Things are rarely the way we assume they are. All Heather's solid beliefs about who killed her husband are wrong, as she tragically discovers.
I cut the headlights and peered up through the car windshield. Gray clouds rushed east to Michigan after leaving half an inch of rain on Chicago streets. Tree limbs stretched toward the night sky like black skeletal fingers.
Time to get moving.
With my Bears stadium blanket pulled tightly around my shoulders, I exited the car and waited for my eyes to adjust and then trekked across rain-soaked grass toward the water and my destination.
Just above the spot where the beach slides away from the shoreline, between scrubby hawthorn and an old oak, a weathered gray park bench perches above the sand. In the center of the top rail a brass plate reads ‘In memory of Bernard Melton.”
I sat down, crossing my legs underneath me, and arranged the blanket so it covered my feet. Leaning back against the plaque, I filled my lungs. Even a good rain could not entirely wash the smell of dead fish from the air.
“Hi, Bernie.” I patted the wrought iron armrest. “I couldn’t bring Stan with me this time. But you already know that, don’t you? Maybe by now the two of you have met? I hope so. Having your name on a bench in this exact spot…Stan always felt you must have appreciated this place as much as he did.”
My body trembled. I pulled the blanket closer even though it wasn’t the Canadian cold front that made me shiver.
“I don’t get much sleep these days, Bernie. I still reach out for him at night. Will that ever go away?”
All Carson Reno Mystery Series Books are standalone novels. It is not necessary to read them in any particular order.
A famous author is murdered, Carson is at the scene of the crime and considered a prime suspect – but he doesn’t remember anythi
Revenge is Fun series. Cameron and Kate unravel twists and turns in this clever crime caper. Kim and Kate pay a visit to Cameron in Los Angeles, but never dream they will go undercover to help crack an ingenious drug money laundering scheme.
I cut the headlights and peered up through the car windshield. Gray clouds rushed east to Michigan after leaving half an inch of rain on Chicago streets. Tree limbs stretched toward the night sky like black skeletal fingers.
