FOR THE FIRST TIME in four months, my schedule allowed me to sleep in. I would not. Unless on a stakeout, pre-dawn allowed me my best writing time away from my detective work.
Looking across the desert riparian while spying the awakening wildlife gifts me a feverish creativity.
With a fountain near my front door, I’m used to the clamorous ritual. My two teacup Yorkies, however, didn’t become accustomed to such a racket, producing ear-piercing barks when the javelina came up in herds to get the life-sustaining drink of water.
This morning became more normal as the sun began to rise. I found myself out of coffee pods, which left me with some sort of detoxifying dandelion root tea. It must work because every time I drink it I have diarrhea. My cat barfed up a good one. Not a little pile. She had to do the projectile vomiting thing, and although my house is almost all tile and wood floors the Ragdoll had to puke on my oriental rug. Finally, once again, my morning newspaper landed smack in the middle of the prickly pear cacti at my drive.
I seem to write what is always my last solved case as these stories prove to be stranger than fiction. I’ll twist around the names and locations and timelines and I’ll have another best seller, not because I’m that great of a writer but because I live these plots. Sometimes I live in these worlds for as long as a year. Sometimes, they are unshakeable for what will be my lifetime.
I had just finished writing my last chapter about the missing women of Tucson, to include a prominent but largely distrusted congresswoman, when my phone rang.
Sheppard “Schlep” Brown, number one on my detective team, proved to be our main brain. It seemed like he memorized the WWW while hitting the refresh button every morning.
He told me he would be at my home in ten minutes, which usually meant he wanted to swim some laps before work. I’m not a psychic, but I am a sensitive. Usually, the hairs on the nape of my neck rise when there is danger or even unwariness. Lately, I’ve been hearing the humming. Not like tinnitus and not like the vortexes of the earth in Sedona. Just a low hum resonating from deep inside of me.
My neck felt wildly tingly and my entire body sunk into the abyss of the humming as I hung up the phone.
Schlep knew to come through my house and out to the pool, and he knew my usually yapping dogs would only run to give him wet kisses at his ankles.
“Cassidy, I’ve been asked to deliver you some news, in person. Will you sit down?”
I love Schlep but he’s not the best at social etiquette. This request had me on full alert. I sat down on the chaise lounge and placed my cup of that nasty tea on a nearby table.
“Your friend, Catherine Bibbione, has passed away.”
I put my hands up to somehow support my face. “I don’t understand.”
“She died early morning, Rome time. Probably about the time you were climbing into bed.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Your friend, Breecie, is on the way down here.”
“She’s moving here,” I snapped, which is not at all like me.
“She asked that I come here and tell you.”
“I don’t understand. Catherine was healthy. The original let’s get physical girl. How?”
“Her husband claims it was a heroin overdose.”
Bingo. That’s why Schlep got involved. No one would believe that Catherine died of a drug overdose. Catherine would only sip at a flute of champagne on New Year’s Eve.
One more thing. Catherine was married to a mob boss that floated between Rome, New York, and Tucson the way most of us find a Starbucks on every corner. With ease.
I wish I would have slept in that morning with my phone turned off. My intuition ate at my stomach. This would be my new case. I would fly to Italy to properly say goodbye to my friend. And, without a doubt, I’d be taking on one of the largest Dons in the world. Anthony Bibbione.
For the first time, I felt real danger. The humming was all-consuming.
Bye Bye Bones is the first book in the NEW Cassidy Clark suspense series, published by Bridge Publishing, October 2015.
Jaxon Giles’ beloved dog is dead. He can’t prove it, but he knows who killed Gecko. His stalking ex-wife wants to take away anything and anyone he loves.
Private investigator Cassidy Clark agrees to run surveillance, while in the midst of helping the city of Tucson.
Women are disappearing. Gone. Were they murdered? Kidnapped and being held captive? A cult that enticed them to leave all belongings behind?
Without bodies and any crime scenes, there is no DNA. No evidence. No trace.
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Note: If you like what you’ve read, you can download a free kindle copy of Bye Bye Bones today (June 25, 2016) only.
Meet the author
Corriere is the author of five titles in suspense & thriller. Her most recent work, Bye Bye Bones, released in November 2015. Credits include the endorsement and mentorship from the late Sidney Sheldon, listed on USA Today as MUST READ SUSPENSE, and blurbs from Betty Webb, Andrew Neiderman, J.Carson Black, Paris Afton Bonds, and KT Bryan.
A desert rat, Corriere nestles there with her husband of twenty-seven years, and two Teacup Yorkies, Finnegan and Phoebe. Visit Lala at lalacorriere.com
All comments are welcomed.