Bøger af Judi Ciance

James' life was falling apart. How did he allow a sixteen-year-old girl to infiltrate his world? She wanted commitment. It wasn't going to happen. It was Sunday night. He got home in time to grab a beer before the eleven o'clock news. A young girl, yet to be identified, was found lying face down by the edge of the Scenic Highway ... a presumed hit-and-run. He didn't need a name. He'd left no clues that would lead back to him. It was quick and clean ... the way he'd planned it. The name-plate on her desk read, Casey Quinby. She was the head investigative reporter for the Cape Cod Tribune. She worked hand-in-hand with police departments from one end of the Cape to the other. Casey was their 'Kelly Girl' detective. Her boss gave her free rein to work with the cops, fully knowing she'd get the exclusive. She got to play with the POs, and then got paid to write about it. Last Sunday night, there was a hit-and-run on the Bourne Scenic Highway. For some reason, Casey wasn't given clearance to mingle with the cops at the scene. Even her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Sam, suggested she step back from this one. Said he'd get in touch with her in a couple of days. Sam was the chief detective in the Bourne Police Department. Imagine telling a reporter, a nosey one at that, to close her eyes and disappear for a few days. Not going to happen. She knew she had to use her Sherlock Holmes' nose to sniff out well hidden clues - mix them together - and end up with a perfectly assembled table puzzle. EMPTY ROCKER provides the perfect blend of mystery and suspense, coupled with twists and turns, and infused with a bit of romance.

The fifth book in the Casey Quinby Mystery Series. A month passed before I returned to my office in Barnstable Village. My first case as a PI turned into a murder investigation with me right in the middle. My old boss, Chuck Young, assured me my position as head investigative reporter for the Tribune was still open if I wanted to come back to the newspaper. I banished the thought. I walked over to my front window. People living on Cape Cod crave the sand and beach. For me, it's the view of the District Court to the left, Superior Court to the right and the District Attorney's Office straight across the street. The sudden knock on the front door startled me straight off the floor. The sun streamed through the window so brightly, I couldn't make out if the knocker was a man or a woman. I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart, walked over, unlocked and opened the door. "Can I help you?" He looked at me, then up at my shingle. "If you're Casey Quinby, Private Investigator, you can."

Casey Quinby, head investigative reporter for the Cape Cod Tribune had worked with the Barnstable Police Department on their cold case backlog in the past, generating a high success rate in uncovering new details allowing the PD to reopen several cases. When she expressed an interest in working on another cold case, the Chief jumped at the chance for her to examine the Mary Kaye Griffin murder file. Chief Lowe was a personal friend of Mary Kaye's and was haunted by the lack of evidence gathered to solve her murder. Against his approval, but because of department policy, it had been classified a cold case five years ago. According to the reports in the evidence box, the husband, Brian Griffin, made the 911 call from their home to report the murder. When the police responded to the 42 Shady Brook Lane address, he was nowhere to be found ... vanished into thin air. He immediately became the primary person of interest. The investigation that ensued didn't produce any evidence implying anyone other than the husband. A dead end case filed in the bowels of the police station was about to resurface. Bones ... boats ... and bullets come together to create a strange trio.

Her name was Jeni Johnson, but only he knew that. He had plans for her-just like he'd had plans for the other three. They'd each enjoyed their last night in their quest to move to the top of the social ladder. He gave them a taste, but that was all. They had to die. And there would be more. He was on a mission. His plan was flawless. He'd designed and thought out every detail, down to the black rose-the living symbol of death in a relationship. This time of the year, Revere Beach Boulevard was quiet. The beach crowd who would bake in the sand by day and party by night were still a couple months away from inhabiting the area where the body of a young girl was found carefully placed behind the seawall next to the bathhouse across from the Do-Drop-In Lounge. Detective Mike Mastro and his partner, Detective Sal Petruca, out of the Revere Police Department were assigned to the case. There were no visible signs of violence, no blood and no identification. Two months earlier, a girl posed the same way was found on a beach in Hull, Massachusetts. And, eight months before that, two girls cut from the same mold were found in two beach locations in Quincy. Fingerprints, DNA and a search of the missing persons' bank didn't bring the detectives any closer to putting names to the bodies. Tensions mounted. With everything working against them, Detectives Mastro and Petruca, had to step up their investigation and nail the killer before he strikes again.

The body of a young woman found tucked away beside a bed in a closed-for-the-season ocean-front cottage... a boyfriend without an alibi... a rich and conniving widow... strangers and lovers caught in the triangle of an unknown identity. And then came Casey Quinby, considered the 'Kelly Girl' investigator for several Cape Cod Police Departments, and her side-kicks, Annie, right-hand to the District Attorney, and Marnie, a recent law school graduate. After a near-death experience only four months before, Casey promised her boyfriend, Sam, the lead detective in the Bourne PD, that she'd stay clear of dangers reserved for seasoned police officers. He constantly reminded her she was a newspaper reporter, not a PO. But, her accidental encounter with a very dead Jane Doe draws her back into a world of suspense, mystery and intrigue. The road from Provincetown to Boston is paved with twists, turns, unexpected dangers and hidden secrets waiting to be uncovered.