Mary and Harry "Bulldog" Drummond have been soul mates since the night over forty years ago when he busted her for rowdy behavior in Whitey's Tavern. By the time the Bulldog got Mary to the station, both knew they were meant for each other, but the Bulldog has always been a straitlaced by-the-book no-nonsense cop while Mary was born a free spirit and has a hard time holding herself in check.
Their older daughter, Estelle, very much her father's daughter is also a cop now, but younger Creighton has never wanted part of that. Being a shy, non-confrontational person, he has become an accountant.
On this particular day, Creighton is happily going to work expecting a raise and a promotion, but to his chagrin, he learns that he's being passed over and for once, trying to assert himself, Creighton goes about it badly and gets himself fired.
Poor Creighton comes dragging home in despair only to learn his father has just died. Hoping to help his mother get through this, Creighton brings her home until after the funeral. But immediately after the funeral, Mary (unlicensed) "borrows" Creighton's car and recruits a couple of gals she's known since grammar school. The trio go off into a series of adventures, misadventures, death-defying feats and a brawl with some hard-ass bikers before things settle down and somehow Mary is able despite her still wild inclinations, to get Creighton's job back along with a hefty raise and generally speaking, they all may or may not live happily ever after...well except for the four wounded and bandaged bikers sitting in a jail cell wishing they had never crossed swords with those three little old ladies.
"I laughed more at this book than at any I've ever read!!!" — Martha A. Cheves "Stir, Laugh, Repeat"
"A study in family dynamics...a fine tale with lessons for those who face similar situations." — Anne K. Edwards "Shadows over Paradise"
Hail Mary from Cambridge Books (http.//www.writewordsinc.com)
ISBN Print 978-1-61386-369-5 e-book 978-1-61386370-1
Seniors, Mourning, Death, Detectives, Crime, Bingo, Aircraft, Eggs, Omelets, Restaurants, Police, Lazy Dogs, Illiterates, Drugs, Pot, Marijuana, Whiskey, Beer, Taverns, Bikers, Fighting, Unemployment, Car Theft, Bad Bosses, Office Politics, Accounting, Pancakes, Children, Neighbors
David Zaretsky was a young man of twenty-four. Some said he was slow, and others were less kind. From earliest times he simply couldn't pay attention, his eyes were dull and when a famous painter took David in as a helper around the studio, his family breathed a sigh of relief. Having a large and successful junkyard and recycling business, they were well-off financially, but at least now, they felt David might be happier.
The famous painter however, Alejandro (Dos Ases) Arce, is not only famous for his painting, but for his drinking and wild all-night parties.
During one of these parties, David's body is found in the bathroom. He has been strangled. Neither the police nor anyone else can imagine why someone would want to murder David. Innocuous, he never bothered anyone, he did what Dos Ases told him to do without question and kept very quiet.
The case almost immediately goes cold but Bernard and Sophie Zaretsky want closure and hire Jonas McCleary to look into the case.
At first Jonas suspects that perhaps David overheard or something that made him a threat to someone, but everything he learns tells him that David didn't pay attention to what people said or did around him. To wake David up and get him to take notice, it would take something really out of the ordinary, and evidently nothing out of the ordinary was going on at just another wild party.
Then one of the party girls is found strangled in her apartment. It seems pretty clear that the murders are connected, but why...and how? Before Jonas works his way through this case, he has to deal not only with the famous painter, but with an influential talk show host, a mob boss and other characters, some more unsavory than others. The pay is good, despite the fact that the Zaretskys are junk dealers, but Jonas didn't sign on to lay his life on the line!
Coming very soon from Cambridge Books, http://writewordsinc.com #Amazon and all the usual suspect sites.
Pre-order your copy today!
"...a good read and I recommend it if you're looking for a nice clean mystery." — K. E. Nowinsky, "Going off Dreams".
So what about me? I'm me. I'm a private eye. I work alone.
I wear a fedora and a trench coat and pack an 11 mm Marley I bought at the Archie Goodwin estate sale. I know which end the slugs come out of. But 11mm slugs? hard to come by these days.
People say I've got attitude. Attitude they don't like. I get that a lot.
The cops and me? We work toward the same end, but we're like water and electricity. They think I cramp their style. Thay hate that I don't have to play by their rules.
Dealing with the cops I usually end up needing a lawyer. I need one now. The last one I had fell off the back of an ambulance and got run over by a speeding Cooper. I'm alone and on my own. It's a mean life. I'm used to it. When my casebook's empty — and it's empty a lot — I write books.
Okay, that picture's not really me. I'm just a mild-mannered fellow who loves mysteries. I sit at my desk and drink coffee, piddle around on the computer and daydream. Marley? What's a Marley? I've never seen one. I don't think there ever was such a thing. I think Archie just made the name up along with the Heron he used to drive.
I've never gone strapped (except for cash), and I've never shot anybody. Nobody's ever shot me. My wife got shot at once, but that's another story. I've been happily married to the beautiful Irma since 1967. While my head's in the clouds, she helps keep my feet on the ground. That ain't easy.
I'm sure people in law enforcement snort sometimes at boo-boos they run across in crime fiction. They may think writers are stupid or simply ignorant. FYI we may or may not know what we're writing about, but in writing there's a loophole that covers this. It's called poetic license. it's legal.
I hope you'll be able to enjoy some of my books. If you do, tell your friends. If you don't, please keep quiet about it and try another one.
When Jonas McCleary gets the opportunity to join the force in sleepy Sand Bluff, he jumps at it. A cushy job in a little town where nothing ever happens. He can relax and enjoy life, and since Jonas is getting onto thirty, he’s hoping with a little luck, to meet Miss Right.
But on his third day in Sand Bluff, another officer, Ackers, finds a body in an alley.
Now the only bright thing about Harold Ackers is his badge. Ackers thought the guy was drunk and only after he managed to get him to headquarters did someone inform Ackers that his drunk was dead. Albert Mohr, cocky and mouthy, isn’t much better, and probably not much brighter, so Chief Raymond Castillo is depending on Jonas, his only real cop with any previous training, to solve this mystery and bring a killer to justice.
As he goes around town talking to people, he meets some strange residents, especially little person, Lester/Jessica, trailer court operator and dog trainer. Lester/Jessica is also a transvestite with a mammoth bodybuilder boyfriend, and of course, there’s Larry Peters, the town insurance agent and his wife, town hussy, Twyla. Twyla’s got quite a reputation.
Jonas also meets Roxie Jenkins whose father runs the local newspaper. Could she just be Miss Right? Stay tuned!
As Jonas digs around in Sand Bluff’s dirt he learns about the horse ranch, Oak Park, and the accident. He learns too that Jessica’s father murdered Jessica’s mother twenty years ago, did his time and now works out at the ranch. Lot of bad blood there.
And then there’s Twyla. She’s hot and boy, does she know it! There isn’t a male in town that hasn’t had Twyla flirt and tease at him, including Jessica’s boyfriend, Terrence. No man is immune. For Twyla, it’s all funny. Lots of laughs. A real ego builder. Boy, would we love to read her diary!
But Sand Bluff never expected Twyla to be found lying in a pool of blood. Or did it?
What happened? Did she drive someone to murder? Any man in town might have lost it if Twyla led him on and then laughed in his face. Or how about the town’s womenfolk? Women don’t take kindly to other women flirting with their menfolk. Of course Twyla’s husband Larry is a prime suspect. She really knew how to torture him. Turns out she was pregnant too, and Larry’s sterile.
Now with two murders on his hands and no apparent connection, Jonas is wandering around in circles. As he plods along, his quest leads him out to Oak Park, the horse ranch, back to town to the Blu Lite Lounge and soon he begins to tie loose ends together as he comes closer and closer to bringing these murders to a solution. But before he can do that, there may be still more murders and surprises to come in “The Sand Bluff Murders”.
Coming soon from www.writewordsinc.com, print edition from Cambridge Books. Don’t delay! Pre-order your copy today.