Tag Archive for: Evelyn David

Boy Meets Girl

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By Evelyn David

In Murder Off the Books, Mac Sullivan and Rachel Brenner meet cute. He suspects that her brother is a murderer, which may be a turn-on for some women, just not for Rachel. The scene is set for lots of banter and passive-aggressive flirting. Even the putative couple’ pets have a love-hate relationship. Whiskey, the Irish wolfhound, and Snickers, the butterball feline, snap, hiss, and snarl their way through the book, only to reach a detente (with Snickers on top of the refrigerator and Whiskey eating kitty kibble) at the end.

Making a love connection, in fiction or real life, ain’t easy.

An eHarmony poll reports that 19 percent of married couples surveyed met online. Seems a tad high, but on the other hand, I personally know four blissfully wedded couples who did make their first connection through one of the Internet dating sites. Once you’re out of school, it seems like the opportunity to meet eligible bachelors and bachelorettes is drastically reduced. This may just be a nervous mother talking, but I always figured any man my college daughter met on campus was safe; if she met him in a bar, then I was immediately into hyper-alert, “is this a serial killer,” mode. Okay, I agree that I’m not always completely or even partially sane about my kids’ safety.

But actually where are you going to meet potential suitors? You’re not supposed to date anyone from work (complications, maybe even lawsuits, if you break up). But if you’re spending 10 or more hours a day at your job – it doesn’t leave much time for socializing outside the office.

So if it’s not a bar or the workplace or the Internet, what’s the new scheme for Romeo and Juliet to find each other (and hopefully have a happier ending)?

We interrupt this regularly scheduled blog to bring BIG NEWS.

Two fun, quirky, clever mysteries for the price of one! Check out I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries, two short stories by Evelyn David now available on Kindle.

Hell on wheels or a psychic in a travel trailer?

Brianna Sullivan gave up her job finding missing luggage for the airlines in order to seek the freedom of the open road. Her first stop? The small town of Lottawatah, Oklahoma. Using her psychic abilities, Brianna takes on a multitude of jobs to earn gas money, help out the local police detective, and direct some troubled souls towards the light. Volume 1 of this series by Evelyn David contains two short stories – I Try Not To Drive Past Cemeteries and Dead But Not Buried in Lottawatah.

Download it today here

Now back to your regular programming.

Speed dating. It’s Nascar for the lovelorn. My son, under pressure from a friend who had recently had a nasty breakup, agreed to join him for this race to find a match. The basics of the evening were simple: 15 men, 15 women. One more criteria: everyone had to have a graduate degree. Interestingly, you didn’t have to be employed, just have a master’s degree or better, to sign-up for a love connection. The women were seated at individual tables, and the men moved from station to station, spending six minutes with each woman to discover if they had enough in common to warrant a second encounter. After the evening, you ranked the six individuals you’d like to see again, and if both parties indicated an interest, the organizers then provided the personal contact info.

My son, in one of his first encounters, asked a young woman what she did the previous weekend. “Slept,” she answered. He tried a different tack. “What do you like to do for fun?” Another simple answer: “Sleep.” Okay, he thought, not much to work with here.

I confess that I met my husband in high school, took him to my junior prom (not by covered wagon as my kids assume), and married right out of college. I’d make the same decision today – but if one of my kids wanted to get hitched right out of school, I’d think they were crazy. So much to see and do before settling down. Times have changed, indeed.

But the old story of “boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy wins girl back is timeless.” The only question is whether boy can be dazzled enough in six minutes to warrant a second look.

Stiletto Faithful – what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on (or heard about)?

Marian aka the Northern half of Evelyn David

Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com

Update – The Chisholm Trail Book Festival

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Evelyn David (i.e. Marian and I) attended two book festivals this month. I went to the one in Duncan, Oklahoma on September 18 and Marian went to Toms River, New Jersey on September 25th. These events were wonderful opportunities for both of us to connect with old and future readers of the Sullivan Investigation Mystery series. I’ll let her tell you about the New Jersey event in upcoming blogs.

I attended The Chisholm Trail Book Festival in Duncan. This was my first trip to Duncan and it was about a 3 1/2 hour drive from my home in Muskogee. I arrived about 4 pm on Friday, the 17th and checked into a hotel near the event location. The sponsors of the festival had invited all the authors to attend a dinner that evening at the Chisholm Trail Heritage Center. While waiting for dinner to be served, I avoided the sticky, 90 plus heat by touring the (fabulously air-conditioned) Heritage Center. The museum was a wonderful mix of prairie antiques and tv/movie memorabilia from iconic western films and series. One whole room was dedicated to Lonesome Dove, the book and tv miniseries. Large poster-sized stills from the mini-series covered the walls along with framed scripts and props. A flat screen television showed the movie in a continuous loop. I really wanted a Lonesome Dove coffee table book offered for sale in the gift store, but couldn’t justify the cost. (And believe me I tried!)

The dinner was traditional cowboy fare – barbequed brisket, beans, fried potatoes, slaw, and biscuits – served from a chuck wagon. Live music was provided as we ate on a covered portico. Most of the authors present were from Oklahoma and Texas, and I used the dinner hour to catch up with old friends and make some new ones. The majority of the authors attending were historical, biographical, or Christian writers. They were very kind to let a mystery writer sit among them.


The next morning I had an hour to set up my table. The sponsors of the event had arranged for teens from the local school to help authors unload their cars and cart the materials into the event center. I can’t tell you how impressed I was with this kindness. Four eighth-grade mystery fans helped me move boxes of books, framed poster, promo stuff, etc. from the parking lot to my assigned table. All of us had our hands full, so you can imagine how many trips it would have taken me to do it by myself.

A couple of hours after I settled in at my “crime scene”-themed table, I had to leave to present a workshop, “Clues to Writing a Mystery.” My audience was a mix of teens and adults, all interested in the nuts and bolts (or should I say knives and guns?) of writing mysteries. Marian, who had reviewed my handouts for typos, had warned me I had enough material for a two-day class. She was right, but I was happy knowing I wouldn’t run out of things to talk about.

While I was presenting the workshop, two of the young ladies who helped me earlier, manned my table, selling several books! I wish I had their help for all my events!

After lunch, which was sold conveniently right in the room where the book tables were located, I had a “mini-book-club” session. In other words, I read the opening scenes from Murder Off the Books. Reading aloud is not my favorite thing to do, but the audience was polite and clapped loudly when I finished a little early. They also asked lots of questions about publishers, agents, advances, and royalty payments. So maybe they weren’t so much into the plot and my oratory skills. Sigh. I didn’t mind though. I’m still new enough at this writing business to remember how confusing the publishing world was … uh is.

FFA guys (Future Farmers of America) showed up to help me pack up my table and load my car. They were great! In fact the whole festival was incredibly “pro-author.”

The 2011 Chisholm Trail Book Festival is already in the planning stages. For more information contact Lavon Strong at the Legacy Bank, 2100 N. Hwy. 81, Duncan, OK 73533.

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com/

Has this ever happened to you?

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The press is on fire about a new book. Your friends are falling all over themselves telling you that it’s a “must read.” So you dutifully pick up a copy and no matter how hard you try, you just don’t get it. You can barely get past the first ten pages, let alone finish the masterpiece. Then the second book in the series comes out, and the praise grows even louder. Year after year, the prolific author grinds out another story and somehow you can’t figure out what the buzz is all about.

I’ve got a pile of those mysteries on my nightstand. The ones that have captured the public’s affection – and left me scratching my head wondering how the author captured lightning in a bottle – and frustrated trying to figure out how I could do it too?

Now here’s the twist on that syndrome.

Sometimes, ten years after the initial tidal wave of public adoration has settled down, I’ll pick up a book by that same author whose prose left me snoring, and discover that actually I kind of like him, in fact, he’s pretty darn good. That’s what happened to me this weekend with Alexander McCall Smith.

I was wandering through the discount heaven, Home Goods, and found a copy of his tenth book, marked down to $2. Since it retails for $14 – I mean what could I do but buy it?

I liked it….I really liked it. And I immediately read the most recent book in the series and really liked it too. So now I’m starting the series from the beginning.

So what happened?

Did he become a better writer? Sure, to some extent, the more you write, the better your skills. But I don’t think that’s the answer.

Did I become a more sophisticated reader? I sure hope so, but that’s probably not the answer either.

OR, did watching the six-part series of the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency make the characters leap off the page when I finally started reading the books? Did I need the visual landscape to enjoy the virtual one?

Most mystery writers I know play the casting game. They fantasize about the actors who would be perfect as their lead character. Rhonda and I agree that James Garner, circa The Rockford Files of 35 years ago, would be the ideal Mac Sullivan. We can’t agree on who would be best to play Rachel Brenner. Bravo to the casting agent who found Jill Scott to play Precious Ramotswe in the mini-series of Mr. McCall Smith’s books. Here’s an article by the director, the late Anthony Minghella, on the process of finding the right Precious, and the filming of the mini-series.

Years ago, my husband and I consulted an educational psychologist about one of our son’s reading habits – or lack thereof. He was about to enter high school and rarely, if ever, read for pleasure, and frankly, was barely reading the assigned school books. She recommended patience and permitting him to “preview” a book through a movie, if one were available. I thought it was “cheating” to watch the movie instead of the book, but her point was he should do both. It might make it easier for him to get into a book if he had some visual cues to the story. Long story short, pun intended, the psychologist was absolutely right. First, he matured which helped immensely. But through time, movies, and his own curiosity, he discovered the magic of books. I think that’s what happened to me and Mr. McCall Smith’s Botswana books. The beauty of the miniseries allowed me to understand and enjoy the beauty of the author’s words.

So I ask, Stiletto Faithful, have you ever discovered a literary gem, one you had previously discarded? What made the difference?

Marian aka the Northern half of Evelyn David

Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
Murder Drops the Ball by Evelyn David, Spring 2011

The Chisholm Trail Book Festival

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This coming weekend I’ll be participating in the Chisholm Trail Book Festival in Duncan, Oklahoma. I’ll attend an author dinner on Friday night and then on Saturday I will present an hour-long workshop entitled “Clues to Writing a Mystery.” That afternoon, I’m doing a 20-minute reading from Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David.

Guess which part I’m the most nervous about? Yep, the reading aloud part.

I like hearing other people read short excerpts to me, but don’t enjoy the process myself. My mind tends to drift while I’m reading, wondering if anyone is listening, fearful if I’ll start coughing, worrying if I’ll butcher my own writing.

Teaching the workshop? Piece of cake! No, really. (Note to self – try to work in the title of the second Evelyn David book, Murder Takes the Cake.) I love talking about the process of writing, probably because it still seems like such a wonder to me. To start with a blank page and create people, places, and events that had only existed in my mind before, is such an emotional high. My plan is to cover the different types of mysteries: cozy, police procedural, romantic suspense, traditional, detective, etc. I’m also going to talk about plotting the mystery and creating characters.

Between now and Friday, I’ll be drafting some materials for the workshop and finding an excerpt from Murder Off the Books to read. I’m guessing about ten minutes of reading max and then leave the rest for discussion. Or maybe I’ll do a five-minute read, some discussion, then another short excerpt, then another round of questions to close it off.

I’ll have a 6-foot table to decorate. I feel a trip to Hobby Lobby in my immediate future. Wonder what I can come up with for a Murder Mystery theme?

If you’re near Duncan, Oklahoma on Saturday, stop by. I’ll put you to work manning my author table while I present my workshop.

Chisholm Trail Book Festival
September 18, 2010
10:00 am to 4:00 pm
Simmons Center
800 Chisholm Trail Parkway
Duncan, OK.

http:/​/​www.chisholmtrailbookfestival.com/​index.html

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David
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Interested in purchasing the mysteries I’ll be discussing?

New 2nd Edition Murder Off the Books trade paperback version available at The Digital Bookstore.

Need an E-Book version for your Apple iPad? Both books are available at the Apple iStore.
Murder Off the Books
Murder Takes the Cake

Murder Off the Books – Buy Kindle version of 2nd Edition

Murder Takes the Cake – Buy Kindle version of 2nd Edition

I Love Old Movies

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I’m a sucker for old movies. I don’t need Technicolor or over-the-top special effects to produce a four-hanky sob-fest. Thank goodness for Turner Classic Movies. Their movie vault is filled with black-and-white, sudsy films that make me turn to goo.

Recently I watched Journey for Margaret, a heart-warming World War II flick with Robert Young and Margaret O’Brien in her motion picture debut. Released in 1942, it was the early days of America’s involvement in the War, and the story centers on a hardened newspaper reporter’s efforts to bring two orphans to the States. When he is forced to choose only one, your heart breaks for the little boy he must leave behind.

I also watched an absolutely silly, inane , but ultimately very sweet movie, A Date with Judy, released in 1948 with Jane Powell and a very young, waist-no-bigger-than-a-wasp, Elizabeth Taylor. This was the post-war equivalent of Beverly Hills 90210, but with actors with actual talent. Amazing to think that Liz Taylor and Robert Stack get secondary billing because they’re not the “stars” of the film. But as ridiculous as the plot in this film is – and trust me, any film with Xavier Cugat, a Chihuahua, and Carmen Miranda as the B-storyline is dumb – nonetheless, I actually cared whether Judy and Oogie (Jane Powell and Scotty Beckett) reunite and whether Carol and Stephen (Taylor and Stack) can overcome his prejudice against family wealth.

It’s funny that I can wax rhapsodic about these two movies, which is in stark contrast to the movie reviews I’ve been hearing from Rhonda, the Southern half of Evelyn David. She recently spent hard-earned bucks on two new blockbusters, and walked away disappointed in both. It wasn’t the acting. Rhonda assures me that George Clooney is still wonderful eye candy and Angelina Jolie has all the right stuff to be a convincing double (triple?) agent.

But at the end of both movies, she didn’t care what happened to George or Angelina’s characters. Without offering too much of a spoiler for either film, let’s just say that there was no Disney happy ending for anybody – and Rhonda wasn’t invested enough to be concerned.

Whether it’s a 1940s teen movie, a 2010 blockbuster, or the dog-eared copies of old favorite mysteries and books we’ve read and re-read, it always comes down to character. Does the audience identify with the fictitious people of screen or page? If not, then whether or not the protagonist lives to see another day or dies a noble death is quickly discarded into the “who cares” pile. All the fantastic car crashes and outrageous stunts can’t save a movie where you barely remember the main character’s name after the first fifteen minutes.

Watching these films, re-reading old favorite mysteries where I remember whodunnit on the first page and it doesn’t minimize the pleasure one iota, makes me take my own writing apart, sentence-by-sentence. I want my readers to care about Mac Sullivan, Rachel Brenner, most especially about Whiskey the Dog. I want readers to wonder if Mac can overcome 50+ years of commitment-phobia; I want to make sure that readers empathize with newly-divorced Rachel as she awkwardly re-enters the social scene; while at the same time, I want to baffle and surprise the reader with a mystery that is sophisticated and smart. Tall order, indeed.

But isn’t that what I signed up for when I listed mystery writer on my resume?

Stiletto Faithful, please share with me your favorite movie and why it has such lasting appeal.

Marian aka the Northern half of Evelyn David

Haven’t We Done This Before?

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Jennifer Aniston, 41, with no serious partner in sight, said that “Women are realizing more and more that you don’t have to settle, they don’t have to fiddle with a man to have that child. They are realizing if it’s that time in their life and they want this part they can do it with or without that [a male partner].”

Bill O’Reilly, Fox News favorite rabble-rouser, of course, scenting big ratings by taking on a popular actress, worked himself into a lather and boldly declared, “She’s throwing a message out to 12-year-olds and 13-year-olds that, ‘Hey you don’t need a guy. You don’t need a dad.’ That is destructive to our society.”

We’ve got the worst economy in decades, we’re in two wars, and global warming may melt the ice cap and flood downtown Cincinnati – but the glib comment of an actress hawking her newest film, a romantic comedy where she ends up with the father of her baby – yeah, that’s what is destroying our society.

Of course, we’ve been to this rodeo before. Back in 1992, Vice President Dan Quayle picked a fight with fictional news reporter Murphy Brown, who was pregnant and unmarried. “[I]t doesn’t help matters when primetime TV has Murphy Brown — a character who supposedly epitomizes today’s intelligent, highly paid, professional woman — mocking the importance of fathers, by bearing a child alone, and calling it just another ‘lifestyle choice.’”

I thankfully am married to the best father on earth. We take our parenting seriously, and have never been worried about gender roles in how we parent. Similarly, I was blessed to have been raised by the best father on earth who thought I was the bees knees (his words, not mine), and from whom I learned what was important in picking a mate. So I’m not minimizing for a millisecond that Dads play a vital role in raising healthy, strong, independent children.

But when I think of all those children languishing in foster care, in limbo in orphanages around the world, and I think of all those adults who long to be parents – then no, Mr. Reilly, I’m not worried if a single adult male or female, or a gay couple, choose to open their hearts and homes to children who need at the minimum one caring parent, if not two. And I’m not even going to insist that those outside of traditional marriages must adopt rather than birth their family. That’s not my concern and it’s not their sole responsibility to offer homes to children in need.

Let’s not be trapped in a time warp created by 1950s television. Perhaps the Anderson family from “Father Knows Best,” was composed of working Dad, stay-at-home Mom, and three adorable children….but that was a fantasy even then. Heck, I knew from the get-go that my family was different from what I saw on the small screen – my mother worked full-time; my dad never wore cardigans; and my sister’s father was not mine. My parents argued, loudly at times, unlike the fictional Andersons – and yet, I know now that I couldn’t have had a better set of parents.

What children need are caring parents who are committed to loving and raising strong, healthy kids. How that family is created is less my concern than that the adults are fully engaged in the hardest job on earth – parenting.

What none of us need are actors and pundits using false arguments about real issues to drive up ratings.

What say you Stilletto Faithful?

Marian aka the Northern Half of Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com/

Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
Murder Drops the Ball by Evelyn David, coming Spring 2011

Evelyn David’s Murder Takes the Cake

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Weddings can be murder! Murder Takes the Cake is the sequel to Murder Off the Books. Private Detective Mac Sullivan and his furry sidekick, Whiskey, are back for more mystery, romance, and fast food. For a taste of the “cake,” read the excerpt below:

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Time seemed to pause, then Mac sensed, rather than heard, the initial crack. Instinctively, he ducked behind the open car door, but his reflexes weren’t quite as fast as they used to be. Damn middle age. He could feel the flesh on his right arm burning, knew the wetness soaking his clothes and dripping down his hand was blood.

More bullets slapped into the car door, breaking the window and showering him with cubes of safety glass.

“Get down.” He hissed a warning to Merrell, but was much too late. Amid a third volley of bullets, Mac saw the Boston cop was face down on the asphalt, hand still in his pocket reaching for his wad of cash.

A bullet ricocheted off the door, striking the floorboard only a few inches from Mac’s hip. He needed to be somewhere else and quick. The bullet rounds continued. The shooter had to have more than one weapon or he’d reloaded.

Mac reached for his gun, tucked in a holster next to his left shoulder. The well-practiced movement was almost impossible. His right arm ached. His shooting hand was slippery with blood and felt strange…weak. He looked to make sure he was actually holding his gun.

The motel dumpster, twenty feet away, would offer more protection than an ancient Cadillac door. He decided to chance it.

A hail of bullets erupted as soon as he started running. One bullet bounced off the asphalt uncomfortably close to his left foot. He was three feet from the dumpster when he crouched and pivoted to return fire. The shooter was well hidden. Mac knew better than just to point and shoot. He needed to verify his target. If he could see the muzzle flash, he’d consider firing.

He never got that chance. Another rounds of shots and suddenly he found himself flat on his back, fur in his mouth, a 120-pound wolfhound as his personal bulletproof vest.

Squealing tires signaled the all-clear.

“Get off.” He attempted to push Whiskey off his chest, but the dog refused to budge.

“It’s okay, girl.” He tried to soothe the dog, running his left hand along her back. The quivering furry body told him she wasn’t convinced, although she appeared to be unhurt. A few more not-so-gentle pushes and Whiskey reluctantly gave up her perch.

Mac tried to sit up and failed. He’d twisted a muscle in his back when he fell; the muscles in his lower back had seized up. He rolled to his side and crawled next to the dumpster. Leaning against the cold metal, he propped himself upright gingerly and took inventory.

His arm throbbed. His favorite jacket was sliced open and damp with blood, probably ruined. With his left hand, he fished a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped the makeshift bandage around his upper arm. Conclusion–battered, but he’d live. Whiskey whined and Mac realized she was pacing the space between him and Merrell. For a moment he’d forgotten about Merrell.

Gritting his teeth against the pain in his back, Mac reholstered his gun and crawled over to the body sprawled twenty feet away, across two parking spaces. Judging from the exit wound that had taken off the back of the man’s skull, Mac knew there wasn’t much point in feeling for a pulse, but he did anyway. There was none.

He could hear sirens in the distance. Somebody had called the cops, but they were too scared to come out to the parking lot to help. He couldn’t blame them. Flying bullets don’t usually encourage heroics. Not from strangers.

Mac reached into Merrell’s pocket and withdrew the wad of cash. He shoved twenty back in so the cops wouldn’t think it was a robbery. He’d make sure Merrell’s kids got the money, like he promised.

The ache in his arm was increasing; winning the competition with the pain in his lower back. His gunshot wound now had his full, undivided attention. Mental exhaustion was also beginning to take a toll. Or maybe he was going into shock. Mac leaned against the Cadillac’s wheel and waited with his nervous dog for the cops to arrive. He had to figure out just how much explaining he was willing to do. It went without saying that Whiskey would go along with whatever version of the truth he told the police. Partners did that sort of thing.

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Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David

Buy the Kindle version at Amazon

Buy the iPad version at the Apple iBookstore

Buy the e-Pub version at The Digital Bookshop

2nd Edition Trade paperback version coming this Fall from Wolfmont Publishing. Limited quanity of autographed 1st edition copies are available now at The Digital Bookshop. For more information click here.

Evelyn David’s Murder Off the Books

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Murder Off the Books
by Evelyn David

Prologue

Friday Night

The pop of a human head cracking against rock sounded surprisingly loud. As the man fell against the wall of the clock tower, the killer unscrewed the silencer from the gun, musing about the number of details involved in planning and executing a perfect murder. And this was certainly not a perfect murder. Several loose ends were going to need tying. Next time a list might come in handy.

Sunday Night

Murder victims shouldn’t have to wait. Discount store shoppers, people with broken dental crowns, drivers in the middle of rush hour. Those people deserved to wait. Expected to wait. But not …

She was tired of being last on everyone’s ‘to do’ list.

Ten minutes. Way too long to be hiding in a closet. Way too long to be in the dark.

She really couldn’t stand cowering in the dark. If she had to cower, she’d do it in the light – just like always.

She clicked on the flashlight she’d grabbed in her frantic dash from the bed to the walk-in closet.

Much better.

The light was comforting. The light was …

The light was … risky.

She hastily clicked off the beam and disappeared back into the shadows.

She left the closet door ajar. Like everything else in her life – slightly warped. Once fully closed, it couldn’t be opened from the inside. She’d be stuck in there until … until what? Who’d rescue her?

She wished again that she hadn’t left her cordless phone downstairs.

Run. She wasn’t going to be able to run. Her right foot tingled – numb.

Rachel Brenner shifted, stretching out one bare leg, quietly trying to move her foot, thinking that at some point she might need to slip down into the living room and search for her second cordless phone, the one that fit into the charger on the kitchen wall and had been missing for a couple of days. She’d probably find it under the sofa or between the cushions. That’s where she’d look first – if she had time.

“Enough,” she whispered. “Concentrate on something besides the damn phones.”

Dust. The closet floor was cramped–and dusty. Stifling a sneeze, she decided she had some serious cleaning to do if she survived. If she didn’t, well it would be someone else’s problem.

She wiggled her toes until the feeling returned and then rose to her feet intending to open the closet door and listen.

Two steps. Her heart pounded so loud that she couldn’t think, much less hear.

Looking around, she grabbed a twenty-year-old trench coat that had belonged to her ex-husband and rolled it into a ball. She pressed the material against her chest to muffle the sound.

Stupid. No one else could hear her heart. No one else could hear her. The coat’s owner hadn’t.

Thoughts of Charlie cleared the noise from her head. She peeked through the crack in the door. And listened.

Nothing but the furnace and the sound of her own ragged breathing.

She held her breath and opened the door a little wider.

Nothing. She didn’t hear …

No. She heard it again. Something … just … there. A shuffling sound – still downstairs.

Rachel carefully closed the closet door again and returned to her spot on the floor, this time sitting on the bunched trench coat, instead of hiding behind it. She hugged her knees to her chest and stared at the bits and pieces surrounding her and wondered what would happen to all of her things when she was gone.

Sam would be the one to have to deal with selling or giving away her lifetime accumulation of clothes, costume jewelry, and mismatched china and silverware. Oh, he’d probably keep a few things. He might want some of the old family photographs she’d organized into albums. Thank goodness she’d gotten them labeled last year during one long, miserable night right after her divorce was final. At least Sam would be able to tell his children about her side of the family and put the correct name to the face.

Her brother wouldn’t be of much help. Dan had his own problems. He was settling into a new job and a new life. She sighed and stretched out her legs. Rachel nudged a shadow in the corner with her toe. A well-used hockey stick – another remnant of her exhusband,something from his glory days.

She flicked on the flashlight again and played the wavering beam over the clothes, empty suitcases, and shoes. God, she had too many shoes. She glanced at the row upon row of neatly labeled shoeboxes lining the shelf above the clothes rod, and the additional stacks on the carpeted floor beneath. Setting down the flashlight, she picked up a nearby box and peeked inside.

Beautiful black leather pumps, $89 on sale. Never worn. She glanced in another box. All purchased within the last two years and she’d never worn any of them. Her well-worn favorites were in a heap by her bed: Nikes, Reeboks, high-topped, brightly colored basketball shoes. The pumps, well, they were mostly just …

Rachel set down the box. They were a mistake. They were her way of trying to be more like the women Charlie Brenner had been screwing the last three years of their marriage. She frowned and put the lid back on the box. Like the woman Charlie currently lived with now. Tina of perky breasts and four-inch heels.

Tina would love all those shoes. Charlie would probably give them to her too, Rachel realized. Help Sam by taking them off his hands. Her shoes on Tina’s feet. No way.

The spurt of anger and the loud sound of a closing door gave her the courage to act.

Rachel got up and grabbed a pair of sweat pants off a hanger and pulled them on. Picking up the hockey stick, she stalked out of the closet.

Tina could buy her own damn shoes.

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Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David

Next Monday – Check back for an excerpt from the sequel
– Murder Takes the Cake

Whither Thou Goest

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I’m married to a Kamikaze Tourist. Let me be very clear. He’s a wonderful man. There is none better. In fact, we just celebrated a milestone anniversary, in honor of which we took a 10-day vacation. But traveling with my husband is exhausting and I always need a vacation from my vacation. How could two such compatible people have such differing views of what constitutes a respite from work?

The man, who while home never misses the opportunity to nap on the weekends, is, when traveling, suddenly transformed into the energizer bunny. There isn’t a ruin, a cathedral, a graveyard, that doesn’t require close inspection. Now I have been known to “brake for garage sales,” but I could pass by a pile of rubble and never even feel bad that I had missed, according to my better half, an enormous event in the earth’s history.

Now that’s not to say that I wasn’t dazzled, overwhelmed, struck silent (quite a trick) by the grandeur of the Grand Canyon. Surely, it deserves inclusion on the Seven Wonders of the World List. But in 100+ degree weather, my husband had us criss-crossing the South Rim at a pace that rivaled a Marine platoon, climbing up 84 narrow steps of a watchtower (and then down again, although I suggested that he leave me at the top and save himself), and virtually hang-gliding off precipices that Evil Knievel would have declared unsafe.

If insanity is repeating the same action and expecting a different result – call me crazier than a loon. I keep traveling with this guy – and then wondering why I come back so tired that hibernation is my only option. There is no lolling by any poolside, holding some fruity alcoholic drink decorated with a tiny paper umbrella. There are places to go and historic markers to read.

On the other hand, my guy is willing to keep a nice balance between the history stuff he wants to see, and the schlock and kitsch that I find interesting. For example, we started the trip in Las Vegas, despite the fact that he has zero interest in gambling. The reason we landed there, literally and figuratively, was because of my fear of flying. Don’t try and figure out why Vegas eliminates that phobia – it doesn’t, but in the context of this vacation, it made sense. Anyway, the point is that I wanted to see the Liberace museum, which according to AAA, is a “gem.” And despite the fact that my man neither liked Liberace, listened to him as a child, nor is that crazy about crystals, feathers, and rhinestones, he’s a good guy and drove me to the strip mall where the museum is housed. It actually was a fascinating historic review of the 1950s, the costumes were indeed way over the top, but best of all, my hubby led the cheers when I won the drawing at the end of the tour. I was presented with a CD of Liberace playing the piano and even better, my very own Liberace bear, complete with mirrored mini-capelet. We spent hours in the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest, examining every rock and trail marker for miles…but we also spent hours at the Farmers and Crafts Market in Las Cruces where I could find a dozen different types of chili peppers, as well as gorgeous silverwork and pottery.

We drove more than 1100 miles in 10 days, making multiple stops in Nevada, Arizona, and New Mexico. Is it any wonder that I need him to go back to work so that I can get some rest?

Tell me Stiletto Faithful: Are you taking a vacation this year? Stay-cations count too. If so, what are you doing? And is your traveling companion compatible?

Marian, the Northern Half of Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com

Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
Murder Drops the Ball by Evelyn David — Spring 2011 !!!!

Meet Rachel Brenner

/in /by

Thanks to Evelyn David, for not only letting me guest blog today, but for creating me in the first place. My name is Rachel Brenner. I do hair, makeup, and a few more substantial restorations for the clients of O’Herlihy Funeral Home. I believe it’s never too late to look your best.

I’m single. Wow, that sounds strange after 18 years of marriage. My ex has moved on to younger pastures – actually he moved on long before the marriage ended. I just pretended not to notice until my pride finally said no more.

My son Sam is a freshman in college. I see him every couple of months – more often if he’s between girlfriends or needs money. I love it when Sam comes home. He and his friends bring my old house to life. I don’t even mind the piles of dirty laundry and empty glasses and tomato-stained pizza cartons scattered around.

In between visits from Sam, I spend my time worrying about how to pay for his education, the maintenance on the old house my great aunt left me here in Washington D.C., and cat food. I have one four-footed dependent, Snickers. She’s happiest when it’s just her and me in the house.

Last fall, I’d just been settling into a new job and my single, empty nest, life when someone broke into my house, stole half of a ham, and had me hiding in a closet until I located my backbone and a hockey stick.

The purloined pork was only the beginning chapter in a “bigger than my life” tale of murder, mystery, Irish wolfhounds, and one very interesting private detective, Mac Sullivan. Tell me the truth; don’t you think a detective should own his own car? I mean, who does stakeouts in a hearse with a giant dog riding shotgun?

Mac may just be the man I’ve always wanted. Or he might be the one my grandmother always warned me about. Either way, I’m ready for a change.

You can stop in and find out more by picking up a copy of Murder Off the Books!

Murder Off the Books is available in trade paperback and Kindle editions at Amazon. Also the trade paperback is on the shelves at The Digital Bookshop. Other e-book formats can be found at the Apple iPad store and The Digital Bookshop.

If you already know how my story started, you can catch up on my latest adventures in the sequel, Murder Takes the Cake. ebook versions are available now at Amazon, Apple iPad store, and The Digital Bookshop. A second edition trade paperback will be available this fall. (Note: I have issues with turkeys not pigs in that book.)

All my best,

Oh, wait, don’t go yet. I meant to leave you with a tip – Ladies, if you are going to carry a cell phone, keep it close and charged, especially at night. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to resort to just throwing the darn things in self-defense. Would have been so much easier to just punch in 911 on the keypad. For instance, if I’d had a working cell phone I wouldn’t have had to steal that garden gnome … uh wait.

Can I take that back? I meant to say that I don’t know anything about my neighbor’s missing garden gnome. Nothing. I know noth…ing.

Rachel