Summary:
John Billings Mysteries #1
John Billings Mysteries #1
The year is 1895.
A disgruntled detective is looking for meaning in his life.
A psychotic young man wants to make his darkest fantasies come true.
A secretive society searches for hidden wisdom in ancient manuscripts.
When these three meet, a series of events is set in motion which leads to a horrific crime.
A Glimpse of Heaven is a thrilling, page-turning mystery about spiritualism, the occult... and the quest for magic.
Original Review August 2020:
Once again we return to Victorian England but this time DS Billings is just John Billings, private investigator. This is such a great series and so full of suspense, tension, and all around mayhem. What I love best about this series is the mystery is truly the main focus but that doesn't mean we don't get to see inside the mind of the detective, John Billings. Despite the time frame being wrong for noir, there is still something very reminiscent of the genre within the pages of this Victorian world.
As I said the mystery is the main bulk of the story but we get to see a little more of Billings' mind toward accepting who he is, his sexuality is brought in a little more each time. Personally I think he explored that side of himself more in the last entry of the DS Billings Victorian Mystery series, Anarchy, and yet we see him accept himself a bit more in A Glimpse of Heaven. With his new employee, intern, partner, whichever term you like, Trotter is just as enjoyable as Billings himself. I can't wait to watch Trotter grow just as we have seen Billings do throughout his journey. The potential to be a Victorian-non-superhero Batman and Robin is definitely there and I look forward to their working/friendship evolve.
John's friendship with his former partner, Sergeant Clarkson, is carried over into this spin-off series, which I loved. If you've been reading Billings' exploits from the beginning you know where his feelings tend to go when Clarkson is involved and now we get to see Clarkson's thoughts on Billings' inclinations. I won't go into more detail there because I feel like I've already said too much for those who have yet to start these stories but it's a wonderful and realistic progression.
As for the mystery itself, there is so many interesting and intriguing moments that I don't want to touch on because it truly is something you have to experience for yourself and as so often, every little detail is another twisted corner you have to wrap your mind around. Trust me, it will keep you on the edge of your seat from beginning to end.
I don't know if the author thinks of John Billings Mystery as a "spin-off" of the DS Billings Victorian Mysteries or just the next leg in the main character's journey but I call it a spin-off as it's just simpler😉. Do you need to read DS Billings first? Probably not but I know I wouldn't want to start with A Glimpse of Heaven, I'd want to see how and where John's story began and grew. I have a feeling that John Billings Mystery is more of an ongoing series than DS Billings, those mysteries all have a beginning and end but again I recommend reading from the beginning, if for no other reason than to see his evolution towards accepting himself as well as the friendship with Clarkson. However you read it, they are brilliant tales of murder, menace, and mayhem.
RATING:
A disgruntled detective is looking for meaning in his life.
A psychotic young man wants to make his darkest fantasies come true.
A secretive society searches for hidden wisdom in ancient manuscripts.
When these three meet, a series of events is set in motion which leads to a horrific crime.
A Glimpse of Heaven is a thrilling, page-turning mystery about spiritualism, the occult... and the quest for magic.
Once again we return to Victorian England but this time DS Billings is just John Billings, private investigator. This is such a great series and so full of suspense, tension, and all around mayhem. What I love best about this series is the mystery is truly the main focus but that doesn't mean we don't get to see inside the mind of the detective, John Billings. Despite the time frame being wrong for noir, there is still something very reminiscent of the genre within the pages of this Victorian world.
As I said the mystery is the main bulk of the story but we get to see a little more of Billings' mind toward accepting who he is, his sexuality is brought in a little more each time. Personally I think he explored that side of himself more in the last entry of the DS Billings Victorian Mystery series, Anarchy, and yet we see him accept himself a bit more in A Glimpse of Heaven. With his new employee, intern, partner, whichever term you like, Trotter is just as enjoyable as Billings himself. I can't wait to watch Trotter grow just as we have seen Billings do throughout his journey. The potential to be a Victorian-non-superhero Batman and Robin is definitely there and I look forward to their working/friendship evolve.
John's friendship with his former partner, Sergeant Clarkson, is carried over into this spin-off series, which I loved. If you've been reading Billings' exploits from the beginning you know where his feelings tend to go when Clarkson is involved and now we get to see Clarkson's thoughts on Billings' inclinations. I won't go into more detail there because I feel like I've already said too much for those who have yet to start these stories but it's a wonderful and realistic progression.
As for the mystery itself, there is so many interesting and intriguing moments that I don't want to touch on because it truly is something you have to experience for yourself and as so often, every little detail is another twisted corner you have to wrap your mind around. Trust me, it will keep you on the edge of your seat from beginning to end.
I don't know if the author thinks of John Billings Mystery as a "spin-off" of the DS Billings Victorian Mysteries or just the next leg in the main character's journey but I call it a spin-off as it's just simpler😉. Do you need to read DS Billings first? Probably not but I know I wouldn't want to start with A Glimpse of Heaven, I'd want to see how and where John's story began and grew. I have a feeling that John Billings Mystery is more of an ongoing series than DS Billings, those mysteries all have a beginning and end but again I recommend reading from the beginning, if for no other reason than to see his evolution towards accepting himself as well as the friendship with Clarkson. However you read it, they are brilliant tales of murder, menace, and mayhem.
RATING:
Summary:
In Darkness #2
In Darkness #2
Felix and Lane are trying out their new normal. Normal means no more car chases, no more drug lords, and definitely no more kidnapping bad guys. All of that is a thing of the past in this new, normal(ish) life style filled with family get-togethers, torturous jogs through the park, and the occasional romp in the parking lot. Felix is done stealing (all but for the cat). He is actually enjoying the boring side of life, especially with Lane by his side doing what he does best: looking handsome. But when Felix’s brother wants to repair their relationship, he brings with him a secret that could cost all of them their lives. Lane isn’t complaining because the thrills of life-threatening situations are right up his alley. They may think they have a handle on the situation, but what they do not know is that someone has been working them from the shadows. Forcing them to do exactly what he wants as he drives them closer to his sick game of life and death.
Join Felix and Lane in a race against time, their only weapons being their humor and their wit.
Original Audiobook Review September 2020:
I really loved this series, such fun characters, I can't imagine Felix and Lane behaving any differently. Their connection is brilliant and just jumps off the page at you, I won't say any more to the plot but I will that Joel Leslie really makes their snark and cuddle moments even more of a delight. I don't know what the author's plans are for the pair as to future installments and more zany suspense but I know that I will definitely be reading and listening to them all.
Join Felix and Lane in a race against time, their only weapons being their humor and their wit.
I really loved this series, such fun characters, I can't imagine Felix and Lane behaving any differently. Their connection is brilliant and just jumps off the page at you, I won't say any more to the plot but I will that Joel Leslie really makes their snark and cuddle moments even more of a delight. I don't know what the author's plans are for the pair as to future installments and more zany suspense but I know that I will definitely be reading and listening to them all.
Original ebook Review February 2020:
Felix and Lane just keep getting better and better. From navigating their ongoing love, the drama of Felix's brother, the the complete awesomeness of Lane's family, Felix's penchant for finding trouble, and of course their wicked banter there is absolutely nothing to not love.
It is characters and stories like Felix and Lane that I've come to classify as "snark and cuddle". By snark and cuddle I mean they pull no punches in their banter and dialogue but you never doubt for even a split second that it comes 150% from the heart. They appear to fight and get on each other's nerves but it's done with such deliberate tones of love that it's just a part of who they are, without the banter the love wouldn't be there. To some people it comes across as mean and spiteful but as someone who grew up in a household with that kind of banter(on a much smaller scale of course) I can spot it a mile away which is why I loved these two men from the very beginning.
As for Felix's brother, well the less I say about him is probably better because Darius is the kind of character you have to experience to understand. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to hate him, I wanted Felix to get Lane to "work his magic" but I couldn't help but feel there was more going on then what the author was letting us see and boy was there more going on! That's it! No more in that department you'll get from me other than: when you thought it was over it is so not done. #sorrynotsorry😉😉
I had been hearing great things about Alice Winters' work from friends who's opinions mattered to me and I respected but I never took the plunge until this past November when book 1 came up in 2 different posts I made in a FB rec group. I absolutely LOVED IT!!!! Because of the holiday I only read book 1 but 2 & 3 were at the top of my 2020 list. Now I'm off to read book 3, can't wait to see what's next for Felix and Lane.
RATING:
It is characters and stories like Felix and Lane that I've come to classify as "snark and cuddle". By snark and cuddle I mean they pull no punches in their banter and dialogue but you never doubt for even a split second that it comes 150% from the heart. They appear to fight and get on each other's nerves but it's done with such deliberate tones of love that it's just a part of who they are, without the banter the love wouldn't be there. To some people it comes across as mean and spiteful but as someone who grew up in a household with that kind of banter(on a much smaller scale of course) I can spot it a mile away which is why I loved these two men from the very beginning.
As for Felix's brother, well the less I say about him is probably better because Darius is the kind of character you have to experience to understand. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to hate him, I wanted Felix to get Lane to "work his magic" but I couldn't help but feel there was more going on then what the author was letting us see and boy was there more going on! That's it! No more in that department you'll get from me other than: when you thought it was over it is so not done. #sorrynotsorry😉😉
I had been hearing great things about Alice Winters' work from friends who's opinions mattered to me and I respected but I never took the plunge until this past November when book 1 came up in 2 different posts I made in a FB rec group. I absolutely LOVED IT!!!! Because of the holiday I only read book 1 but 2 & 3 were at the top of my 2020 list. Now I'm off to read book 3, can't wait to see what's next for Felix and Lane.
RATING:
Summary:
Haven Hart #7
Haven Hart #7
Haven Hart stands on the edge of good and evil. Having balance between the two is the only thing keeping the town from crumbling to the ground. For years, one man has been charged with maintaining that balance. Poe.
The air of mystery surrounding Poe is one of necessity. He’s the keeper of secrets and for good reason. He’s stood alone against the most ruthless men and women, always hiding behind the curtain to help his friends defeat what seeks to destroy them.
Now, after all this time, the city he loves, the people he has protected, and the secrets he’s kept hidden are in serious jeopardy. Poe will need the help of his friends to fight the ultimate battle; not just save Haven Hart but everything and everyone he holds dear to him.
When the dust settles, will betrayals be forgiven? Will the city still be standing? Will Poe’s beloved be at his side or will everything crumble? One thing is for certain, everything will be tested, and questions will finally be answered. Raven’s Hart is the final installment in the Haven Hart Series.
***IMPORTANT***
This is the 7th book in the Haven Hart Series it is NOT a standalone and all others need to be read before this one.
Original Audiobook Listen May 2020:
I'm going to start by saying: WOW! HOLY HANNAH BATMAN! THE FORCE IS STRONG WITH THIS ONE! Now, I've used all those terms repeatedly to express my absolute and complete love for both Davidson King's art of storytelling and the Haven Hart Universe but this time I'm adding it to express my love for Joel Leslie & Philip Alces narration. I've loved their portrayals from the beginning but in Raven's Hart, they are not only telling Poe & Phin's story but all the characters return in this amazing series conclusion(😭BOO! to the ending of this amazing series😭 but 😍YAY! to the brilliance of it's telling😍). Personally, I'll confess I was worried how well the individual characters from past entries would be differentiated. I need not have worried because there wasn't a single second where I wasn't sure who was who. Talented narration, talented storytelling, what more could a person ask for? Maybe more😉😉😉lol.
Original ebook Review October Book of the Month 2019:
First, I have to give myself a big hand of applause👏👏👏👏👏👏 because I managed to do something I have never done before with a book that I have anticipated as much as I have with Raven's Hart: I savored the read! That's right, you heard me, I savored the read. Normally, my biggest tell as to whether it's a winning gem is I just have to know how it ends so I read the book as I quickly as life allows but then when I get to the final page I kick myself for not reading it slower to prolong the amazing goodness. HOWEVER, I knew Raven's Hart was the finale to Davidson King's Haven Hart Universe so I forced myself to "linger" so I could put off that final page and the goodbye as long as possible. So excuse me a minute while I give myself another round of applause👏👏👏👏👏👏.
Now on to Raven's Hart. What can I say without spoilers? Very little actually so as to the plot: HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!!! OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!!! THE FORCE IS STRONG WITH THIS ONE!!!! Can you tell I liked it? We finally learn Poe's story and what a story it is! Poe, a man who went from yoga-in-the-park BFF to the-man-with-access-to-the-vaults to THE MAN! and he did it all with heart, a heart that beats, breaks, and bleeds. We finally learn what keeps that heart going. That's it, that's all the plot points you are getting from me, any more would just give too much away. Sorry, not sorry😉.
Everyone returns to rally around the man who has helped them(albeit reluctantly at times). I was going to say "the entire cast of characters returns" but I changed it to just "everyone" because to say "cast of characters" puts a spotlight on them being fictional. And yes, I know they are fictional, Haven Hart is fictional, but Davidson King has done such an exceptionally amazing job at world building and character development that they seem so real, that you could meet them pumping gas, getting milk, returning books to the library, etc. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Davidson King is more than an author or writer, she is a storyteller, an attention-grabbing, heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping storyteller.
If you have been reading Haven Hart from the beginning then you probably already have Raven's Hart in your sights and on your list but if you haven't now is the perfect time to start. As I started with, Poe's story is the finale to this amazing journey so you can read from beginning to end and you really do need to read this series in order. Yes, each entry focuses on a different couple(or throuple in Triple Threat and Snow Storm features Snow and Christopher from Snow Falling which started this amazing journey) with it's own beginning and ending but each book also holds clues to the full mysterious journey. I really can't recommend Haven Hart Universe enough and I'll fill you in on a little secret, if they ever made this into a film series Haven Hart would be a very close second to the Star Wars Saga on my favorite films of all time list(and if you know me then you'll know how huge that is because I've been a SW fanatic since I saw the original back in 1977 when I was only 4 years old)😉.
One last note: I said Raven's Hart is the finale to Haven's Hart and it is but we do get to see more of Simon's story in 2020. Who knows maybe if we are super, duper, uber nice Miss King will write a holiday novella/coda some day😉😉. Either way, its been onehelluva ride, Davidson King and Thank You for this amazing world you gave us.
And one more thing . . . the cover designs for this whole series has been amazing. Morningstar Ashley of Designs by Morningstar have captured the setting of Haven Hart and the ongoing stories incredibly with eye-catching awesomeness.
RATING:
The air of mystery surrounding Poe is one of necessity. He’s the keeper of secrets and for good reason. He’s stood alone against the most ruthless men and women, always hiding behind the curtain to help his friends defeat what seeks to destroy them.
Now, after all this time, the city he loves, the people he has protected, and the secrets he’s kept hidden are in serious jeopardy. Poe will need the help of his friends to fight the ultimate battle; not just save Haven Hart but everything and everyone he holds dear to him.
When the dust settles, will betrayals be forgiven? Will the city still be standing? Will Poe’s beloved be at his side or will everything crumble? One thing is for certain, everything will be tested, and questions will finally be answered. Raven’s Hart is the final installment in the Haven Hart Series.
***IMPORTANT***
This is the 7th book in the Haven Hart Series it is NOT a standalone and all others need to be read before this one.
I'm going to start by saying: WOW! HOLY HANNAH BATMAN! THE FORCE IS STRONG WITH THIS ONE! Now, I've used all those terms repeatedly to express my absolute and complete love for both Davidson King's art of storytelling and the Haven Hart Universe but this time I'm adding it to express my love for Joel Leslie & Philip Alces narration. I've loved their portrayals from the beginning but in Raven's Hart, they are not only telling Poe & Phin's story but all the characters return in this amazing series conclusion(😭BOO! to the ending of this amazing series😭 but 😍YAY! to the brilliance of it's telling😍). Personally, I'll confess I was worried how well the individual characters from past entries would be differentiated. I need not have worried because there wasn't a single second where I wasn't sure who was who. Talented narration, talented storytelling, what more could a person ask for? Maybe more😉😉😉lol.
First, I have to give myself a big hand of applause👏👏👏👏👏👏 because I managed to do something I have never done before with a book that I have anticipated as much as I have with Raven's Hart: I savored the read! That's right, you heard me, I savored the read. Normally, my biggest tell as to whether it's a winning gem is I just have to know how it ends so I read the book as I quickly as life allows but then when I get to the final page I kick myself for not reading it slower to prolong the amazing goodness. HOWEVER, I knew Raven's Hart was the finale to Davidson King's Haven Hart Universe so I forced myself to "linger" so I could put off that final page and the goodbye as long as possible. So excuse me a minute while I give myself another round of applause👏👏👏👏👏👏.
Now on to Raven's Hart. What can I say without spoilers? Very little actually so as to the plot: HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!!! OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!!! THE FORCE IS STRONG WITH THIS ONE!!!! Can you tell I liked it? We finally learn Poe's story and what a story it is! Poe, a man who went from yoga-in-the-park BFF to the-man-with-access-to-the-vaults to THE MAN! and he did it all with heart, a heart that beats, breaks, and bleeds. We finally learn what keeps that heart going. That's it, that's all the plot points you are getting from me, any more would just give too much away. Sorry, not sorry😉.
Everyone returns to rally around the man who has helped them(albeit reluctantly at times). I was going to say "the entire cast of characters returns" but I changed it to just "everyone" because to say "cast of characters" puts a spotlight on them being fictional. And yes, I know they are fictional, Haven Hart is fictional, but Davidson King has done such an exceptionally amazing job at world building and character development that they seem so real, that you could meet them pumping gas, getting milk, returning books to the library, etc. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Davidson King is more than an author or writer, she is a storyteller, an attention-grabbing, heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping storyteller.
If you have been reading Haven Hart from the beginning then you probably already have Raven's Hart in your sights and on your list but if you haven't now is the perfect time to start. As I started with, Poe's story is the finale to this amazing journey so you can read from beginning to end and you really do need to read this series in order. Yes, each entry focuses on a different couple(or throuple in Triple Threat and Snow Storm features Snow and Christopher from Snow Falling which started this amazing journey) with it's own beginning and ending but each book also holds clues to the full mysterious journey. I really can't recommend Haven Hart Universe enough and I'll fill you in on a little secret, if they ever made this into a film series Haven Hart would be a very close second to the Star Wars Saga on my favorite films of all time list(and if you know me then you'll know how huge that is because I've been a SW fanatic since I saw the original back in 1977 when I was only 4 years old)😉.
One last note: I said Raven's Hart is the finale to Haven's Hart and it is but we do get to see more of Simon's story in 2020. Who knows maybe if we are super, duper, uber nice Miss King will write a holiday novella/coda some day😉😉. Either way, its been onehelluva ride, Davidson King and Thank You for this amazing world you gave us.
And one more thing . . . the cover designs for this whole series has been amazing. Morningstar Ashley of Designs by Morningstar have captured the setting of Haven Hart and the ongoing stories incredibly with eye-catching awesomeness.
RATING:
Summary:
A wild and dangerous ride takes two lonely men into uncharted territory…
1943 Montana. Returning home to Montana after being wounded in the Pacific, Police Chief Robert Garrett was hoping for a little much needed Peace on Earth and Goodwill Toward Man. Instead, he finds himself chasing after a cold-blooded killer on Christmas Day aided—whether he likes it or not—by eager young reporter Jamie Jameson.
Jamie has idolized Police Chief Garrett most of his life. Despite a stolen birthday kiss three years earlier, he knows his feelings are unreturned. Even if Rob felt the same, there’s no room in their world for such feelings between men. But while Jamie can accept Robert not sharing his feelings, he won’t put up with being treated like a troublesome kid brother. He too has a job to do and he intends on traveling this bloody and twisted road with Robert Garrett—no matter where it leads.
Considering it's only been about 6 months since I originally read Slay Ride(listening to the audiobook so soon is something I very rarely do) the suspense still had me glued to my seat. There really is nothing more I can add to the original review so I'll just add that Alexander Masters' narration is spot on. Whether it was the 1943 setting of Slay Ride or the narrators brilliant reading but I really felt like I was listening to one of the old radio shows I collect which only heightened the enjoyment.
Original Review Book of the May 2019:
Once again Josh Lanyon does not disappoint. She has blended suspense and romance perfectly as well as set the scene for the WW2 era homefront. Robert having been wounded and discharged is now sheriff and Jamie, 4F who is disappointed not to serve. One of my dad's uncles was unable to serve and was told his services were needed here as he was a farmer. The disappointment Jamie feels is spot on, not that I expected anything less from the author. As with her other historicals, it is pretty obvious that she has a healthy respect for the past with the little details she includes in the story and yet the accuracies are never so strong that it reads as a history lesson. I know that is why some steer clear of the historical sub-genre so if you are one who lets stories of the past go unread because you don't want to be "taught a lesson" then this is the book for you. You definitely get a feel for the era but it never overshadows the entertainment factor.
As for Robert and Jamie, they have this push and pull dance of attraction balanced with the fear of being discovered. You just want to tell them it will be okay but in 1943, that isn't a guarantee and Josh Lanyon balances that scale with flirty danger that kept me glued to my seat. Throw in a layer of suspense which I won't spoil and you have a must read for Lanyon fans as well as historical and mystery fans.
Now, I should mention that I actually loved the way the author "finished it off" off-page. I know some might not like that and will feel a little cheated not to "see" all the action but if you are a fan of classic films of the 40s then you know you often didn't get to see the big payoff. Of course in old Hollywood they had the censor board they had to adhere to but as Slay Ride is set in 1943, I found it quite fitting to finish the way it did and I not only can't imagine it ending with a big "onscreen bloody shootout", I would have been disappointed if it had. I guess what I'm saying is the way the author wrote the ending is, in my opinion, just another example of the respect she has for the past that makes this story wonderfully entertaining.
RATING:
Summary:
Cambridge Fellows Mysteries #12.9
Cambridge Fellows Mysteries #12.9
Somebody appears to be lacing certain Cambridge dons' food with laxatives. When they appear to have turned to stronger poison Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith get on the trail. Only Jonty's laid up in sick bay with a rugby injury so he'll have to wait for the clues to come to him...
Original Review May 2020:
I've said it before and I'll say it again, whether the author writes 100 full length novels or only one 2-page holiday coda, I will always be on board and it will never be enough. Jonty and Orlando are quite possibly my favorite fictional sleuthing duo, and trust me I read a lot of mysteries and I have a long list of faves😉.
This time around, has a nasty prank led to dire unforeseen consequences or well thought out mayhem? You know my answer to that is to read for yourself and as this is mystery novella entry in the series I'll be spoiling even less😉. Trust me, if you love Jonty and Orlando than you already know this is a fantastic gem and if you've never read Cambridge Fellows Mysteries before, you need to.
As for Jonty and Orlando themselves, I think Poisonous Trail actually conveys how much they mean to each other more than almost any of the other entries. Considering they spend so much of the story apart that seems like an odd thing for me to say but as the old adage goes, "absence makes the heart grow fonder", not being able to bounce ideas off each other instantly they each come to appreciate the other that much more. Don't get me wrong, there was never any doubt how they felt for one another it's just you get the idea that they maybe took their proximity for granted and with Jonty in the sick ward on campus that proximity is not there at the moment.
Talking about Jonty, Orlando, and their "proximity", if you've been a fan of the series then you already know most of the heat is off page. Now, some prefer to "see" the hot-and-heavy, Lord knows I'm no prude but sometimes it's nice to have the story concentrate more on the mystery and the relationship leaving the heat to the imagination. Personally, when done right I think off-page can strengthen the readers' bond with the characters because the author has to convey the romance more deeply. Just another reason why I love this series so much. I should add that I really loved seeing Dr. Panesar get to scratch his sleuthing itch this time around, he's not one to often aid them in their cases so I think it adds to the boys finding themselves in unwanted territory of Jonty not being able to "pound the pavement" as it were in regards to doing the leg work.
Cambridge Fellows is a historical mystery series which I know isn't everyone's cup of tea. As a history buff I really appreciate the author's obvious respect for the era with her attention to detail, from phrases to clothing to regulations and everything in between. Just because the details are there if you are one who shies away from the genre because they don't want to read a school lesson, don't worry the author never lets the details get so heavy that they screw with the reading experience.
One last thing: if you are new to the series and wondering about reading order because I believe Poisonous Trail is the 17th published work, I highly recommend checking out the chronological timeline on the author's website because some stories "go back and fill in". Would you be lost if you read them willy-nilly? No. As each entry is a new mystery, you could make a case of them being standalones but as it's also a journey of Jonty and Orlando's relationship, there is a certain level of growth in each one so I highly recommend reading them chronologically if you can but it's not a must.
RATING:
I've said it before and I'll say it again, whether the author writes 100 full length novels or only one 2-page holiday coda, I will always be on board and it will never be enough. Jonty and Orlando are quite possibly my favorite fictional sleuthing duo, and trust me I read a lot of mysteries and I have a long list of faves😉.
This time around, has a nasty prank led to dire unforeseen consequences or well thought out mayhem? You know my answer to that is to read for yourself and as this is mystery novella entry in the series I'll be spoiling even less😉. Trust me, if you love Jonty and Orlando than you already know this is a fantastic gem and if you've never read Cambridge Fellows Mysteries before, you need to.
As for Jonty and Orlando themselves, I think Poisonous Trail actually conveys how much they mean to each other more than almost any of the other entries. Considering they spend so much of the story apart that seems like an odd thing for me to say but as the old adage goes, "absence makes the heart grow fonder", not being able to bounce ideas off each other instantly they each come to appreciate the other that much more. Don't get me wrong, there was never any doubt how they felt for one another it's just you get the idea that they maybe took their proximity for granted and with Jonty in the sick ward on campus that proximity is not there at the moment.
Talking about Jonty, Orlando, and their "proximity", if you've been a fan of the series then you already know most of the heat is off page. Now, some prefer to "see" the hot-and-heavy, Lord knows I'm no prude but sometimes it's nice to have the story concentrate more on the mystery and the relationship leaving the heat to the imagination. Personally, when done right I think off-page can strengthen the readers' bond with the characters because the author has to convey the romance more deeply. Just another reason why I love this series so much. I should add that I really loved seeing Dr. Panesar get to scratch his sleuthing itch this time around, he's not one to often aid them in their cases so I think it adds to the boys finding themselves in unwanted territory of Jonty not being able to "pound the pavement" as it were in regards to doing the leg work.
Cambridge Fellows is a historical mystery series which I know isn't everyone's cup of tea. As a history buff I really appreciate the author's obvious respect for the era with her attention to detail, from phrases to clothing to regulations and everything in between. Just because the details are there if you are one who shies away from the genre because they don't want to read a school lesson, don't worry the author never lets the details get so heavy that they screw with the reading experience.
One last thing: if you are new to the series and wondering about reading order because I believe Poisonous Trail is the 17th published work, I highly recommend checking out the chronological timeline on the author's website because some stories "go back and fill in". Would you be lost if you read them willy-nilly? No. As each entry is a new mystery, you could make a case of them being standalones but as it's also a journey of Jonty and Orlando's relationship, there is a certain level of growth in each one so I highly recommend reading them chronologically if you can but it's not a must.
RATING:
A Light in the Darkness by Alice Winters
Chapter One
“Lane!” I scream.
I don’t know where he is, but I can’t get up. I can’t move.
“Lane!”
I might die here if he doesn’t reach me in time.
“What?” he asks as he steps into the living room. He’s a little hesitant as he walks in since he’s still trying to remember where everything is in his parents’ house. Even though he lived in this house as a child, it’s been hard for him to remember the placement of everything now that he can’t see any of it. Probably because he’s so old it feels like a lifetime ago that he lived here.
“What happened?” he asks.
“I ate so much that I can’t move,” I moan from where I lay on the couch. I peek over the armrest to get a good look at him. The first thing I notice isn’t his handsome face covered in just the right amount of stubble. It isn’t the sunglasses that he insists on wearing even when we’re at home. Nor is it his dark brown hair that seems to have a mind of its own. What I do notice is how sweaty he is. He’d been working out on the treadmill in the basement, and now his clothes are sticking to his chest, giving me a very nice view of his muscular frame. “Why is your mother’s cooking so good, Lane?”
He shakes his head, clearly disbelieving the fact that I may die after consuming too much food. “You’re going to turn into an Oompa Loompa if you don’t slow down,” he says.
I snort. “Thanks Lane, you’re the sweetest. I love you the most!” I say sarcastically.
“You do understand that just because she cooks it, doesn’t mean you have to eat all of it, right?” he asks as he slowly walks further into the room.
“It’s like hibernation. I’m creating a fat storage for when we move out and have to go back to starving,” I explain since my cooking is anything but edible. With a yawn, I stretch out my arms just as he touches the back of the couch.
“Well, you’re doing a splendid job of it because I went in to grab a cookie, and the cookie jar is empty. How many did you eat today?”
I watch his handsome face as he leans over me. He may not be able to see me, but he sure can scrutinize me when he thinks I’m not being honest. But I notice that there’s a slight upturn to his lips that makes it hard to keep my grin at bay. I kind of want to lean forward and capture those lips as my own.
“How many what?” I ask innocently. I’m not sure how he could point fingers at me when there are two other people staying in this house.
“How many cookies have you eaten?”
“In the past…five minutes? Or today?”
“Just choose.”
“Lane, I don’t like you making me feel bad about myself,” I say as I push my blond hair out of my face. Lane reaches down and touches my chest before feeling his way to my stomach and patting it.
He looks thoughtful as he feels it over. “That’s weird…it’s about the same size as the cookie jar,” he says.
I laugh and push his hand away. “No! Your mom said I could have them!”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “I heard the phone ring, who called you?”
I sit up as I grimace. “The realtor called, but I told her that we don’t need any of the lies she’s selling.”
“A house? The lie of a house?” he asks.
“Lane…I don’t want to leave,” I say as I look around the quaint living room with its walls smothered in pictures of the family.
If there is a span of the wall twelve inches wide that isn’t covered by a picture of someone in this family, then I’d be willing to bet my right hand that the photo fell down and Lane’s mother hasn’t gotten to putting it back up. It was cute when I first walked in, especially getting to see all the photographs of a young Lane, but the family photo in the bathroom that I have to look at while taking a shit is a bit too much. Yesterday I put a post-it note over everyone’s face in the photograph, and the others must think it’s an improvement because no one’s fixed it yet. Besides the family pictures, there are way too many sunflower decorations, but if I’m being honest, I love every inch of it. Even the picture in the bathroom.
“We can’t live with my parents,” he says.
“Says who? You? Because your mom said we can live with her forever, and I think she meant it.”
He grins as he shakes his head. “She was just being polite.”
“Lane…she loves me,” I say defensively. “Yesterday she bought me Gushers. Have you ever heard of those things? They’re like…gooey on the inside and absolutely amazing.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of Gushers before. So what time are we meeting her?”
“Three,” I say grudgingly. “We’ll leave in about twenty minutes to pick up Copper.”
“Then I better go get a shower,” he says as I stand up. “Can you pick my clothes out for me so we can keep moving?”
“Sure,” I say as I stretch again. These past few weeks have been good to me even though my body has begun to complain about inactivity.
“Thanks,” he says as he reaches for me, most likely to hug me, but I dodge him like the plague.
“I love you, Lane, really I do, but right now you’re past the point of attractive and into the field of disgusting. Way too sweaty,” I say with a grimace because I feel like we are definitely at a good enough point in our relationship where I can tell him how disgusting he is. He’s past the sexy, slightly sweaty version and into the disgusting, don’t touch me version.
“You won’t hug me?” he asks, looking offended.
I can tell he’s joking, but I wrinkle my nose as I stare at him. “Absolutely not.”
“Really,” he says, like his feelings are hurt. “Come on. Give me a hug.” He grabs for me so I scamper away.
“No! Go away!” I say. “I’m getting changed.”
“What? You mean you’re actually going to get out of your pajamas?”
“I feel like you’re being very critical when I’ve needed this time to recover,” I say. “I need to recover from all the shootings, the running, and all that other junk I would like to never think about again.”
“You act like we’ve only been here a couple of weeks. You’ve had a lot of time to recover.”
“Lane,” I say warningly.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure you look very sexy in those pajama pants,” he says.
“They’re your mom’s, so thanks,” I say.
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” he says as his eyebrows furrow.
I laugh and head back for his bedroom.
I pull up to a small brick building with a large painting of a dog overlapping the door. It’s neat until someone opens the door, then it looks like the dog has a big gaping hole in its face.
“I’ll run in and get him since whenever Ned gets a hold of you, he won’t shut up,” I say.
“Good plan,” Lane says, so I get out, leaving the car running.
We had decided that instead of getting Lane a different dog, we would use our dog Copper as a service dog. Since Copper had been trained to be a police dog when he was young, he already has a large range of commands and knowledge. So, a man who works with service dogs agreed to do some private training with him. It was also easier to get Copper registered as a service dog than to get on the waiting list for a trained one, so now all we need to do is teach him a few of the commands.
This is Copper’s fourth week working with Ned, and I’m already not really fond of the man. He’s amazing with Copper, but I’m not sure he likes me or maybe we have a difference of opinion. I drop Copper off in the morning and pick him up later in the day at least three times a week, and he works with him throughout the day. I miss my little Copper when he’s gone, and Lane has to remind me that I have to share Copper when he returns.
I push through the door, into the office area and walk inside to where I notice Ned rushing on by. He’s a lanky man who seems to have one speed.
“Hey, Felix!” he says sounding joyful, like he’s forgotten that the last time he saw me, he chewed me out.
“Hey,” I say with a forced smile. I do not forgive as quickly. “Copper good?”
“He’s fantastic. He picks everything up with ease, and you can tell he loves having a job. At home, I still want you guys just to be working on that follow command. He understands it pretty well, but don’t forget that when he follows, you click and reward.”
“Got it. That’s awesome to hear,” I say with a smile.
“I’ll go get Copper,” he says before disappearing through the open door. He returns after a few minutes with the black German shepherd at his side.
Copper’s tail starts going a hundred miles an hour when he sees me, and no matter how much I want to drop to my knees and pet him, I’m not allowed to say anything to him. The first time we came to pick him up, I greeted Copper with love which in Ned’s eyes is a “preposterous” thing to do. He assured me that I would ruin the dog by giving him such joyous affection as soon as I see him, so I keep my eyes on Ned and take the leash without a word to Copper.
I see Copper’s tail begin to slow as he looks up at me in devastation, black ears falling like he thinks I’m upset with him. “Thanks,” I say grudgingly.
“See how much calmer and wellbehaved he is when you greet him properly?” Ned asks.
“Totally,” I lie as I lead Copper to the door. “See you Monday.”
“Have a good night.”
“Thanks, you too,” I say as I lead Copper out to the blue four-door car. I open the back door and send him inside before getting into the driver’s seat. Then I turn to Copper who is already crawling over the middle console onto my lap. “Aw, my sweetie pie. Did you have fun today?” I coo, and his entire body wiggles as his tail whaps Lane mercilessly across the face.
Lane laughs as he pushes Copper’s tail down. “Didn’t he tell you to stop babying that dog?”
“Yeah, well…he clearly doesn’t understand love,” I say as I glance up at the building and see Ned standing in the doorway, watching my deplorable display of affection.
“Shit, shit, Ned’s watching us, Copper, get back,” I say as I shove him in the back. “Play it cool.” I wave to Ned who is staring at me with clear disapproval on his face. “I think he’s pretending like he doesn’t see me.”
“Now I’m going to have to hear all about it when I see him again,” Lane says.
“Oh well,” I say as I put the car in drive and gladly pull out of the parking lot. Even when it’s long behind me, I can still feel Ned’s stare and judgment.
I glance down at the GPS as I turn out onto Main Street. “You sure we can’t live with your mother forever?”
“I lived with her for twenty years, it was enough,” he says. “We need to get a house.”
“We do?” I ask skeptically. “Last I checked, I definitely don’t have enough money to buy a house. Or do you mean you’ll buy it, and I’ll just live in it and mooch off you?”
He nods. “Yeah, that one.”
I grin as I turn where the GPS tells me to. “Yeah…I thought so.”
“You can work it off,” he says.
“Oh, you mean like sexy time,” I say with a grin.
“No, like by cleaning and taking care of the lawn and stuff.”
“What else would I have meant by sexy time?” I ask. “You should see the way I tug on that push mower.”
He looks slightly concerned when I glance at him. “Hmm…is that supposed to be sexy? Sometimes I really can’t tell with you.”
“Good, I like you on your toes,” I say.
“Your destination is on the right…”
“Here we are,” I say as I pull into the driveway of a gorgeous one-story home. “Ooh…I like it.”
“Why? Is it just like a little hole in the ground with a tiny round door?” he asks.
I slam the car in park as I look over at him. “Ha ha. It’s not a hobbit house,” I say.
He grins. “Well, I just thought that’s where you’d be most comfortable.”
“Again, I am not the size of a hobbit.”
I notice the realtor get out of her car and wave to us, so I smile and wave back.
“Come on,” I say as I get out.
I walk around to Lane’s side of the car as he gets out. Opening the back door of the car, I call Copper out before reaching in for his leather harness which I press into Lane’s hands. We’ve only started working with the harness, so Lane’s still a little uncertain of it. He feels it over to make sure he has it facing the right way before holding it out and, without prompt, Copper pops his head through the harness. Since Lane is still trying to juggle the harness, the dog, and the leash, he fumbles for the clicker Ned gave us. When clicked, the noise signals positive reinforcement so the dog knows that he did the correct thing, and then he gets a treat.
I could help, but Copper patiently waits until Lane finds the clicker, hits it, and then gives him a treat.
“This is a mess,” Lane says as he just drops Copper’s leash. “I can never find this stupid clicker. The dog probably thinks it’s getting the click and treat for just standing there.”
Reaching down, I unhook the leash and toss it into the backseat. “What if I find a way to strap it to your belt or something? That way it’s always in the same spot, because I’ve literally seen you stick it in your pants, your coat, the treat bag, and the pouch on the harness.”
“Good idea,” he says as he reaches down to Copper and feels him over before running the strap of the harness between his legs and hooking it. “Is it on right?”
It looks good to me, so I shrug. “Yup, let’s go,” I say as I walk up to the realtor. Today is our third time meeting and the second time she has shown us houses.
“Good afternoon,” the realtor says with a smile. She’s an older lady with gray hair that looks like a ball of cotton on her head. “I really think you guys will like this one. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. I think you guys were leaning toward more of an open plan and that is what this is.”
She heads for the front door, and Lane tells Copper to “follow.”’ He doesn’t miss a beat as he starts following the realtor. Whether it’s because he really understands the command or because I’m walking with them and he just wants to follow me, I don’t know. But we rave how smart he is and give him a treat which he swallows without chewing.
The realtor unlocks the door and pushes it open before walking inside. I shut it after us and look around the living room.
“The living room, dining room, and kitchen are all one big room which I think you’ll like, Lane. It gives you plenty of nice open space, and you don’t have to worry about walls or steps.”
I’ve been inside for a total of twenty seconds, and I’m already in love. “Do you think Lane and I could just walk through it?” I say. “Then you can tell us all of the specifications?”
“Of course!” she says. “I’ll step outside and check out the garage. You let me know when you’re ready.”
As soon as she leaves, I reach out for Lane’s free hand. When he feels the nudge of my hand, he holds his out and I slide my fingers between his, gripping them tightly.
“You like it, don’t you?” Lane asks as he squeezes back.
“I love it,” I admit. “As you walk in, it opens right up into the living room. They have their couch pushed back against the wall here with one of those electric fireplaces in the corner. Stone surrounds it, and there’s a wooden mantel above it. To the right of it, they have their TV which I think is really the only good spot for it. Then as you walk in further, it opens up into the dining room. There’s a table here, but to its right is this little alcove with a big bay window and a bench big enough to lie on.”
“Oh yeah, that’d be a nice spot for reading.”
“Oh…yeah…that’s what I was planning on doing there,” I say and Lane snorts.
“Oh? Have a better idea?” he asks as he waggles his eyebrows.
“Yeah, like stuff my face with your mom’s cookies.”
“Yeah…that’s definitely not where I thought you were going with it. Just really put a damper on my idea when you started with ‘stuff my face with your mom.’”
I laugh. “Gross. So…back with the tour now that I feel nauseous…here’s the kitchen. The counters are all along this wall, but there’s a bar here with stools.”
I turn to the hallway and head down it. “First room on the left is the bathroom. Pretty simple really, sink and toilet on the left and the bathtub on the right.” We leave the bathroom, and I take him into the first room which they’re using as a kid’s bedroom. “Bedroom, looks like we could use it as an office or something. The walls are a pretty nice black too.”
“Oh? Kind of like your heart?”
“That must be why I feel at home in here.” I head into the master bedroom and look around the roomy space. “It’s huge. You could fit like…five of my bedrooms as a kid in here!”
“That’s because you lived in a little hobbit hole.”
“Funny.”
He grins. “Then the second bathroom is off this room?”
“Yeah, it’s right over here,” I say as I lead him into the bathroom. “There’s a whirlpool tub.”
“Ooh.”
“And it’s big enough for like three men,” I say.
“Three?” he asks skeptically. “Why would we need three?”
“What? Who said that?”
He laughs. “I’m not worried.”
“So, what do you think?” I ask eagerly.
“If you like it, then I know I will,” he says.
I don’t know why those words make me so happy, but I can’t help but grin. “You’re so sweet.”
“No, I just want your first experience outside a hobbit hole to be a good one.”
“Oh…Oh ho…well, I’m leaving. I’m going to go tell your mom you got lost, and we’ll probably never find you again and that she might as well adopt me to take your place,” I say, and he grins as he reaches out to me.
He wraps me in his muscular arms and pulls me up against him. “You’d miss me,” he says.
“Just your muscles…them I would miss,” I say as I run my finger down one. “Sure wouldn’t be your horrid personality.”
He kisses my forehead as he squeezes me tighter. “So? You like this one the best?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s talk to her and put an offer in on it, alright?”
“Sounds good. I offer five dollars, you offer the rest?” I suggest as I look up at him.
He looks surprised. “Five? That’s a whole lot more than I thought you’d offer.”
“Oh, it was the five dollars I took from your wallet, so that’s why.”
“Of course it was.”
“I’ve been slowly replacing the money in your wallet with Monopoly money and pretty much everyone just feels bad for you, so they let you get away with it.”
“The thing is…I’m not sure that’s even a joke. You’ve been folding my money up like origami, and it’s confusing as hell.”
“It’s not origami! It’s like…blind people tricks,” I say.
“One day you’re like, the one dollar bill is the long one then the next, the ten is the long one,” he says.
“Your long one is a ten,” I say with a grin.
“I walked right into that,” he realizes before laughing. “Go get the realtor.”
“Going, going,” I say as I pull away from him. “If I don’t come back, see if this family will adopt you…I’ll take really good care of your mother!”
Leaving Lane behind, I step outside and see the realtor messing with something in the backseat of her car. I take the concrete path out to the sidewalk, and as I step onto it, someone slams into me. I must not have seen him because I’d been focused on the realtor, but the force sends me stumbling back.
“Be careful,” he says, just above a whisper as he steps past.
“Sorry about that,” I say as I look back at the guy. His back is to me, and his hood is up as he waves his hand through the air before continuing on.
For a moment I just watch him, but I don’t know why. I’m so paranoid after the shit with Red. Like someone’s going to grab me and drag me back into an alleyway to threaten me again. I need to get the stuff that happened with Red out of my mind and move on with my life. Hopefully, this house is the fresh start I need so I can stop being suspicious of everything.
“How did you like the house?” the realtor shouts as she realizes I’m outside.
I look away from the man and smile at her. “Definitely our favorite so far.”
I don’t know where he is, but I can’t get up. I can’t move.
“Lane!”
I might die here if he doesn’t reach me in time.
“What?” he asks as he steps into the living room. He’s a little hesitant as he walks in since he’s still trying to remember where everything is in his parents’ house. Even though he lived in this house as a child, it’s been hard for him to remember the placement of everything now that he can’t see any of it. Probably because he’s so old it feels like a lifetime ago that he lived here.
“What happened?” he asks.
“I ate so much that I can’t move,” I moan from where I lay on the couch. I peek over the armrest to get a good look at him. The first thing I notice isn’t his handsome face covered in just the right amount of stubble. It isn’t the sunglasses that he insists on wearing even when we’re at home. Nor is it his dark brown hair that seems to have a mind of its own. What I do notice is how sweaty he is. He’d been working out on the treadmill in the basement, and now his clothes are sticking to his chest, giving me a very nice view of his muscular frame. “Why is your mother’s cooking so good, Lane?”
He shakes his head, clearly disbelieving the fact that I may die after consuming too much food. “You’re going to turn into an Oompa Loompa if you don’t slow down,” he says.
I snort. “Thanks Lane, you’re the sweetest. I love you the most!” I say sarcastically.
“You do understand that just because she cooks it, doesn’t mean you have to eat all of it, right?” he asks as he slowly walks further into the room.
“It’s like hibernation. I’m creating a fat storage for when we move out and have to go back to starving,” I explain since my cooking is anything but edible. With a yawn, I stretch out my arms just as he touches the back of the couch.
“Well, you’re doing a splendid job of it because I went in to grab a cookie, and the cookie jar is empty. How many did you eat today?”
I watch his handsome face as he leans over me. He may not be able to see me, but he sure can scrutinize me when he thinks I’m not being honest. But I notice that there’s a slight upturn to his lips that makes it hard to keep my grin at bay. I kind of want to lean forward and capture those lips as my own.
“How many what?” I ask innocently. I’m not sure how he could point fingers at me when there are two other people staying in this house.
“How many cookies have you eaten?”
“In the past…five minutes? Or today?”
“Just choose.”
“Lane, I don’t like you making me feel bad about myself,” I say as I push my blond hair out of my face. Lane reaches down and touches my chest before feeling his way to my stomach and patting it.
He looks thoughtful as he feels it over. “That’s weird…it’s about the same size as the cookie jar,” he says.
I laugh and push his hand away. “No! Your mom said I could have them!”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “I heard the phone ring, who called you?”
I sit up as I grimace. “The realtor called, but I told her that we don’t need any of the lies she’s selling.”
“A house? The lie of a house?” he asks.
“Lane…I don’t want to leave,” I say as I look around the quaint living room with its walls smothered in pictures of the family.
If there is a span of the wall twelve inches wide that isn’t covered by a picture of someone in this family, then I’d be willing to bet my right hand that the photo fell down and Lane’s mother hasn’t gotten to putting it back up. It was cute when I first walked in, especially getting to see all the photographs of a young Lane, but the family photo in the bathroom that I have to look at while taking a shit is a bit too much. Yesterday I put a post-it note over everyone’s face in the photograph, and the others must think it’s an improvement because no one’s fixed it yet. Besides the family pictures, there are way too many sunflower decorations, but if I’m being honest, I love every inch of it. Even the picture in the bathroom.
“We can’t live with my parents,” he says.
“Says who? You? Because your mom said we can live with her forever, and I think she meant it.”
He grins as he shakes his head. “She was just being polite.”
“Lane…she loves me,” I say defensively. “Yesterday she bought me Gushers. Have you ever heard of those things? They’re like…gooey on the inside and absolutely amazing.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of Gushers before. So what time are we meeting her?”
“Three,” I say grudgingly. “We’ll leave in about twenty minutes to pick up Copper.”
“Then I better go get a shower,” he says as I stand up. “Can you pick my clothes out for me so we can keep moving?”
“Sure,” I say as I stretch again. These past few weeks have been good to me even though my body has begun to complain about inactivity.
“Thanks,” he says as he reaches for me, most likely to hug me, but I dodge him like the plague.
“I love you, Lane, really I do, but right now you’re past the point of attractive and into the field of disgusting. Way too sweaty,” I say with a grimace because I feel like we are definitely at a good enough point in our relationship where I can tell him how disgusting he is. He’s past the sexy, slightly sweaty version and into the disgusting, don’t touch me version.
“You won’t hug me?” he asks, looking offended.
I can tell he’s joking, but I wrinkle my nose as I stare at him. “Absolutely not.”
“Really,” he says, like his feelings are hurt. “Come on. Give me a hug.” He grabs for me so I scamper away.
“No! Go away!” I say. “I’m getting changed.”
“What? You mean you’re actually going to get out of your pajamas?”
“I feel like you’re being very critical when I’ve needed this time to recover,” I say. “I need to recover from all the shootings, the running, and all that other junk I would like to never think about again.”
“You act like we’ve only been here a couple of weeks. You’ve had a lot of time to recover.”
“Lane,” I say warningly.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure you look very sexy in those pajama pants,” he says.
“They’re your mom’s, so thanks,” I say.
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” he says as his eyebrows furrow.
I laugh and head back for his bedroom.
*****
I pull up to a small brick building with a large painting of a dog overlapping the door. It’s neat until someone opens the door, then it looks like the dog has a big gaping hole in its face.
“I’ll run in and get him since whenever Ned gets a hold of you, he won’t shut up,” I say.
“Good plan,” Lane says, so I get out, leaving the car running.
We had decided that instead of getting Lane a different dog, we would use our dog Copper as a service dog. Since Copper had been trained to be a police dog when he was young, he already has a large range of commands and knowledge. So, a man who works with service dogs agreed to do some private training with him. It was also easier to get Copper registered as a service dog than to get on the waiting list for a trained one, so now all we need to do is teach him a few of the commands.
This is Copper’s fourth week working with Ned, and I’m already not really fond of the man. He’s amazing with Copper, but I’m not sure he likes me or maybe we have a difference of opinion. I drop Copper off in the morning and pick him up later in the day at least three times a week, and he works with him throughout the day. I miss my little Copper when he’s gone, and Lane has to remind me that I have to share Copper when he returns.
I push through the door, into the office area and walk inside to where I notice Ned rushing on by. He’s a lanky man who seems to have one speed.
“Hey, Felix!” he says sounding joyful, like he’s forgotten that the last time he saw me, he chewed me out.
“Hey,” I say with a forced smile. I do not forgive as quickly. “Copper good?”
“He’s fantastic. He picks everything up with ease, and you can tell he loves having a job. At home, I still want you guys just to be working on that follow command. He understands it pretty well, but don’t forget that when he follows, you click and reward.”
“Got it. That’s awesome to hear,” I say with a smile.
“I’ll go get Copper,” he says before disappearing through the open door. He returns after a few minutes with the black German shepherd at his side.
Copper’s tail starts going a hundred miles an hour when he sees me, and no matter how much I want to drop to my knees and pet him, I’m not allowed to say anything to him. The first time we came to pick him up, I greeted Copper with love which in Ned’s eyes is a “preposterous” thing to do. He assured me that I would ruin the dog by giving him such joyous affection as soon as I see him, so I keep my eyes on Ned and take the leash without a word to Copper.
I see Copper’s tail begin to slow as he looks up at me in devastation, black ears falling like he thinks I’m upset with him. “Thanks,” I say grudgingly.
“See how much calmer and wellbehaved he is when you greet him properly?” Ned asks.
“Totally,” I lie as I lead Copper to the door. “See you Monday.”
“Have a good night.”
“Thanks, you too,” I say as I lead Copper out to the blue four-door car. I open the back door and send him inside before getting into the driver’s seat. Then I turn to Copper who is already crawling over the middle console onto my lap. “Aw, my sweetie pie. Did you have fun today?” I coo, and his entire body wiggles as his tail whaps Lane mercilessly across the face.
Lane laughs as he pushes Copper’s tail down. “Didn’t he tell you to stop babying that dog?”
“Yeah, well…he clearly doesn’t understand love,” I say as I glance up at the building and see Ned standing in the doorway, watching my deplorable display of affection.
“Shit, shit, Ned’s watching us, Copper, get back,” I say as I shove him in the back. “Play it cool.” I wave to Ned who is staring at me with clear disapproval on his face. “I think he’s pretending like he doesn’t see me.”
“Now I’m going to have to hear all about it when I see him again,” Lane says.
“Oh well,” I say as I put the car in drive and gladly pull out of the parking lot. Even when it’s long behind me, I can still feel Ned’s stare and judgment.
I glance down at the GPS as I turn out onto Main Street. “You sure we can’t live with your mother forever?”
“I lived with her for twenty years, it was enough,” he says. “We need to get a house.”
“We do?” I ask skeptically. “Last I checked, I definitely don’t have enough money to buy a house. Or do you mean you’ll buy it, and I’ll just live in it and mooch off you?”
He nods. “Yeah, that one.”
I grin as I turn where the GPS tells me to. “Yeah…I thought so.”
“You can work it off,” he says.
“Oh, you mean like sexy time,” I say with a grin.
“No, like by cleaning and taking care of the lawn and stuff.”
“What else would I have meant by sexy time?” I ask. “You should see the way I tug on that push mower.”
He looks slightly concerned when I glance at him. “Hmm…is that supposed to be sexy? Sometimes I really can’t tell with you.”
“Good, I like you on your toes,” I say.
“Your destination is on the right…”
“Here we are,” I say as I pull into the driveway of a gorgeous one-story home. “Ooh…I like it.”
“Why? Is it just like a little hole in the ground with a tiny round door?” he asks.
I slam the car in park as I look over at him. “Ha ha. It’s not a hobbit house,” I say.
He grins. “Well, I just thought that’s where you’d be most comfortable.”
“Again, I am not the size of a hobbit.”
I notice the realtor get out of her car and wave to us, so I smile and wave back.
“Come on,” I say as I get out.
I walk around to Lane’s side of the car as he gets out. Opening the back door of the car, I call Copper out before reaching in for his leather harness which I press into Lane’s hands. We’ve only started working with the harness, so Lane’s still a little uncertain of it. He feels it over to make sure he has it facing the right way before holding it out and, without prompt, Copper pops his head through the harness. Since Lane is still trying to juggle the harness, the dog, and the leash, he fumbles for the clicker Ned gave us. When clicked, the noise signals positive reinforcement so the dog knows that he did the correct thing, and then he gets a treat.
I could help, but Copper patiently waits until Lane finds the clicker, hits it, and then gives him a treat.
“This is a mess,” Lane says as he just drops Copper’s leash. “I can never find this stupid clicker. The dog probably thinks it’s getting the click and treat for just standing there.”
Reaching down, I unhook the leash and toss it into the backseat. “What if I find a way to strap it to your belt or something? That way it’s always in the same spot, because I’ve literally seen you stick it in your pants, your coat, the treat bag, and the pouch on the harness.”
“Good idea,” he says as he reaches down to Copper and feels him over before running the strap of the harness between his legs and hooking it. “Is it on right?”
It looks good to me, so I shrug. “Yup, let’s go,” I say as I walk up to the realtor. Today is our third time meeting and the second time she has shown us houses.
“Good afternoon,” the realtor says with a smile. She’s an older lady with gray hair that looks like a ball of cotton on her head. “I really think you guys will like this one. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. I think you guys were leaning toward more of an open plan and that is what this is.”
She heads for the front door, and Lane tells Copper to “follow.”’ He doesn’t miss a beat as he starts following the realtor. Whether it’s because he really understands the command or because I’m walking with them and he just wants to follow me, I don’t know. But we rave how smart he is and give him a treat which he swallows without chewing.
The realtor unlocks the door and pushes it open before walking inside. I shut it after us and look around the living room.
“The living room, dining room, and kitchen are all one big room which I think you’ll like, Lane. It gives you plenty of nice open space, and you don’t have to worry about walls or steps.”
I’ve been inside for a total of twenty seconds, and I’m already in love. “Do you think Lane and I could just walk through it?” I say. “Then you can tell us all of the specifications?”
“Of course!” she says. “I’ll step outside and check out the garage. You let me know when you’re ready.”
As soon as she leaves, I reach out for Lane’s free hand. When he feels the nudge of my hand, he holds his out and I slide my fingers between his, gripping them tightly.
“You like it, don’t you?” Lane asks as he squeezes back.
“I love it,” I admit. “As you walk in, it opens right up into the living room. They have their couch pushed back against the wall here with one of those electric fireplaces in the corner. Stone surrounds it, and there’s a wooden mantel above it. To the right of it, they have their TV which I think is really the only good spot for it. Then as you walk in further, it opens up into the dining room. There’s a table here, but to its right is this little alcove with a big bay window and a bench big enough to lie on.”
“Oh yeah, that’d be a nice spot for reading.”
“Oh…yeah…that’s what I was planning on doing there,” I say and Lane snorts.
“Oh? Have a better idea?” he asks as he waggles his eyebrows.
“Yeah, like stuff my face with your mom’s cookies.”
“Yeah…that’s definitely not where I thought you were going with it. Just really put a damper on my idea when you started with ‘stuff my face with your mom.’”
I laugh. “Gross. So…back with the tour now that I feel nauseous…here’s the kitchen. The counters are all along this wall, but there’s a bar here with stools.”
I turn to the hallway and head down it. “First room on the left is the bathroom. Pretty simple really, sink and toilet on the left and the bathtub on the right.” We leave the bathroom, and I take him into the first room which they’re using as a kid’s bedroom. “Bedroom, looks like we could use it as an office or something. The walls are a pretty nice black too.”
“Oh? Kind of like your heart?”
“That must be why I feel at home in here.” I head into the master bedroom and look around the roomy space. “It’s huge. You could fit like…five of my bedrooms as a kid in here!”
“That’s because you lived in a little hobbit hole.”
“Funny.”
He grins. “Then the second bathroom is off this room?”
“Yeah, it’s right over here,” I say as I lead him into the bathroom. “There’s a whirlpool tub.”
“Ooh.”
“And it’s big enough for like three men,” I say.
“Three?” he asks skeptically. “Why would we need three?”
“What? Who said that?”
He laughs. “I’m not worried.”
“So, what do you think?” I ask eagerly.
“If you like it, then I know I will,” he says.
I don’t know why those words make me so happy, but I can’t help but grin. “You’re so sweet.”
“No, I just want your first experience outside a hobbit hole to be a good one.”
“Oh…Oh ho…well, I’m leaving. I’m going to go tell your mom you got lost, and we’ll probably never find you again and that she might as well adopt me to take your place,” I say, and he grins as he reaches out to me.
He wraps me in his muscular arms and pulls me up against him. “You’d miss me,” he says.
“Just your muscles…them I would miss,” I say as I run my finger down one. “Sure wouldn’t be your horrid personality.”
He kisses my forehead as he squeezes me tighter. “So? You like this one the best?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s talk to her and put an offer in on it, alright?”
“Sounds good. I offer five dollars, you offer the rest?” I suggest as I look up at him.
He looks surprised. “Five? That’s a whole lot more than I thought you’d offer.”
“Oh, it was the five dollars I took from your wallet, so that’s why.”
“Of course it was.”
“I’ve been slowly replacing the money in your wallet with Monopoly money and pretty much everyone just feels bad for you, so they let you get away with it.”
“The thing is…I’m not sure that’s even a joke. You’ve been folding my money up like origami, and it’s confusing as hell.”
“It’s not origami! It’s like…blind people tricks,” I say.
“One day you’re like, the one dollar bill is the long one then the next, the ten is the long one,” he says.
“Your long one is a ten,” I say with a grin.
“I walked right into that,” he realizes before laughing. “Go get the realtor.”
“Going, going,” I say as I pull away from him. “If I don’t come back, see if this family will adopt you…I’ll take really good care of your mother!”
Leaving Lane behind, I step outside and see the realtor messing with something in the backseat of her car. I take the concrete path out to the sidewalk, and as I step onto it, someone slams into me. I must not have seen him because I’d been focused on the realtor, but the force sends me stumbling back.
“Be careful,” he says, just above a whisper as he steps past.
“Sorry about that,” I say as I look back at the guy. His back is to me, and his hood is up as he waves his hand through the air before continuing on.
For a moment I just watch him, but I don’t know why. I’m so paranoid after the shit with Red. Like someone’s going to grab me and drag me back into an alleyway to threaten me again. I need to get the stuff that happened with Red out of my mind and move on with my life. Hopefully, this house is the fresh start I need so I can stop being suspicious of everything.
“How did you like the house?” the realtor shouts as she realizes I’m outside.
I look away from the man and smile at her. “Definitely our favorite so far.”
Raven's Hart by Davidson King
A light tap caught my attention, and I looked up to see Tony and Snow standing there. Snow, ever his curious self, was looking up, down, and around, absorbing it all, never to forget.
“Thank you, Tony, I’d like to speak with Snow alone, and then perhaps, if he has further questions pertaining to security and what you know, the two of you can talk later.”
“Okay, holler if you need me.” He smiled at Snow who nodded, and then left the room.
It wasn’t so much an uncomfortable silence as it was worrisome. Snow wasn’t a quiet person. He spoke up for everything he believed in, and on many occasions, gave me a good tongue lashing. To see him walking through my office and not making eye contact with me was jarring.
“Snow?” He jumped when I spoke but turned my way. “Would you like a drink?”
He chuckled, but it held very little humor. “What’s the strongest thing you’ve got?”
Ahh, so he was having trouble with all this. Understandable. I walked over to the small cart with some beverages and poured us each a Jack and ginger ale. I knew he didn’t like drinking because of his father, but he wasn’t kidding that he wanted a drink.
“Thanks,” he said as he took the drink and sipped it. “So, this is really weird.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Did you read my note?”
He rolled his eyes at my obviously stupid question. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. You have Jason Momoa over there come to my house, tell me he can’t say much but to read this thing and to follow him. You’re lucky Christopher wasn’t home, or Bill for that matter, or I wouldn’t have been able to sweet talk Donny into trusting my life choices and going with Aquaman.”
“Thank you, Tony, I’d like to speak with Snow alone, and then perhaps, if he has further questions pertaining to security and what you know, the two of you can talk later.”
“Okay, holler if you need me.” He smiled at Snow who nodded, and then left the room.
It wasn’t so much an uncomfortable silence as it was worrisome. Snow wasn’t a quiet person. He spoke up for everything he believed in, and on many occasions, gave me a good tongue lashing. To see him walking through my office and not making eye contact with me was jarring.
“Snow?” He jumped when I spoke but turned my way. “Would you like a drink?”
He chuckled, but it held very little humor. “What’s the strongest thing you’ve got?”
Ahh, so he was having trouble with all this. Understandable. I walked over to the small cart with some beverages and poured us each a Jack and ginger ale. I knew he didn’t like drinking because of his father, but he wasn’t kidding that he wanted a drink.
“Thanks,” he said as he took the drink and sipped it. “So, this is really weird.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Did you read my note?”
He rolled his eyes at my obviously stupid question. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. You have Jason Momoa over there come to my house, tell me he can’t say much but to read this thing and to follow him. You’re lucky Christopher wasn’t home, or Bill for that matter, or I wouldn’t have been able to sweet talk Donny into trusting my life choices and going with Aquaman.”
Slay Ride by Josh Lanyon
Chapter One
Maybe Tom Finney’s phone call was a blessing in disguise.
Robert was having an early dinner at the home of Sheriff’s Deputy Clinton Dooley’s widow. Dooley had been shot to death on Mill Creek Road six months earlier, and it was a god-awful Christmas for Mabel and the three little girls.
But then, with the war on and so many families missing loved ones, it was a god-awful Christmas for everyone. Joey, Robert’s kid brother, had been killed in the Pacific the previous spring. The Pacific was where Robert had nearly lost his right leg the January before that. There wasn’t a family in Bolt that hadn’t been touched by the war. In fact, there probably wasn’t a family in Montana or maybe the whole of the United States that hadn’t felt the brush of that icy finger.
Robert was doing his best to bring a little holiday cheer to the proceedings. Mabel was swell. He’d been to school with her, had even thought about asking her to marry him at one time. But somehow, he’d never gotten around to it, whereas Clint Dooley had. Now Dooley was dead, shot one night on a country back road by a nameless assailant, and Mabel was making a brave effort not to cry into the mashed potatoes.
When he was done failing to comfort the Dooley girls, Robert was supposed to head over to his mother’s house, where his kith and kin would make their own brave effort not to notice the empty place at the table.
So yes, in a funny way, Officer Finney’s phone call was a relief.
“Chief, I just got a call from Eugene Boswell, the assistant manager of the Safeway over on Harrison Avenue. He claims there’s some bird holed up at the Knight’s Arms, waving a roscoe around and squawking about bumping off his girlfriend.”
“Knight’s Arms. That’s the place on Main Street?” Robert asked. And then, suspiciously, “How would Eugene Boswell know what’s going on in the Knight’s Arms?” Finney had a fondness for practical jokes, and was known to celebrate the holidays, every holiday known to man—including some that hadn’t been thought of yet—with a nip or two.
But Finney sounded cold sober when he replied, “Boswell was over there having dinner at his mother-in-law’s apartment when a gal burst in, followed by this Harold Braun. Braun said he had three bullets, two for the dame and one for himself. While the women were trying to reason with him, Boswell scrammed across the street to the Scandia Bar and called us. He said Braun’s not fooling.”
“On my way. I’ll meet you in front of the Knight’s Arms.” Robert hung up and turned to find Mabel standing in the doorway holding his hat and coat. Her pretty face was pale. She was a tall, thin blonde with a spatter of golden freckles across an upturned nose. In the old days, she had always laughed a lot.
“Trouble?” she asked. She had been a lawman’s wife for nearly a decade.
Robert nodded. “Sounds that way. I’m sorry about dinner.”
Mabel brushed aside the mention of the meal on which she had used up so many of her ration coupons and worked so hard to prepare. “Be careful, Robert.”
“Sure,” Robert said easily. “I’m not the heroic type.”
“Not you,” Mabel agreed. “Not being heroic is how you got shot in the Philippines.”
“Everybody got shot, so that doesn’t count.” Robert shrugged into his coat, took his hat, and limped toward the front door. “Anyway, it was my leg that got shot, not my Philippines. My Philippines still work fine.”
Mabel laughed shakily. “If you can come back later, do. I’ll save you a slice of mince pie.”
“I can’t promise, but if I can, I will.”
She was still standing in the doorway, framed in cozy lamplight and hugging herself against the cold, when he climbed into his car and pulled away from the curb.
* * * * *
A handful of snowflakes drifted down as Robert parked behind the Scandia. He got his pistol out of the glove box and climbed out of the car. His leg ached in the damp winter air. But then, his leg always ached now.
Christmas lights strung across the windows of the bar cast watery blue and red and green smears on the black, shining street as he hurried across to where Finney and O’Hara were pacing in front of the brick apartment building. There was a third man with them, young, sandy and balding, plump as a pigeon, in a dark overcoat. That would be Boswell, the grocery store assistant manager, and Robert automatically wondered why he wasn’t in the army or some other branch of the service.
“Chief, we were just about to go in,” Finney said as Robert reached them. Finney was in his forties, short, wiry, hair prematurely white. He always reminded Robert of a smooth-haired fox terrier. Now he was almost quivering, like a dog tugging at a leash.
O’Hara was older than Finney. He was big—tall and broad—with a head of curly and startlingly dark hair. He hooked a thumb back at the trio of men hovering just out of earshot, and said, “The newshounds say they heard a shot right before we arrived.”
Newshounds? Robert swore inwardly. It had taken him less than five minutes from receiving Finney’s phone call to get over to Main Street, and he had been relieved to see there wasn’t much of a crowd gathered yet. But now that he took a closer look, he saw that the three men lurking a few feet away near scraggly shrubbery were not casual bystanders. One of them, a kid with a shock of white-blond hair, held a camera. Robert recognized the second man as Earl Arthur from the Montana Standard. And the third man… His heart jumped at the sight of that tall, lanky figure with the untidy chestnut hair.
Jamie.
He hadn’t seen Jamie—James Jameson—since Joey’s funeral, but he’d been on Robert’s mind the past few days. Ever since Officer Alf Davies had told him Jamie had traveled to Great Falls and tried yet again to enlist. With the same results as before. 4F. Weak lungs. There were worse things. A lot worse things, as Robert would have liked to remind him, but somehow he hadn’t gotten around to it, and now here was Jamie gazing back at him, eager and alert, hazel eyes shining like Santa had brought him a brand-new bicycle that very morning.
How old was he now? Twenty-one? Twenty-two? No. Twenty-three. Same age as Joey would have been. Why kid himself he didn’t know? Not like he would ever forget the year Jamie turned sixteen—and a stolen kiss at a birthday party.
Remembering that Jamie now worked for the Bolt Daily Banner, Robert groaned inwardly. He turned his back on Jamie and the other newshounds. Another snowflake drifted down and melted as it brushed his skin.
“He’s crazy,” Boswell was saying between chattering teeth. “He’s going to kill that woman. My wife’s still up there.”
Finney and O’Hara were only waiting for his word. Robert pulled his pistol from his belt. “How many people are in the apartment?”
“My wife, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Mileur, and her sister.”
“That’s four. Which apartment?”
“Top floor. First one on the left. I can show you.”
Robert nodded. “Good man.”
Finney sprang for the front door. The reporters moved to follow. Robert turned back to them. “Not a chance. You boys wait here.”
Jamie and the pup with the camera burst into protest. Arthur, older, harder, or just lazier, waved them on. Robert ignored them all, following his men and Boswell up the slick wooden steps and through a pair of tall white doors with oval panes of etched glass.
Inside, the building was warm and smelled of a dozen cooking Christmas dinners. Delicious and comfortable scents of roasting turkey and baking pies. The halls smelled the way the world used to smell before Herr Hitler came goose-stepping along.
Bing Crosby’s voice floated from beneath one closed door. “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” But a few million people would not be home for Christmas. Would not be home ever.
Boswell rushed up the staircase, feet pounding, and Robert followed. His leg twinged in painful protest. Behind him, Finney and O’Hara made enough noise for a herd of elephants as they crashed after him up the carpeted steps.
As they reached the top floor, the sound of a woman sobbing reached their ears. All else was eerily silent.
“Anne!” gasped Boswell, starting forward.
“Wait.” Robert grabbed Boswell’s arm. “Stay here.” He went past the other man, moving quietly, cautiously down the hall. The line of doors stayed closed, all but the last. That one stood ajar, and through the opening he could hear voices. Women’s voices.
A floorboard squeaked beneath his foot. Robert paused. O’Hara breathed heavily down the back of his neck.
Robert’s heart was fast, but that was just adrenaline, readiness for action. He didn’t figure he’d ever feel real fear again. Not after Bataan.
He could feel Boswell’s anxious impatience from down the hall, but he wasn’t going to be rushed.
When no one charged out of the apartment at them, Robert reached the half open door and pushed it wide.
He could see his reflection—Finney and O’Hara hovering behind him—in a long mirror hanging over a white and green flowered sofa. A string of Christmas cards hung across a doorway leading into another room. A small Christmas tree sat on three-tiered table. Its silver star was crooked.
There were four women in the room. One woman slumped in a chair while two others worked over her bloodied form. A fourth woman in a red dress sat on the sofa, weeping into her hands. There was no sign of anyone else.
“Where is he?” demanded Robert, and the weeping woman looked up and screamed.
Boswell charged past Robert, nearly knocking him over in his haste. “Anne!”
“Oh, Gene!” The woman in the red dress threw herself in her husband’s arms. “Mrs. Mileur’s been shot. She was struggling with that maniac for the gun, and the gun went off. He shot her!”
“There, there, honey,” Boswell said, clasping her tight.
“You’re no doctor.” A white-haired woman, older than the others, stared at Robert.
“We’re the police.” It seemed pretty obvious to Robert, but maybe not to the woman. “I’m Chief Garrett.”
She demanded, “Then where’s the doctor?”
Robert opened his mouth.
“I’m all right.” The blood-stained woman, Mrs. Mileur, suddenly sat up, startling them all. “The bullet just nicked me.”
She was about forty, with brown hair and blue eyes. Blood soaked the white lacy collar of her navy-blue dress, but she seemed alert enough. She was holding a makeshift bandage to the side of her neck.
The second woman attending to her was younger than the rest of them, dark-haired, and very pretty. Her voice wobbled as she said, “The bullet grazed your throat, Alice. He nearly killed you.” She gulped. “And all because of me.”
“What do you mean because of you?” Robert asked. “Who are you?”
Her blue eyes were angry—and afraid. “I’m Jean McDuffy. Alice’s sister. I was…well, I used to go with Harry. Harold Braun. He was mad at me. That’s what all this was about.”
Finney said, “Why was he mad at you?”
“Because I wouldn’t take the dirty gifts he bought with his dirty blood money!”
“You’re not to blame for anything he did.” Alice Mileur glared at Finney as though he had suggested otherwise.
“Oh, Gene, I want to go home,” Mrs. Boswell sobbed.
“Sure, honey. Sure, we’ll go right away.”
“Nobody’s going anywhere,” Robert said. “There are questions that have to be answered.”
“This woman needs a doctor,” the white-haired lady informed him while at the same time Jean replied to her sister, “You warned me he was no good. I guess I thought I knew better—”
“Never mind all that now. Where’s Braun?” Robert had to raise his voice to be heard over the din of everyone talking at once. “Where did he go?”
The white-haired woman answered. “He ran downstairs. He must’ve thought he’d killed Mrs. Mileur.”
The injured woman said with reassuring vigor, “He meant to kill Jean, and no thanks to him, he didn’t. He lives in an apartment in the rear of the building, by the door to the cellar. I should have thrown him out weeks ago.”
“You’re the manager of this place?”
“Yes.”
“Does Braun live alone?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you now he’s a chicken thief and a hophead. Don’t trust him for a second.”
“It’s my fault,” Jean said again. “This is all my fault.”
“Be quiet, Jean. The only thing you’re to blame for is having lousy taste in men.”
“Nobody leaves this apartment. Boswell, lock the door after us.” Robert turned back to O’Hara and Finney. “Come on. Downstairs.”
A chicken thief and a hophead. Well, it could be worse. It nearly had been. A lot worse.
He pounded back down the staircase, Finney and O’Hara on his heels.
There was a good chance Braun had already fled the premises. In fact, if he had any brains, that’s exactly what he’d have done, but if he was hopped up on dope, all bets were off. He might be sitting there waiting quietly for them to arrest him. Or he might be planning to ambush them from around the next corner.
Cautiously, Robert and his men made their way down a narrow hall. No ambush materialized.
They passed the battered door to the cellar and lined up outside Braun’s rooms.
There was no sound from within.
Robert nodded at Finney. Finney pounded the door with his fist.
“Police! Open up!”
The door did not open. There was only silence.
Robert touched the round doorknob. The door swung silently open.
“Careful, boys,” Robert whispered.
Pistols at ready, the three men entered the apartment. The blinds were drawn and the room was in darkness.
“He’s gone,” Finney said. “He must have lit out.”
Robert felt through the gloom for a lamp.
“There’s another room here,” O’Hara’s voice floated through the blackout.
There was a squeak of hinges, the gloom wavered as a door opened, and too late Robert saw white muzzle flash and heard the blast of Braun’s revolver.
O’Hara cried out. The lamp flared on just as there was another flash and another loud bang. Robert glimpsed the nightmarish vision of Finney crashing into the wall, firing at the open bedroom door.
Robert didn’t remember turning the lamp out again, but the room fell back into blackness as he dived for the floor.
Braun was still shooting, and Robert returned his fire. He could hear Finney groaning and swearing, and for one crazy, confused moment he thought he was back on Luzon, under fire from the Japs. He had fallen badly on his leg, and it was throbbing like he’d been shot all over again, but that was the least of his problems.
Swift footsteps approached, someone running toward Braun’s apartment, and to Robert’s horror, a voice he would have known anywhere called, “Rob? Chief Garrett?”
So much for the comfortable notion he would never feel real fear again. Terror squeezed his heart, squeezed his lungs as he yelled, “Jamie, stay the hell out of here.”
He listened, ears straining.
Braun had stopped firing.
Had he managed to hit Braun in the dark? Robert didn’t think so. More likely, Braun was hoping to slip into the front room and pop him. He kept his gaze trained on the slit of faded light between the dark living room and the bedroom.
Jamie hovered outside the apartment doorway. Robert knew it, could feel it in his bones, but he didn’t dare call out again, didn’t dare draw Braun’s attention to Jamie. Finney was still groaning.
“O’Hara?” Robert tried.
There was no answer. Rather, that deadly stillness from the spot O’Hara had fallen was the answer.
“How bad are you hit, Tom?” Robert called.
Finney stopped moaning. He choked out, “The sonofabitch chicken thief got me in the right shoulder. And my left arm.”
“Did he get you, Rob?” Jamie asked from the other side of the front door frame. He sounded startlingly calm.
“No. I’m okay,” Robert said. “Stay out of here. Understand? Stay clear of the door. Stay back from the walls.”
“Got it.”
A gust of cold December air blew in from the bedroom, and Robert tasted snow. “Goddamn it,” he exclaimed. “He’s gone out the back.”
He scrambled up, levering himself on the small table with the lamp, knocking both over. The glass globe smashed on the wooden floor. Robert stayed close to the wall, moving quickly around the square of the room. Keeping to the side, he threw open the bedroom door.
In the wintry light he saw O’Hara sprawled and motionless. Crimson pooled beneath him, soaking the floorboards.
“Goddamn it,” Robert said.
Brown curtains bobbed lightly on the breeze blowing through the open window next to the bed. Aside from O’Hara, the room was empty. When he thrust his head out the window, the alley behind the building was empty too.
Robert swore again, bitterly, turned and ran past Finney, who was slumped and bloody against the wall. “Hold on, Tom.”
Finney didn’t answer.
There was no sign of Jamie in the hall. That showed reassuring good sense, and Robert was relieved as he limped hurriedly down the narrow passage and back to the front of the building.
Arthur from the Montana Standard was fairly dancing with excitement on the pavement in front of the house. “By God, what a story! What’s the name of this gunman?”
“Never mind that. Where’d he go?”
“Thataway.” Arthur pointed down the street, where a green sedan had all but disappeared into the now heavily falling snow. “There were two women in that car he grabbed.”
God almighty. It just kept getting worse and worse.
Robert looked around. A crowd had already gathered on the sidewalk behind them. Well, that was bound to happen, and maybe in this case it wasn’t such a bad thing. He scanned the ring of bystanders. “I need a doctor. I’ve got two men down in the apartment next to the cellar entrance and an injured woman upstairs.”
“The doctor just went up,” Arthur said.
Well, that was something anyway. Robert realized that the face he had been instinctively searching for was not among the growing crowd.
His heart sank still lower. He turned back to Arthur. “Where’s the kid?” he demanded.
“Who?”
“The red-haired kid. Works for the Bolt Daily Banner. He followed us inside. Where did he go?”
“Kid? You mean Jameson?” Arthur pointed down the street, now empty of all but snow flurries. “He and that damned cub who’s supposed to be my photographer took off after your bird.”
Lessons in Following a Poisonous Trail by Charlie Cochrane
A bright afternoon, with a gentle breeze. St Bride’s rugby pitch, the home team turning out against St Thomas’s college. A tight game, hard fought. Jonty, arms raised to charge down a drop kick from the opposition, stumbled over a churned-up piece of turf, found himself diving headlong towards a boot and took evasive action. It wasn’t his best decision.
“What are you?” Orlando Coppersmith frowned so hard that his entire forehead resembled a linen shirt that had just been wrung.
“Well, to give me my full title, I’m the Kildare Fellow in Tudor Literature.” Jonty Stewart put on a brave front but he knew that he would not stand a cross-examination. Especially when he was at the disadvantage of lying on a bed in the St. Bride’s college sickbay with the twin intimidations of his lover’s scowling presence in the room and the college nurse outside the door, cleaving her prow-bosomed way en route to the rest of her charges.
“I don’t refer to your paid employment, Dr Stewart, I allude to your conduct today. The conduct that brought you here.”
Jonty sighed. “I know. I’m an idiot.”
Orlando’s mouth almost tweaked into a smile but he managed to restrain it. “I would have thought the Kildare Fellow would have been able to produce an adjective to go with the noun.” He sat back in the little wooden chair provided for visitors, his arms folded, awaiting the answer.
“I’m a complete and utter idiot.”
“That’s nearer the truth. I can think of a few more terms but I’ll excuse you them. Given your condition.”
“I thank you for such small mercies.” Jonty changed position, easing his leg. Only a patchwork quilt covered his lower regions, hiding the fact that he wore neither shoes nor socks or indeed anything below the waist. Not that he’d been wearing trousers when the mishap had happened. His right calf had been bandaged up to within an inch of its life after his rugby shorts had been cut off him quite mercilessly by Orlando and the nurse, who had decided that, despite being baggy, they’d never come off in the normal way without causing more pain and damage.
Jonty suspected that Orlando would have been happy to suggest that was exactly what they should do to teach him a lesson. He had huffed and puffed and complained all the way through the process, probably to cover up the fact that he was worried. Jonty could only hope he’d enjoyed it just a little bit. Getting their hands on each other’s flesh was usually a treat without comparison and one unlikely to be repeated any time soon, given the state of Jonty’s leg.
Mercy had eventually triumphed over justice, so now he had been made comfortable, propped up with pillows to await the arrival of the doctor.
“I bet you’re enjoying this.” Orlando had risen, to stare out of the small window across the college rooftops. “Being borne on a stretcher from the rugby pitch, into an invalid carriage and through St. Bride’s, like Queen Victoria in her pomp. Now having the prospect of being waited on hand and foot, with everyone fussing round you.”
“That may appeal, but my leg hurts like billy-oh.” Jonty carefully smoothed over the quilt, which was said to be the product of Ariadne Sheridan’s fair hands. Back in the days she’d been Ariadne Peters and the chatelaine of the master’s lodge at the side of her brother, she’d crafted a series of beautiful covers for the sick bay. To provide, she’d said, a little touch of home comfort for the students—or fellows—who found themselves ensconced there.
“One might say it served you right to be suffering.” Orlando, still in his muddy rugger jersey, kept his gaze fixed outside, possibly afraid that if he contemplated Jonty’s stricken frame his mood might soften. “What exactly did you do on that pitch?”
“I scored one magnificent try and made another. Both of the kicks beautifully taken by—”
“No Jonty. That wasn’t the question. What did you do to get yourself laid up like this?”
“Ah. Yes. Well.” The dreaded question to which the questioner knew the answer and was using it to make the recipient squirm. Jonty took a deep breath. “Well, I started to charge down this drop kick and then I saw a boot coming straight for my face. At which point I thought Mama wouldn’t want to see her lovely boy disfigured so I twisted out of the way and…” He tailed off. The rest must have been obvious at the time, from the awful way his leg had gone awry as he hit the ground to the howl of pain that he had given. He was sure he’d heard a breaking noise, as well, but perhaps best not to mention that at present. “It was better that my leg copped it, surely, rather than me lose my good looks?”
*******
“What are you?” Orlando Coppersmith frowned so hard that his entire forehead resembled a linen shirt that had just been wrung.
“Well, to give me my full title, I’m the Kildare Fellow in Tudor Literature.” Jonty Stewart put on a brave front but he knew that he would not stand a cross-examination. Especially when he was at the disadvantage of lying on a bed in the St. Bride’s college sickbay with the twin intimidations of his lover’s scowling presence in the room and the college nurse outside the door, cleaving her prow-bosomed way en route to the rest of her charges.
“I don’t refer to your paid employment, Dr Stewart, I allude to your conduct today. The conduct that brought you here.”
Jonty sighed. “I know. I’m an idiot.”
Orlando’s mouth almost tweaked into a smile but he managed to restrain it. “I would have thought the Kildare Fellow would have been able to produce an adjective to go with the noun.” He sat back in the little wooden chair provided for visitors, his arms folded, awaiting the answer.
“I’m a complete and utter idiot.”
“That’s nearer the truth. I can think of a few more terms but I’ll excuse you them. Given your condition.”
“I thank you for such small mercies.” Jonty changed position, easing his leg. Only a patchwork quilt covered his lower regions, hiding the fact that he wore neither shoes nor socks or indeed anything below the waist. Not that he’d been wearing trousers when the mishap had happened. His right calf had been bandaged up to within an inch of its life after his rugby shorts had been cut off him quite mercilessly by Orlando and the nurse, who had decided that, despite being baggy, they’d never come off in the normal way without causing more pain and damage.
Jonty suspected that Orlando would have been happy to suggest that was exactly what they should do to teach him a lesson. He had huffed and puffed and complained all the way through the process, probably to cover up the fact that he was worried. Jonty could only hope he’d enjoyed it just a little bit. Getting their hands on each other’s flesh was usually a treat without comparison and one unlikely to be repeated any time soon, given the state of Jonty’s leg.
Mercy had eventually triumphed over justice, so now he had been made comfortable, propped up with pillows to await the arrival of the doctor.
“I bet you’re enjoying this.” Orlando had risen, to stare out of the small window across the college rooftops. “Being borne on a stretcher from the rugby pitch, into an invalid carriage and through St. Bride’s, like Queen Victoria in her pomp. Now having the prospect of being waited on hand and foot, with everyone fussing round you.”
“That may appeal, but my leg hurts like billy-oh.” Jonty carefully smoothed over the quilt, which was said to be the product of Ariadne Sheridan’s fair hands. Back in the days she’d been Ariadne Peters and the chatelaine of the master’s lodge at the side of her brother, she’d crafted a series of beautiful covers for the sick bay. To provide, she’d said, a little touch of home comfort for the students—or fellows—who found themselves ensconced there.
“One might say it served you right to be suffering.” Orlando, still in his muddy rugger jersey, kept his gaze fixed outside, possibly afraid that if he contemplated Jonty’s stricken frame his mood might soften. “What exactly did you do on that pitch?”
“I scored one magnificent try and made another. Both of the kicks beautifully taken by—”
“No Jonty. That wasn’t the question. What did you do to get yourself laid up like this?”
“Ah. Yes. Well.” The dreaded question to which the questioner knew the answer and was using it to make the recipient squirm. Jonty took a deep breath. “Well, I started to charge down this drop kick and then I saw a boot coming straight for my face. At which point I thought Mama wouldn’t want to see her lovely boy disfigured so I twisted out of the way and…” He tailed off. The rest must have been obvious at the time, from the awful way his leg had gone awry as he hit the ground to the howl of pain that he had given. He was sure he’d heard a breaking noise, as well, but perhaps best not to mention that at present. “It was better that my leg copped it, surely, rather than me lose my good looks?”
Born to Dutch parents and raised in Colombia and England, I am a rootless wanderer with itchy feet. I've spent the last few years living and working in The Netherlands, Czech Republic, Sudan and Bulgaria, but I have every confidence that I will now finally be able to settle down among the olive groves of Andalucia.
I'm an avid reader and film fan and I have an MA in creative writing for film and television.
Alice Winters started writing stories as soon as she was old enough to turn her ideas into written words. She loves writing a variety of things from romance and comedy to action. She also enjoys reading, horseback riding, and spending time with her pets.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
When she's not writing you can find her blogging away on Diverse Reader, her review and promotional site. She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she'd tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you're afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
Josh LanyonBestselling author of over sixty titles of classic Male/Male fiction featuring twisty mystery, kickass adventure and unapologetic man-on-man romance, JOSH LANYON has been called "the Agatha Christie of gay mystery."
Her work has been translated into eleven languages. The FBI thriller Fair Game was the first male/male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, the largest romance publisher in Italy. Stranger on the Shore (Harper Collins Italia) was the first M/M title to be published in print. In 2016 Fatal Shadows placed #5 in Japan's annual Boy Love novel list (the first and only title by a foreign author to place on the list).
The Adrien English Series was awarded All Time Favorite Male Male Couple in the 2nd Annual contest held by the Goodreads M/M Group (which has over 22,000 members). Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist for Gay Mystery, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads Favorite M/M Author Lifetime Achievement award.
Josh is married and they live in Southern California.Her work has been translated into eleven languages. The FBI thriller Fair Game was the first male/male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, the largest romance publisher in Italy. Stranger on the Shore (Harper Collins Italia) was the first M/M title to be published in print. In 2016 Fatal Shadows placed #5 in Japan's annual Boy Love novel list (the first and only title by a foreign author to place on the list).
The Adrien English Series was awarded All Time Favorite Male Male Couple in the 2nd Annual contest held by the Goodreads M/M Group (which has over 22,000 members). Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist for Gay Mystery, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads Favorite M/M Author Lifetime Achievement award.
As Charlie Cochrane couldn't be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice - like managing a rugby team - she writes. Her favourite genre is gay fiction, predominantly historical romances/mysteries, but she's making an increasing number of forays into the modern day. She's even been known to write about gay werewolves - albeit highly respectable ones.
Her Cambridge Fellows series of Edwardian romantic mysteries were instrumental in seeing her named Speak Its Name Author of the Year 2009. She’s a member of both the Romantic Novelists’ Association and International Thriller Writers Inc.
Olivier Bosman
Alice Winters
EMAIL: alicewintersauthor@gmail.com
Joel Leslie(Narrator)
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
Josh Lanyon
SMASHWORDS / iTUNES / SHELFARI
EMAIL: josh.lanyon@sbcglobal.net
Charlie Cochrane
EMAIL: cochrane.charlie2@googlemail.com
A Glimpse of Heaven by Olivier Bosman
A Light in the Darkness by Alice Winters
Raven's Hart by Davidson King
Slay Ride by Josh Lanyon
