Some writers never catch a break.
Nicholas Burr is one of those writers. His only publications are as a
ghostwriter for a dead man’s children’s series. His paychecks are slender, his
life is in a rut and his marriage is beyond repair. So he decides to write a
book no one can refuse, a “How to Kill Your Wife” story. Three days after he
submits it to his publisher, Burr’s wife disappears.
Soon the police are involved. Did
he really kill his wife to get his book into print? Would someone like Nicholas
Burr go to such lengths, hoping that the payoff of a bestseller might just be
worth the risk? Could he really be that
desperate? Could such desperate times really lead to ‘Desperate Measures’?
DESPERATE MEASURES EXCERPT
Nicky limped slowly
down the block, trying not to think about his wife. It was no use. She had
every reason to be disappointed. He entered O'Brien's bar and took a stool at
the far end of the counter. Reed O'Brien slid a mug of beer before him without
waiting for Nicky to speak.
"Somebody steal your dog?" Reed asked.
"Worse. I got some bad news and Camille isn't
taking it too well."
Reed lit a cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke at
the ceiling fan. He watched it rotate for a minute before commenting. "Who
died?"
Nicky smiled in spite of himself. "I did.
Actually, my book did."
Reed raised an eyebrow. "One of the Skipper
books? My kids will be pissed."
Nicky shook his head. "This was something else.
I call it Double Cross. It was an adult book."
A smile split Reed’s face. “You wrote a dirty book
with lots of sex and wild parties?”
Nicky couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Not
pornography you idiot, this was for a more mature audience than Skipper.
It was a murder mystery.”
"Camille was counting on this to be the one,
huh?"
Nicky nodded. "We met in college. She was
struggling in an English class, and I tutored her. Camille was attempting to
earn her business degree, and I was going to set the literary world on its
ear."
"How long has it been?"
"Almost ten years."
Reed put out his cigarette while Nicky drank his
beer. "She been carrying you?"
"I had to drop out of school before I got my
degree. No money and no chance for a student loan. I was going to enter the
army, but I didn't pass the physical." Nicky pointed at his bad leg and
shrugged. "Only work I can find is minimum wage stuff."
Reed shook his head sympathetically. "What kind
of work does she do?"
Nicky took another sip. "Account manager at
McKay Products. She started out as a secretary and worked her way up the
ladder."
"Decent job?"
Nicky nodded. "There's a little travel involved
and she spends a lot of time visiting clients. The hours can get a bit long,
but she's good at it. They pay her well."
"But you haven't been holding up your end of
the bargain?" Reed waved over a waitress for a cup of coffee.
"The Skipper series is nice, but the money's
not much. I always dreamed of having my own books in print. That may never
happen if I can't break through the publishers’ slush piles."
"So what are you going to do? Give up? Start buying lottery tickets?"
Reed lit another cigarette.
Nicky grimaced and waved away the smoke. "I'm going to write a book people will
fight over. And Camille's going to help me. She just doesn’t know it yet."
Reed noticed the sudden intensity in his friend’s
eyes. He had been about to make a wisecrack, but something in Nicky’s manner
suggested this wasn’t a good idea.
Instead, Reed raised his mug of coffee in a salute. "Good
luck."
*
* *
Camille was in her office when Nicky showed up.
Camille's new secretary discreetly knocked on her door.
"Nicky! Whatever are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd take you out for dinner. We need
to talk." He looked terrible. A week's worth of stubble adorned his cheeks
and chin. His clothes were rumpled. Camille wondered when the last time was
that he had gotten any sleep.
"I have to work late. It's the end of the
quarter and I need to make sure everything is up to date on my
accounts." His sudden arrival and
his appearance were unnerving.
"I finished it, Camille."
"What?"
"I finished the book. It's on its way right
now, express delivery to Pete Corrigan. He'll get it first thing in the
morning."
"Really, Nicky..."
"I know, Camille, I know. It's an extra expense
to send it that way, rather than just emailing him, but Pete will go crazy when
he reads it. Let’s go celebrate."
"Now isn't a good time, Nicky. I can't just
drop everything to go with you." She lowered her eyes to her desk, hoping
he'd take the hint and leave.
"There aren't any good times anymore, are
there, Camille? No good times left for you and me." He limped toward her,
slowly dragging his leg. His disability had gotten progressively worse in the
last few months.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't bullshit me, Camille. You haven't been
coming home before midnight. And don't lie and say you're working late. I've
called. You weren't at work." His voice became louder. Camille could see
other employees lingering outside her door. She was unaccustomed to so much
attention.
"Lower your voice, Nicholas," she said
sternly.
"Admit it," he yelled. "Or are you
going to lie about having an affair?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Bullshit! We both know you weren't here."
Camille's voice was barely audible. "I was
working."
He pretended not to hear. "What about your
clothes? The torn pantyhose, the soiled panties and the pair practically ripped
in two? What about them?"
"You searched through my clothes?"
Nicholas Burr
swept the papers off her blotter and leaned across it, his hands clutching the
edges of the desk. "I examined what was left of them. He must be some
kinky bastard. Does that get you off, Camille?"
"Get out," she hissed.
"What does he do? Tie you up with your own
pantyhose for a round of slap and tickle?"
"I want you out of here right now!"
He pushed away from the desk. In the doorway, a
dozen people had gathered. He glanced at them then turned back to Camille.
"It's not over."
Camille struggled to her feet. "Yes it is. I
want a divorce, Nicky. I should have done it a long time ago."
Two men who had been watching the confrontation from
the doorway finally came to Camille's assistance. Together they dragged him
away.
"You'll never get a divorce, Camille. I'll kill
you before I agree to one."
Mark is giving away an e-book copy of Devious from Secret Cravings Publishing and an e-book copy of a self-published book, Desperate Measures. Two lucky people will be win. Make a comment to be entered. Follow Mark for more chances.
Author’s bio: Mark Love
Yes, my name really is Mark Love. I am a Michigan native, who
up until recently lived in the metropolitan Detroit area, where crime and
corruption always seem to be at the top of everyone’s news. So there are no
shortage of opportunities to find something that can trigger a story idea and
enough interesting characters to jump start your imagination.
While I have worked in many industries and career paths over
the years, one of my passions has always been writing. I was able to parlay
that passion for a while, working as a freelance reporter for a couple of
newspapers in the Detroit area. Writing features and hard news helped me hone
my talents. But while newspaper work was interesting and paid a few bills, it
was a far cry from the fiction writing that I enjoy the most.
I’ve always been drawn to mysteries and thrillers, the kind
of stories that have a fast pace that keep you moving and keep you guessing as
to what’s going to take place next. Mix those in with some elements of crime,
perhaps a glimpse of the seedier side and you’ve got me. So it’s always been
one of my goals to write stories like that.
Currently I have two self-published mystery novels on Amazon,
“Fade Away” and “Desperate Measures”. I also have two Jamie Richmond mysteries
with Sweet Cravings Publishing, “Devious” and “Vanishing Act”. While it is a
kick to have these available as E-books now, it’s the achievement of a long
goal to see my stories available in paperback.
Here's where you can find Mark.
