The Murderous Type
by Sue Minix
(London: Avon, 2023)
Once a stagecoach rest stop halfway between Blackburn and Sutton, Riddleton had grown when engineers built the dam to create Lake Dester. It remained a small town, though, rife with the typical small-town mentality. Everyone knew everything about everyone else, and help during troubled times was never more than an arm’s length away.
Pages 1-2.
Nothing like puppies and babies to grab attention. Most people were suckers for the young and the helpless.
Page 4.
The items available for bids possessed little monetary value, but the social status achieved by the highest bidder would turn some egoist into this year’s whale in a puddle.
Page 19.
As I stabbed my first asparagus spear, a scream split the air. Anne-Marie Vick stood with her hands fastened to her ears. My chair flipped as I jumped up. Chief Vick twitched and jerked on the floor. Saliva foamed out of his mouth, and blood and vomit pooled beside his head.
Page 24.
They transported him to the ambulance, a stretcher wheel crying out for a splash of WD-40.
Page 25.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 29.
He was an irritating, irascible man, but if that was a motive for murder, few men over fifty would still be alive.
Page 33.
All the plates remained where the occupants had abandoned them in the ruckus. However, the glasses, and the wine bottle, had disappeared.
Page 34.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 36.
Investigations were too time-consuming, too dangerous, and I had too much to lose.
Page 37.
We’d established our morning routine by the time the pup had lived with me for two weeks.
Page 37.
Red herring was my favorite dish.
Page 39.
Time for another sibling squabble. My favorite part to write. I guess because I never had sibling s to squabble with.
Page 40.
“Who knows what goes on in someone else’s marriage.”
Page 48.
Jealousy was one of the top three motives for homicide.
Page 55.
Amazing what a murder could do to kick people into motion.
Page 57.
The inquisitive part of me, eager to take on the challenge of another mystery, battled my pragmatic side.
Page 63.
Interfering might land me in jail. Particularly with Havermayer in charge. But how could I allow them to accuse my friend of a murder he didn’t commit? I’d walked in those shoes, and they’re way too tight. No way I could justify staying out of it now. The heck with Olinski and Havermayer. My friend’s future was at stake. Eric seemed content to leave his fate to the whims of others, so why not mine?
Page 73.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 88.
Tomorrow night Angus would phone the station at closing time and report a suspicious person outside the diner. According to Eric, the patrol car would be at the farthest point in its route, so the sergeant would be required to respond. I’d hide, in the bookstore with Eric’s key in my pocket, ready to roll as soon as the place was empty. Then sneak in, do what I had to, and escape while Angus kept the sergeant busy. Piece of cake.
Page 97.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 99.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 103.
Ruth was a shrewd little devil. She had the answer but expected me to figure out what to do for myself.
Page 104.
I’d never been one to religiously follow the rules. But there was a big difference between breaking the rules and breaking the law. A big difference in the consequences, too.
Page 108.
Aletha had believed the key to success was through the children. Bring the youngsters in, and their parents would follow.
Page 109.
Whoever said, “True beauty is on the inside,” had never witnessed an autopsy.
Page 120.
“Customers seem to like places where other people already are.”
Page 124.
As the seconds ticked closer to D-hour, it felt like ants had invaded my body. I paced, sat down, jumped up, and paced some more.
Page 125.
My trip to the police station tonight might end up being my downfall.
Page 125.
Too many people with motives, and no way to rule anyone out without more information. Perhaps the “how” would lead me to the “who.” How did the chief ingest the cyanide?
Page 126.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 129.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 132.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 134.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 137.
Eric wasn’t my type. A tall, skinny redhead. Except I hadn’t had much luck with the men who were my type. Perhaps, I needed to rethink that concept. What was a type, anyway?
Page 145.
Knowing what I should do and actually dong it were two different things.
Page 145.
Better to go with the obvious choice until I ruled it out.
Page 148.
A tired dog is a happy dog.
Page 151.
As usual, everyone was hard at work but me.
Page 152.
“People who want to cover up a homicide don’t always think clearly. Sometimes they do reckless things.”
Page 155.
My bookstore ran like an ant colony. Everyone had their jobs.
Page 157.
Time to confront another dishonest man. Could any of them be trusted?
Pages 160-161.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 161.
How did someone enter a secure room, open a locked closet leaving no sign of a break-in, and steal a needle and syringe out of a sealed box? Then possibly use them to inject cyanide into a wine bottle to poison the chief of police.
Page 166.
“You can’t give up on love, though. What kind of life can you have without it?”
“The peaceful kind?”
Page 172.
I could be creative or quick, but not both.
Page 188.
The worst part was what he said during those rants. The belittling. The insults. I hated him not only for what he did but for how he made me feel about myself.
Page 190.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 193.
It was better for me to take charge of the situation.
Page 206.
My Dart stood nose down. The seat belt constricted my chest and my breath hitched in shallow gasps. My airbag-battered face collected the rush of blood squeezed from my body. I had to free myself before I passed out.
Page 209.
A purple stripe ran from my left shoulder to my right hip, connected to another running right to left from the lap belt. Seat belts may save lives, but they don’t do much for curb appeal in the aftermath.
Page 227.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 233.
What I’d assumed was a random mass of pine needles turned out to be much more. Beneath Savannah’s probing nose was a human hand with an ink needle clutched in the fingers.
Page 248.
Some people were just too easy to mess with.
Page 251.
Leonard approached each situation as a potential threat, which sucked the energy out of his soul.
Page 251.
Insinuation and innuendo were often more effective than truth.
Page 255.
My face had returned to almost normal with only a hint of residual inflammation, and my blackened eyes had faded to purple. I’d progressed from the walking dead to the walking wounded.
Page 262.
Savannah strained at her leash, excited for a rematch with the squirrel.
Page 262.
Friends? Yeah, I had those now.
Page 265.
Brittany had always been the only friend I could tolerate or who could tolerate me. My life had changed, and strangely enough, I didn’t mind.
Page 266.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 267.
Pain later won out over pain now.
Page 269.
It’s not like I wanted to be in the middle of these things but I somehow managed to find myself there anyway. Why? My mystery writer’s curiosity, perhaps. It might also be coincidence, but I didn’t believe in coincidences. Especially when murder was involved. Chalk it up to bad luck.
Page 272.
There was no way I was going to stay out of it after being run off the road.
Page 274.
When I was a teenager, my mother told me I should always keep my dates waiting. Make sure they understood I was in control.
Page 274.
Large malls were great places to collect characters, but sensory overload encouraged me to keep my trips to a minimum.
Page 281.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 285.
Finding the proof was nonnegotiable.
Page 288.
A throat cleared a few feet away. I looked up.
Leonard smiled at me, his service weapon pointed at my head. He held out the other hand. “I’ll take that phone, now.”
Page 291.
“You always have to be a smartass, don’t you, Jen? I can’t imagine what Eric sees in you. … Then again, he’s an ass, too. Maybe you two deserve each other.”
Page 292.
The Partridge clan was still in the moonshine business, only supersized.
Page 295.
I grabbed a small, short file off the board behind me and stuck it in my back pocket. No idea if I’d be able to reach to tool when I needed to, but just its presence gave me some comfort.
Page 299.
Who would need bulk bottled moonshine? Restaurants and bars came to mind. I couldn’t imagine a stupendous demand for the product, however. Unless the patrons didn’t know what they were getting.
Page 300.
Deep breath in, slow breath out.
Page 300.
My plans had an annoying habit of going awry, however. We’d better be luckier this time.
Page 307.
Teresa Benedict came out of the bottling room and lingered beside him, arms folded across her chest.
Why was the mayor here?
Page 308.
The connection between the mayor and the moonshiner became clear. The mysterious contributions everyone wondered about came form Greg Partridge. A payoff for Teresa keeping the police from looking too closely at his operation. Chief Vick wouldn’t back down, so she killed him to protect her cash cow.
Page 310.
As we approached the door between the rooms, I incorporated my favorite writer’s trick: distraction.
Page 312.
As I made my way to the driver’s side, Olinski and a once again uniformed Eric pulled up in a black SUV, light bar flashing blue into the night.
He had a knack for showing up when I needed him most. I might have to keep him around after all.
Page 313.
When I settled in the car, the seat hugged me like an old friend.
Page 314.
My heart grew as I took I the smiling faces around me. I was part of a group for the first time in my life. I had people to support and protect me, and I’d gladly do the same for each of them.
Page 318.
Eric enfolded my hand. I not only didn’t mind but even entwined my fingers with his and waited. No panic. No overwhelming urge to run away.
Page 318.
For the second time in less than a week I kissed Eric. Only, this time, I meant it.
Page 319.