Monday, July 31, 2017

A Game of Deceit Interview & Giveaway

I'm pleased to welcome K.A. Davis to Cozy Up With Kathy today. Her novel, A GAME OF DECEIT, will be released tomorrow!

Kathy: In A GAME OF DECEIT Kathryn Landry's husband vanishes, just like her father did years before. What makes a disappearance more intriguing than a death?

KAD: Death brings finality and closure to the family. A disappearance, in my opinion, is crueler. A family is left always hoping for being reunited but as time passes the unknown can be torturous. Plus there is the mystery surrounding the disappearance: did the person leave of their own accord or was foul play involved? I think the unknown, the unexplained, adds a layer of darkness to an already horrible situation.

Kathy: Kathryn's mother took a secret with her to the grave. Does your family have any secrets or mysteries that you're aware of?

KAD: Definitely, but don’t most families? When I was a young girl my mother mentioned something about my father’s brother. I was intrigued because all I knew of were my two aunts… I had never heard of an uncle. When I questioned my father he was quite curt and said we were never going to talk about it and to never bring it up again. I couldn’t even find out my uncle’s name but eventually wheedled out of my mother that he had died. Last year I finally found out his name from one of his surviving sisters but I still don’t know the mystery surrounding him to this day… it’s a secret both of my parents took to their graves.

Then on my mother’s side of the family I heard mention that one of my great-great uncles (or something of that nature) was a horse thief. It was another instance where, as a young girl, I overheard adults talking and once I started asking questions was completely ignored and told to go play with my cousins. Maybe that’s why I have always enjoyed writing… I could make up stories and create answers to mysteries!

Kathy: Kathryn is the owner of a successful interior designer business in Newport Beach, California. Have you ever been interested in interior design. Do you enjoy decorating your own home?

KAD: Yes, I had wanted to be an interior designer in my younger years. Unfortunately the man I was married to at the time transferred with his job once a year so anytime I enrolled in classes I ended up having to drop out to move with him. However, I was in the happy position of building a new home from the dirt on up with my Mr. Right a few years ago. I LOVED being able to design every aspect of our home and especially had fun with my granddaughters’ bedrooms. I shadowed our interior designer quite a bit and picked up bits and pieces about her job too.

Kathy: What first drew you to novels of suspense?

KAD: I have always loved mysteries from the time I started reading chapter books through now. There are so many ways to classify suspense but I would describe it as a darker mystery with action. While I enjoy (and very frequently read) cozy and traditional mysteries, sometimes I like more of an edge to the story. That said, while A Game of Deceit is a suspense I did put a bit of cozy twist in it via the protagonist’s assistant, Marianne Patton.

Kathy: Do you write in any other genres?

KAD: While mysteries are my first love, my granddaughter convinced me that I needed to write a book for her. She is not a mystery fan (sob!) but instead loves fantasy. We plotted together one summer and I now have a completed early middle-grade manuscript that I’m looking to publish.

I’m also writing a cozy mystery series and am about 30% of the way through my first draft.

Kathy: Tell us about your series.

KAD: Well this is my very first book so I don’t have a series yet… I had planned on A Game of Deceit being a standalone but somehow I think Kathryn’s story isn’t quite finished yet. She still needs some closure on a few things she discovered while looking for her husband.

Kathy: Do you have a favorite character? If so, who and why?

KAD: When I started writing my novel over 17 years ago Kathryn was in my age bracket and I related more closely to her. But as I’ve aged and matured I find I have much more in common with her assistant, Marianne. Of course each time I did a rewrite I probably made Marianne’s traits a bit more like mine over the years!

Kathy: Did you have a specific inspiration for your series?

KAD: I did! When I was eighteen-years-old and visiting home for the first time in three months after moving away, I arrived home to find my mother crying. My dad decided to pack up all his belongings that very day and leave without telling my mom or giving her any warning. He didn’t even bother leaving her a note either. When I decided to start writing a novel that scenario was in the back of my mind and I started thinking “what if” it was something more sinister than another woman?

Kathy: What made you decide to publish your work?

KAD: I would say I’m a shy person so I didn’t tell anyone, except immediate family, that I was writing. But after doing my 10 or so rewrites decided to start letting other people read it. I received such positive comments and eventually I was able to secure an agent. She received great feedback from several publishers but no takers. After putting the manuscript away for a few years I brought it back out and did another rewrite and decided to self-publish. Through writing my blog I’ve connected with so many wonderful authors who have given me encouragement and practical advice on how to take the plunge… and here I am!

Kathy: If you could have a dinner party and invite 4 authors, living or dead, in any genre, who would you invite?

KAD: Oh my… so hard to narrow the list down! I love to laugh, especially at parties, so I would have to invite Jenn McKinlay for her wicked sense of humor along with Carl Hiaasen. Between those two, the party would not lack for entertainment! Marla Cooper because, not only would she keep us laughing, but she could play her ukulele for us, and Nadine Nettmann because she would make sure we had excellent wine to drink. But in all seriousness, if I had a dinner party I would have to invite at least 100 of my favorite authors!

Kathy: What are you currently reading?

KAD: Linda Fairstein’s new release, DEADFALL.

Kathy: Will you share any of your hobbies or interests with us?

KAD: When my first granddaughter was born over 15 years ago, I discovered cake and cookie decorating. I never realized I had a creative, artistic streak, but that medium has allowed me to expand my skills. One of the reasons I enjoy decorating edible items is that you never have to find a place to store them, like you do paintings or sculptures. Of course there’s the unintended “goes straight to the thighs” storage with my art, but I don’t get any complaints from my recipients.

I also love creating for my blog because it combines several hobbies all in one: reading, writing, baking, and photography. It’s allowed me to stretch and expand my skills, although it takes up more time than I would sometimes like.

Kathy: Name 4 items you always have in your fridge or pantry.

KAD: I always have some type of dark chocolate on hand; definitely cheese, often 3 or 4 varieties; a chilled half bottle of champagne (because life is too short to not drink champagne so I celebrate champagne Fridays every week); peanut butter and homemade blackberry jam – okay that’s 2 items but you need both for pb & j sandwiches.

Kathy: Do you have plans for future books either in your current series or a new series?

KAD: I’m currently writing a culinary cozy mystery. I’m not a very focused writer and am SO easily distracted but hopefully it won’t take me more than a year to finish this manuscript as opposed to the 17+ years it took for me to get A Game of Deceit to print. Depending on what happens with my children’s fantasy chapter book, there’s definitely a sequel waiting to be written… although my granddaughter reminds me I shouldn’t be waiting for it to publish and should be writing the next one already. Smart girl! I’ll get on that right after I…

Kathy: What's your favorite thing about being an author?

KAD: I think my favorite thing is connecting to so many people I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet, either in person or online. I’ve also found that the mystery community, whether authors or fans, is incredible supportive both with advice and encouragement! I feel so very fortunate to be a part of that!

: a Rafflecopter giveaway

Sunday, July 30, 2017

All Signs Point To Murder - An Astrological Guest Post & Giveaway

I've always been interested in astrology and Connie di Marco, who writes the Zodiac Mystery series, has agreed to share some information with us. Be sure to check out my review of ALL SIGNS POINT TO MURDER, the second book in the series, if you haven't already. Now...here's Connie:

Hi Kathy ~

Thanks so much for inviting me to visit today. And I’m so glad you’re curious about astrology. When I first thought about writing a mystery set in San Francisco, I wanted to invent an amateur sleuth with an unusual profession. What could be better than to make Julia Bonatti an astrologer? An astrologer whose clients bring her their problems and involve her in solving crimes!

The first time I saw an astrological chart I was awestruck. I thought the ancient symbols were fascinating and I wanted to learn more. Fast forward many years and finally I met an amateur astrologer who astounded me with her predictions and recommended some very good books. I was off and running. I do have a fairly decent library of astrology books now and I’ve done lots of reading and studying. Believe it or not, once you spend a lot of time experimenting with charts, it all becomes second nature.

There are many different branches of astrology. Sidereal astrology incorporates the precession of the equinoxes. I’ve worked a little with this method, but for me, the geocentric, tropical charts seem to work best. Mundane astrology relates to larger issues, like world events or the study of countries’ charts. Horary astrology is a very ancient practice with different rules. I know a little about this subject, but it’s not my field of expertise. It’s used when a client has a specific question. The astrologer sets up an exact chart for the day and hour and minute that the question is asked and that chart will provide the answer. It’s mindboggling, but it does really work. Electional astrology is useful for picking a date, for example, a wedding, so the marriage chart will be favorable.

Julia’s field of practice is a little different. She works with individual natal charts and relationship and composite charts. A natal or birth chart is a map of the solar system at the time of a person’s birth, with the earth at the center point of the circle. Planets above the horizon of the chart indicate a person who’s much involved with the outer world and how that world judges him or her. A chart with a heavy eastern (or left) emphasis would indicate an individual who is cautious, even fearful of connecting with others, while a western (or right emphasis) is someone who is very outgoing and easily able to connect with other people. The shape of a chart can tell a lot about a person.

The personal planets are the Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus and Mars. The heavier planets -- Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto are much slower moving and take a long time to travel through a zodiac sign. Their placement and aspects to the personal planets are important in a chart, but because Uranus, Neptune and Pluto are so slow-moving, a whole generation may share the same planet in the same sign.

For example, Pluto is a transformative planet, discovered in the 1930s and associated with the rise of gangsterism, mob rule and even atomic power. So Pluto in a larger sense represents transformation, even sometimes violent change. The Pluto in Leo generation, now older, is the generation that questioned authority (Leo) and instigated the rebellion of the 1960’s, the generation with Pluto in Libra (relationships) is now in their forties and instrumental in creating unique concepts of relationship -- hence the LGBT movements and the legalization of same sex marriage.

Each of the twelve houses represents a different area of life, and there are many levels to each house. For example, the sixth house shows the work one does on a daily basis, which may be quite different from a career or an avocation. It’s a house that’s related to the state of a person’s health and also a house to look at in terms of self-esteem. If there are difficult aspects to planets in that house or its ruler, there may be childhood problems that need to be addressed. Oh, and if there are questions about pets, that’s the house to look at.

It’s also important to look at axes, houses opposite each other – the 4^th-10^th house cusps, the 2^nd-8^th cusps, the 5^th-11^th. To give you one example, the fifth house represents ‘love given,’ while the opposite house, the 11^th, indicates ‘love received.’

The 4^th-10^th house axis is all about home (4^th) and career (10^th). Opposite issues. Or are they? They really can’t be separated. Both are important or show a need to maintain balance. This axis is also the parental axis – Mom and Dad. What was their relationship like? And how did the child relate to the parents?

I’ll touch upon the personal planets a bit, so you get an idea of these energies:

€ Your Sun, its zodiac sign, and the house it is placed in, and the aspects to it, delineate your basic nature, your life path, the ‘ego’ if you will.

‚ Your Moon, its zodiac sign and its house describes your emotional nature, your needs and feelings. It also has a lot to do with health, as does the sign on the Ascendant or first house. A person with a Moon in Gemini (`) relates to others from a mental perspective, perhaps not really experiencing their emotions, while someone with the Moon in Cancer (a)will be extra super-sensitive.

Mercury indicates how you think, your mental abilities, speech and the written word. A person with Mercury closely connected to Pluto in their natal chart might be obsessive. Opposed to Uranus, Mercury can be highly intuitive and perhaps speaks before they think.

^♀

Venus describes your love nature (and has a lot to do with how you treat money). If Saturn forms a close tie to your natal Venus, you might be very conservative and tight with a buck, too concerned with security to spend your money (or your love), but if it’s opposed to Jupiter, you might be overly generous or too free with your money (or your love).

^♂

Mars is the planet of doing-ness, how you accomplish tasks, how you deal with anger and so on. In a fiery sign, Mars is hot-headed. Combined with Uranus, it can indicate an explosive temper. Opposed by Saturn, the individual has a hard time deciding when to move forward and when to step on the brakes, and it can take until the middle years before the individual feels comfortable with that aspect.

Julia in the Zodiac Mysteries is a Sagittarian (f), a fire sign, so she’s a bit headstrong and impulsive. It’s probably one of the reasons she leaps before she looks and gets herself into a lot of trouble investigating crimes. But she does have some interesting adventures!

If you’d like to learn more, I highly recommend books by Noel Tyl (www.noeltyl.com), Steven Arroyo, Liz Greene, or Robert Hand. They happen to be my faves, but there are many more brilliant and talented astrologers who are researching, writing and breaking new ground in the field. There’s a lot to learn, but well worth the journey!

*********************************************************************************************************************

All Signs Point to Murder

by Connie di Marco

on Tour July 23 - August 23, 2017

Synopsis:

Rob Ramer was the perfect husband until he committed the ultimate family faux pas — he shot his sister-in-law to death. Believing himself under attack by an intruder in his home, he fired back. But when evidence is discovered that Rob’s wife, Brooke, was plotting his murder, Brooke is charged with conspiracy in her sister’s death. Geneva, a third sister, is desperate for answers and seeks the help of her friend, San Francisco astrologer Julia Bonatti. Geneva’s lost one sister and now it seems she’ll lose the other. Was this a murder plot or just a terrible accident? Julia vows to find the answer in the stars.

Book Details:
Genre: Mystery, Paranormal
Published by: Midnight Ink
Publication Date: August 2017
Number of Pages:336
ISBN: 0738751073 (ISBN13: 9780738751078)
Series: A Zodiac Mystery, 2 | Each is a Stand Alone Mystery
Purchase Links: Amazon  | Barnes & Noble  | IndieBound  | Goodreads 

Read an excerpt:

The building on Guerrero was a once proud Victorian with bow front windows. It had since been broken up into six small units and fallen into disrepair. I drove around the block several times before I managed to find a parking spot a few doors down. The shops on the main street were long closed and the streets deserted. I shivered and let the car heater run another minute to warm up before I left the comfort of my little metal box. There was something about this chore that made my stomach go into knots. Rummaging through a dead woman’s possessions was bad enough, but what if I found something that implicated Moira in a crime? Should I remove it and risk the police finding out?
I climbed out of the car, careful to lock it and approached the long stairway leading to the front door. The wind had died down and now fog danced around the streetlights. It was eerily quiet. No lights shone from any of the windows. I hoped all the residents were safely tucked up in their beds by now. I climbed the cracked granite stairs to the entrance. The weathered door stood ajar, listing slightly on its hinges. I grasped the handle and twisted it, but the lock mechanism was out of commission. Inside, a bare overhead light bulb hung from a chain. It cast a meager glow down the long corridor, cannibalized from a once grand entryway. The hallway smelled of dirty cat litter, moldy vegetables and cigarette smoke. I followed the corridor to the end, and stopped at the last door on the right.
I slipped the key into the lock. It offered no resistance. The door opened immediately. Had it not been locked? I caught a slight scuffling sound and cringed. I hoped no furry long-tailed creatures were waiting inside for me. I reached around the doorway and felt along the wall. My fingers hit the switch. A rusting chandelier with two bulbs missing illuminated the one large room that was both Moira’s living room and bedroom. I tested the key with the door open, locking and then unlocking it. Now I felt the resistance. The door had definitely been unlocked. I stepped inside and shut it behind me, making sure the lock was secure. Was it possible someone had been here before me and left without locking the door? Or had Moira simply been careless?
I had to make sure I was alone in the apartment. There were no hiding places in this sparsely furnished room. I checked under the bed just to be sure and opened the closet, terrified that someone or something might jump out at me. The closet was narrow, filled with a jumble of clothing, half on the floor. I walked into the kitchenette and spotted a doorway that led to the back stairs and the yard. I tested the handle on the door. Locked. I checked the space between the refrigerator and the wall, and then the shower stall in the bathroom. I was alone. I had been holding my breath and finally let it out in a great sigh.
I started with the drawers in the kitchen and checked the counter, looking for any notes with names or phone numbers. There was nothing. The kitchen was surprisingly clean, as if Moira had never used the room. Inside the refrigerator were a few condiments, a half-eaten unwrapped apple and a loaf of whole wheat bread. I quickly rummaged through the drawers and the freezer to make sure there were no bundles of cash disguised as frozen meat.
The main room housed a collection of hand-me-downs and broken furniture, ripped curtains and piles of clothing in various spots around the floor. Had she really lived like this? I heaved up the mattress, first on one side and then the other, making sure nothing was hidden between it and the box spring. Under the bed, I spotted only dust bunnies. I pulled open each of the bureau drawers, checked their contents and pulled them all the way out to make sure nothing was behind them. I opened a small drawer in the bedside stand. Amid a loose pile of clutter was a dark blue velvet box embossed with the letter “R” in cursive gold script. Could this be from Rochecault? I was fairly certain it was. Rochecault is an infamously expensive jeweler on Maiden Lane downtown. How could Moira have shopped there? Was this what Geneva had meant when she said her sister seemed to have a lot of money to spend?
I opened the box and gasped. An amazing bracelet heavy with blue stones in varying colors rested inside. The setting had the slightly matte industrial sheen of platinum. Moira couldn’t possibly have afforded this. Shoving the box into a side pocket of my purse, I decided I was definitely not leaving this for the police to find, and slid the drawer shut.
I scanned the room. Moira hadn’t been much of a housekeeper and it didn’t appear as if there were many hiding spots. I headed for the desk, a rickety affair with two drawers and a monitor on top. I clicked on the hard drive and waited a moment. The monitor came to life and asked for a password. It would take someone much more talented than I to unearth its secrets. Under a jumble of papers and unopened bills, my eye caught a small black notebook. This looked promising. Perhaps it was an address book that would give us all of Moira’s contacts. I dropped my purse on the floor and reached for the book. A searing pain shot through my skull. Blinded, I fell to the floor.
***
Excerpt from All Signs Point to Murder by Connie di Marco. Copyright © 2017 by Connie di Marco. Reproduced with permission from Connie di Marco. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Connie di Marco is the author of the Zodiac Mysteries from Midnight Ink, featuring San Francisco astrologer, Julia Bonatti. The first in the series, The Madness of Mercury, was released in June 2016 and the second, All Signs Point to Murder, available for pre-order now, will be released on August 8, 2017.
Writing as Connie Archer, she is also the national bestselling author of the Soup Lover’s Mystery series from Berkley Prime Crime. Some of her favorite recipes can be found in The Cozy Cookbook and The Mystery Writers of America Cookbook. Connie is a member of International Thriller Writers, Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.

Catch Up With Connie di Marco On: Website , Goodreads , Twitter , & Facebook !

Tour Participants:

Giveaway:

This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Connie di Marco. There will be 1 winner of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card AND 2 winners of one (1) eBook copy of All Signs Point to Murder. The giveaway begins on July 21 and runs through August 24, 2017.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours

Friday, July 28, 2017

All Signs Point to Murder - Review & Giveaway

Review

ALL SIGNS POINT TO MURDER by Connie di Marco

The Second Zodiac Mystery

Geneva Leary was there for Julia Bonatti when Julia's world came crashing down upon the death of her fiance. Now Julia is a bridesmaid at Geneva's wedding. The happy day is not quite so happy as the bride's youngest ne'er do well sister, Moira, disappears and misses the ceremony, only to be found passed out later. The wedding consultant collapses during the reception and angry words are spoken by more than one family member. Julia spends the night at the family home only to be woken by shots fired. Rob, Geneva's brother-in-law, has shot who he thought was an intruder, but actually is Moira. Did Moira truly shoot first? Was someone else in the garage? Julia strives to help as the family falls apart. Is the answer in the stars?

Connie di Marco delves into dysfunctional families, friendships, and Julia's past in her second Zodiac mystery. ALL SIGNS POINT TO MURDER falls into the cozy realm, whereas her first book in the series was distinctly darker and not a cozy in my book. While lighter in style, ALL SIGNS POINT TO MURDER has a few heart stopping, thriller moments, and great depth in its subject matter, characterization, and writing.

ALL SIGNS POINT TO MURDER is a complex mystery with a major twist! I love the astrological aspect to the series. Julia not only works as a professional astrologer, but shows how the stars can impact every day life as well as major events and even personalities. I wish I could meet up with Julia, have a drink, and have her look at my chart.

All Signs Point to Murder

by Connie di Marco

on Tour July 23 - August 23, 2017

Synopsis:

Book Details:
Genre: Mystery, Paranormal
Published by: Midnight Ink
Publication Date: August 2017
Number of Pages:336
ISBN: 0738751073 (ISBN13: 9780738751078)
Series: A Zodiac Mystery, 2 | Each is a Stand Alone Mystery
Purchase Links: Amazon  | Barnes & Noble  | IndieBound  | Goodreads 

Read an excerpt:

Author Bio:

Catch Up With Connie di Marco On: Website , Goodreads , Twitter , & Facebook !

Tour Participants:

Giveaway:

This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Connie di Marco. There will be 1 winner of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card AND 2 winners of one (1) eBook copy of All Signs Point to Murder. The giveaway begins on July 21 and runs through August 24, 2017.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Currently Reading...

I'm currently reading Cat About Town by Cate Conte. This book is the first in the Cat Cafe Mystery series and will be released August 1st.

Maddie James has left her juice bar in San Francisco in the capable hands of her business partner as she returns to Daybreak Island in New England to be there when her grandmother dies. After the funeral Maddie is concerned about her grandfather, especially when she discovers he's not doing well financially and the chamber of commerce leader is trying to coerce him into selling the family home. Maddie's not about to let anyone threaten her family and warns the man off, publicly. It's only a few hours later, as she chases after her new cat friend that they come across his body, murdered in a tent on the Food Stroll. Maddie realizes she could be the number one suspect, but could her grandfather, the former Chief of Police, really be suspect number 2?

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Last Breath - Spotlight

Last Breath

by Karin Slaughter

on Tour July 24 - August 4, 2017

Synopsis:

Protecting someone always comes at a cost.

At the age of thirteen, Charlie Quinn's childhood came to an abrupt and devastating end. Two men, with a grudge against her lawyer father, broke into her home—and after that shocking night, Charlie's world was never the same.
Now a lawyer herself, Charlie has made it her mission to defend those with no one else to turn to. So when Flora Faulkner, a motherless teen, begs for help, Charlie is reminded of her own past, and is powerless to say no.
But honor-student Flora is in far deeper trouble than Charlie could ever have anticipated. Soon she must ask herself: How far should she go to protect her client? And can she truly believe everything she is being told?
Razor-sharp and lightning-fast, this electrifying story from the #1 international bestselling author will leave you breathless. And be sure to read Karin Slaughter's extraordinary new novel The Good Daughter—available August 8, 2017.

Book Details:
Genre: Thriller, Suspense
Published by: William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins
Publication Date: July 11th 2017
Number of Pages: 48
ISBN: 0062742159 (ISBN13: 9780062742155)
Series: Good Daughter 0.5
Purchase Links: Amazon  | Barnes & Noble  | Goodreads 

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One
“Come on now, Miss Charlie.” Dexter Black’s voice was scratchy over the jailhouse payphone. He was fifteen years her senior, but the “miss” was meant to convey respect for their respective positions. “I told you I’m’a take care of your bill soon as you get me outta this mess.”
Charlie Quinn rolled her eyes up so far in her head that she felt dizzy. She was standing outside a packed room of Girl Scouts at the YWCA. She should not have taken the call, but there were few worse things than being surrounded by a gaggle of teenage girls. “Dexter, you said the exact same thing the last time I got you out of trouble, and the minute you walked out of rehab, you spent all of your money on lottery tickets.”
“I could’a won, and then I would’a paid you out half. Not just what I owe you, Miss Charlie. Half.”
“That’s very generous, but half of nothing is nothing.” She waited for him to come up with another excuse, but all she heard was the distinct murmur of the North Georgia Men’s Detention Center. Bars being rattled. Expletives being shouted. Grown men crying. Guards telling them all to shut the hell up.
She said, “I’m not wasting my anytime cell-phone minutes on your silence.”
“I got something,” Dexter said. “Something gonna get me paid.”
“I hope it’s not anything you wouldn’t want the police to find out about on a recorded phone conversation from jail.” Charlie wiped sweat from her forehead. The hallway was like an oven. “Dexter, you owe me almost two thousand dollars. I can’t be your lawyer for free. I’ve got a mortgage and school loans and I’d like to be able to eat at a nice restaurant occasionally without worrying my credit card will be declined.”
“Miss Charlie,” Dexter repeated. “I see what you were doing there, reminding me about the phone being recorded, but what I’m saying is that I got something might be worth some money to the police.”
“You should get a good lawyer to represent you in the negotiations, because it’s not going to be me.”
“Wait, wait, don’t hang up,” Dexter pleaded. “I’m just remembering what you told me all them years ago when we first started. You remember that?”
Charlie’s eye roll was not as pronounced this time. Dexter had been her first client when she’d set up shop straight out of law school.
He said, “You told me that you passed up them big jobs in the city ’cause you wanted to help people.” He paused for effect. “Don’t you still wanna help people, Miss Charlie?”
She mumbled a few curses that the phone monitors at the jail would appreciate. “Carter Grail,” she said, offering him the name of another lawyer.
“That old drunk?” Dexter sounded picky for a man wearing an orange prison jumpsuit. “Miss Charlie, please can you—”
“Don’t sign anything that you don’t understand.” Charlie flipped her phone closed and dropped it into her purse. A group of women in bike shorts walked past. The YWCA mid-morning crowd consisted of retirees and young mothers. She could hear a distant thump-thump-thump of heavy bass from an exercise class. The air smelled of chlorine from the indoor pool. Thunks from the tennis courts penetrated the double-paned windows.
Charlie leaned back against the wall. She replayed Dexter’s call in her head. He was in jail again. For meth again. He was probably thinking he could snitch on a fellow meth head, or a dealer, and make the charges go away. If he didn’t have a lawyer looking over the deal from the district attorney’s office, he would be better off holding his nuts and buying more lottery tickets.
She felt bad about his situation, but not as bad as she felt about the prospect of being late on her car payment.
The door to the rec room opened. Belinda Foster looked panicked. She was twenty-eight, the same age as Charlie, but with a toddler at home, a baby on the way and a husband she talked about as if he was another burdensome child. Taking over Girl Scout career day had not been Belinda’s stupidest mistake this summer, but it was in the top three.
“Charlie!” Belinda tugged at the trefoil scarf around her neck. “If you don’t get back in here, I’m gonna throw myself off the roof.”
“You’d only break your neck.”
Belinda pulled open the door and waited.
Charlie nudged around her friend’s very pregnant belly. Nothing had changed in the rec room since her ringing cell phone had given her respite from the crowd. All of the oxygen was being sucked up by twenty fresh-faced, giggling Girl Scouts ranging from the ages of fifteen to eighteen. Charlie tried not to shudder at the sight of them. She had a tiny smidge over a decade on most of the girls, but there was something familiar about each and every one of them.
The math nerds. The future English majors. The cheerleaders. The Plastics. The goths. The dorks. The freaks. The geeks. They all flashed the same smiles at each other, the kind that edged up at the corners of their mouths because, at any time, one of them could pull a proverbial knife: a haircut might look stupid, the wrong color nail polish could be on fingernails, the wrong shoes, the wrong tights, the wrong word and suddenly you were on the outside looking in.
Charlie could still recall what it felt like to be stuck in the purgatory of the outside. There was nothing more torturous, more lonely, than being iced out by a gaggle of teenage girls.
“Cake?” Belinda offered her a paper-thin slice of sheet cake.
“Hm,” was all Charlie could say. Her stomach felt queasy. She couldn’t stop her gaze from traveling around the sparsely furnished rec room. The girls were all young, thin and beautiful in a way that Charlie did not appreciate when she was among them. Short miniskirts. Tight T-shirts and blouses opened one button too many. They seemed so frighteningly confident. They flicked back their long, fake blonde hair as they laughed. They narrowed expertly made-up eyes as they listened to stories. Sashes were askew. Vests were unbuttoned. Some of these girls were in serious violation of the Girl Scout dress code.
Charlie said, “I can’t remember what we talked about when we were that age.”
“That the Culpepper girls were a bunch of bitches.”
Charlie winced at the name of her torturers. She took the plate from Belinda, but only to keep her hands occupied. “Why aren’t any of them asking me questions?”
“We never asked questions,” Belinda said, and Charlie felt instant regret that she had spurned all the career women who had spoken at her Girl Scout meetings. The speakers had all seemed so old. Charlie was not old. She still had her badge-filled sash in a closet somewhere at home. She was a kick-ass lawyer. She was married to an adorable guy. She was in the best shape of her life. These girls should think she was awesome. They should be inundating her with questions about how she got to be so cool instead of snickering in their little cliques, likely discussing how much pig’s blood to put in a bucket over Charlie’s head.
“I can’t believe their make-up,” Belinda said. “My mother almost scrubbed the eyes off my face when I tried to sneak out with mascara on.”
Charlie’s mother had been killed when she was thirteen, but she could recall many a lecture from Lenore, her father’s secretary, about the dangerous message sent by too-tight Jordache jeans.
Not that Lenore had been able to stop her.
Belinda said, “I’m not going to raise Layla like that.” She meant her three-year-old daughter, who had somehow turned out to be a thoughtful, angelic child despite her mother’s lifelong love of beer pong, tequila shooters, and unemployed guys who rode motorcycles. “These girls, they’re sweet, but they have no sense of shame. They think everything they do is okay. And don’t even get me started on the sex. The things they say in meetings.” She snorted, leaving out the best part. “We were never like that.”
Charlie had seen quite the opposite, especially when a Harley was involved. “I guess the point of feminism is that they have choices, not that they do exactly what we think they should do.”
“Well, maybe, but we’re still right and they’re still wrong.”
“Now you sound like a mother.” Charlie used her fork to cut off a section of chocolate frosting from the cake. It landed like paste on her tongue. She handed the plate back to Belinda. “I was terrified of disappointing my mom.”
Belinda finished the cake. “I was terrified of your mom, period.”
Charlie smiled, then she put her hand to her stomach as the frosting roiled around like driftwood in a tsunami.
“You okay?” Belinda asked.
Charlie held up her hand. The sickness came over her so suddenly that she couldn’t even ask where the bathroom was.
Belinda knew the look. “It’s down the hall on the—”
Charlie bolted out of the room. She kept her hand tight to her mouth as she tried doors. A closet. Another closet.
A fresh-faced Girl Scout was coming out of the last door she tried.
“Oh,” the teenager said, flinging up her hands, backing away.
Charlie ran into the closest stall and sloughed the contents of her stomach into the toilet. The force was so much that tears squeezed out of her eyes. She gripped the side of the bowl with both hands. She made grunting noises that she would be ashamed for any human being to hear.
But someone did hear.
“Ma’am?” the teenager asked, which somehow made everything worse, because Charlie was not old enough to be called ma’am. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, thank you. You can go away.” Charlie bit her lip so that she wouldn’t curse the helpful little creature like a dog. She searched for her purse. It was outside the stall. Her wallet had fallen out, her keys, a pack of gum, loose change. The strap dragged across the greasy-looking tile floor like a tail. She started to reach out for it, but gave up when her stomach clenched. All she could do was sit on the filthy bathroom floor, gather her hair up off her neck, and pray that her troubles would be confined to one end of her body.
“Ma’am?” the girl repeated.
Charlie desperately wanted to tell her to get the hell out, but couldn’t risk opening her mouth. She waited, eyes closed, listening to the silence, begging her ears to pick out the sound of the door closing as the girl left.
Instead, the faucet was turned on. Water ran into the sink. Paper towels were pulled from the dispenser.
Charlie opened her eyes. She flushed the toilet. Why on earth was she so ill?
It couldn’t be the cake. Charlie was lactose intolerant, but Belinda would never make anything from scratch. Canned frosting was 99 percent chemicals, usually not enough to send her over the edge. Was it the happy chicken from General Ho’s she’d had for supper last night? The egg roll she’d sneaked out of the fridge before going to bed? The luncheon meat she’d scarfed down before her morning run? The breakfast burrito fiesta she’d gotten at Taco Bell on the way to the Y?
Jesus, she ate like a sixteen-year-old boy.
The faucet turned off.
Charlie should have at least opened the stall door, but a quick survey of the damage changed her mind. Her navy skirt was hiked up. Pantyhose ripped. There were splatters on her white silk blouse that would likely never come out. Worst of all, she had scuffed the toe of her new shoe, a navy high-heel Lenore had helped her pick out for court.
“Ma’am?” the teen said. She was holding a wet paper towel under the stall door.
“Thank you,” Charlie managed. She pressed the cool towel to the back of her neck and closed her eyes again. Was this a stomach bug?
“Ma’am, I can get you something to drink,” the girl offered.
Charlie almost threw up again at the thought of Belinda’s cough-mediciney punch. If the girl was not going to leave, she might as well be put to use. “There’s some change in my wallet. Do you mind getting a ginger ale from the machine?”
The girl knelt down on the floor. Charlie saw the familiar khaki-colored sash with badges sewn all over it. Customer Loyalty. Business Planning. Marketing. Financial Literacy. Top Seller. Apparently, she knew how to move some cookies.
Charlie said, “The bills are in the side.”
The girl opened her wallet. Charlie’s driver’s license was in the clear plastic part. “I thought your last name was Quinn?”
“It is. At work. That’s my married name.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Four and a half years.”
“My gran says it takes five years before you hate them.”
Charlie could not imagine ever hating her husband. She also couldn’t imagine keeping up her end of this under-stall conversation. The urge to puke again was tickling at the back of her throat.
“Your dad is Rusty Quinn,” the girl said, which meant that she has been in town for more than ten minutes. Charlie’s father had a reputation in Pikeville because of the clients he defended—convenience store robbers, drug dealers, murderers and assorted felons. How people in town viewed Rusty generally depended on whether or not they or a family member ever needed his services.
The girl said, “I heard he helps people.”
“He does.” Charlie did not like how the words echoed back to Dexter’s reminder that she had turned down hundreds of thousands of dollars a year in the city so that she could work for people who really needed her. If there was one guiding ethos in Charlie’s life, it was that she was not going to be like her father.
“I bet he’s expensive.” The girl asked, “Are you expensive? I mean, when you help people?”
Charlie put her hand to her mouth again. How could she ask this teenager to please get her some ginger ale without screaming at her?
“I enjoyed your speech,” the girl said. “My mom was killed in a car accident when I was little.”
Charlie waited for context, but there was none. The girl slid a dollar bill out of Charlie’s wallet and finally, thankfully, left.
There was nothing to do in the ensuing silence but see if she could stand. Charlie had fortuitously ended up in the handicapped stall. She gripped the metal rails and shakily pulled herself up to standing. She spat into the toilet a few times before flushing it again. When she opened the stall door, the mirror greeted her with a pale, sickly-looking woman in a $120 puke-spotted silk blouse. Her dark hair looked wild. Her lips had a bluish tint.
Charlie lifted her hair, holding it in a ponytail. She turned on the sink and slurped water into her mouth. She caught her reflection again as she leaned down to spit.
Her mother’s eyes looked back at her. Her mother’s arched eyebrow.
What’s going on in that mind of yours, Charlie?
Charlie had heard this question at least three or four times a week back when her mother was alive. She would be sitting in the kitchen doing her homework, or on the floor of her room trying to do some kind of craft project, and her mother would sit opposite her and ask the same question that she always asked.
What is going on in your mind?
It was not contrived to be a conversation starter. Her mother was a scientist and a scholar. She had never been one for idle chitchat. She was genuinely curious about what thoughts filled her thirteen-year-old daughter’s head.
Until Charlie had met her husband, no one else had ever expressed such genuine interest.
The door opened. The girl was back with a ginger ale. She was pretty, though not conventionally so. She did not seem to fit in with her perfectly coifed peers. Her dark hair was long and straight, pinned back with a silver clip on one side. She was young-looking, probably fifteen, but her face was absent of make-up. Her crisp green Girl Scout T-shirt was tucked into her faded jeans, which Charlie felt was unfair because in her day they had been forced to wear scratchy white button-up shirts and khaki skirts with knee socks.
Charlie did not know which felt worse, that she had thrown up or that she had just employed the phrase, “in her day.”
“I’ll put the change in your wallet,” the girl offered.
“Thank you.” Charlie drank some of the ginger ale while the girl neatly repacked the contents of her purse.
The girl said, “Those stains on your blouse will come out with a mixture of a tablespoon of ammonia, a quart of warm water and a half a teaspoon of detergent. You soak it in a bowl.”
“Thank you again.” Charlie wasn’t sure she wanted to soak anything she owned in ammonia, but judging by the badges on the sash, the girl knew what she was talking about. “How long have you been in Girl Scouts?”
“I got my start as a Brownie. My mom signed me up. I thought it was lame, but you learn lots of things, like business skills.”
“My mom signed me up, too.” Charlie had never thought it was lame. She had loved all the projects and the camping trips and especially eating the cookies she had made her parents buy. “What’s your name?”
“Flora Faulkner,” she said. “My mom named me Florabama, because I was born on the state line, but I go by Flora.”
Charlie smiled, but only because she knew that she was going to laugh about this later with her husband. “There are worse things that you could be called.”
Flora looked down at her hands. “A lot of the girls are pretty good at thinking of mean things.”
Clearly, this was some kind of opening, but Charlie was at a loss for words. She combed back through her knowledge of after-school specials. All she could remember was that movie of the week where Ted Danson is married to Glenn Close and she finds out that he’s molesting their teenage daughter but she’s been cold in bed so it’s probably her fault so they all go to therapy and learn to live with it.
“Miss Quinn?” Flora put Charlie’s purse on the counter. “Do you want me to get you some crackers?”
“No, I’m
Excerpt from Last Breath by Karin Slaughter. Copyright © 2017 by Karin Slaughter. Reproduced with permission from HarperCollins. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Karin Slaughter is one of the world’s most popular and acclaimed storytellers. Published in 36 languages, with more than 35 million copies sold across the globe, her sixteen novels include the Grant County and Will Trent books, as well as the Edgar-nominated Cop Town and the instant New York Times bestselling novel Pretty Girls. A native of Georgia, Karin currently lives in Atlanta. Her Will Trent series, Grant County series, and standalone novel Cop Town are all in development for film and television.

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