The Apothecary's Demise by Ann Sloan

The Apothecary’s Demise is the follow-up novel to Ann Sloan’s Murder on the Boulevard set in pre-World War I Houston. The devastating hurricane that destroyed Galveston thirteen years prior is still fresh on everyone’s mind and Woodrow Wilson is in the White House. Flora Logan, young and head-strong, is heavily involved in the Suffragists’ Movement.

Five years after the events in Murder on the Boulevard, Flora is now running the marble business that she inherited from her father and is working to fulfill the contract to supply marble for the new Rice Hotel, which is set to be a landmark building for its time. She is surprised when a woman approaches her during a Suffragist luncheon and asks her to look into the death of her son, Dr. Henri Mozelle, a local pharmacist. The police have ruled his death as suicide but his mother suspects foul play, in the person of her brand new daughter-in-law.

Flora doesn’t want anything to do with the pharmacist’s suspicious demise but when her housekeeper’s son’s girlfriend, who worked for Dr. Mozelle, disappears, Flora feels she has no choice but to investigate. Besides, she can’t resist a good mystery.

Dr. Mozelle’s mother is convinced that her son’s wife is responsible for his death but soon after the daughter-in-law dies under strange circumstances.

Then much to her chagrin, Flora discovers that she’s not as independent and forward-thinking as she thought she was. Webb Walker, the handsome and dashing partner of the deceased apothecary sweeps her off of her feet, no matter how hard she tries to resist his charms. She realizes she isn’t any less susceptible to a man than the silly women she’s trying to help liberate. Her steady beau, Max Andrews left for New York on a business trip without getting an answer from her to his proposal. Flora finds herself torn between the mysterious, suave Walker and the proper gentleman Andrews.

But the solution to the murders comes from a source that Flora doesn’t expect. Nor does the reader. It’s not an out-of-the-blue answer to the puzzle, but very near to it.

Sloan has done an amazing amount of research on the history of Houston and the activities and events happening in 1913. She does a great job of incorporating those facts into the story as a backdrop to the murder. However, there are many places where the conversations sound encyclopedic and stilted rather than casual talk. It’s interesting to learn what issues the citizens of Houston were facing, debating and addressing, but not in such a ‘teachy’ manner.

Otherwise, Sloan gives the reader a nice cozy mystery with a likeable main character and supporting cast in The Apothecary’s Demise. It’s not just for Houstonians.

Just One Look by Harlan Coben

Wow! This is the first book I’ve read by Harlan Coben and it had more twists than a braiding booth at renaissance faire. People Magazine touts on the back cover that the “only plausible reason for setting this book down is to make sure your front door is locked and double-bolted”. Another valid reason is if you stay up so late reading it that you’re dozing off in your chair. Not that I ever did that. Certainly not twice.

But Just One Look has enough energy and action to keep your pulse racing no matter the time of day or night. I’ve never read a book that kept the twists coming up to the last page.

Grace Lawson is a happily married suburban housewife, with two kids, minivan, idyllic neighborhood. When she picks up a roll of picture developed at a Photomart, she finds an old photograph that looks as if it was taken at least fifteen years prior. The strange thing about the photo is that one of the people in it is her husband. One of the others, a girl, has her face crossed out.

After she shows it to her husband that evening, he drives off in their minivan and disappears with the photo.

As she delves into the mystery, she finds her own past becoming entwined with her present dilemma. Fifteen years ago, Grace was nearly killed in a stampede at a rock concert in Boston. The tragedy shook the nation and Grace became the face of the victims. The media followed her recovery and the trial and conviction of the man accused of firing the shots that instigated the panic. Those ghosts reappear as she investigates her husband’s vanishing.

Coben has an amazing knack to spin several seemingly unrelated stories and tie them all together to one event, the whole crux of the mystery.

I found this to be an exciting, fast-paced page turner of an action thriller. It moves at a breath-taking speed and has surprises on every page.

The Memoirs of Catherine the Great

It’s hard to critique the memoirs of someone who was never purported to be an author or writer. And certainly not those of a person that probably didn’t expect those memoirs to be read more than three hundred years later.

The Memoirs of Catherine the Great, first of all, is a slight misnomer. She wrote three memoirs total during her life and this book is only the first, written during the time from her arrival at the Russian court in 1744 to 1759, which is prior to the death of Empress Elizabeth. The other two are most likely published under different titles.

Secondly, this is not for the casual reader. Although full of intrigue and subterfuge in the Russian court, the names of all the couriers, envoys and members of the royal family are difficult to keep track of. Catherine writes of them as though everyone is already familiar with who’s who at court. But it’s no wonder that Russian historians would find this fascinating. The nearly seventy page preface is a dissertation on Catherine’s memoirs (all three) by the translator/authors Mark Cruse and Hilde Hoogenboom.

The years in which Catherine was married to Peter Fedorovich and before the Empress’ death, her Imperial Majesty Elizabeth kept her distance from the Grand Duke and Duchess, to the point that their children were taken from Catherine to be raised by the Empress’ courtiers. As a result, there is very little of Russian politics in this first memoir. There are passing mentions of conflicts and wars but little details except for a particularly bloody battle that ended in a massacre for both Russia and Prussia.

Catherine writes of her mother, who turned cold and alienated her after first arriving in Russia to become betrothed to Peter. After the marriage, she describes the growing estrangement between her and the Grand Duke. There is continued animosity from the Empress towards Catherine throughout the first memoir until the very end when Catherine begs the Empress to let her return home and end her miserable stay in Russia. Only then does her Imperial Majesty soften in her tone towards the Grand Duchess.

Catherine claims that she never acted in any way that would cause these three people to behave in such a rude manner toward her. Of course, we only have Catherine’s word on that, which can be considered with a grain of salt. One would have to see all sides of the argument to understand what the real environment was like. She does, however, talk about how she treated certain members of the court, who mistreated or acted poorly toward her, with disdain, spreading gossip about them and snubbing them at every opportunity. She may have scoffed at the games the courtiers played but she wasn’t above playing them herself.

Although this book was a hard read, it still offers a great glimpse into the world of the Russian court. I’d be very interested in reading her memoirs where she stages her famous coup. That should make great reading.

Murder at the Green Lantern - Book Signing!

Come join me at the Green Lantern Bar in Washington, DC June 12, 2010 after the Pride Parade. I'll be signing my latest release "Murder at the Green Lantern" available now at Amazon.com.

Leash of Faith released by loveyoudivine Alterotica on April 2!

Brian lives according the tenets of duty, submission and brotherly love. But not exactly in the way his parishioners expect from their pastor...

Buy it today from Amazon.com!

http://www.amazon.com/Leash-of-Faith-ebook/dp/B003F778VE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1270429182&sr=1-1

Blurb:

Brian is the new, energetic and popular pastor of a church in southern Louisiana. His elderly parishioners dote on him as if he were one of their grandchildren. What’s the problem? He’s gay and so far into the closet that the skeletons are complaining of over-crowding. And he has a slave boy whom he has to keep secret. That’s not so easy in a small town where everyone knows everybody else. And the parishioners are used to their pastors having an open door policy! How can the Master Pastor maintain his lifestyle in a such a close-knit community and not get run out of town?


Excerpt:
Darkness had fallen by the time he arrived at the state park, one they had frequented before. He paid the overnight fee to the ranger at the gate and found to his delight their favorite campsite was unoccupied. Not only that, but since it was a Sunday night, the park wasn’t busy and no one was too close to their site.
Brian heard the chirping of crickets, croaking of frogs and other night noises as he got out of the car. There were low sounds from the other campers as well. He went through the motions of setting up camp by erecting the tent and unpacking ice chests. He backed the car into the site such that the trunk faced the woods that surrounded the camping area. When he was satisfied that everything was in place, he popped open the trunk. Jody lay there in the darkness, smiling up at him with his eyes. The ball gag made it difficult to make many facial expressions. Brian threw him over his shoulder and walked a short distance into the trees, just a few yards from the campsite.
“Ah, here’s our favorite tree, slave,” Brian said, setting Jody on his feet and propping him against the trunk. The tree was dead but still had a sturdy trunk, with its branches and twigs reaching into the night, crooked and twisted like pubic hairs after being washed and blow-dried.
“You’re such a hopeless romantic, Master,” Jody said when Brian removed the gag. Pastor Brian retied Jody to the tree with his feet several inches off the ground.
“You were awesome today,” Brian said looking up at him.
“If I may say so, sir, you were a little rude to Vera White this afternoon.”
“That old biddy comes in right when I had you on the table, so deep inside you my dick was pressing against your Adam’s apple. The Lord will forgive me if I was a bit testy.”
Jody chuckled. “Your testes not withstanding, I think calling her a cadaverous old prune who could call Methuselah ‘sonny’ was a little too much.”
“At least, I focused on her good points.”
“Master.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll apologize and give her a double portion of wine at communion next Sunday. Anyway, you were good today, too.” Brian’s voice softened. “And I promised you a reward.” He leaned over and tickled the head of Jody’s cock with his tongue. At once, it rose to life and pointed at Brian, begging to be used. Brian swallowed him whole.
Jody let out a loud moan of ecstasy, then clamped his mouth shut. If he made too much noise, he could potentially alert the other campers, who might come to investigate. Pastor Brian could always hide in the trees, leaving him to explain his compromising position. But the fear of discovery just added to the sense of excitement and arousal of outdoor bondage and sex in the open.
He bit his lip, only allowing a soft grunt to be heard. However, Master was making it difficult to be quiet. The tip of his tongue ran up and down his shaft, to his balls. Jody felt the head of his cock press against the back of Brian’s throat.
That sensation of pleasure was all it took to ignite his climax. With a low growl emitted through clenched teeth, he came with such force he felt like a fire hose. Brian kept his mouth firmly clamped around his dick until he was completely drained.
Sweat ran down Jody’s temples, chest and spine. “Thank you, sir,” he panted.
Brian stepped back with a smile. “My pleasure.”
“Did you bring the bug spray? I feel mosquitoes.”
“Duh,” Brian said. “Do you think I’m forgetful?” He produced a small bottle with a spray nozzle from his back pocket with a flourish. He sprayed Jody’s cock and balls until liquid dripped from them.
“That’s great, sir, but that isn’t the only part they’re biting.”
“I know but right now this is your most vulnerable area,” Brian said with importance. “If one mosquito taps a vein there, she’ll explode and you could bleed to death.”
“You’re so smart, Master,” Jody said, chuckling.
Brian gave him a grin that was visible even in the gloom. He sprayed more insect repellant on his feet and was working his way up Jody’s legs when the bottle ran dry. “Crap. I need to grab some more. Be right back so don’t go away.” He laughed at his joke as he ran back toward the car. As he reached the campsite, a voice from another camper called out to him.
“Pastor? We thought we recognized your car.”

Murder at the Green Lantern released April 23

Murder at the Green Lantern, the second mystery featuring paranormal gay sleuth Corey Shaw will be released by loveyoudivine Alterotica on April 23!

Blurb:

After a fetish party at a gay bar in Washington, DC, a young man is murdered and left nailed to a St. Andrew’s Cross. Paranormal gay sleuth Corey Shaw thinks someone has passed a divine judgment on him, and may be a signal to other gays in the city. The mystery leads him on a trail from Boston to the halls of the U.S. Capitol Building in DC.

Excerpt:

As he looked into the room beyond, his breath caught in his throat at the horrific scene just a few feet inside the glass. The young man nailed to the St. Andrew’s cross was naked and blood from a huge gash in his throat drenched the lean muscular body. Nails had been driven through this wrists and feet, which were also bloodied. Corey sickened at the sight of the poor soul.
“We’re calling the night crew to see if they saw or heard anything when they closed,” the detective said when Corey returned to the first floor. “Maybe someone remembers him from last night.”
“I saw him.”
Detective Nash whirled around on him. “You did?”
“For a while,” he answered. “I remember him very well. He was flirting with everyone, including me. Asking for drinks and suggesting that he may reciprocate, if you get my drift.” That memory now seemed to be years ago and the fresh face of the young man was a stark contrast to the ghostly white specter he just saw.
“Not really.”
“Buy him a drink and he may go home with you.” Corey turned to face the detective squarely in the eyes. He understood. This was no mere wallflower. The victim made himself an easy target. If he teased someone and then rejected him, that could provoke a murderous ire in some people.
“Did you buy him a drink?”
Corey glanced at him sharply. That was an inappropriate remark from one law enforcement officer to another. But the detective’s expression showed Corey that he meant no disrespect. Just curiosity. Or was it something else? His earlier question about the Psionic Corps’ interest in the case hinted that he may have misgivings about Corey’s paranormal abilities.
That’s it, Corey thought. Since by his own admission at being at the scene of a crime shortly before it occurred, the detective considered him to be a suspect. He was not offended, because he would be suspicious if the positions were reversed.
“He was so plastered by the time he made it to me, he could barely stand up. I’m not picking up a drunk no matter how cute he is.” Corey spoke matter-of-factly so Nash could get the point. He could tell by the slight change in the detective’s posture and the tone of his voice, Corey thought he did. Even after his stout denial, he didn’t look placated. “But plenty of other guys did.”
“If he was so drunk, why didn’t you offer to take him home instead of having him drive?” Detective Nash asked in a mean voice.
“I’m not a taxi service, detective. He wasn’t showing any indication he wanted to leave, certainly not unaccompanied. I knew he’d find a ride. In more ways than one.”
“Maybe he did but with the wrong person,” Nash grumbled.
Now he’s shifting his anger and judgment to the victim, Corey thought. “He may not have found someone at all.”
“I doubt if they would’ve closed up if there were still customers in the bar, so he must’ve left with someone, who brought him back here and murdered him.”

“It’s too soon to be jumping to conclusions like that,” Corey said, surprised that Nash made the comment.
“So you think it wasn't someone here at the Green Lantern?” the detective snapped.
“I'm just saying we can't limit our search to the guys that were here last night, detective.” Corey responded.
The interrogation of Chauncey was finished and he stood behind the bar as Corey approached. He hurried over, extending his hand. “Hi, I’m Chauncey Avant the manager of the Green Lantern. Did I see you here last night?”
Corey introduced himself and Chauncey’s eyes grew wide in surprise when he heard the Psionic Officer title.
“Do you recognize the victim?”
Chauncey shook his head. “I didn’t see his face.” He shuddered at the recollection. “As soon as I saw…him, I ran out of the room and dialed 911.”
“Remember the skinny twink wearing only red gym shorts and the Celtic knot work tattoo around his right bicep?”
Chauncey searched his memory. “You mean Aiden?”
“Maybe. He didn’t introduce himself to me. Are there many other guys that come in here dressed like that with that tattoo?” Corey gave him a minute.
“It’s gotta be him then.” The manager choked a little as he lowered his head.
“I take it he was a regular?”
“Almost every weekend.” Chauncey pulled himself together. He wasn’t trembling any more.
“Did you know him well?”
“Not outside of the Green Lantern. I only knew him as Aiden. I’m sure there are plenty of guys that know him better.”
Of that, I have no doubt, Corey mused. “I noticed that he was very popular.” He emphasized the last word with raised eyebrows.
“If you mean ‘slut’, yes. He was always bragging about how many men he slept with,” Chauncey said sneering. “I don’t think he ever brought money with him. He always wore those skimpy shorts that obviously didn’t have a place for his wallet. He could get anyone to pay for his drinks. All he’d do is rub that flat stomach and his crotch up against them and he got what he wanted.”
“Did he ever return the favor? Like he intimated to me?” Corey wasn’t ready to admit he almost fell for Aiden’s game.
Chauncey brushed some imaginary crumbs off the bar. “Yes and no. Aiden liked to tease the older guys, the uglier ones, the ones he thought didn’t have a chance in hell of getting picked up. He’d make them think they could take him home, but usually he went after the young, good-looking guys. The muscular, beefy men. Those were the ones he left with.”

A Moorland Hanging by Michael Jecks

One reason I like reading historical mysteries is that I always seem to learn something new about life in different eras and far away places. Michael Jecks's A Moorland Hanging, the third in his series featuring Bailiff Simon Puttick and former Templar knight Sir Baldwin Furnshill, centers around England's tin mining industry in the early fourteenth century. Monarchs had granted miners special privileges during medieval times, giving them a broad range of freedoms. This leeway forms the basis of the mystery in A Moorland Hanging.

When a miner is found hanged from a tree, it is soon discovered that he is an escaped villein from the local knight's service and has found refuge in the safety of the King's rules protecting tin miners. Was his murder an act of retribution by the knight Sir William or his sons? Or could he have run afoul of Thomas Smyth, the most powerful miner in the area who's strong-arming others into leaving, giving him more control and more wealth?

Simon and Baldwin have a very daunting task. Everyone near the victim has secrets and does not trust anyone else. Not even the bailiff and his friend, the Templar knight, whose ideals are usually considered above reproach.

Confounding the mystery is the favoritism shown to the victim Peter Bruther by Smyth. Simon and Baldwin discover that Bruther enjoyed unusual immunity from Smyth and his bullies who used heavy-handed techniques and assault to clear out other miners unwanted by him.

Sir William's sons, Robert and John feud among each other as well. Robert as the oldest is the heir to the manor and all its lands. This understandably stirs up resentment in the younger brother, John who has been gone for several years training to become a knight. Robert thinks Joh is brash, wild and immature. John thinks Robert is soft, spineless and does not have what it takes to keep villeins in line and from disgracing the family name.

Jecks describes early fourteenth century England with stark vividness. He can easily give the reader a clear image of the moors, the Beauscyr Manor and the stuffiness of an English summer; the hardships of the tin miners as they struggle to eke out a living off of the very-often harsh land; and the political environment of the current ruler. He illustrates this backdrop with the hierarchy and stations of Edward II's subjects and their opinions of him.

This culture is fascinating and brought to life by Jecks's able story-telling. A Moorland Hanging is a complex mystery that keeps the reader guessing until the last page.