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Smashwords
Amazon
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: Smashwords
Type: Fiction
Pages: 344
Copyright: 2009-2017
ISBN-13: 9781452305370
Price: $4.99 (eBook)
Book 5 in the Detective Marcella Witch's series
Book 5 in the Detective Marcella Witch's series finds our detectives investigating the murder of an ex-con paroled from prison eighteen years after pulling off a daring armored car heist and absconding with six million dollars in cash. Now for the unlikely group of suspects in his murder, the question is not who killed Rene Landau; the question is what did he do with the money?
Excerpt
As I sit reflecting upon a recent case of mine, I take comfort realizing I have finally come to terms with what I am, an enigma personified, a fitting title I should think, and a distinction intrinsically qualified for defining who I am. That is no small revelation for a man who has walked this earth for sixty-odd years, the last of which, especially, proposed challenges of some magnitude.
For the vast majority of my adult life, I considered detective work my reason for being. But after Lilith involved me in her rite of passage ceremony, returning me to my physical prime and endowing me with powers of witchcraft, I have struggled with my new identity and harbored an overwhelming sense that obligatory reparations of existential proportions are due Lilith in the worst way. Worse still, I feel that Lilith expects nothing less.
With that, I can now say, though I shall forever remain in Lilith’s debt for breathing a second life into my tired old bones, that witchcraft will always take a back seat to my paramount calling as Detective, grade one, N.C.P.D. 2nd precinct, New Castle, Massachusetts.
The recent case in point, itself not overly sensational, but pivotally significant, started on the heels of an argument I had with Lilith. Although it centered on our sleeping arrangements at the apartment since Ursula arrived, I see now that other mounting frustrations may have contributed to its ferocity, the details of which I shall spare, as the account I aspire to communicate requires no such condition for sufficient conveyance. I suppose it does bear mentioning, however, that Ursula is a witch, too, but with a very different past, or more precisely, a very distant past.
Lilith, in her ever-astounding repertoire of spells, recently managed to resurrect Ursula from a pile of seventeenth-century bones. Because Ursula is Lilith’s Great Aunt (though the two appear to be about the same age) and a woman truly out of her element, she has moved in with us, and the two have made it their mission in life to make my life miserable. Never in all my years have I felt so much the outsider in my own home, as when they conspire behind my back, cackling like hens, giggling like schoolgirls (at my expense, I’m certain) and upsetting the balance of nature by trashing the only bathroom in the apartment. Every morning I find bras and panties strewn over the back of the toilet and across the shower rod, makeup bottles and powder compacts litter the vanity top. And don’t get me started on the lumpy couch I’ve had to sleep on since Lilith insisted Ursula take my bed, after all, such a digression might hijack this narrative completely.
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