Tag Archives: serial killers

Pretty Evil New England

Sue Coletta is a long-time friend of mine. Her fiction is fantastic, but today she has something that isn’t fiction. It’s going to make your skin crawl, and is perfect for this time of year. Make Sue feel welcome, and make sure to use those sharing buttons at the end.

Thanks for inviting me back to Entertaining Stories, Craig!

Ever wonder what drives someone to kill?

While researching the cases of the five female serial killers in Pretty Evil New England, I examined their entire lives, not only their crimes. To show a complete picture — and perhaps, to help explain their motivations — I delved into their backgrounds, childhoods, and early adulthood.

The horrors I found could rattle the foundation beneath even the most stoic, and I couldn’t help but be affected.

Jane Toppan in particular had a brutal beginning. Her mother died when she was a mere toddler and her father — nicknamed “Kelley the crack” as in “crackpot” — was such a severe alcoholic, the townsfolk would catch him stumbling down the street while muttering to himself. You know the type. When Jane was only five, Peter Kelley (her father) dropped her off at an asylum. Yes, you read that right. An asylum!

Imagine what that does to a child? And that’s only one small piece of what led to her ultimate destruction, and sadly, to the destruction of many others as well.

Now, you may be thinking, no matter the circumstances, she still didn’t have the right to murder innocent people. You’re right. But it does shed an interesting light on why she turned out the way she did.

This sounds like a segway into an excerpt about her childhood, doesn’t it? Yeah, it’s not. LOL What fun would that be? The following excerpt continues from the story I shared on Staci’s blog, where Jane is in the middle of murdering her friend, Mattie Davis, in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. The passages in italics are Jane’s words, taken from her confession. Enjoy!

EXCERPT

The following afternoon, Wednesday, June 26, Genevieve arrived at the Beedles’ home to find her mother lying unconscious in a darkened room hung with ice sheets; Nurse Toppan sat by her mother’s sickbed. Even though Jane said she could care for Mattie without assistance, Genevieve insisted on calling a physician to take a look at her. But the blistering eastern heat wave of 1901—the most destructive disaster of its type in US history—caused many to flee the city. Finding a doctor wasn’t easy under these circumstances.

After telephoning four different general practitioners, the Beedles finally reached Dr. John T. G. Nichols—the same man who misdiagnosed arsenic poisoning fifteen years earlier in the Sarah Jane Robinson case. Now, he would be called to the bedside of another victim of a female serial killer. Would he redeem himself or cause this patient to perish by misdiagnosing her symptoms? And more importantly, allow “Jolly Jane” to keep on killing?

Only time would tell. Unfortunately for him and Mattie Davis, Dr. Nichols had no idea who he was up against.

Jane introduced herself as “Nurse Toppan, an old friend of the Davis family.” Then she informed Dr. Nichols that Mattie was a diabetic. Earlier, Mattie had refused to heed Jane’s warnings and treated herself to a nice slice of Mrs. Beedle’s white-frosted velvet cake at dinnertime, Jane claimed, collapsing shortly thereafter, probably due to her overindulgence. There was no need for the doctor to take more urine; Jane had collected a sample for him to test before he arrived.

By all accounts, Jane appeared to be a competent caretaker. With no reason to suspect Nurse Toppan of anything nefarious, how could he have known she’d tampered with the sample?

Under the watchful eyes of Dr. Nichols, Genevieve Gordon, and Mr. and Mrs. Beedle, Jane toyed with Mattie Davis, reveling in her control over life and death. By varying the doses of atropine, a derivative of belladonna, which counteracted the effects of the morphine she’d also administered, Jane produced a wide range of symptoms.

If Jane lessened the dose of narcotic, Mattie would shake out of the foggy haze of partial consciousness. She even allowed Mattie to rise to full lucidity, as though to offer the family a glimmer of hope before plunging her back into a medicinally induced coma.

I always had my own way. I would not allow either the doctors or members of the family where I was working to dictate to me. They usually liked me, though, because I was so jolly, and didn’t mind my bossing them.

After “playing” with her patient for a solid week, Jane administered the fatal dose on the Fourth of July, and Mattie died.

No one in Cataumet was particularly surprised by the news of Mattie’s passing. The eastern heat wave of 1901 claimed the lives of 9,500 men, women, and children that year. Mattie Davis, the townsfolk said, really hadn’t been well for quite some time.

Genevieve in no way suspected Nurse Toppan; in fact, she begged Jane to return to Cataumet with her. She couldn’t bear to take her mother’s body back alone.

Reluctantly, Jane agreed.

There were many friends of the family who had come down from Cambridge to attend the funeral. I thought to myself and I wanted to say to them: ‘You had better wait and in a little while I will have another funeral for you. If you wait it will save your going back and forth.’

“I went to the funeral and was as jolly as can be,” Jane gloated, “and nobody thought anything of it.”

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The Broken Life

It’s my pleasure today to welcome Jaye Marie to Entertaining Stories. She and her sister have a blog tour going on, and it’s their first one. Please make them feel welcome, and share this post across your social media.

***

Interview with David Snow/Broken Life

 

I have interviewed David Snow before, but usually in my office. This time I am visiting him in the hospital, where he is recovering from the horrendous injuries he sustained in The Broken Life, the third book in my mystery thriller series.

I’m not sure what condition I will find him in, but I believe he is almost ready to be discharged. As my job as editor I have to find out what his plans are for the future. Rumour has it that he will be retiring, but I might have other ideas about that. It would be a shame to lose him now, as he is one of my better characters.

I find him sitting in a chair by the window in his private hospital room, looking amazing and wearing casual clothes and not the pyjamas I was expecting. He looks up as I push open the door, the same boyish grin on his face as he recognises me. The attractive blonde sitting on the bed stands up as I approach.

“I’ll be back later on, David and we can finish making the arrangements…”

I watch as the door swings shut behind her and wonder what kind of arrangements Jane Bates, the duty solicitor for Guildford Police Station could be making with DI David Snow.

“Hello, David. You’re looking much better than I thought you would. They must be taking good care of you in here.”

“Hi Jaye, they have worked wonders, but it’s time I got out of here…”

“That sounds as though you have a plan of some sort. Care to let me in on it?” Was I mistaken, or did I see a flicker of uncertainty cross his face? He would have to talk to me, for I was going nowhere until I knew what he was up to.

“Well…” he paused, checking my face for clues as to the purpose of my visit. “I think I know why you’re here… but I don’t think I will be going back to work just yet… maybe never…”

My heart sank. This was the worst thing he could have said to me, but I had been expecting something of the sort. He must have been dreading telling me, and my face probably reflected my disappointment.

“I am sorry to have to say it… I hope you’re not too unhappy. I never thought I would leave the Force, it has been my life for so long, but I’m not getting any younger…”

“Is there a medical reason for this decision?” I was clutching at straws, and he probably knew it.

He laughed… and the nervousness on his face eased immediately. “No… I have been pronounced fit and good to go. I desperately need a break though, before I begin to think of what happens next. If you have come to put me back to work, I’m afraid you’ll have a bit of a wait.”

He stood up and walked to the window. I had forgotten how pleasant it was to watch him move. No lasting damage to his body that I could see either, he moved like he always did, like an athlete. The thought of never seeing him again was beginning to upset me, so I tried one more question. “You can’t fool me, David. You can’t just stop being a detective, and a good one at that.” Changing the subject, I asked, “Any news from Kate Devereau lately?”

He frowned, and I thought I had possibly touched a nerve.

“She sends postcards sometimes, seems her life really has changed for the better…”

I sensed a reluctance to talk about Kate, so stood up to leave. I knew I wouldn’t get the answers I hoped for today, but I had the feeling I wouldn’t be losing him after all. But before I left, I had one last question. “You will let me know what you decide, won’t you?”

He walked up to me and gently took my hands in his. This close to him I could smell the soap he used laced with his testosterone. My knees reacted instantly, a fluttery weakness that always occurred near my snowman. Kate thinks she invented that nickname for him, but it was me all along.

“I will be in touch, Jaye. Don’t you ever worry about that…”

***

My name is Jaye Marie, the ‘oily rag’ of the partnership http://jenanita01.com and usually, I prefer to stay in the background.

Since we decided to publish our books ourselves, most of my other interests have had to take a back seat, and as I am not half as clever as I want to be, they may well have to leave the country for a while. Well, some of them can but not all. I am an avid Bonsai fan and have a collection that demands my attention in the growing season, or they will die. (It is a bit like having children)

I love books and have read my way through stacks of them, so when my sister needed someone to edit and type up her manuscripts, I was happy to help. Somewhere along the way, I discovered my vocation and my love-hate relationship with the world of computers. But I did learn how to edit and proofread, taking over the job of getting Anita’s books ready for publication. I even had some wonderful compliments from one of the best literary agents in London for my editing of Anita’s first book, Bad Moon, and for the last twenty years since my retirement, that‘s what my life has been like.

Then everyone started talking about ‘Indie’ or self-publishing. I already knew how hard it was to be published in the traditional way, so became very excited at the prospect of being able to do it ourselves. I started our own website and found that I enjoyed talking to people from all over the world and posting our thoughts online. Then I concentrated on publishing Anita’s books. It wasn’t quite as easy as they made it sound, but with my usual stubbornness, I kept at it, learning more and more as I went along.

Somewhere along the way, I started thinking about a story that had been nibbling away in the corner of my mind for months, and before too long, it demanded to be written and then there were two writers in the family!

Links

Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/anitajaydawes

Amazon Author Page: Author.to/JayeLink

Website: http://jenanita01.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/jaydawes2/media
Facebook: http://facebook.com/anita.dawes.37
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8638857.Jaye_Marie
UK Amazon Link : https://www.amazon.co.uk/Broken-Life-Jaye-Marie/dp/1326866753
US Amazon Link https://www.amazon.com/Broken-Life-Jaye-Marie/dp/1326866753

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Cleaved by Sue Coletta

The Mystery Surrounding Antlers

Fans of the TV show Hannibal know the cannibal psychiatrist and gourmet chef—although his ingredients are quite questionable—often uses deer antlers to create macabre crime scenes. Some may think the creators of the show stole the idea from HBO’s True Detective, but that isn’t the case. The original idea stemmed from Stephen King. In his 1979 hit Salem’s Lot, King impaled one of the characters with antlers. They say it takes three repetitions to create a trend, and perhaps there’s some truth to that.


Antlers intrigued me enough to write them into my new novel, CLEAVED.


In preparation, I did extensive research into deer antlers. Specifically, white tail deer, the only breed that live in New Hampshire, where the story takes place. The reason antlers and murder elicit such a strong reaction might be because the deer symbolizes purity, rebirth, and regeneration. By showing the antlers of such a majestic creature next to the darkness of murder it strikes at our fears. Subconsciously we think, if the killer could use an innocent animal in this way, maybe none of us are safe.


It’s precisely this symbolism that sent me down a rabbit hole of research. Or was it a jackrabbit hole? LOL Sorry, couldn’t resist.


Finding a way to incorporate antlers into the MO so it made sense became a much harder task. Deer antlers weren’t enough, though. I needed more. So I included the King of Hearts playing card, women encased in oil drums, birch trees, and nursery rhymes. Sounds crazy, I know, but I promise it all makes sense in the end.


Many mysteries surround antlers.

Why do deer shed their antlers? Why do only males and hermaphrodite deer grow antlers? How do antlers grow faster than any other vertebrae bone on earth?

I share some of the mythology and symbolism in the book, so I won’t share it here. A few interesting facts I didn’t include are…

Hardened antlers (not in velvet) are made up of 45% protein, 22% calcium, 11% phosphorous, and 1% fat. They also contain magnesium, sodium, aluminum, potassium, copper, manganese, and zinc.

The chemical composition varies according to location and is affected by other factors, like soil and the amount of rainfall during the antler growth cycle.

Antlers respond to their environment. Genetics, age, and diet are the three key factors.

Even though only male deer and moose grow antlers, there are exceptions, like caribou, elk, and reindeer. Although, with the exception of reindeer, they’re then called “horns”.

Why do female reindeer grow antlers when their southern cousins do not?

Here’s a tidbit for speculative fans. The now-extinct Irish Elk, known as the Giant Deer Meglasaurus Gigantus, lived until 5,000 B.C. Analysis of its bone and teeth from scientists showed the huge herbivore stood 7’ tall with gigantic antlers that spanned 12’ across and weighed up to 80 lbs. Imagine running into him? Whoa.


No matter the amount of research, no one really knows whyantlers antlers exist.

Scientists have theories, but no concrete proof. Some theories are…

To acquire a mate. The bigger the antlers, the better the quality of male. (I’m not commenting on that, especially while on a man’s site)

They’re used as weapons to fight off other males, even though many times a gorgeous rack is enough to make the lesser male stand down.

Defense against predators.

What blows the first two theories are female reindeer. If antlers exist merely to attract potential mates, then why do any females grow them? Some scientists believe horned (caribou) or antlered (reindeer) females who live out in open use them for protection and so they don’t stand out from the male members of society.They also use them to clear snow.


With regard to moose, they say the antlers are used as large hearing aids. But then, why don’t females grow them? Are female moose deaf? Or do they just not care what male moose have to say?


As I mentioned earlier, environment plays a key role in antler growth. The photo period is the 24 hour period where the deer are exposed to sunlight. In the summer we have longer days. During which bugs produce higher levels of testosterone, which triggers antler growth. Antlers start out as cartilage in velvet,which is fuzzy and rich in blood vessels. If we were to pet thevelvet, the antlers would be hot to the touch.


When the bugs go through a second cycle of testosterone, it triggers mineralization and hardening of the antlers. In the fall when the sunlight diminishes, deer rub their antlers against trees, other plant life, and bugs. This removes the velvet to reveal bony antlers. They carry these hardened antlers through the fall and winter. In the spring, the bugs drop in testosterone level signals another change. Within days of this drop, the antlers release from their pedicles. In other words, the deer sheds its antlers. A scab-like material grows over these pedicles and the cycle repeats, with these new growth cells.


Cool, right?

 

Blurb:


Author Sage Quintano writes about crime. Her husband Niko investigates it. Together they make an unstoppable team. But no one counted on a twisted serial killer, who stalks their sleepy community, uproots their happy home, and splits the threads that bond their family unit.

Darkness swallows the Quintanos whole–ensnared by a ruthless killer out for blood. Why he focused on Sage remains a mystery, but he won't stop till she dies like the others.

Women impaled by deer antlers, bodies encased in oil drums, nursery rhymes, and the Suicide King. What connects these cryptic clues? For Sage and Niko, the truth may be more terrifying than they ever imagined.


Want to see how I used antlers in CLEAVED? Save $5.00 by pre-ordering now. Only 99c: http://smarturl.it/Cleaved


Bio:

Member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and International Thriller Writers, Sue Coletta is a multi-published, award-winning author. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies and collections, including a forensic article in InSinC Quarterly. In addition to her popular crime resource blog, Sue co-hosts the radio show “Partners In Crime” on Blog Talk Radio. She’s also the communications manager for the Serial Killer Project and Forensic Science and founder of #ACrimeChat on Twitter, where she helps other crime writers' stories ring true.

She lives with her husband in a quaint country town in rural New Hampshire where she's surrounded by moose, deer, black bears, and the sultry songs of nature. Course, Sue would love to snuggle with the wildlife, but her husband frowns on the idea.


Connect with Sue at the following locations:


Twitter/Facebook/Goodreads/Amazon

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The Life series, on Lisa Burton Radio

Welcome to another edition of Lisa Burton Radio; the show where we introduce the characters you love to read about. I'm your host, Lisa the robot girl, and my special guest today is Jack Holland, from The Ninth Life and The Last Life, by Jaye Marie.

Jack is an attractive, successful businessman who is desperate to find Kate, his missing ex wife. He welcomed the opportunity to be on the show. I know he is hoping one of you good listeners will know where she is.

“Welcome to the show, Jack.”

“Delighted to be here, Lisa. Impressive set up you have, very impressive. I understand you run the radio station on your own, no husband or partner? I find that really surprising for a girl with your obvious talents.”

“Yes, well, this is my show and I have all the help I need, believe me. Why don’t you tell us all about Kate? I understand it was the death of your son that caused her breakdown, resulting in her leaving you. I am so sorry for your loss, by the way.”

“We were so happy together in the beginning. It was like a fairytale. But when the child died, Kate wanted to stop living, becoming a different person to the perfect wife I married. It was as if she hated me. I still don’t understand what happened. I know she needs my help, and I am hoping that someone listening can help me find her.”

“Poor Kate. Do you have any idea where she might have gone? What did she do before you met her, any clues there?”

“Kate loved to paint. If she wasn’t actually painting, she would be in a gallery somewhere, studying it. A stupid hobby in my opinion, but she loved it.”

“Was there anyone else in the picture when she left? I understand there was an old flame somewhere in the past. A Michael Barratt. Would he know where she is?”

“How the hell do you know about him? No, I’m sure he had nothing to do with her leaving, but he is probably helping her now. Although how he managed to find her when I couldn’t, remains an annoying mystery to me. But I think I am getting closer to the pair of them, they can’t hide from me forever.”

“I wonder what Kate thought of your moods? Calm down, Jack. There's no need for any of that, not here with me. I only want to help.”

“Not much evidence of that so far, if you ask me. I don’t think you ever intended to help me, you’re just after a juicy story for your listeners. Are they listening right now? Kate, if you are out there, stop all this silly nonsense and come home. You know I won’t stop until I find you both.”

“And what will you do then, Jack? What are your plans?”

“I have such plans for Kate, and Mr. Perfect too. Everything will be wonderful again, once I have her back.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to come back, ever thought of that? Perhaps you should move on and leave them alone. Sure sounds like a great idea to me…”

“You know nothing about me or Kate, Lisa. I thought you wanted to help me, but I see I was wrong. For all I know you are involved in this conspiracy too, and helping to hide them from me. Maybe that’s why you contacted me in the first place. Are the police going to turn up in a minute? You really don’t want to mess with me. Many people have and all of them are dead now. Do you feel like joining them, hmmm?”

“That was entirely uncalled for, Jack, and I think you should get some help. In fact …”

“I don’t want to hear what you think. Maybe it is time to shut you up. I am quite good at shutting people up.”

“Listen, Buster. I'll kick your ass. I promise I'm a lot stronger than you are, and I come equipped with a class three battle chassis. No way you can hurt me. Now, I know a good psychiatrist, and she helped me learn to be human. Would you like me to give you her contact information?”

“Jack?”

“Jack stormed out into the forest. If he thinks a crazy psycho is the worst thing out there he's in for a big surprise. We have buffalo grass that eats whole buffaloes, the bog beast, sabertooth tigers, and more. Don't worry, I'll use my infrared vision to keep an eye on him.

“Help me keep the lights on around here by checking out The Ninth Life and The Last Life, by Jaye Marie. I'll include all the deets on the website. Think about hitting those share buttons too, you'll want folks to share when your character appears on my show.”

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You can find Jaye Marie at the following locations:

Website: http:jenanita01.wordpress.com

Twitter: http:twitter.com/jaydawes2/media

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/JayeMarie44

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8638857.Jaye_Marie

You can get a copy of the books here:

The Ninth Life: myBook.to/TheNinthLife

The Last Life: myBook.to/TheLastLife

 

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Wings of Mayhem, on Lisa Burton Radio

Welcome to another addition of Lisa Burton Radio, the show where I interview the characters from the stories you love. I’m your host, Lisa the robot girl.

In the studio with me today is Shawnee Daniels, a Computer Forensics Specialist at the Revere Police Department. “Welcome to the show, Shawnee.”

“Hey, Lisa. Whassup?”

“I think anything having to do with computers is awesome. What kind of evidence do you collect? Is it financial, private messages, or what?”

“Anything to do with cyber crimes…pictures for the metadata, bank records, all social media information, including private messages, phone numbers, IP addresses, pretty much anything that relates to the crime we’re investigating. We work a lot of fraud cases in my unit.”

“I think that’s fascinating, but our listeners might be more interested in your nightlife. Why don’t you tell us about your secret double life.”

“I can’t stand to see rich assholes ripping off innocent folks, so I use my skills as a cat burglar to recoup the funds. Minus my fee, of course. Wait. This isn’t live, right? Oh, man, if Lieutenant Holt finds out I broke into… So, you’re a robot, eh? How’s that work, exactly?”

“How does what work?”

“Y’know, the whole robot thing you got goin’ on there.”

“Let’s get back to your interview, shall we?”

“I plead the fifth, Your Honor.”

“Huh?”

“If we’re live, there’s no way in hell I’m talkin’. I should’ve never come. Damn you, Nay!”

“Did I say live? I meant—”

“Hang on. Why is that red light on?”

“Oh, that? That’s just…”

“I am two seconds away from hopping over this desk. If I were you, I’d choose my words carefully.”

“Okay, okay, we’re on the air. Relax.”

“Excuse me? I know you didn’t just tell me to relax. Unless, of course, you want that skanky dress up around your neck.”

<Squeerooooooooo. Clunk>

“Now you can just come right through it. Wouldn’t want you to snag that skin-tight black fetish-thing you’re wearing.”

“What the—? You just tore a metal table in half.”

“Yeah, turns out robot girls are pretty strong. Wanna continue the interview?”

“I’m in it now, blondie. You just better watch your tone. I’m not someone you wanna mess with. As it is, you’re wearing my last nerve thin. The only reason I agreed to this damn interview was for Nadine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Let’s just get through this. Next question?”

“Right. So, is this kind of like Robin Hood? Do you spread the goodies around, or fence it and keep the money?”

“Spread it around? Did your writer leave a few screws loose, or what? That’s a surefire way to get caught. Been there, done that, got the scars to prove it. I wouldn’t call myself Robin Hood, either. I mean, c’mon, that guy didn’t have half the skills I do.”

“To be honest, I’d have a hard time parting with nice jewelry myself. You must have some adventures to share with us.”

“You got me there. I am a sucker for a good watch. Never could pass one up.

“Adventures? Umm, yeah, if you call being stalked by a serial killer an “adventure.” Outrunning a pack of hungry Dobies was no picnic, either. I swear, it’s like all the dogs in Bear Clave Estates crave cat for their midnight snack.

“Anyway, Jack Delsin, this dude that’s chasing me now, is one sick pup, lemme tell ya. So, yeah, I might’ve broken into his place. “Might’ve” being the key word there. I’m not admitting to anything. For shits and giggles, let’s say I did.

“He’s got these weird charcoal drawings on his wall. Course, he also has garden gnomes, which might explain his taste in decorating skills. Garden gnomes, is there nothing uglier?”

“You’ve never seen real gnomes.”

“Excuse me? Anyway…the media calls him The Creator. No idea why. Anyone who skins his victims from the neck down, leaving only the face, and spreads open their ribcage to create wings is outta their frickin’ mind. Never mind the black feather that he sticks between two ribs, then poses them in public…at the bus stop, the courthouse, on top of the sign at the entrance to Union Hospital…no place is off-limits. Who does that shit?

“All right, so maybe it wasn’t my best idea to swipe the cool wooden puzzle box from his guest room. But how was I supposed to know it was his trophy box?”

“This sounds kind of like the Blood Eagle torture of the Vikings. Is that what he’s doing?”

“No clue what the Vikings did. Where’d you come up with that one? Nay has me talkin’ to robot girl over here. Fate’s a cruel bitch.”

“My writer gave me all kinds of cool research capability.”

“Good for you. I’m sure he’s so proud.”

“You sound a little…I don’t know…bitter.”

“Bitter? You wanna try that again, robot girl?”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d refer to me by my name.”

“Whatever you say, robot girl. I am gonna kill Nadine when I get home.”

“So, what’s the sitch now?”

“You talkin’ about Skype or the package Delsin left on my front stoop?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know why you’re prying into my personal shit, is that what you’re tellin’ me?”

“It’s just a radio show. Relax.”

“That’s it! Let’s go. Take your best shot.”

“I don’t want to fight you. I’m just trying to interview you.”

“Oh. Right. Can you repeat the question, please?”

“What’s happening now?”

“Y’mean, with Delsin?”

“Sure.”

“Nay doesn’t know this, but he keeps tryin’ to Skype with me. Wait. You said this isn’t live, right?”

“Umm, right.”

“Okay, cool. So, Delsin’s all over me, sending me packages, the Skype calls, the eerie symbols and shit he puts on my computer screen. How much can one person take?

“Scratch that. Preachin’ to the choir here. How could I forget? Nay has me talkin’ to a frickin’ robot.”

“Did you just roll your eyes?”

“What?”

“You rolled your eyes at me.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Do you have something against robots?”

“You’re serious.”

“Yes, very.”

“Look. Before you go all Glenn Close on my ass, you should probably take a breath.”

“Why, I never!”

“I’m sure you haven’t.”

“Ms. Daniels—”

“Ooh. She’s using my last name. I’m so scared.”

“Let’s just continue the interview. The quicker we get this done, the quicker we’ll never have to see each other again.”

“Works for me.”

“Where were we? Ah, yes, the Skype calls. What is Jack Delsin threatening to do?”

“You’re a little slow, aren’tcha? What do you think he’s threatening to do? He’s a serial killer! Honestly, why do I waste my breath? You and Nadine are perfect for each other. Need a best friend? You probably don’t swear either. Course, you can’t be as bad as her. She’ll mangle the English language rather than—perish the thought—utter a phrase that she can’t repeat in front of Sesame Street’s target audience. Lord, give me strength.”

“Let me check my notes. This is one of the strangest interviews I’ve ever conducted.”

“You wrote this shit down?”

“No. I have perfect recall.”

“Well, la-de-da. Aren’t we full of ourselves.”

“So why don’t you just give the box back?”

“Don’t you think I would if I could? I can’t find the damn thing. When I escaped Delsin’s house it must’ve fallen out of my backpack. Oh, man, if I don’t find it soon, God only knows what he’ll do next.”

“Then why not call the cops?”

“You’re kiddin’, right? What part of cat burglar don’t you understand? Sure, I work at the Revere Police Department, but if Lieutenant Holt ever finds out about my after-hour activities, I’ll be cuffed and stuffed in a heartbeat. Besides, Levaughn would— By the way, he’s picking me up after the show. I suggest you keep your paws to yourself, blondie.

“That was another one of Nadine’s schemes…a cat burglar dating a cop. Though, admittedly, he’s sweeter than cotton candy. Yummy with a capital Yum. Still, I don’t know why I let her talk me into these things. Nay keeps hoping he’ll convert me into an upstanding member of society. How many times do I have to tell her—? Aack. No use wasting brain cells on something I can’t control—aka Nadine Couture.”

“Nadine sounds like a pretty special kind of friend.”

“She’s a pain in the ass, but yeah, I’d kill for her. When Ms. Librarian, Martha Stewart Fan Club President—before the scandal, of course—Good Housekeeping’s Cover Model, gets on one of her tangents about lifestyle choices, I tune her out. I’ll tell ya, if anyone spoke to me the way she does, I’d knock their teeth down their throat. She’s cool, though, even if she did rat me out to Levaughn. Vault for my secrets, what a joke. Okay, so maybe I’m still a little pissed. Can you blame me? I specifically told her— Ah, what’s the use?”

“I don’t see an easy solution for this one. I wish you well, Shawnee.”

“Yeah, I gotta bounce, too. Later, robot girl. I mean, Lisa.”

“Our sponsor today has been Wings of Mayhem, by author Sue Coletta.”

***

Note from Craig, I read this book and absolutely loved it. I think you will too.

A SERIAL KILLER STALKS THE STREETS…

Shawnee Daniels – computer forensics specialist/hacker for RPD by day, cat burglar by night – always believed her “fearlessness rules” mantra would keep her on top and out of jail. When she hacks a confiscated hard drive at the Revere P.D., she focuses on a white-collar criminal accused of embezzlement. To teach him a lesson and recoup the funds she breaks into his massive contemporary in Bear Clave Estates. Jack has even more secrets, deadly secrets, secrets worth killing over.

A CAT BURGLAR PICKS THE WRONG HOUSE TO ROB…

Shawnee thinks she made it out clean until a deadly package arrives at her door soon after. He’s found her. As a glowing eagle taunts her Skype screen, Jack tells her she stole his precious trophy box — and he wants it back!

THEIR LIVES COLLIDE…

When her “helpful” best friend convinces her to date charismatic Detective Levaughn Samuels, her two worlds threaten to implode. Ordinarily Shawnee keeps a firm line between her professions, but dating Levaughn might help her get this psycho off her tail.

AND NOW, NO ONE IS SAFE…

In this lightning-fast-paced psychological thriller of secrets and lies, Shawnee juggles being stalked by a serial killer, dating the lead detective on the case, and tap dancing around her librarian best friend.If she doesn’t find the trophy box, the killer’s coming for her. If she doesn’t expose her secrets

Bio: Member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and International Thriller Writers, Sue Coletta is the author of Wings of Mayhem, MARRED, The Rendering, Crime Writer’s Research, and 60 Ways to Murder Your Characters. A multi-published author in numerous anthologies, her forensics articles have appeared in InSinC Quarterly; her flash fiction in OOTG Flash Fiction Offensive and in the highly-anticipated anthology, 100 Voices. In addition to her popular crime resource blog, Sue’s the communications manager for the Serial Killer Project and Forensic Science, and founder of #ACrimeChat on Twitter.

 

 

 

Purchase Links and Social Media:

Wings of Mayhem: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple iTunes, Google Play: http://smarturl.it/WingsofMayhem

Website: www.suecoletta.com — Get The Rendering, a dark flash fiction collection, free when you subscribe to the blog.

Twitter: @SueColetta1

Facebook: www.facebook.com/SueColetta1

 

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Crossing Bedlam

I’ve already downloaded my copy, and can’t wait to read this one, Craig.

The Rated-R Post-Apocalyptic Action Comedy Adventure is finally here!

Cover Art by Jon Hunsinger

Cover Art by Jon Hunsinger

The United States of America has been crippled. Violently contained by a global military force and left without its leaders, the country has become shattered and chaotic. A decade has passed since the first strike and a new landscape has emerged where survival is more important than anything else. Who will uncover the truth behind the attack and revive this once great nation?

It certainly won’t be Cassidy and Lloyd since they couldn’t care less about that stuff. She is a young woman on a mission to honor her mother’s dying wish, which is to toss her ashes off the Golden Gate Bridge. He is an infamous serial killer she broke out of Rikers Island since hiring a bodyguard wasn’t working out. Not the perfect plan, but having an insane, oddly charming murder-junkie on your side is a plus in the Shattered States.

Bullets and swear words are going to fly as Cassidy and Lloyd travel coast to coast, facing one challenge after another . . . including Nebraska.

Curious about this broken world & these two ‘not even close to being heroes’?

Then grab a copy for $2.99 on Amazon
&
Mark it as ‘To Read’ on Goodreads

Excerpt: A Relaxing Drive on the Parkway (Foul Language Warning)

The jeep hurtles through a large hole in the parkway divider, the threat of incoming traffic nothing more than a faded memory. Only three of their pursuers manage to follow with a fourth smashing into the gap and blocking the path. Not wanting to be an easy target, Cassidy keeps their vehicle swerving from one lane to another. She can hear bullets pinging off the asphalt and the abandoned cars that have been moved to the side of the road. There is another hole in the divider right before an overpass, so she drives through at the last second. Sliding into the tunnel, Cassidy watches the other vehicles pass the gap before making a tire-screeching U-turn to go in the opposite direction. Five motorcycles are heading toward them, but the heavy jeep and its driver’s refusal to get out of the way makes them an easily scattered threat. One of the bikers is unable to swerve to the side and he crashes onto the hood while his ride is sent spinning into an abandoned van.

“Get off my car!” Cassidy shouts as she reaches out the window. Grabbing the man by the ankle, she yanks him off the hood and lets him tumble into the concrete divider. “This is really going to cost me. Do you know what the penalty for your idiocy is? They kill you unless you escape to the mainland. Then you’re exiled until you find something that the Trade Barons want more than revenge. I don’t have time to go on a treasure hunt. Would you take off those sunglasses and stop humming car chase music?”

“I was only trying to complete the scene,” Lloyd argues as he calmly fires a pellet at a sedan driver. Having mixed the three types of ammo, he is happy to see a yellow orb burst on the woman’s mouth. “There’s the scratching. Now the nausea. We have a spinning and flipping car, folks. Oh, and there goes either the guy in the passenger seat or a really big ragdoll. You know, I’m starting to like what all of you have done with the place.”

“Stop killing people!” the blonde shouts, veering away from a large truck. She narrowly avoids slamming into a small car, the jeep moving off the road to complete the turn. “The more bodies we leave, the harder it will be to regain the Trade Barons’ favor. At least Neddy will send us what we need and . . . this is not the fucking time to change clothes!”

Lloyd stops with his head peeking out of his blood-covered shirt, which is high enough to reveal his scarred stomach. Figuring that he has come too far to stop, he yanks off the garment and hurls it out the window. He pouts when it flies over a car instead of covering the driver’s side of the windshield and causing a crash. Blindly reaching back, he takes a random shirt out of his bags and examines the black top in the side view mirror. The red and black mask of an old comic book character stares back at him, the face giving the illusion of grinning beneath the fabric.

“I remember reading this guy’s series before the Internet made him so popular and he turned up everywhere. Ugh, that sounded so pretentious that I’m tempted to stab myself. Hey, can we still see movies because I want to see his?” Lloyd asks while tying the laces of the black sneakers he hastily put on before making a mess at the Coliseum. “I really like t-shirts with pictures on them. They bring attention to what I’m wearing instead of my face. You can start a conversation about them too. Nice way to meet people and find out if they’re worth leaving alive or not. For example, I have a shirt with another hero and if somebody tells me that the bastard can defeat every other character then I know they have to die. I mean, he’s nothing more than a child-endangering bill-”

“Shut the fuck up, Lloyd!”

“Don’t be angry, kid. You’re doing great.”

“I can’t even figure out if we’re going in the right direction.”

“Turn around and start shooting at their tires.”

“I can’t because I need to save bullets.”

“For what?”

“Nebraska!”

Charles E YallowitzAbout the Author:

Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you, and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.

Twitter: @cyallowitz
Facebook: Charles Yallowitz
Website: www.charleseyallowitz.com

Want the same level of action with a lot of magic & no cursing?

Cover Art by Jason Pedersen 3D Conversion by Bestt_graphics

Cover Art by Jason Pedersen
3D Conversion by Bestt_graphics

Click here for the $4.99 Bundle to start your journey into Windemere!

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