NEW RELEASES

* * * * * * * * 

NEW RELEASE FROM JENNIFER OBERTH:

New Ella Westin mystery - #6 in the series

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Smashwords

* * * * * * * *

RE-RELEASE FROM ELLIE OBERTH:

2nd Edition Published December 1, 2019

New Cover, New Publisher

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

Fun, light-hearted reads

Get them today!

Wanted: Dead or Deader - Finale

When McGill finally collected the cash, I headed over to their office. He locked the door behind me and opened a suitcase filled with bills. A soft whistle escaped my lips at the sight of all that dough. For a brief moment I was tempted, but the feeling passed. McGill zipped up the bag and handed it to me while he swore he’d acted as if it was business as usual when he amassed the ransom money. Most of Abner’s deals were cash transactions and he’d not raised any suspicions.

I’d rethought the whole setup and called a fellow detective to help. I’d hired him to babysit Dave McGill this evening until it was all over in case McGill had second thoughts about involving the police. I didn’t want to end up in jail for my part in the scam. My buddy arrived, and I introduced the two men.

McGill made no protest, but he leaned over and spoke in a low voice, “I checked you out, London. Hizzoner recommended you highly. He said you were trustworthy and discreet.”

So that’s why he trusted me. The personal issue I’d resolved for Mayor Daley a few years ago had paid off many times over. An intensively private person when it came to his family, the mayor didn’t want to involve any of his cronies or employees. So he hired an outsider (me) to take care of the problem. I’d solved his dilemma and kept my mouth shut which the mayor appreciated. In return, a few favors were thrown my way which I appreciated. With a smile on my lips, I hefted the suitcase and strode to my car.

****

It took more than an hour to drive to the Lincoln Avenue motel where Abner waited. I’d made sure to lose any tail that might’ve been following. Picking him up, we drove to Birmingham Harbor where he stashed the loot on his boat. I didn’t expect a double-cross since he’d written out a confession before I’d ever agreed to the plan (insurance). Instead, he played the part of kidnap victim perfectly when I reunited him with Dave McGill.

They kept the kidnapping quiet, so I never read about it in the newspapers. Abner and Renee divorced. The former Mrs. Carlyle’s settlement was much smaller than she’d originally expected since Abner’s fortune had been diminished by the half mil ransom. After the divorce was finalized, Abner retreated to recluse status. Ecstatic that we’d stopped Renee from cashing in on a huge payout, he coughed up a bonus of three thousand dollars for yours truly. And I promised Carlyle I’d never reveal his reprehensible scheme.

FOOTNOTE

November 1996

Did I feel guilty for my part in the scam? Nope. After all, if it wasn’t for my participation, Renee would be dead. Instead, she lived to marry again—actually three more times. Renee possessed money, but I don’t think she ever achieved true happiness. I attended her funeral two months ago (for some reason, Elisabeth thought it my duty to attend). Sad to say, her brother and I were the only mourners.

Be sure to check out my other stories...

Wanted - Dead or Deader - Part 4

With Abner safely tucked away in a sleazy motel on Lincoln Avenue, I reported back to my ex-wife and told her the ransom drop didn’t pan out. Nobody showed up, and there was no sign of her husband.

The lovely Renee wasn’t pleased. “They must’ve spotted you.”

“If they did, they saw no sign of their money and left. If you want him back alive, you’ll have to pay the ransom.”

Renee’s expression told me how she felt about that scenario which made me glad I’d forged a deal with her husband. Carlyle followed my plan and the next day another ransom letter arrived in the mail. This time it was delivered to Abner’s right hand man, Dave McGill. I’d planned to return to his place that day to guarantee my involvement in this caper, but he saved me the trip by rushing over to my office.

McGill confided he hadn’t believed my claims about his boss being kidnapped the other day. He’d thought Mrs. Carlyle was trying to pull a fast one. Now he demanded to know what I was going to do about the situation.

I recommended he take the note straight to the police. This horrified him. He pointed to the ransom demand and insisted the kidnappers would kill his boss if the authorities got involved.

That was great. I’d told Abner I’d bail immediately if the police were informed. The payoff wasn’t worth the risk; I had a wife and kid to think about.

McGill swore he’d make arrangements and gather together the half million.

“Can you raise that much dough?”

McGill assured me that Carlyle was a financial wizard, well worth twice that amount. I mentioned Renee and got a laugh. He claimed he wouldn’t need her cooperation. Abner’s assets were tied up in the business, and McGill didn’t need Carlyle’s wife’s agreement to pull money out. Smart man.

“Once Abner’s released, he’ll be able to rebuild his fortune. I’ve worked for him for seven years; the man’s a genius.”

Good to know. I revisited the option of police involvement. Satisfied that McGill was vehemently opposed to the idea, I let him leave my office to start assembling the payoff.

I kept in constant contact with McGill and Renee over the next couple of days. My ex wasn’t thrilled with the concept of parting with that amount of dough, but McGill was determined to buy Abner’s freedom. I had a cynical viewpoint on the matter. McGill’s motivation was easy to figure. If his boss died, McGill’s plum job disappeared. In contrast, Renee would be happier if the kidnappers were thwarted and Abner killed so she could inherit all his wealth.

So the only person financially affected by our ruse would be Renee. In case anyone ever wondered if my involvement was all about revenge—don’t forget, I’d saved her life. By foiling her husband’s plot to kill her and devising an alternate plan, Renee would live to snare hubby number six.

Be sure to check out my other stories...

Wanted Dead or Deader - Part 3

I visited Carlyle’s favorite haunts. Turned out the place he hung out the most was his own. I paid a visit to his house (mansion) on Astor Street. The maid let me in (what a step up from the first home Renee and I shared—a third floor walk-up in Roger’s Park). Renee was in residence (now she thinks she’s the Queen?) and after a brief argument (first one I ever won), I searched the place from top to bottom but found no clues to Abner’s whereabouts.

****

With a lack of fresh ideas, I scoped out the kidnapper’s meeting point. I arrived three hours early in order to check the area and figure out my options. The designated spot was in the middle of a secluded, wooded forest preserve near Belmont and Cumberland. Daylight was fading fast, and I imagined how dark this place was going to get. Perfect spot (for the kidnappers—not so great for me). Dense trees filtered out what was left of the sun’s rays, and I was glad I’d brought my flashlight. If I picked a good place to hide and watch, maybe I could catch a license plate when they arrived.

****

Three hours later, I’d have killed for a cold beer. My sweat-soaked black turtle neck constricted my breathing in the humid night air. So far, I hadn’t caught a glimpse of anything but a family of deer. I was ready to call it a night, but I’d promised Renee I’d find her husband, so I stuck it out alone in the dark. Just when I was determined to call it quits, I heard a rustling about a hundred yards to my right. Keeping the man’s silhouette in view at all times, I circled around and sneaked up behind him.

I called his name. Abner Carlyle spun around and raised his hands at the sight of my gun. (I’d had a hunch when I’d spotted those big old jug ears and rotund build in the dim moonlight).

“Abner,” I said. “It’s time for a talk.”

****

Seemed shortly after the wedding, the wealthy recluse had a change of heart. He’d married Renee in a foolish, lonely moment and regretted it ever since. Carlyle was reluctant to divorce her, since he didn’t relish paying out a huge settlement. So the man had planned a fake abduction and plotted to kill his wife when she arrived with the ransom. His idea was to accuse his phony kidnappers of murder. The police would never catch the fabricated criminals, and Carlyle figured he’d be free and clear.

What he didn’t count on was the lovely Renee Carlyle hiring a detective. He’d led such a solitary life, he didn’t realize a woman might not go it alone (especially a woman like Renee who never did anything she could get someone else to do for her).

I had a lot of sympathy for the guy (after all, I’d been married to Renee once) and that’s why I contrived a new plot.

Be sure to check out my other stories...

Wanted Dead or Deader - Part 2

Damned if Renee didn’t return just as I was thinking of closing up shop. Twice in one day. I liked it better when she pretended I didn’t exist. As her high heels clattered loudly on the floor, Jingo scrambled to his paws. He barked loud enough to wake the dead (no joke—I caught myself scanning the area for Abner just in case). My office was three hundred square feet of desk and dog. Renee sashayed in. She did her own scanning and frowned (I guess she’d expected me to have produced her husband already).

Opening her bag, Renee extracted an envelope. I read the contents and my eyebrows raised so high they touched my receding hairline. It was a ransom note cut from newspapers (very stereotypical). The kidnappers demanded a half million dollars for the safe return of one Abner Carlyle. Or else. They didn’t spell out what the “else” was, but I could guess. She steadfastly refused to call the cops.

After Renee swept out, I held the note up to Jingo’s nose to sniff. He released a great big doggy sneeze and rested his head on his paws. Seemed he was absent the day the obedience school trained them to follow a scent.

I was at a loss on how to proceed. She claimed she couldn’t get her hands on that much money. Renee wanted to fake paying the ransom. She spelled out a big scenario where I make the drop and follow the kidnappers back to their hideout and rescue dear old Abner. My ex-wife wanted me to play the hero—an unlikely role. I’m the first to admit that if she handed me a half million bucks, I’d be tempted to pack up my wife and kid (and Jingo) and board the first plane to Anywhere, USA. Maybe my ex wasn’t as stupid as I thought.

****

I drove home just in time for supper (Elisabeth was used to my erratic hours and never complained, but after Renee’s visits, I just wanted a normal evening). I decided not to tell Elisabeth the identity of my new client; she’d never say a word, but I knew she’d take a dim view of my involvement in Renee’s scheme. Marveling at the difference between my two wives, I considered myself a lucky, lucky man. Plucking the Hardy Boys book from Donny’s hands, we all sat down to eat. Then we watched a little bit of television before bedtime.

****

The following day, I ran around the city interviewing anyone I could find that knew Carlyle. Renee told me Abner was a quiet man with no real friends and this was verified when I talked to his business associates. It appeared that Abner Carlyle was a recluse. The three men I interviewed admitted they were surprised when Carlyle married Renee. He had no social life; no family or friends. Carlyle lived for his business deals. The trio hadn’t heard from Carlyle these last few days, but unless he had a deal in the works, that behavior was not unusual. Carlyle’s right hand man, Dave McGill, spouted a party line—Abner Carlyle was conducting business in a neighboring state. He expected to hear from him only if Carlyle closed a business deal.

Apparently, nobody but Renee realized that Abner had been kidnapped.

Be sure to check out my other stories...

Wanted Dead or Deader - Part 1

A later case in Grandpa Walt’s career (June 1975); it was particularly intriguing to me when I learned the identity of the client…

WANTED: DEAD… OR DEADER

I knew she was trouble the minute I saw her. But I was mesmerized by those baby blues and the legs that never quit. Call me stupid; I married the ball-buster. Several miserable years later—divorce. It was either that or murder. I took the coward’s way out and she ended up with the house, the car and the bank account. At least I kept the dog; she kicked us both out.

The years hadn’t touched her looks. She cha cha’d into my downtown Chicago office and I felt a familiar tingle even though twenty years had passed. Two decades since I’d laid eyes on her and she had the audacity to imagine I’d drop everything I was doing to come to her rescue. (She’d divorced me soon after I opened my own detective agency—too lowbrow for the lady).  Now Renee claimed she’d misplaced her brand new hubby and demanded I find him. Fat chance. He must’ve been a faster learner than yours truly; the lucky stiff got her number after only four months. Took me four years.

God help me, I took the case. Business had been slow recently, and I had a current wife and kid to support. Not to mention my latest dog, Jingo. Pure bred basset hound (what other kind of dog is fit for a private eye? I had adopted Jingo five years ago after the death of Barnaby—the Boston Terrier that Renee and I had owned during our marriage). Before she waltzed out, Renee handed over a picture of the guy. Turned out he was hubby number five. (She’d tied Elizabeth Taylor in the marriage department. Renee must’ve made a killing with all the divorce settlements). So I took her case and her money. Call me a fool (in case you haven’t noticed, I call myself a lot of things); I agreed to look into the matter.

I spent all day checking out the man. Abner Jerome Carlyle. Sixty years old and ugly as sin. Alfred E. Neuman ears, sumo wrestler’s body and Marty Feldman eyes. (Look it up if you don’t get the references.) I bet he avoided mirrors like a vampire avoided garlic. She could only have married him for one reason—money (though personally I don’t think there’s enough dough in the world to face that mug across the breakfast table every morning). Ex-husbands one through four apparently hadn’t signed over enough assets to keep her in the lifestyle she’d become accustomed to.

Enter Abner Carlyle, real estate tycoon. Into everything you could imagine and then some. I did some digging and found out Abner’s net worth. Now I understood the real problem—Abner missing was worth zero payout to the new Mrs. Carlyle. Dead, Renee would never have to lift a finger ever again. And I do mean ever. She didn’t want me to find the man; she wanted me to find his body.

Be sure to check out my other stories...

Serialization

I'm posting one of my short stories in serial form. 

The title is: Wanted - Dead or Deader

Here's the prologue:

These are the reports of a most interesting man—Walter London, Private Investigator. His was a one-man operation from start to finish, with a career that spanned four decades. When he passed away, there was no one to carry on, so the firm closed.

Grandma Elisabeth cared for him throughout his last illness. After he passed, she must’ve felt her duty was over because she joined him three months later.

We discovered all his case notes sealed in boxes in the basement when Dad and I cleared out the house. Grandpa had kept meticulous records. No dry details in his reports, no pesky record of times and locations. Instead he’d written in a sarcastic yet laid-back style. A very private person, Grandpa Walt never violated a client’s trust.

Reading through his reports, I learned a lot about my grandfather and decided to share some of the more tantalizing cases rather than have them lost forever. The players in these stories are either dead and gone; or I’ve changed their names.

Respectfully submitted,

Jane London Munroe

Be sure to check out my other stories...

Queen's Quest

Published August 27, 2017,

this is the 5th book in the 

Ella Westin series...

Available through 

Smashwords

and

Amazon

99 cents

Cover Reveal

I'm thrilled with the cover for my book.

The publication date isn't set yet -

but it will be released in 2017.

Who Murdered The Snowman?

Something I've always wanted to do

I walk into my daughter's house and tell her I want to kill my granddaughters' snowman. She readily agrees and my son-in-law walks out with a butcher knife-no questions asked. And my other daughter takes pictures for me. Do I have a cool family or what?

A side note - as I was constructing the 'scene', a neighbor appeared in the adjacent yard. He sure got an eyeful!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go take care of that witness...

Just to get in the mood for the holidays, here's a repost of my Who Murdered...? series poem:

HAZEL CARTBELL’S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,

The killer was creeping, as quiet as a mouse.

With a gun in his hand and his eyes on the prize,

Who he was after, I could only surmise.

The killer moved quickly, he searched for his goal,

The house was as dark as Victor Kendall’s black soul.

I inched my way slowly, to keep him in sight,

But he stayed in the shadows, as dark as the night.

I grew cold and tired, my brain started to roam,

And I thought of the townsfolk, all warm in their home.

I pictured Mama Bella in her restaurant,

Waiting on her customers to see what they want.

And then in a twinkling, my thoughts started to drift,

To my brother, Sebastian, who always seemed miffed.

Two years my junior, he still acted like a child,

I try not to judge him, without getting riled.

Or the chief’s son, Robbie, a student in college,

He’s studying hard to expand his knowledge.

He’s got a crush on our pretty dispatcher,

Robbie won’t give up hope, thinking he’ll catch her.

Sister Marie Catherine, the old-school nun,

So strict and somber, does she ever have fun?

As I visualized Sister, praying in church,

There came a loud noise and my heart gave a lurch.

There out on the street, a car rolled to a stop,

And Donovan emerged, our new rookie cop.

With a huff and a puff, he raced up beside me.

Did the recruit think I would need him to guide me?

The heavens released a fresh dusting of snow,

The rookie grew restless, but we had to keep low.

I kept my eyes peeled and let my grip loosen,

A wonderful sight, here comes Chief Rasmussen.

My heart filled with joy as I watched him draw near,

Would the chief never notice me, was my worst fear.

He strode to the door and called in a firm voice,

Come out with your hands up, you don’t have a choice.

I watched him with pride, this man was my hero,

Just like Poirot and that Wolfe they call Nero.

As the bad guy obeyed and marched onto the porch,

I knew as long as I lived, I would carry this torch!

ANNOUNCING THE RELEASE OF:

A FRENZIED BID FOR MURDER

Meet Venice Sinclair in her first mystery novel...

Henderson, Nevada resident, Venice Sinclair enjoys bargain hunting at storage locker auctions with her best friend, Tanya. Unloading the units and sifting through their contents make her feel like she’s on a treasure hunt.

Being the highest bidder, Venice Sinclair discovers personal journals in a strange locker. Curiosity prevails and she soon finds herself drawn into the dramatic tales revealed in the diaries. Getting more than she bargained for, Venice uncovers disturbing hints about a dangerous crime.  Murder...

Venice’s strong sense of justice leads her to delve deeper into the former owner’s silent cries for justice. Searching for hidden meaning in the coded entries, she receives help from Tanya’s daughter—precocious, eleven-year-old Grace.

Each tantalizing clue presents more questions than answers. What happened to the journal writer? Who is the dead girl discussed in the diary? Can they identity the nefarious boyfriend? And where is the body?

Released through Oak Tree Press

My novel is being released soon...

I'm very excited to announce I signed a contract with Oak Tree Press to publish my novel - A Frenzied Bid For Murder.

Widowed eight years ago, Venice Sinclair is now an empty nester. Her only child - Catalina - is attending school in England.

Venice attends storage auctions with her best friend, Tanya. When they discover journals in a storage unit, Venice takes them home to read. Murder is hinted at, maybe committed by the unknown journalist's own boyfriend.

Venice is determined to untangle the clues and find a body in order for justice to prevail.

Don't miss out!

Grab your free copy of 

MARRIED TO MURDER

The soon-to-be Mrs. Ella Westin doesn't remember adding 'solve a murder' to her bridal to-do list, but when she stumbles over the dead body of her matron of honor, it looks like she'll have no choice. Can she catch the killer before the wedding is called off? Or will she be Married to Murder?

Available at SMASHWORDS

(Just enter the code: SW100

at checkout)

ELLA WESTIN SHORT STORIES

CHECK OUT THIS NEW RELEASE BY JENNIFER OBERTH

IT'S FREE !!

Click here for download

It's a collection of three short, short stories featuring Ella Westin and her father-in-law, Jasper Westin.

They're an introduction to her characters.  And they're a fun bonus read if you've already read her published stories:

Married To Murder

Honeymoon Homicide

Toxic Train

Check out Jennifer's blog here.

FORENSIC CHRISTMAS

It's a forensic-themed Christmas for mystery writers, Ellie Oberth & Jennifer Oberth

Nothing says Merry Christmas like a forensic tree!

HAZEL CARTBELL’S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,

The killer was creeping, as quiet as a mouse.

With a gun in his hand and his eyes on the prize,

Who he was after, I could only surmise.

The killer moved quickly, he searched for his goal,

The house was as dark as Victor Kendall’s black soul.

I inched my way slowly, to keep him in sight,

But he stayed in the shadows, as dark as the night.

I grew cold and tired, my brain started to roam,

And I thought of the townsfolk, all warm in their home.

I pictured Mama Bella in her restaurant,

Waiting on her customers to see what they want.

And then in a twinkling, my thoughts started to drift,

To my brother, Sebastian, who always seemed miffed.

Two years my junior, he still acted like a child,

I try not to judge him, without getting riled.

Or the chief’s son, Robbie, a student in college,

He’s studying hard to expand his knowledge.

He’s got a crush on our pretty dispatcher,

Robbie won’t give up hope, thinking he’ll catch her.

Sister Marie Catherine, the old-school nun,

So strict and somber, does she ever have fun?

I can visualize Sister, praying in church,

Then I heard a loud noise and my heart gave a lurch.

There out on the street, a car rolled to a stop,

And Donovan emerged, our new rookie cop.

With a huff and a puff, he raced up beside me.

Did the recruit think I would need him to guide me?

The heavens released a fresh dusting of snow,

The rookie grew restless, but we had to keep low.

I kept my eyes peeled and let my grip loosen,

A wonderful sight, here comes Chief Rasmussen.

My heart filled with joy as I watched him draw near,

Would the chief never notice me, was my worst fear.

He strode to the door and called in a firm voice,

Come out with your hands up, you don’t have a choice.

I watched him with pride, this man was my hero,

Just like Poirot and that Wolfe they called Nero.

As the bad guy obeyed and marched onto the porch,

I knew as long as I lived, I would carry this torch!

In honor of my short story Who Murdered...? series

POISON

INSTEAD OF KISSING THE BLARNEY STONE...

I WANDERED THROUGH BLARNEY CASTLE'S

POISON GARDEN!!