Milo Everhart and her artist friends fight City Hall when it
threatens to sell their beloved Torpedo Factory Art Center to a big box store
magnate. Things get complicated when their greatest adversary turns out to be
the man Milo loves, and even more complicated when too many murder victims turn
up.
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| Old Town Alexandria at Christmas |
Blurb:
It’s just before Christmas, and Milo Everhart has two
needlepoint stockings, a cross-stitch purse, and three canvases to finish for
her clients. Waiting out the rain in a pub, she is captivated by the handsome
man next to her, but blocking the road to romance are two mysterious corpses who
turn up in the tower of her Torpedo Factory Art Center. As if that weren’t
enough, a second crisis erupts—a proposal to gut her beloved Art Center.
Tristram Brodie, hard-driving corporate lawyer and former
Marine, is focused on his plan to convert the Torpedo Factory into a box store.
He is drawn to the beautiful woman sitting next to him, but their mutual
attraction will be frustrated by both the murders and his intentions. As they
edge closer to love, they must find a way to overcome both their differences
and the still-fresh memory of her late husband.
Artful Dodging: the Torpedo Factory
Murders
Wild
Rose Press, 7/20/2016; Imprint Crimson Rose
Theme(s):
Mystery/Cozy Mystery
Contemporary romantic Suspense, M/F, 2 flames
Ebook,
66,830 words; Print 268 p
Excerpt (G): The Body
“Hello! Hello? 911?”
“Please state the nature of
your emergency.”
“A body. There’s a b…b…body.”
The word came out as a gurgle.
“Yes, ma’am. Now tell me where
you are.”
Milo looked wildly around the
darkened corridor. “Second floor. No lights.”
“Ma’am? Second floor of what?”
“Oh, er, the Torpedo Factory. I
ran downstairs. I…”
“The Torpedo Factory? You mean
the building at 105 North Union Street?”
Milo almost snapped, “How many
torpedo factories do you know?” but thought better of it. “Yes.”
“All right, ma’am. Now, you say
you’ve found a body? Is it dead?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course
it’s dead. Dead. A dead body. In the office.”
“The office?”
“The tower. Look, can you send the
police? I’m all alone in the building. Except for the body, of course. I mean,
it’s pitch black in here. Please?” She knew she sounded less than rational, but
weren’t 911 operators trained to weed out the gibberish and cut to the chase?
“I’ve already sent out a call.
The police should be arriving any minute. Now, will they be able to enter the
building?”
“Oh! Er. I don’t know. Archie’s
already locked up.”
“Archie?”
“The super. He’s long gone,
though.”
“Can you get to a door to let
them in?”
Milo’s shoes must have found
bubble gum on the floor all by themselves, since they appeared to be stuck.
“I…uh…I can’t get to the doors.” Nothing but silence on the other end. She must think I’m lazy. Or a coward. I’ll
bet she knows how to wait people out, to force them to do her bidding. “I’m
not lazy, miss. I’m just…I’m
wondering. What if the murderer is hiding somewhere, still in the building?”
“Murderer? You think the victim
was murdered?”
Every CSI show she’d ever watched, plus a couple of X Files, fast-forwarded through her brain. Somewhere in the reruns
she found the answer. “I don’t know. That’s for the experts to decide.” Thank you, Gil Grissom.
“Okay, ma’am. Listen to me
carefully. If the building is locked, the police will have to break the door
down, but first they’ll have to go to a judge and get a search warrant. So you
see, the quickest way they can help you is if you let them in. Now, do you
think you can go down the stairs to the door?”
Milo drew in a long, ragged
breath, holding it until her head began to spin. As she let it out, she
managed, “Yes. I’m on the landing. Can you stay on the line with me in case I’m
attacked?”
“I sure will.”
Milo felt her way with one hand
toward the middle stairwell. “I’m on the stairs now. Now I’m walking down the
stairs.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The central staircase of the
factory only had a single metal railing and thus was exposed to the entire main
hall. If anyone still lurked in the building he could easily see (and hear)
her. She stopped halfway down and looked across the main lobby to the front
entrance, a set of doublewide, glass-paned sliding doors. “There are flashing
lights and sirens coming from Union Street.”
“Yes, ma’am. That would be the
police.”
Well, duh.
Artful Dodging
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