Bad Luck Officer Suziy Ivy Hits the Streets #NonFiction #MysterySuspense

Bad Luck Officer

by Suzie Ivy (known as Princess Cop to her grandchildren)

Against all odds, at age forty-five, Suzie Ivy graduated from the police academy. Now, her life as the first female officer in Small Town, Arizona begins. From pink handcuffs to a shotgun named The Rock (Rock Hudson), life in Small Town will never be the same. Bad Luck Officer takes you for a joy ride as Suzie works her first two “cop” years on the streets. Bulls, bad guys and humor will get her through the career of her dreams and prove, dreams really do come true.

This is the true-life adventure of a woman faced with a midlife crisis and empty nest syndrome. There are no tears in baseball but there are hidden tears in law enforcement when Suzie Ivy is on the case. Her expandable baton is bigger than your bat.

New England mystery on Kindle: Yankee Swat #MysterySuspense

Yankee Swat

By Myrica Blue

I had noticed that he was carrying a long object wrapped in paper, but I’d figured it was a golf club. “That’s the Boston Post cane?”

“Yep.” He tore the paper off and handed it across my desk. It was made of smooth, polished dark wood – ebony wood from the Congo, according to Pudge Loring’s letter – topped with a shiny gold head. The head was surprisingly heavy and engraved. I ran a finger over it.

“This is just gold plate, right?”

Coot shrugged. “I don’t really know.”

“What’s it worth?”

“I don’t know that either,” he said, suddenly thoughtful. “In fact, I don’t even know if the town ever insured it. Like I said, I wasn’t on the board the last time they gave it out and I never really thought about it.”

“Did your uncle carry it around with him?”

Coot shook his head. “I had forgotten he even had it, until the paper brought it up. It wasn’t in the car when he crashed, if that’s what you’re wondering. My wife found it at his house.”

From "Reel Life Crime" by Cary Pepper

The damn fool kid. Was the car worth it? Did he really think his father was going to press charges? Or was he just trying to stick it to the old man, the way, he was so sure, the old man had been sticking it to him the entire 17 years of his angry young life. Maybe he was just being 17.

He’d taken the old man’s Lamborghini. The 1972 Miura with the collector’s plates and the drop-dead price tag.

“It’s a P400 Miura SV,” Lathrop told Sampas, and waited for a reaction. When he got none, he continued. “Only 142 were made. Or 147, depending on who you talk to. Only 21 were approved for import into the United States.”

Sampas had never been wowed by cars, but clearly he was supposed to say something. “Sounds like a very nice car,” he mustered.

“Ferruccio Lamborghini called it his ideal sports car,” Lathrop explained, his voice a nuanced blend of pride and condescension. “It’s also been called the most beautiful sports car ever built. Frank Sinatra, Rod Stewart, the Shah of Iran, and the king of Saudi Arabia have all owned one. Yes, I’d say it’s a very nice car.”

From "Into the Dark Desolate Night" by John Darling

A beautiful woman just walked into the Anderson Detective Agency looking for help:

Anderson took the paper and unfolded it.  It was a copy of a news article whose headline read, “Professor Albert Margolis Killed in Single Car Accident”.  The story explained how Margolis, apparently on his way to his laboratory after a late night party, had spun out his Porsche on a rain swept road and managed to wrap it, and him, around a tree.  Both were pronounced dead at the scene.  The Coroner stated that no alcohol was present in Margolis’ blood so that was not a factor.  It was a simple accident.  Anderson handed the paper to Coombs who read it over carefully and then handed it back.

 “I take it you have reason to believe that this was something more than just an accident?”

“I do.”

“And what reason might that be?”

She hesitated at answering, looking at Anderson as if she were trying to decide if he was trustworthy.

“You have to give me more than this if you want me and Detective Coombs to sniff around for you.”

“All I can say, at this time, is that he was involved in some unusual research and that I suspect there were people who would rather he not succeed.” 

From "A Clear and Feathered Danger" by Noah Murphy

After a day spent covering death, destruction and politics, chilling with a group of drunk, dancing avians was a nice change of pace.

Leyla sat on Abernathy’s entertainment room sofa watching an avian tap his foot while clicking his beak to the beat of the blaring dance music. Another was twisting her head and torso, a third was just bouncing her head and up down. A fourth was just flapping her wings in place. Off in a corner, a bonded pair was doing something best described as the avian version of making out, holding each other’s beaks and vibrating rapidly. Leyla’s camera pod was on the floor capturing the whole scene.

Behind them at the bar, an avian was squawking angrily because they had completely cleaned out the liquor cabinet. But before the fun had a chance to stop, an avian flew up with a box of beer. Four avians tore the box open and grabbed the beer. Holding the bottles, they twisted off the caps with their beaks and flung the caps with their tongues. They turned their beaks skywards and let gravity do the work.

From "Dead Game" by Jennifer Chase

Emily reported to Jordan.  “I don’t have enough ammo to keep them off of us for very long.”

Jordan shimmied toward the window and looked out.  He quickly ducked back down next to Emily as she fired another shot.  A spray of bullets then pummeled back at them.  Glass frames of inspirational quotes from artwork flew off the walls, pieces of furniture cracked and chipped leaving fragments flying into the air, and finally the large window that Jordan peeked out from shattered into a million pieces.  It was deafening.

Emily yelled, “Jordan, any ideas?”  She knew that it was probably over for her.  A flood of images filtered through her mind of her life with Rick, and everything that led up to this standoff.

Jordan had a thought, his face lit up.  “I have an idea.”

Emily fired another round.  “Now would be a great time to tell me.”

Jordan pointed to the window.  “There.”

Emily didn’t understand.  She eased her way to the window and looked out.  The wind blew through the room.  She realized what Jordan thought they should do.  “No way.”