On the evening before the Mystery 101 Conference in Fort
Lauderdale, Florida, Maggy Thorsen and her sheriff
boyfriend Jake Pavlik board a train for a pseudo-dinner
theater reenactment of Murder on the Orient Express. It's
billed as MURDER ON THE ORIENT ESPRESSO, serving only
espresso and dessert rather than a full dinner. Jake is one
of the conference speakers, and this excursion is a pre-
conference adventure, planned by the conference organizer
and her assistant. As the guests and actors mix and mingle
and begin the reenactment, infamous book reviewer, Larry
Potter, is missing when it comes time to play his part. The
train stops abruptly on the return trip when the engineer
sees that the track has been washed out by the torrential
rains throughout the trip, but also because of the gruesome
sight just beyond the wash-out. Larry Potter is being eaten
by an African Rock Python that has slithered across the
track. He also has a knife in his back. Now there is a real
murder to solve. Will Jake and Maggy find the killer? With
no cell phone reception or communication on the train, will
they be rescued before the killer murders again?
Sandra Balzo gives us another installment in her
Maggy Thorsen mysteries series. Maggy and Jake are strong,
realistic characters supported by a zany cast of
characters. The sarcasm in the witty dialogue and the eye-
rolling that's described will have you chuckling throughout
MURDER ON THE ORIENT ESPRESSO. It seems as though Maggy
always gets mixed up with Jake\'s investigations of murder
cases. Although Jake is not technically on-duty, he takes
charge of the situation and plunges full speed ahead into
finding the culprit, with Maggy by his side, interjecting
her thoughts and philosophies, wanted or not. Packed with
many interesting facts about the flora and fauna of the
Everglades and South Florida, MURDER ON THE ORIENT ESPRESSO
is a quick, easy read that will certainly delight you.
It's November and Maggy Thorsen, co-owner of the Wisconsin
gourmet coffeehouse, Uncommon Grounds, is in South Florida
at an annual crime-writers' conference with her beau, local
sheriff Jake Pavlik, who is due to speak as a "forensics
expert."
Maggy's pledge to behave solely as a tourist becomes
trickier than she anticipated when the conference's opening
night event turns out to be a re-enactment of Agatha
Christie's classic, Murder on the Orient Express. As Maggy
and Jake reluctantly set off on the night train to the
Everglades to solve the "crime," it's clear that, as in the
original novel, nothing is quite what it seems. And amidst
rumors of careers taken, manuscripts stolen and vows
broken, it seems that in the Everglades – as in life – the
predator all too often becomes the prey.
Excerpt
‘They look normal. In fact,’ I swiveled my head to survey
the people in the South Florida hotel lobby with us, ‘if it
was July instead of November, we could be in Uncommon Grounds.’
Tennis togs, check. Golf shirts, check. Business suits,
check. People with time on their hands and too much money in
their wallets. Check, check.
Even the smells reminded me of my upscale coffeehouse back
home in Brookhills, Wisconsin, though these were emanating
from a small cart near the elevators. To one side of it, a
stylishly dressed, fashionably slim, unnaturally endowed
redhead (check, check, check) seemed to be holding some sort
of planning meeting, the group around her listening
attentively.
All of them were . . . extraordinarily ordinary. ‘Where are
the Edgar Allan Poes with their ravens? The Sherlock
Holmeses wearing their deerstalkers?’
Brookhills County Sheriff Jake Pavlik, my main squeeze –
hell, my only squeeze, since my ex-hubby Ted ran off with
his dental hygienist – looked down at me, blue eyes amused.
‘You were expecting costumes?’
I shrugged. ‘I worked on GenCon when the gaming convention
was in Milwaukee and you wouldn’t believe the outfits. Every
kind of superhero imaginable. People wearing wings and not
much else.’ I sniffed. ‘I don’t even see a Miss Marple or
Hercule Poirot and what would that take? Tweeds and knitting
needles? Some hair wax and a fake mustache? How tough would
any of that be?’
‘Might depend on whether knitting needles or wings are
allowed on airplanes,’ Pavlik said, but he must have heard
the disappointment in my voice. ‘Sorry, Maggy, but Mystery
101 is a crime-writers’ conference for people who want to
write mysteries, not a fan convention for readers. However,
even if it were, I doubt you’d find it resembled a gamers’
event like GenCon.’
The sheriff lowered his voice as the desk clerk signaled for
the next person in line. ‘Though if you’re game, I’d
wouldn’t mind giving the “wings and not much else” idea a
whirl.’
His breath on my neck gave me goose bumps, and I couldn‘t
stifle the moan that rose in my throat just as the
dark-suited woman in front of us turned to gather up her
wheelie. She glanced at Pavlik and me and then skyward, as
if to say, get a room.
Which, in fact, we’d do posthaste just as soon as she moved
her butt toward the registration desk.
While Pavlik had been engaged to speak at the writers'
conference, the whole idea of my tagging along was for us to
spend some time together away from the impending winter
snows and the demands of both his job and mine. Yeah, I
know – county sheriff and coffeehouse owner might seem miles
apart stress-wise, but you’d be surprised.
I twisted around and tangled my fingers in Pavlik’s thick
dark hair. ‘What happens in Fort Lauderdale, stays in Fort
Lauderdale,’ I murmured before bringing his lips down to
meet mine.
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