Dear readers, I’ve been taking a hiatus from my blog to work on improving of sentence structure and to do developmental editing for some of my books. I can’t afford a professional editor, so I’m employing a free extension, that helps me along the way.

I’ve also been working on some new books, including a new mystery that is my first sequel…

Some of you may have read my thriller, Step, Turn, Murder, about detective Michael James Romanoff.

I have updated the cover of that book:

Below, is an excerpt from the sequel in progress, Peril:

Here is the working cover:

Here is chapter one of the book:

Staycation

He was lying on a collapsible blue canvas chair, sipping a tangy iced tea with a chunk of fresh mango. The rays of our sun baked his ordinarily pale skin a nice sandy brown color. His tan had gotten so dark that he broke out in white spots from exposure.

Hopefully, it was not a melanoma, but he wasn’t that paranoid about it. He was still young and seldom lay out in Prospect Park in the heat of July. Although the climate was humid and not ideal, their financial situation meant they had to make do with a low-cost holiday.

The lady beside him was an even darker shade, but the color of her flesh did not rely on the summer rays as she was already exquisitely brown-skinned. However, she was born in Great Britain and wasn’t used to all this sun either.

Aside from the prevailing mugginess, their cheap staycation was going pretty well and had all the elements of success.

一

Romanoff’s only adversary was the dark cloud of financial insolvency. His past health issues were now under control, but his negative bent was a harder nut to crack. Sherry was usually content, but always felt the need to create and to perform, so idling in the sun with a book and a nonalcoholic drink was not her best fit. Still, she made do.

They had been married for six months, and in his mind, the honeymoon was not over, but he was worried about the money situation.  

Sherry had some family assets they didn’t want to mess with yet, and even since the loan shark Cardenillo had his wages from the detective, Romanoff had possessed a grip of cash. But that was over a year ago.

Since then, there was a pricey wedding, and New York living was fabulously expensive. Not being great with money, Romanoff had misjudged his budget, and after he bought his apartment and moved Sherry in, and after their spectacular honeymoon in Europe, they were pinching pennies again.

Sherry was terrific with money, but Romanoff wanted to control it. They finished ‌their day with a conversation about it; she had waited for weeks to talk to him on this subject… 

“So where did the money from Edgerton go?” She asked.

“I don’t know. Mostly the apartment.” Romanoff replied.
“We never really talked about this before,” she said.

“What do you want me to do?” Was he going to lose control?

Sherry spoke gently.

“Do you mind if I handle it?”

“You want to take care of the bills and the income?” He clenched his jaw. 

“Is that bad?” she asked. 

“No, it’s just that I’ve always run my own accounts, expenses and everything.”

She winced.
“Okay.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay.”

This frustrated her. They had never disagreed on anything important. Was this the bad part of being yoked together? She’d witnessed it in other marriages, but with Romanoff she hadn’t seen this coming. Maybe it was inevitable; the honeymoon was winding up. 

The sun crept over the trees. Sherry shuddered.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Do you think we should pack it in?”

“… Sure.” She looked cold and tired to Romanoff. That she felt defeated didn’t help, but she wouldn’t tell him that; not yet.

He folded their chairs and deposited them in nylon canvas tubes. She collected their trash and what not and put the usable items in a wicker basket, and they walked tiredly to Grand Army Plaza.

Trudging down the steps of the old IRT station, they waited for the number 2 train. 

They were both tired, but aside from their disagreement, the day had not been a total loss. The weather had held most of the day; the humidity was not at its worst, and they’d gotten to decompress from the bustle of the city; Prospect Park had been a success. 

Sherry had classes the next day, but Romanoff was not working, and as they made it onto the train that whooshed into the station, they were grateful to have two seats together.

They tried to remain alert, but each nodded off involuntarily, jerking to attention every few minutes. Fortunately, no one tried to bother them. In fact, most of the other riders were in the same position at the end of a long day in the big city. The train whirred on through the evening like a weary dream, shadows shifting from station to station.

一

When they got home it was dark, and she told Romanoff she was heading off to bed early, and said he should fix his own dinner. He made a peanut butter sandwich on toasted rye with honey, and ate it with some wheat thins and a small apple. He was tired too, but missing a meal was not his style. 

Romanoff thought about their finances while he ate; he wondered what to do. If he kept control of the money, he’d feel secure, but he might alienate his bride. If he gave her the money tasks, he’d be out of the loop. Neither option was desirable. 

He looked at the bills on his work desk, and after a lot of futile pondering, padded to the medicine cabinet to stave off the crushing headache that was developing aggressively in his frontal lobe.

(end of excerpt)

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