FEATURED AUTHOR: LIDA SIDERIS

ABOUT THE BOOK

Watch out Southern California! There’s a new entertainment attorney in town and she’s got game. Only problem is, it’s not the one she should be playing. Corrie Locke belongs behind a desk, not behind a Glock. She should be taking VIP calls, not nosing around a questionable suicide. Instead, she’s hot on the trail of a murderer.

Luckily, she’s the daughter of a late, great private eye and she’s inherited his love of sleuthing . . . and illegal weaponry. It doesn’t help matters that her gene for caution is a recessive one. Corrie finds herself in the center of a murder case, unearthing suspects in shocking places. With a cold-blooded killer on the loose, Corrie will have to up her game, or die trying.

INTERVIEW WITH LIDA SIDERIS

Lida, what's your favorite thing about the writing process?
It’s immensely gratifying to come upon the right word, sentence, the perfect passage or chapter or character that clicks so well, a writer can’t keep up with all the character says and does.

Do you write every day?
I’d like to say yes, but regrettably I don’t. Sometimes, with the day job, I can’t. But even when not writing, I’m constantly thinking about what to write next, about my characters, and possible predicaments.

What do you think is the hardest aspect of writing a book?
The first chapter. Yikes! I rewrite and revise that one the most times.

What’s more important – characters or plot?
For me, it’s the characters because if I don’t know them, I won’t know their choices/preferences/actions/reactions and consequently, the paths they may choose to take. My characters drive the story.

How often do you read?
Daily, whether it’s an article, a book (fiction or non-fiction), a poem, or anything that contains at least a few sentences. To go too long without reading, I feel myself sagging, growing listless.

Is writing your dream job?

Yes! It’s been my dream job for such a long time. Surrounded by words, and in fiction writing, I like being surrounded by imaginary characters, situations that are anything but straight out of real life, and the ability to display action and adventure in a safe, fun way.

Do you have any marketing tips you could pass on to indie authors?
Start your marketing earlier than you think you should start. And don’t underestimate the power of personal contact. When you think you’re done marketing, do some more!

What’s one thing you never leave the house without?
My glasses. I’m very near-sighted and have been since I was thirteen. I need glasses to drive and see beyond, say, a distance of two feet. Although I’m vain and don’t like to wear glasses, the thought of lasers, shiny tools and suction rings conjures up visions of being strapped to a table and writhing under a blinding light. Hence, my myopic vision continues. I alternate between glasses, contacts, and nothing corrective, which means viewing the world through a lens that appears to be coated with Vaseline. That’s good for the people around me because any physical flaws are nonexistent.

What do you love about where you live?
Quiet, solitude, my animals, fresh air – I live in the countryside, by the way.

What is one of your happiest moments?
One of my happiest occurred recently when I was interviewed about my book by Mr. Media (a Skype podcast) because I got to talk about what I love to do (writing, that is) for a full 24 minutes!

What do you like to do when there’s nothing to do?
Read, of course, polish my nails, and hang with my family, which includes my dogs and chickens.

What would you name your autobiography?
She Did It.

Do you give your characters any of your bad traits?
My heroine has my sweet tooth. Is that bad?

Absolutely not! Do you procrastinate?
Can I get you an answer later?

Of course. What’s one of your favorite quotes?
“I think the mirror should be tilted slightly upward when it's reflecting life – toward the cheerful, the tender, the compassionate, the brave, the funny, the encouraging, all those things.” Greer Garson

I’m a big fan of old Hollywood films (by old, I mean the thirties and forties) and Miss Garson is one of my favorite film stars.

What would your main character say about you?
Get your own life!


Where is your favorite library, and what do you love about it?

I love the grand Boston Public Library, especially the Abbey Mural Room on the second floor that depicts Sir Galahad’s quest for the Holy Grail. The paintings are bold and brilliant, but it’s the story that speaks to me. Sir Galahad’s persistence in the face of frustration and danger. It takes only one question to unlock a spell that’s fallen on a king who knows the answer to where the Holy Grail lies. Sir Galahad has to ask the right question, the question on which everything depends. The question is not provided in the artwork; viewers and visitors must find the question out for themselves. So it’s somewhat of a mystery.

I've been to the Boston Public Library, and you're right, it's fantastic. What is your favorite movie?

Pride and Prejudice – the 1940 version with Greer Garson and Laurence Olivier.


If you had a talk show who would your dream guest be?
Janet Evanovich, so I could ask all about one of my favorite series – the Stephanie Plum books. Ms. Evanovich weaves the humor in so nicely, makes the characters so lively, and yet makes the book such a simple, entertaining read. I’d like to know her secret!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Like her heroine, Corrie Locke, Lida Sideris worked as an entertainment attorney for a film studio. Unlike her heroine, she did not get blackmailed into investigating the suspicious death of a co-worker. Lida resides in the northern tip of Southern California with her family, their rescue shepherds, and a flock of uppity chickens. She was one of two national recipients of the Helen McCloy/Mystery Writers of America scholarship for mystery writing.

Connect with Lida:
Website  |  Blog  |  
Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Goodreads   


Buy the book:
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Featured Author: Janis Thornton

About the book:

When it comes to murder, forget the butler . . . it’s the housekeeper who knows where the bodies are buried.

Small-town newspaper editor Crystal Cropper never takes “no” for an answer, hates to be called a “senior citizen,” and uses the power of her pen to expose corruption in her small town.

Cleaning lady Gertie has a knack for sweeping skeletons out of closets—which makes her one of Crystal’s best informants. But Gertie’s latest hot tip has landed her in a coma, courtesy of an unknown assailant.

Now Crystal must follow the trail of dirt and gossip right to the doorsteps of several prominent local families to solve a decade-old murder and the disappearance of a young boy . . .

Interview with Janis Thornton

Janis, how long have you been writing, and how did you start?
Growing up, I was an only child and tended to make up little stories to entertain myself. I wrote poetry, too, and when I was 12 and 13, a national anthology of poetry by junior high students included my poems two years in a row. After that great start, it was 40 years before my next publishing credit. But...I’ve come a long way since my “Easter bonnets straight and tall, some are round and some are small” poem appeared in that anthology.

How did you come up with the title of your book?
Dust Bunnies and Dead Bodies was the stroke of genius of the editorial team at PageSpring Publishing. They felt this title represented the fun that readers could expect. My original title, Elmwood Confidential, is now the name for the series, which Dust Bunnies and Dead Bodies is starting.

Do you have another job outside of writing?
Yes, besides writing, I am a freelance personal historian and a part-time “doer of whatever needs doing” for a couple of great guys who are producing a new graphic novel series. Mainly, I do their graphic design projects, marketing, P.R., and run their graphic novel art museum.

How would you describe your book in five words?
Golden Girls meet Jessica Fletcher.

How did you create the plot for Dust Bunnies and Dead Bodies?

When I first began this project, all I had were the Crystal, Gertie, and Verlin characters, the small-town setting, and a vague inkling of a story about a 20-year-old unsolved murder. I wish I could say I sat down one evening and plotted the whole thing out, but that’s not how it worked. It actually was a long process of “write, delete, cry, repeat” before a doable storyline started to float to the top. During that time, reports about high school and college football coaches’ abuse of power were headlining the national news, and I decided to use that for the crux of the mystery. Once I had that element in place, the rest of the story came together organically.

What’s your favorite line from a book?
There is a lovely, short paragraph near the end of one of my most treasured books, Elizabeth Berg’s Talk Before Sleep, that always touches me. Here, the main character, Ann, tells the reader how she imagines the recent passing of her dearest friend, Ruth, who was a victim of breast cancer.

“I like to think that she looked out the window one last time the night she died and saw with a new understanding the placement of the stars. I like to think something incomprehensibly vast and complex moved into her soul at that moment, and that it, not pathology, was what took her breath away.”

That is wonderful! Tell us a book you’re an evangelist for.
As preparation for an interview I conducted this summer with author William Kent Krueger, I read his current best-selling book, Ordinary Grace, which had won numerous awards over the past few months. Before I reached the end of the prologue, the voice of the narrator, a 12-year-old boy, had hooked me, and I ate the book up. It’s a beautifully written story that seamlessly weaves together mystery, adventure, family, love, joy, loss, grief, and spirituality. In my opinion, it’s a magnificent book, and I can’t stop recommending it.  

What would your main character say about you?
Crystal Cropper would obviously say she owes everything she is and ever hopes to become to me. She might also say she wishes I would learn to cook so she could prepare herself a nutritious dinner that has nothing to do with nuking a frozen mystery casserole.

Are you like any of your characters?
I suspect Crystal and I are twins separated at birth (assuming it’s possible to be a fictional character’s twin) because we have so much in common. For example, she’s a blonde, Boomer-aged newspaper editor, and I’m a blonde, Baby Boomer-aged former newspaper editor; we like living alone, we hate to cook, we make jokes at inappropriate times, and we go crazy when someone refers to us as “seniors.” Where we differ is in the way we handle ourselves in the face of danger. I skulk away, while Crystal steels her nerve and jumps right in. I had great fun writing as Crystal and living vicariously through her. At times, she exemplified some facet of my actual life experience; other times she portrayed attitudes, actions, knowledge, courage, and skills that I’m too shy to exhibit.

Tell us about your favorite scene in the book.
Because I infused my main character, Crystal, with an unfiltered penchant for wisecracking, sarcasm and self-deprecation, my favorite scene shines a light on her vulnerable side, which she rarely reveals. The setting is Gertie’s hospital room, where Gertie lies in a coma after an intruder knocked her unconscious. Crystal pays a visit and, feeling uncomfortable in the presence of a comatose Gertie and not knowing what to do, she starts a one-sided conversation. To me, it’s bittersweet because I drew from my own experience with my dad, who was hospitalized several times before he passed away, and I tried to have Crystal project some of the emotions I felt.

You get to decide who would read your audiobook. Who would you choose?
Without hesitation, I would choose Meryl Streep. If the sky’s the limit, why not pick the brightest star?

I agree. Your last meal would be...
A Chinese chicken salad from Chin-Chin’s of Studio City, California (it’s to die for!) … and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Jamaican Me Crazy sorbet.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
I am a huge movie fan and usually go a couple times a month. I also love theater, roaming through museums, hanging out with my son, Matt, Goodwill shopping, and taking road trips.

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
I’ve not yet discovered my dream home, but I would like to try Booth Bay Harbor, Maine; Estes Park, Colorado; and Florence, Italy, for an extended stay to see if any of them feels like a good fit.

What are you working on now?

Writing-wise, I am in the early stages of plotting and writing Book 2 of my Elmwood Confidential series, I’m a third of the way through a local history book, and I’m polishing a completed a paranormal romantic-mystery. My non-writing work includes piecing together my family history, designing the first trade paperback for a graphic novel series, helping the Midwest Writers Workshop Committee plan the 2015 conference, and cleaning out the attic.

Excerpt from Dust Bunnies and Dead Bodies

Chapter 1

Funny where your mind goes when you’re staring into the face of mortal danger. The night I stepped through Gertie Tyroo’s dark back door, uninvited and all alone, my mind conjured up an old movie, starring me as the classic damsel in distress—fragile, frazzled, and befuddled, desperate for a white knight to gallop in on horseback and rescue me.

Crystal Cropper, I thought, revolted by the helpless self-image, you are pathetic! You don’t need a white knight. You’re your own white knight. Now get on with it. And get on with it I did. Without further hesitation, I drew a deep breath and called out, “Gertie! It’s me, Crystal. You okay?” That’s when the living room light went out, somebody screamed, and all hell broke loose.

Rapid-fire footsteps scurried toward me through the opaque darkness, prompting my Ladies Kick Ass training to kick in. I stiffened in a defensive stance—feet fixed at forty-five degree angles, knees bent, one hand clamped around my can of mace, the other poised to strike a crippling blow. I thought I was ready to rock ’n’ roll, but I was quickly proved wrong when a solid shoulder slammed into my chest. It bulldozed me toward the open doorway and knocked the mace from my grip. I screamed “Noooo!” and swung my right fist, hoping it would connect with the assailant’s face. Yes! My knuckles delivered a solid blow, and my attacker mewled weakly. Invigorated, I pressed on, determined to further stun my assailant with a head butt to the chin. Unfortunately, the plan was stopped when two strong hands grabbed my upper arms and shoved me with a force that dislodged my hairpins. As my topknot unfurled, the thug grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me out the door. Before I could rebound, I found myself tumbling down the back steps and onto the patio, where I landed hard on my left butt cheek, winded and dazed.

The intruder took my temporary incapacitation as an exit cue and bolted through the carport. My fears for Gertie pushed me up the steps and into the dark house. I groped the walls for a light switch, found one in the kitchen and flipped it on. An overhead fluorescent halo flickered to life, spilling light through the doorway to the front room. “Gertie!” I called again. “Where are you?” Still no answer.

Thinking I might catch a glimpse of the fleeing intruder, I rushed for the front door. But as I rounded Gertie’s sofa, I stubbed my foot on something large and doughy in my path. I nearly tripped and was set to give what-for to the poorly placed object, expecting maybe a hassock. But. Oh. My. God. It was Gertie.

The squeal of spinning tires resonated from the street, followed by the grinding roar of a souped-up engine. I scrambled for the front door, but my attempt to throw it open was stymied by the deadbolt. The louder the rumbling, the more my tangled fingers floundered over the stubborn lock. Finally disengaging the bolt, I threw open the door and dashed onto the sun porch as a light-colored pickup truck rocketed past. Although I hadn’t been able to read the license plate, I took note of the truck’s taillights—the left one was red, the right one orange.

With precious time wasting, I rushed back to Gertie. She was sprawled on her left side, wrapped tightly in her leopard-print coat. Her left arm extended unbent in alignment with her body and her hand rested on her tattered wool scarf. Her right arm jutted out before her at a ninety-degree angle gripping the strap of her straw handbag.

I grabbed a pillow and tucked it under her head. That’s when I discovered the blood soaking into the carpet. Its source was a deep wound on the back of her skull. I unbuttoned her coat and gently probed for her carotid artery with my fingertips. She had a pulse. It was weak, but it was there.

A table lamp lay on the floor within arm’s length. I set it upright and clicked it on. The room was chaos. The phone was off the hook and bleeping incessantly. I picked it up, tapped its plunger to get a dial tone, and punched 9–1–1.

About Janis:

Janis Thornton is a freelance writer, personal historian, and award-winning journalist. She is the author of two local history books, Images of America: Tipton County and Images of America: Frankfort. She is a member of Sisters in Crime, the Indiana Writers Center, Association of Personal Historians, and the Midwest Writers Workshop Planning Committee. She lives in a small Indiana town not unlike Elmwood. Dust Bunnies and Dead Bodies is her debut cozy mystery.

Connect with Janis:
Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter

Buy the book:
Amazon | Kobo

 

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Featured Author: Beate Boeker

Cozy Mystery Book Tours brings Beate Boeker here on her tour for 
Delayed Death, the first in the Temptation in Florence series. Banker's Death, the third book in the series, was just published in April.

About the book:


What do you do when you find your grandfather dead half an hour before your cousin's wedding? You hide him in his bed and tell everyone he didn't feel like coming.



Delayed Death is an entertaining mystery set in Florence, Italy. When Carlina finds her grandfather dead on the day of her cousin's wedding, she decides to hide the corpse until after the ceremony. However, her grandfather was poisoned, and she becomes the attractive Inspector's prime suspect. On top of that, she has to manage her boisterous family and her luxurious lingerie store called Temptation, a juggling act that creates many hilarious situations.



Delayed Death is the first mystery in the series Temptation in Florence. The second, Charmer's Death, and the third, Banker's Death, are also available.

Interview with Beate:

How did you come up with the title of your book?

As my heroine hides her grandfather to save her cousin's wedding, the title Delayed Death came naturally. In the beginning, it was only titled Florence. My novels usually start out with the name of the place or a certain atmosphere and only get their titles much later. Once, I worked on a novel called “snow.” It was later renamed A Little Bit of Passion, but for a long time, it was just “snow” to me.

Do you have a "day job?"

Yes, I work as a global marketing manager for a company that manufactures high-end fountain pens.

How would you describe your book in a tweet? (140 characters or less.)

Cozy mystery w/ mischief & humor in Florence. Taciturn Commissario, high-end lingerie store & crazy Italian family. http://t.co/FAoclak73S

Did you have any say in your cover art? What do you think of it?

Luckily, as I'm an indie author, I was able to choose the cover myself. I love those shutters, particularly if they're all in a row.

They do look great. When you start a new book, do you know what the entire cast will be?

Oh, no. I know the heroine somewhat, and the hero, but the rest only develop throughout the novel. Sometimes, new people just walk in, and I have to shift my plot to accommodate them.

How do you name your characters?

I look up Italian girl and boy names in the Internet, making sure they don't sound too similar, don't look too similar and don't start with the same letter to avoid confusing my readers. Once, I name a hero Lester and was told that that's an impossible name. I renamed him Marc to avoid problems. :-)

Tell us about your favorite scene in the book.

I'll enclose the excerpt with my favorite scene. It's the first time when the investigating officer, Garini, and my heroine, Carlina talk without being interrupted.

Who are your favorite authors?

Agatha Christie, Georgette Heyer, Mary Steward, Sarah Caudwell, Elizabeth Peters . . . the list is quite long!

Where’s home for you?

As I lived abroad when I was a child, I don't have deep roots and am happy pretty much anywhere where women have the same rights as men. I need my immediate family around me, though, otherwise, I get homesick for them. I'm German and live in Germany, but I chose to write in English because I found more support for a beginning writer in the US. Now, I'm slowly starting to translate my short stories and novels into German, too.

Name one thing you couldn’t live without.


My family.

Your last meal would be...

grilled fillet of fish, salad, hot chocolate cake.

You’re given the day off, and you can do anything but write. What would you do?


Go for brunch with my friends, take an afternoon nap, take a walk during sunset, read.

What’s one of your favorite quotes?

"If you want it, you can do it." I'm not sure who said that, but I think it's a great motto!

Yes it is. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Somewhere in the South, in a university city by the ocean. It would have to be in the South to have it warm, in a university city to avoid being a dead place in off-season, and by the ocean because I love to look out to the sea. I would have a small house with a great view, and there would be bicycle roads everywhere through town. Does such a place exist? If yes, do tell me, so I can make long-term plans to move there!

Oh yeah, there are a lot of little towns like that. What about traveling? If you could take a trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

I would go on a round trip all over the world to visit all my friends, even those I have only met via the Internet so far, and I would stay some weeks at every place to avoid being stressed.

What are you working on now?

I'm currently plotting the 4th novel in the series Temptation in Florence. It's a lot of fun, and I didn't expect that after having written three novels with the same cast of people. But they grew on me, and I would miss them if I didn't have them around anymore.

I can't wait to hear more about it!

Excerpt from 

Delayed Death

"Where did you find your grandfather?" Garini asked.

Carlina throat tightened. The preliminaries were over. Now came the hard part. "Grandpa sat at the kitchen table." Her voice cracked.

"Go on."

She felt as if he was pushing her bit by bit forward, until she would drop off a cliff. "My cousin . . . Emma threw a fit."

His eyebrows twitched. "Why?"

"Emma was the bride! His death destroyed her wedding."

Commissario Garini looked as if he had no clue what she was talking about.

Do you have no imagination at all? "Can you picture the bride coming up to church and saying that her grandfather just died?" Carlina closed her eyes. It was easier to speak without looking at the man made of steel next to her. "Everybody bursting into tears, the wedding canceled, no dancing, no party, the flowers wilting, the ceremony postponed, the honeymoon annulled . . ." She shook her head so hard, she felt the edge of the shelf beneath her hair.

"I like the wilting flowers," he said. "Nice touch."

Her eyes flew open. I hate you.

He returned her gaze without emotion. "Go on."

Another step closer to the edge. "In the end, we said it would make no difference to my grandfather if we pretended he had died later, but for Emma, it made all the difference in the world."

"Interesting." His voice was dry as dust.

Damn that man. He wanted to provoke her, and he managed all too well. “We had another reason, too.”

“Well?”

“The doctor told Uncle Teo to avoid stress because of his heart. He almost forbade him to join the wedding party. Emma and I were afraid that Uncle Teo would have a heart attack if we told him in the middle of the wedding.”

He lifted a skeptical eyebrow but didn't comment. “What happened then?”

Carlina took a deep breath, but for once, the smell of dust and boxes and brand-new products, the smell of her own universe, failed to soothe her. Where had all the oxygen gone? "Everybody could see my grandfather through the kitchen window, so we decided to put him into bed."

"Fully dressed?" His eyebrow twitched.

"Emma undressed him, but she forgot the socks."

"What were you doing in the meantime?" He sounded as if he thought she had used the interim to dance a solitary waltz in the kitchen.

Carlina clenched her teeth. "I was sick in the bathroom."

"So you did feel some emotions. Congratulations." His voice was vitriolic enough to make a hole into the floor if it dripped.

Don't reply, Carlina. Ignore him.

"Let me get one point clear," Garini said. "If I understood correctly, you were both fully dressed for the wedding in long evening gowns."

"Mine was long." Carlina looked at her hands. "Emma's was short."

"Both with high heels, I assume?" His light eyes seemed to pierce her.

"Yes." Carlina glared at him. "Want to know our hairdos as well? If you wish, I can send you a picture."

"That would be helpful," he said. "Wasn't it difficult to carry a dead man in that outfit?"

"It was."

"Anything unusual strike you?"

Carlina wanted to hit his immobile face. "I don't do this kind of thing every day, if that's what you mean!"

"I meant with the body."

Carlina crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I've never seen a body before. Ever. I wouldn't know if anything was unusual, even if it came up and bit me in the face." Her hand flew to her mouth. "Ugh. Didn't want to say that."

He laughed.

Her gaze flew to his face. He knew how to laugh? The laughter transformed his lean face, made his eyes sparkle. He looked like a different man. Carlina bit back an answering grin.
He looked at her, his head placed to one side, as if he was considering something. "Would you describe how you carried the body?"

Carlina's face twisted.

"Please."

Her mouth dropped. He could be polite? She took a deep breath. "Grandpa was sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes were open. Emma nudged him, and he fell to the side. I - I managed to catch him before he fell. He was heavy - and warm."

"Warm?" His sharp voice interrupted her.

"Yes." Carlina swallowed. "I said to Emma he must have died a short time ago."

"But you were sure he was dead?"

Carlina's mouth dropped open. "Oh, Madonna, yes, of course. If you had seen him . . . there was no doubt."

"Was it cold in the apartment?"

"No. It was stifling. I remember thinking so when I came through the door. It smelled of peppermint." Her throat hurt at the memory. "Grandpa used to eat peppermint drops all the time." Don't cry, Carlina.

"What happened then?"

"I couldn't make him sit up again." Her throat tightened. "Emma said I should place his head on the table, but it felt so . . . irreverent." Damn. She shouldn't have used that word. Nothing in her behavior had led him to believe that she gave a damn about reverence for the dead. She cringed and waited for a scathing comment from Garini. When nothing came, she looked up at him.

His light eyes searched her face. "Go on." It didn't sound quite as commanding as before.

"I made Emma take his feet. We carried him to his bed. It felt . . . indecent, and there was that smell."

His eyebrows pulled together. "What smell?"

"I . . I don't know. I've never smelled it before. Sort of sweet, but in a cloying way."

"And then?"

"And then I was sick." She felt sick now.

"What did his face look like?"

Carlina's mouth was dry. "I tried not to look. I wanted to remember him the way he had been."

"So you didn't see anything? Not a glimpse?"

Carlina swallowed. "It was . . . bluish."

He gave a sharp, short nod. "Did Emma say it had been difficult to undress him?"

"No." Carlina shook her head. "She was real quick. But then, she was in a hurry."

"I see." The ironic note was back in his voice.

Carlina pulled herself together. "I thought it wouldn't make a difference. I only wanted to help Emma." She sounded pleading now. "I also planned to get up early the next morning, to find him. Then nobody else would have suffered the same shock."

"But you didn't?"

"No." Carlina could feel herself blushing. "I overslept." He'll think I'm a total loser.

"Uncle Teo found him."

"His twin."

"Yes." Carlina sighed. "I was so glad that he didn't have a heart attack right there and then. However, later, just as Marco wanted to sign the death certificate, he . . ."

Garini held up one hand. "Hold on. Your mother told me Marco was called because your family doctor was ill."

"That's right."

"What's the name of your family doctor?" Garini was back to his true form. He shot his questions like bullets at her.

"Enrico Catalini."

"Is Marco the official stand-in for Signor Catalini?"

"I don't know." Carlina frowned. "But my mother wanted to have Marco because he's a family member. He married my cousin Angela some months ago."

Garini's light eyes narrowed in thought.

Carlina was glad she had chosen to sit. The shelf in her back gave her a bit of much needed stability to face those x-ray eyes of his.

"What happened next?"

"Uncle Teo exploded into the kitchen and made a big scene because Grandpa still had his socks on." She sighed. "I didn't know he always took off his socks first when he undressed. I never even thought about his socks."

The Commissario didn't comment.

Carlina threw him a glance. No sympathy there. "Next thing I knew, Uncle Teo called the police." Something scratched her ear. Carlina reached up and blushed. Damn. She still had the bra and slip from the mannequin over her shoulder. What a sight she was! She pulled them off with a quick move and stuffed them behind her back. If only he didn't start laughing.

His light eyes never wavered. "Why didn't you stop your Uncle Teo?"

Carlina bristled. "How could I? Wrestle the phone from his hands?"

"For example." His voice was mild. "I'd have thought you're a woman with enough resources." For some reason, it didn't sound like a compliment.

"Uncle Teo turned beetroot-red." Carlina didn't look at Garini. She didn't want to see the disbelief in his eyes. "I was afraid he would have a heart attack if I stopped him. Besides, all the family was listening in.”

"Fine." His voice sounded hard. "And can you explain why you didn't tell me the truth when I came?"

She looked at her hands. They had clenched themselves into a tight knot. "I wanted to, but you came early. When I came downstairs, the gang, I mean my family, had told you everything."

"Everything but the truth."

"Well." Carlina's felt short of breath, as if something strangled her. "I wanted to speak to you alone." She lifted her gaze and frowned at him. "You remember that, don't you?"

He lifted his eyebrows. "You didn't try very hard."

Carlina closed her eyes for an instant. "I didn't want to shake my mother. She was so upset."

"Was she?"

How she hated his snarky questions. "Yes, she was!" She balled her fists. "I don't know if you saw her cushion?"

"I did."

"Well, she usually carries that cushion around with her when she's on the road, but in the house, she doesn't take it. When she came up to me and had that cushion in her arms, I knew she was shaken to the core."

He blinked. "Are you telling me your mother never leaves the house without a cushion?"

Oh, God. She shouldn't have mentioned it. "Yes." She hoped her voice conveyed  dignity.
"It's a little idiosyncrasy."

"Did she take it to the wedding?" He sounded intrigued.

"Yes."

"And did she use it?"

"I don't know why you need to know that! It doesn't have anything to do with my grandfather." Carlina pressed her lips together.

His mouth twitched. "Humor me."

"Oh, all right." Carlina sighed. "She used it to sleep in Church."

"I take it the service wasn't fascinating?"

Carlina suppressed a giggle. "It was the sixth family wedding this year."

"In that case, I understand completely."

Carlina smiled. "Later, Mama used the cushion to sleep on the table."

"She slept on the table?" Now he sounded scandalized.

"Just with her head." Carlina hastened to add. "It doesn't matter; everybody is used to it. In fact, I think it's very considerate of her."

He blinked. "In what way?"

"Well, we always share a taxi back, and when she's tired, she simply goes to sleep. Other mothers would start to nag until the party is broken up."

"I see." His tone spoke volumes.

He thinks we're a bunch of idiots. Carlina stared at her hands and concentrated on relaxing them. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw that he still leaned against the door frame as if he belonged there, a relaxed panther.

From the street, she heard the faint noise of people walking by, talking, laughing. Inside, it was so quiet, her own breathing seemed too loud.

"To sum up, Signorina Ashley. You moved your dead grandfather because you didn't want to upset your cousin Emma. You allowed your great uncle Teo to call the police with a crazy tale because you didn't want him to have a heart attack. You lied to the police because you didn't want to upset your mother Fabbiola. I'm impressed. You're quite the philanthropist."

About the author:

Beate Boeker is a traditionally published author since 2008 and has 11 novels and short stories online available. Some of them were shortlisted for the Golden Quill Contest, the National Readers' Choice Award, and the "best indie books of 2012" contest.



Beate is a marketing manager by day and a writer by night. She has a degree in International Business Administration and her daily experience in marketing continuously provides her with a wide range of fodder for her novels, be it hilarious or cynical.



Widely traveled, she speaks German (her mother language), English, French and Italian fluently and lives in the North of Germany together with her husband and daughter.



While 'Boeker' means 'books' in a German dialect, her first name Beate can be translated as ‘Happy’ . . . and with a name that reads ‘Happy Books,’ what else could she do but write novels with a happy end?



Although being German, she has chosen to write in English because she appreciates the professional support and training opportunities a writer can find in the US.


Connect with Beate:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon author page | Book trailer

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