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52 pages

English

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Syndicated columnist Tara Blunt knows her track record with men hasn't been stellar and now she's faced with four men in her life... and one of them might be a murderer. But Tara figures her skill at sorting out facts for her news column will get her to the bottom of the unusual death of a brilliant scientist who was in the running to win a $5 million contest to create a new, environmentally friendly product that would replace all types of petroleum-based packaging. When he turns up dead on the day of her interview with him, her investigative-reporter mind goes on the hunt for an even better story, but the truth might kill her.

Sujets

Women Sleuths

Detective

Mystery

Fiction

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Publié par	eBookIt.com
Date de parution	02 août 2018
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781456631635
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Syndicated columnist Tara Blunt knows her track record with men hasn’t been stellar and now she’s faced with four men in her life…and one of them might be a murderer.

ALICE ZOGG
Copyright 2018 Alice Zogg,
All rights reserved.

Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-3163-5

This book is a work of fiction.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Also by Alice Zogg

Stand-Alone Mysteries
Accidental Eyewitness
A Bet Turned Deadly

R. A. Huber Mysteries

Evil at Shore Haven
Guilty or Not
Murder at the Cubbyhole
Revamp Camp
Final Stop Albuquerque
The Fall of Optimum House
The Lonesome Autocrat
Tracking Backward
Turn the Joker Around
Reaching Checkmate

Here is another one for you, Wilfried
CREDITS
My thanks go to physics teacher David Platt, who answered scientific questions I had pertaining to physics mentioned in this book. If I still managed to get it wrong, any error relevant to that field is mine, not his. I would be at a loss without my daughter Franziska’s proofreading skills. Thank you for taking the time to do this for your mom, over and over again. Gayle Bartos-Pool did an excellent editing job. I truly appreciate it, Gayle. My gratitude goes out to the members of the Los Angeles chapter of Sisters in Crime. Their support keeps me enthused about this thing called writing. Huntington Beach has become my spouse’s and my home away from home. So it is only fitting that I chose its location for this work. By the same token, the setting research was effortless and did not involve traveling far. Wilfried, my husband, was easily persuaded to accompany me to a research outing on Balboa Island.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
EPILOGUE

CHAPTER 1
Where to start? To be clear right from the beginning, I am not an author of books. My name is Tara Blunt. My métier as a syndicated columnist does not necessarily qualify me as being one. Still, I cannot ignore the events that put me smack in the middle of wickedness, and so I feel compelled to tell this story. I am writing it first and foremost for myself, needing to vent the morbid involvement, in order to draw the final curtain. Capturing any potential readers’ interest in the process, I consider a bonus.
I guess the kickoff was when all hell broke loose on the day I finally landed an interview with Dr. Jake Unger. I had discovered that several scientists had entered a contest sponsored by a leading company in the soft drink industry named Tops & Associates. They were to come up with an eco-friendly cellulose-derived product that would replace all types of petroleum-based packaging. I was determined to interview these scientists about their entries.
Let me explain a little more about myself. I’m a 33-year-old light brunette who inherited my high cheekbones and long legs from Mom, a former model, and the ability to think logically from Dad, who is an engineer. I run my columns in multiple major national newspapers and magazines. On occasion, I also submit my work to specific targeted publications. Among other things, I am interested in environmental and conservation issues, and some of my articles reflect those subjects.
The task of talking to the scientists proved harder than I imagined. Initially, they all refused to see me. Since Jake Unger lived in my hometown of Huntington Beach in Southern California, I was persistent and contacted him several times. At long last, he agreed to meet me at the Starbuck’s on Main Street for a short interview on that terrible Saturday morning of April 14 - - I presumed to get me off his back.
I judged him to be in his mid-to-late-thirties, tall and lanky, with a long skinny neck. I could not help comparing him to a giraffe as he awkwardly walked toward my table, cappuccino in hand. He was not a conversationalist at all. I had to drag every bit of information out of him, meager as it was. I learned that he had a master’s degree in physics and first worked in a government-funded laboratory doing experimental research, then switched over to the private sector and became self-employed. I asked him how he could survive being self-employed with the cost of research projects coming out of his own pocket. He gave me a look of annoyance at my obvious ignorance but answered the question, informing me that he contracted with different companies, who in turn financed the research for the assignments. When prompted about his current project as participant in the contest, he became even more tongue-tied.
I asked, “Are you close to a breakthrough or have you already found a solution?”
“You might say that.”
“But you won’t talk about it?”
“Correct.” And I was surprised that he opened up enough to add, “Deadline for submission is a week from today. Perhaps I’ll tell you afterward.”
No wonder the contestants did not grant me interviews. They were all pressured for time, I thought. Aloud I said, “Dr. Unger, I take it that you are passionate about environmental issues.”
“Not really,” he admitted.
“So why did you enter the contest?”
“The prize money is substantial, and the prestige accompanied with it, welcome.”
“Where do you work?”
“I use the separate guest house in back of my home as a lab.”
“May I have a look?” I asked.
“Why?”
“Just curious. Besides, if you win the contest, I’ll not only write a generous column about you and your discovery, which will appear in numerous major newspapers and professional magazines, but I’ll add a photo of your lab to boot.”
He thought this over and then reluctantly agreed to let me have a peek. We settled on 4:30 that same afternoon.
CHAPTER 2
My apartment is located in central Huntington Beach, about five miles inland. Jake Unger’s house was near the ocean and a few blocks from Main Street. His was one of the rare small old bungalows remaining amid new, grandiose dwellings. When I arrived, there was a big commotion in front of his house. The street was blocked off by police cars and several fire engines. I found parking on a cross street and hurried over to the scene.
A crowd of neighbors and curious bystanders had gathered, and I squeezed my way through, only to be stopped by an official.
I said, “I have an appointment to see Dr. Unger.”
“If you’re talking about the man we found in the structure on fire, he’s not going to see you anytime soon,” he replied, pointing to a person on a stretcher who was being carried away by paramedics, loaded into the ambulance, and driven away, sirens blasting.
A hint of smoldering ash was still coming from the burnt down guesthouse behind the bungalow, but the firemen and firewomen seemed to have the blaze under control. I asked one of the onlookers what had happened and learned that there had been an explosion in the scientist’s lab. And when I inquired whether the injured man had a family, the neighbor said, “Sure, he’s got a wife and kid. The authorities are inside the house, trying to calm the woman down.”
When the fire and police vehicles drove away, the group of curious neighbors slowly dispersed but not before voicing their concerns. I overheard someone say, “Having an experimental science lab in a residential area is too dangerous and should be against the law.”
“I agree,” said someone else. “We’re lucky that the fire didn’t spread. On a windy day, it could have easily jumped from roof to roof, endangering our entire neighborhood.”
A third person commented, “I’m glad that it looks like it was only a chemical explosion. When I first heard and felt the big bang, I thought we were dealing with terrorists.”
As the crowd dissolved, there was nothing left for me to do but also leave. Turning on the local news that evening, I heard that Jake Unger had suffered from third-degree burns all over his body and a fracture on his head, possibly caused by falling debris. He had died in the ambulance before it reached the emergency hospital.
CHAPTER 3
On impulse the next day, Sunday afternoon, I paid Jake Unger’s widow a visit. I had slept poorly; the image of the stretcher with a wrapped-up body being carried away kept creeping into my mind. And I couldn’t stop thinking about the wife and child I’d learned he had. I parked my Honda between a van and a BMW on the street in front of the Unger residence. As I rang the doorbell, it occurred to me that I might not be welcome.
The door was opened by a pretty young blonde with a male toddler in tow. She gave me a questioning stare.
“Mrs. Unger?” I asked.
She acknowledged the fact with a slight nod. I introduced myself and told her about my interview with her husband the previous day and my appointment to have a look at his laboratory, only to come upon the ghastly scene.
“Jake seems to have been popular yesterday,” she said.
I didn’t understand her comment but stored it away for later. Instead, I said, “I am so sorry for your loss. I came to see if I can be of help,” and pointing to the vehicles parked at the curb, I added, “but you obviously have family and friends comforting you.”
“No, there’s no one here. The van belongs to th