When I woke up this morning, I felt like I hadn’t slept at all. I rolled over, eyes still shut, determined to fall back to sleep. The sound of my dear husband’s car heading down our driveway changed my plans. If Jim had already left for parts unknown, I temporarily had the house to myself. This was a rare occurrence since Jim’s retirement several years ago, and I was determined to enjoy every minute of blessed solitude.
I’m Carol Andrews, by the way. Apologies for not introducing myself before. I was born and raised in Fairport, Connecticut — a town popular with tourists for its Long Island Sound location, and with commuters for its easy train ride into New York City. Jim and I have been married for almost forty years and have two adult children — Jenny and Mike, plus one adorable grandson, CJ, thanks to Jenny and her husband, Fairport police detective Mark Anderson.
My fantasy of a solo morning at home vanished with the first swallow of Jim’s delicious coffee. I had an 11:00 appointment this morning at the Fairport police station to sign a statement about the latest murder I was involved in. So far, I think there have been twelve, but I was never good at math.
The first murder was all Jim’s fault. I don’t mean I’m married to a murderer. But several years ago, my dear husband did find the first of what’s turned out to be an ongoing parade of corpses.
It all began on that fateful day when Jim announced he was taking early retirement from his public relations job in the Big Apple (that would be Manhattan, for you out-of-towners). The idea of having an at-home husband with nothing to do except “help” me around the house every waking hour of every single day for the rest of my life appealed to me as much as a root canal without Novocain.
I suggested Jim see Davis Rhodes, a local retirement coach, to make his transition easier (especially on me). It wasn’t my fault the coach turned out to be a crook! When Jim found the coach’s dead body slumped over his kitchen table, he did the right thing and immediately called the police. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the investigating officers to discovered that Jim was furious with Rhodes over a joint business deal gone wrong, thereby making him the prime suspect in the coach’s murder.
Of course, I had to prove Jim was innocent. That was the beginning of the above mentioned parade of murdered bodies, culminating in the current one when my son Mike wanted me to learn pickleball. Being an eye witness to a bloody murder-in-progress was a first for me.
It’s time to be on my way to police headquarters again. I’m thinking of asking for a reserved parking space.
PICKLEBALL CAN BE MURDER
Series: A Carol and Jim Andrews Baby Boomer Mystery, Book 12
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Release: April 2026
Format: Print, Digital
Amazon US | Amazon Canada | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble
Carol Andrews hates to exercise. Poppy Hollister hates Carol Andrews. When the two have a heated encounter on the local pickleball court, and their cars have a too-close encounter in the facility parking lot, Poppy retaliates by suing Carol for over $2 million. Now Carol hates Poppy Hollister even more than she hates to exercise.
Tension between the two ratchets up even more when Poppy is suspected of murdering her estranged husband and begs Carol for help. The complications keep right on coming in this laugh-out-loud mystery with more twists and turns than a bowl of rotini pasta.
About the author
Susan Santangelo is the author of the best-selling Baby Boomer mystery series. The humorous mysteries follow the adventures of Carol and Jim Andrews as they navigate life’s rocky road toward their twilight years. Susan is a member of Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, and the Cape Cod Writers Center. She divides her time between Clearwater, Florida and Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and shares her life with her husband Joe (not Jim). A dog lover all her life, her two English cocker spaniels, Boomer and Lilly, are featured on the books’ covers. She is also a two-time breast cancer survivor, and credits early detection by mammograms for saving her life twice.