I should have gone to Connecticut in the spring. Carlton Marsh, my old college professor, needed help with research for his new book, an exposé on the Salvadoran Civil War that he covered as a frontline reporter in the 1980s. Carlton’s adventurous roaming days were long gone, and he couldn’t run around like he used to. I was supposed to do the running for him.

Unfortunately, in April, I was barely mobile. My left leg held together with pins and screws, courtesy of a goon who threw me off a staircase; I landed hard. By summer, things had improved, and I resumed limited field work. Surveillance, interviews, low-impact routine stuff. I was getting bored. Carlton kept in touch and suggested a change of scenery. He still had work for me, and we agreed that I would come up after Labor Day. He was cagey about the job, just saying that it involved Salvadoran refugees.

I landed in Newark around noon, picked up the rental car, and inched in traffic for four hours, about the same time I spent in the air. Of course, when I arrived in Old Mapleton, a quaint seaside Connecticut town, my injured leg felt as if the screws in there had turned to rust. The doc warned me: you have to keep moving. I already knew I could look forward to a miserable night. I hoped Carlton Marsh’s bar was well-appointed. To be able to sleep, I would have to knock myself out. The little white pills in my bag were for emergency only. For months, I’d been trying to wean myself off these bastards. It wasn’t easy. I had a few setbacks.

The cop car parked in front of Carlton’s villa didn’t ring alarm bells, but the attitude of the officer who intercepted me on the way to the front door did. Things got tense, and he hauled me off to the police station, stopping short of putting me in handcuffs. I soon learned where the suspicion came from. Carlton Marsh had killed himself the night before.

I couldn’t believe it. I talked to Carlton on the phone that evening and he gave no indication that he was in distress. Quite the opposite. He was eager to get me going on the research.

I told everything I knew to Old Mapleton’s police chief Burt Halston. The man struck me as solid. He was reluctant to share his findings with me, at first, but he needed somebody he could bounce ideas off. His staff didn’t have the right mindset. Halston, it turned out, also had doubts about the suicide. He took me to the villa and walked me through the scene. We talked it out. The gun, the ammo, fingerprints, or lack thereof … yes, something was off kilter.
I definitely wasn’t flying back to Houston.

Thanks to Halston, I found a place to stay for a few days. The trip, the news upon arrival, I was wiped. I fell into bed. That’s when my leg started acting up, worse than it ever had.

I’m not proud of what happened after that. And it was only the beginning.

Catch Me On A Blue Day – A Declan Shaw Mystery, Book 2
Genre: Private Investigator Mystery
Release: September 2025
Format: Digital, Print
Purchase Link

“For Ella and all the innocents slain by soulless men” is the dedication of the book on the Salvadoran Civil War retired reporter Carlton Marsh was writing before he committed suicide.

A shocking death. Marsh asked Declan Shaw to come to Old Mapleton, Connecticut, to help him with research. He looked forward to the visit: “See you at cocktail time, a fine whiskey’s waiting.” They talked on the phone a few hours before the man blew his head off. The local police chief would prefer to see Declan go back to Houston. He’s never dealt with a private detective, but everybody knows they’re trouble. If only there weren’t so many unanswered questions around Marsh’s death … the haunting first three chapters of his book, and that dedication to Ella, a girl whose murder thirty years ago brought the town to its knees.

In “Catch Me on a Blue Day”, Declan is far from his regular Texas stomping grounds. He’s off balance in more ways than one, and the crimes he uncovers are of a magnitude he could not foresee. Between the sins of a New England town and the violence of 1980s El Salvador. And the links between the two.

About the author
M.E. Proctor was born in Brussels and lives in Texas. She’s the author of the Declan Shaw PI series (Love You Till Tuesday and Catch Me on a Blue Day). She’s the author of a short story collection, Family and Other Ailments, and the co-author of a retro-noir novella, Bop City Swing. Her fiction has appeared in Vautrin, Rock and a Hard Place, Bristol Noir, Mystery Tribune, Reckon Review, and Black Cat Weekly among others. She’s a Shamus and Derringer short story nominee. Website: www.shawmystery.com – On Substack: meproctor.substack.com.