My 3rd novel in the Alvarez Family Murder Mystery series, Death runs in the Family. Death Runs is my favorite so far, but this is probably because every book is usually an author’s favorite! Lee, Lila, Richard and Tío – the whole Alvarez Family – are up to their eyeballs again in dead bodies here in the gorgeous Bay Area and beyond! Peril is everywhere. Even Tugger is catnapped!
The wonderful author Pat Dale has read Death Runs in the Family and offers a totally unsolicited review! isn’t that great when other writers take the time to write down their opinion of our work? I am so jazzed. Here it is:
“The third book in the Lee Alvarez Mystery series has recently been released by Muse It Up Publishing and I’ve just finished reading a delightful mystery romp. Author Heather Haven takes us through a series of infinitely detailed settings as this sometimes vulnerable but infinitely talented sleuth doggedly chases down a wisp of a girl/woman who had pulled one over on her. The plot thickens and the stakes grow higher; and deadlier. From a seemingly impish prank, the reader is drawn into high drama with deadly consequences, leading to a long distance chase that nets one of the most deceptive but ruthless villains I’ve read in a long while. Five star ratings are bandied about carelessly these days and that’s a shame. When you find an author who really knows how to write, and a story that keeps your eyes glued to the page, page after page, you know you’ve read five star material. Heather Haven is a gifted author and I can hardly wait to see what her protagonist, Lee Alvarez, gets into next. Kudos and a big, bold, ***** rating for DEATH RUNS IN THE FAMILY.”
Writing as Pat Dale Check out his website. He is one talented author.
Back to Death Runs in the Family
Lee Alvarez’ ex-husband, Nick — a man she divorced with joy in her heart and a gun in her hand – sprints back in her life only to disappear again. She’d love to leave it at that, but could he be responsible for the recent death of her cousin, who keeled over at the finish line of a half-marathon in front of hundreds of spectators? As PI for the family run business, Discretionary Inquiries, Lee follows the clues to Vegas, where she joins forces with Shoshone PI, Flint Tall Trees. Together they uncover a multi-million dollar betting syndicate, a tacky lounge lizard act, and a list of past but very dead runners, plus future ones to off. At the top of the ‘future’ list is the love of her life, Gurn Hanson. Hoping to force the culprits out in the open, Gurn and Lee’s brother, Richard, vow to run San Francisco’s famous Palace to Palace footrace in only a few days. Can Lee keep the two men she loves from hitting the finish line as dead as her cousin? With more at stake than she ever dreamed possible, Lee is in a battle against time to stop the Alvarez Family’s 12K race with death.
I Don’t Know Who’s the Bigger Idiot
Without much conversation, we jostled Nick out of the room and down the stairs. As a precaution, we used the back exit, Flint flinging boxes of DVDs every which way so fast, the clerk only managed one “hey” before we were out the door. The exit led to a narrow back alley filled with garbage, trash, and more small scurrying animals that should be calling the SPCA to complain about the conditions under which they’re forced to live.
While Flint went to bring the car to the side of the alley, I waited in the shadows next to Nick and pulled out the Glock. The irony of the situation hit me like a double charge on a credit card bill for shoes not only too tight to wear but last year’s style.
On the left, a disgusting dumpster; on the right, an even more disgusting ex-husband. And me stuck in the middle as usual—a reluctant PI if ever there was one.
Rather than inhaling the stench of fly-ridden garbage, I’d really rather be sniffing out dastardly doings of computer sabotage or thievery, in particular, long after said dastardly deeds have gone down. It’s my idea of a good job, especially when I get to zip off whenever I want and have a great lunch.
The part I like best—besides the food—is sitting at a highly polished, recently vacated mahogany desk in an air-conditioned office, sifting through the rubble of high-tech deceit and betrayal. I like gathering enough evidence to point a manicured fingernail at the culprit and shout j’accuse! Backlit by enough briefs, memos, emails, and other telltale papers, the culprit is mine. That is a real high.
This was a real low. But I had to think about Stephen. My cousin was dead, and Nick knew something about it. Hell, maybe he even had something to do with it. And, of course, there were the cats. If Nick was in any way responsible, I might do him in myself and save whatever goons there may be the trouble.
All these things were flitting through my mind when Nick—the stupid idiot—made a lunge for my gun, muttering he could take better care of himself than I could. Sometimes an ex-marine, like an ex-husband, needs to get over himself.
One of the first lessons you learn as a PI is to not to carry a gun if you’re going to let anybody take it away from you. All the years I’ve been carrying, ten to be exact, people have taken all sorts of things from me—including my virtue—but never my gun.
So when Nick came at me, my knee went up fast, strong, and accurate. Ex dropped to the ground in a fetal position. God only knows what else was lying there with him, but I left him on the dirt, anyway. He was busy moaning while I cocked the Glock and gave a 360-degree spin, prepared to do whatever was necessary to keep the jerk safe. At least, for the moment.
Fortunately, no one showed up except a passing rat or two, excluding the one I stood over. After what felt like a lifetime, I saw Flint’s headlights, although I’m sure it didn’t take him more than three minutes to get there. I helped Nick up. He limped to the car, and Flint, bless him, raised an eyebrow over Nick’s condition but didn’t say a word. What a guy.
Other ways of communication:
Heather’s blog at: http://tinyurl.com/4nensnp