Jazz with Ella

excerpt

shape of the letters of the Soviet leader, then caught sight of Vera and Paul on a park bench engrossed in one another.
“So, changed your mind yet?” David asked of Paul.
David laughed, but Paul regarded the question seriously. “Not me. Have you?” he said to Vera.
“No, not at all. This is the best thing in my life.” Jennifer felt a brief sadness for a time when she met Michael…. They had known this feeling, too.
Paul turned to Jennifer. “I’ve got something for you,” he said, and he handed her the passport.
“How will you do without it?” She must know or she wasn’t going to take it.
Vera answered. “We have a plan—a good plan. He won’t need it again.”
“I’d feel better if I knew the plan.” She made it a statement, not a question. There was only one chance to find this out.
“It’s better if you don’t know.” Vera was also firm.
The two women locked eyes. “Maybe you’re right,” Jennifer considered. “But Paul, you’ve got to lie low at least until we leave the country. Don’t try anything right away, please.”
“We leave—that is, you leave Moscow on the 22nd, right? Maybe we should have a signal to say that everything’s okay. You could send Vera’s father a telegram from Paris or Montreal. I’ll write the address.”
Jennifer thought of the signal she had worked out with Volodya. “Jazz with Ella” she said. “Okay, it’s a signal that we all know, including Volodya.”
“Got it,” Paul replied. “There is something else you need to do for me, Jennifer. Here are all my cheques. I want you to take them back to Vancouver and use them to get at my inheritance in the bank.” He pulled out his pen again to sign them. “If you have any problems, you should go to my estate solicitor—I’ll write his name here—and tell him everything. He’ll keep it confidential and he can get access to the funds. Then you’ll have to figure out some way to get the money to me…”
“In US dollars, please,” Vera spoke up. “The best way is to send the money as cash with somebody who’s travelling here. The mail is not reliable. Money is stolen.”
“Okay, I think I’ve got all that.”
Paul extended his hand to Jennifer. “I wish you all the best, my good friend.” Then he reached over and hugged her tightly.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

The Unquiet Land

excerpt

“Not necessarily on the scaffold though,” Flynn said with a doubting smile that dismissed the whole business.
“No, but a violent end nevertheless,” said the gypsy woman with conviction. “Sainmhíniú. I know.”
“She’s right, Flynn,” Nora said uneasily. “The cross is there clear enough.” She looked at the tinker lady with fright in her eyes. “What happened to the other man you saw this sign on?”
“He was murdered,” said the gypsy. “Last year in Dublin.”
Nora turned her frightened eyes on Flynn, but Flynn placed his arm around her shoulder and smiled. “I’m surprised at you, Nora Casey,” he said. “God decides how and when we die. That’s what you’re always saying, isn’t it? If I’m to die a sudden and violent death, then it’s His will and you can’t quarrel with it. So don’t be paying too much heed to this palm-reading nonsense. I might live to be a hundred and die falling down the stairs.”
Flynn Casey was an ardent, vindictive Republican who had earned a reputation in Corrymore through having been in Dublin at the Easter Rising in 1916. No one knew what he did at the Easter Rising, but he came home with his arm in a sling, a bullet in his shoulder, and a hatred in his heart for Englishmen and Unionists. He was a quiet, shy, young man with eyes so squinty they seemed to be shut most of the time. His wide shoulders and big-boned frame gave him a stocky appearance, but his height was well above average. He made few friends, and when he announced that he was moving permanently to Dublin, that he would never live in a tiny province under the tyrannical rule of England, hardly anyone said they would miss him. The consensus was that he’d bring trouble to the village. Trouble dogged him like footprints on the beach. On the other hand no one wanted to lose his young wife, the popular Nora.
Nora poured two cups of tea. “Is Caitlin home?” she shouted to her stepmother in the scullery.
“No. She’s gone to meet Michael who’s down at the harbour.” Mother Ross came into the kitchen, drying her hands on the skirt of her black, polka-dotted apron. She sat down at the well-scrubbed table and spooned sugar into her teacup. “Now, what has you bursting with happiness like a lark with song?”
“Flynn’s home.” The smile widened across Nora’s round face again.
“What’s happened to his plans to move to Dublin?” Mother Ross prayed those plans had foundered. She wanted Nora and her toddler son to stay in Corrymore.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

The Circle

excerpt

He dials Peter’s number.
“All set, as I see in your message?” Hakim asks.
“Yes, it’s all done. I’m sure Lorne knows, or perhaps a better word is suspects
what’s coming down; he’s been there, done that. He didn’t seem to be concerned
when we demanded the meeting be called.”
“That makes life easier; I like that. On the other hand, I’m sure he’ll opt to
stay with us for a while, you’ll see,” Hakim says.
“I don’t know about that. I tend to disagree; however, we’ll see on Monday.
In the meantime, enjoy your day.”
“Thanks Peter. By the way, well done, good job. Thank you.”
He meets Jennifer at Mario’s half an hour later. They order a medium-size
pizza and a half-liter of red wine. He tells her about his latest maneuver at the
office. “When I get Peter running the company, we’ll hire the top PR firm in Los
Angeles or New York and boost our shares to the level they deserve. Then I’m
going to shock them with a different kind of surprise.”
She looks at him with pride as she realizes she will be beside him for the long
haul, with all its highs and exhilaration, as well as its doubts and tough times. Are
there going to be any hard times ever for her with this very rich man, she wonders.
“I’m proud of you, honey; you’re doing so well. Now, we have to find the
time to get the apartment in order.”
“I know, baby. Don’t you worry, we’ll get everything done and on time, I
promise you.” He kisses her lips.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

In the Quiet After Slaughter

excerpt

– Gringos are sometimes kidnapped for sport, warned a Brit. With
that hair, you’d be hard not to notice.
The Canadian scoffed at the notion of danger— secretly yearned,
in fact, for adventure — and had only decided against thumbing to
the coast after witnessing an incident near the zocolo. Men identifying
themselves as police had beaten one of the Australians he’d been
drinking with, a rugby player built like a bulldozer.
Witherspoon woke late the following morning, his brain cells
jumbled by too much mescal. From the hotel balcony he’d watched
as the Cessna he was booked to be aboard struggled to clear the treetops.
The desk clerk who’d promised to rouse him early — who’d
accepted a gratuity to do so — feigned amnesia. The proprietor of
the airline refused him a refund.
– The next flight leaves in one week, señor. he said. Would you
like to purchase a ticket?
– I have a ticket!
– Correct, señor. But your ticket has today’s stamp.
Paco brakes hard, scattering a clutch of chickens. He rolls down the
window and calls to the hitchhiker.
– Dondeva?
With dictionaries open in their laps, they know just enough of the
other’s language to be understood. The Mexican says he’s a pharmaceutical
student soon to be wed. He’s heard of the Canadian on radio
broadcasts.
– You like to throw the beanball, no?
– I led the league.
Whenever a pretty girl is spotted, Paco toots his horn. She is
assigned a number from one to 10, which is then averaged out to much
laughter and swigs from a bottle the Mexican keeps under the seat.
Halfway to the coast, Paco stops for a siesta. Witherspoon opts for
a dip in the river running parallel to the road. Young housewives,
their laundry spread out to dry on its grassy banks, are intrigued by
the stranger’s tangerine hair and cornflake freckles. He strips and
dashes into the current. The giggling voyeurs float bars of soap
downstream inside empty juice cartons.
– Norteamericano, he hears them say. El hombre muy blanco.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562874

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897971