Beta Reader for a Thriller? Serial Killer and an ineffective ghost.

[Beau]

I've written two manuscripts, this is the first one I'm taking seriously.

It's 51K words, depending on the day. I'm looking for feedback on the story specifically (hahaha that's just hilarious to read), specifically the pacing. Where did you start to lost interest? Did it keep you engaged? Did you figure out that Rosebud was a sleigh? Things of that nature.

Here's a synopsis I spent minutes and minutes on. (I swear I've spent a lot longer on the book)

What do you do when you find out your grandfather's a serial killer?

On the morning an old lady was killed behind her store, Kate found a snapshot of a body being buried in a basement. The only thing in the photo was the dead woman, and an old man's hands in gloves, holding a shovel. Those gloves, rawhide, the fingertips worn out on two fingers, look exactly like her grandfather's.

--

And that's a horrible synopsis. I haven't really thought this part out yet. There's the creepy old grandfather, the crotchety old dead lady who haunts him, Kate and her girlfriend - there's some odd things going on in the story that puts this solidly between thriller and comedy, maybe?

Here's the first chapter. Let me know if you're interested. I wonder if HTML will work.

SNAPSHOT Chapter One.

His little eyes bulged as Marvin's grip tightened around his neck.

"Hold still you damn demon! This will all be over in just a moment.”

Marvin flipped the pocket knife open and in a flash ripped open the throat, spilling blood on the black soil. For an old man, his hands moved with the quick precision of a surgeon. Kneeling over the body, he held it down as the blood pulsed out in waves.

He wiped the blade off on the grass, pushed it closed against his black slacks and then slid the knife into his white dress shirt pocket.

Blacks and whites. That’s all Marvin Hill ever wore, every day, ever since his twenties. Except for the chrome of his round wire-rimmed glasses, Marvin only wore black or white. Black necktie, white short-sleeve dress shirt, black belt, black pants, black socks and black loafers.

It just kept life simpler.

Once the twitching stopped, he released the tension across his arms and shoulders.

“There. See? I told you it’d be over in a minute."

After a heavy sigh, he climbed to his feet with a groan as each knee popped on the way up.

He stretched his arms out, leaned back and looked along the fence of his garden, trying to figure out where the beast snuck in.

“Damned disgusting possums. You're like rats on steroids."

“Possums? I thought they were called O-possums!”

Marvin jerked a look over his shoulder to the gate leading into his garden. It was his granddaughter, Kate, beaming with a big grin as she let herself in.

He looked down at the carcass, then up to her, and his face illuminated into a smile. “How long have you been there, snooping on your dear old grandfather?"

"Just got here, dude. Why’re you talking about opossums?"

Wiping his hands on his pants, he gave the dead body a disgusted tap with his foot. “I found a dead one here in the garden. And they're Possums, my dear, not O-possums."

“Really. So, what happened to the O?"

“I do not know. I suppose they dropped it when they came to America, trying to sound less Irish.”

"What?!" She laughed.

“Oh, how should I know?" He shot her a smile. "Do I look like The Possum Hunter? Now, would you please come over here and help me bury this foul beast.”

Kate shut the gate and found her gloves in the shed by the back door. She pulled her long, curly hair into a ponytail before putting the gloves on.

When Kate was a little girl, she’d always helped him water his plants back here. Back then it was just a small space over by the back door. Now, some twenty something years later, his entire backyard was a rolling landscaped masterpiece of climbing vines, exotic trees and rows of vegetables.

She pulled the shovel out of the shed and navigated her way through the jungle.

When she arrived at the dead possum, she said, “Oh shit! Damn something got a hold of him, like this morning! Look at all that blood!”

He narrowed his eyes, “Language, Kate.”

“Sorry. Wow. You see that? Man, looks like it had a nasty fight with…” she looked around the garden, “Well, with something pretty nasty.”

Marvin shrugged. “Well. It’s dead now. Let’s bury this thing before it starts to rot. Hand me the shovel.”

“S’okay. I got it Marvin.”

“Katelyn Elizabeth Hill. You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Sorry, sorry. I forgot. Where d’you want me to dig?”

He dropped his hands with a sigh. After walking a few steps along the fence, he stopped and said, “Here. Let’s put him here. We can plant something nice over him, come Springtime.”

He backed out of her way and stood with his hands on his hips, watching Kate dig.

This little girl was the joy of his life. She was confident, almost tough, not like some delicate little princess. She had the muscular build of a farmhand, despite growing up in the city. Beautiful, but not emaciated like those models on TV.

While she continued to dig the hole, he checked his hands for any blood and asked, “So, how’s Josie?”

“She’s okay. You’d have to ask her I guess.”

“You guess? What, you didn’t break up already, did you? Kate, come on. I really liked her.”

“Marvin, it’s complicated.”

“Dammit girl stop calling me that.”

“Okay! Jeedy! Sorry.”

“I don’t know if you’re saying my name, or saying ‘G.D.’ as in “God Damn, you’re a pain in my ass.”

“Well…” She smiled at him and pushed a long curl out of her face. “Little of both, I suppose.”

When Kate was born, Marvin hated the idea of being a Grandfather. He was too young for such ancient titles. He didn’t like the name, didn’t like what it implied. So he’d suggested “GD”, short for Granddad.

Kate’s parents didn’t like it because GD was also a polite shortcut for “God damn”. However, he’d already started teaching Kate to say it, so it stuck. To Kate, his name was “Jeedy”, the original initials long forgotten. When she returned from college, Kate felt awkward calling him that name, so she started calling him Marvin instead. He loathed it and called her out on it ever time she tried.

“Is the hole deep enough? Jesus, why do you bury the dead varmints out in your garden?”

“They fertilize the plants.” He chuckled. “And I believe it’s a fitting revenge, if you ask me. They wanted to eat my garden, and now, they feed it.”

He put on rawhide gloves and took the shovel. He poked the bottom of the hole and said, “Go a little deeper, we need at least six inches of dirt between the recently deceased and fresh air.”

She cautiously pushed the shovel further down. She'd made the mistake once before of digging up one of his dead animals. It was a nasty experience.

Finally he said, “That looks good. Okay”

He picked up the possum by the tail, brought it back over and slung it into the hole. Then, he swept the dirt over the body with rawhide gloves that were so old a few of his fingers poked through the fingertips.

“Damn, Jeedy, why don’t you let me get you some new gloves? You know, they finally cut the price down from $500, so it’s okay to splurge. Hey, nowadays they even sell ‘em two-for-one sometimes!”

“I happen to like my gloves, smart ass.” He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers. “These gloves have seen me through thick and thin. Thick and thin.”

Once he’d pushed enough dirt into the hole, she helped him up. Even with his old-man hunch, Marvin was well over six feet tall. He wiped his gloves off on his pants, and took the shovel from her to pat the dirt down.

Kate laughed and tapped the shovel with her foot. “You love your ancient tools, Jeedy. What is it? You like the way the red paint is barely visible on the handle now? Or is rust your favorite color?” He sheepishly grinned at her.

“I’m telling you, Jeedy, I could head to the hardware store and pick up a new shovel and gloves for you. Hell, I bet they even have some boots to replace those scruffy, duct-tape-covered things you wear!”

He was glaring at her.

“Uh, no offense I mean.”

He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. “Little girl, I love my stuff. There’s no need to buy more junk. I’ve had these tools for as long as I’ve had this house. That’s, what, fifty —“

“Fifty five years” she finished his sentence.

He laughed. “That’s right. Fifty five They’ve lasted forever.” He tapped her shoulder with the back of his hand. “Just like you! I’m not going to go replacing you, because you don’t work as hard as you used to, right?”

He removed the gloves and wiped off the dirt he’d left on her shoulder. “Now look, next week I want you to come over and help me get the place ready for winter. You think you can do that?”

“No problem. Now with Josie gone, I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Good! Oh — and dear — I’m sorry about Josie. She was good for you.”

Kate pulled off her gloves and knocked the dirt off on her pants.

“I guess it kind of just ran its course. And, you know, it didn’t help with dad giving me those looks the whole time.”

“Hah. What does that fool know about love?” Marvin threw the shovel and his gloves into the wheelbarrow, and they headed to the back porch.

“You think you’ll be over tonight for dinner? Dad’s calling out for a pizza. Made from scratch just like always!”

He shook his head. “Sorry, my dear, not tonight.”

Kate chuckled. “You’ve got a date? You old freak!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Come on inside, let’s clean up.”

“What about tomorrow night then?”

“Tomorrow night’s fine. I’ll be there. And hey, ask your overworked father if he remembers my phone number, and would it hurt to dial me occasionally?”

“I tell him, every time.”

A single rain drop landed on his bare scalp. “Ah hah! We’d better wrap this up. Careful now dear, don’t slip in the mud.”

—

After they finished cleaning up, Marvin asked Kate to give him a lift to the town square. It was less than half a mile away, but uphill all the way.

“I just need a minute to change into a clean shirt.”

When he came out in a black tie and white short-sleeved shirt, Kate laughed.

“Do you even own anything other than white shirts and black slacks?”

He lifted up the tie. “Simplify the things that do not matter. It’s a great rule to live by. You should try it.” He checked his watch. “Let’s get going, it’s almost seven.”