An Excerpt from The Marshal, a Novel of Romantic Suspense by Adrienne Giordano

The Marshal
by Adrienne Giordano

We are delighted to welcome author Adrienne Giordano to Omnimystery News today.

Adrienne's new novel of romantic suspense is The Marshal (Harlequin Intrigue; January 2015 mass market paperback and ebook formats) and we are pleased to introduce you to it with an excerpt from the first chapter.

— ♦ —

THIS WAS A SWITCH.
  Deputy U.S. marshal Brent Thompson stood in a Chicago hotel ballroom among a throng of impeccably dressed political big shots that, for once, he didn't have to protect.
  Tonight, he was a guest.
  Whether that made him happy or not was anyone's guess. But he'd stay another hour for Judge Kline, a woman he'd spent two years watching over after her husband and children were murdered by some nut who'd been on the losing end of a ruling. Judge Kline had ordered him to pay a $1,200 fine and somehow he was mad enough to wipe out her entire family, leaving her to deal with guilt and rage and heartache.
  Crazy.
  Sometimes — sometimes? Really? — Brent didn't understand people. Or maybe it was their motivations he didn't understand, but the human race baffled him.
  Tonight Judge Kline, who'd refused to allow her life to collapse under grief, was smiling. A welcome sight since her eighty-five-year-old mother had decided to throw one hell of a shindig for the judge's sixtieth birthday.
  "Brent?"
  Brent turned and found the ever-polished Gerald Hennings, Chicago's highest-profile defense attorney, weaving through the crowd. Accompanying him was a petite blonde in a floor-length bright blue gown. She had to be over fifty, but may have had a little work done to preserve her extraordinary looks. Her perfect cheekbones, the big blue eyes and sculpted nose were duplicates of the ones Brent recognized from Hennings's daughter, Penny. Didn't take a genius to figure out this woman was Mrs. Hennings. Brent held his hand out. "Mr. Hennings. Nice to see you."
  Five months earlier, Brent had been assigned to protect Penny Hennings after yet another nut — plenty of nuts in his world — had attempted to kill her on the steps of a federal courthouse. Penny had nearly put Brent into a psych ward with her relentless mouthiness and aggressive attitude, but he'd formed a bond with her. A kinship. And, much like Judge Kline, they'd remained friends after his assignment had ended. For whatever reason, emotionally speaking, he couldn't let either one of them go. The fact that they'd all experienced tragedy might be the common denominator, but he chose not to think too hard about it. What was the point? None of them would ever fully recover from their individual experiences. All they could do was move on.
  Hennings turned to the woman at his side. "I don't think you've met my wife, Pamela. Pam, this is Marshal Brent Thompson. He was the marshal."
  She smiled and — yep — he was looking at Penny in twenty-five years.
  "I know," Mrs. Hennings said. She stepped forward and gripped both of his arms. "Thank you."
  The gesture, so direct and heartfelt, caught him sideways and he stiffened. Freak that he was he'd never gotten comfortable with strange women touching him. Most guys would love it. Brent? He liked his space being his.
  But he stood there, allowing Penny's mother to thank him in probably the only way she knew how. He could go on about how he'd just been doing his job, which was all true, but even he understood that he'd worked a little harder for Penny. She reminded him too much of his younger sister, Camille, and he hadn't been able to help himself. "You're welcome. Your daughter has become a good friend. And if I ever need legal advice, I know who to call."
  Mrs. Hennings laughed.
  Mr. Hennings swooped his finger in the air. "You're not working tonight?"
  "No, sir. Judge Kline is a friend."
  "How nice," Mrs. Hennings said.
  "Yes, ma'am. I worked with her for two years. She would always tell me if my tie didn't match. That happened a lot."
  "As the mother of two sons, I'm sure your mother appreciates that."
  Mother.
  Mr. Hennings cleared his throat and, in Brent's mind, the room fell silent. He glanced around, looking for … what? Confirmation that the room at large wasn't listening to his conversation?
  Maybe.
  All around people gabbed and mingled and pretty much ignored Brent. Imagined it. He exhaled and once again the orchestra music — something classical — replaced the fog in his brain.
  He'd fielded comments about his mother almost his entire life. It should have been easier by now.
  Except for the nagging.
  Twenty-three years of gut-twisting, anger-fueled obsession that kept him prisoner. "My mother died when I was seven, ma'am."
  Social pro that she must have been, considering her husband's wizardry with the press, Mrs. Hennings barely reacted. "I'm so sorry." She turned to Gerald, shooting him the stink-eye. "I didn't know."
  Moments like these, a guy had to step up and help his brother-in-arms. "No need to apologize. I think about her every day." And knowing how this conversation would go, the curiosity that came with why and how such a young woman had died, Brent let it fly. "She was murdered."
  Social pro or not, Mrs. Hennings gasped. "How horrible."
  Brent sipped his club soda, gave the room another glance and came back to Mrs. Hennings. "My sister and I adjusted. We have a supportive family."
  "I hope they caught the person who did this."
  "No ma'am. It's still an open case."
  A case that lived and breathed with him and had driven him into law enforcement. If the Carlisle sheriff's office couldn't find his mother's killer, he'd do it himself.
  "Are the police still looking into it?"
  Brent shrugged. "If they get a tip or some new information. I work it on my downtime, but downtime is short."
  Mrs. Hennings, obviously still embarrassed by bringing up the subject of his dead mother, turned to her husband. "Can't one of your investigators help? You do all sorts of pro bono work for clients. Why not this?"
  "Pam, those are cases where we're defending people. This is different."
  Brent held up his hand As much as he'd like help, he didn't want a domestic war started over it. "Mrs. Hennings, it's okay. But thank you."
  Still, down deep, Brent wanted to find the person who'd wrecked his family and had saddled him with a level of responsibility — and guilt — no seven-year-old should have known. Every day, the questions haunted him. Could he have helped her? Should he have done something when he first heard noise? Was he a crummy investigator because all these years later he still couldn't give his mother justice?
  At this point, if he couldn't find this monster on his own, he'd take whatever help available. Ego aside, justice for his mother was what mattered.
  Mrs. Hennings kept her gaze on her husband. "You were just complaining that Jenna is bored with her current assignments. After what Brent did for Penny, give Jenna his mother's case to investigate. It'll challenge her and keep her out of your hair. Where's the problem?"
  Hennings pressed his lips together and a minuscule, seriously minuscule, part of Brent pitied the man. If he didn't agree with his wife, his life would be a pile of manure.
  Mrs. Hennings shot her husband a meat cleaver of a look, then turned back to Brent. "My husband will call you about this tomorrow. How's that?"
  With limited options, and being more than a little afraid to argue because, hey, he was no dummy either, he grinned at Mr. Hennings. "That'd be great. Thank you."

JENNA SLID ONTO one of the worn black vinyl bar stools at Freddie's Tap House, a mostly empty shot-and-a-beer joint on the North Side of Chicago.
  How the place stayed in business, she had no idea. On this Wednesday night the sports bar down the block was packed, while the only people patronizing Freddie's were an elderly man sitting at the bar and a couple huddled at a table in the back.
  The bartender glanced down the bar at her and wandered over. "Evening. Get you something?"
  You sure can.
  "Whatever's on tap. Thanks."
  He nodded and scooped a glass from behind the bar, pouring a draft as he eyed her black blazer and the plunging neckline on her cashmere sweater. "Haven't seen you in here before. New in town?"
  As much as she'd tried to dress down with jeans, she hadn't been able to resist the sweater. When dealing with men, a little help from her feminine wiles — also known as her boobs — never hurt. "Nope. New in here though."
  "You look more Tiffany's than Freddie's."
  Already Jenna liked him. "Are you Freddie?"
  "Junior."
  "Sorry?"
  "Freddie Junior. My dad is Freddie. I took over when he retired."
  He slid the beer in front of Jenna. Once more she looked around, took in the polished, worn wood of the bar, the six tables along the wall and the line of empty bar stools.
  "Slow night," Freddie said.
  Lucky me. She opened her purse, pulled out a fifty and set it on the bar. Next came the photo taken the week prior by a patron in this very bar. He glanced down at the fifty, then at the photo.
  "I'm not a cop," Jenna said. "I'm an investigator working for a law firm."
  "Okay."
  She pointed at the photo of two men with a woman in the background. Jenna needed to find that woman. "Have you seen her in here?"
  He picked up the photo and studied it. "Yeah. Couple of times. When a woman like that walks into a beer joint, there's generally a reason. Kinda like you."
  Figuring it was time to put her cleavage to work, Jenna inched forward, gave him a view of the girls beneath that V-neck and smiled. Most women would love the idea that a fifteen-pound weight gain had gone straight to their chest. Jenna supposed it hadn't hurt her ability to claw information from men — and maybe she used it to her advantage. But she also wanted to be recognized for extracting the information and not for the way she'd done it.
  Did that even make sense? She wasn't sure anymore. All she knew was her need for positive reinforcement had led her to using her looks to achieve her goals. That meant wearing clingy, revealing clothing. Such a cliché. But the thing about clichés was they worked.
  "Any idea what her reason for being here was?"
  Freddie took the boob-bait and leaned in. "No. Both times she met someone. Why?"
  All Jenna could hope was he'd gotten the woman's name. "My client is being held on a robbery charge. He says he was in here the night of the robbery and he met this woman. Her name is Robin."
  "Where'd you get the picture?"
  "Friends of my client."
  He dropped the picture on the bar and tapped it. "Birthday party, right?"
  "Yes. My client and six of his friends. Any idea where I can find her?"
  "Nah."
  "Did she pay by credit card?"
  If she paid by credit card, there would be a record of the transaction, and Jenna would dig into the Hennings & Solomon coffers and pay Freddie a highly negotiated sum for a look at his credit card receipts. From there, she'd get a name and two calls later would have an address for Robin-the-mystery-woman.
  "Cash."
  Shoot.
  Freddie may have been lying. Jenna studied him, took in his direct gaze. Not lying. At least she didn't think so. Again with the wavering? Didn't she have a good sense about these things? Yes, she did. For that reason she'd go with the theory that Freddie seemed to be a small-business owner who wanted to stay out of trouble while trying to make a living. She dug her card and a pen out of her purse, wrote her cell number on the card and placed it next to the fifty on the bar.
  "How about I leave you my card? If she comes in again and you call me, there's a hundred bucks in it for you."
  Freddie glanced at the card. After a moment, he half shrugged. "Sure. If I see her."
  Jenna took one last sip of her beer, slid off the stool and hitched her purse onto her shoulder. "Thanks." She nodded toward the fifty. "Keep the change."

— ♦ —

Photo provided courtesy of
Adrienne Giordano

Adrienne Giordano writes romantic suspense and mystery. She is a Jersey girl at heart, but now lives in the Midwest with her workaholic husband, sports obsessed son and Buddy the Wheaten Terrorist (Terrier).

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

— ♦ —

The Marshal
Adrienne Giordano

His painful past is their present danger …

The last thing US Marshal Brent Thompson needs is distraction from his work. But distraction — in the form of a sexy Chicago investigator — is exactly what he gets. Jenna Hayward is as alluring as she is determined, driven to help apprehend the murderer who killed Brent's mother twenty-three years ago.

With a shared mission — and a steadily rising attraction that jeopardizes Brent's resolve to stay unattached — the pair must work together to get answers … before the murderer makes them his next victims.

        

Please Welcome Mystery Author Tj O'Connor

with Tj O'Connor

We are delighted to welcome back mystery author Tj O'Connor to Omnimystery News.

Tj's second mystery in his Gumshoe Ghost series, Dying for the Past (Midnight Ink; January 2015 trade paperback and ebook formats), is published today, and we asked him to tell us a little more about his series character. He responded by providing us with an interview with the gumshoe ghost himself, Detective Oliver "Tuck" Tucker.

— ♦ —

Photo provided courtesy of
Tj O'Connor

Introduction: What follows is an interview with Detective Oliver "Tuck" Tucker, former detective with the Frederick County, Virginia, Sheriff's Department. A point of fact — Tuck is dead. He was murdered more than a year ago and was back at the job the next day. You could say he now investigates post mortem.

Question: Before we ask some personal background, how about a quick summary of your first case.

A: Well, Dying to Know was not my first case. I've been a homicide cop for more than fifteen years. But it was my first case as a dead detective. The Gumshoe Ghost is my moniker now — and I'm not fond of that, but oh well. Anyway, Dying to Know was how it all started, right? See, I was killed in the beginning of the case and had to come back and help my old partner and wife solve my murder. They were lost without me as always. And what a case! First, poof, I'm dead and back. Then holy-crap-on-a-peanut-butter-sandwich, everyone was a suspect — well, everyone but Hercule. But the wildest thing you ever heard of was that two young wraiths sought me out to solve their homicide, too. Except theirs was fifty years ago. And, along the way, some other bodies were piling up, too. Someone in sleepy Winchester, Virginia, had been very, very bad. Believe me, it was my toughest case — and not just because I was solving my own murder either.

Question: Now, some background, Oliver. Tell us about yourself and your family.

A: First, lose the "Oliver" — I'm Tuck. Oliver was my grandfather's name. Funny about that, I didn't know any of my family until I was murdered. You might say they started coming out of the closet then. I never liked "Oliver," it always reminds me of that sniveling little shit in Oliver Twist. I'm more a Raymond Chandler or Mickey Spillane type. You know, tough, rugged, chiseled jaw, and to-die-for looks.

Question: But you don't have a chiseled jaw and you don't look so rugged. So …

A: Look, I'm dead. So I have to-die-for looks, right? Oh, that could be another of my author's books, "Dying for Looks."

Question: Your author?

A: Yeah, Tj O'Connor. He thinks he's the brains behind me. But, I do the heavy lifting — chase the bad guys, get killed, catch the bad guys, and then … wham … he writes the books and takes all the credit. Yeah, yeah, he was a government agent and international consultant and all that dribble. He chased spies and terrorists — blah, blah, blah … he never lets me forget it either. But I ask you — did he ever get killed? No. Did he ever get shot? No. Do the dead hire him to solve their cases? No. I rest my case.

Question: Sure, okay. So, back to your background …

A: Okay, so, I've been a cop for more than twenty years. I live in Winchester, Virginia — an amazing, historic town in northwestern Virginia. My partner is Bear Braddock — here's a hint, he ain't called Bear because of his darling personality or his gymnast figure. Then, there's Angel — Angela Hill-Tucker — my brilliant university professor and wife. She put the vava in the voom. And Hercule, too, my best pal. He got Angel and I back together after my murder. Oh, he's a dog, too. A black Lab. But don't bring that up, he might chew something up — like you. Last but not least, there's Doc, my dead great grandfather who is my mentor these days. There are a few more, too, but I'll talk about them later.

Question: What was being killed like? How has it affected you?

A: How the hell do I know? One minute I was racing to save Angel and the next I was standing in my den looking down at my body in the foyer. Somewhere in between, I was shot in the heart by a madman. Poof, I was watching me carried out of my own house ten toes up. For the longest time, too, only Hercule could see and hear me. I had to figure everything out on my own, too. I watched a lot of old movies and they gave me a very bad idea of what being a ghost was about. Especially that old movie, Topper — which by the way, our (Tj and my) beautiful and talented agent, Kimberley Cameron, says our books are like. But I figured it out. Poof here. Poof there. As I said in Dying to Know, it's like watching T.V. I just change the channel and I'm where I want to be. Except sometimes, I don't know where I need to go and I have to channel surf.

Question: How is your newest case — Dying for the Past — going? Are you making any headway?

A: Oh, hell yeah. I already solved the case. Although Tj took credit. You can tell he didn't have a clue — he chased false leads and almost nabbed the wrong suspect. I let him dangle for a while before I saved his butt, er, his ending. And what thanks did I get …

Question: Ah, Tuck, the case?

A: Yeah, right. So in Dying for the Past, Angel threw this big-shot charity gala. All the rich and famous were there. Let me tell you, she was looking hot, too. Tj nailed it — "A woman with shoulder-length auburn hair and sparkling green eyes stood in the middle of the mansion's ballroom. Her long, silky gown was icing poured hot over sultry curves." Then, while the champagne and money were flowing … bam! Some mysterious big shot was murdered — shot right through his carnation in front of a hundred witnesses, too. Of course, nobody saw sh … anything. A guest jitterbugged in and murdered Mr. Carnation to Benny Goodman.

And that's just the crime scene!

Then there are the suspects — As always, there's Poor Nic again with one hand in the cookie jar and the other around the Russian mob. Add in a missing federal witness, a tough-as-nails federal prosecutor, a ghost-investigator, the beautiful, conniving widow, and you've got a cast of wild and crazy suspects! Did I mention Vincent? He's the spirit of a 1930's gangster looking for his lost book holding the secrets to modern-day spies, gangsters, and corruption in Washington DC — and oh, my, he's got Sassy on his arm. She's a young, wild vixen giving me a wink and a pinch every time I turn around. You wouldn't believe what everyone is willing to do for that damn book. Or maybe you would.

Dare I go on? No. You'd never believe it.

Question: So, who dunnit?

A: The killer, of course.

Question: No, I mean …

A: I know, I know. But, you can't expect me to tell you, right? Who would buy our book? (Hear that, Tj, our book). And then Tj would blame me, bang his head on the wall, and run around screaming like a baby. Nope, I'm not getting into that!

Question: Okay, on a personal note … what do you like most about being the Gumshoe Ghost, er, dead detective?

I like solving the dead cases — or I should say, the cases for the dead. Their killers think they got away with murder, and for the longest time, maybe they did. Then, surprise! Those victims find me and I'm on the case. I get to dispense a little overdue justice. Yeah, I sure like that.

Question: What do you like least?

A: Oh, where to begin? Well, once you see my Angel, the thing I miss most will be obvious — but it's a cozy (or so my publisher says) so I can't spell it out for you. Let's just say "laughter, bourbon, hangovers. Long nights on stakeouts. Long nights with Angel. Aching for sleep, praying it never came … "

Question: Any closing comments? Thoughts on Dying for the Past?

A: As for me, if you're gonna murder someone — look over your shoulder at the shadow or the wisp in the wind. Listen for the bump in the night or the sigh just beside your ear. That'll be me. And once I find you. It's all over. (Boy, I love the melodrama and the cheap dime store lines, don't you?) As for my partner, Tj, he'd be pissy with me if I didn't say "buy the books." Yes, it's a cheap promotional stunt, but if I didn't pass it along, he might get me exercised, or get exorcised, one or the other.

— ♦ —

As an international security consultant and former government agent, TJ O'Connor has conducted security consulting, investigations, and anti-terrorism operations around the world. Today, he provides independent security consulting to government agencies and private businesses. He lives in Winchester, Virginia.

For more information about the author, please visit his website at TjOConnor.com or find him on Facebook.

— ♦ —

Dying for the Past
Tj O'Connor
A Gumshoe Ghost Mystery

Dying is not for the faint of heart … Neither is the murder of a mysterious philanthropist with ties to the Russian mob and 1939 gangsters …

At an A-list charity ball organized by his wife, Angela, former detective Oliver "Tuck" Tucker is doing his best to prove that ghosts know how to have a good time — until a man is murdered in cold blood on the dance floor.

Never one to let a mystery go unsolved, Tuck is on the case with help from Angela and his former police-detective partners. Together, they must be the first to read "the book" — deceased gangster Vincent Calabrese's journal that names names and reveals the dirty secrets of several modern-day spies.

As Tuck learns the book's secrets, he begins to unravel his own family's wayward past, leading to the question — is being a ghost hereditary? Even while chasing a killer, the biggest challenge Tuck must conquer is how to be back amongst the living … but not one of them.

      

Almost Perfect by Orly Krauss-Winer is Today's Third Featured Free MystereBook

Omnimystery News is pleased to feature …

Almost Perfect by Orly Krauss-Winer

A Romantic Thriller

Publisher: Orly Krauss-Winer

… as today's third free mystery ebook.

  

This title was listed for free as of January 08, 2015 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.

The world of Nili Abadi, partner in a successful law firm, is turned upside down when the body of another partner is found in a burned-out car that belongs to her best friend. The fact that her friend is also a colleague and an ex-lover of the deceased, leads the police to arrest her as the main suspect in the murder.

Nili, convinced that her friend is innocent, sets out to help expose the truth. Although the promotion of the police officer in charge of the investigation is on the line and he needs her help to solve the case, he isn't very enthusiastic about her involvement. However, when she exposes dark secrets from the dead man's past that shed new light and complicate the investigation, he is forced to cooperate with her, primarily because he is afraid that her involvement in the case has put her life is in danger.

— Almost Perfect by Orly Krauss-Winer

Imogene in New Orleans by Hunter Murphy is Today's Second Featured Free MystereBook

Omnimystery News is pleased to feature …

Imogene in New Orleans by Hunter Murphy

An Imogene McGregor Mystery

Publisher: Rolltop Publishing

… as today's second free mystery ebook.

  

This title was listed for free as of January 08, 2015 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.

Imogene Deal McGregor has lived nearly three-quarters of a century in Alabama. She has a penchant for following her own instincts, as well as more grit and spunk than her hypochondriac son, Billy McGregor, and Billy's impulsive partner Jackson can handle. The boys take Imogene to New Orleans with their devilishly handsome English bulldog Goose, hoping to visit friends and attend a second line parade, but moments after arriving in the French Quarter, they find their friend Glenway Gilbert murdered in his art gallery. Immediately, Imogene and the boys run into a temperamental and ethically-challenged lieutenant who appears hell-bent on neglecting the crime, compelling them to seek answers themselves.

As they delve into Glenway Gilbert's murder, Imogene and the boys realize the deceased artist was surrounded by suspicious friends and lovers. With Goose the bulldog by their side, Jackson and Billy seek answers among old friends and new enemies, while Imogene follows her own ideas on the case. But the sooner they solve the murder, the sooner they can get back to catching beads and eating pralines.

— Imogene in New Orleans by Hunter Murphy

Comatoast by Judith Jackson is Today's First Featured Free MystereBook

Omnimystery News is pleased to feature …

Comatoast by Judith Jackson

A Val Valentyn Mystery

Publisher: Judith Jackson

… as today's first free mystery ebook.

  

This title was listed for free as of January 08, 2015 at 7:00 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.

Things are looking up for Val Valentyn. After their great success at stumbling on to the identity of the real killer of Val's boss, she and her friends, Julie and Rose, have opened their own private detective agency. And after only six weeks in business they're starting to make a name for themselves. There is that minor problem of the client who says she is going to sue, but you can't please everyone.

So, when a woman asks them to find her mother's killer, they're not about to let the fact that they know almost nothing about solving a murder stop them from taking the case. Seriously, how hard can it be?

— Comatoast by Judith Jackson