About the Book
James Crosby, the charismatic leader of the Japaprajnas, is found dead one late afternoon, his body draped over an iron fence in the courtyard of the nineteenth-century house where he and several cult members work and live. Although they initially presumed the fall was an accident, police investigators quickly discover that James received a lethal dose of a drug before he was pushed from his office balcony.
The next day the police discover a syringe and a substantial amount of the drug which killed James in Stacey Robert’s bedroom. The nineteen-year-old cult member is brought in for questioning, which leads to her arrest. Emma, who had represented Stacey when she was a sixteen-year-old runaway, agrees to take the case. Convinced that she is innocent, Emma begins an investigation into the cult and its members. Emma’s questions uncover dangerous secrets, illicit activities, and the exploitation of innocent victims. Emma’s suspicions lead her to the killer’s trail and the case’s final resolution.
“The lies stack up as fast as bodies in this latest
thriller from C. L. Tolbert. Law professor Emma Thornton returns as the
tenacious and fearless defender of New Orleans’ downtrodden. An enthralling
mystery, Sanctuary explores the seedy underbelly of the Big Easy.” - Bruce
Robert Coffin, award-winning author of the Detective Byron Mysteries.
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Excerpt
Monday, October 14, 1996
James Crosby licked his index finger and thumb and pinched
the flame of the candle until it was out. His mother had taught him how to snuff
out a candle years ago, assuring him that the flame wouldn’t burn him,
encouraging him to follow her example. She could be charming when she wanted,
but when he burned his fingers that day, she laughed. He was only five.
James stood at the altar for a moment, watching the glowing
ember of incense resting on its stand, then reached into his pocket and placed
a small mirror on the smooth wooden surface. He poured a line of white powder
on the mirror, plucked a razor from his wallet, and began to cut the powder
into smaller lines. Bending over the altar, he sniffed loudly, then shook his
head, savoring the feeling. For a moment, he saw a kaleidoscope of color. He
turned around, staggering, gripping the altar, and gazed out over the room.
James was alone that afternoon, although he was expecting
the plumber to show up at any moment. He preferred solitude, especially since
he spent all week listening to people talk about their problems. Cecelia, his
wife, had gone grocery shopping, and at his request, Mira, his assistant and
the mother of his second child, was visiting their French Quarter shop to check
on some of the sales. The spa services, offered in the back of the temple, were
closed on Monday, as were all lessons, sessions, and chanting. The temple was
open for meditation only, but no one was there.
Mondays were slow in New Orleans. Galleries, hairdressers,
spas, theaters, and many of the restaurants in the city were also closed.
Mondays seemed like a holiday to him. A day he could do what he wanted. It was his
favorite day of the week.
James pulled back the velvet drapes of the altar room and
stepped into the hallway. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs. The air was
clearer there, the incense not nearly as thick. He tried to clear his head with
each breath, but the drug had kicked in. He turned, catching his reflection in
the mirror at the foot of the stairs. He didn’t like what he saw.
He turned, stumbling, to make his way to the second-floor
offices and apartments, and noticed there were still some tools the plumbers
had left behind in the hallway from the work they did last week. They hadn’t
been paid yet and were probably expecting something soon. He’d have to remind
Mira to send them a check.
The floorboards creaked from the weight of his steps, and he
nearly groaned out loud at the thought of all the work that had to be done. The
repairs he was having made hadn’t been adequate even though workers were making
their way around the place, replacing rotten boards and plumbing lines. He
swept his hand along the mahogany banister. It was still a fine place, despite
all the problems.
When he reached the second floor, he grabbed the knob to his
office door to steady himself, then paused. He thought he’d heard steps. The
front door of the house was always open for meditation, although most people
knocked when temple wasn’t in session. Except for the plumber. He often walked
in unannounced.
James peered down the hallway toward the stairs and, seeing
no one, stepped into his office. To his surprise, a window was wide open. He
glanced around the empty room, confused. He hadn’t opened a window in his
office in more than a year. Even though it was October, it was nearly ninety
degrees outside, so the air conditioner was still on. No one he knew would open
a window in such heat.
Dizzy, he staggered toward the window, steadying himself,
gripping the frame as he gazed out. Seeing no activity, he stepped, faltering,
onto the balcony, peering out over the yard and the garconniere fifteen feet
below. Then he leaned out farther still to see if the plumber’s truck was
parked in the front of the house.
He heard another step from behind and turned, wobbling, to
see who it was, surprised by a figure in black standing in front of him. Before
he knew what was happening, he felt a jab in the side of his neck, and the
person backed away. He grabbed his neck, immediately feeling drowsy. He
squinted at the blurred figure in the hoodie who had just attacked him, then
began swinging his fists. But his blows missed. He stumbled toward his assailant,
grabbing the sleeve of the person’s jacket and pulling it toward him. The
attacker pulled away from James’ grasp and spun him around, causing him to lose
his balance.
James began to lose consciousness. His vision dimmed, and
his legs grew numb. He felt a hand on his back pushing him toward the railing
of the balcony. Even though he wasn’t fully conscious, he knew he’d lost his
footing. Then he felt a hard shove and a rush of air as he plummeted headfirst
toward the courtyard below.
About the Author
Licensed in Mississippi, Louisiana, and Georgia, C.L. practiced law for thirty-five years before retiring to pursue writing. During her legal career she spent several years teaching at Loyola Law School in New Orleans, where she was the Director of the Homeless Clinic. She also has a Masters of Special Education, and taught in a public school prior to enrolling in law school.
C.L. has two children and three grandchildren, and lives in
Atlanta, Georgia with her husband and schnauzer.
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Thank you so much for this beautiful showcase featuring SANCTUARY! CL Tolbert
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DeleteEnjoyed the excerpt.
ReplyDeleteThank you! CL Tolbert
DeleteI like the cover. It sounds like a good book.
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