Mystery / Suspense / Private Detective
Date Published: July 23, 2015
"The Devil lives here … and what he manufactures
is an illusion … covered by lies.”
is an illusion … covered by lies.”
CURT
SAVAGE found the girl of his dreams. Only problem is she’s dead. It falls on
him to solve her murder, but someone doesn’t want to be found.
The
Curt Savage Mysteries are part detective and part conspiracy. The cases could be
ripped from the today's headlines
The stakes are raised as the conspiracy revolving around the
abduction of Amy Weissman explodes in unexpected directions. Savage and his
cohorts strategize on locating the monster responsible for the heinous crime,
but the rekindling of a liaison opens up an opportunity for Savage to do some
investigating of his own. The death of a pop superstar prompts his sister to
become suspicious. She’s convinced her brother was murdered and enlists Savage
to help prove her case. Savage is all too willing, especially since it means
becoming more involved with his Fallen Angel.
SAVAGE WINTER is the third part of this four-part series. Going
from former cop to private dick, he represents a new kind of detective--the
reluctant kind. As his best bud Mike puts it, "Private investigation just
got Savage."
EXCERPT
The minute I entered
the lobby of Wild Dog Inc., I knew I’d entered another world. With lots of
creatives running around, there were “the suits” interspersed in the colorful
mix. The suits kept order and prevented chaos from melting down the smoothly
running beehive that churned out hits.
I received a guest
pass that I’d keep for always and forever. Pasting it on the lapel … oh, that’s
right … I didn’t have a lapel on my polo shirt. Let me start again. Pasting it
over the embroidered alligator, I got in a high-speed elevator. I was aware of
the hidden camera keeping an eye on me and wondered what people do in elevators
that cause such security. Not owning a billion-dollar complex kept me from
securing an answer.
Just in case
something was misconstrued, I kept my hands to myself and left the posteriors
of fellow passengers alone. It was an “accost free” zone. Even without the sign
with the red X over a pair of sticky hands, I got the message.
“Mr. Savage, please
follow me. Mr. Hendricks is expecting you.”
The ravishing young
girl at the big empty desk put on a pleasant face. Smiling was so yesterday, so
I took what I could out of the minute change in her bored expression. Her
large, white desk was bare—and we’re talking naked. With not even a pen in
sight, there had to be a closetful of gnomes answering phones and taking
messages. It left the assistant to the high-powered record exec time to groom,
which most likely included pumicing those heels shoved in the expensive mules.
No dead skin on this starchild.
“Curt!”
The beaming welcome
left me stunned. Charisma wasn’t exclusive to his artists because Phil had me
believing he was actually happy to see me. While erroneous, it was a nice
thought.
“Thank you so much
for seeing me, Mr. Hendricks.”
“Please, call me
Phil. Would you like coffee or tea? I can have Reisha get it for you.”
Reisha. If I ever had an assistant, she’d be named
Reisha.
“Coffee would be
great. Add in cream and sugar and it’d be ideal.”
“Reisha, coffee for
both of us,” he said, speaking into the intercom before switching his attention
to me. “Please, over here.”
I sat at the corner
table indicated and gazed out at the view. When you’re this high up in the sky,
you can’t see the ugly. The fifty-six floors put quite a lot of distance
between me and the grunge on the sidewalk.
“As you know, Dakota
Lowell has asked me to look into the circumstances surrounding her brother’s
death.”
“I understand.” His
face etched with concern; was he really upset or simply feigning compassion? I
thought back to the greeting and had doubts. “It was dreadful … just dreadful.
I can see why she doesn’t want to let go, but everything was very
straightforward.
“The truth is that
Crayton was into drugs. I’d tried, we’d all tried, to get him into rehab, but
he refused. I don’t need to tell you, that with all his success, he could push
the problems away and there was nothing any of us could do about it. His
manager, Charles Beaton, even tried an intervention, but Crayton wouldn’t
budge.”
“And why do you think
that is, Phil?”
“I subscribe to the
theory of there being too many skeletons in his closet, if you know what I
mean.”
I didn’t, but Reisha
interrupted the flow and put my questions on hold. I didn’t want to rush her,
but, man, her mincing in those heels meant it took forever for her to get lost
“What secrets were
you referring to?” I asked as I spooned in the appropriate amount of sweetener.
“The physical abuse
for one, but I suspect there was more to things than that. Every time I tried
to touch on what was really bothering him, he refused to talk, but refusing to
talk means there’s something to talk about. That’s why I have my suspicions.”
“And what might those
be?” I inquired before taking my first sip.
“I think it was
related to Dakota’s allegations about her father.”
“You know about
that?”
“Yes. I was close
with the family and, well, the charges surfaced.”
“How?”
“Crayton confided in
me. It helped to explain the rift that developed out of the blue, but it wasn’t
out of the blue. Abuse is, and was, a serious matter, and the accusations quite
naturally changed so many dynamics of his relationships.”
“Are you saying that
because Crayton believed her, it affected him?”
“It was more than
that,” he remarked as he stirred in a chocolate-flavored creamer. The dark
syrup blended in as a thought bubbled up from the coffee’s depths.
“I think I got it.
You believe Crayton was also molested. It’s why he was so certain she was telling
the truth and why he was so messed up. Am I right?”
After a quick
appraisal, he nodded.
“Something like that.
And he was messed up. He had these horrible nightmares. It’s what first got him
hooked on that crap he was taking; he couldn’t sleep without sedation. Then he
needed something to wake up and then something to even out his moods. I’m sure
you can appreciate that I am human. I’m only saying this because some people
can’t fathom that I am.”
It was my turn to eye
him. Was he? Those lizard eyes cast doubt.
~ * ~
REVIEW
Exciting,
Suspenseful, Intense!!!
Music superstar Crayton Lowell has died. While police
ruled his overdose accidental, his sister Dakota suspects foul play. Curt
Savage is hired to discover the truth, and with billions of dollars at stake,
there’s a lot riding on the outcome of his investigation. Savage digs in,
peering behind the glitz and glamour of the music biz. What he finds is the
scummy underbelly where deals are struck and lives are ruined. Along the way,
we learn all the tricks and meet all the tricksters who offer Savage this
advice: “The Devil lives here … and what he manufactures is an illusion …
covered by lies.”
This is SAVAGE WINTER, the third in the Curt Savage
Mysteries and the best one yet. Exciting, suspenseful, intriguing, this book is
cleverly-written and entertaining. I was completely blown away by the plot and
characters. It’s totally original and unlike anything I’ve read before. This
series has me hooked!
The City of Angels is the perfect backdrop for this tale
of greed and wanton desire. The locale gives Savage the opportunity to
reconnect with Sophia, and things quickly heat up. The scenes with her are
smokin’ hot with just the right amount of sizzle. The Amy Weissman
investigation is still on Savage’s mind, and the twists in that case are
mindboggling! That’s all I’m gonna say! Oh, except you will never guess what
happens! Never! Our favorite conspiracy theorist Blanchard is on the hand
offering his brand of crazy as more clues about Ruth Warwick’s murder emerge.
What Savage finds is disturbing, but not as disturbing as a warning from Dr.
Shadows. “You’re trusting the wrong person again, and it’s going to cost you
dearly.”
Truth? Fact? Fantasy? It’s up to Savage to find out. The
writing is taut and the action doesn’t stop. This story doesn’t twist as much
as writhe, so be prepared to hang on for dear life. The characters introduced
are complex and so believable that I found myself wanting to hug a few—and slap
many others. There’s so much packed into these pages, but the storyline … it
speeds to a climax that will knock your socks off! I did not see that coming …
did not!
My recommendation is to download this series ... and
we’re talking immediately. If you love mysteries, treat yourself to this suspense-filled
thriller!!! Five stars to this superb outing from Ruth Bainbridge! Lord, this
woman can write!
AUTHOR BIO
Ruth Bainbridge was
born in the idyllic, sleepy town of Ithaca, NY, and has been a lover of
mysteries for her entire life. Ever since she was a child, she’s consumed
detective stories at regular intervals, becoming enamored with all the
superstars of crime. She loved matching wits (and still does) with Hercule
Poirot, Miss Marple, Thomas Pitt, Lord Peter Wimsey, Richard Jury and Edward X
Delaney. In fact, she was so inspired by their brilliance that she began trying
to emulate her writing idol's achievements by composing her own short stories.
However, life interfered with her plans of becoming the next hopeful to try a
life of crime--on paper at least. She devoted myself to her marriage and the
raising of four delicious, sometimes obedient children. But the empty nest
syndrome happened and gave her the impetus to return to her first love--murder.
The Curt Savage Mysteries
are the first series out. She is feverishly working on Murder Most Fowl, an
Alex Trout Mystery, and Deadspeak, a paranormal detective series. To keep up
with all that's happening, please join her newsletter.
bit.ly/rbainbridgemailinglist
Contact Information
Twitter: @Ruth_Mysteries
Purchase Links
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1pvs8Ml
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/savage-winter-ruth-bainbridge/1123047453;jsessionid=70FAE6D11B3B7EC615FC5FE9858FB3A0.prodny_store01-atgap08?ean=2940152316209
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