About the Book
A pretty mask hides a wealth of sins …
When her perennial screw up brother is accused of murdering a local podcaster during a Halloween party, former sheriff’s deputy Holly Daye plunges into the investigation and uncovers a decades old secret along with a killer who will do anything to keep the past buried, including putting Holly six feet under.
Come on down to Sanctuary Bay, South Carolina a small
Lowcountry town full of quirky Southerners running amok, an English Bulldog
that sniffs out a heap of trouble, and a snarky heroine that tries to keep the
crazy confined to the boundaries of Noble County.
~~ Amazon ~~
Excerpt
I opened my mouth to ask her a point-blank question when
Dewey burst through the back door.
“She thinks my tractor’s sex-hey, Holly, just the person I
wanted to see … ah!”
Dewey stumbled across the threshold and face-planted on the
kitchen floor. Mama rushed to his side, clucking like a hen, but I followed
more slowly. Regardless of how hard the stone tiles, he was feelin’ no pain.
Mama helped him to a sitting position and then gasped.
“Dewey Barker, are you inebriated?”
I snorted to stop my outright laughter. My mother’s naivety,
in particular when it came to my brother, never ceased to amuse me, well, when
it wasn’t getting on my last nerve.
“Me? ‘Course not …,” Dewey grabbed onto the counter and
hoisted himself to his feet. “Well, not over much anyway. Nah, now don’t fuss
Mama, it’s just a little beer …”
Dewey waved away our mother’s concerns and stumbled his way
over to the table. Dropping into the chair beside me, he leaned on one elbow
and gave me a Walleyed stare.
“Guess who killed Megan Hearn.”
Half of what Dewey said came out as one long, slurred word.
I hesitated to engage with him, but he sat up straight and repeated it.
“Go on, ask me who killed that woman.” He scowled and waved
his hand before I could reply. “Never mind, I’ll tell you who did it! Cricket
Morrison.”
He sat back, arms crossed over his chest and a triumphant
look on his face.
“Cricket Morrison?” I rolled my eyes. “Dewey, go to bed,
you’re drunk.”
“No I ain’t, well maybe just a little, but that don’t mean I
ain’t right, tell her Mama.”
Mama fretted over the coffee pot. “Well now, I can’t say as
I know her all that well but if you think so son …” She looked over her
shoulder and directed a pointed stare at me. “You should look into it, Holly
Marie.”
She would say that. I could count on one hand how many times
our mother did not take up for Dewey. I drew a deep breath and then took
another to insure I replied with a civil tone. “Mama, I am looking into the
murder, but I hardly see how Cricket Morrison could be responsible.” I scowled
at my drunken brother. “She wasn’t a guest, Dewey!”
His expression turned mulish. “Well I know that, but she
coulda done it just the same.” He tapped the table for emphasis. “She had
motive!”
Motive. Cricket Morrison was a thrice divorced
forty-something-year-old barfly that I strongly suspected had been the
anonymous poster of a personal ad looking for her lost panties a few months
back. Much head scratching and cogitation yielded no clear reason for her to
have killed Megan Hearn. I hesitated to even go down the road but …
“Dewey, she has no clear connection to-”
“Ha, see now that’s where yer wrong!” His smile was smug.
“Cricket works for Peachy Clean, don’t she? She does them big fancy houses out
on Osprey point and,” he frowned at me when I started to interrupt. “And she
also cleans offices, like fer Coastal Construction and Minton Equipment.“ He
sat back with a nod. “See? Motive. She did it.”
“Oh Dewey, that’s genius, isn’t that clever of your brother,
Holly?”
I closed my eyes, so I didn’t have to see the beatific smile
my mother was gracing Dewey with. In her eyes, all he needed was a halo. But
either I was lacking all good sense, or they were because I still didn’t see a
connection between Megan Hearn and Cricket Morrison.
Dewey huffed. “How can you not see what’s right in front of
yer face?” He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t I tell ya Cricket cleans fer J.T.
Minton’s companies? Huh? And didn’t I also tell ya she was there the day that
podcaster walked in and tried to get an interview with Minton only he refused
because, according to Cricket, Minton told Hearn she made mountains out of
molehills for ratings, so Minton had her thrown out.” He sat back. “There,
clear as day now, ain’t it?”
Clear as mud, more like. “Dewey, first, you left out the
part where Minton threw her out but even so, how is that relevant? He wasn’t at
the party!”
“Nah, but Dale Scruggs was. I’m goin’ to bed.” Dewey
struggled to his feet and wobbled his way to the door.
“Hold on,” I shook my head. “What on earth does Dale Scruggs
being at his own party have to do with J.T. Minton and Cricket Morrison?”
My brother turned and gave me an incredulous look. “Jeez
Holly, like with J.T. Minton, Megan was poking around asking about those gyms
Dale lost and …” he shrugged and waltzed out the door. “Dale was Cricket’s
second ex-husband.” The screen door slammed as he headed off to his apartment
over the garage.
My jaw dropped. Of all the convoluted … I turned and met
Mama’s gaze.
She quirked an eyebrow. “Close your mouth, Holly, you’ll draw flies.”
About the Author
*Sweet Tea & Live Oaks heavy with Spanish Moss.
*A warm breeze rustling the Spartina.
Now, add a cozy little murder & a dash of mayhem!
I live in the hauntingly beautiful Low Country area. My Cozy
Mysteries feature strong Southern female sleuths, a motley crew of locals, plot
twists, and a splash of romance all set amidst the splendor of the coastal
South.
interesting book
ReplyDeleteI liked this excerpt, the book sounds really good
ReplyDeleteI'd love to continue to read...
ReplyDelete