What were some of your favorite books from 2019? What are you looking forward to reading in 2020?
Showing posts with label Duffy Brown. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Duffy Brown. Show all posts
Friday, January 3, 2020
Friday, January 25, 2019
Book Review: Tandem Demise by Duffy Brown
Though island police chief, Nate Sutter, encourages her to stay out of the way and let the cops handle it, Evie is sure Nate's past, the body on the dock, and a wedding planner more interested in playing bedroom bingo than ordering bridal bouquets are connected. Can she put the pieces together before she becomes the killer's next victim?
Lordy, lordy, Duffy Brown just keeps getting better. I've never read a book by her and been dissatisfied. She knows the cozy genre well and pieces together a great mystery with tons of twists and turns. After reading, Tandem Demise, I feel like I know all about Mackinac Island too, though I've never even been there.
Other than a fabulous mystery with tons of interesting characters, the font that was chosen for this book--and I assume the previous two books in this series--is perfect for the feel and the tone of the story. Kudos to the book designer on this one.
Though this is the third book in the series, it stands alone well. I didn't feel lost at all...though I plan to go back and read the previous two books because I want to know Evie, Fiona, Nate and others on the island right from the very start of their journey together.
If you enjoy cozy mysteries and you love interesting settings, then Tandem Demise by Duffy Brown will be right up your alley. I can't wait for the next Cycle Path Mystery to come out.
Series: A Cycle Path Mystery (Book 3)
Paperback: 298 pages
Publisher: Independently published (October 28, 2018)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1729374786
ISBN-13: 978-1729374788
I received a free paperback copy of this book from the author. This review contains my honest opinions, which I have not been compensated for in any way.
Wednesday, January 16, 2019
Book Spotlight: Tandem Demise by Duffy Brown
Smugglers on the hunt, a police chief on the run, lost loot and a dead wedding planner
have the Mackinac Island regulars riding in circles
After solving two murders, bike shop owner Evie Bloomfield thought life on Mackinac Island would settle into boredom until she finds out Nate Sutter, island police chief and once-upon-a-time under cover cop is on the run. Some badass guys from Nate’s Detroit days think he stole money from them in a champagne smuggling operation and now they’re headed to the island to get their loot. Evie is determined to help Nate because he’s a good cop. Nate is determined to keep interfering Evie and island locals out of harms way, and the crooks are determined to get their money.
EXCERPT
Chapter One
“Do you think he’s dead or just dead drunk?” I asked Fiona as the two of us stood alone on the freight dock with thick night fog swirling around us. We were staring at a guy prone on the pier with a champagne bottle clutched in his arms.
I grabbed Fiona’s hand as we shuffled a little closer. “Uh oh, he’s staring back at us and not in a Hey come have a drink with me kind of way.”
“And there’s blood, a lot of blood.” Both of us shivered, from the wind gusts off Lake Huron as much as from our present situation.
“This is terrible.” Fiona made the sign of the cross and I did the same. I wasn’t Catholic, but I needed to do something...anything...and right now there weren’t a lot of options. “How does this keep happening to you?”
I did a double-blink and stared at Fiona. “Excuse me?”
“Mackinac’s a little island and you’re here tonight picking up kites to sell at your bike shop but instead - oh gee guess what - you come across yet another body!”
“Hold on a minute, stop right there.” I dropped Fiona’s hand and jabbed her on the forehead partially covered by the purple sequin paperboy cap befitting her occupation of Town Crier editor. “Forget the you part about the bodies. Okay, the first one was mine - I’ll give you that, but the last one was definitely a we body. We both found it and you’re the one who was accused of making it dead and this is not my fault.”
“All I know is when you landed here two years ago, Irish Donna said there was a black cloud hanging over you. If this corpse is any indication, the cloud hasn’t changed one bit. I think it’s getting darker.”
“Maybe a little.” I took a closer look at the body as the waves lapped at the shoreline and wood pilings under our feet. “Do you recognize him?”
“No, but he’s cute.” Fiona’s words mixed with the foghorn bellowing in the harbor, her breath making little puffy moisture clouds that faded into the night. “Well, he was cute when he didn’t have that big gash on the side of his head and don’t give me that how can you say such a thing look, Evie Bloomfield. I lived in LA for three and two-thirds years and covered some pretty grizzly stuff. Maybe he’s from one of the work ferries or barges. This is the island’s freight dock and he’s dressed in jeans and a work jacket.”
“The most grizzly thing you ever did out in LA was chow down on bad TexMex. You were a rag reporter covering celeb affairs, scandals, and the occasional I had Elvis’s baby.”
“Why couldn’t you just pay for delivery like everyone else does on this island?” Fiona huffed. “Then Captain wouldn’t have to hide the boxes of kites for you to pick up tonight and I wouldn’t be mixed up in something I can’t even put in the Crier. One whiff of a body around here and tourists will run for the ferries, taking their American Express cards with them and turning this island into a ghost town. Dead guy on dock is not a great tourist attraction.”
I was a come-here to Mackinac Island and Fiona was a born-here. In the last two years we’d bonded over OPI nail polish, Nutty Buddy ice cream cones, and a knack for snooping that included picking locks and telling whopper lies with a straight face. In my other life back in Chicago I’d been a grunt-level graphic designer. I wound up on the island when I tried to suck up to my boss to land a promotion. My great plan was to help her father who owned a bicycle shop and had broken his leg. That he got nailed for a murder on my watch did not help my promotion chances. I now owned part of Rudy’s Rides and painted old, rusted bikes shiny new again with such themes as golf, Batman, Babe Ruth - the baseball player and candy bar - or any other love-of-your-life you’d like to sport around town.
Fiona, who had felt the need to spread her wings, took a second-rate rag reporter job in LA and got accused of killing her boss when he followed her back to Mackinac. Not all homecomings were Welcome Home banners, brass bands, and family cookouts.
“What we should do,” Fiona offered, “is not touch anything and call the police, except Molly’s on desk duty tonight and you know how she is with bodies. Nate’s usually hanging around, but he’s up at the Grand Hotel at a hundred-bucks-a-plate dinner getting an award for spearheading the campaign to repair the limestone walls around Fort Mackinac. After two-hundred-and-fifty years they’re starting to look like Swiss cheese. Sutter’s having dessert about now and raspberry crème brûlée is his fave. You know he won’t be happy if we drag him away.”
“Happy? Well I’m sure as heck not happy keeping company with a dead guy and you don’t look too happy and Mr. Champagne is staring up at the sky and doesn’t have a smile on his face either, so that makes it Nate’s turn. He’s the chief of police around here and gets paid for not being happy. I’m ringing him up.”
“You’re just pissed that you didn’t get crème brûlée.”
I dug Sheldon, my beloved iPhone with Penny, knock, knock, knock as a ring tone, out of my jacket pocket and held it to the sky. This was more a valiant effort of looking for service bars then actually expecting to find any. Mackinac Island was known for many things like big horses; lots of bikes; the Grand Hotel that was truly grand; festivals for jazz, lilacs, ponies and anything else that came along; and selling ten tons of fudge a year to the tourists we lovingly called fudgies. Mackinac Island was not known for great cell phone service. Heck, it was known for no cell phone service.
“Surprise, surprise. No bars,” Fiona said looking over my shoulder. I pocketed the phone I used for playing Candy Crush and making selfies. The foghorn moaned again, mixing with the deep rumble of a passing freighter somewhere out there in the pea soup.
“Well, we can’t just leave the body. What if the killer comes back for it,” I finally said, trying to come up with a plan.
“Or he comes back and gets us.” We eyed the string of hazy fluorescents dotting the pier and leading back to the warehouse where we’d started. “You know it’s locked.”
“There’s a landline inside and these are desperate times.” We hoofed our way back up the pier, gravel crunching beneath our feet, as we crossed the lane to the warehouse. Byline whinnied and pawed the ground, telling us he was tired of pulling a cart all day and wanted to go home to a nice barn and fresh hay. I could relate except for the barn and hay part. I was more of a flannel Hello Kitty nightshirt and hot cocoa kind of girl.
“This rock should work.” I picked it up and started for the warehouse window when Fiona grabbed my hand. “What in the heck are you doing? Captain will have a canary if you bust a window. Just pick the freaking lock. The zipper pull on your fleece has two purple paperclips attached. My guess is they’re not strictly for decoration, more for breaking and entering when the occasion arises like right now, and if you break the window it’ll set off an alarm.”
“Nate can contact the alarm company to shut the thing off and if I pick the lock, he’ll get suspicious about other conveniently opened doors during our island capers. The rock is an innocent bystander, same as me.”
“Girlfriend, when it comes to you, Nate will never believe the innocent part.”
Twenty minutes later Nate Sutter, local police chief and celebrated hunk, trotted toward us on Shakespeare, his trusted steed. Through the mist I could barely make out Police stenciled in reflector yellow across his windbreaker and baseball cap. “Where’s your tux?”
“Shakespeare’s got a phobia about bowties.” Sutter studied Fiona then me then the busted window. “Captain’s going blow a gasket. Why didn’t you just pick the lock?”
“Told you so,” Fiona sing-songed as Nate slid to the ground. “How was the benefit?”
“Irish Donna ate my crème brûlée and I got a flintlock pistol to hang on my wall. I would have rather had my crème brûlée.”
Sutter tied Shakespeare to a post by the bike rack, Mackinac’s version of parking spaces. He unstrapped a black pouch from the saddle before following Fiona and me onto the dock, our footsteps making hollow sounds against the wood planks. Another forlorn foghorn blast reverberated through the darkness, the sound chilling me to my bones. If that headless horseman guy had galloped past us I wouldn’t have been one bit surprised. Actually, I would have peed my pants, but I’m just saying he would have fit right in.
“There.” I nodded to the body. “Poor guy. He didn’t deserve this.”
Sutter’s steps slowed before he stopped dead. His jaw tightened, his hands in a fist. Slowly he pulled a camera from the pouch and snapped away, the flashes blindingly bright against the darkness. He moved side to side for different angles then hunkered down beside the body cocooned in the damp mist.
“Why didn’t the killer just dump the body in the water?” I added. “I mean, why leave it out here on the dock for the entire world to see. We’ve got two deep lakes. Big ones. Disposing of a body is a snap.”
There was no response from Sutter, who usually recited a litany of police platitudes in these situations. Don’t touch anything, stay out of my way, and - my personal favorite- this is police business so get lost. Like that means anything to two self-proclaimed busybodies. Fiona and I exchanged what’s going on looks and I waved my hand in front of the camera. “Yoo-hoo. Anybody home? Got any idea what’s going on here, Mr. Police Officer?”
“How the heck should I know?” Sutter blurted a little too quickly. “And why don’t you pay for delivery like everyone else does around here instead of fumbling around in the dark.”
“Amen to that,” Fiona grunted.
“Well,” I pushed on, trying to connect the dots since Sutter was off in LaLa Land and Fiona was no help at all except griping at me about being cheap. “There aren’t any freighters tied up to the docks tonight, so Captain and the workers probably knocked off at six or so. It gets dark around 7:30 and it’s almost nine now. My guess is this happened in the last hour and a half when no one was around. A meeting of some kind? A celebration, since we got the champagne thing going on? But unless he’s with Greenpeace, there are better places to party than around crates of recycling.”
Sutter didn’t say a word and took a few more shots before grabbing a flashlight from his jacket pocket. He pulled on plastic gloves and unfolded bags marked Evidence. He checked the guy’s jean pockets, pulling out a pair of well-worn work gloves, a silver dollar money clip with a few bucks, a beat-up wallet, and a pocketknife with a wood handle. He opened the wallet and found John Bernard’s driver’s license, credit card, and insurance info plus a bent photo of a ponytailed guy with sexy scruff and white blazer standing next to a limo.
“With money and credit cards, we can rule out theft as a motive,” I said, “and look.” I snagging Sutter’s arm before he dropped the money clip in an evidence bag. “There’s an inscription on the back.” I pushed the flashlight closer and read, “Best Man and there’s a date. There’s writing on the knife too. Groomsman and another date.”
Still not saying a word, Sutter removed a silver flask from the guy’s jacket pocket.
“Flip it over,” Fiona said to Sutter. “These aren’t exactly typical dockhand acquisitions. I bet they’re gifts from being in weddings. I see them in bridal magazines all the time.” Fiona cut her eyes from me to Sutter, both of us staring at her. “Hey. I drool over the cakes, okay? Fewer calories and … Look right there!” Fiona pointed to the flask. “It says Best Man and there’s another date.”
Fiona put her hand to her heart and sighed deeply. “This was one of the good guys and a friend to a lot of people who wanted him to be a part of the most important day of their lives. He’s like one of those dreamy guys on The Hallmark Channel. Why can’t I meet guys like this?”
“Dead ones?” Sutter groused.
“The men I meet are after one thing, sports and beer.”
“That’s two things.”
“Seems like one.”
“And he has a watch,” I added. “It’s a nice one. Well, it was. I bet that’s from being in a wedding too, probably a best man.”
Sutter unbuckled the watch and flipped it over. I leaned closer and read, “Today my husband. Forever my best friend.”
“He’s married!” Fiona sobbed, grabbing my hand as a light rain started to fall.
“Or he stole all this stuff,” said Sutter.
“You are such a cynic.” I swiped away a tear.
“I’m a cop and a realist, something that you don’t find on The Hallmark Channel.” Sutter held the dead guy’s arm, probably checking for stiffness. I was no forensic guru, but how stiff a stiff is tells a lot about the time of death.
“The killer was probably hiding and whacked John over the head with...” I looked around. “Something hard and narrow. There’s a lot of recycling stuff to choose from and...” I snagged Sutter’s hand that held the flashlight and aimed the light onto the wood dock. “Look, blood drops, but we’re losing them in the rain.” I followed the dots with the light. “They lead over there to the edge of the pier.”
“Meaning the murder weapon’s in the drink.” Fiona pointed out into the lake. “Probably halfway to Canada by now along with his cell phone since we haven’t seen that either.”
Sutter picked something off the dock that was tucked under a recyling bin, the blade catching the light.
“Box cutter?” I said.
“And it’s not inscribed,” Sutter muttered.
“Our guy was expecting trouble if he had his box cutter out.”
“Our guy?” Sutter gave me a good grief look.
“And it was under the recycling crate, maybe the killer thought he tossed it in the lake with the murder weapon? It’s hard to see in all this fog.”
Not answering again, Sutter put the box cutter in a bag and sealed it, preserving any DNA evidence. Scary how much I knew about crime scenes these days. Sutter snapped pictures of the dock and blood drops then held his hand out to me. “Give me your jacket.”
“The man’s dead, Sherlock. There’s no warming him up now.”
Sutter stood. He turned slowly and offered a half smile. His body relaxed and he had a devilish glint in his eyes. The old Sutter was back. “Cute.”
“Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”
“I’m always paying attention, Chicago. I’ll wrap the champagne in an evidence bag and then in your jacket so we don’t break it or screw up the fingerprints. I’ll put my jacket on this guy to protect the evidence. Doc’s due back from St. Ignace tomorrow and we can’t just leave the body lying here as a photo op for tourists biking the island. The dock’s covered in footprints and shrapnel from loading and unloading and the weather’s getting worse by the minute. Forensic anything is impossible. We’ll need to keep this quiet. I’ll take the body in the carriage to the medical center and put it in the cooler, you two take Shakespeare, and as to why not dump the body off the pier...”
Sutter draped his arm over my shoulder and brought me close. “Bodies float, Chicago. They get washed ashore with the tides, especially with the big diesels churning up the water. Disposing of a body has to be done right. They have to be tied and weighed down and dumped out in the middle of the lake. Something to keep in mind the next time you and your sidekick here think about dragging me away from dessert. I can take care of things from here. You two take care of my horse then get back to whatever you were doing.”
Before I could protest Sutter headed for the carriage, leaving Fiona and me alone on the dock. She zipped her fleece against the damp chill and pursed her lips. “Does Nate really think we’re going to let this dead guy on the docks thing go? We found him and like it or not your black cloud affliction might have something to do with the guy being dead.” She poked my forehead. “You owe him.”
“We owe him, but for right now we have other problems. First, we have to help Nate load up a dead body. Not my favorite past-time. Then...” I patted Shakespeare and handed Fiona the reins. “I sure hope you know how to drive this thing ‘cause I don’t have a clue.”
“Do you think he’s dead or just dead drunk?” I asked Fiona as the two of us stood alone on the freight dock with thick night fog swirling around us. We were staring at a guy prone on the pier with a champagne bottle clutched in his arms.
I grabbed Fiona’s hand as we shuffled a little closer. “Uh oh, he’s staring back at us and not in a Hey come have a drink with me kind of way.”
“And there’s blood, a lot of blood.” Both of us shivered, from the wind gusts off Lake Huron as much as from our present situation.
“This is terrible.” Fiona made the sign of the cross and I did the same. I wasn’t Catholic, but I needed to do something...anything...and right now there weren’t a lot of options. “How does this keep happening to you?”
I did a double-blink and stared at Fiona. “Excuse me?”
“Mackinac’s a little island and you’re here tonight picking up kites to sell at your bike shop but instead - oh gee guess what - you come across yet another body!”
“Hold on a minute, stop right there.” I dropped Fiona’s hand and jabbed her on the forehead partially covered by the purple sequin paperboy cap befitting her occupation of Town Crier editor. “Forget the you part about the bodies. Okay, the first one was mine - I’ll give you that, but the last one was definitely a we body. We both found it and you’re the one who was accused of making it dead and this is not my fault.”
“All I know is when you landed here two years ago, Irish Donna said there was a black cloud hanging over you. If this corpse is any indication, the cloud hasn’t changed one bit. I think it’s getting darker.”
“Maybe a little.” I took a closer look at the body as the waves lapped at the shoreline and wood pilings under our feet. “Do you recognize him?”
“No, but he’s cute.” Fiona’s words mixed with the foghorn bellowing in the harbor, her breath making little puffy moisture clouds that faded into the night. “Well, he was cute when he didn’t have that big gash on the side of his head and don’t give me that how can you say such a thing look, Evie Bloomfield. I lived in LA for three and two-thirds years and covered some pretty grizzly stuff. Maybe he’s from one of the work ferries or barges. This is the island’s freight dock and he’s dressed in jeans and a work jacket.”
“The most grizzly thing you ever did out in LA was chow down on bad TexMex. You were a rag reporter covering celeb affairs, scandals, and the occasional I had Elvis’s baby.”
“Why couldn’t you just pay for delivery like everyone else does on this island?” Fiona huffed. “Then Captain wouldn’t have to hide the boxes of kites for you to pick up tonight and I wouldn’t be mixed up in something I can’t even put in the Crier. One whiff of a body around here and tourists will run for the ferries, taking their American Express cards with them and turning this island into a ghost town. Dead guy on dock is not a great tourist attraction.”
I was a come-here to Mackinac Island and Fiona was a born-here. In the last two years we’d bonded over OPI nail polish, Nutty Buddy ice cream cones, and a knack for snooping that included picking locks and telling whopper lies with a straight face. In my other life back in Chicago I’d been a grunt-level graphic designer. I wound up on the island when I tried to suck up to my boss to land a promotion. My great plan was to help her father who owned a bicycle shop and had broken his leg. That he got nailed for a murder on my watch did not help my promotion chances. I now owned part of Rudy’s Rides and painted old, rusted bikes shiny new again with such themes as golf, Batman, Babe Ruth - the baseball player and candy bar - or any other love-of-your-life you’d like to sport around town.
Fiona, who had felt the need to spread her wings, took a second-rate rag reporter job in LA and got accused of killing her boss when he followed her back to Mackinac. Not all homecomings were Welcome Home banners, brass bands, and family cookouts.
“What we should do,” Fiona offered, “is not touch anything and call the police, except Molly’s on desk duty tonight and you know how she is with bodies. Nate’s usually hanging around, but he’s up at the Grand Hotel at a hundred-bucks-a-plate dinner getting an award for spearheading the campaign to repair the limestone walls around Fort Mackinac. After two-hundred-and-fifty years they’re starting to look like Swiss cheese. Sutter’s having dessert about now and raspberry crème brûlée is his fave. You know he won’t be happy if we drag him away.”
“Happy? Well I’m sure as heck not happy keeping company with a dead guy and you don’t look too happy and Mr. Champagne is staring up at the sky and doesn’t have a smile on his face either, so that makes it Nate’s turn. He’s the chief of police around here and gets paid for not being happy. I’m ringing him up.”
“You’re just pissed that you didn’t get crème brûlée.”
I dug Sheldon, my beloved iPhone with Penny, knock, knock, knock as a ring tone, out of my jacket pocket and held it to the sky. This was more a valiant effort of looking for service bars then actually expecting to find any. Mackinac Island was known for many things like big horses; lots of bikes; the Grand Hotel that was truly grand; festivals for jazz, lilacs, ponies and anything else that came along; and selling ten tons of fudge a year to the tourists we lovingly called fudgies. Mackinac Island was not known for great cell phone service. Heck, it was known for no cell phone service.
“Surprise, surprise. No bars,” Fiona said looking over my shoulder. I pocketed the phone I used for playing Candy Crush and making selfies. The foghorn moaned again, mixing with the deep rumble of a passing freighter somewhere out there in the pea soup.
“Well, we can’t just leave the body. What if the killer comes back for it,” I finally said, trying to come up with a plan.
“Or he comes back and gets us.” We eyed the string of hazy fluorescents dotting the pier and leading back to the warehouse where we’d started. “You know it’s locked.”
“There’s a landline inside and these are desperate times.” We hoofed our way back up the pier, gravel crunching beneath our feet, as we crossed the lane to the warehouse. Byline whinnied and pawed the ground, telling us he was tired of pulling a cart all day and wanted to go home to a nice barn and fresh hay. I could relate except for the barn and hay part. I was more of a flannel Hello Kitty nightshirt and hot cocoa kind of girl.
“This rock should work.” I picked it up and started for the warehouse window when Fiona grabbed my hand. “What in the heck are you doing? Captain will have a canary if you bust a window. Just pick the freaking lock. The zipper pull on your fleece has two purple paperclips attached. My guess is they’re not strictly for decoration, more for breaking and entering when the occasion arises like right now, and if you break the window it’ll set off an alarm.”
“Nate can contact the alarm company to shut the thing off and if I pick the lock, he’ll get suspicious about other conveniently opened doors during our island capers. The rock is an innocent bystander, same as me.”
“Girlfriend, when it comes to you, Nate will never believe the innocent part.”
Twenty minutes later Nate Sutter, local police chief and celebrated hunk, trotted toward us on Shakespeare, his trusted steed. Through the mist I could barely make out Police stenciled in reflector yellow across his windbreaker and baseball cap. “Where’s your tux?”
“Shakespeare’s got a phobia about bowties.” Sutter studied Fiona then me then the busted window. “Captain’s going blow a gasket. Why didn’t you just pick the lock?”
“Told you so,” Fiona sing-songed as Nate slid to the ground. “How was the benefit?”
“Irish Donna ate my crème brûlée and I got a flintlock pistol to hang on my wall. I would have rather had my crème brûlée.”
Sutter tied Shakespeare to a post by the bike rack, Mackinac’s version of parking spaces. He unstrapped a black pouch from the saddle before following Fiona and me onto the dock, our footsteps making hollow sounds against the wood planks. Another forlorn foghorn blast reverberated through the darkness, the sound chilling me to my bones. If that headless horseman guy had galloped past us I wouldn’t have been one bit surprised. Actually, I would have peed my pants, but I’m just saying he would have fit right in.
“There.” I nodded to the body. “Poor guy. He didn’t deserve this.”
Sutter’s steps slowed before he stopped dead. His jaw tightened, his hands in a fist. Slowly he pulled a camera from the pouch and snapped away, the flashes blindingly bright against the darkness. He moved side to side for different angles then hunkered down beside the body cocooned in the damp mist.
“Why didn’t the killer just dump the body in the water?” I added. “I mean, why leave it out here on the dock for the entire world to see. We’ve got two deep lakes. Big ones. Disposing of a body is a snap.”
There was no response from Sutter, who usually recited a litany of police platitudes in these situations. Don’t touch anything, stay out of my way, and - my personal favorite- this is police business so get lost. Like that means anything to two self-proclaimed busybodies. Fiona and I exchanged what’s going on looks and I waved my hand in front of the camera. “Yoo-hoo. Anybody home? Got any idea what’s going on here, Mr. Police Officer?”
“How the heck should I know?” Sutter blurted a little too quickly. “And why don’t you pay for delivery like everyone else does around here instead of fumbling around in the dark.”
“Amen to that,” Fiona grunted.
“Well,” I pushed on, trying to connect the dots since Sutter was off in LaLa Land and Fiona was no help at all except griping at me about being cheap. “There aren’t any freighters tied up to the docks tonight, so Captain and the workers probably knocked off at six or so. It gets dark around 7:30 and it’s almost nine now. My guess is this happened in the last hour and a half when no one was around. A meeting of some kind? A celebration, since we got the champagne thing going on? But unless he’s with Greenpeace, there are better places to party than around crates of recycling.”
Sutter didn’t say a word and took a few more shots before grabbing a flashlight from his jacket pocket. He pulled on plastic gloves and unfolded bags marked Evidence. He checked the guy’s jean pockets, pulling out a pair of well-worn work gloves, a silver dollar money clip with a few bucks, a beat-up wallet, and a pocketknife with a wood handle. He opened the wallet and found John Bernard’s driver’s license, credit card, and insurance info plus a bent photo of a ponytailed guy with sexy scruff and white blazer standing next to a limo.
“With money and credit cards, we can rule out theft as a motive,” I said, “and look.” I snagging Sutter’s arm before he dropped the money clip in an evidence bag. “There’s an inscription on the back.” I pushed the flashlight closer and read, “Best Man and there’s a date. There’s writing on the knife too. Groomsman and another date.”
Still not saying a word, Sutter removed a silver flask from the guy’s jacket pocket.
“Flip it over,” Fiona said to Sutter. “These aren’t exactly typical dockhand acquisitions. I bet they’re gifts from being in weddings. I see them in bridal magazines all the time.” Fiona cut her eyes from me to Sutter, both of us staring at her. “Hey. I drool over the cakes, okay? Fewer calories and … Look right there!” Fiona pointed to the flask. “It says Best Man and there’s another date.”
Fiona put her hand to her heart and sighed deeply. “This was one of the good guys and a friend to a lot of people who wanted him to be a part of the most important day of their lives. He’s like one of those dreamy guys on The Hallmark Channel. Why can’t I meet guys like this?”
“Dead ones?” Sutter groused.
“The men I meet are after one thing, sports and beer.”
“That’s two things.”
“Seems like one.”
“And he has a watch,” I added. “It’s a nice one. Well, it was. I bet that’s from being in a wedding too, probably a best man.”
Sutter unbuckled the watch and flipped it over. I leaned closer and read, “Today my husband. Forever my best friend.”
“He’s married!” Fiona sobbed, grabbing my hand as a light rain started to fall.
“Or he stole all this stuff,” said Sutter.
“You are such a cynic.” I swiped away a tear.
“I’m a cop and a realist, something that you don’t find on The Hallmark Channel.” Sutter held the dead guy’s arm, probably checking for stiffness. I was no forensic guru, but how stiff a stiff is tells a lot about the time of death.
“The killer was probably hiding and whacked John over the head with...” I looked around. “Something hard and narrow. There’s a lot of recycling stuff to choose from and...” I snagged Sutter’s hand that held the flashlight and aimed the light onto the wood dock. “Look, blood drops, but we’re losing them in the rain.” I followed the dots with the light. “They lead over there to the edge of the pier.”
“Meaning the murder weapon’s in the drink.” Fiona pointed out into the lake. “Probably halfway to Canada by now along with his cell phone since we haven’t seen that either.”
Sutter picked something off the dock that was tucked under a recyling bin, the blade catching the light.
“Box cutter?” I said.
“And it’s not inscribed,” Sutter muttered.
“Our guy was expecting trouble if he had his box cutter out.”
“Our guy?” Sutter gave me a good grief look.
“And it was under the recycling crate, maybe the killer thought he tossed it in the lake with the murder weapon? It’s hard to see in all this fog.”
Not answering again, Sutter put the box cutter in a bag and sealed it, preserving any DNA evidence. Scary how much I knew about crime scenes these days. Sutter snapped pictures of the dock and blood drops then held his hand out to me. “Give me your jacket.”
“The man’s dead, Sherlock. There’s no warming him up now.”
Sutter stood. He turned slowly and offered a half smile. His body relaxed and he had a devilish glint in his eyes. The old Sutter was back. “Cute.”
“Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”
“I’m always paying attention, Chicago. I’ll wrap the champagne in an evidence bag and then in your jacket so we don’t break it or screw up the fingerprints. I’ll put my jacket on this guy to protect the evidence. Doc’s due back from St. Ignace tomorrow and we can’t just leave the body lying here as a photo op for tourists biking the island. The dock’s covered in footprints and shrapnel from loading and unloading and the weather’s getting worse by the minute. Forensic anything is impossible. We’ll need to keep this quiet. I’ll take the body in the carriage to the medical center and put it in the cooler, you two take Shakespeare, and as to why not dump the body off the pier...”
Sutter draped his arm over my shoulder and brought me close. “Bodies float, Chicago. They get washed ashore with the tides, especially with the big diesels churning up the water. Disposing of a body has to be done right. They have to be tied and weighed down and dumped out in the middle of the lake. Something to keep in mind the next time you and your sidekick here think about dragging me away from dessert. I can take care of things from here. You two take care of my horse then get back to whatever you were doing.”
Before I could protest Sutter headed for the carriage, leaving Fiona and me alone on the dock. She zipped her fleece against the damp chill and pursed her lips. “Does Nate really think we’re going to let this dead guy on the docks thing go? We found him and like it or not your black cloud affliction might have something to do with the guy being dead.” She poked my forehead. “You owe him.”
“We owe him, but for right now we have other problems. First, we have to help Nate load up a dead body. Not my favorite past-time. Then...” I patted Shakespeare and handed Fiona the reins. “I sure hope you know how to drive this thing ‘cause I don’t have a clue.”
Duffy Brown loves anything with a mystery. While others girls dreamed of dating Brad Pitt, Duffy longed to take Sherlock Holmes to the prom. She is a National Bestselling author and now conjures up who-done-it stories of her very own. She has two series the Consignment Shop Mysteries set in Savannah along with rescue pup Bruce Willis and the Cycle Path Mysteries set on Mackinac Island with judgmental cats Cleveland and Bambino.
Website Address: www.DuffyBrown.com
Facebook Address: https://www.facebook.com/authorduffybrown
Tuesday, November 28, 2017
Book Review: Demise in Denim by Duffy Brown
If you recall when we left them after my summer vacation, Walker was on the lam because the police think he murdered someone. Now it's up to Reagan and Auntie Kiki to clear his name. Not an easy task, but luckily Walker has a lot of friends in Savannah.
With each book, I love this series more and more. You learn more about the characters. You see Reagan and Boone's relationship evolve. You get treated with a challenging mystery to solve. I can't say that I saw this one coming, which thrills and disappoints me all at once. I would love to write a great mystery, but watching masterful storytellers develop all these twists and turns to throw the reader off makes me think I'll never get there. I honestly didn't know who the killer was; I knew who it probably wasn't, but wasn't sure who the murderer was until it was revealed.
The ending of Demise in Denim will definitely make readers want to stay tuned for Lethal in Old Lace, the next book in the Consignment Shop Mystery series, which is due out this spring. You can check out the cover--which I love--here. Southern fiction and cozy mystery...is there anything better than that mix? Though this is a stand alone, you'll certainly want to join Reagan and crew right from the beginning.
Series: A Consignment Shop Mystery (Book 4)
Mass Market Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Berkley (April 7, 2015)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0425274705
ISBN-13: 978-0425274705
I purchased a copy of this book from Amazon. This review contains my honest opinions, which I have not been compensated for in any way.
Tuesday, July 11, 2017
Novella Review: Dead Man Walker by Duffy Brown
Springtime has come to Savannah, bringing with it customers into Reagan Summerside's consignment shop. Maybe now she can pay off some bills and think about getting some wheels.
Mercedes is a mortician beautician and housekeeper, so dead bodies don't scare her; but she doesn't really expect to find one of her clients dead in his bathtub. Having already had some trouble with the law, this sure won't make her any more popular with the police, so she calls on lawyer Walker Boone to help her out.
But Walker has his own connection to the recently deceased, which quickly makes him the number one suspect. Now, he'll need Reagan's help to clear his name.
As you can tell from recent reviews, I'm a fan of Brown's Consignment Shop Mystery series. What the author did with this short addition is keep it fresh while still giving the reader all of what she loves about these books. Though the previous three books are told from Reagan's point of view, this one is from Boone's. Not only is the reader treated to seeing things through his eyes, they learn a bit more about the mysterious gang member turned lawyer. For me, this was a mixed bag. Part of Boone's appeal is his secretive nature and the unknown parts of his past he hasn't shared with Reagan. Though there is still a ton to learn, part of that has been lost and he's not quite so mysterious anymore.
One of the best parts of Dead Man Walker is seeing Boone interact more with people from his former life, like Big Joey.
The cliffhanger ending on this one is superb and the reader gets a short excerpt from the next book in the series, Demise in Denim--which will be waiting for me when I get back home. While I'm not usually a fan of the cliffhanger ending in a series, here it works well because Boone's story naturally flows into Reagan working to clear his name in the next book. I can't wait to get started on it!
File Size: 1036 KB
Print Length: 71 pages
Publisher: Berkley (February 3, 2015)
Publication Date: February 3, 2015
Sold by: Penguin Group (USA) LLC
Language: English
ASIN: B00KGH5GVA
I purchased a copy of this book from Amazon. This review contains my honest opinions, which I have not been compensated for in any way.
Monday, July 10, 2017
Book Review: Pearls and Poison by Duffy Brown
In Pearls and Poison, the third book in Duffy Brown's Consignment Shop Mystery series, Judge Guillotine Gloria is running against Kip Seymour, a local construction contractor, for alderman. When Kip is found poisoned, Gloria quickly becomes suspect number one.
Determined to clear her mother's name, Reagan delves into who might want Kip dead. Unfortunately, that is a very long list and many of these people are dangerous. Keeping herself out of harm's way is going to be challenging enough, never mind trying to keep Auntie Kiki safe. With her loyal companion, Bruce Willis (a.k.a. BW) by her side, Reagan will need to tread lightly if she doesn't want to wind up the next victim.
Pearls and Poison is my favorite of this series so far. Brown combines her well-developed characters, a bit of backstory, great dialogue and the essence of the south to create a fast-paced, fun cozy mystery. I've been a fan of the series since the first book and each one gets better as new characters are introduced, bits and pieces of well-known characters' pasts are shared, and each new mystery with its twists and turns evolves.
If you like cozy mysteries, you have to put Duffy Brown on your "to read" list. You won't be disappointed.
Series: A Consignment Shop Mystery (Book 3)
Mass Market Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Berkley; 1st edition (March 4, 2014)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0425252485
ISBN-13: 978-0425252482
I received a copy of this book from the author. This review contains my honest opinions, which I have not been compensated for in any way.
Saturday, July 8, 2017
Book Review: Killer in Crinolines by Duffy Brown
When Reagan's best friend Chantilly is arrested for murdering Simon Ambrose, Reagan knows she can't just sit working at her consignment shop. She must find out who really offed Simon--and the list of suspects seems endless. With the help of Auntie Kiki and some unwanted help from Walker Boone and friends, she won't stop until Chantilly's name is cleared.
I loved Iced Chiffon--the first book in this series--and have already started the third book in the series, Pearls and Poison. Brown mixes a great mystery filled with twists and turns with the charm of the South and the antics of Reagan and her aunt to come up with a superb series that keeps the reader coming back for more. Now five books in, I don't see this series ending anytime soon....thank goodness.
The sexual tension between Boone and Reagan, the savvy of Auntie Kiki in weaseling information out of people, the occasional appearance of boys from the hood, and the numerous other characters in Savannah provide for a fun, unique totally southern cozy mystery you won't want to miss.
Highly recommended!
Series: A Consignment Shop Mystery (Book 2)
Mass Market Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Berkley (May 7, 2013)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0425252159
ISBN-13: 978-0425252154
I received a copy of this book from the author. This review contains my honest opinions, which I have not been compensated for in any way.
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
New Release: Braking for Bodies by Duffy Brown
Evie Bloomfield puts the pedal to the metal—in the latest Cycle Path mystery from the national bestselling author of Geared for the Grave.
Moving from Los Angeles to small, picturesque Mackinac Island to work in a bike shop might seem crazy, but Evie knows it’s the best decision she’s ever made. That’s not to say she’s gotten rid of all her stress; after all, the upcoming Lilac Festival has everyone in town riding in circles.
But things really go downhill when a ferry full of tourists—including Evie’s friend Fiona’s former boss, the editor of a sleazy rag in LA—arrives on the island. No one knows why Peephole Perry came all the way to Mackinac, but things aren’t looking good for Fiona when Peep is found dead. Now Evie has to gear up and get a grip on the truth if she wants to clear her friend’s name...
Praise for Geared for the Grave
“Sparkling dialogue, an unforgettable island setting, and all the charm a cozy mystery fan would want.”—Ellery Adams, New York Times bestselling author of the Books by the Bay Mysteries
“A charming setting, a determined heroine, and a love interest worthy of hunk status...Geared for the Grave speeds along and never puts on the brakes!”—Kylie Logan, author of League of Literary Ladies Mysteries
“Fast, funny, and full of heart! Geared for the Grave is a rollicking ride. I enjoyed every bump in the road and twist of the plot. I can’t wait for the next Cycle Path Mystery!”—Molly MacRae, national bestselling author of the Haunted Yarn Shop Mysteries
Series: A Cycle Path Mystery (Book 2)
Mass Market Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Berkley (April 5, 2016)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0425268950
ISBN-13: 978-0425268957
Purchase here!
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Consignment Shop Mysteries from Duffy Brown
There's always something to gossip about in Savannah, Georgia, and Reagan Summerside always seems to be in the middle of it. She's busy enough running her consignment shop, the Prissy Fox, with her vivacious auntie, KiKi, but now the gossip--and the sales--are about to pick up, after a gruesome discovery...
Reagan's messy divorce has left her with nothing but a run-down Victorian and a bunch of designer clothes. Strapped for cash, Reagan makes use of the two things she has left, turning the first floor of her home into a consignment shop and filling it with the remnants of her rich-wife wardrobe.
Thanks to his cunning lawyer, Walker Boone, her ex got everything else, including the Lexus--not to mention a young blonde cupcake. When Reagan finds the blonde dead in the Lexus, she's determined to beat Boone to finding the murderer. As it turns out, the gossip fiends flooding Reagan's shop can give her a lot more than just their unwanted clothes--they have information more precious than a vintage Louis Vuitton...
It’s August in Savannah, Georgia—hardly the season for a traditional Southern wedding with hoopskirts and crinolines. One could die from the heat—or from a cake knife in the back...
Reagan Summerside should be devoting all her energy to her consignment shop the Prissy Fox. But when her dear friend Chantilly Parker is arrested for murder, Reagan vows to clear her name. The victim is Simon Ambrose, who’s found lying in his own wedding cake with a knife in his back.
Chantilly has motive (Simon broke her heart to marry wealthy Waynetta Waverly) and opportunity (crashing the wedding in her UPS delivery truck). And she has cake on her face, and the stolen bridesmaid dress the killer wore is in her truck. But Chantilly would never wear crinoline to kill a man!
With the help of her flamboyant auntie, KiKi, and vexing but attractive attorney Walker Boone, Reagan is determined to save her friend—before she’s forced to turn in her brown uniform for an orange jumpsuit…
It’s election time in Savannah, Georgia, and Judge Guillotine Gloria—aka Reagan Summerside’s mom—is neck and neck in the polls with Kip "Scummy” Seymour. But the already dirty campaign is about to get downright filthy—with one candidate getting buried six feet under….
With her strong opinions and knack for getting into trouble, Reagan is not an ideal volunteer for her mother’s alderman campaign. Plus, she’d rather be running her consignment shop, the Prissy Fox, and eating doughnuts with her dog, Bruce Willis. But when her mother’s opponent, Kip, is found poisoned and her mother is pegged as a suspect, Reagan nominates herself as lead murder investigator.
Reagan is intent on finding Kip’s killer and clearing her mother’s good name, but she soon finds herself on the bad side of Kip’s enemies-turned-suspects. This time, no amount of costumes and makeup can keep her inconspicuous and out of danger. Because the closer Reagan gets to the truth, the hotter things get….
For more information on these and other books by Duffy Brown visit Goodreads or the author's website at www.duffybrown.com
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
From My TBR Pile: Pearls and Poison by Duffy Brown
It’s election time in Savannah, Georgia, and Judge Guillotine Gloria—aka Reagan Summerside’s mom—is neck and neck in the polls with Kip “Scummy” Seymour. But the already dirty campaign is about to get downright filthy—with one candidate getting buried six feet under…
With her strong opinions and knack for getting into trouble, Reagan is not an ideal volunteer for her mother’s alderman campaign. Plus, she’d rather be running her consignment shop, the Prissy Fox, and eating doughnuts with her dog, Bruce Willis. But when her mother’s opponent, Kip, is found poisoned and her mother is pegged as a suspect, Reagan nominates herself as lead murder investigator.
Reagan is intent on finding Kip’s killer and clearing her mother’s good name, but she soon finds herself on the bad side of Kip’s enemies-turned-suspects. This time, no amount of costumes and makeup can keep her inconspicuous and out of danger. Because the closer Reagan gets to the truth, the hotter things get…
First sentence:
"People are going to hate me if I do this," I said to Auntie Kiki.
Series: A Consignment Shop Mystery (Book 3)
Mass Market Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Berkley (March 4, 2014)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0425252485
ISBN-13: 978-0425252482
Friday, November 15, 2013
Guest Blogger: Bruce Willis from Iced Chiffon/Killer in Crinolines by Duffy Brown
When Reagan Summerside is asked to make an emergency bow-tie delivery to Magnolia Plantation for a wedding, she finds the groom face-down in five-tiers of icing and fondant, a cake knife in his back and her good friend and local UPS driver accused of the murder. Can Reagan find the real killer without winding up in the local swamp as alligator meat? Will Walker Boone, pain-in-the ass attorney and once-upon-a-time gang member, help her out or feed her to the alligators himself?
Pets in Cozy Mysteries
by the other Bruce Willis
by the other Bruce Willis
Bruce Willis here. The other Bruce Willis with ears, wagging tail and daily yard-waterer in Iced Chiffon and Killer in Crinolines.
Have you ever noticed all the pets running around in cozy mysteries? And most of them are cats! What the heck? How did that happen? Does a cat greet you at the door, get your slippers, clean the kitchen floor after you spill the bacon and eggs? No! Cats sniff, turn up their nose and prance off. Dogs have owners, Cats have staff!
But she’s an okay gal, even shared her McNuggets and fries with me but kept the martinis all to herself. I mean to tell you I could do with a martini or two on these hot summer nights.
Reagan has a consignment shop on the first floor of her half-restored Victorian. She and her Auntie KiKi who lives next door were going to name me Calvin Klein to fit in with the upscale clothes she takes in. One look at my mangled left ear, crooked tail and scared snout not to mention my questionable linage and they knew I was much better suited as Bruce Willis.
Life is good right now. Reagan says I’m the worse watchdog on the planet but I sure do make a lot of friends. If I fake a limp I can usually finesse a cookie or two from the customers and if I sit in front of the fridge long enough I get my daily dog…hot dog that is. The warm fall days here in Savannah are just made for me snoozing on the porch and one day I can get a slurp of Reagan’s peach martini.
So what is your opinion on pets in mysteries? Paw up or down? Do they distract too much from the mystery? Do you like it when they have a point of view? Do you like cats or dogs best in a book? (That’s spelled d-o-g)
About Duffy: While others girls dreamed of dating Brad Pitt, I longed to take Sherlock Holmes to the prom. I now have two cats, Spooky and Dr. Watson, and conjure up who-done-it stories of my very own for Berkley Prime Crime.
Visit me online at www.duffybrown.com and friend me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/authorduffybrown
This post first appeared at The Book Connection.
Friday, October 25, 2013
First Chapter Review: Iced Chiffon by Duffy Brown
Iced Chiffon is the first book in Duffy Brown's Consignment Shop Mystery series. The second book in this series, Killer in Crinolines, will be released in May. The author sent me a copy of Iced Chiffon as a thank you gift for hosting her in May.
Reagan’s messy divorce has left her with nothing but a run-down Victorian and a bunch of designer clothes. Strapped for cash, Reagan makes use of the two things she has left, turning the first floor of her home into a consignment shop and filling it with the remnants of her rich-wife wardrobe.
Thanks to his cunning lawyer Walker Boone, her ex got everything else, including the Lexus—not to mention a young blond cupcake. When Reagan finds the cupcake dead in the Lexus, she’s determined to beat Boone to finding the murderer. As it turns out, the gossip fiends flooding Reagan’s shop will give her a lot more than just their unwanted clothes—they have information more precious than a vintage Louis Vuitton…
COVER: This is a fabulous cover. You have to see it up close to appreciate it. The grandfather clock is tied into something from the first chapter--you'll have to read to find out what--and what the reader is looking at is the new first floor of Reagan's Victorian that has been turned into a consignment shop. Love the series logo with the orange hat. It also appears on the spine and on the back cover right above the author's website URL.
FIRST CHAPTER: It's only morning when Reagan dishes herself up a heavy helping of self-pity and the last of the pinot. Her lousy ex-husband has left her with a run-down house and a mountain of bills. He even took the Lexus she made the initial payment on. She should have listened to her mother and never married Hollis Beaumont. Reagan is stuck selling her furniture and her designer clothes to make ends meet. Snooty Raylene Carter paying a surprise visit early the next day might be the final straw.
KEEP READING: Oh yes. Brown has created a zany cast of characters centered around a down-on-her-luck woman coping with the aftermath of her messy divorce. Between her mother, Guillotine Gloria, a judge who doesn't get pushed around, her UPS driver and friend, Chantilly, quirky Aunt KiKi, and an uncle named Putter for his love of golf, you know you're bound to have some mischief.
You can't help but feel sorry for Reagan, kindly named after a certain conservative president. Her ex-husband has left her for a woman twenty years his junior and he's taken just about everything. Reagan is left to put her life back together and try to find some way to pay the bills.
Even if Savannah wasn't mentioned, you could quickly tell by the characters and the details the author provides that the story is set in the south. It's got charm. It's got food. It's got history. I can't wait to see what happens next. Based upon the synopsis, I know it's going to get interesting right quick.
Reading level: Ages 18 and up
Mass Market Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Berkley; Original edition (October 2, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0425251608
ISBN-13: 978-0425251607
I received a free copy of this book from the author. This review contains my honest opinions, for which I have not been compensated in any way.
This post first appeared at The Book Connection.
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