An Excerpt from Lamentation, a Suspense Thriller by Joe Clifford

Lamentation by Joe Clifford

We are delighted to welcome back novelist Joe Clifford to Omnimystery News.

Earlier this week we had the opportunity to catch up with Joe to discuss his new novel of suspense Lamentation (Oceanview Publishing; October 2014 hardcover and ebook formats) and today we are pleased to introduce you to it with an excerpt from the first two chapters.

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I HAD DUCKED INSIDE THE PANTRY TO see what else we could sell when I tripped over a cord of wood and snared the back of my work coat on an old, rusty nail. The sharp point tore through the thick padding and ripped a hole in my long johns, all the way through my undershirt. I hurried to the sink and peeled off the layers. Just a surface cut. Thankfully, unlike the heat and power, the water was still on. I dabbed at the wound. Last thing I needed was lockjaw. I hadn't had a tetanus shot in twelve years. The estate clearing business was big in Ashton, and my boss, Tom Gable, a good guy, but it's not like the gig came with health insurance.
  All afternoon I'd been up at Ben Saunders' place, a two-hundred-year-old farmhouse in the foothills, cherry picking through the dead man's belongings, loading the U-Haul for trips to flea markets and swap shops in southern New England. Saunders had lived alone and was a packrat. The cancer finally got him around Thanksgiving. Most of his stuff was junk. A dumpster sat in the snow-covered driveway overflowing with waterlogged pads of fiberglass, chunks of splintered wood, jagged shards of glass, trash bags jam-packed with leftovers that didn't quite translate to dollars and cents. I was almost done, and I'd be glad for the day to end. If I wrapped up soon enough, I'd have time to shoot across town to catch Jenny before she put our son to bed. I hadn't seen him all week.
  Out the kitchen window, thick, black storm clouds roiled over Lamentation Mountain, churning like the gears to a violent machine, steamrolling the summit and sucking all light from the landscape, pastures and stonewalls shrouded in dense fields of leaden smoke. Cold winds rustled through broken windows. The flapping insulation sounded like a plastic bag held out a speeding car on the highway.
  The big, empty farmhouse smelled of abandon. Night was settling, and the snow began to fall heavier. It had been one of the worst winters on record. Certainly, the worst since the accident.
  Twenty years had passed but my parents' crash felt closer to last week. I stared in the direction of Lamentation Bridge, even though I couldn't see much through the evening gloaming, freezing my ass off, making no effort to get redressed. I knew that somewhere in the dark lay the exact spot where their brakes had failed, and they plunged into the frigid gray water of Echo Lake; the night everything had changed for my older brother, Chris, and me. I could feel death's presence lurking the entire week I'd been working there, a pall hanging over the place. It was the monkey on my back. The elephant in the room. The crazy little bird chirping in my ear.
  The headlights from Tom's truck fanned up the gravel drive, slicing through snowy pines and shining into my eyes.
  I pulled my ripped shirt over my head and bundled back up, then headed outside to greet him.
  Tom climbed down from the cab and lumbered over, broad shoulders curled, hands jammed in pockets. I could hear my untied work boots crunching frozen dirt and snow as harsh winds raced through the valley.
  "Almost done," I shouted above the din of engine and storm, nodding back at the old farmhouse. "Maybe one and a half, two hours left."
  Tom gestured for me to follow him back to his idling Ford F-350, which rumbled like a washing machine stuck with an uneven load. We hoisted ourselves into the warm cab, welcoming the hot air blasting through the vents.
  I pulled the Marlboros from my coat and cupped my hands to light one. The radio softly hummed. The Allman Brothers, "Sweet Melissa." That song had been playing the first time I kissed Jenny in Steve Ryba's basement back in high school. Always hit me hard. Tom offered me the other half of a ham and cheese from the Gas 'n' Go, but I shook him off. Last time I'd made the mistake of eating a gas station sandwich, I spent half the night with my face stuck in the toilet.
  Tom reached in his coat and passed along an envelope.
  By its heft, I could tell that there had to be at least a grand in there.
  Tom was a good boss and treated me well. But the nature of estate clearing meant nothing was permanent, and the brutal winters often made it difficult to transport merchandise. Which frequently spelled downtime for me — downtime I didn't want. A thousand bucks said we were looking at another one of those times.
  "That should hold you over a few," he said.
  "If it doesn't," I said, tucking the envelope into my coat, "that's not your problem."
  "Yeah, it is. You're the best guy I got, Jay. I hate doing this to you, but everything slows down this time of year. You know that."
  I nodded.
  "Might have another place up in Berlin. But that won't be for at least three weeks. Finding somewhere to sell the shit, that's another matter." He forced a laugh. "Helluva place to run antiques." His frost-burned cheeks winced a grin through the bushy beard that covered two-thirds of his face.
  I gazed out the window. Distant lights flickered on the range like fireflies in a jar in the summer, as families retreated safely inside to batten down hatches and weather the latest storm.
  I made for the handle. "Still a few things inside I have to pack. I've got a pair of floodlights in my truck I can use. I want to wrap this up for you today."
  "Don't worry about it," Tom said. "I'll take care of it."
  I didn't like the way he looked when he said that. Because I knew what was coming next. I'd been getting that look since my mom and dad had died, ever since my brother had turned into what he'd become. It spelled a long night of aggravation.
  "Turley's looking for you," he said.
  He didn't need to add the next part, but he did anyway. "They got Chris down at the station."

CHAPTER TWO

Lamentation Mountain was a misnomer, since it wasn't actually one mountain but a whole range of them, divided by the main thoroughfare of the Desmond Turnpike, which ran south all the way to Concord and north across the border into Montreal. There were no roads out of town to the east, and the only route west traversed the treacherous Ragged Pass, an icy deathtrap most of the year.
  The Ashton Police Station was deep in the flats, across Camel's Back and past Axel Rod Road. As I descended the ridge, snow dumped in big clumps, glopping on everything like wet, sticky rice, obscuring traffic lights and stop signs. The sporadic streetlamps couldn't make a dent in the dark, which made the short ride take a lot longer than it should have. Not that I was in any rush to get there.
  I'd lost count of how many times I'd picked up my asshole brother over the years. Shoplifting at the Price Chopper. Dealing at the TC Truck Stop. Garden-variety vagrancy. We were a small town, and people rarely pressed charges, but, still, it was embarrassing. Usually, they'd stick my big brother in a tiny cell for a night or two, then release him to me. Who else were they going to call? Chris was Ashton's village idiot. And he was my problem.
  The police station was brand-spanking new, part of the recently remodeled Town Centre. A few years ago, Ashton placed a measure on the ballot to allocate more police funds. Lombardi Construction got behind it, so it passed without a fight. Why wouldn't Lombardi support the measure? They'd be building the damned thing. With Michael Lombardi in the state senate and Adam Lombardi running the construction business, the family was the closest thing to royalty we had. Their dad, Gerry, even coached the high school wrestling team, on which Chris used to star back in the day, and the old man served on the board of UpStart, a mentoring program for at-risk boys throughout northern New Hampshire. Whenever he'd had too much to drink, Chris invariably would evoke the slight of having been left off the All-State team as the reason for his downfall. My brother never ran out of injustices to blame.
  Besides the precinct, the renovated Centre also included a senior living facility, the library, and town hall. In a town of under three thousand, adding extra squad cars and a new holding cell smacked of overkill. But the drug epidemic up here was getting out of hand. At least that had been the posturing by local media. A recent poll in the Herald claimed that over half of high school students had admitted to trying some narcotic before tenth grade, if nothing more than popping the occasional painkiller from mom's stash. According to the paper, drug use had become "a blight and a scourge on the community." That may've been hyperbole, but it didn't take much to put the fear of God into God-fearing people.
  Not that there wasn't a drug problem, especially at the truck stop, which was where most of those people seemed to congregate, setting up shop next door at the Maple Motor Inn, or in one of the sleazy motels along the Desmond Turnpike, waiting for their welfare checks on the first and fifteenth of every month. I'd seen firsthand the drug problem in Ashton, but giving cops shiny new toys to play with wasn't going to change anything; people were going to do whatever the hell they wanted to do.

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Photo provided courtesy of
Joe Clifford

As an artist, I explore the dark places, the uncomfortable places, the dingy bricks and concrete cracks of a cold uncaring city. I write about the criminals and dope fiends, the dealers and the dreamers, the cops with their heels on the throat, closing in on the kill. I know this scene well, because I once moved among them.

As a homeless junkie for several years, I stole with them, slept with them. I fought along side them. My work shows this world intimately, and ultimately it is not a loss I choose to lament; rather, it is a celebration I embrace. Because for as ugly as it gets out there at times, something beautiful can still shine through the darkness of that life. You just have to know where to look, and you only need to stay on your feet long enough to find it.

For more information about the author, please visit his website at JoeClifford.com and his author page on Goodreads, or find him on Facebook and Twitter.

— ♦ —

Lamentation
Joe Clifford
A Suspense Thriller

In a frigid New Hampshire winter, Jay Porter is trying to eke out a living and maintain some semblance of a relationship with his former girlfriend and their two-year-old son. When he receives an urgent call that Chris, his drug-addicted brother, is being questioned by the sheriff about his missing junkie business partner, Jay feels obliged to come to his rescue. After Jay negotiates his brother's release from the county jail, Chris disappears into the night.

As Jay begins to search for him, he is plunged into a cauldron of ugly lies and long-kept secrets that could tear apart his small hometown and threaten the lives of Jay and all those he holds dear. Powerful forces come into play that will stop at nothing until Chris is dead and the information he harbors is destroyed.

        

A Conversation with Mystery Author Betty Webb

with Betty Webb

We are delighted to welcome author Betty Webb to Omnimystery News today.

Betty's eighth mystery to feature Arizona-based private investigator Lena Jones is Desert Rage (Poisoned Pen Press; October 2014 hardcover, trade paperback, audiobook and ebook formats) and we recently had the chance to talk with her about the series.

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Omnimystery News: Tell us a little more about Lena Jones.

Photo provided courtesy of
Betty Webb

Betty Webb: Oddly enough, the character of Lena Jones came to me in a dream, and that dream was so realistic, it seemed she was alive. Lena has been the daughter I never had for 14 years now, and like me, she has been growing and changing. But since she'd been raised in a dozen foster homes (some of them very cruel), she has a long list of demons — which I, fortunately, do not have. I've been fascinated and honored to watch Lena work her way through them to live a life of honor and service.

OMN: Into which mystery genre would you place the books of this series?

BW: The Lena Jones books are hard-boiled. Given her background — shot in the head at the age of four, abandoned to die on the street, etc. — they would have to be.

OMN: Tell us something about Desert Rage that isn't mentioned in the publisher's synopsis.

BW: The subject of Arizona's history of capital punishment never entered my mind until halfway through the book, then lightening struck. Then capital punishment (and the many forms thereof) became such a big part of the plot, it almost took over the book. But I don't mind, because it made the book deeper.

OMN: How much of your own personal experience have you included in the books of this series?

BW: Lena Jones has become my conscience. This is going to sound sappy, but whenever I find myself in a situation where I can't seem to decide which path I should take, I ask myself, "What would Lena do?" And the answer always is: pick the courageous route.

OMN: Describe your writing process for us.

BW: I completely outline my book before starting to write. I outline each chapter all the way through, what action takes place in that chapter, what character appears in that chapter, where the chapter takes place, and so on. The outline is so detailed that all it needs is a little filling in to become the finished book. Sadly, though, I always throw away my outline sometime during chapter 3, because my characters refuse to do what I tell them to do. This has happened with all 12 of my mysteries (this includes the Gunn Zoo mysteries), and although writing an outline now seems like a total waste of time, I love outlining so much I still continue to do it!

OMN: How do you go about researching the plot points of your stories? Have you come across any particularly challenging or exciting topics?

BW: As a journalist of more than 20 years, I'm used to research and love it. My most challenging research was in 2000, when I traveled up to polygamy "prophet" Warren Jeffs' compound. Very, very scary. Those people are cultists and they are heavily armed. My most fun research was a two-week trip to Iceland to write The Puffin of Death, which will be out next fall. So, yes, I do a lot of first-hand work, but I also consult experts. For my new Desert Rage, which is about two 14-year-old kids who have confessed to a horrendous torture-murder, I consulted an attorney who specializes in juvenile law, the Scottsdale Police Department, and a fire marshall — among many, many other experts.

OMN: Tell us about the setting for this series.

BW: Most of the Lena Jones mysteries are set in or near Scottsdale, Arizona, where I live. I name real people, real business, and real places. However, when my plot concerns a particularly sensitive subject, I create a fictional town outside of Scottsdale. For instance, for Desert Cut, which centered around female genital mutilation, I created a fictional town. And for Desert Wind, which was about the cancer clusters created by Nevada's A-bomb testing, I created another fictional town.

OMN: You mentioned traveling to Iceland to research a book. Where else have you been … or may be planning to go?

BW: I have a trip to Paris coming up. Yes, it's expensive, but I'll save money on food since I won't be able to afford it!

OMN: What are some of your outside interests?

BW: I love to get out in the desert with my telescope and look at the stars. I also volunteer for the Phoenix Zoo, which is how I came up with the idea of my Gunn Zoo mysteries (in which no animal is ever harmed). And although I was raised on a cotton farm and spent my younger years picking cotton, I grew up to love opera and theater, and buy season tickets for both. Oh, and once in a blue moon I paint.

OMN: What is the best advice — and harshest criticism — you've received as an author?

BW: The best advice I ever received came from David Morrell (one of the nicest guys in the world), who said, "To be a writer, you have to want it more than anything else in your life. It's that demanding." The harshest criticism always comes from my editor, the sainted Barbara Peters, who sometimes makes me re-write a certain passage; and she's always right.

OMN: Complete this sentence for us: "If you write crime fiction, you have …".

BW: If you write crime fiction, you have a very dark side which, in your personal life, you are careful to keep hidden.

OMN: Was Desert Rage your working title for the book? And how involved are you with cover design?

BW: I had originally titled it Desert Regret, but Barbara Peters put her foot down on that and said that since there was so much rage in the book (especially that horrific mass killing) that it needed to be called Desert Rage.

I have a background in graphic design (25 years in Los Angeles and Madison Avenue ad agencies), so I always furnish a layout of my covers, which include a PhotoShopped photograph taken by my husband, a talented photographer. The designer at Poisoned Pen Press puts the finishing touches on it.

OMN: What kind of feedback have you received from readers?

BW: I love it when they write me to tell me how much they love my books. I love it a lot less when they write me to point out a typo.

OMN: Supppose the Lena Jones mysteries were to be adapted for television or film. Who do you see playing the part?

BW: Angelina Jolie (with a blond wig) would play Lena Jones. No doubt about it. Beauty and guts.

OMN: What kinds of books did you read when you were young?

BW: I was reading by the age of four, and even though I lived on an isolated farm, the bookmobile came by once a week. By the time I was in school, I'd read just about everything on the bookmobile, so I started on the school library, and then the town library. I read EVERYTHING, but was particularly fond of the adventure series by Enid Blyton.

OMN: What do you read now for pleasure?

BW: I still read EVERYTHING. But I'm partially prone to mysteries, literary fiction, and character-driven sci-fi (for instance, I love the new apocalyptic novels).

Specifically, I will read anything by Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Peter Robinson, Nevada Barr, and Canadian mystery writer Emily St. John Mandel, whose new apocalyptic novel, "Station Eleven," has been short-listed for a major literary award. In it, a troupe of Shakespearian actors travel from town to town and perform to what's left of humanity in a disease-decimated world. Read it.

OMN: What's next for you?

BW: I'm completing another Gunn Zoo mystery, The Puffin of Death, set in Iceland. As soon as that's done, I'll start on Desert Revenge. Yep, another Lena Jones mystery.

— ♦ —

As a journalist and literary critic for more than 20 years, Betty Webb — a resident of Scottsdale, Arizona — has interviewed U. S. presidents, Nobel prize-winners, astronauts who've walked on the moon, polygamy runaways, the homeless, and the hopeless. Now retired from journalism to write full time, she also contributes the Small Press column for Mystery Scene magazine and teaches creative writing at Phoenix College.

In her writing, Betty makes liberal use of her own varied background. She earned her way through art school by working as a folk singer but eventually gave up singing to concentrate on her art career. At various times she has picked cotton, raised chickens which laid blue eggs (Speckled Hamburgs), worked in a zoo, been a go-go dancer and horse breeder, taught Sunday School, founded a literary magazine, helped rebuild a long-abandoned 120-year-old farm house, and back-packed the Highlands of Scotland alone.

For more information about the author, please visit her website at BettyWebb-Mystery.com and her author page on Goodreads, or find her on Facebook and Twitter.

— ♦ —

Desert Rage
Betty Webb
A Lena Jones Mystery

Ferociously ambitious U.S. Senatorial candidate Juliana Thorsson has been keeping a secret.

The horrific slaughter of a prominent doctor, his wife, and their ten-year-old son inside their Scottsdale home brings Thorsson to Private Investigator Lena Jones. The slain family's 14-year-old, Alison, and her boyfriend, Kyle, have confessed to the murders. Thorsson wants to hire Lena to discover if Alison is telling the truth, but before accepting the job, Lena demands to know why a rising political star wants to involve herself with the fate of a girl she's never met.

Desperate for Lena's help, Thorsson reveals her explosive secret — that Alison is the candidate's biological daughter, a fact she's kept hidden for years. But that's not all. Thorsson then confides something even more unusual than a mere hidden pregnancy, something that could ruin her political plans forever.

Suspecting that Alison's parents had secrets of their own that could have led to the murders, Lena finally accepts Thorsson's assignment. But interviewing those who knew the family well soon puts Lena — now a strong defender of the two teens — in danger of her life.

        

Scorpion by Andrew Kaplan is Today's Open Road Daily Deal

Omnimystery News is pleased to feature Scorpion by Andrew Kaplan as today's Open Road Daily Deal.

The deal price of $0.99 is valid only for today, Tuesday, October 24, 2014.

Scorpion by Andrew Kaplan

A Suspense Thriller

Publisher: Open Road

Price: $0.99 (as of 10/24/2014 at 7:50 AM ET).

  

Important Note: Price(s) verified as of the date and time shown. Price(s) are subject to change at any time. Please confirm the price of the book before purchasing it.

Kelly Ormont sprints down the narrow streets of Paris. When a car pulls up and a man points a gun at her, life as she knows it is over. Within days, this beautiful congressman's daughter will be in the Middle East, where some of the wealthiest men in the world will bid to make her their slave. Only the Scorpion can save her now.

An American raised among the Bedouin, the Scorpion is the CIA's top agent in the Arabian peninsula. To save Kelly, he slips into the sinister underworld of human trafficking, where the kidnapped girl's trail leads him to a Saudi prince with fanatical global ambitions. When the Scorpion discovers a link between the prince and the Russians, Kelly will not be the only person who needs a savior.

— Scorpion by Andrew Kaplan

The Deceived by Linda Style is Today's Third Featured Free MystereBook

Omnimystery News is pleased to feature …

The Deceived by Linda Style

An L.A.P.D. Special Investigation

Publisher: Linda Style

… as today's third free mystery ebook.

  

This title was listed for free as of October 24, 2014 at 7:20 AM ET. Prices are subject to change without notice. The price displayed on the vendor website at the time of the purchase will be the price paid for the book. Please confirm the price of the book before completing your transaction.

For a summary of all of today's featured titles, plus any that may have appeared before and are repeat freebies, visit our Free MystereBooks page. This page is updated daily, typically by 8 AM ET.

More on today's free book, below.

When L.A.P.D. Detective Adam Ramsey receives a new lead he's even more certain the man behind his partner's murder is widow Jillian Sullivan's maybe-not-so-dead husband. Vowing to bring the man to justice, he calls on the attractive widow and shows her a recent photograph of a man who looks exactly like her late husband.

She's desperate to prove him wrong …

Jillian refuses to believe the only man who ever earned her trust could have deceived her and their daughter so thoroughly. She wants answers … even if she has to track down the imposter to get them.

When Adam meets Jillian on a plane bound for Mirador, a tiny village in the Costa Rican outback, he must keep her from tipping off his target. They form an uneasy alliance to find the truth, but when passion ignites in the steamy jungle, facing down wild animals, kidnappers, and drug lords becomes even more dangerous.

— The Deceived by Linda Style

Caribbean Chill by Ron Smoak is Today's Second Featured Free MystereBook

Omnimystery News is pleased to feature …

Caribbean Chill by Ron Smoak

A Dane Skoglund Adventure

Publisher: Smoak Media Group

… as today's second free mystery ebook.

  

This title was listed for free as of October 24, 2014 at 7:10 AM ET. Prices are subject to change without notice. The price displayed on the vendor website at the time of the purchase will be the price paid for the book. Please confirm the price of the book before completing your transaction.

For a summary of all of today's featured titles, plus any that may have appeared before and are repeat freebies, visit our Free MystereBooks page. This page is updated daily, typically by 8 AM ET.

More on today's free book, below.

The Battle of Brimstone Hill in 1782 discloses a once secret clandestine ocean escape route for the embattled fortress. British troops holding the fort make a danger-filled dash to remove their treasure from the hands of the invading French.

More than 230 years later, this long forgotten underground hideaway is now inhabited by modern day pirates. The Caribbean Sea becomes the backdrop of an impending mass murder and theft, the size of which will stagger the world. Vacationing after their ordeal in the Amazon, Dane Skoglund and Hugo Winsor along with their cohorts stumble across the deadly plans and are drawn unwillingly into the fray.

This sinister plot begins in the dusty Middle East and spreads to the beautiful islands of St. Maarten and St. Kitts. Their vacation becomes a nightmare, threatening the lives of Dane, Hugo and their party, forcing them into action to save their friends and thwart pirates trying to orchestrate the largest theft in history.

— Caribbean Chill by Ron Smoak