C.E. Chessher's Blog, page 2
August 26, 2013
July 16, 2013
Cover art
New cover art by Marion Sipe for Time Out, book three in South Texas Mystery series
May 14, 2013
Excerpt from Time Out
Read this excerpt from Time Out, book three in the South Texas Mystery series. MuseItUp Publishing has announced a July 2013 release date for the eBook.
__________
On the west side of Pawnee, a town of three hundred people, Glennis’s reverie dissipated when a gray Crown Vic darted from a side street and began following her. Her heart leaped in her chest.
Damn. Someone is tailing me. Again?
On a desolate stretch of highway between Pawnee and Oakdale, she floored the Belvedere until the Crown Vic was a mere speck in the rearview mirror. A moment later, she crossed a knoll, and the Crown Vic disappeared. She breathed a sigh of relief, but past a curve, she noticed a HiPo cruiser idling at a roadside park.
She let off the gas, but it was too late. The cruiser flipped on its dome light and took out after her.
Damn. I don’t need this—please.
Resigned to a citation, Glennis pulled off the highway and waited for the officer to approach the car.
It was Ron Kidman, the same officer who had helped investigate the Ray Willis murder scene in Pettrolius.
“Evening, ma’am,” Kidman said, lifting his hat as he peered inside the Belvedere. “You seem to be in a hurry this afternoon. Do you have some kind of emergency?”
Glennis wanted to blurt out the whole, sordid truth.
You bet this is an emergency. A man in a Crown Vic is tailing me, and I don’t have the slightest idea who it is. A shooter is running loose in Pettrolius, and no one knows if it’s the same man who killed Ray Willis. An arsonist is torching buildings and no one knows who that is, either. It’s too much, too soon, and I don’t know how to deal with it, okay? I’m not a trained investigator; I’m just a lowly newspaper reporter, and I’m tired.
“Hello, officer. I guess my foot got a little heavy,” she heard herself say. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately ….”
He peered at her for a few moments, as if examining a science specimen. “You need to take it easy, Miz Dunning. We all know the pressure you’ve been under lately .…with the murder and all.”
Kidman’s words and his manner sliced through her like a dull knife, reopening old wounds that had never healed. Her heart went into overdrive as clashing thoughts fought for dominance.
Tell him.
No, he’ll never believe you.
Tell him. What do you have to lose?
Finally, it was too late to stop the words that escaped her mouth. “Someone is following me.”
That got his attention. He glanced toward the section of highway that led east toward Pawnee. “Who’s following you, ma’am?”
“I don’t know who it is. A man driving a gray Crown Vic. He followed me all the way to San Antonio one day.”
He glanced back at the highway again. “I don’t see anyone, ma’am.”
Her cheek flinched from an involuntary spasm.
Damn. He’ll think I’m lying.
“The car came out of nowhere. I tried to outrun him. That’s why I was speeding.”
This time he eyed her compassionately, a look a preacher might use with a wayward congregant. Flipping open his ticket book, he began to write on it. “I’m going to give you a warning this time, Miz Dunning.” He tore off the ticket and handed it to her. “But I want you to take it easy, okay. Take it from someone who’s been there. You need to get away from Pettrolius for a day or two. Longer, if you can swing it.”
He tipped his hat again. “Good day, ma’am.” Then he walked back to his patrol car, crawled inside, and waited for Glennis to pull back onto the highway.
May 11, 2013
Another five-star review
Many thanks to jpayday, who on May 8 posted this review on Amazon:
Glennis, Ruby, Jake, and the other recurring characters reveal their quirks,
foibles, and humanity as they work together, not to just solve crimes, but to
make us want to know more about them and the events of their time in this part
of south Texas. The characters and setting are as comfortable as a glass of
sweet tea and a slice of pecan pie.
April 5, 2013
Publisher Sets July Release Date for eBook
In Time Out, book three in the South Texas Mystery series, a popular head coach is found shot dead in his high school athletic office. In the ensuing investigation, newspaper editor Glennis Dunning and Deputy Sheriff Jake Briggs uncover a bed-hopping trail that shocks and titillates the Coastal Bend oil town of Pettrolius.
MuseItUp Publishing has set a July 2013 release date for the eBook, which will also be available on Amazon and other eBook vendors.
December 19, 2012
Dunning clashes with county sheriff
Read what happens with newspaper reporter Glennis Dunning confronts Sheriff Manly Watson at the county jail:
“Well, if it ain’t North May County’s ace news reporter in the flesh!” Watson bellowed,
emerging from behind his desk to greet Glennis. A tall man in his late fifties, he had fading red
hair streaked with gray, roving amber-colored eyes, and a face splotched with broken veins.
Watson directed Glennis to a wooden chair in front of his desk.
Two things about Watson chapped her butt—his impish grin, and his habit of twirling a
toothpick in the corner of his mouth. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the toothpick habit was
sporadic, but like his grin, it was omnipresent. The toothpick twirling was as predictable as his
shit-eating grin.
Glennis stuffed her irritation, nodded, and with a tight smile, pretended Watson really
believed she was an “ace” reporter, even though they both knew the “compliment” was in reality
a backhanded slight. She sat down and plucked her reporter’s pen and pad out of her purse.
“What can I do for you, lady?”
She took a deep breath. Watson knew damn well why she was there. At least he didn’t
address her as “little lady,” as Adelle had done yesterday. “I’m here to interview Ben Finley.”
The irritating grin slid off Watson’s face. “You’re wasting your time. This here is an openand-
shut case if I’ve ever seen one.”
“That could be, Sheriff, but I think
Beacon readers deserve hearing Ben’s side of the story.”
“Ben don’t have a side,
Miz Dunning. He’s done confessed to killing his brother-in-law.”
She had given up asking Watson to call her Glennis. “With all due respect, sheriff, that’s not
what I heard. Could I have a copy of the confession?”
“Not on your life. That would piss Cunningham off royally. He don’t want to risk a mistrial
this early in the game.”
Bryce Cunningham, the May County DA, just happened to be running for reelection that
year.
“You might want to check with Cunningham again,” Glennis continued, trying not to sound
challenging. “If I recall, in the Enrique Sandoval case a couple of years ago, the DA’s office
released the defendant’s confession
before the trial began.”
“And as you know full well, lady, that little misstep about kicked the DA’s butt. This time,
Cunningham gave my office strict orders to make sure that don’t happen again.”
Glennis jotted down some notes, which made Watson squirm in his chair. Realizing it was
fruitless to pursue this particular issue any further, she posed a different question. “Will you send
the body to Corpus Christi for an autopsy?”
Watson guffawed. “You
are joking, Miz Dunning, right?”
“I’m serious as can be, Sheriff.”
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me the first time. I said Ben Finley confessed to the murder.”
“Indeed, you did, Sheriff, but I haven’t read the confession. Therefore, I am at a loss as to
how to react to it.”
Suddenly, he didn’t look so happy. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“I’m afraid I can’t make a judgment one way or another without reading what Ben is alleged
to have said.”
Watson had made the mistake two years earlier of telling everyone he kicked his two-packa-
day smoking habit by gnawing on a toothpick. After that, most everyone in the county except
Watson himself had learned to read Watson’s mood by monitoring the toothpick. The speed of
toothpick bobbing increased in direct proportion to Watson’s agitation. Right now, for instance,
it was bobbing like a praying mantis on speed. Although she gained quiet satisfaction from the
sheriff’s discomfort, she remained poker-faced. No use letting Watson read
her, after all.
Watson sighed. “So you want to hear what ole Ben has to say for himself firsthand?”
“That’s why I’m here, Sheriff.”
“I afraid I can’t help you with that.”
“Why not?” Glennis asked, leaning forward, trying like hell to keep her temper in check.
“Earlier this morning, Mr. Finley reported not feeling well.” Watson shot her a crooked grin.
“The county wouldn’t want a dedicated journalist like you to risk contracting some strange
ailment from a prisoner.”
Glennis tried to suppress her eagerness because she knew the sheriff would get a charge out
of denying her request, and that was the last thing she wanted. But the truth was, she needed to
talk with Ben as soon as possible. “I’m willing to take that chance, Sheriff.”
“Can’t risk it,” he repeated, thrusting out his lower lip and crossing his arms across his chest.
“Has a doctor examined Ben?”
“He had some kind of damn bug. Puke was splattered from one end of the cell to another.”
He grimaced. “And if that weren’t bad enough, he had the runs, too.”
Suddenly, Glennis felt nauseous, picturing what the cell must have looked like. “Could it
have been food poisoning?”
“We run a tight operation here,” he said, his voice hardening. “We don’t give our prisoners
tainted food.”
Suddenly, Glennis recalled an image from the previous year when she visited Enrique
Sandoval in jail. She’d noticed several times his food tray sat unrefrigerated on a small table
outside the cell for extended periods of time. She’d mentioned it to Sharon McCracken, who
raised her eyebrow and gave her
the look.
“When food temperatures fall outside the safe range,” Glennis put in, taking a deep breath,
“it doesn’t take long to develop botulism, Sheriff.”
“I hear the county health department has some openings, if that’s your interest,” he shot
back in a sour tone, chomping down on the toothpick in the corner of his mouth.
“Not my interest, just an observation. It might make an interesting Sunday feature, though.”
She paused a few beats, drumming her forefinger against her lips. “Unless I get in to interview
Ben, that is.”
“Are you threatening me, Miz Dunning?”
She tossed her head back and laughed throatily. “Why, of course not, Sheriff. A lady like
me? But, to tell the truth, I
am rather desperate to fill up my quota of newsprint. I was counting
on my interview with Ben. But since Ben is not available… Well, I have to do
something, now,
don’t I?”
“All right!” he snapped, wadding up a piece of paper and tossing it forcefully into the waste
basket next to his desk. “You got me over a barrel. I’ll ask Ben if he wants to talk with you.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. Unless you’d rather come back later.”
“Now is fine. But
I’d rather ask Ben myself if he feels like talking.”
“Whatever.” He snatched a key ring off a hook behind his desk and motioned for Glennis to
follow him.
When they got to the cell, Ben was huddled in the fetal position on top of his bunk.
“Finley,” Watson barked. “You got a visitor.”
Ben finally looked toward them with a furrowed brow. He looked like he was trembling.
“Don’t just sit there like a damn lump on a log. You know this lady here? She wants to help
you.” Watson smirked as he opened the cell door and motioned for Glennis to enter. “All yours.”
Glennis sighed. Watson’s tone was meant to undermine Ben’s confidence in her, if he had
any. But she had already anticipated Watson would do just that. If Watson would leave them
alone, she hoped to gain Ben’s trust.
“Let me know if you need me,” Watson snarled as he turned to walk away. “I’ve got
paperwork to do.”
“Thanks, Sheriff,” Glennis murmured, not really meaning it.
When she was sure Watson was out of sight, Glennis walked over to Ben’s bunk, bent down,
and reached out to him. She grasped his wrists gently, and in a soft voice said, “You remember
me, don’t you, Ben? I’m Glennis Dunning with the
May County Beacon.”
“Of course, Miz Glennis. I remember you.”
“I’m so sorry this has happened to you, Ben,” she said, gently squeezing his wrists.
He looked up at her with puppy-dog eyes. “Miz Glennis, why are they keeping me here?
Elias killed my Pogo.” He eyes welled up, and a tear suddenly slid down his cheek. “He was my
best friend in the whole world.”
“I know that,” Glennis said softly, patting him on the wrist. “A lot of people know that,
Ben.”
“Then why are they making me stay here? I don’t like the way they treat me, Miz Glennis.”
“How do they treat you?”
He blinked away another tear. “Like I did something wrong.”
“Well, it’s like this,” Glennis began, letting out a sigh. “Haven’t you ever heard that
expression ‘being at the wrong place at the wrong time’?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what happened to you, Ben. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“But that’s where I live.” He shuddered.
“I know that, Ben. But it’s also where Elias was…killed.” Glennis wanted to soften the word,
but with murder… Well, there was no way.
“Look at me,” Glennis said. She grasped Ben’s chin and aligned his gaze with hers. “I’ll do
everything I can to find the real killer, but you have to help me. Can you do that, Ben?”
“I’ll try, Miz Glennis.”
“That’s not good enough,” she said with a grimace. “I want you to promise me you’ll tell me
everything you can remember about that day. Everything.”
He blinked. “Sometimes I don’t remember so good.”
“I’ll help you, Ben. It just takes practice.” She paused, smiled, and grasped his palms. “Let’s
pretend it’s a game. I’ll ask you a bunch of questions, and you’ll see how many you can answer.
Think of it as a game.”
“That might make it fun,” he admitted, smiling for the first time since she’d arrived. “You
ask, and I’ll answer.”
“Only I need for your answers to be true, Ben.”
“Oh, I promise. I’m not good at making up stuff, anyhow.”
“That’s perfect. We’ll work well together, Ben. I know it!”
He beamed.
“Say, Ben,” she said, reaching down to retrieve something from her purse. “I’ve got a
portable tape recorder. Do you mind if I record our interviews? It’ll help us both remember, and I
think you’ll enjoy it.” She turned the switch to record.
“Like in a spy movie,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Can I hear it afterward?”
“Well, sure… I can let you hear parts of it, but we may not have time for you to sit and listen.”
November 16, 2012
Sparks fly at Esperanza Lounge
Read what happens when newspaper reporter Glennis Dunning interviews Precinct 2 constable Roth Adelle and his drinking buddy Mona Cheney inside the Esperanzo Lounge, a Pettrolius beer joint. In 1960s rural Texas, constables doubled as coroners.
Circling the beer joint circuit mid-morning, Glennis spotted Roth Adelle’s pea-green 1962 Chevy Biscayne parked in front of the Esperanza Lounge on South Street near the San Antonio-Aransas Pass Railroad tracks. Adelle had to use his personal car for work because the county did not supply constables with vehicles.
Glennis whipped her Belvedere into a parking space and headed for the front door of the lounge before she could talk herself out of it. She had been dreading this meeting with Adelle for two days, and that meant it was something she needed to do. She yanked open the heavy door and stepped inside the dark, dank bar into the atmosphere of stale beer and cigarettes.
Glennis stood near the doorway for a few moments to let her eyes adjust to the dim lightwhen suddenly a female voice called out from across the room. “Why, lookie here, Roth, we got the press right here at the Esperanza.” The woman laughed maniacally.
Glennis recognized the voice. It belonged to Mona Cheney, Adelle’s drinking buddy. Glennis steeled herself and inched toward the voice.
Why does it take my eyes so long to adjust to darkness?
She hated feeling so vulnerable.
“Get your butt over here and join us for a morning brew,” Mona added, cackling again.
“Let me get another chair,” Adelle said. By this point, Glennis’s eyes had adjusted well enough to see Adelle pluck a chair from a nearby table and plop it down at theirs.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Glennis replied, trying to sound sociable, but feeling quite hollow inside.
“Guess you got to do a little slummin’ today, huh, Glennis?” Mona smarted off, cackling once again.
Anticipating such a response, Glennis immediately ordered a beer for herself.
“Go easy on the little woman,” Adelle put in soothingly. “She’s got a job to do, Mona, just like I do.”
Mona muttered something under her breath. She was a small wiry woman with short curly hair; beady mischievous eyes; a high-pitched, squeaky voice, and a permanent smart-aleck grin.
“Well, I got a job, too,” Mona said haughtily. “My job is to be the best damn drunk in Pettrolius.” She cackled again.
“Listen here, woman,” Adelle interjected suddenly, serious for once. “I want you to show this little lady here the respect she deserves. If you can’t do that, I’ll dunk your damn head in the toilet out back.”
Mona bristled. “Well, la de da. Since when does the press get this kind of special treatment?”
“Since you got that damn smart mouth on you, that’s when,” Adelle hissed.
Mona sat up erect as a debutante posing for the society page cameraman. “You’ve chosen that woman over me.” She sniffed, glaring at Adelle and then at Glennis. “And after all I’ve done.”
“You’re full of crap, Mona Cheney,” Adelle guffawed.
“Yeah? Well, maybe I’ll just sign that damn recall petition, too.”
The humor drained from Adelle’s face. “What petition?”
“I wanted to spare my drinkin’ buddy; that’s why I ain’t said nothin’ about it.”
“Yeah? Well, I bet a good head-dunkin’ in the toilet will wipe that smirk off your face.”
“Is that a threat?”
Glennis couldn’t take any more. “Hold on, you two,” she put in, crossing her forearms in a peace gesture. “I didn’t come here to referee a verbal prizefight.”
“Give her what she wants so she’ll leave us be,” Mona shot back, swigging down half her beer. “All this arguing is giving me dry mouth.”
Roth took another drink and let out a long sigh. “What can I help you with, little lady,” he asked, peering at Glennis.
Glennis had already decided the best way to elicit information from Adelle was to assuage his ego. “Roth, I know you’re the forensics expert in these parts,” she began, emitting a small smile. “Can you explain how you determined Elias Bryden’s cause of death? I think our readers would be fascinated at your conclusions.”
Roth was short and stocky, with a full head of gray hair and a ruddy complexion from years of working in the South Texas sun and drinking thousands of longnecks. Glennis’s compliment made him plump up like a strutting peacock. “All right. I’ll explain it in layman’s terms, if that’s all right with you.”
“I think our readers would appreciate that.”
“Well, I guess you know my office ain’t got access to fancy equipment or chemical tests like in the big city. That’s why we have to rely on keen observation and a good dose of common sense.”
Glennis knew all that, but she didn’t let on that she knew. “I understand, Roth. Sometimes I think a good eye for detail is as important in investigative work as fancy equipment. Maybe more so.”
“You got that right, little lady,” Roth said with a roguish smile.
Roth’s ‘little lady’ moniker was getting on Glennis’s nerves. She came close to telling him to drop it, but she stopped herself. If she did, Adelle would probably clam up and stomp out the door. She had already put too much into the interview to risk alienating him. “I heard a report that your preliminary ruling was death by blunt trauma to the head. Is that official?”
“Delivered the report to the DA’s office this morning,” he said with a nod.
“I see.” Glennis jotted down some notes. “Tell me, just out of curiosity, how you determine that someone died by that way?” Glennis hoped she posed the question in a tone that did not sound challenging.
“Ain’t no mistake about it,” Adelle said, guffawing again. “Bryden had a gash in the side of his head the size of a tire tool. His face was a bloody mess.”
“Did you find the weapon?”
Glennis immediately thought of several other possible causes of death, but she kept her mouth shut. Her aim was to get Adelle to talk, not to pose alternative causes of death. Not to Adelle, anyhow. She could discuss all that later with Jake, and maybe the DA.
“That was very astute of you to notice the bruises, Roth,” Glennis said finally. “Many people probably wouldn’t have noticed that, or they wouldn’t have been able to put two and two together.”
Adelle beamed, and took another swig of beer.
“Roth is a trained professional,” Mona put in, gulping more beer. “He got a coroner certificate from Corpus Christi.”
“Oh?” Glennis responded with mock interest.
“Yep,” Adelle responded proudly. “Two-day course put on by the Texas Rangers. County paid for it.”
“Why, you should have said something,” Glennis responded. “We could have put something in the paper about it.” She hoped she didn’t sound condescending, although truthfully, she felt that way.
“No use braggin’ about a matter like that,” Adelle said. “Goes with the job.”
“Told you, you should have, Roth,” Mona interjected. “Might have nipped that recall petition in the bud.”
“Tell you what, Roth,” Glennis offered. “I’ll work the fact that you earned a coroner’s certificate into my story on Elias Bryden’s murder. How about that?”
Adelle studied the table for a few moments, hand gripping the longneck. “Couldn’t hurt, I guess, since they’re circulating that damn petition to kick me out.”
Several minutes later, Glennis managed to break away from the two drunks, relieved to get the worst chore of the day over with. All she had to do now was file an update of the murder story with the Mayvale office of the Beacon and meet Ruby at the Highway Café later that afternoon. She relied on Ruby for common-sense advice, and today she needed it more than ever. Ruby would offer ideas on Elias Bryden’s murder, and that would be helpful. But even more importantly she needed input on what, if anything, she should do about Marilyn’s Hispanic boyfriend.
November 6, 2012
October 23, 2012
Pre-order and save 20%
Save 20% Pre-order Murder Off Shadow Lane, Book two in South Texas Mystery series. Release date November 2, 2012
