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Nora
LeDuc Reviews For MURDER CAME CALLING by Nora LeDuc “This is an exciting read with
lots of interesting characters and surprises for the reader. Talented
author Nora LeDuc has crafted something different in a mystery and you
will want to read her other books. I know I will. 4 Cups! “There is a massive blanket of bitterness and angst surrounding the characters in this story. They are so truly mired in pain, sadness, and anger that their hearts are laid wide open for the reader. Sam virtually vibrates with his struggle to control his temper, and at times Annie’s despair leaves her practically catatonic. The bends and twists of the plot are expertly woven to create a dynamic finish sure to please any mystery lover.” Lototy, Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More 4.75 out of 5 Hearts, Reviewer Top Pick “I felt the dialog and character development were amazing. The mystery spun out perfectly leaving clues here and there and keeping our hero and heroine in a state of flux. Murder Came Calling is one of the best romantic mysteries I've read in a long time. Kudos to the author!” Reviewed by Vee, Night owl Romance Reviews “Nora LeDuo’s ability to build such adrenaline-pumping suspense while nurturing an improbable love that steals into Annie and Sam’s hearts and refuses to be ignored or denied creates a fast-paced, emotionally charged story. Collectively, the characters in MURDER CAME CALLING commit every cardinal sin identified in medieval times (pride, envy, wrath, sloth, avarice, gluttony, and lust). MURDER CAME CALLING has some serious soul searching, but humor finds its way into events from time to time and the surprises near the end all make this an exciting story.” Camellia, Long And Short Reviews Sample Chapter For MURDER
CAME CALLING by Nora LeDuc
Boston, Massachusetts, July 19 Sam O’Brien had watched the blonde from the moment she’d pulled up in front of his apartment. Why had she stopped in this armpit of a neighborhood? Since he’d moved here, two months ago, no one with such an expensive vehicle had dared drive down his street. She was definitely hot-looking, about twenty-five, a youngster compared to his ripe old prison age of thirty. Her neat, classy style sharply contrasted with his cut-off jeans, yellowed T-shirt, and overgrown dark hair. She wasn’t here for him, but his body failed to recognize that fact. Excitement sizzled in his nerve endings and memories of pleasure threatened to cloud his mind. She must be lost. But when she focused all her attention on his building, his interest peaked into anger. He recognized her type. A reporter. Worse, a woman reporter. Fisting his hands, he cursed. He’d had enough of their hounding accusations. They’d surrounded his apartment and held him prisoner like a trapped animal, shouting, taunting him about a five-year-old murder. He stepped away from the coarse brown curtain, letting it fall across the window. Why weren’t they helping him find the true murderer? Years ago, the press had led the witch-hunt to convict him. Now, they blocked his efforts to find Jeanine’s true killer by running the old stories accusing him. The doorbell rang. Uncertain of his next move, Sam froze. When would these news people learn? All he wanted was to be left alone. After a moment he snapped into action. She wanted a story about a murderer. He’d give her one to make those cute little blond hairs stand on end. In three huge strides, he crossed the room with the sagging floral chair and couch. Pieces of fiber from the tattered tan carpet clung to his bare feet. He didn’t have time to brush them away. He threw back the two deadbolts and ripped open the door leading into the hall. In the back of his mind, he heard his prison counselor whisper, “Count to ten, walk away, and take deep breaths.” He shoved the worn-out words of anger management into a dark crevice in his mind. Furious, he marched through the dim and dusty entry. He unbolted and tore open the front door. Light poured inside. She jerked and blinked her eyes several times as though the gloom of the hall blinded her. Blue eyes. It figured. He was a sucker for blue eyes. She didn’t back away. In her little tan sandals she stood firm, unmoving. She was tall and slim. Next to his six feet, he judged her to be about five eight, with that girl-next-door look. She was more likely a barracuda. The freckles sprinkled across her nose added to her innocent appearance. He’d bet she used her looks to worm stories from people, like most attractive women did. She met his gaze. “Are you Mr. O’Brien—Samuel O’Brien?” She was a cool one. He heard it in her voice. He remained mute, fastening all his fury at the outside world on her. Scowling, he waited for her to retreat, leaving him alone and in peace. Instead, she squared her thin shoulders and offered a hand. “I’m Annie Townsend. James is my brother.” James? “I’ve nothing to say. Clear out.” A tremor shook her outstretched hand. Her blue eyes wavered with uncertainty. “Jim, Jimmy Townsend. He’s my brother.” “I’m warning you. If you want to—” The memory hit him. “Jimmy?” Is she lying to get me to talk to her? He scanned her features. Jimmy’s blue eyes stared back at him, and his blond hair framed her face. Did she have a dimple in her cheek when she smiled? Damn, he was acting like an idiot. What do I care? She wasn’t his date. He’d sworn off all women after doing time for the death of his cheating fiancée. She dropped her arm to her side. “Are you Sam? He spoke of you often.” “Jimmy who was in jail for dealing drugs? He was your brother?” She looked angelic. Jimmy looked rough and tough. Of course like the rest of the inmates, Jimmy proclaimed he was set up. He was just doing a favor for a friend when he sold a pound of marijuana to the undercover cop. She nodded. “You remember him, don’t you? I still think of him as my little brother although he’s grown.” Jimmy’s sister stood on his doorstep. Strange. “I remember him.” How could he forget a man who’d warned him Jake the Snake was sharpening his knife for a secret visit to his cell? “What happened? Did Jimmy OD?” “OD?” Her voice shook. “No, I hope not. I’m looking for him. I hoped you’d seen him or talked to him. I need to find him and he hasn’t been home for almost a month.” “Sorry, lady.” He began to close the door. “Annie. I’m Annie.” She leaped forward, wedging herself in the doorway. “It’s about my mother. I have to speak to him about her.” “Look, Lady Anne, I don’t know anything about your family. You have the wrong man if you’re expecting help from me. I can’t even help myself.” “You can.” She sounded like a cheerleader urging her team to victory, and she smiled her encouragement. He saw the dimple. Double damn. Careful, O’Brien, he cautioned himself. She wasn’t interested in a man like him. She was like all the rest, trying to use him. “Do you know who I am? Do you have the right address?” “You were Jimmy’s friend in prison. While you were in jail, you read every law book and orchestrated the reversal of your own conviction.” Her voice rose with excitement. Contagious excitement. He started to open the door wider before he realized what he was doing. He was falling all over the first woman who pretended he wasn’t the dirt beneath her feet. “I’ll tell Jim you dropped by—if I ever see him.” “I have to speak to him. It’s a matter of life and death.” “Is someone after him? Did he get in trouble again?” “I guess you haven’t read the papers or listened to the news.” She stepped back, staring into the empty hall like she was talking to someone standing behind him. “My mother, Althea Townsend, disappeared three weeks ago. All the local news agencies picked up the story.” “Yeah, well, I don’t listen to the news.” “I hoped my brother had heard from her.” Sam shook his head. She must be Jimmy’s sister. This family with disappearing members sounded as messed up as Jimmy. “Sorry, little sister. The last time I spoke to your brother was the day I left prison. He was supposed to get out the next week himself. Said he’d stop by and we’d...chat. He never showed up. Maybe the reporters who had my place surrounded like a bunch of terrorists scared him off.” “You’ve become famous. It’s not every day a man is declared innocent and set free.” “Yeah, well excuse me for not celebrating.” He started to slam the door, hoping she’d jump out of the way. She dodged inside. “I didn’t mean to offend you. But, please, you might know someone else who’s seen my brother. It’s my mother. I’m worried about her. She’s never disappeared like this before. Jimmy, yes, but not my mother.” Sam wondered if she’d pause for breath. She rambled on. “I have to know what happened to her. I’ve contacted everyone. Searched everywhere. I can’t find her. You’re my last hope.” “Thanks for the high praise,” he said, not meaning a word. “Did you try the heat?” He saw her blank look. “The police.” “The police? You recommend the police?” Sam shrugged. “The last time I called them, I was arrested and ended up in jail for five years. You might have better luck.” “The police have interviewed and contacted everyone. They can’t find her either.” “I’m not surprised. Now look, I’m busy. Like I tried to tell you before. If I run into your brother, I’ll send him straight to wherever you live.” “I’m living at home. I’ve taken a leave of absence from my job. Tell Jimmy I’m home.” “Sure.” He yanked the door open for her. Her shoulders slumped, her head tilted downward. “If you think of anyone who can help, call me. The number’s in the book, listed under my father, Andrew Townsend’s name.” She hesitated. Defeat. He recognized it in her eyes. Sam had seen it enough in prison. Like a sleepwalker, she stepped over the threshold. He shut the door. A strange feeling swept over him. He wanted to give her the name of someone who could help, change her expression to hope, and bring her inside. And do what? Comfort her? Tell her everything would work out? The truth was, nothing would work out. He’d dreamed for five years of freedom, but he’d learned the truth. Look at his life on the outside. He’d never fit in again. He might as well be in a cell. Still he couldn’t stop himself from peering at her out the window. * * * * Numb, Annie stood on the front step. Sam O’Brien had been her last chance. She’d counted on finding Jimmy through him. Think. Think. She had to hatch a new plan to find her mother, or she’d have to tell the police the truth. The ringing of her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. She pulled it out of her purse and glanced at the caller ID. Her father. Swallowing hard, she answered. “Hello.” “Anne, come home. Immediately.” “Did you find Jimmy?” she gasped into the receiver. “Mom?” Her father’s long pause punctured her bubble of hope. She slumped down on the stairs, and the words stuck to her dry mouth. “Which...which one?” “I’m afraid it’s your mother. The Major Crime Unit’s taken over.” He paused again. “I’m sorry, Anne. But we knew this was how it would end when no one could find her.” Sorry? End? My mother? Oh, God! “She’s dead? Was it an accident?” “The police have ruled the death as suspicious.” The phone dropped from her hand and clattered down the steps. Her mother was dead and never coming home. Murdered. She put her head between her knees. The pain in her chest ripped at her heart and the questions she couldn’t silence shouted at her. Did my father kill my mother? Is it all my fault? |