Shell, a beautiful want-to-be starlet goes missing during
the fireworks on the fourth of July. Annie the owner of
Death on Demand mystery book store and her husband Max look
into the disappearance of Shell after her step daughter
asks
Max for help finding her. Shell went missing on the fourth
of July and besides the step daughter no one else is
looking for her. Her husband says she left and good
riddance and her step son won't talk about it and can't
sleep. As they begin to look into Shell's life to find out
if she left or something worse happen to her, they discover
a twisted trail. There is adultery, betrayal, and
blackmail among the wealthy and elite members of the
country club. Now they must set a trap to catch a very
dangerous person.
Annie and Max are wonderful characters that you as the
reader love to be drawn into their world. Every time I
read a Carolyn Hart Death on Demand book I really
wish I
had a book store like that near me. The mayor is an obvious
idiot, the chief of police a good guy that has to deal with
an idiot mayor and the whole island is full of fun quirky
people.
Carolyn Hart always offers the reader many suspects
to pick from and as you read you can eliminate those you
feel need to go and keep the ones you think may be guilty.
Then at the ends of the book you're either pleasantly
surprised or excited you got it right. DEAD, WHITE, AND
BLUE is a great cozy mystery by a great cozy mystery
author.
Bookstore owner Annie Darling’s life is all about murder mysteries: reading them, selling them—and solving them… Summer is a hectic time for Annie and her husband, Max. Sun and scorching temperatures never fail to bring swarms of tourists to their mystery bookstore, Death on Demand, for the latest beach reads. Not to mention the whole island is buzzing with excitement over the upcoming Broward’s Rock Fourth of July dance. Shell Hurst is the kind of woman wives hate—for good reason—and most of them wish she would just disappear. But when she does—last seen walking into the pine trees during the Fourth of July fireworks display—Annie can’t help but feel like someone should be looking for her. Annie and Max are soon following a twisted trail marked by blackmail, betrayal, and adultery, winding from the corridors of the island’s lovely inn to a pier lashed by pelting rain, to a gathering on the terrace of a country club where a trap is set for a calculating killer…
Excerpt
Color spots illuminated the dance floor. Max Darling took pleasure in the ease with which he and Annie moved together in a sinuous tango. As they walk-stepped through a silver spot, he enjoyed the glimpse of her filmy chiffon dress that emphasized the deep true gray of her eyes and the sun streaks in her sandy hair. But he also glimpsed a poignant awareness that their happiness wasn’t shared by all. In a dusky vale between spots, he murmured, “The night is young and so are we. Let it go.” They turned and stepped, turned and stepped. “Honestly, why did he even come?” Annie was looking toward the bar, one area of brightness. Wesley Hurst hunched at one end of the temporary bar. He held a half full glass in his hand. He looked toward the main doorway, his usually affable face drawn and weary. His bow tie was uneven and his red cummerbund looked bunched. Of course, it always helped a guy to have a lovely lady on hand to straighten and admire. “Where is she?” Annie’s cool tone left no doubt about her feelings toward Shell Hurst, Wesley’s current wife. If Wesley’s face foretold the future, Max doubted the marriage would last much longer. “Timing her entrance, of course.” Annie’s nose wrinkled. They half turned together as the band played the haunting and subtly erotic “El Choclo.” “Since when do couples arrive separately? We’ve been here an hour and not a trace of her.” Max grinned. “The better to heighten suspense.” “Why did he dump Vera for her?” Max’s answer was light. “Stupidity.” He spun Annie to his right and her dress swirled and then they were lost in the beat and the rhythm. Annie sat alone, watching the dancers. The other couples at their table were on the dance floor. Max eased around the next table and arrived triumphantly with their drinks. Tonight she’d opted for a Tom Collins. Max always preferred beer and he carried a glass foaming with a Full Sail Amber from a Savannah brewery. Annie smiled her thanks and took a refreshing sip. She was ready to enjoy a quiet moment and savor the evening. She wasn’t sure she liked the colored ceiling spots that left most of the room in semidarkness, including the tables where her lovely centerpieces looked like shadowy clumps. Usually three chandeliers shed creamy light. She liked seeing people’s faces and noticing other women’s dresses. Most of the women chose cocktail dresses or evening slacks with dressy tops, though occasionally a woman appeared in a gown. Annie hummed as the band played “In the Misty Moonlight.” As couples moved near the perimeter of the floor, they passed for a moment beneath a red spot. Elaine Jamison was slender and lovely in a raspberry stretch crepe sheath. She smiled up at Burl Field. They planned a September wedding. Island newcomers Don Thornwall, the retired Navy captain, and his wife, Joyce, seemed equally happy as they whirled by. Maggie and Dave Peterson were next. Annie’s delight in watching the dancers ebbed. It would take time before she forgot Maggie’s strained expression, eyes staring, cheekbones prominent, body rigid in her husband’s embrace. Dave’s heavy face was somber. He seemed oblivious to his wife. His gaze was searching. They danced away into darkness. She had the same thought as when she’d noted Wesley Hurst’s glum face. Why come? What brought unhappy people to a party?
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