is waiting… 

After being forced to close my charming café in this quaint little village, I'm thrilled to get a job in the Audley Castle kitchens, making divine treats for visitors and serving the Audley family who live in the castle. 

The joy fades when I take my beloved dog for a walk, and he leads us to the body of a family friend, Kendal Jakes. Seemingly caught in the act of tampering with evidence by the castle’s security team, I become the number one murder suspect! It’ll take more than my skills with a piping bag to solve this crisis. 


As fingers get pointed at me, I have no choice but to take matters into my flour-covered hands and clear my name. As I snoop, I discover old rivalry, jealousy, and long-standing grudges. 

Having mastered the art of creating a perfectly fluffy souffle, I’m known for my determination to get things right, and I won’t rest until I uncover the truth about this murder. Even if doing so puts me in the killer’s line of sight. 

Review 

The castle setting is superb and Holly is not only a great pastry chef, but a wonderful, if somewhat naive main character. Her cafe closed, she takes a job at the castle and makes friends with Lady Alice and Lord Rupert. When one of Rupert's visiting friends is killed, Holly is cast as the killer and they rally behind her while she continues sleuthing - despite the admonitions of the head of security. The memorial garden is very inviting. 

The primary characters are well-developed and hard to forget. The pace is steady and the ending is somewhat of a surprise. Throughout the book, Holly is baking sweets and trying to fix an old bread recipe. They all sounded delicious! With vivid descriptions and hints of romance amidst the murder investigation, this one has the hallmarks of a cozy mystery.


About K E O'Connor 

K.E. O'Connor is the author of the Witch Haven mystery series, the Crypt Witch cozy mysteries, the Lorna Shadow ghost mysteries, the Holly Holmes baking mysteries, the Zee Town paranormal cozy series, and the Old Sarum mystery series, along with other titles available if you cast the right spell. She can imagine dragons, taste cookies when they aren't even there, and hear the crack of a witch's broom at a hundred paces. 

K.E. (the K stands for Karen) lives in the United Kingdom (it isn't very united, but that's a mystery for another time) among the mystical stones and fairy creatures of Somerset. She graduated from the Universities of Southampton and Reading, where she received degrees in Archaeology and Cognitive Evolution (both highly entertaining to take part in, but with the career options of a ground witch's toe bone.) This is the second in the series but easily read as a stand-alone. 



Monday, October 14, 2024

Book Showcase: THE BLUFF by Bonnie Traymore


Synopsis:

The Bluff by Bonnie Traymore

“What do you have to lose, Kate?” Ryan asked me, as we stood on the bluff looking out on Lake Michigan.

Turns out, almost everything.

When I first moved from Manhattan to this small town six years ago, I worried about many things. I worried about finding a job. I worried that I’d be bored. I worried that my relationship with charming photographer Ryan Breslow was moving too fast. But I never worried about whether the ground beneath my feet would crumble—both literally and figuratively.

My marriage didn’t go as I’d imagined. A year ago, Ryan met his untimely death in a car accident that’s still under investigation. Isolated and alone, all I wanted was to sell my home and leave Crest Lake and its painful memories behind.

But with my home inching ever closer to the edge of the crumbling bluff, the property has become unmarketable. All of us on the lakefront have lost chunks of property, and tempers are at a boiling point about what to do next.

And now, on the evening of a contentious vote about how to fix this pressing issue, my nemesis on the shoreline committee has been murdered. I know how it looks, but it’s not what it seems. But I have to get my plan passed and cash out.

Because I do have secrets.

And they won’t stay buried forever.

Praise for THE BLUFF:

"With a slow-burn intensity that explodes into a jaw-dropping finale, this psychological thriller is both bingeworthy and delicious. Traymore is a master of layered tension, and she left me guessing until the last page."
~ Noelle W. Ihli, #1 bestselling author of Gray After Dark

"With its high-stakes plot and complex characters, the novel is a masterclass in building tension and intrigue."
~ NetGalley

"Gripping and full of surprises, The Bluff is a clever psychological suspense with layered characters and an atmospheric setting. Traymore masterfully ratchets up the tension little-by-little until the shocking, explosive end."
~ Tracey Devlyn, USA Today bestselling author

"This was a slow burn psychological suspense that heated up to a twisty, thrilling finale. A domestic thriller with a timely topic in the background. Great setting. Highly recommended."
~ NetGalley

Book Details:
Genre: Domestic Thriller, Psychological Thriller
Published by: Self/ Pathways Publishing imprint
Publication Date: September 1, 2024
Number of Pages: 277
PRINT ISBN: 979-8218417543

Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

PROLOGUE

Doug Mitchell takes in the shoreline of Lake Michigan, letting his Sundancer drift around in the currents. The sight of his house high atop the bluff reminds him of what’s at stake. The vote is tonight, and it’s sure to be a doozy of an evening. There’s a cool wind whipping up what little sand remains on the shrinking beach, and he can see the bare patch of earth where the southern stairs collapsed two years ago. But he feels safe and warm on the deck with the soon-to-be-setting sun still overhead, beaming down on him.

It’s not the same shoreline it was decades ago, but then the world is an ever-changing place. He knows this, although he doesn’t let on about it to most people. Right now, his mind is drifting to another place, and he feels a delightful stirring. He pictures the curve of her back. Her slender, graceful neck. The look on her face when he makes her moan. He takes another sip of his cocktail, closes his eyes, and sinks into it.

After a few minutes, a different kind of feeling washes over him. He’s dizzy. And tired. Way too tired. He’s barely had one drink. He opens his eyes, and the world appears blurry. He feels clumsy. Almost immobile. Shaking his head, he tries to snap out of it, but everything’s…

Fuzzy.

Confused.

Off.

He came out here alone, he thought, although he didn’t check the cabin before leaving the dock. A figure is standing on the deck now, too far away from him to make out who it is. It’s someone, though, and even with his mind dulled, he knows this isn’t good.

Seized with panic, he struggles to pull himself out of the quagmire. Finding a last burst of strength, he attempts to spring up and go on the offensive, but his legs are like rubber. His body rocks forward a bit, accomplishing nothing.

He sinks back into oblivion as the figure approaches.

You?

ONE

Kate

I arrive five minutes late, breathless from my run in from the parking lot. The proceedings haven’t started yet. I rush in, whip off my scarf and coat, and take a seat.

Just in time.

The stage is set for a contentious evening. Tonight, the town council will vote on the pressing issue of the failing bluff. I head up the shoreline committee, and I’ve been invited here this evening to present my plan, one of two the board will consider.

“Hi Kate,” the board member next to me says. “Glad you made it.”

She gives my shoulder a squeeze, confirming that I’ve got her vote.

“Of course,” I say. “Sorry I’m late.”

A tingling sensation creeps up my spine, and a feeling of dread squeezes my stomach like a vise. Perhaps it’s the weather. It’s early fall, but it may as well be the dead of winter. It’s bitter cold and gray, with intermittent downpours. The howling wind whipping off Lake Michigan has been keeping me up at night. It’s the same kind of weather we were having when my husband met his untimely death a year ago, which is likely stirring up some buried feelings. A widow at forty-one. Not the way I expected my life to go when I moved here six years ago.

“The meeting of the Crest Lake Township board of directors is now in session,” the president proclaims, banging his gavel with the countenance of a man desperate for power and relevance. Sam Bolger’s his name.

Sam takes role, and it’s lost on nobody that Doug Mitchell is absent. I fiddle with a strand of hair, twirling it between my fingers. It looks darker in this light, almost auburn. My eyes search the room, and hushed tones fill the silence as people whisper to each other.

Where the hell is Doug?

Are we really going to start without him?

I hope he’s okay.

His allies look concerned, naturally, but even his opponents seem troubled, although that could be an act. It would be unacceptable to show their glee, in the event they were feeling it. But I’m not feeling smug or excited or victorious. I’m feeling nervous. Doug is scheduled to present the opposing plan, and there’s no way he would miss this meeting.

Tempers have been flaring over the issue of what to do about the eroding bluff. The police had to be called during the last public hearing. And there have even been a few death threats, anonymous posts that most of us brushed off.

Silly, really. We’re all on the same team, trying to fight mother nature. Desperate to give ourselves the illusion of control. Struggling to keep our large, lakefront luxury homes from plummeting onto the shrinking shoreline that hugs the massive body of water eighty feet below the fragile bluff.

On some level, we all know that whatever we do will only be a stop-gap in the big picture of geological time, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s what’s making people so angry. Humanity’s stubborn insistence that we can bend the planet to our will. Because it’s obvious that we can’t, and perhaps it’s easier to blame each other than to face the realization that humans are at the mercy of forces we don’t really understand and can no longer control.

The president seems to be stalling, fumbling with his computer as he tries to pull up the agenda and project it onto the TV screen. The board member to my right shares a theory with me. Perhaps Doug’s pulling a stunt for dramatic effect, she whispers in my ear. Maybe the president’s in on it—he’s on Doug’s side—and Doug will come bursting in at the last minute, waving some new study in his hands. But after a few moments, it’s clear to everyone that’s not going to happen.

Sam tables the vote for the time being and moves on to other issues. The board gets to work. There are a handful of mundane items on the agenda aside from the one that matters to me. What to do about the shoreline. I wait patiently as the board members work through other business, waiting for Doug’s arrival. He’s a board member and I’m not, and I’m surprised that they didn’t ask me to sit outside.

I wonder what will happen if he doesn’t show. Will they postpone the vote, or will it go my way by default, with my proposal the only option? Item after item is addressed, and I can feel my pulse starting to race as they tick them off.

Parcel tax proposal.

New library budget.

Changes to the vacation rental rules.

My stomach is in knots. Because if the vote goes my way, it will be a Pyrrhic victory, inflicting massive economic consequences on my lake front neighbors. Doug’s plan to simply shore up the bluff at the toe, the spot where the waves hit and wear it down, is the simple one. The less expensive one. But it’s got the environmental groups up in arms. They’ve grown increasingly vocal over the last few years.

The environmentalists want to force the removal of all existing seawalls, like the one Doug Mitchell installed in front of his home, and ban all such structures. Let nature take its course. Force lakefront owners to move back their homes or demolish them if they are in danger of falling off the bluff. But none of them are on the shoreline committee, and none are on the board. And they’ll be upset whichever way it goes tonight.

My plan is a compromise of sorts. But if I win, there will be consequences. Expensive ones that will dramatically reduce some people’s property values and limit beach access for everyone. And lots of visceral anger, much of it directed at me, especially from my wealthy lakefront neighbors who will absorb most of the cost. Several million dollars, split between ten of us. Sweat beads form at my temples as the minutes tick along to the rhythm of the cheap wall clock mounted above my seat.

Why do they keep it so hot in here?

The council meets at the town center, a small, institutional structure that used to serve as a middle school. The chairs are small and uncomfortable. I sit up and twist from side to side, trying to stop my lower back from cramping up. After an hour or so, there’s nothing left on the agenda but the bluff, and I’m wondering if they’ll postpone my presentation and the vote.

A knock at the door startles us.

Police, a voice calls out.

The door opens, and a young officer enters tentatively, crouching his way into the room. It’s a tight community, and he’s likely a bit intimidated. We’re a powerful bunch. If he ran into one of us around town, I imagine he’d be deferential. But this isn’t a coffee shop or a grocery store, and this isn’t a social call.

After a moment, he straightens up, and his face registers the requisite look of authority. “Doug Michell’s been reported missing,” he says. “He went out on his boat earlier today and never returned. The Coast Guard is conducting a search.”

My stomach sinks, and gasps echo around the room. We all sit with the shocking news for a few moments as the officer bites his lower lip.

He continues. “We’re going to need to interview all of you. Detective Whittaker is on his way. Please stay seated and be patient.”

And with that, the vote is delayed.

***

Travis Whittaker leans back in his chair, eyeing me. I can see tension lines in the detective’s forehead. He seems to have aged since I last saw him, although his thick, dark head of hair reveals few strands of gray. It’s his eyes. They look heavy and full, like the weight of the world sits behind them.

He’s been working his way through the group, and I’m second-to-last. It would have been better to get it over with. Waiting around only increased the tension. Nobody really knew what to say to each other, so there was nothing but awkward silence filling the space between us as we stood in the hallway waiting for our turns to go in and be interviewed.

“So, Ms. Breslow. You arrived five minutes late,” he says.

“I just said that,” I reply, immediately regretting my sharp tone.

The detective’s nostrils flare, ever so slightly. He’s an attractive man for his age—early fifties or so—with a neatly trimmed beard and dark, haunting eyes. Right now, though, he looks menacing.

“Yes. I was about five minutes late,” I say, in a softer tone. My throat feels as if it’s about to close.

He narrows his eyes on me and I look away. I catch myself absent-mindedly stroking my neck and stop myself, placing my hands on the table top.

This feels all too familiar.

“And why were you late?”

“The rain,” I offer. “It got heavy when I was driving down Lakeside.” I tap my fingers on the table top as I search for something to add. “I had to drive more slowly.”

He nods and jots something down on his notepad. Almost everyone at the meeting had to drive down that road in the rain. It’s not a very good excuse, but it’s all I can give him.

“Did Doug Mitchell give you any indication that he was planning to miss the meeting tonight?” he asks.

“No, not at all,” I say. “We were all shocked when he didn’t show up tonight.”

“Have you heard from him today?” he asks.

I shake my head no.

“When’s the last time you had any contact with him?” he asks.

I look off to the side, struggling to keep myself focused and calm. I turn back to him. “In person?” I ask.

“In general,” Whittaker replies.

“We’ve been on the same email and text chain over the last week or so. Exchanging information, in anticipation of the vote.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

I swallow. He’s already seen our text stream, I assume. “Yesterday. Around seven in the evening.”

“Was that an email or a text?”

“It was a text.”

“And what did it say?”

I pull up my phone, hold it in my palm, and let him read the exchange. His eyes rest on my last line to Doug Mitchell.

If you do that, I’ll bury you.

It would have been less stressful for me if Whittaker’s face had registered some kind of surprise. Instead, he closes his notepad and puts his pen down. I struggle to keep a neutral look on my face. Then he informs me that I can leave and asks me to send in the next board member.

I start for the door but then turn back to him. “In paperwork,” I offer. “I meant I’d bury him in paperwork.” Then I turn away again and continue to the door.

“Don’t leave town,” he calls out. “We’re sure to have more questions as the investigation develops.”

I nod and keep walking.

***

As my car winds up the dark, curvy road to my lakefront home, I struggle to steady my shaking hands. This night already had me on edge, and I can feel my pulse racing as I reach the bend in the road, near the top. The part where the drop-off is the steepest. They replaced the guardrail with another one that looks exactly the same.

What was the point of that?

Sometimes I can ignore it and drive right past. On sunny days, when the sky is bright and the birds chirp and all is well in the universe. It looks so different in the daylight. But tonight is foggy and foreboding, and I drive slowly. So slowly, I’d probably get a ticket if an officer was behind me. I don’t look to my right though, because then I have to picture it, and imagine the look of terror on his face as he plunged through the rail and over the side.

What was he thinking?

Or was he not thinking at all?

Did he scream?

Or was there no time?

A chill runs up my spine as I turn carefully around the bend and breathe a sigh of relief. Sometimes, I get a sensation that he’s in the car with me, and I can almost feel his breath on my neck. And now Doug’s missing, and I have no idea what to do next or what this means for me and my shoreline plan. All I know is I have to sell my house get out of this town, before I lose my mind.

Or worse.

***

Excerpt from The Bluff by Bonnie Traymore. Copyright 2024 by Bonnie Traymore. Reproduced with permission from Bonnie Traymore. All rights reserved.

 Author Bio:

Bonnie Traymore

Bonnie Traymore is the Amazon International Bestselling author of six domestic/psychological thrillers. Her "popcorn thrillers" feature strong but relatable female protagonists who peel back the layers of suburban American life and give readers a peek inside. The plots explore difficult topics such as jealousy, infidelity, murder, and the impact of psychological disorders, but she also includes bits of romance and humor to lighten the mood from time to time. She's an active status member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America.

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