Welcome to the Weekend Writing Warriors. Sorry for missing last week. I'm overwhelmed (at times) with my new normal. Hubs' health is getting worse, even after being in rehab for four weeks. I hope to keep up with this group. I so enjoy reading the snippets.
I'm sharing another snippet from the 2nd Alex O'Hara mystery novel, The Case of the Fabulous Fiancé. Alex is a P.I. in the small Lake Michigan resort town near Grand Rapids.
I picked up from last time. Some changes were made to the original.
It wasn’t like Nick to blame someone else for his own faults. Then, again, what did I really know about him? Until five months ago, he’d been out of my life since his college graduation when he loaded up his silver Ford Escort and headed for Washington, D.C.
He’d pop in and out on holidays to see his folks, maybe a couple of other times a year. Tony and Maria never talked much about their son’s job with the State Department. Whenever the subject of Nick’s job came up, Tony was really good at the artful dodge. That’s what made him a first-class investigator. If Pop knew, he would’ve told me. I think.
Now a little more
So far, everything about Clyde Wilson checked out. The man had never even gotten a traffic ticket. That made me a tad suspicious. My God, who hadn’t gotten a ticket? Even my sainted mother, may she rest in peace, got a ticket when she crossed the double yellow line to avoid a double-parked truck.
Maybe Wilson was Mr. Perfect. Maura seemed to think so. I’d barely started the investigation and found nothing out of the ordinary. Still, some instinct urged me to dig deeper.
“Stop hiding behind your work.” Nick took the legal pad out of my hands, my pen leaving a long squiggle down the top sheet. “I want you to listen to me.”
I gazed up at him, wide-eyed. “Why? Do you have something important to say?”
“Quit trying to be a smart-ass.”
“Trying? I thought I was doing a pretty good job.” I pulled on the legal pad.
“I’m not playing tug-of-war with you.” After letting go of the pad, again he gripped the arms of my chair and turned me to face him. “I want you to listen and listen well. I couldn’t contact you because I was out of the country.”
“And you were in such a primitive place that they didn’t have telephone service. Here.” I stuck out my leg. “Pull the other one.”
With frustration in his expression, he said patiently, “Yes, there was phone service. My job prohibited me from contacting you or anyone else in the States.”
An earnest expression replaced his frustration. “Everything happened so fast I didn’t have time to talk to you before I left. I was given a solemn promise that you would be given . . . assurances. Obviously, that didn’t happen. I apologize. I promise someone will pay for what you went through.”
“So which job was this? The fake one for the State Department or your real job for some agency that doesn’t exist?”
She’s at it again. Alex O’Hara just can’t say no to a new investigation. What do a 45-year-old boyfriend, a deadbeat dad, and a teenage runaway have in common? All new cases. With no receptionist, phone and internet problems, and her own boyfriend in the wind, Alex has no idea how she’ll manage. But the question for the past three months is why did Nick disappear. Is this the end of O’Hara & Palzetti?