Synopsis

Sitting in a Lloyd Loom chair on a Narrow Boat, moored on the Kennet and Avon Canal, a dead man stares into oblivion. Who is he and what is his name? Chief Inspector Michael Lambert from Thames Valley Police Authority unravels a murder case which stretches from Reading to Bulgaria, South Africa to Belorussia, and finally Taiwan to Peru. What at first appears to be a straightforward murder is revealed to be part of an international manhunt, the result of a major arms deal which has gone horribly wrong. The story begins with the discovery of a small mobile phone on the narrow boat and ends with the murder of a Chinese shipping magnate in the streets of London. Will anyone’s life be the same again and how will our provincial policeman cope with these different layers of intrigue?

 

A rich man’s war in poor man’s blood

Silent their cries, the lost and loved

Led to the slaughter, led by false hope

Follow behind the Judas Goat”

Hosannas from The Basements of Hell Album Lyrics

As a journalist for many years and having come in contact with all sorts of people from politicians to criminals, Patrick Brigham has published his most recent and complex murder mystery, involving a murder on the Kennet and Avon Canal in England, a stolen identity, a major arms deal which has gone horribly wrong, and a clever and thoughtful Detective Chief Inspector from Thames Valley Police Authority, who is assigned to untangle and solve this murder mystery.

Patrick Brigham takes his readers on a trip from Reading in the UK to Bulgaria, South Africa to Belorussia and from Taiwan to Peru. A trip which begins with the discovery of a small mobile phone and a dead man on an English Canal and it ends with the murder of a Chinese shipping magnate, in the streets of London.  Will anyone’s life be the same again and how will our provincial policeman cope with these different layers of intrigue?

Excerpt

The meeting with Aubrey Coetzee from the South African Embassy.

‘Why did Liam Side go to Sofia then?’

‘What can I say? He was going bust in London like many at the time because the property market was collapsing around his ears. He was getting sick of Patsy his girlfriend who was fast turning into a money freak.  She in turn was getting tired of Liam, because by then she was supporting him financially through her travel firm in Fulham. The arguments began and then this George Panov character persuaded him to move to Sofia to get away from his creditors and from this bloody girl Patsy into the bargain. It seemed the perfect solution.’

‘Where did the Balkan Western News come from?’

‘Well, he’d spent a number of years before writing articles and publishing a travel magazine in South Africa, so he was quite experienced. There was nothing for the foreign community to read in Sofia, so he went to the big western companies, who offered him their advertising support and overnight the Balkan Western News appeared on the Streets.’

‘Aubrey, please, the suspense is killing me! Just tell me why you are really here; let’s get it all out into the open.’

‘Liam Side contacted me a few days ago Mike, and before you get angry, you must remember that Side is an old friend of mine. He knows that you were in Bruges last weekend and that you stayed at the Hotel Montovani and he knows why you were there. But you don’t know why he is there, and you have no idea the danger his daughter Patricia is in either. Now, I don’t know all the ins and outs of this murder case of yours Mike, because neither Liam nor you have told me the whole story; and to be quite honest, I really don’t want to know anyway. He just wants me to give you a message.’

‘Aubrey, just tell me what it is, please.’

‘He wants me to tell you that he was not involved first hand with the man’s actual murder. He says that all he did was to rent the narrow boat and purchase the Morris Traveller. He admits that he stayed on the boat for two weeks but left three days before the murder apparently took place, which was when he went back to Belgium. He told me to tell you that his mobile phone was not found on the boat by accident any more than the Cavalry and Guards Club tie.

‘When the two killers left Belgium they asked him for a tie for the victim to wear, which he gave them together with his passport. Leaving the old copy of The Balkan Western News behind was a genuine mistake by the killers who must have thought it was an English magazine and therefore it didn’t matter.’

With a further pint of Brakspear’s bitter apiece, Lambert sat and took stock of what had been said.

Aubrey Coetzee continued, ‘Side freely admits to giving his passport to the two men knowing that they would use it to transport the victim to England, but he claims that they threatened to kill his daughter Patricia in Sofia, if he did not. As for the mobile phone, when they asked him for it, believing it might contain phone numbers which could represent a risk to them, he lied and said that he had lost it. That’s all I know Mike, make of it what you will.’

Mike Lambert did not need to be reminded that Aubrey Coetzee was in London on a diplomatic passport and immune to any intervention by the authorities. That meant that he could not be held to account, let alone be cross examined as a witness. So at ten o’clock that night they shook hands and parted on good terms. Coetzee climbed into a large white Mercedes with a black driver, and Lambert into his Dark Red Alvis convertible.

About the Author

Patrick Brigham was born in Berkshire England to an old Reading family. After attending an English Public School and College, the author Patrick Brigham went into real estate. After the economic crash of 1989 and a few other bitter experiences, in 1993 he decided to abandon London, and he moved to Sofia in Bulgaria.

In a new country with a different culture, and whilst trying hard to set up a home, a new life was definitely in store for him. A master of the comic vignette especially when consumed with disbelief, he set up the first English Language News Magazine in the Balkans called the Sofia Western News (1995-2000). As a journalist he witnessed the political and economical changes in this once hard core communist country.

Now Patrick Brigham resides in North of Greece, enjoy’s writing and his collection of classic cars.

Website * Blog * Goodreads

 

Synopsis

Against a backdrop of political change in South Eastern Europe, the story embraces disgruntled communists, cold war warriors, intrigue, deception and finally murder. Sir Arthur Cumberpot has an unspectacular career which is swiftly drawn to a close when he is appointed British Ambassador to Bulgaria. Due to some unforeseen mishaps his wife Annabel is accused of being a spy and sent home to their house in Watlington while her background is checked by MI5. Annabel is guilty of nothing, other than being the biological daughter of Jim Kilbey, Britain’s most famous spy. It seems that a jealous god has sought to visit the sins of the father upon her, but so has everyone else. She is the victim of serendipity, but also of cover ups, the duplication of thin evidence and exaggeration. But she is also heartless, treacherous, self indulgent and without shame.

 

A good conspiracy theory in an ex communist country or how a career can be destroyed by duplicity, stupidity and a good measure of gossip!

Oh what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive.”  ~ Sir Walter Scott ~   Marmion -Canto VI Stanza 17

With his pen Patrick Brigham reveals the diplomatic lifestyle of the British Ambassador in Sofia – Sir Arthur Cumberpot – and spins an elaborate web, involving both the intelligence services of Bulgaria and UK. Together they successfully destroy the diplomatic career of the British Ambassador – end it up with the murder of his wife Lady Annabel – who was accused of  espionage.

Lady Annabel Cumberpot is guilty of nothing, other than being the biological daughter of Jim Kilbey, Britain’s most famous spy. She is the victim of serendipity, but also of cover ups, thin evidence and total exaggeration.

What gives the book some heft is the author’s sense of humor when he describes the elitist lifestyle and dissect some of the most profound conspiracies theory you can  imagine.  As with all conspiracy theory he makes you wonder how much of the story may be actually true, or is he just putting together enough or rather too many evidences to suggest how a life can be destroyed for no reason at all.  Let’s hope the current generation of spooks has learnt from past mistakes”

Con Coughlin –  about MI6 in ‘The Daily Telegraph.’

Excerpt

It turned out to be rather a somber meeting, and one which everyone would remember for many years to come. Sir Arthur had lost his disdainful expression and looked a little pasty that afternoon as certain suspicions were revealed.

The ambassador moved from side to side as if in deep thought, finally exploding and attacking the table with his fist.

He shouted, ‘Are you saying that my wife is a spy—I mean a real one? What are you trying to say, Macintosh; spit it out man? I need to know the whole truth!’

‘No, not at this stage Sir, I am only relating to you what I know so far. I’m sure that there is a rational explanation, and I am sure that there has been some mistake, but stranger things have happened in the past and we need to be cautious. Maybe she is being blackmailed?’ Dirty Macintosh retreated into himself whilst the Ambassador spluttered and came out with unintelligible half sentences.

‘I mean… I can’t believe… It’s not possible… It’s unimaginable… There must be some mistake!’

The look of abandonment caused by her implied treachery seemed to annihilate his whole being.

Dirty Macintosh was not entirely surprised. ‘There , Sir Arthur, we don’t have the whole picture yet. It is all supposition at the moment; just a possibility, we don’t have any real proof. It is just an unexplained piece of evidence possibly involving your wife, that’s all!’

The Embassy spook was regrettably rather enjoying this moment, and amazed to see how quickly his pompous boss had disintegrated before his eyes. It was proof, however, that he was not only unreliable but had no objectivity either. Whether Macintosh would mention his views to his Masters in London at some point was another matter, but he would not do so for the time being!

 

About the Author

Patrick Brigham was born in Berkshire England to an old Reading family. After attending an English Public School and College, the author Patrick Brigham went into real estate.  After the economic crash of 1989 and a few other bitter experiences, in 1993 he decided to abandon London, and he moved to Sofia in Bulgaria.

In a new country with a different culture, and whilst trying hard to set up a home, a new life was definitely in store for him. A master of the comic vignette especially when consumed with disbelief, he set up the first English Language News Magazine in the Balkans called the Sofia Western News (1995-2000). As a journalist he witnessed the political and economical changes in this once hard core communist country.

Now Patrick Brigham resides in North of Greece, enjoy’s writing and his collection of classic cars.

Website * Blog * Goodreads

 

 

 

Today’s Monday Mystery feature is book #14 (WOW!) in the Flower Shop Mysteries by author Kate Collins.  Kate has even created a Facebook page that you can like and get all the latest and greatest on Abby and the rest of the gang.

 

 

Synopsis

It’s finally time to say, “I do!” As long as I can keep my mom
out of jail long enough to get her to the ceremony….

Someone’s Biting Mad.

Abby Knight’s wedding is in less than two weeks, and everything is going wrong. The cooler in her flower shop is leaking, her neck has swollen to unnatural proportions, her groom is acting distant, and she still doesn’t know where she’s actually getting married!

But things go from bad to worse when the director of her favorite charity, Protecting Animal Rights, is murdered, and Abby’s mother becomes the main suspect. Abby’s wedding worries will have to wait until she—along with her fiance, Marco, and an adorable mutt named Seedy—can nose out who wanted the animal activist put to sleep. But they’ll have to sort through the long list of suspects quickly, or her mom may be tossed in the slammer before Abby tosses the bouquet….

 

Synopsis

Paris of 1755 is bloated with opportunity. That’s the way Jacques Casanova, an unredeemed adventurer with an ever-surging appetite for pleasure, needs it. But times, men, and gods are changing—and Jacques’ luck is fading. When he is thrust to the center of a profound mystery, he doesn’t care if vice or virtue leads him onward. “After all,” he declares, “a man who asks himself too many questions is an unhappy man.” But as Jacques’ challenges mount, what questions will he ask? What price must he pay to uncover a treasure of inestimable value?

Loosely based on Casanova’s life of intrigue, peril, and passion, Michaels’ The Secrets of Casanova will keep you burning the midnight oil.

About the Author

After Michaels received his BA in anthropology from the University of Texas at Austin, a chance experience thrust him into a career as a professional actor and fight director. To date he’s acted in fifty theater productions, more than forty television shows, and choreographed dozens of fights for stage and screen. In The Secrets of Casanova, Greg again proves his skill at telling a theatrical story. He lives with his wife, two sons, and Andy the hamster.

Website * Twitter * Facebook

Quite a while ago I posted about the first book, Liar, Liar,  by the three sisters that make up author K.J. Larsen.  Ummm, should I saw that was in 2010 and I’m just now getting around to the second book, Sticks and Stones?  No?  Well it is out there now.  I remember LOVING the first book and was quite honored when they quoted me on their website!  And of course they have the third book in the series out now too called Some Like it Hot.  I have that book to read too.  I really need to catch up on some reading don’t I?!

I just saw that the first book is the bargain price of $0.99 on Amazon!  So if you have a Kindle get your copy now and get addicted to this series!

 

Synopsis

What does a woman do when she discovers her husband is an incurable cheater? If she’s Cat DeLuca she launches the Pants On Fire Detective Agency. Now Cat does what two years of unholy matrimony taught her. She catches cheaters.When a client (Cleo Jones) shoots her cheating husband’s bum full of buckshot, he disappears, taking her money, dog, and sister with him. Private Investigator Cat DeLuca promises to return the dog and money if her client stops shooting at Walter. Cleo agrees. The detective finds the dog and a mysterious bag chuck-full of cash. And then she finds Walter. His very dead body is still warm. The case is a slam dunk for the cops who arrest Cleo for the murder of her husband. She had motive and opportunity and a dozen witnesses heard her scream bloody murder. One made a video. Cat DeLuca is determined to prove her client’s innocence and it’s not an easy sell. Walter was an unsavory character with enemies. To find his killer, Cat will have to sift through the ones who didn’t pull the trigger. Her investigation leads to four players with secrets: a childhood friend, a gambler, a construction tycoon, and a legendary Chicago designer. When forensic evidence suggests the detective knows more about the murder than she’s telling, Cat faces the certain loss of her agency.  Cat DeLuca is smart and charming. She’s an unlikely heroine and her partner, a beagle named Inga, is quite likely to eat the evidence.

About the Author(s)

Two sisters living in the greater Seattle area and one sister from Chicago teamed up to write Liar, Liar. This debut mystery novel introduces Cat DeLuca and her Pants On Fire Detective Agency. Published by Poisoned Pen Press, Liar, Liar has received rave reviews and two inquiries for movie rights.

Writing a novel together was second nature for the three sisters who created their own Nancy Drew mysteries as kids. “We live very different lives,” Kari says. “What brings us together is a voracious love of mystery, a wicked sense of humor, and the thrill of victory.”

Sisters Kari, Julianne, and Kristen write under the pen name, K.J. Larsen.

Website * Facebook * Goodreads * Twitter

I’m a little late with today’s Mystery Monday post but I think I can still get it in under the wire (before it becomes Tuesday!).  Today I’d like to highlight author Patricia Fry.  She has written some cozy mysteries that include felines…now while Gracie will bark at cats and April will chase them, I think these cats are safe from these “ferocious” dogs!  I decided to check out Patricia’s website and WOW she is one smart cookie!  She offers services for other writers and her blog has some interesting content.  She has written several books on publishing and now she has written two cozies (with more to come).  Look for reviews in the coming months of these books.

 

Catnapped is the first in the series

When Savannah Jordan agrees to help her aunt while she recovers from a broken foot, she doesn’t expect to walk into a mystery, become part of a not-quite-legal surveillance team, be kidnapped by a deranged stranger and meet a steaming hot veterinarian. Beloved neighborhood cats are missing—the community can only guess at their fate—and Aunt Margaret’s life is being threatened. Is it because she has a clue to the missing cats or is it something more sinister?

 

 

Cat-Eye Witness is the second book in the series

Savannah and Aunt Margaret open the old Forster home to the Hammond Cat Alliance for a fundraiser to help rehabilitate the abused horses rescued months earlier from the catnappers. Before the afternoon is over, the collected funds go missing and someone is murdered in an upstairs bedroom.
Suspicion surrounds Iris, a local waitress and Savannah’s new best friend. The only witness to the murder is Rags, Savannah’s cat. With the assistance of a cat psychic and Rags’s good friend, Charlotte (the young girl with Downs), the cat helps to “paw” the killer…but not before an attempt is made on Rags’s life. The case is solved only after Rags comes face-to-face with the killer for the second time.
Detective Craig Sledge is new to this book, as is Damon, Iris’s errant son. Sledge finds this to be one of the muddiest cases he has ever worked, with inconsistent clues and no apparent motive. He’s constantly surprised, perplexed and impressed by the cat’s uncanny ability to come up with clues he has missed. His fascination with the attractive Iris Clampton also mystifies the detective.
In this story, one of the rescued horses goes into labor and there’s a night of high drama at the ole corral as veterinarians Savannah and Michael work to save the foal. This experience renews Savannah’s deep interest in horses and riding, which ultimately serves to help her bond with a very important surprise character who finds his way into her life and Michael’s just as they prepare to say their wedding vows.

While Rags is the animal star, he isn’t the only animal featured in this story. Layla is back in all of her tangerine beauty. And Rags makes friends with Buffy, a perky almost Himalayan and the inseparable duo, Walter, an all black cat and his sidekick, Lexie, a charming afghan mix. Savannah’s new ride, Peaches, also debuts in this story. An incident with this mare adds another dimension to Savannah’s and Michael’s relationship. Can he hold her with open arms?

 

Synopsis

In Small Town Trouble, the first in my mystery series, you get acquainted with Kim Claypoole’s irreverent ways of dealing with the peculiar characters and events that seem to follow her around. Claypoole’s misadventures begin as she leaves her home in the Smoky Mountains to help save her kooky mother Evelyn’s from financial disaster. Setting off to assist Evelyn, AKA “The Other Scarlett O’Hara,” with her newest personal crisis, Claypoole leaves her Gatlinburg doublewide and the Little Pigeon, the restaurant that she owns with her partner and sometimes best friend Mad Ted Weber as well as a steamy love affair with TV diva Nancy Merit.

Claypoole’s savior complex leads to more trouble when she bumps into an old flame in her hometown who asks for help clearing her hapless brother of a recent murder charge. In true Claypoole fashion, she gets more than she bargained for when she gets dragged into a complicated quest to find the true killer that involves topless dancers, small-town cops, a stream of backwater character and even a meeting with the Grim Reaper. We’re never sure if Claypoole can muddle her way through the murky depths of this bizarre murder mystery before it’s too late. With biting humor and wit, Small Town Trouble will leave you guessing what’s around the next corner in the quirky world of Kim Claypoole and looking forward to her next adventure.

About Jean Erhardt

I was raised in the small rural town of Amelia, Ohio, about twenty five miles out of Cincinnati.

I wrote my first mystery story when I was in fourth grade. It was about a kid a lot like me who heard strange noises coming from the attic and became convinced that the attic was haunted. Eventually, the mystery was solved when she investigated and found a squirrel eating nuts in a dark corner. It wasn’t a terribly exciting conclusion, but my teacher gave me an A anyway.

As a teenager I worked at a lot of different jobs. I worked at a gift shop in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, which is a frequent locale in my books. I was a swimming instructor and a lifeguard where my primary goal was to never get wet. I did a stint in a stuffed animal gift shop at the Kings Island amusement park where I actually sort of met the Partridge Family when they shot an episode there. After graduating from high school, I went on to attend Maryville College in Maryville, Tennessee, a stone’s throw from the Great Smoky Mountains.

In high school and college I played basketball and I graduated from Maryville College with a degree in Phys Ed. I went on to teach at Amelia Junior High, the same junior high that I had attended. There was something a little weird about passing by my old school locker every day when I walked down the hall as a teacher. Plus, some of the teachers I’d had back when I was in junior high were still working when I started to teach. Some of them had been none too fond of me as a student and I don’t think they were much fonder of me as a teacher! I coached the girls’ basketball and volleyball teams which was the best part of my job.

In my late 20’s I moved to the West Coast to get a broader perspective on life or something like that. I ended up working in retail security, or loss prevention, as it is now known, at an upscale Northwest retailer. I kept getting promoted and with each promotion, the job became less and less fun. It was a lot more fun catching shoplifters than sitting in endless meetings and crunching budgets. After ten years of that, I quit to try my hand at some serious writing. I wrote two books of fiction (not mysteries), Benny’s World and Kippo’s World, as well as a book of not-especially-reverent poetry called A Girl’s Guide to God and numerous short stories, articles and poems which have appeared in The Sonora Review, The Quarterly, Word of Mouth, Blue Stocking and 8-Track Mind.

After that, it was time to go back to work. I got my private investigator’s license and hung out my shingle. At first, I took a lot of the cheaters cases. It seemed to me that if a guy thought his woman was cheating, he was usually wrong. On the other hand, if a woman thought her guy was cheating, she was almost always right. Eventually, I moved on to take mostly criminal defense investigation work which often involved trying to figure out what the client did and didn’t do and then minimize the damage of what they usually did do. There were so many crazy ways that people could get themselves in trouble. In one case, the attorney I was working for represented a wife who had gotten so enraged about all of the time and affection her husband lavished on his pet iguana that she shot the poor iguana and killed it. The husband was furious and wanted the district attorney to press charges. The wife was eventually charged with reckless endangerment and took a pretty sweet deal because even the DA felt sorry for the fact that she was married to such a schmuck.

It was an interesting ten years. Somewhere in this time period I began to write the Kim Claypoole Mystery Series, which was a great distraction and a lot of fun. I liked the idea of having many of the same characters appear in each book. So here I am now, working on the fifth book in the series. I hope you’ll come along for the adventures of Kim Claypoole.

Website * Author Facebook Page * Book Facebook page

 

 

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

Has a world altering invention become temptation for murder?

A vicious killer, an improbable story, and a shattering scientific discovery, mingle to create a cocktail of deceptive intrigue.

A bright young woman’s death has been framed to look like an act of rage during a call-girl rendezvous. A tired, disillusioned cop, her only hope of redemption. Layer upon layer unfold to reveal a conniving conspiracy of global proportions; a conjuring of convoluted wicked twists.

Stacey Cornish has been murdered, and her killer has done very little to hide his identity. When his body washes up on the bank of a local river, Detective Frankie Harlow is unconvinced that the man committed suicide. However, when his family come under-fire in a series of vicious attacks aimed at dissuading further interest, Frankie knows that there is more to the murder than first meets the eye. Stacey was a biochemist working on a cure for cancer, perhaps her death had something to do with her research rather than the frame-of-facts posed by the killers.

Bleeding Shame is a compelling story that will grab you at the start, pull you along at a breathtaking pace, and shock you senseless with the questions it poses, and the answers it finds. Heart-wrenching, scary and sometimes humorous, it never fails to impress.

Buy the book for the bargain price of $0.99

Smashwords * Amazon

Have you heard of author Jana DeLeon?  She writes a several fun series and today I’m bringing you book one in the Miss Fortune series….AND to celebrate the release of the third book (Swamp Sniper), Louisiana Longshot is being offered for $0.99 on Amazon , iTunes and Barnes and Noble and probably other places too!

 

 

Synopsis

It was a hell of a longshot…

CIA Assassin Fortune Redding is about to undertake her most difficult mission ever–in Sinful, Louisiana.

With a leak at the CIA and a price on her head by one of the world’s largest arms dealers, Fortune has to go off grid, but she never expected to be this far out of her element. Posing as a former beauty queen turned librarian in a small, bayou town seems worse than death to Fortune, but she’s determined to fly below the radar until her boss finds the leak and puts the arms dealer out of play.

Unfortunately, she hasn’t even unpacked a suitcase before her newly-inherited dog digs up a human bone in her backyard. Thrust into the middle of a bayou murder mystery, Fortune teams up with a couple of seemingly-sweet old ladies whose looks completely belie their hold on the little town. To top things off, the handsome local deputy is asking her too many questions. If she’s not careful, this investigation may blow her cover and get her killed.

Armed with her considerable skills and a group of old ladies referred to by locals as The Geritol Mafia, Fortune has no choice but to solve the murder before it’s too late.

 

Excerpt – from Jana DeLeon’s website

I stepped off the Learjet at the private airfield just before dawn. I’d been on the plane exactly seventeen hours, twenty-six minutes and fourteen seconds, wearing the same eight-hundred-dollar dress I’d worn when I killed a man twenty-five hours earlier. One of my shoes hadn’t made it out of the desert, and I clutched what remained of the other shoe in my right hand and my nine millimeter in the left. Apparently, eight-hundred-dollar dresses didn’t come with pockets or holsters, and I didn’t have the kind of cleavage that made a viable hiding place.

A black Cadillac DTS with limo-tinted windows waited at the end of the runway, so I took a deep breath and headed for the car, steeling myself for the ass-chewing I knew was coming. But when I opened the door and slid into the passenger’s seat, the angry, balding man I’d expected to see was nowhere in sight. Instead, a slightly overweight, fiftyish, African-American woman frowned at me, shaking her head.

“Girl, you are in one heap of trouble,” said the driver, Hadley Reynolds, CIA executive assistant extraordinaire.

“Did he have a heart attack when he heard?” I asked, wondering why the director had sent Hadley instead of coming himself. “I figured he’d be here to run me over with the car.”

“He had a moment there during that phone call when I wondered. His face turned so red, I thought he was going to pop, but then he rushed out yelling at me to pick you up and take you to meet him as soon as you arrived.”

I sighed, my fleeting thoughts of a real meal and decent clothes slipping from my mind. Not only had the plane been stocked with healthy food, it hadn’t contained an ounce of alcohol. “I guess picking up a burger and six-pack on the way is out of the question?”

“It’s six a.m.”

“Not in the Middle East,” I pointed out.

“This is Washington, D.C., not some giant sandbox. Besides, you’re meeting at a café. You can have all the fat and carbs you want.” Hadley looked down at her own plump figure then over at me and frowned. “You know, I rarely ask for anything although I do a lot of favors—and God knows, I’m never going to fit in one of those size-four dresses they put you in—but why can’t you be kind to the shoes?”

I looked down at what was remaining of the Prada shoes and felt a bit guilty. When I’d opened the box containing the shoes at CIA headquarters, I thought Hadley was going to pass out. She’d stared at them as if they were magical. My reaction hadn’t been exactly the same. “I’m sorry.”

Hadley raised one eyebrow.

“I swear. I’m sorry. That entire situation got a little out of hand. I didn’t plan on ruining the shoes.”

Hadley sighed and patted my leg, like she’d done since I was a little girl. “Honey, I know you didn’t, but you keep having these situations. I’m afraid that one day I’m going to be picking you up in a box.”

“It’s my job.”

“The risks you take are not your job and you know it.” She paused for a couple of seconds. “You don’t have anything to prove…not to him or anyone else.”

I just nodded and looked out the window, not wanting to get into a discussion about my late father, the “him” in her statement. Even though he died when I was fifteen, I could still see him frowning at me and shaking his head. Unfortunately, I couldn’t blame him. Super CIA agent Dwight Redding had never made a mistake, never blown his cover, and never killed someone who wasn’t on the hit list.

Dwight Redding had been perfect. The golden boy at the CIA.

Changing mental channels, I focused on the current situation. “Why a café?”

“The director didn’t say.”

I studied Hadley’s expression, but she was telling the truth, which worried me even more. If Director Morrow wanted to meet with me somewhere other than CIA headquarters that could mean only one thing—he was letting me go.

I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to prepare my defense argument. Best to hit him with it first, before he could pull the trigger—play to his sympathies. Yeah, that was it. If, of course, I could figure out exactly what his sympathies were before we got to the café. Eight years of working for him hadn’t provided a single clue.

Hadley made a sudden turn and pulled up in front of a dingy storefront with the day’s special painted right on the grimy window. “You sure he’s not going to kill me?” I asked, giving the neighborhood a quick once-over. It looked like the kind of place where no one would blink over the sound of gunshots.

Hadley shook her head. “If the director doesn’t kill you, the food in there probably will.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I climbed out of the car, leaving the broken shoe behind, and headed into the café.

I spotted Director Morrow and another agent, Ben Harrison, in a booth at the back of the single room. Otherwise, it was completely empty. Morrow frowned as soon as he saw me walk in. As I got closer, he noticed my bare feet and downed his entire glass of water. I glanced over at Harrison, trying to get a read on Morrow’s state of mind, but he gave me an imperceptible shake of his head. Not good. Time for defense mode.

“I had to kill him,” I said as Harrison rose and allowed me to slide into the booth across from Morrow. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Harrison made a choking sound, sat down next to me and had a fake coughing fit into his napkin.

“Your personnel file,” Morrow said, “is full of those ‘no choice’ situations. Your hit count makes Attila the Hun look like a pacifist.”

“But he was going to sell that girl to the sheikh. She was only twelve years old and -”

“I don’t care if he had Siamese twins with puppies. You always maintain cover.” He held up two fingers. “Two years worth of work blown in less than a minute. It’s a new record, Redding.”

“I can still salvage it. Just put me back in.”

“How do you propose I do that? You were supposed to be the distributor’s new eye-candy. All you had to do was deliver the money, collect the drugs, and leave. But no, you had to kill the brother of the boss…an arms dealer who shot his wife for walking in front of the television during American Idol. Do you really think he’s going to give you a pass on killing his only sibling?”

“Not to mention,” Harrison added, “that most hoochies don’t go around killing people with their shoes. He’s probably figured out you’re not some ditzy gold digger.”

I glared at Harrison, who only seemed to have diarrhea of the mouth when it involved me. “There wasn’t any place on my body I could hide a gun—not with that sleazy dress I had to wear. And that shoe had a spike on it. What the hell else is it good for?”

“Jesus, Redding.” Harrison laughed. “Haven’t you seen a movie, a magazine ad…another woman in public? Stilettos are common among people with estrogen.”

“Which explains why you know what they are, and I don’t. Why don’t you play the girl on the next mission? You’re obviously better suited.”

“There is no next mission,” Morrow said, cutting off the argument altogether.

I whipped around to face the director. “You’re firing me? You can’t do that.”

“I could do that if I wanted to, but that’s not the problem. We got news from Intel this morning. Your face has been distributed to every drug and arms dealer that does business with Ahmad’s organization. He’s offering one million to anyone who brings your body to him. Ten million if someone brings you in alive.”

“Jesus,” Harrison said, all antagonism gone.

I felt the blood start to drain from my face, and mentally tried to force it back up.  “So? It’s not the first time an agent has had a price on their head,” I said, hoping my voice sounded stronger than I felt.

Morrow shook his head. “We’ve never had a case this bad. Seeing you dead has become the personal agenda of one of the biggest arms dealers of the decade. I have no choice but to make you disappear.”

“No way am I going into witness protection. They’ll stick me in some bank teller job in Idaho.”

“I agree that witness protection is out, but not because I care what job you’d be asked to perform.” Morrow leaned across the table, his expression a combination of serious, concerned, and just a hint of fear. It was the fear part that made my breath catch in my throat.

“There’s a leak,” Morrow said, his voice low. “I know it’s coming from inside the CIA, but have no idea how high up it goes.”

I gasped, my mind trying to grasp what he’d said. It wasn’t possible. A traitor in the agency?

“No way!” Harrison jumped up from the booth and paced in front of it. “I don’t believe it.”

Morrow sighed. “I didn’t want to believe it, either, but the reality is, someone put Ahmad’s people onto Redding before she ever set foot on that boat. That whole scene with the girl was intentional—trying to force Redding to blow her cover so they could be certain. They knew she didn’t have a gun, but apparently didn’t factor in how dangerous she was in high heels.”

“Shit,” Harrison said and slumped back down in the booth.

Morrow looked at Harrison then back at me. “Both of you know that information about the mission could only have come from our office. According to Intel, Redding wasn’t supposed to make it off that boat at all, much less alive. And that whole shoe incident upped the stakes astronomically.”

“She can have plastic surgery,” Harrison said. “It’s done all the time, right?”

“No way!” I argued.

Morrow held up a hand to stop the exchange. “You’ve been watching too many Hollywood movies. Plastic surgery can’t change her height or her bone structure, not enough, anyway. Ahmad’s security equipment is top of the line. A single photo taken by one of his cameras, and they’d have the bone structure pinned right back to Redding. We still have another operative inside. We can’t afford the risk.”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” I asked, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. “You’re telling me I’m not even safe at CIA headquarters? Where am I supposed to go?”

Morrow pushed a folder across the table. “I have an idea,” he said somewhat hesitantly. “It wouldn’t be official. Only you, me, and Harrison would know about it. That’s why I’m speaking to the two of you here. I can’t trust anyone else, and there’s the possibility that my office is bugged.”

Harrison glanced over at me and nodded. “Whatever you think, sir. I’ll do whatever you need.”

“All I need from you, Harrison, is to keep your mouth shut and remember this information in case something happens to me. For the obvious reasons, there will be no paper trail. Redding, on the other hand, is going to have to do a bit of maneuvering to pull this off.”

“Pull what off?”

“My niece just inherited a house from her maternal great-aunt. She’s scheduled to spend the summer at the place, going over the contents and getting it ready to sell. She’s never been there before, and my understanding is the aunt wasn’t the picture-hanging kind of gal, so there’s very little risk of anyone catching on.”

“Catching on to what, exactly?”

Morrow blew out a breath. “I want to send my niece to Europe for the summer, and I want you to go to Louisiana and pretend to be her. It’s the perfect cover. No one will be looking for you there, and no one in the town has ever met my niece. They just know she’ll be arriving sometime this summer to settle things.”

“Louisiana…you mean swamps and alligators and hicks?”

“I mean a small town with lovely people and a slower pace. Just until we’ve removed Ahmad. The hit on you is personal. Without Ahmad in charge, the hit will likely go away.”

My mind began to whirl again. “But that could be weeks…months. You can’t expect me to live in the middle of a swamp for that long. What in the world would I do? They probably don’t even have cable television. Is there electricity? Oh my God, isn’t that where they filmed Deliverance?”

Morrow shot me a dirty look. “You’ve spent days crawling through the desert with only a rifle and a bottle of water. Don’t tell me a couple of blue-haired old ladies and some mosquitoes are going to be the death of you. This is a vacation compared to your norm.”

He pointed to the folder. “This is some background information I put together on my niece. Her aunt probably talked about her, so the townspeople will be looking for someone meeting that description.”

“What about the Internet?” Harrison asked. “Most people are all over it.”

Morrow shook his head. “She had a stalker situation when she was a teen that scared her senseless. She’s been diligent about keeping herself off the Net. I’ve already checked and it’s clean.”

Morrow looked at me. “I need you to be ready to leave by tomorrow.”

I reached for the folder, making note of the fact that Morrow was looking off at the wall behind me rather than looking me in the eye. Not good. A feeling of dread washed over me as I opened the folder and started to read.

Sandy-Sue Morrow. Good God, the name alone stopped me cold.

I kept reading and felt the blood drain from my face. Finally, I looked up. “I can’t do this.”

Harrison, sensing something was seriously screwed, looked from Morrow to me, waiting for the dam to break. “You’re a professional,” Harrison said. “You’re a genius at undercover work—well, sorta.”

“This,” I said and shook the file, “is not undercover. This would require a reincarnation.”

“Now, Redding,” Morrow began.

“She’s a librarian,” I interrupted. “The last thing I read was an article on making a silencer out of a Q-tip, unless you count autopsy reports.”

“You’re going to inventory a house, not run a library” Morrow pointed out. “No one’s likely to ask you for reading recommendations.”

“She knits.”

“So you’ll learn, just in case. It wouldn’t hurt you to have a hobby besides racking up bodies.”

Harrison shook his head. “I don’t know, sir. I’ve seen those knitting needles. Do you really think you should turn Redding loose on an unsuspecting population and give her a weapon? Remember that incident in Egypt with the #No. 2 pencil?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped. “That was a Pentel, not a #No. 2.”

Morrow cleared his throat. “I’m sure Redding will find a way to contain herself.”

I tossed the folder back across the table. “She was a beauty queen!”

“Holy shit.” Harrison dissolved into a fit of laughter. “No way is Redding pulling that one off. Look at her. Her hair’s shorter than mine.”

“My hair is convenient for my job,” I said, running a hand over inch-long, blond locks that had been trapped under a hot wig the day before, “and besides, I thought short hair was fashionable.”

“Short, yes,” Harrison said, “but you’re sporting the Britney Spears Nervous Breakdown style. Not a hit among men or the beauty pageant circuit.”

I threw up my hands. “This…this person has single-handedly set the women’s movement back ten years. Knitting? Librarian? Beauty queen? Please tell me I can kill her next.”

Morrow rose from the booth and glared down at me. “That will be enough. My niece is a lovely woman. And until further notice, you will become that lovely woman, or I will shoot you myself.”

“You could try,” I mumbled.

“What?”

I bit the inside of my lip and clenched my hands. “No problem.”

“Good. Your afternoon is booked. You’re getting acrylic nails, a pedicure, hair extensions, and learning how to apply makeup and wear high heels without killing someone.”  He gave me a broad smile then walked out the door.

Harrison gave me a sideways glance and inched away from me in the booth. His hand hovered over his weapon as he made a break for the door behind Morrow.

Fake hair? Fake nails? Someone touching my feet? Oh, God, they were going to paint my toenails pink, weren’t they?

I groaned and placed my head on the table, covering it with my arms. This was going to be even harder than the time I killed that drug lord with a Tic Tac.

And not nearly as satisfying.

 

This week I bring you books 1 and 2 of the Gourmet De-Lite series by author Peg Cochran.  The first book is Allergic to Death and the second book is Steamed to Death.  Loved both of them….but once again, food was involved but this time more health conscious!  I enjoyed both books and give them both 4 paws!

 

 

Synopsis:

Preparing calorie-conscious meals for the dieters of Woodstone, Connecticut, Gigi Fitzgerald knows a cheater when she sees one. And when murder is on the menu, she’s ready to get the skinny on whodunit…

Business is looking up for Gigi’s Gourmet De-Lite, thanks to her newest client, restaurant reviewer Martha Bernhardt. Martha has the clout to put Gigi’s personal meal plans on everyone’s lips. But instead of dropping a few pounds, Martha drops dead from a severe peanut allergy…right after eating one of Gigi’s signature dishes.

When the distractingly debonair Detective Mertz identifies traces of peanut oil in Martha’s last meal, Gigi suddenly finds her diet catering business on the chopping block. Now she’ll have to track down who tampered with her recipe before her own goose is cooked.

 

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Synopsis:

Gourmet health food caterer Gigi Fitzgerald is used to helping dieters drop a dress size. But when her clients start dropping dead, she’s ready to switch her chef’s hat for a detective’s cap and track down a killer. . .

Aging soap star Felicity Davenport is looking to revamp her image, and she’s using Gigi’s Gourmet De-Lite to help her shed a few of those unwanted pounds. Having such a high-profile client is definitely good for business, but when Felicity is found murdered in her sauna, things start getting too hot for Gigi to handle.

The list of suspects is a mile long, and Gigi’s best friend, Sienna, is at the top. Refusing to let her friend get blamed for a crime she didn’t commit, Gigi is determined to hunt down the real killer. But, as the case reaches a boiling point, Gigi will have to be careful or she could be the next one getting burned.

 

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