The Perfect New Year's Eve by Annette Dashofy

The last time Zoe Chambers-Adams had worn a dress was at her wedding almost two years ago. That had been long and white. This one was short and red. And really really tight. 

Clutching a pair of brand-new red heels, she padded barefoot through her living room, pausing to check the mantle clock. Almost eight o’clock. She and her husband, Police Chief Pete Adams, were supposed to be at the New Year’s Eve party by nine. It was a good forty-five-minute drive to the hotel near the Pittsburgh Airport. 

And Pete wasn’t home yet. 

He’d texted her a half hour ago about a traffic collision. Compact car versus deer. The occupants were fine. The car and animal? Not so much. But Pete was helping direct traffic while the tow truck and fire department cleared the road. 

Don’t worry. I’ll be home in plenty of time. 

Zoe dropped onto her cushy sofa, let the shoes hit the floor with a thunk, and reminded herself it was a New Year’s Eve party. As long as they made it by midnight, all would be well. The friends they were meeting knew Pete was a cop and all that meant. And that Zoe was the county coroner, although she’d left the Coroner’s Office in capable hands tonight. She and her husband were rarely on time for anything. 

The crunch of gravel outside brought her to her feet. Good. Pete was home. Unlike the hour or more it took Zoe to get ready for a night out, Pete would be in and out of the shower and fully dressed within fifteen minutes. 

Merlin, one of her two ginger tabbies, streaked through the living room, away from the kitchen. His paws sounded like an elephant pounding up the stairs. Zoe tensed. Merlin would not bolt from Pete arriving home. Whoever had pulled into her driveway was not her husband. 

She moved into the threshold to the kitchen and waited. Footsteps stomped onto the porch followed by a sharp rap at the door. Zoe made out the silhouette through the sheer curtains hanging in the door’s window. A vaguely familiar feminine silhouette. She crossed the kitchen floor and unlocked the deadbolt. 

“Mom?” Zoe said, opening the door. “What are you doing here?” 

Kimberly Jackson burst inside attired in a lightweight trench coat and knee-high fashion boots—suitable for a “chilly” evening in St. Petersburg, Florida, but hardly appropriate for the twenty-two degrees Pennsylvania was experiencing. “My luggage is in the car,” she said. “Bring it in. Please.” 

Zoe leaned outside, looking toward the black luxury rental car parked next to her own Subaru. Looking for her stepfather. “Where’s Tom?” 

“I have no idea and, frankly, I don’t care.” Kimberly stood in the middle of the kitchen, taking in every detail before settling on Zoe. “Where did you get that outfit?” 

Zoe looked down at the form-fitting little red dress. “Online.” 

Kimberly scanned her, then shrugged. “It’s cute.” 

Zoe staggered. “Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?” 

“I’m just overjoyed to see you in something other than jeans and a sweatshirt.” 

And there she was. 

As if to reinforce her identity, Kimberly snapped her fingers. “My luggage. Go.” 

Zoe opened her mouth to argue but another realization struck her. “Luggage? You plan to stay here? In my house?” 

Kimberly sashayed into the living room and stood before the unlit fireplace. “It’s freezing in here. Why don’t you have a fire started?” 

“It’s not freezing.” Zoe followed her mother. “You just have thin Floridian blood. And we never have a fire lit when we aren’t going to be home.” 

“You’re not going to be home? Where are you going?” 

Zoe again looked down at her little red dress. “Uh, Mom, it’s New Year’s Eve. Pete and I are going to a party for county officials.” At Kimberly’s blank stare, Zoe added, “Of which I am one. I’m the coroner. Remember?” 

Her mother fluttered a dismissive hand. “You deal with dead people. Hardly a career worth bragging about. And I don’t think it counts as a county ‘official.’” 

Zoe pressed the heel of her hand into her forehead in an effort to keep her brain from exploding. 

Kimberly was on the move again, heading into the dining room where the staircase led to the second floor. “Nevertheless, you go on to your party. I know where the guest room is.” 

The guest room, which wasn’t made up and contained several pieces of furniture that Zoe and Pete had moved to make room for the tree and other decorations. “I didn’t know you were coming,” she called from the foot of the steps as she watched her mother disappear down the hallway at the top. 

“Bring in my luggage,” Kimberly called down. 

As Zoe backtracked to the kitchen, she calculated options. The nearest hotel was twenty miles away, but there were a couple of bed-and-breakfasts within five. What were the odds they’d have a room available on New Year’s Eve? 

She reached the door, pulled her Muck Boots on over bare feet, and shrugged into her barn coat just in time to see headlights turning into her driveway. 

Pete. 

Zoe stepped onto the porch and waited, pulling her collar up against the stiff winter breeze. The coat didn’t cover her legs, and she wondered how long before unprotected skin developed frostbite in twenty-degree weather? 

Pete parked on the far side of the black rental and was eyeing it as he came around it. He spotted Zoe and pointed. “Whose car is this?” 

“My mother’s. Can you grab her luggage out of it?” 

He stopped cold. Zoe could tell he was asking all the same questions as she had. Unlike her, he didn’t waste his breath putting them into words. Instead, he opened the trunk and dragged out two large suitcases. 

Holy crap. How long was her mother planning to stay? Zoe stepped inside the kitchen, shivered, and picked up her phone. She found Tom’s number and hit the green button. The call went directly to voicemail. Zoe swore. 

“What’s going on?” Pete asked as he banged through the door with the luggage. 

“I wish I knew. Mom showed up without Tom. He’s not answering his phone.” 

“And where is she?” 

“Last I saw, she was on her way to the guest room.” 

Pete’s gaze shifted over Zoe’s shoulder and from his expression, she knew Kimberly was back. 

“You can’t expect me to stay in that room the way it is,” she said before spotting her suitcases. “Oh, good. Thank you, Pete.” She gestured toward the ceiling. “Please take them upstairs.” To Zoe, she said, “And get all that junk out of my room. I hope the sheets are clean.” 

“Yes, they…” 

But Kimberly was ambling away again. 

Zoe looked at her husband. Pete was a cop who faced criminals on a daily basis—who had been shot and nearly died—but who looked utterly shellshocked. 

Kimberly had that effect on people. 

* 

Pete delivered his mother-in-law’s suitcases. What the heck did she have in there? A pair of baby elephants? Bellmen usually received tips for such service. He was ordered to remove the boxes and a pair of tables stored in the guest room. Once he had, the door slammed. 

“Happy New Year,” he grumbled. After shoving the stuff into his and Zoe’s room, he plodded downstairs to find his wife slumped on the sofa, a cat curled up next to her and her phone in hand. 

She looked up. “Tom still isn’t answering. I’ve left messages and texts. Nothing.” 

Pete took a seat beside her, opposite the cat. “You look amazing.” He’d taken notice of the sexy red dress and Zoe’s sexy long legs as soon as he’d gotten home, but the time hadn’t been right to say anything. 

“Thanks.” She sighed. “So much for the party. Maybe next year.” 

“Why? Your mother showed up unannounced.” And uninvited. “She’s a big girl. I’m sure she can manage on her own for the evening.” 

Zoe cocked an eyebrow. “This is Kimberly Jackson we’re talking about. She couldn’t be bothered to bring her own suitcases in from the car. You seriously think it’s safe to leave her alone in our house?” 

“In her defense, the suitcases weigh a ton. Plus…” He held up a finger. “She did manage to save your life during a blizzard a couple of years ago.” He held up another. “And she’s the one who gave us this house.” Granted it had taken months and months and many paychecks to make it livable. 

Zoe considered his words. “I admit, the way she rescued me in Erie during that snowstorm was amazing. And badass.” 

“It earned her a lot of extra brownie points where I’m concerned.” 

“But alone? Here? With no room service and no Tom? I don’t know.” 

Pete wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “I do. I’m going upstairs to get a shower and put on my suit. We might be a little late, but we’ll be there well before midnight.” 

“Okay.” She smiled at him. “While you’re doing that, I’ll keep trying to reach Tom.” 

“Deal.” Pete gave his wife a quick kiss, rose from the sofa, and headed upstairs. 

As he reached the top step, he heard the unmistakable hiss of the shower running. The guest room door was open, and Kimberly wasn’t inside. 

He shook his head. They might be considerably later than he originally thought. 

* 

Zoe had her shoes and good coat arranged next to the door. Pete had let her know he had to wait until Kimberly cleared out of their lone bathroom before he could get his shower. That was almost an hour ago. 

The sound of footsteps on the upstairs floor and muffled voices filtered down to Zoe. She assumed this meant her mother was finally done in the bathroom. After yet another call to Tom went to voicemail, Zoe decided it was time to find out what the heck was going on. Steeling herself, she climbed the staircase. 

The guest room door was closed. She knocked lightly. 

Kimberly, wearing a fuzzy baby-blue robe, had her hair wrapped in a towel. Her face was barren of makeup, leading Zoe to realize she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen her mother bare-faced. She also realized her mother’s eyes were red. She’d been crying.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” 

Kimberly puffed out her chest and lifted her chin. “Nothing. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to be alone.” 

“I do mind.” Zoe brushed past her into the room and turned to face her mother. “You show up unannounced at my house on New Year’s Eve. I feel I deserve an explanation.” 

“There’s nothing to explain.” Kimberly closed the door. “I’m getting a divorce.” 

Zoe’s knees weakened, and she dropped onto the bed. “What? Since when?” 

Kimberly’s shoulders drooped. “Since this morning.” 

This morning? “Okay. What happened?” 

Eyes gleaming, Kimberly crossed to the bed and sat next to Zoe. “Tom doesn’t love me anymore.” 

“He told you that?” 

“Love is a verb.” 

Zoe mulled that one over. It wasn’t the quote—she agreed with it—but the source was another matter. “What did he do? Or not do?” 

“He told me I was a spoiled child.” 

Zoe caught her lower lip between her teeth, biting down a little too hard, to keep from laughing. When she could speak without snickering, she asked, “What made him say that?” 

“He was insisting we go to an intolerably boring party tonight with some of the people he used to work with.” 

“Other than the boring part, what’s wrong with him wanting to go to a party with his friends? You’ve been married for almost thirty years. Surely you’ve spent time with them before.” 

“Exactly. I have. And I did not want to do it again. They were meeting at a restaurant. A casual restaurant.” 

Zoe remained silent. Casual sounded pretty good to her right now. 

Kimberly huffed. “It’s New Year’s Eve. A time to celebrate with Champagne and lobster. Not beer and fish and chips.” 

Which also sounded good to Zoe. 

Kimberly waved a hand at her. “Look at you. My beautiful daughter and her husband know what New Year’s Eve is all about.” She lowered her voice. “That dress is stunning, dear.” 

And yet here Zoe sat, in her guest room, watching her mother sob over life not going her way on this one evening instead of mingling with county politicians at the kind of party Kimberly would love. 

She must have read Zoe’s mind. “I’m keeping you from your night out, aren’t I? I’m sorry.” 

Kimberly rarely noticed or cared about anyone else’s feelings, even Zoe’s. And she never apologized. “It’s okay, Mom.” Zoe draped an arm around Kimberly’s shoulders. “To be honest, I’d rather stay home with you and Pete.” 

“Nonsense. You need to show off those legs.” Kimberly nudged Zoe and offered a hint of a smile. “I’ll be fine here alone.” 

Kimberly’s tone dropped on the word alone, and Zoe wondered if her mother would want to tag along with her and Pete. No one at the party would care. She was about to ask if Kimberly had perchance brought appropriate New Year’s Eve attire with her when the house echoed with a loud rap on the kitchen door downstairs. 

“Who on earth?” Zoe jumped up and padded out into the hall where Pete was coming out of the bathroom wearing his best suit, his salt-and-pepper hair still damp and slicked back. 

“More company?” he asked. 

“I don’t know.” She thumped down the stairs, her husband on her heels. At the kitchen door, she peered through the curtain-covered window before yanking it open. “Tom?” 

Her stepfather stood there, tall and ruggedly handsome as ever. His scowl softened into a smile at the sight of her. “Hi, Sweet Pea. Don’t you look beautiful.” He crossed the threshold and swept her into a hug. Once he released her, he faced Pete and shook his hand. “Clearly, I’ve interrupted a night out for you two.” The scowl returned. “Or, I assume, my wife did. That black car in your driveway is her rental, isn’t it?” 

“It is.” Zoe closed the door. “I’ve been trying to call you.” 

“Ah.” Tom pulled his phone from his coat pocket. “It’s been on airplane mode. I forgot to change it back once we landed.” 

Pete took Tom’s coat and hung it on the hall tree next to the door. “Do you mind telling us what on earth is going on?” 

“I was talking to Mom. She said she left because you wanted to go to a smaller New Year’s Eve party than she did.” Zoe crossed her arms. “I have to think there’s something more.” 

Tom lowered his head. “There is.” His face came up, but his voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t let on that I told you this, but your mother is having trouble coming to terms with…age.” 

Zoe kept her voice low as well. “She doesn’t like getting older? As a coroner, let me tell you, it beats the alternative.” 

Tom grinned, a dimple he’d had in his younger days now lost in a ripple of creases. “I agree. But she has a birthday coming up—a big one—and she’s not handling it well.” 

Zoe did some quick math. “Sixty? But she looks amazing. She could still pass for forty any day of the week.” 

Tom flung both hands up in exasperation. “I’ve told her that. But my desire to have a more relaxed, casual New Year’s Eve this year triggered her into thinking I didn’t want to show her off anymore.” 

Pete mumbled something that Zoe couldn’t hear. 

Her mind started whirling, building on her earlier thought. “I assume you brought luggage.” 

Puzzled, Tom aimed a thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “Just an overnight bag.” 

“So, you don’t have a suit.” 

“No.” 

She glanced from Tom to Pete and back. “You’re about the same size as Pete. Mom has two suitcases that, from the weight of them, must contain half of her wardrobe.” 

“Or they’re packed with bricks,” Pete said. 

“This is Mom, we’re talking about. If anything, they’re gold bars.” 

Tom snorted. 

“Anyway, assuming she has something dressy to wear, and one of Pete’s suits fit you, you’re both going to join us at the county government party.” 

“It’s ten o’clock,” Pete whispered. “By the time they get ready, it’ll be ten-thirty. Another half hour to drive to the hotel…” 

“Half hour to get ready?” Tom said. “Have you met my wife?” 

Pete shrugged. “As long as we get there by midnight, we’ll be fine.” 

* 

Zoe and Pete sat on the couch bookended by orange tabbies. Tom had gone upstairs twenty minutes ago. Raised voices filtered down through the floor to them at first, but for the last ten minutes all was quiet except for the soft thud of footsteps. 

Zoe kept watching the old mantle clock’s hands marking off the time. Making it to the party by midnight seemed optimistic. She would be perfectly happy ringing in the New Year right here—provided she could slip into her pajamas first. 

The footsteps moved to the stairs and started down them. Zoe watched the doorway, expecting to see Kimberly in a ball gown. Twenty minutes, though? That would be a new world record. 

Tom led the way, still wearing the long-sleeve polo shirt and khakis he’d arrived in. Kimberly, wearing an off-white tunic-style sweater over leggings, entered the living room behind him, her blond hair in a ponytail, her face still bare. 

Zoe couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mother like this. She looked young enough to pass for Zoe’s sister instead of her mom. 

“We want to apologize for ruining your New Year’s Eve,” Tom said. 

Kimberly slipped her hand into his. “Let’s be honest. I was the one who ruined your New Year’s Eve.” She looked up at her husband. “Yours too. I’m sorry.” Her focus returned to Zoe and Pete. “I’m sorry to all of you.” 

“No apologies necessary,” Pete said. “But I gather you’ve decided against joining us at the party?” 

“We…I appreciate the offer.” Kimberly lowered her face. “However, we’ve decided we’d rather spend a quiet evening in.” 

Tom cleared his throat. “Provided you two don’t mind putting us up for the night. I’ve booked us a flight home for tomorrow.” 

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Zoe said and meant it. This was a different side of her mother—one she would like to get to know. 

“I don’t think our old bones could tolerate the cold that long,” Tom said with a grin. 

Zoe looked at Pete who gave a nod. “This quiet evening in you mentioned,” she said. “Would you object to some company?” 

“Oh.” Kimberly appeared surprised. “I don’t want you to miss your party.” 

It was Pete’s turn to clear his throat. “I’m pretty sure I speak for both of us when I say we would prefer that quiet evening over a noisy party. We’re both always on call. Tonight, for once we’re covered at our jobs.” 

“You definitely speak for both of us,” Zoe said. 

Kimberly pointed at her. “But your dress. You look so beautiful.” 

Zoe shrugged. “I’ll save it for next year.” 

Pete leaned closer. “It’s red. You could wear it for Valentine’s Day.” 

Kimberly clapped. “Perfect, since that’s also your anniversary.” 

“Then it’s settled.” Zoe stood. “I’m going to put on my pajamas.” 

* 

Zoe snuggled against her husband on one end of the couch while Kimberly and Tom claimed the loveseat. Flames crackled in the fireplace, and the cats occupied the chair closest to it. Above the mantle, the television broadcast Times Square in New York where revelers packed to watch the ball drop. Two minutes until midnight. 

A bottle of Pinot Grigio and four wine glasses—wedding gifts from Kimberly and Tom—waited on a side table. 

“Hadn’t you better pour that?” Kimberly said, pointing. 

“You’re right.” Pete moved to the edge of the seat and reached for the wine. 

Zoe slid forward on the couch as well. “If I’d known this is what we’d be doing, I’d have bought a bottle of Champagne.” 

“Nonsense.” Tom rose and moved to help. “Sometimes simpler is better.” He shot a look at his wife. “Right, darling?” 

Kimberly smirked. “I’ve already admitted you were right. Stop pushing.” 

With the wine poured and glasses in hand, they all stood to watch the countdown. 

“Five…four…three…two…one,” they chanted in unison. “Happy New Year!” 

After clinking glasses and sipping, they exchanged hugs. 

Kimberly held onto Zoe longer than usual. “Thank you,” she whispered to her daughter. 

“For what?” 

Kimberly gently grasped Zoe’s arms, drawing her away but not releasing her. “For letting us have this time together instead of turning me away at the door.” 

“I would never—” 

Kimberly cut her off with a shake of her head. “I know you wouldn’t, but you had every right to. I truly am sorry.” She looked at Tom, who was smiling at them. “Well, maybe not too sorry. To be honest, this is the nicest New Year’s Eve I can remember.” 

“Me too,” Zoe admitted. She held up her glass. “To a quiet, simple New Year for all of us.” 

“Cheers to that,” Tom said as they again clinked. 

Kimberly leaned over and pressed a kiss to Zoe’s cheek. “Happy New Year, Zoe.” 

“Happy New Year, Mom.”

 

The End 

Villains By Annette Dashofy

A few days ago, I had a discussion with a friend about the villains in my fiction. It’s a subject I always quickly warm to. Heck, I even teach a workshop about these bad guys. 

One thing I always keep in mind when creating a villain is that everyone is the hero of their own story, including… and maybe especially… the antagonist. They believe they’re right and the hero is dead wrong. The villain’s goal and that of the hero are in direct conflict. 

Another tidbit I try to remember is that every bad guy needs to have some good in him. On the flip side, every good guy needs to have some bad in them. 

One of the characters from my Zoe Chambers series isn’t a “bad guy” in the true sense of the word. I’m talking about Zoe’s self-absorbed, demanding mother, Kimberly. Readers have told me they love to hate her. Zoe tends to revert to being a teenager when Kimberly’s around. However, Kimberly’s backstory explains and perhaps excuses her behavior. And in Under the Radar (2020), we finally get a glimpse of Kimberly’s protective mother side, as well as a peek at where Zoe’s kickass tendencies came from.

 

The conversation with my friend actually started with a question about Charles Davis, another recurring character in the Zoe series. In this case, the question surrounded his origin story. The truth is, he was supposed to be a one-and-done. I introduced the abrasive, pushy know-it-all in Til Death (2020), which was supposed to be the last of the series. I didn’t come up with a character arc for him until my agent wanted to shop the series to other publishers, which meant coming up with a three-book proposal. Charles, while truly despicable, occasionally showed a glimmer of having some redeeming value. He did, after all, help Zoe get elected as county coroner. Granted, he had his own agenda, but don’t we all?

All of this talk about villains with some smidgeon of good in them has led me to think about the bad guy in my upcoming The Devil Comes Calling (Detective Honeywell #3). I’d set up this character in both of the previous books, although a reader might need to be sharp-eyed to catch the hints. I dare not say more for fear of divulging spoilers. Let’s just say the title is justified. My working title was Beyond Redemption, which also speaks volumes.

Fellow Writers Who Kill, do you delve into your villains’ heads and hearts when you write? Or do you prefer to keep them at a safe distance? And readers, can you name any villains you’ve loved to hate?

 

  

What’s in a Name? by Annette Dashofy

This month, I’ve been deeply focused on the novel I’m working on. I’ve burst out of the muddle in the middle and am feeling the draw of the crescendo pulling me toward the final chapters. As a result, when I realized I needed to write this post, I was drained of ideas. All creative thoughts had gone into the book. So, I went to my Facebook group and asked them what they would like to know. What should I write about in today’s blog? 

And wow. I got a lot of suggestions and questions. If you happen to be a member there, I promise I will answer all of them, but the one I chose for today is a topic I’ve shared in the past. Still, it’s a fun one. 

Donna Alber asked: What’s your inspiration for places and character names? 

For starters, let me say names drive me crazy. It’s a writing “rule” that two characters should not share the same first initial. And I understand. Readers devour pages at such a pace that their brain only registers part of the letters. So having a Susan and a Sharon on the same page can be confusing. I don’t want the reader to have to stop and ask, “What? Who?” But it happens. For one thing, even when I keep track of first initials, there are also last names and town names. Somehow, I managed to miss the fact that I have Wayne Baronick who works in Brunswick. 

I was determined to keep this from happening in the Detective Honeywell series. Well, that determination went down the tubes when Eric, a character from the first book who wasn’t supposed to ever show up again, decided to come to town in the second book and now we have Emma and Eric in Erie. 

Basically, I give up. I mean, I try, but there are only so many letters in the alphabet. When you see a character with the name Quinn or Ulysses, you know I’m desperate. 

But none of this really answers the question. 

Inspiration. Let’s start with my Zoe Chambers series. Pete Adams is named Pete after the man who was our local police chief and a good friend of my dad’s when I was a kid. Adams is the last name of friends of my family. Zoe (don’t tell her) was the name of a cute little dog I once knew, and Chambers is the family name of one of my nieces. Monongahela County doesn’t exist, but the Monongahela River does. It’s also the name of a nearby town. A lot of the fictional locations have some obscure meaning to me, if to no one else. 

In the Detective Honeywell series, I’m more blatant with my character names. Ancestry.com is a rabbit hole I get sucked into from time to time. At one point, I was tracing my maternal grandmother’s lineage and came across my five-times great grandfather, Matthias Honeywell. He fought in the Revolutionary War in New York. All well and good, but all I could think was what a fabulous name! 

In the same series, we have Emma Anderson, who was my maternal grandmother. Emma Nelena Anderson Miller, to be exact. My grandfather lovingly called her Nellie, and most of her friends called her Nell. So, I got two character names from one family member. Emma and her sister, Nell. 

The locations in the Honeywell series are largely real, so inspiration comes from taking a trip to Erie, PA, and driving around the area. A lot of the businesses, especially those where crimes take place, are figments of my imagination. But many are real. Emma lives at Sara’s Campground (real--click the link for a virtual driving tour of the grounds--and I must thank the owners for allowing me to use it) but her campsite is fictional. 

The whole portion of the campground where she lives is made up, so don’t trespass and try to find it. It’s not there. Presque Isle State Park is real. So is the Bicentennial Tower and all of the street names. The Blue Pike Restaurant is fictional (although I wish it was real…in my mind, the food there is amazing). The warehouses mentioned and any businesses I placed in them are fictional. The area used to have warehouses there, but they’ve been razed. 

I’m passing the question on to you writers. Where do you get your inspiration for character names and locations? And to you readers, do locations in the books you read make you want to go there? 

And the big one, how much are you really bothered by names that have the same initials?

  

An Interview with Annette Dashofy by E. B. Davis

 

“It was all perfectly plausible. Yet none of it felt right.”

Annette Dashofy, What Comes Around, Loc. 2694

 

Just as Monongahela County Coroner Zoe Chambers-Adams decides to fire her abrasive chief deputy, Dr. Charles Davis, and put an end to his constant undermining of her position, a suspicious car crash severely injures the county’s only other forensic pathologist. To keep the office operational, Zoe has little choice but to keep Davis on staff.

When Zoe and her husband—Vance Township Police Chief Pete Adams—respond to a brutal homicide, they quickly learn the victim had come to town for the sole purpose of sharing vital information with Zoe. And the decedent’s ex-husband is none other than Zoe’s deputy coroner.

As Zoe and Pete dig deeper into the victim’s past, more questions arise along with a tangle of connections between multiple cases, including a very cold one that leads Zoe and those she cares about directly into the crosshairs of a crazed killer.

Amazon.com

 

 

In What Comes Around, Annette Dashofy has once again created an enthralling and complex mystery. Clear your schedule before you start reading because you’re going to be late to appointments or delay tasks so that you can finish reading. This is a “do not disturb” read.

 

What looks like a bad political situation for Zoe turns into a murder investigation, opens a cold-case, negates a contentious relationship, and begins a tricky situation in Zoe and Pete’s marriage, some of which just may be connected if they can follow the clues.

 

The timing is just days after Hurricane Iona and the horrible Helpless situation in the previous book. And—in case you are wondering—Annette’s titles are apt and apply to many situations her books. I can’t think of a better title.

 

Please welcome WWK’s Annette Dashofy (and hope this time she comes home from Malice with an Agatha)!                                                                                      E. B. Davis

 Why did Zoe offer a job as her deputy to her competitor for the office of Coroner? Even if I used to know the answer, I know I didn’t agree with her decision.

 You aren’t the only one who doesn’t agree! It wasn’t one of her better choices in life. Several books back, Zoe was thrown into the job of county coroner when her predecessor was murdered. Coroner is an elected position and Dr. Charles Davis was gearing up to run against the previous coroner and making a lot of political noise. He offered Zoe a deal: instead of making her battle it out on election day, he would join her as her chief deputy and help her out since even she had to admit she wasn’t ready to take on the task quite so soon. She agreed to that deal with the devil, thinking she was keeping her friends close and her enemy closer. It didn’t take long for her to regret it. 

 

Although gossip has spread Zoe’s and her deputy coroner Dr. Davis’s battles around town, Zoe’s decision to give an interview about the problem seems to start an escalation. Why did she agree to the interview?

 

In the very final pages of Helpless, she was trying to ignore Davis’s insolence, but then she received an email from one of the county commissioners, summoning her into her office. She knew this was Davis’s doing and he had gone too far this time. That snapped her into action, starting with accepting Lauren Sander’s request for an interview.

 

When Pete breaks the news of her death to the victim’s teenage son, Alex, I was surprised that Pete didn’t question Alex more closely. Why didn’t he nail down Alex’s movements right away?

 

He probably should have, but the boy was so obviously devastated, and, combined with the information he provided linking the victim to Zoe, Pete’s focus was on protecting his wife.

 

To my knowledge, this is the first time we meet Max Knight. Is he a colleague of Wayne Baronick’s in the same precinct? Is there a reason you brought him in? Why not just use Wayne?

 

Max is another of the county police detectives, so yes, he’s one of Wayne colleagues. Wayne was already working on the traffic accident at the beginning of the book, so it made sense that the Monongahela County Police would send someone else out to a homicide. I’ve never needed to bring in additional detectives before, but it made sense to me in this case.

 

When Dr. Davis’s ex-wife is found brutally killed, two of her nearest and dearest point the guilty finger at him. While Pete doesn’t doubt Davis could do such a thing, he doesn’t jump to that conclusion. When Davis turns up grievously injured from an apparent suicide though, Pete doubts Davis would commit suicide. Why the plausibility of one situation, but the implausibility of the other? I was surprised Pete didn’t question Juliann Holland (county commissioner) who found Davis clinging to life. Why didn’t you include that scene?

 

The crime happened outside of Pete’s jurisdiction. Wayne asked Pete to come to the crime scene just to get his unofficial input (and because of Zoe’s connection to the victim), but the county police were in charge of the case and had questioned Holland before Pete’s arrival.

 

I know Paulette, Zoe’s secretary, wants to quit, but her timing isn’t very good. She says she wants to wait until Dr. Davis leaves—so why doesn’t she wait until then already?

 

Paulette planned on sticking around to see Zoe fire Davis until things went sideways with Doc Abercrombie. By then Paulette already set out to hire her replacement. She found a likely candidate faster than expected but promised Zoe she’d stick around and train the new secretary. It was her hope that by the time the new hire was ready to take over, Davis would be gone.

 

Even though Zoe is coroner, does she have to have a forensic pathologist do autopsies? What are Zoe’s duties as an elected coroner? Does she have legal parameters?

 

Zoe is responsible for determining cause and manner of death and heads up the death investigations for the coroner’s office, but she isn’t a pathologist, hence she can’t perform the actual autopsy. That’s one of the things Dr. Davis has been harping about. He is a pathologist, so if he was elected coroner, he feels he’d save the county money. But what he really wants is to see the county switch to a Medical Examiner system, which is NOT an elected position. This is a huge debate in real life coroner’s offices all across the country.

 

Does Abby like playing “good cop/bad cop?” She seems more of a researcher.

 

Abby has a lot of IT and computer skills, and she tends to get assigned to the research tasks since she’s one of the younger members of the Vance Township Police Department, but her true love is getting out in the field, and yes, she does enjoy playing good cop/bad cop from time to time.

 

County Commissioner Juliann Holland is in Dr. Davis’s corner. They also seem to have a personal relationship. Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest? Do counties have nonfraternization policies? Holland was appointed, not elected, right?

 

No, Holland is an elected official. And she’s most definitely in Davis’s corner. There is no such policy in Monongahela County government right now, but maybe there should be! An interesting point is that should Davis succeed in having the coroner system switched to a Medical Examiner system, the county commissioners would be his bosses, meaning it would be up to them to hire or fire him. Considering his history with women, he might want to rethink a lot of his choices!

 

Zoe is realistic about her high school experiences. But she did go to one high school reunion. Why did she do that? Why does anyone?

 

The only reason she went to her reunion (Fatal Reunion) was because there was a homicide that had ties to her high school class. She was in investigative mode. That’s the only thing that would get her to attend!

 

Liz and her daughter, Isabella, aren’t very forthright in how they approach Pete and Zoe. They both concoct stories to close in on the two. Liz’s intentions are obvious, but why would Isabelle do such a thing? Pete knows right away she’s lying. Why wouldn’t she demand that her mother tell Pete the truth without the guile?

 

Without giving too much away, Isabella is treading lightly because she fears rejection. She wants to gather all the information she can before making a move.

 

Dr. Patel brooks no nonsense and doesn’t listen to gossip. She sounds like a good mix for Zoe. Will we see more of her in coming books?

 

That’s my intention.

 

What’s next for Zoe and Pete?

 

We’ll all have to wait and see. I have a couple of short stories in mind for them, but I also have a couple of other writing projects that I need to focus on before diving back into the next novel. Stay tuned!

In Search of Inspiration by Annette Dashofy

For the last couple of years, I’ve been frantically racing deadlines. Two series. Two publishers on two different continents. Publisher A doesn’t care what my deadline is with Publisher B and vice versa. Therefore, at one point, I had three months to finish a manuscript and have it ready to turn in. At least, that’s how it looked on paper. Publisher A deadline in November. Publisher B deadline in February. 

(Note: I’m not complaining. I know how many writers out there would give their left arm to have such problems. I know because I used to be one.) 

I acknowledge there are authors who write multiple books a year and for whom three months is a piece of cake. I salute thee. I am not one of those authors. Given my druthers, I’d be in the one-book-per-year category. But my druthers don’t pay the bills. Hence two series, two publishers. 

Anyway, it takes more than three months for me to complete a manuscript. I know that. So I was writing like a fiend for a while, drafting two books at the same time. 

I may have lost my mind a little during that overlap. 

But I digress. 

I met the deadlines. All is well. But after those frantic couple of years, I’m now at a point where I’m writing the last book under contract to Publisher A. And I’ve completed my final edits on the last book under contract to Publisher B. 

The last time this happened, I was even more freaked out than I was while writing two books at the same time. Now what? 

I’m not so freaked out this time. I hope to continue both series. To do that, I need to prepare proposals for the next book in each. I have some time left with Publisher A since I’m only writing the first draft. But I really need to come up with something for Publisher B. “Something” being a detailed synopsis. Emphasis on detailed. 

Certain words strike fear in the hearts of writers everywhere. “Synopsis” is high on that list. 

While I have some good ideas (at least I think they’re good) for secondary threads, I really have no clue what the main plot will be. Hence, I’ve been in search of inspiration. 

And sometimes, inspiration comes in search of me. 

Friday, a week ago, I had one of those days. I had been in my office in the rear of my house, oblivious to the outside world, but when I came up for air and wandered to the kitchen for a snack, I noticed the traffic out front was at a standstill. Plus, there was a fire/rescue truck and a police officer at the end of my driveway. It seems a large tree across the road from us had come down and was completely blocking both lanes. 

I spent the next hour observing as the department of transportation sent a small crew out to cut up and remove the tree, which was leaning over our utility wires (communications, not electric). Finally, traffic was moving again, and I went back to my office. 

When I came back out at suppertime, there it was again! The remainder of the tree, no longer supported by the part that fell earlier, came down and was once more blocking the road. 

Side note: I live on a main route to a concert venue, and there was a big concert that night. 

Concertgoers, not eager to be late, bypassed the tree by driving through my yard. A guy in a pickup got out with a chainsaw and cut what can only be described as a tunnel through the branches to allow one lane of traffic to drive through the downed tree. 

Safe? I don’t think so. I called 911 and the cops and the department of transportation (no fire/rescue this time) came out. I heard several of them utter, “Again???” 

My neighbor came over. We sat on my porch swing and enjoyed our front row seats while the impatient concertgoers idled and fumed. Finally, the road department guys cut up the tree and the show out front was over. 

But my “inspirational” day was not. When I went inside, I thought it seemed unusually hot. That’s when I discovered our heat pump AKA air conditioner had died. When I called for service, they refused to come out because it was after hours on a Friday, and it wasn’t a life-or-death situation. Never mind that I have a service agreement with them. 

Motive for murder? Maybe…fictional, of course. 

The next day, I heard a news report about a police department that had found a bull and were looking for its owners. 

So, I have lots of material to work with here. The only problem is…the synopsis I’m supposed to be writing is for my Detective Honeywell series, which is set in the city of Erie. All of the above is perfect for the next Zoe Chambers Mystery though. I’ve taken notes. 

In the meantime, I’m still in search of inspiration for that next Honeywell book. 

P.S. My new heat pump will be installed this Tuesday. Until then, I’m getting by with a small window AC unit. 

Fellow authors, have you ever had inspiration for a story drop into your lap? Readers, how are you getting by in this summer’s heat?

An Interview with Annette Dashoffy By E. B. Davis

Pete was beginning to feel bruised from all the brick

walls they’d been running into.

Annette Dashofy, Helpless, Kindle Loc. 1975

 

As a massive weather system barrels toward them, Vance Township Police Chief Pete Adams and his wife, County Coroner Zoe Chambers-Adams, soon learn how unprepared they really are. A 911 call reports a dead young mother, her critically injured husband, and their missing seven-year-old daughter. Pete and Zoe realize that as the storm moved north from Louisiana, a mysterious killer came with it.

The wounded and trapped father is Zoe’s friend and blacksmith, and he asks her to stay with him during the rescue efforts. Pete encourages her to oblige, hoping she can uncover clues that might help the investigation. But as attempts to free the victim fail and his condition worsens, Zoe’s questions reveal he doesn’t know why his family was targeted and child kidnapped. Yet he stays alive, hoping for one last glimpse of his little girl.

Pursuing the murderer and the kidnapped child, Pete and his officers battle downed trees, massive flooding, and a widespread loss of communications. They’re isolated with no backup, while facing rising water and impassable roads. The killer faces the same problems, yet somehow stays one step ahead of law enforcement. But he is becoming desperate, and more people are dying because of it.

As two lives hang in the balance, can Pete win the race against time and weather to stop a savage and cunning predator? And will he and Zoe be able to reunite a family before it’s too late?

Amazon.com

If you’ve lived around farms and/or lived in Pennsylvania during Hurricane Agnes as I have, real situations like those Annette Dashofy included in Helpless occur. Real situations that are scary. Pete and Zoe’s helplessness is demonstrated in all the trials they face, real situations that occur like cataclysmic dominos due to one man’s psycho madness during an epic storm, pressure cooking a horrible situation that deteriorates as time ensues.

 

Helpless is a page turner, as Annette’s books usually are, but what is unusual is that it is a suspense, not a mystery. We don’t know whodunit right from the start, but we have a good idea, and then our suspicions become fact. After that—there is not only a countdown against the killer, but also of the child’s safety, the father’s survival, and the storm’s impact and hoped dissipation. Annette has suspense ratcheted up on so many levels, it’s no wonder you turn the page quickly. Readers feel Zoe and Pete’s desperation, their helplessness in trying to end a very bad situation.

 

***

Because Zoe’s horse barn is on high ground, she anticipates boarding horses that are located in low-lying areas, which will flood due to the storm. What is a tie stall?

 

In comparison to a box stall, which is usually 10- or 12-foot square allowing the horse to move around freely, a tie stall is about half as wide. The horse is tied facing the feeder and can’t walk around. It’s not ideal but works in a pinch. And the poor farmers living in low-lying areas were definitely “in a pinch.” As a side note, I live in one of those areas and came very close to having to evacuate my horses once or twice.

 

Zoe must choose between doing her job, attending the county’s dead and performing autopsies, or staying with a gunshot wounded and tractor-trapped father, Danny, who is desperate to get his daughter, Peyton, back from a kidnapper, who thinks he is the child’s father. How does Zoe decide what to do?

 

Her heart desperately wants her to stay. Danny is an old friend. Zoe still misses her old career as a paramedic. But her head insists she fulfill the demands of her new office. However, Danny begs her to stay with him, and Pete feels her talents are better served right there as opposed to being at the morgue.

 

What are the “special circumstances” Pete refers to when asking Zoe to stay with Danny?

 

There are a lot of special circumstances, but the ones Pete cares about involve the increasingly bad weather and the fact that, as a friend, Zoe can talk to Danny and draw out potential clues as to who this mad man is and where he’s taken the little girl.

 

Why does Zoe call in a doctor to assist with Danny’s care?

 

Ideally, Zoe’s paramedic buddies would’ve loaded Danny into the ambulance and taken him to the hospital 20 miles away. But they can’t move him, and his condition is grave. So, Zoe places a call to her old friend, Emergency Department Doctor Fuller (who has appeared in several previous books.) Dr. Fuller is the best where emergency medicine is concerned, and Zoe is grateful he agrees to come.

 

The horrible and shocking situation is that the weight of the tractor keeps Danny from bleeding out, and since he is a strong man, the weight of the tractor hasn’t collapsed his airway. In short, he can talk. To find the madman, Zoe asks Danny how he met his now deceased wife Michelle. Zoe takes pages of notes about how they met to find out more about the victim. What does she uncover that makes Danny’s paternity questionable?

 

Zoe’s questions are aimed at keeping Danny talking with the hope of directing him to a couple of topics he’d refused to discuss earlier. Zoe and Pete are convinced Danny can give them information about who took his daughter that he doesn’t even know he has. Of course, his stories only raise more questions about Danny’s wife’s mysterious past. Zoe is most concerned about the short amount of time between Danny meeting Michelle and marrying her. It’s simple math.

 

What are anti-shock compression trousers, and what do they do?

 

Anti-shock trousers inflate around the lower extremities of a patient, forcing blood upward around vital organs. If a patient has suffered traumatic blood loss and is going into shock, they’re one of the “tools” carried in an ambulance or rescue truck to maintain the patient until they can reach a hospital.

 

When they discover that Michelle, wife of Danny, mother to the kidnapped child, and murder victim, was originally from New Orleans, of course, they call the NOLA police, but because of Hurricane Iona all circuits are busy. The only Catch-22 that didn’t happen appears to be that no one’s car got stalled out in flood waters. What else didn’t go wrong in trying to find the perp?

 

It’s really a cat-and-mouse game throughout the book. The biggest curse and blessing were the rising flood waters. Help couldn’t get to them, but their suspect was as trapped as Pete and his crew. Alas, once the torrential rain started easing off, it meant the killer would be able to escape the area and go literally anywhere.

 

One of Michelle’s friends assumes that Michelle has made a wrong decision based on her own circumstances. That subversion costs Michelle her life, but the friend loses her life, too. Why do people try to take control of situations beyond their boundaries? This aspect of the case was so real, but also so maddening!

 

Good question. Everyone seems to believe they know what’s best without understanding the big picture.

 

What’s a leather keeper?

 

There are lots of variations, such as the loop next to a belt buckle into which you tuck the end of the belt to keep it from flapping. But the ones Pete and practically all law enforcement use have a double loop, one encircling the officer’s regular belt and the second encircling the officer’s duty belt, which holds his side arm, handcuffs, pepper spray, etc. These “keep” the heavy duty belt from sliding down.

 

Nate is a new deputy to Pete and works with him when Seth is released to sandbag his house, which he bought from Pete. Nate’s worried about drowning during a flood because he can’t swim, but the currents are such even seasoned swimmers could drown. Although Nate proves himself, is he also a bit of comic relief?

 

Actually, Nate Williamson has been in every one of the Zoe Chambers Mysteries, but he’s recently moved from being Pete’s weekend officer to being one of the weekday nightshift officers. I had fun showing a vulnerable side to Nate since in past books, he’s been the big scary looking cop who keeps the peace just by his appearance. He’s always been a softy beneath it all but used his appearance to his benefit. This time, we get to see the big guy legitimately scared.

 

Is the 911 system more vulnerable than regular phone numbers?

 

There are lots of safety backup systems to keep something like this from happening, but this was one of those storms no amount of planning could foresee. Overall, any system relying on electricity tends to be more vulnerable than the old landlines. But even those lines come down at times.  

 

During emergencies such as storms with flooding, do emergency operators triage calls? What are the priorities?

 

Oh, absolutely. The priorities are basically the same as any emergency room or disaster scenario triage situation. Category One requires immediate care, which means life-saving measures are needed now. Category Two means “urgent,” which in EMS-speak means non-life-threatening but needs medical attention. I don’t want to use the words “less important,” but basically someone in this situation can wait until the category one patients are stabilized. Category Three means non-urgent. The patient may need attention, but the injuries are minor. What you may not know is that patients who are clearly not going to survive fall into this category as well. In a disaster, medical resources must attempt to save those who can be saved.

 

What does hot shod mean? Does it hurt the horse?

 

It doesn’t hurt at all. A horse’s hoof is made of the same thing as our fingernails. Hot shoeing means the blacksmith uses a forge to heat and shape the horseshoe. With cold shoeing, the blacksmith simply pounds the shoe into shape without the forge. Hot shoeing is generally used for horses that require special shoes due to hoof problems. Also, when a shoe, hot from the forge, is placed on the horse’s foot, it tends to bond better, hence the horse is less likely to throw the shoe. 

 

As the bodies pile up, Pete’s available personnel goes down. Crime scenes need to be guarded until processed, and the storm delays the CSU. This seems so elemental, and yet, until you pointed it out, I hadn’t realized how stretched the police can be. Also, that Amber Alerts can aid the perp rather than the police. Is this when the State police help out?

 

The Pennsylvania State Police help out in lots of cases in rural areas. In fact, it’s one aspect of police work that I tend to “fudge” in my books in order to make Pete and his department more vital to the stories. In reality, the PSP would be doing the bulk of the investigation because small, rural departments simply don’t have the manpower or financial means. Local and state police work together. When there’s an incident around here (and we had a big one recently), I’ll see a local unit or two followed by a couple of state troopers screaming past my house, one after the other.

 

Due to the storm and blood, how many changes of clothes did Pete go through in the one day?

 

Ha! I didn’t count. But he did get soaked a few times!

 

What’s next for Pete and Zoe?

 

The next book picks up a couple days after this one and deals with the fallout from that last chapter. In other words, the long simmering feud between Zoe and Dr. Charles Davis finally comes to a full boil with deadly results.