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- Herausgeber: Paraquel Press
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
A saboteur. A murder. A ride to remember.
As a guest on the maiden voyage of a new steam locomotive enterprise, Chief Steadman expects nothing but pampering and luxury.
What he gets is something else entirely.
When sabotage escalates into murder, Steadman and Frost pull out all the stops to solve the case and bring the powers of justice to bear before the whole thing derails.
Get on board for a rollicking, suspense-filled ride!
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Miscarriage of Justice
A Steadman Mystery
Joslyn Chase
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Praise for Steadman's Blind
What readers are saying...
"Just like Nocturne In Ashes, I found Steadman's Blind a one session page-turner and gave it five Amazon stars."
~ Ron Keeler, Read 4 Fun
"Ms. Chase's second novel is just as unputdownable as the first one was. I got lost in the book and the world the author created, transported to another place and time."
~ Gabi Rosetti (reader, Amazon.com)
"Author Joslyn Chase has now confirmed my first impressions of her being a formidable suspense writer bound to make readers sit up and take notice."
~ Manie Kilian (reader, Amazon.com)
"As always in her writing, the settings and action scenes are vividly portrayed and the relationships between the characters are seamless and authentic. Ms Chase has a talent for bringing characters to life."
~ ReadnGrow (Amazon.com)
Contents
Miscarriage of Justice
Chief Deputy Randall Steadman leaned back in his chair and rested his hands contentedly atop his swollen belly. The cuisine on the new and highly touted dinner train had lived up to the hype. His wife, Vivi, seated next to him, patted his knee beneath the table and smiled, a spark of excitement in her eyes. She was having the time of her life.
He hadn’t been able to put a name to each menu item he’d tucked away, but all had been delicious. From the fragrant little pancakes topped with smoked salmon and a dollop of savory cream—Vivi had called them blinis—to some kind of chicken dish with a lemony aroma, and on to dessert, a maple encrusted hazelnut mousse that melted in his mouth.
Now, with the surrounding murmur of after-dinner conversation and the rhythmic clackety-clack of the old steam cars roaring gently along the track, he could happily close his eyes and drift into sleep. Vivi’s hand reached for his knee again, this time to deliver a pinch that had him straightening in his chair as the waiter served coffee.
“Mr. Abel asked if you enjoy classical music, darling,” she said, tipping her head and fluttering her lashes as if dying to hear his response.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Steadman said, nodding his thanks to the waiter as he accepted a steaming china cup. “I’ll admit, I don’t know a lot about it, but I like it when I hear it.”
“I am very much looking forward to the concert,” said the woman seated across from Vivi. Steadman remembered her name, Tabitha Ross, and knew she was secretary to Mr. Milton Chandler, the man behind the idea for this steam train enterprise. Politicians and entrepreneurs alike had praised him for his efforts, believing the train would bring jobs and tourist dollars into the local economy, while providing opportunities for peripheral businesses to thrive.
“Oh, me too,” Vivi agreed.
Will Abel spoke again. “Me, I’m waiting for the beach tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a scorcher.”
Milton Chandler’s Magnificent Train Adventure combined the appeal of riding along behind an old-fashioned steam locomotive, with transport to a variety of venues, and included the spectacular scenery of the Pacific Northwest and the charm of the vintage cars. This particular event featured an elegant dinner en route to a symphony concert in Silverdale. After the concert, passengers would return to the train and sleep while it rumbled along the track and out west to Aberdeen, waking to a glorious breakfast and a day at the beach.
“You’re a lawman, I understand,” Abel continued. “I am too, in my way. I provide Chandler’s in-house legal counsel.” He smiled. “I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but we were expecting the mayor and his wife on this trip.”
Steadman took a sip of the coffee, stifling the yelp that rose to his lips. It was hot. “Yes,” he said, “and that’s what you should have got. But Mayor Galton was unavoidably called away and he asked me to step in for him.”
“Lucky you,” Tabitha said, smiling across at Vivi.
“I’ll do my best to represent the city as he would have,” Steadman said.
“Oh, no worries. I’m sure you will.” Abel raised his cup in a sort of toast, signaling the sincerity of his words. Across the aisle, four diners stood up from their table. The man himself, Mr. Milton Chandler, wore a set of bib overalls, a striped hogshead cap, and a red bandana tied at the throat, an affectation he’d adopted for this maiden voyage.
Steadman watched his gaze travel across the train car, proprietorial pride stamped on his face. He took the arm of the woman next to him and nodded across at Abel. “We still have an hour before we need to change for the concert. We’ll be in my car. Why don’t you and Tabitha join us?”
The “caboose” of their train was Chandler’s private car, a luxurious accommodation with kitchen, bathrooms, sleeping quarters, and a lavish living room. Photo layouts had been featured in recent issues of several magazines and on social media.
As the four swayed down the aisle and out of the dining car, Steadman noted the sour look on Tabitha’s face. “That may have sounded like an invitation,” she said to Vivi, “but it was an order. We have to go.”
She wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin and tossed it down on the table, a trace of pink lipstick smeared across the snowy linen. She rose and stood aside, waiting for Will Abel.
Steadman asked, “Who were the others with him?”
Tabitha’s eyes grew vacant. She stared out the expansive windows, but Steadman knew she wasn’t seeing anything out there. It was dark. Only her reflection stared silently back.
“The woman at his side is Jamie Bryant,” Abel supplied.
“His wife?” Vivi asked.
“No, they’re not married, but they’ve been together for…I guess it’s been about eleven years now.”
