Woohoo Darynda Jones
Fans! I’m excited to host the next stop in the Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet
Blog Tour!! Thanks
to Darynda and her awesome Gimlet Street Team, I have an excerpt featuring
Charley and Ubie.
Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet excerpt!!!
With renewed
energy, I pulled back onto Academy— after hitting a
drive- through for a mocha latte—
and had just started for home when
my phone rang.
“Yes?” I
said, illegally talking on the phone while driving within the
city limits. Scoping for cops, I
waited for Uncle Bob to stop talking to
whomever he was talking to and get
back to me.
My uncle
Bob, or Ubie as I most often referred to him, was a detective
for APD, and I helped him on cases
from time to time. He knew I
could see the departed and used
that to his advantage. Not that I could
blame him.
“Get that
to her, then call the ME ay- sap.”
“Okay,” I
said, “but I’m not sure what calling the medical examiner
ay- sap is going to accomplish.
I’m pretty sure his name is George.”
“Oh, hey,
Charley.”
“Hey, Uncle
Bob. What’s up?”
“Are you
driving?”
“No.”
“Have you
heard anything?”
Our
conversations often went like this. Uncle Bob with his random
questions. Me with my trying to
come up with answers just as random.
Not that I had to try very hard.
“I heard that Tiff any Gorham, a girl I
knew in grade school, still stuff
s her bra. But that’s just a rumor.”
“About the
case,” he said through clenched teeth. I could tell his teeth
were clenched because his words
were suddenly forced. That meant he
was frustrated. Too bad I had no
idea what he was talking about.
“I wasn’t
aware that we had a case.”
“Oh, didn’t
Cookie call you?”
“She called
me a doody- head once.”
“About the
case.” His teeth were totally clenched again.
“We have a
case?”
But I’d
lost him. He was talking to another officer. Or a detective. Or
a hooker, depending on his
location and accessibility to cash. Though I
doubted he would tell a hooker to
check the status of the DOA’s autopsy
report. Unless he was way kinkier
than I’d ever given him credit for.
I found his calling me only to
talk to other people very challenging.
“I’ll call
you right back,” he said. No idea to whom.
The call
disconnected as I sat at a light, wondering what guacamole
would look like if avocados were
orange.
I finally
shifted my attention to the dead kid in my backseat. He had
shoulder- length blond hair and
bright blue eyes and looked somewhere
between fifteen and seventeen.
“You come
here often?” I asked him, but my phone rang before he
could say anything. That was okay.
He had a vacant stare, so I doubted
he would have answered me anyway.
“Sorry
about that,” Uncle Bob said. “Do you want to discuss the
case?”
“We have a
case?” I said again, perking up.
“How are
you?”
He asked me
that every time he called now. “Peachy. Am I the case? If
so, I can solve this puppy in
about three seconds. I’m heading down San
Mateo toward Central in a cherry
red Jeep Wrangler with a questionable
exhaust system.”
“Charley.”
“Hurry,
before I get away!”
New
York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Darynda Jones has won numerous
awards for her work including a prestigious Golden Heart®, a RITA®, and a
Daphne du Maurier. As a born storyteller, she grew up spinning tales of dashing
damsels and heroes in distress for any unfortunate soul who happened by,
annoying man and beast alike. Darynda lives in the Land of Enchantment,
also known as New Mexico, with her husband and two beautiful sons, the Mighty,
Mighty Jones Boys.
Now the Blog Tour Giveaway! Up for grabs is one copy of Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet!
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