ISBN: 0985726776 •
ISBN-13: 9780985726775
Pub. Date: January 11, 2013 •
Pub. Date: January 11, 2013 •
Trade Paperback/Kindle • $13.99 (Print)/$0.99
(EBook)
The Past Comes Back with a Blast
In Blast from the Past, Mac
Faraday finds himself up to his eyeballs in mobsters and federal agents.
After an attempted hit ends badly with two of his men dead, mobster
Tommy Cruze arrives in Spencer, Maryland, to personally supervise the execution
of the witness responsible for putting him behind bars—Archie Monday!
Mac Faraday believes he has his work cut out for him in protecting his
lady love from one of the most dangerous leaders in organized crime; but when
bodies start dropping in his lakeshore resort town of Spencer, Maryland, things
may be hotter than even he can handle.
In this fourth installment in the Mac Faraday
Mysteries, readers learn more about Archie Monday’s past in a flash—as in a gun
fight when the syndicate comes to town. “Readers love to be surprised,” mystery
author Lauren Carr says. “In Blast from
the Past, they are going to be surprised to discover the secret of Archie
Monday’s past, which threatens her and Mac’s future.”
Blast from the
Past also takes the
Mac Faraday Mysteries to a new level as his relationship with Archie Monday
moves onto a whole new level. “I do listen to readers,” Carr explains. “They
have been clamoring for Mac and Archie to get together for three books.”
What about Gnarly, Mac Faraday’s canine inheritance—the only
German shepherd to be dishonorably discharged from the United States Army?
“It’s not a Mac Faraday Mystery without Gnarly,” Carr promises. “Let’s just say
Gnarly kicks things up a notch in his own way.”
Available through: CreateSpace, Ingram, Baker & Taylor,
Barnesandnoble.com,
Amazon.com, and Everywhere Fine Books are SoldMy Review:
Well, Lauren Carr has done it again, but I think she out did
herself this time. This was my favorite
Mac Faraday novel yet. As always there
were so many twists and turns in this novel that I felt I was on one of the
roads in Deep Creek Lake. Filled with
the same great characters, plus some new ones, this book really hit me in my
heart. Of course, Gnarly always steals
the show, but in this book he ends up with a “best friend”. This story gives you a glimpse of what it’s
like to be in the Federal Witness Protection Program. When Mac finds out that Archie is in the
program, he of course, has to go on the case to solve the murders. He and David end up having to solve more than
one.
Like I said, this was my favorite Mac Faraday novel
yet. Great job Lauren, please keep up
the good work.
I received a complimentary copy of this book for my honest
review.
About the
Author
Lauren Carr is the author of the Mac Faraday Mysteries, which takes
place in Deep Creek Lake, Maryland. It’s
Murder, My Son, Old Loves Die Hard, and Shades
of Murder, have all been getting rave reviews from readers and reviewers. Blast from the Past is the fourth
installment in the Mac Faraday Mystery series.
Also receiving rave reviews, Dead
on Ice, released
September 1012, introduced a new series entitled Lovers in Crime, which
features prosecutor Joshua Thornton with homicide detective Cameron Gates. The
second book in this series, Real Murder
will be released Spring 2013.
Blast
from the Past
Book
Excerpt
Spencer, Maryland – Deep Creek
Lake – Present Day
“Gnarly,
it’s time for to go to your appointment.”
Lovely
in her soft grey Chanel suit, rose-colored blouse, and stylish pumps,
Archie Monday, assistant to the late Robin Spencer, hurried up the
stairs to the second floor of Spencer Manor and down the hallway to
the master suite. The rose leather clutch bag under her arm was a
perfect match for the fedora she wore over her pixie-styled blonde
hair.
“Gnarly,
are you in here?” She threw open the double doors to find the
German shepherd sitting in the suite’s bathroom doorway. “There
you are. It’s time to go.” She gestured for the dog to come to
her.
Instead
of obeying his favorite human, Gnarly whined and turned his attention
back to the happenings inside the other room.
“Go
where?” Mac Faraday called out to her from the bathroom.
She
crossed the width of the suite to peer in at him. The sight that
greeted her wasn’t what she had expected from the son of Robin
Spencer, whose roots were as blue-blood as they come.
The
clichéd appearance of a wealthy man calls for him to be tall, dark,
and handsome—maybe ruggedly handsome—and at the very least,
well-groomed. A man of wealth is best able to achieve this
requirement by hiring others—like plumbers—to do the dirty work.
Two
years after his inheritance allowed him to retire from his career as
a homicide detective, Mac Faraday had chosen to ignore that rule.
His
middle-class upbringing had a different rule: If you can do it
yourself—no matter how dirty the job—it’s a waste of money to
hire someone else to do it for you.
Determination
had drawn Mac’s handsome face into a scowl. His blue eyes were
narrowed into slits focused on the toilet in which he was plunging
away. Water splashed upwards to spill over the sides and drenched the
lower half of his sweatpants down to his bare feet.
Even
in this less than glamorous setting, Archie did find his arm and
chest muscles, bulging from the workout, appealing. When Mac yanked
the plunger up from out of the toilet, in the process splattering the
water across his firm stomach and down the front of his pants, she
reconsidered that assessment. Maybe not that appealing after all.
She asked, “What are you doing?”
“What
does it look like?”
“Why?”
“It’s
stopped up.” He shook the dripping plunger in Gnarly’s direction.
“And I have a feeling I know who did it.”
Uttering
a whine, Gnarly moved to hide behind Archie’s legs.
She
jumped to the shepherd’s defense. “Why are you blaming Gnarly? He
doesn’t use the toilet. You’re the only one who uses this
toilet.”
“You’ve
used it.” Mac reminded her of her frequent nights spent with him in
the master suite. “Maybe I should blame you.”
She
folded her arms across her bosom. “I wouldn’t go there if I were
you.”
“That’s
why I’m blaming Gnarly.” He again pointed the plunger at the dog.
“Look at him. Do you see that guilty expression on his face? He’s
done something, and I suspect it has to do with this toilet.”
“Even
if he did drop something into it, how did he flush it?” She
giggled. “Mac, he’s a dog.”
The
phone on the bed stand rang before Mac could come up with a response.
“Answer that, will you?” He returned to his plunging.
“I
need to take Gnarly to the groomer,” she called in to him while
trotting to the king-sized bed that they had been sharing.
Mac
Faraday had inherited the mansion from Robin Spencer, who, as an
unwed teenager, had given him up at birth. However, his late mother
had stipulated that her research assistant and editor, Archie Monday,
was permitted to live in the stone guest cottage tucked away in the
rose garden for as long as she wanted.
The
beautiful green-eyed blonde had come with the house, and Mac Faraday
was in no hurry for her to move out … nor was she in any hurry to
leave.
Spencer’s
police chief David O’Callaghan didn’t sound his usual jovial self
when Archie answered the phone. After a quick hello, he asked for
Mac.
“David,
you sound terrible,” she observed.
“My
weekend’s been shot,” he replied. “One of my cruisers was
stolen last night.”
“Are
you serious?”
Mac
came into the bathroom doorway. “What’s wrong?”
She
told him, “One of David’s police cruisers got stolen.”
David
told her the reason for his call. “Tell Mac that I’m going to
miss the game this afternoon. I need to fill out a ton of reports and
find out how someone was able to break into our garage to steal a
police cruiser.” He added, “Our guys are going to be the laughing
stock of the state for this.”
In
Archie’s other ear, Mac was asking, “Does he need any help
finding the scum who stole it?”
“It
was probably some bored teenagers pulling a prank,” she told them
both.
“Committing
a felony doesn’t make for a very good prank,” they told her in
unison.
Seeing
the time on the alarm clock on the bed stand, she announced, “Gnarly
and I are late.” She handed the phone to Mac.
“Where
are you taking Gnarly?” he asked her.
“To
the groomer,” she said. “It’s the first Saturday of the month.”
“What
does that have to do with it?”
“Mac?”
David called to him from the phone.
“Gnarly
has a standing appointment for the first Saturday of the month,”
she said with her hands on her hips. “Ten-thirty with Misty. He
gets the works.”
“What’s
‘the works’?”
“Mac,
are you there?” David asked him.
Archie
ticked off each item on her fingers. “Shampoo, deep conditioner,
teeth cleaning, toenails clipped, aromatherapy—they’re having a
special today on strawberries and champagne—and—and this is
Gnarly’s favorite—a deep body massage.”
Gnarly
pawed at her hand.
“For
a dog?” Mac’s voice went up in pitch.
“Dogs
need pampering, too.”
“How
much is all this going to cost?” Mac asked.
“Only
two-hundred and twenty-five dollars.”
“Only
two hundred and twenty-five dollars?” Mac objected. “I don’t
spend that much a year on my own hair, and I’m a human.”
“And
you look like it.” She kissed him. “I have to go. Misty is very
popular. She will only hold Gnarly’s appointment for ten minutes.
Once I was late, and she gave his appointment to a chow. Gnarly was
in a snit the whole next week until Misty was able to fit him in.”
Gnarly
uttered a whine mixed with a bark before charging down the stairs.
Archie tucked her handbag under her arm and hurried after him.
With
a shake of his head, Mac sat down onto the bed and brought the phone
to his ear. “Dave …” All he heard from the other end of the
line was a dial tone.
* * * * *
Gnarly
loved riding in Archie’s royal blue Escalade. Mac would always
order him to the back seat, which the German shepherd would ignore.
Not so with Archie. When riding with his favorite lady, he was
invited to ride shotgun in the front passenger seat and stick his
head up through the sun roof when the feeling struck him to do so.
After
climbing into the SUV, Archie noticed that the bangs of her shortly
cropped blonde hair were curling funnily. That would not look good at
the book club luncheon at the Spencer Inn, for which she was already
running late. While the automatic garage door went up, she licked her
fingertips and finger combed it.
Gnarly
pawed at her arm to urge her to get moving.
“Sorry,
Gnarl, I can fix them later at the Inn.” She put the car into gear
and backed out of the garage, which housed Mac’s black SUV and red
Dodge Viper. The last stall was still home to Robin Spencer’s
yellow classic 1934 Bentley Park Ward convertible, which the late
author had rarely driven. Mac had yet to drive it. He was afraid of
wrecking it.
In
the heart of Maryland, the cedar and stone home, known as Spencer
Manor, rested at the end of the most expensive piece of real estate
in the resort area of Deep Creek Lake. The peninsula housed a
half-dozen lake houses that grew in size and grandeur along the
stretch of Spencer Court. The road ended at the stone pillars marking
the multi-million dollar estate that had been the birthplace and home
of the late Robin Spencer, one of the world’s most famous authors.
Along
the stretch of Spencer Point, Archie waved to the Schweitzers, who
lived in the last house before crossing over the bridge, and then
turned right onto Spencer Lane, which took her around the lakeshore.
She noticed the Spencer police cruiser fall in behind her after she
made the turn.
With
her eye on the speedometer, she eased her foot on the gas to stay
under forty-five miles per hour. With the other eye, she glanced at
the black and gold SUV through the rearview mirror. She squinted in
an effort to see who was driving.
It
wasn’t Deputy Chief Art Bogart. He had his own cruiser. David was
still at the station. Any of the dozen officers on the police force
would have waved to her when she drove past.
I
have a bad feeling about this… who’s that in the passenger seat?
The
alarm inside her head kicked up the tempo a notch. The Spencer police
department did not operate in teams. The force was too small. Each
officer had his own cruiser and patrolled alone. If backup was needed
in the small resort town, another officer would be only a few minutes
away.
Something’s
not right—not right at all.
The
blue lights flashed on in the cruiser behind her.
“We
have company, Gnarly.” She eased her SUV over to the side of the
road. Through the trees on the right, she could see that the lake was
tranquil. Most of the residents of Spencer were still waking up and
starting their day. Across the road, the woods and trails led up the
mountain on which rested the Spencer Inn, another part of Mac
Faraday’s inheritance.
In
her side and rearview mirror, Archie watched the two men with silver
police shields pinned to their uniforms, dark glasses, and hats, get
out of the cruiser. She could see by the fit of their shirts that
they were wearing amour vests.
Gnarly
looked over his shoulder and growled.
“Easy,
Gnarly.”
While
the driver approached Archie’s side, his partner came up along the
rear passenger side. They were both wearing utility belts with guns,
batons, and radios.
With
her right hand, Archie reached into her clutch bag that she always
kept tucked in between her seat and the hand break.
The
driver reached around behind his back.
“Down,
Gnarly.”
Gnarly
lay down in the seat.
When
she saw the butt of the gun come out from behind his back, Archie,
her eyes on the target in her side rearview mirror, fired three shots
from her pink handgun, engraved with The Pink Lady across the
muzzle, over her left shoulder. The first shot took out the rear
driver’s side window before ripping through the gun man’s neck.
The other two went through his head before he hit the ground.
In
one movement, Archie threw her right arm around to fire out the rear
window at the partner who only managed to get one shot before she hit
him in the lower neck. Her second shot went through his head.
The
world seemed to stop.
Breathing
hard, she clutched the gun and stared in the rearview mirror for any
sign that they were still alive and would try again.
The
next thing she was aware of was Gnarly clawing at her. When she
didn’t respond, he licked her face. She had no idea of how long she
had been sitting there.
“Oh,
my!” She heard someone yell.
Archie
opened up the car door and stepped out.
A
car filled with tourists had driven up to the scene. Seeing the woman
in a Chanel suit holding a pink handgun and standing over two dead
police officers next to a cruiser that still had its blue lights on,
they immediately became hysterical. The tires burned leather on the
road when the car sped away.
After
checking out the two men, Gnarly, assured that they were dead, came
back to sit in front of Archie. His big brown eyes were questioning.
What just happened here?
Archie
knelt down and took the paw he offered her. “Well, Gnarly, it’s a
long story.”
Interview with Tracy:
