by Alex Kava
He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for more.
“I recognize that twist of the mouth and the bright red skin, almost cherry red. I’ve only seen this sort of skin discoloration once before but it’s something I’ll never forget. The tissue can’t get any oxygen. It happens quickly. Ten to fifteen minutes.”
“You think he was poisoned?”
Maggie nodded, impressed. The detective from Colorado was sharp.
Karst noticed her look and it was his turn to smile. “I do this for a living, too.”
Then he started looking at the bedding, careful not to touch but bending over and searching the pillows.
“Usually there’s vomit,” he said and started sniffing the linens, now leaning even closer over the dead man. Then Karst’s body stiffened and he stood up straight. “Cyanide.”
“Excuse me?”
“I can smell it,” he said. “Like bitter almonds.”
Maggie came up beside Karst and he stepped back while she bent over the dead man’s face. Only forty to fifty percent of people could smell the aftereffects of cyanide. It was a genetic ability. The scent was faint but she could smell it, too.
“I thought it might be something like that,” she said. “Cyanide stops cells from using oxygen. He would have felt like he was suffocating – a shortness of breath followed by dizziness. Then comes the confusion and possible seizures, bursting the capillaries in the eyes. Last would be cardiac arrest. All in a matter of minutes.”
“Potassium cyanide is a crystal compound.” Karst looked around the room and pointed to the wine bottle. “May have slipped it into the wine. Where does someone get cyanide these days?”
Maggie had to stop and think, retrieve the information from her memory bank. The case she had worked on had happened too many years ago – six young men in a cabin in the woods had chosen to obey their leader and take cyanide capsules rather than be taken into custody. She’d lost a friend that day – a fellow FBI agent – so the memory didn’t come easily. “Potassium cyanide is still used in several industries. Certain kinds of photography,” she finally said. “Some processing of plastics, electroplating and gold plating in jewelry making. If a person buys it on a regular basis for their business it usually doesn’t draw any attention.”
Now she wanted to dismantle the memory and started looking over the room again. She plucked a tissue from its container on the nightstand and gently pressed her covered fingertip against the dead man’s jaw then his neck. “No rigor.”
“So he’s been dead less than twelve hours.”
“Maybe less than six. Rigor sets in more quickly with cyanide poisoning. You said he wasn’t alone?” She turned to see Karst had moved to the desk and was lifting open a folded wallet using the tip of a pen.
“Guy I met at the bar downstairs told me he saw Gruber leave with a blond.”
“The guy who took off as soon as he saw your badge?”
He glanced up at Maggie. “Coincidence?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Me either. I’ll bet he gave me a bogus name. Hell, he probably lied about the blond, too.”
Maggie used the tissue again as she tipped a wastebasket out from under the nightstand. The only thing inside was another tissue, this one crumpled with a blotted stain of bright pink lipstick. She gently lifted it by a corner, pulling it up high enough to show Karst.
“Unless there’s something a little freaky about Dr. Foster, I think your friend might have been telling the truth about the blond.”
“I’ll be damned.”
Maggie took a good look at the stain under the light, then gently placed it back where she had found it. Later she’d point it out to the sheriff’s investigator.
“What did he do?” she asked.
Karst folded his arms and stared at the dead man. “His nurse was two-timing him with a rich ex-patient. He murdered her plus the patient and his wife. Then Gruber set the nurse’s house on fire, hoping to hide all the evidence. He high-tailed it to South America before we could even question him.”
“So there were a few others beside you, looking for him.”
“Not to mention some new enemies. The guy from the bar mentioned something about Gruber being his competition.”
Maggie watched Karst’s face. He was still grinding out the case in his mind. She checked her watch again.
“I’d say you no longer have a case, Detective Karst.”
There was knock at the door followed by, “Sheriff’s department.”
GLEN KARST FOUND himself back down at the hotel’s tiki bar. This time he and Maggie shared one of the high-top tables. He’d asked to buy her a drink and was surprised when the tough, no nonsense FBI agent ordered a Diet Pepsi. He ordered another Buffalo Trace, glancing around to see if Joe Black was somewhere close by, watching again.
The waves had kicked up and the moon had slid over a bit. A breeze almost made the hot, humid air feel good. The beach restaurants and bars were still full but not quite as crowded and noisy as earlier.
“I can’t believe I came all the way down here and the son of a bitch cheated me out of dragging his ass back to Denver. It’s hard to let it go.”
“Sheriff Clayton will do a good job,” Maggie told him. “Anything you can tell him about Gruber will help his investigation.”
Glen rubbed at his eyes, only now remembering how exhausted he was. “I suppose the bastard got what was coming to him.”
“A wise medical examiner once told me, we die as we live.”
“Is that the equivalent of what goes around comes around?”
She smiled and tipped her glass at him, “Touché.”
He raised his glass and was about to take a sip when he saw a woman sidle up to the bar. She looked familiar but he couldn’t place her. Then he realized. Her hair was shorter. She looked much thinner than when he’d met her over a year ago. But he recognized her walk, the way she handled herself.
“Someone you know,” Maggie asked. “Or someone you’d like to know?”
“What? Oh, sorry. No, I think I know her.” He sipped his bourbon and continued to watch out of the corner of his eyes. She was at the bar, ordering drinks and laughing with her friends, three women at a table near the bar.
“Not a blond,” Maggie said as if reading his mind. She sat back and took another look. “Even from this distance I’d say the lipstick’s a match.”
His eyes met Maggie’s. She was thinking exactly what he was thinking.
“No such thing as coincidences, right?” he said.
“It’s no longer your case,” Maggie reminded him. “She wore a wig, probably stole her wineglass and the bottle was wiped down. I checked. They’ll never pull DNA off that tissue.”
“The least I can do is say hello.”
The woman’s back was to Glen when he walked up and leaned on the bar. He ordered another round of drinks and watched, waiting for her to notice him. The glance was subtle at first, almost flirtatious. Then he saw the realization.
“Hello, Mrs. Gruber.”
“Detective.” She kept her body turned away from him and looked for the bartender. “I’m sorry I don’t remember your name.”
But he knew she did remember. He told her anyway, “Glen. Glen Karst. Are you here on vacation?”
“We are. Yes, actually we were until the hurricane.”
“No other reason you chose Pensacola?” His eyes waited for hers. She met his stare and didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. In a split second he thought he could see her confirmation, her admission that she knew exactly what he was talking about, that she knew he was there and what he had found.
Without a blink she said, “Just having some fun and my friends can vouch for that.”
The bartender interrupted with a tray of colorful drinks ready and hovering. Before Mrs. Gruber took them she pulled out a business card from her pocket, hesitated then handed it to Glen.
“I have my own business now,” she told him, taking the tray
and handing the bartender a fifty dollar bill. “Keep the change, sweetie,” she told the young man and without giving Glen another look, she returned to her table and friends.
Glen returned to the high-top with fresh drinks and scooted his chair closer. He placed the business card on the table without looking at it or at Maggie.
“You got lucky. She gave you her number?”
“No, I already have it. What she gave me was a cold shoulder.” Glen said. “That’s Gruber’s ex-wife.”
“I think she may have given you more than that,” Maggie told him and he looked up to see her reading the business card. She handed it to him and immediately Glen knew.
Elaine Gruber had her own business all right. Making fine jewelry and specializing in gold-plating.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Alex Kava is the New York Times bestselling author of the critically acclaimed Maggie O’Dell series. Her stand-alone novel, One False Move, was chosen for the 2006 One Book One Nebraska and her political thriller, Whitewash, made January Magazine’s best thriller of the year list for 2007. Published in twenty-four countries, Kava’s novels have made the bestseller lists in the UK, Australia, Germany, Italy and Poland. She is also one of the featured authors in the anthology Thriller: Stories to Keep You Up All Night, edited by James Patterson and First Thrills, edited by Lee Child. In 2007 she was the recipient of the Mari Sandoz Award presented by the Nebraska Library Association. Kava divides her time between Omaha, Nebraska and Pensacola, Florida. She is a member of International Thriller Writers.
She invites readers to visit her at www.alexkava.com and become a V.I.R. fan (Very Important Reader). See The Official Alex Kava Fan Page on Facebook at www.facebook.com/alexkava.books.
Also by Alex Kava
A Perfect Evil
Split Second
The Soul Catcher
At The Stroke of Madness
One False Move
A Necessary Evil
Whitewash
Exposed
Black Friday
Damaged
Hotwire (coming July 2011)
Patricia A. Bremmer is the author of eight titles in the Elusive Clue Series. Her series is being considered for movies with Red Feather Productions. A stand-alone book, Guided Destiny has already been optioned for a major motion picture. Patricia has also penned the Westie Whispers Collection of picture books for children and is currently writing mysteries for middle grade. Patricia traveled the nation with a stable of thoroughbred racehorses including Miami, Florida where she lived for a short time. She currently resides in western, Nebraska. And, to add to the excitement of her appearances, she frequently includes her real life detective who has become the sleuth in her novels. Together they charm and entertain the crowds. She is a member of Sisters in Crime, The Nebraska Writer’s Guild and International Thriller Writers.
To learn more about Patricia, please visit her website www.patriciabremmer.com and vist her blog, www.patriciabremmerblog.com (A Day in an Author’s Life).
Detective Karst, the sleuth in Patricia A. Bremmer's mystery novels, is best summed up as, “he's the guy next door who’s 50% Bond and 50% Walker.” His charm and charismatic intelligence balance perfectly with his rugged denim appearance while on the back of a horse. His looks, personality, and talent offset his vice... er, love for top shelf bourbon and gourmet cheesecake!
Also by Patricia A. Bremmer
Mysteries:
Tryst With Dolphins
Dolphins’ Echo
Death Foreshadowed
Victim Wanted: Must Have References
Crystal Widow
Clinical Death
Mind Your Manors!
Murder’s A Cinch
Cornstalked
Children’s Books:
The Christmas Westie
Secret of Dragonfly Island
Legend of Arterburn Lake
BONUS SECTION
Behind the Scenes
An excerpt from CLINICAL DEATH by Patricia A. Bremmer
Glen watched her work. Soon Jennifer’s pace quickened as they approached the shop building. She stopped short, turning in a complete circle as her eyes rested on the ground.
“He died here, where I’m standing.”
“That’s right. This is where they found his body. His pickup accidentally rolled onto him while he was checking something underneath it.”
“No, Glen. That’s not correct. Didn’t anyone mention his body was face down when they found him?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m absolutely certain.”
“What else can you tell me?”
“He was not alone when he died.”
“Jennifer, if what you see is accurate then this was no accident.”
Glen ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Right next door to his new home a homicide happened without any hint of an investigation. What kind of trouble would he stir up bringing this to the attention of the local sheriff’s department? Cal told him there hadn’t been a murder in this county in over one hundred years – so much for relaxing at his new country home.
CHARACTER PROFILE: Detective Glen Karst
Name: Glen Karst
Eyes: green
Hair: short, sandy brown
Height: 5’10”
Current residence: Wallace, Colorado
Marital status: divorced from Debbie Karst
Father: Died when Glen was young
Mother: same as father
Pets: Meike and Anke, German shepherds
Partner: Bill Thompson
Favorite food: cheesecake
Favorite beverage: Buffalo Trace Bourbon
A Conversation with Patricia A. Bremmer
How did you come up with the idea of using a real-life detective for your novels? Were you and Detective Glen Karst good friends?
Glen was working on a case concerning charity fraud and the person he was investigating had applied to the charity we were working with. He was the only detective I knew, so I asked him if he would like to read through my police protocol to find inaccuracies. He agreed and I slipped his name onto one of the investigating officers in the story. His eyes twinkled and he smiled when he saw his name in print as a character and it was at that moment I decided to make him the sleuth in my series.
Is the real Karst and the fictional Karst exactly the same? Are you allowed creative license?
The real Karst says he lives vicariously through his character who gets to have cases that are a lot more fun. My character is just a little softer than the real Karst, but other than that, they are almost identical. As long as I don’t discredit his truck or make him look too soft, I can have creative license. But there were some scenes in VICTIM WANTED, that he refused to be a part of. We compromised and I sent a woman to help an abused woman relocate in California, but I held firm to letting him handcuff his writer friend on an airplane making her look like his prisoner. He said he wouldn’t do that in real life, but reluctantly gave in because these are, after all, fictional stories.
What is it about Karst – besides being a hunk – that resonates with readers?
Karst is a real person, in and out of character. He is gentle, loves animals, compassionate, intelligent, fair, a neat freak and he can cook. So aside from chasing bad guys in a macho sort of way, he has the gentleman side. Those qualities allow him to appeal to both the male and female readers. The women want to date him and the men want to be him.
He seems fearless. What would it take to rattle him?
That’s a tough question. I haven’t yet discovered what would rattle the real or fictional character.
And Jennifer Parker? Where did the inspiration for her character come from?
I have a fascination for psychic abilities having a small dose of that myself. I added Jennifer as a psychic Karst was forced to work with on a case just to see what the readers would think of her. She was well received and the readers are always hoping she and Karst will become romantica
lly involved.
Do all your novels take place in Colorado and/or Nebraska? How do you choose your backdrop?
All of my Elusive Clue novels featuring Karst do take place in Colorado, with the exception of CRYSTAL WIDOW, which takes place in both Nebraska and Colorado. I must keep Karst in his own backyard to solve cases to keep it real. He doesn’t have jurisdiction in other areas without special permission. He actually quit his job in CRYSTAL WIDOW to follow his case into Omaha, Nebraska.
You’ve written novels for children and young adults as well as your adult mysteries. How do you come up with ideas for these different audiences?
A mystery is a mystery. Kids love them as much as adults and having nine grandchildren of various ages makes it easy to know what kids want to read. I have the added benefit of writing my grandkids into the books as characters, much like I have with Karst. I do write those under the name P.A. Bremmer to allow readers to know which are for kids and which are for adults. However, most of my adult fans have also read my kid’s books. It’s always fun to revisit your youth in a mystery.
Tell us a bit about your writing process. Do you outline? Write at a desk? Use a computer?
This can be long. No, I do not use an outline. I have a basic plot idea and jot down a few things I might like to see happen in the story. I cannot write in my home. I live in the country and we have an old bunkhouse in the backyard. We converted that into a writing studio. When I know I’m going to write, I set aside a full month and go out to my studio right after breakfast. I don’t allow myself to answer emails, facebook, or make phone calls. My mind has to be free of distractions. When I enter my studio, my characters are there waiting for me. I light a candle, a stick of incense, play one game of solitare and begin writing. I don’t want to leave for the day without having at least 20 or so pages written. The story plays out in my mind like a movie and I watch and type. I do not have internet access there nor do I take a phone.
Biggest influences – who would you say has made the greatest impact on you and your writing?