Passable mystery, loveable (or despicable) characters, sloppy writing. There are places where Delany's syntax is so poor you have to read a sentence twice, sometimes three times, to make sure you've understood her meaning. That's the mark of bad writing choices. And I enjoy her descriptions of th...
Elaine Benson, a successful novelist who let love in the person of an unreliable screenwriter jettison her career, is now divorced, broke, and come to a "primitive, untamed northern forest" on Lake Muskoka to interview for a job. Elderly Miss Moira Madison of the fabulously rich Canadian family w...
I admit I like free shit. I also admit I’m not entirely rational in my thought process. For example, I happily hand over my Bouchercon and Left Coast Crime Conference fees and feel like I’ve won the lottery when I receive a bag filled with books. Seriously, this ends up being one of the major hig...
Even better than Carolanne had expected. She stole a peek at Walter, relaxing and reading a book in a comfortable armchair on the far side of the room. As though he felt her eyes on him, he looked up. He smiled. She smiled back. They’d had their fin...
I’d arranged to meet some visiting Canadian army guys at Notos for dinner. The place was packed when I arrived. Shirley was behind the bar. Jazz was playing. Cooks tended fires. Waitresses carried trays of food. Spices filled the warm night air. Jake and Ron waved when they saw me come in. They a...
Jake aimed a careless kick at one of them and missed by a good margin. He spat into the street instead and went back inside. “Goodness,” said Miss Witherspoon. “Ma’am.” Ray touched his cap. “Help you, Angus?” “We’re meeting someone.” “Constable Ster...
Ray Lopez almost rubbed his hands together in glee. Conveniently, Jones kept his accounts in one bank. Lopez picked up the phone. He played poker with the branch manager occasionally.Copies of Jones’ financial records were on his computer before the hour was up. Lopez wasn’t a forensic accountant...
July 12, 1947 I have the house to myself. And the quiet is wonderful. Bob has taken his mother and Shirley to the potluck supper at the church. I complained all day of a headache in order to get out of it. Bob was quite concerned; before they left he made sure that I was comfortably settled in fr...
Meredith Morgenstern pulled her Neon in as tightly as she could. She climbed out, pushing aside grasping twigs and dead branches. The rear end of her compact car stuck out, but the path dropped sharply into the bush, and she daren’t drive in any further. So Molly Smith had gone walkabout. A...
BANFF, ALBERTA. SUNDAY NOON. The Lighthouse Keeper was almost full when Lucky Smith entered. A woman called out, “Be with you in a sec,” as she crossed the room carrying plates piled high with pancakes and sausages, eggs and potatoes and toast. The place was warm and redolent with damp wool dryin...
I drove her back to the youth center where she’d left her car. Then I went to the station. I put my uniform on and headed out onto the road. It was snowing lightly. Big fat flakes. The radio said there’d be a storm tonight. We’d be busy then. We always were when it snowed. We patrol the cemeterie...
“How marvelous of Fergus to get people talking about Rudolph in a good way,” she said. “It was,” I agreed. “And how convenient that Russell happened to have a sympathetic New York Times reporter ready to pop down and do a feature.” ...
We faced only one portage that day, but it was a long one, almost three miles. Which was a great deal, considering that we had to walk the route three times, once with the first load, then make our way back to pick up a second pile, and carry all that down the trail again. The whole trip would ...
A murder investigation, he reminded me, was not part of my job here. Once again he was right. But once again I didn’t like it. I told myself to mind my own business. The Hammond murder had nothing to do with me. I had the next day off, and I was determined to enjoy it. I slept in. When I got up, ...