Tag Archives: mystery

The Lonely, Silvery Rain

Otter & Osprey Press, a mainstream, Canadian publishing house (a division of Northern Forest Publishing), has released a second edition of my novel, The Lonely, Silvery Rain, to bookstores and online retailers. It’s available in both print and e-book formats, including Kindle.

This book is the thirteenth in my Maggie Keiller/Derek Sloan crime series, and the first to be offered by a Canadian publisher. As a crime-fiction novel, some of the portrayed events and language are intended for an adult audience…..but the story, as one editor commented, is kickass!

Set against a background of reconciliation efforts between government and the fictional Odishkwaagamii First Nation, a gripping story of betrayal and murder unfolds in Port Huntington, a small resort town on Georgian Bay. Vandalism, extortion, and violence are unleashed in the community as a number of personal grievances boil to the surface. 

In 2018, the Ontario Superior Court of Justice awarded ten billion dollars to twenty-one First Nations in a vast area along the north shore of Lake Huron, to be paid equally by Canadian and Ontario governments. The settlement is compensation for unpaid annuities to those affected First Nations, annuities that were mandatory under the still-valid 1850 Robinson-Huron Treaty, whose terms committed the government to paying the affected First Nations annual stipends tied to actual resource revenues on their sovereign lands.

Over the years, billions of dollars in profits were extracted from First Nations lands for mining, timber, and fishing enterprises in Ontario, but the obligatory annual payments to First Nations were adjusted only once, thus depriving generations of First Nations people of revenues to which they were entitled.

Under the terms of the settlement, the Robinson Huron Treaty Litigation Committee, composed of Indigenous representatives, was tasked with determining how, and in what amounts, the funds would be distributed to the affected First Nations. While this story is a work of fiction, it is rooted in the very real question of how that money ought to be used. For the Odishkwaagamii, these debates boil over into deception and bloodshed.

Maggie Keiller and Derek Sloan are inextricably caught up in the turmoil, and it is only through their personal integrity and courage that they navigate the chaos.  Determined as always to defend their Port Huntington community, and themselves, they work to ensure justice will prevail.

This safe, universal link will afford you a preview of the story, and direct access to your preferred online retailer—

https://geni.us/thelonelysilveryrain

After publishing my books through Lulu Press since 2007, an American print-on-demand firm, I’m thrilled that a Canadian publisher has picked up my work, and I encourage you to take a look at their website—

https://www.northernforestpublishing.com/homepage

I hope you’ll explore the link to my book, which I believe you will enjoy. Other titles in the Maggie Keiller/Derek Sloan series may be found at this safe link—

https://www.lulu.com/spotlight/precept

That Was That!

The following piece is my response to a prompt for the Florida Weekly 2025 writing contest, to write a story no more than 750 words, about the accompanying photo of an old car abandoned in the woods.

“Nosiree!  I plumb don’t b’lieve that, Jed!”  A trail of acrid smoke rose into the cool, autumn air from the pipe clenched in the old man’s mouth.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Ezra, it’s the honest-to-Jehosophat truth.  My daddy tol’ me hisself afore he passed.  That there vee-hicle’s been rottin’ in the woods since you an’ me was puppies!”

“Yessir, that part’s true, but all’s I can say ‘bout t’other part is your pappy was mistook!  That vee-hicle was built in Dee-troit city in the 1940s, ‘bout the time you an’ me come into the world.  Bonnie an’ Clyde was killed by revenooers back in the dirty-thirties, so no way they was gallivantin’ ‘round in that vee-hicle!”

The old men were rocking in ancient chairs on the decrepit porch of Jed’s cabin, a jug of homebrew on the floor between them.  Idly watching leaves fluttering to the ground in the gentle breeze, they were chewing over a favorite topic of conversation in their backwoods community.

Jed took a deep draw on his own pipe.  “Well, if’n you’re so sure ‘bout that, what’s your story?  How else could that ol’ wreck come to roost in the middle of the woods?”

“Way I heard it,” Ezra opined, wiping his mouth after a swig from the jar, “some city-slicker come to town drivin’ ‘er, an’ he run afoul of ol’ man Jackson.”

“Sheriff Jackson?” Jed asked, reaching for the jug.  “Ol’ Hick’ry?  He was a mean ‘un, so’s I ever heard.  Not a boy to fool with!”

“My ol’ man thought so,” Ezra nodded, banging his pipe against the side of his chair.  Watching the dottle fall to the wooden floor, he waited a moment to ensure it was extinguished.  “Daddy got hisself locked up more’n once by that boy.”

“Yeah, my ol’ man, too!” Jed said with a toothless grin.  “But what ‘bout that there city-boy?  What happened to him?”

“You ever looked inside that vee-hicle?” Ezra asked.

“Nosiree!” Jed declared.  “Laid eyes on ‘er once or twice through the trees while huntin’, but never wanted to get close.  Word is, she’s haunted!  Way I heard it, Bonnie an’ Clyde is still inside!”

“Bullcrap!” Ezra exclaimed.  “I already tol’ ya, they was dead an’ gone afore that vee-hicle ever rolled off the Dee-troit line!  But you’re right, she is haunted, sure as I’m sittin’ here!  Way I heard it, that city-slicker’s still inside, sittin’ behind the wheel big as life…only dead as a doornail.”

“What in tarnation happened to him?”

“Like I said, he got hisself mixed up with Ol’ Hick’ry.  Folks say it was over messin’ with the ol’ man’s daughter, if mem’ry serves.  My daddy said she was a right pretty gal.”

“Messin’ with her?” Jed echoed, taking another swallow.  “Messin’ how?”

“Not sure,” Ezra shrugged as he repacked his pipe with low-country, natural Virginia.  Striking a match on the side of the rocker, he puffed deeply a few times, then finished, “But she was a right pretty gal, like I said.”

“Don’t ‘member her,” Jed said.  “Sounds like I mighta missed somethin’.”

“Nah, she was way older’n us, Jed.  When her an’ that city-boy was mixin’ it up, you an’ me woulda still been pullin’ girls’ pigtails in grade school.”

“I only got to grade eight,” Jed said, “but by cracky, I was pullin’ more’n pigtails by then!”

The lifelong friends laughed at that, then sat in silence for several minutes, puffing and drinking contentedly, happy in the autumnal forest they’d never left.

“You really think that city-boy’s still in that vee-hicle?” Jed asked finally.  “Be nothin’ much left by now, if’n he is.”

“Hard to say,” Ezra replied.  “I ‘spect all’s we’d find if we was to go lookin’ is a pile of old bones, maybe a skull grinnin’ at us.  But don’t matter, nohow.  My ol’ bones ain’t gonna skedaddle that far, not no more.”

“I hear ya,” Jed agreed.  “But listen, what happened to Ol’ Hick’ry’s daughter?  Where’d she get to?  Maybe she’s out there in the vee-hicle with him.”

“Dunno,” Ezra said, brushing a fly from his forehead.  “All’s I know is Bonnie an’ Clyde ain’t out there.  Not ‘less they rose up from the dead like Laserman…that guy in the Bible!”

“You sure?” Jed said.

“Yessiree!” Ezra said, smacking the arm of his chair.  “An’ I’ll tell ya why.  That there vee-hicle out there’s a Stoodiebaker, but Bonnie an’ Clyde drove ‘emselves a Dodger!”

And that was that!

The Landlord

The prompt from my weekly writers group in Florida was to write a piece focusing on an aspect of character development. This post is an excerpt from a chapter in one of my novels, ‘Delayed Penalty’. Can you discern the personalities of these two characters from their conversation?

“Yeah, she lives here.  What’s this all ‘bout?  She in trouble?”  Dicky Lister was slouched in the doorway to the landlord’s apartment, a beer can in his hand.

“When did you last see her?” Detective Billie Radford asked.

Scratching his head, Lister said, “I dunno.  Coupla days ago, maybe.  Me an’ the tenants don’t exchange Christmas gifts, y’know.”  Radford noticed flakes of dandruff on his shoulders as he scratched his hair.

“Did you happen to see her sometime on the twenty-fourth, Christmas Eve?”

“Yeah, I guess, but early on.  Me an’ Lizzie don’t hang up our stockin’s for Santa together, neither,” he smirked knowingly.  “Wouldn’t of minded, though.”

“Her name is Lissa,” Radford said, “not Lizzie.  She’s been missing since Christmas Day, and I’d like to see her room.  I need you to let me in.”

Lister drew back a step, took a swig from the can.  “Nah, I can’t do that, Detective.  I got a key an’ all, but I never go in somebody’s room if they ain’t ‘round.”

Radford smiled disarmingly.  “Oh, I’m sure you don’t, Mr. Lister.  But it’s very important that I check her room, and I’m asking you once more, politely, to open it for me.  Otherwise, I can come back with a warrant, and in that case, we’ll make a point of searching the entire building.  That will be a lot more aggravation for you, I can assure you.”  As she spoke, she made a point of turning to look up at the ceiling in the hallway behind her.

“Whatta you lookin’ at?”

“Nothing really, and that’s a problem!  I don’t see smoke-alarms or sprinkler-heads in the corridor, which, as I’m sure you know, is a violation of code for a rooming-house.  That’s not something I’d normally concern myself with, but I’m wondering if the fire marshal’s office has granted you an exemption for that?”

Lister’s beady eyes narrowed.  “Oh, so you’re gonna report me for that?  You friggin’ lady-cops, man!  You got nothin’ better to do?”

“I do have something better to do,” Radford said, still smiling.  “I have to write a report about my visit here today, but if I don’t have a look at Lissa’s room, I won’t have anything to report.  So in that case, I suppose I’ll have to report the code violations.”

“You friggin’ cops!” Lister hissed again.  “Always makin’ trouble for us little guys.  Wait here a second ‘til I get the key.”  He closed the door unceremoniously in her face.

As she waited, Radford sent a text to the fire marshal’s office about the violations.

“Only thing worse’n a real cop is a lady-cop!” Lister sniffed a few moments later on the way to Lissa’s room.  As they passed through what passed for a front vestibule, he tossed his empty beer can on top of an overflowing garbage can.

Once he had the door unlocked, Radford said, “Thank you, Mr. Lister.  I’ll let you know when I’m finished here.”

After she closed the door on him, Lister offered a middle-digit salute before stamping back to his apartment to fetch another beer.  “Cops suck!” he yelled, knowing she’d be able to hear him through the paper-thin walls.  “You better not report me!  An’ I’m gonna tell Lizzie a cop was goin’ through her stuff!”

Ignoring his threats, Radford did a cursory walk-through of the bedroom and bathroom, saw nothing out of the ordinary for a young woman living on her own.  A more thorough search of her closet, dresser, and bedside table also yielded nothing of much interest.  The only curious thing that caught her eye was a black bra in the top drawer of the dresser—curious because it was flecked with what looked like…dandruff.

Yeah, he never visits tenants’ rooms when they’re out!  The pervert!

After taking a picture without disturbing anything, Radford put on a pair of plastic gloves and placed the bra in a plastic evidence-bag.  

On her way out, she taped two strips of yellow crime-scene tape diagonally across the door to the room, and photographed that, too.  Back in the vestibule, still gloved, she took a picture of Lister’s discarded beer can on the garbage can, then put it inside another evidence-bag.

Might be nothing.  But if the guy lied about never going into tenants’ rooms, maybe he’s lying about Lissa’s whereabouts, too.  We’ll check the DNA.

She didn’t bother to tell Lister she was leaving.

Another Excellent Read!

TEN BILLION DOLLARS AWARDED BY COURTS TO TWENTY-ONE ONTARIO FIRST NATIONS!

In the latest novel in my acclaimed Maggie Keiller/Derek Sloan crime series, the dramatic consequences of this actual treaty settlement unfold in Port Huntington, a small resort town on the shores of Georgian Bay.  And once again, Maggie and Derek become inextricably involved in personal grievances boiling to the surface among various interests, involving vandalism, extortion, violence, and murder.

Be sure to read this exciting story, available now for purchase at—

https://www.lulu.com/spotlight/precept

You will find complete information on my published books by pressing the My Books tab at the top of this page.

As always, thanks for reading my blog, and for your interest in my writing!

The Cannabis Murders

I’m excited to announce that The Cannabis Murders, my eleventh novel in the Maggie Keiller/Derek Sloan crime series, will be released early in February!

The riveting story unfolding in this book is set against a backdrop of rising public concern over the extent of covert Chinese interference in political and corporate affairs in Canada, and across North America.

The story itself is tied to the legal production and distribution of cannabis products, as a global producer with Chinese connections attempts to establish a manufacturing facility near the resort town of Port Huntington on Georgian Bay.  In so doing, the company encounters community opposition, and runs up against Indigenous land-claims to the property in question, both of which throw up major stumbling-blocks to its plans.

To everyone’s dismay, repeated vandalism, threatened extortion, violence, and eventually murder soon follow.  Maggie and Derek become caught up in events through her support of a young, Indigenous woman trapped in the turmoil that follows, and through his involvement as a negotiator for the First Nation land-claims.  And both are drawn further into the mayhem because of their connection to the government’s pending inquiry into the secretive operations of Chinese interests in the area.

Resolute as always to protect their community, and themselves, Maggie and Derek work closely with police to bring the evil perpetrators to justice.

I know you will enjoy this story, and I’ll post notice here when the book becomes available.  In the meantime, the ten earlier novels in this series, together with my eight anthologies of tales, can be found for a free preview or purchase at this safe link—https://www.lulu.com/spotlight/precept

Thanks to all of you who read my blog-posts. If you enjoy them, you are sure to love my books!

Coming Soon!

After The Lake Caught Fire, the eighth novel in my Maggie Keiller/Derek Sloan crime-fiction series, will be published and available for purchase by mid-November.

The pristine shoreline of Georgian Bay north of the Ontario resort town of Port Huntington is threatened by voracious developers planning to build a vacation condominium development.  Several local municipalities and community organizations are opposed to the plans, and the struggle soon becomes acrimonious.

At the same time, environmental testing reveals that the land proposed for development is a toxic wasteland, a result of chemical dumping by a long-ago munitions manufacturing company.  Although the Russian-backed developer is undeterred, the public outcry increases dramatically after several unmarked graves are uncovered at the site of a former Indigenous residential school located on the property. 

When a prominent, outspoken community leader is murdered by persons unknown, Maggie Keiller and Derek Sloan are drawn into the ensuing police investigation.  That alarming murder is shortly followed by two more killings and the abduction of a young girl, frightening the entire district.

As the scandalous involvement of the provincial government in ensuring approval for the development comes under close scrutiny, several players step forward with plans of their own to enrich themselves.  Matters worsen quickly, and Maggie and Derek, immersed in the midst of these fast-unfolding crises, suddenly find they are under attack from the same malign forces.  In order to save themselves and protect the interests of the Port Huntington community, they must use every means at their disposal. 

Like the seven books before it in the series, mayhem and skullduggery abound in After The Lake Caught Fire, a gripping, contemporary story that will hold your interest from start to exciting finish.

In plenty of time for Christmas giving, the book will be available to order by mid-November at this safe link, where the seven previous novels in the series will also be found—

https://www.lulu.com/spotlight/precept