Clemency, A Novel in Progress: Chapter 14

The following novel in progress is based on a real crime, but is largely a work of fiction.  I started this novel in 2008 and stopped after just a few chapters.  I will post those chapters here, and (hopefully) finish the remainder of the novel during NaNoWriMo.

Chapter 13 is here.

******

Before the sound of Mrs. Whitebread’s steps fully faded away, Sarah had tapped out a text message to Michael. She mentioned Lucas but not the black SUV that had taken off as soon as Mrs. Whitebread had turned away from the window. She dropped the phone and rubbed her face, massaging sweat into her skin. She wanted to go back to her cottage, take a long shower, and then curl into bed and sleep until the deadline for Misty’s clemency petition had passed and there would be nothing they could do for her.

What a bitch, she thought to herself, of herself. What a pathetic, scaredy-cat bitch. What kind of lawyer would I be if I run away from every hard, every dangerous case. She hadn’t studied law to work on real estate transactions or trade agreements or copyright infringements. She hadn’t studied law to make money. She wanted to make a difference in people’s lives, people who didn’t have anyone advocating for them because they were poor or the wrong color or the wrong ethnicity. She wanted to advocate for the disenfranchised, people like Misty who didn’t have the means or the savvy to obtain a good defense. People who pled guilty even they weren’t guilty. They were just scared by a system that seemed to have nothing but contempt for them.

Her phone buzzed. It wasn’t Michael returning her call. It was the same caller as before, the one she had gotten just before Mrs. Whitebread’s strange visit. This time she took the call.

She froze when she heard the voice. She could almost smell the cigar smoke.

“Miss Mansfield. This is Sheriff Cooley. I believe I have some information that might help Misty’s case.”

“What information?” Sarah managed to sit down but every sense in her body was telling her to put the phone down and run.

“Well, actually, it’s something her half-sister Melody wants to tell you. Could you drive over here now, to Oyster Point?”

“Now?” Sarah glanced outside the window. It was getting dark. The faux-19th century street lamps were slowly coming on, making the natural light darker than it would otherwise be. Still, by the time she could get to Oyster Point, it would be dark. And she didn’t have any protection. She had never liked guns. Her father had given her target lessons when she was a teen-ager, which she had hated because of the noise and the recoil that her small frame always struggled with. But he had been persistent about it especially after one of her classmates was raped and murdered in her own home while her parents were on a weekend trip. It didn’t matter to her father that it was the young girl’s boyfriend who was the murderer and that Sarah never had a boyfriend and that her parents never left her alone overnight. It didn’t matter. What mattered to her father was that she’d know how to use a gun. The problem right now was that she didn’t have one.

“Yes, ma’am. I think Melody has a confession of sorts to make. She’s in distress right now otherwise I’d put her on the phone.”

Sarah hadn’t yet met Melody but nothing she had heard about the woman made Sarah feel she could trust her anymore than she could trust Cooley. Still, Melody had been at the scene of the crime when law enforcement arrived. One of the reports said that she had had blood on her, JImmy’s blood it was presumed, although no one bothered to test it to be sure.

“Okay. It will take me a couple of hours.”

“That’s fine, Miss Mansfield. I do apologize for the inconvenience, but I believe it will be worth your while.”

Sarah ended the call and stared at her phone for a few moments. Should she text or call Michael, she wondered? But he hadn’t yet responded to her text. Maybe he was busy with his “friend.” She didn’t know why it bothered her that he might have a female friend. It would probably be strange if he didn’t. Maybe he had more than one friend. Oh, damn, why did she care? He wasn’t her type. Too muscular. Too dark, not just in coloring with his dark eyes and dark hair (at least what little bit he left unshaved) and heavily tanned skin. He was all dark nature, like someone who would spend hours hiking through a forest but not even a few minutes reading a book. He was … sensual, not cool and distant like Lucas, like her dad, like the men she had been drawn to in law school. Men who tended not to return her interest once they learned that her student loans really were needed to pay her tuition and books, not to finance a fancy lifestyle.

She threw her phone into her messenger bag and slung the heavy thing over her shoulders. She didn’t try to be quiet as she ran down the stairs, her steps making an awful racket. Enough of one that Mrs. Whitebread appeared at her doorway, grimacing from the noise and the vibration Sarah’s clomping had set about her fine bone china teacups and saucers.

“Sorry, I’m in a hurry, Mrs. Whitebread.” She rushed past the woman, only momentarily wondering if she should stop and ask for the small unloaded pistol. But she decided against false confidence. Having a gun could be more dangerous than not having one, she thought as she practically flew out the back door to her car.

******

Final day for the Occasional Soulmates 99 cent countdown deal!

1WriteWay:

Snooze and you lose! Today is the last day to get Kevin Brennan’s Occasional Soulmates for only 99 cents! But if you’re really savvy, you’ll buy the paperback which allows you to have the Kindle version for free. Then you can give the paperback as a gift to your best friend and keep the Kindle version for yourself. A win-win!

Originally posted on WHAT THE HELL:

Blue gorilla

That’s right. If you’ve been fence-sitting on this thing, today’s the day you have to act. Occasional Soulmates is 99 cents until midnight PST.

It’s been a successful promotion, but only thanks to EReader News Today. On its own, a Kindle Countdown Deal doesn’t attract much attention, it seems to me; you need an outside push to ensure that lots of eyeballs see it. Luckily ENT isn’t terribly expensive, like a lot of them, but it’s effective.

To ignite one last flash of interest, I’m reposting here Cinthia Ritchie’s interview with me earlier this week on her blog. Hope you like it. Tell your friends. And, as always, thanks for your support on social media throughout this promotion.

—–

Q: How did you come up with the idea for Occasional Soulmates? Did it pop inside your head suddenly or was it a slow tease?

A: It was a pretty…

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Clemency, A Novel in Progress: Chapter 13

The following novel in progress is based on a real crime, but is largely a work of fiction.  I started this novel in 2008 and stopped after just a few chapters.  I will post those chapters here, and (hopefully) finish the remainder of the novel during NaNoWriMo.

Chapter 12 is here.

******

Sarah sucked in her breath. Mrs. Whitebread didn’t look a like a killer, not with that fine string of pearls around her neck and her silver hair done up in a soft French twist and her feet still looking like they wanted to party in their Manolo Blahnik stilettos. The older woman turned her hand and held out the pistol to Sarah.

“Would you know how to use this? Do you have any protection?”

Sarah didn’t know whether to laugh or punch the old woman in the face or both. Read the full post »

Clemency, A Novel in Progress: Chapter 12

The following novel in progress is based on a real crime, but is largely a work of fiction.  I started this novel in 2008 and stopped after just a few chapters.  I will post those chapters here, and (hopefully) finish the remainder of the novel during NaNoWriMo.

Chapter 11 is here.

******

Sarah folded herself into the hard wooden chair in her office. She had managed to get to Tully House and park her car without any further incidents. She didn’t need anything else to shake up her. She hugged her knees to her chest trying to still her shivering body. She wasn’t cold. In fact, she was sweating, using a table fan to try and dry off her skin if not exactly cool it. She had to open the window to let in some fresh, albeit heavy air; otherwise, the attic smelled of a tomb with all the dust and stillness.

If there ever was a time she really, really needed her parents, this was it. She thought she was going insane. The threatening note. Lucas and Billy James. Cooley. The black SUV. The sense that someone had been in the attic since last night when she was there with Michael. The antique shop was open when she came into the house, but Mrs. Whitebread was on the phone and so she managed to avoid her. Still, something made Sarah pause near the open door of the shop, long enough to hear Mrs. Whitebread say, “I think she took some of the records with her last night.” When Sarah leaned toward the door to hear better, she almost knocked over a tiny vase of roses sitting on a small table. The clacker of the vase threatening to fall over reverberated through the house. Before Mrs. Whitebread could say anything, Sarah stuck her head inside the room and gave the older woman a big smile. “It’s just me, Mrs. Whitebread. Being clumsy.”

Mrs. Whitebread was sitting at her desk, a cell phone pressed close to her ear. She was sitting back, her right hand holding a fountain pen and paused in the air, as if she had started to write something down. She was staring straight at Sarah. Only a slight reddening of her pale, papery cheeks gave away her surprise. Sarah glanced at the other woman’s feet, crossed and resting on a needlepointed footstool. She was wearing the Manolo Blahnik shoes and Sarah wondered if perhaps they were the only pair of fancy shoes she had. Even the dress looked very similar to the one she had worn the first day they met.

“Sorry to disturb you.” Sarah moved away before Mrs. Whitebread had a chance to respond and bounded up the stairs, making quite a racket as she did. She needed to get to the attic fast, before she totally fell apart.

Sitting alone, she wondered who Mrs. Whitebread had been talking to and whether it was about her. But she knew it had to be. Paranoia was not an unreasonable feeling; it was just something she wasn’t used to. If only her parents were alive and she could call them. If only they had lived and were now nearby as they had planned.

Her cell phone buzzed and danced a little on her desk. She picked it up but didn’t answer right away. She didn’t recognize the number but she could see it was local. She didn’t want to answer it. Let it go to voicemail, she thought as she put it back on her desk.

“Oh, Sarah, get a grip on yourself!” She stood up abruptly and stretched her body as she tried to touch the ceiling. A good lawyer wouldn’t let a couple of strange incidents interfere with her work. It could all be coincidence. That black SUV could just have been some asshole wanting to mess with her for the sake of messing with her. Just because the license plate was Franklin County, well, that was just coincidence.

Sarah tossed her messenger bag on the desk and started to organize the records she had taken the night before. Then she stopped. The unmistakeable creaking of the stairs. Someone was coming up to the attic. She glanced out the window. It was broad daylight, although late afternoon. Nothing to be afraid of. She moved toward the alcove and sniffed. No hint of cigar smoke, at least not yet. She felt her heart start to pick up pace and the sweat on her skin chilled. A slight, almost delicate knock at the door, which Sarah had, thankfully, locked. Even when Michael was with her the night before, she had locked it.

The knock recurred and a small voice said, “Sarah, this is Mrs. Whitebread. I need to talk with you.”

Sarah opened the door and the older woman stood on the landing as if waiting to be announced at a debutante’s ball. She had a string of pearls about her neck and in her right hand was a pearl-handled pistol, pointed at Sarah.

******

Clemency, A Novel in Progress: Chapter 11

The following novel in progress is based on a real crime, but is largely a work of fiction.  I started this novel in 2008 and stopped after just a few chapters.  I will post those chapters here, and (hopefully) finish the remainder of the novel during NaNoWriMo.

Chapter 10 is here.

******

Cooley hadn’t been gone long when Melody heard the crunch of gravel coming from just outside her door. The day was hot and humid and she kept her door open in the hopes that a breeze from the bay might find its way to her trailer. Sidle in and lift the dirty brown hair from her neck. She really should take a shower. It had been a couple of days but when she was feeling bad, she tended to like to stew in her own sticky sweat. It made the shower that she would ultimately take feel that much better. Like when she was a little girl and they would all go camping at Cape San Blas and the only washing she did was in the warm bay. They’d camp for a few days and coming home she and Misty would race each other for the shower. When they were really little, before she started to hate Misty, feel jealous of her for being younger and prettier, they would sometimes shower together, giggling at all the sand they would wash off their skin. Read the full post »

A Different Kind of Book Review: Occasional Soulmates by Kevin Brennan.

Dear Reader, here is another in my unplanned series of book reviews.  I hope you enjoy this commercial break.  Did you know that currently the ebook version of Occasional Soulmates by Kevin Brennan, the subject of this review, is available for just 99 cents.  If you’ve been on the fence about getting yourself a copy, well, here’s your chance to get it cheap.  And if the price alone isn’t enough to sway you, then I do hope the following “different kind of book review” will knock you right off the fence and onto Amazon’s page for Occasional Soulmates

a occasional soulmates

******

Sarah stuffed the manila folders into her messenger bag. She rubbed her eyes. She was tired of reading dark, gruesome material: coroner reports, Sheriff Cooley’s statement of Misty’s battered body, arrest records. She needed a break. Something that would take her away from the seedy world of small-time drugs and cheap sex. She reached back into her bag and pulled out a paperback that Michael had given her. It had seemed funny to him that the woman in the novel was named Sarah and that she was looking for love in all the wrong places. He’d tried to hide his smirk when he said this to her, and Sarah, in turn, fumed to herself. Read the full post »

Ten Thing Not to Do When the Weather Turns Cold

1WriteWay:

A very special “not to-do” list from John Howell, for all our friends experiencing cold temps and heavy snow. Best enjoyed with a hot drink and several layers of clothing.

Originally posted on Fiction Favorites:

a cold

This list is inspired by the temperature here on the south Texas Coast. As I write this the temperature is thirty-seven degrees. Way too cold for an old fart and his dog.

Ten Things Not to Do When the Weather Turns Cold

10 If the weather turns cold, do not think turning on the heat is for wimps. If you do, at best you may find yourself refusing to get out of bed. At worst, you could see your pipes freeze and split like a bratwurst on a hot fire. A slit bratwurst is no big deal, the pipes a little more problematic.

9 If the weather turns cold, do not avoid getting out the heavy clothes. If you do, at best you will find yourself shivering when you go outside. At worst, you could be found stiff as a board sitting on a bench waiting for the rescue dog…

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Clemency, A Novel in Progress: Chapter 10

The following novel in progress is based on a real crime, but is largely a work of fiction.  I started this novel in 2008 and stopped after just a few chapters.  I will post those chapters here, and (hopefully) finish the remainder of the novel during NaNoWriMo.

Chapter 9 is here.

******

Melody held the ice-pack to her right eye as she slowly lowered herself onto her couch. She positioned herself so she couldn’t see the pot-bellied man in her doorway, smoking his cigar, dumping the ash on the welcome mat she kept at the front door. Hell, she thought, it wasn’t much of a mat but she hated having to clean up after him anyway. She knew he was leaning with his hip against the door frame. He thought he was so tough with his Glock overcompensating for where he lacked in other departments. She could never say anything like that to him. She had only complained that she was out of cocaine, that it was kind of his fault since he had locked up her dealer, Billy James. She should have seen it coming, his fist making a bee line for her eye. Stupid, stupid. Read the full post »

Occasional Soulmates — 99 cents for one week starting… Now!

1WriteWay:

Sister, brother, can you spare a dollar? In return, Kevin Brennan can give you hours of pleasure. Read his post to see how.

Originally posted on WHAT THE HELL:

Here we go. My first Kindle Countdown. As the man in the video says, I need a dollar.

Actually 99 cents. From hundreds of people. This week.

Go. Now. Spread the word across the land.

Kevin Brennan needs a dollar.

Occasional Soulmates — 99 cents.

PS –

Here are a few things that cost 99 cents:

ChapStick
A bottle of water
A can of Spam
A couple of stamps
False eyelashes
A whoopee cushion
A tomato
A can of Fancy Feast

You get the picture. Skip one of those and buy a book today instead. Mine!

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A Different Kind of Book Review: Dawning by Olivia Stocum aka Chapter 9 of Clemency, A Novel in Progress

Dear Reader, I’m taking a short break from my novel in progress to present another in my unplanned series, A Different Kind of Book Review.  It all goes into my NaNoWriMo word count, but not necessarily into my final draft of Clemency.  Then again … .  Well, read on, Dear Reader, and I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 8 is here.

******

Dawning

Misty handed the tattered paperback to Lorene Jeffers, the prison librarian, and pulled the mug of hot chocolate to her.  Somehow Lorene had contrived to set aside an hour each week to sit with Misty and go over books she was reading.  They even allowed her to make hot chocolate, although it was the packaged kind made with water.  Misty didn’t care.  It still seemed like a luxury to her.

Lorene tapped the cover of the paperback. “So what did you think?  Did you like Dawning?” Read the full post »

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