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The Lady Said No
Location: Lexington and Bourbonville Kentucky
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The Race is on to find a Killer in the heart of Kentucky horse country
Detective Augustus Grant is faced with his most baffling case to date. Well-respected race horse breeder, John Jorgenson, is murdered in his den days before the Kentucky Derby and the list of suspects is growing.
Complicating matters, Gus’ ex-girlfriend is the last person to have seen the victim alive.
Rebecca Hayes owes the Jorgenson family her loyalty. They gave her a new life after a disastrous affair leaves her alone and pregnant.
With all the evidence pointing in Becky’s direction, will Gus do his duty?
Or follow his heart?
International link: http://books2read.com/The-LadySaidNo
The hero is a bumbling police investigator. (Think shades of Columbo :))
Growing up, I always wondered what it was that led Columbo to catch his man. When I started this mystery novel, he came to mind and so Detective Augustus Grant was born.
This story is set around the multi-million dollar horse racing industry. When a well-known breeder is found dead just days before the big race, Gus is brought in to investigate.
Is it suicide, or something much more devious?
What Readers are Saying
“The Lady Said No is an addictive mystery filled with cagy characters with the backdrop of the greatest horse race known to man.”
“I thought I knew who the killer was, and was really only partially right, shocking me until the end when it was revealed.”
“Detective Augustus “Gus” Grant seems like an uncomplicated man with clumsy ways, but in reality he’s… well, I’ll let you discover just how perfect he is.”
“Can murder be wonderful? LOL Yes, if the author writes an entertaining story and creates an interesting cast of characters.”
“The high-stakes world of horse racing and Southern fortunes lead to murder, blackmail. gambling and danger. The plot is well-crafted to create suspense and mystery.“
“This book was a delightful romp through a “Columbo-style Mystery” in the days leading up to the Kentucky Derby.”
That was interesting. He’d heard rumors around town that the Jorgensons were in financial straits, but he’d put it down to jealousy and human nature. Obviously, there was more to the story than he’d figured.
Maybe even enough for murder?
Gus finished the soup and thanked the young cook before making his way into the main part of the house. Fine hardwood floors and the dark wainscoting lined the walls. Everything was polished to within an inch of its life and glistened from top to bottom. How could anyone feel comfortable in a place like this? Bet the Jorgensons never kicked their feet up onto the coffee table to relax, or left their rooms in robes in search of a midnight snack. This was the type of house that demanded decorum.
As if to prove his verdict, a man came into view at the end of the hall. He was directing the coroner, Nancy Huggins, to a room with a police guard, disapproval radiating from his immaculate frame. He wore a suit nicer than Gus’ funeral attire, all three pieces starched and pressed to perfection. A wrinkle wouldn’t dare latch itself to those clothes.
Gus looked down at his own rumpled shirt and skewed tie and shrugged.
Nancy caught his eye and raised her brow. “Augustus. What brings you to the back of beyond?”
The manservant turned, and a chill crawled down Gus’ back. The guy had the deadest, black eyes he’d ever seen.
“I’m…ah, here to investigate the Jorgenson case. The Brass called and requested me for this one.”
“Hmm, must be important then. I heard you received a medal from the President.”
He hadn’t done anything to deserve a medal. It was pure luck that he figured out the plot to kidnap the President’s daughter, and was able to catch the perps before they got away with the deed.
“Why were you in the back of the house, sir? That area is reserved for the servants.” The manservant folded his arms and waited for an answer. Gus felt like a misbehaving child all over again.
“I, ah… came in from the pool, after talking to Mrs. Jorgenson. She gave me permission to question the staff as I see fit.” He met the man’s coal dark gaze. “And you are?”
Gus didn’t think it was possible for the broom handle to climb any further up the man’s butt.
“That’s Ernest. He takes a while to warm up to strangers,” a lilting voice drifted down from the upper reaches of the home.
Gus froze. His heart battered the walls of his chest. There was a ringing in his ears. The chicken soup threatened to revolt.
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