Cold Open (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 9) by Patricia McLinn

Release date: August 23, 2018
Subgenre: Cozy mystery, Small town mystery 

About Cold Open:

 

As spring beckons, winter chill remains …
In television, a cold open sometimes rolls before the opening credits, often a teaser to news or a feature to follow. For TV journalist Elizabeth Margaret “E.M.” Danniher, a nippy March and April are just a tease for spring after a long Wyoming winter. In her short time in Sherman, she’s learned that winter starts in October and might not end until June. Since last June, a series of murders have tested her and her KWMT-TV colleagues’ reporting – and amateur sleuth -- skills. And the small town’s rumor mill is churning about her relationship with handsome sports reporter Mike Paycik – or is it rugged rancher Tom Burrell?

As winter winds down, Elizabeth is ready for spring and looking for a place of her own. Ah, a little peace and quiet as she begins to settle in Cottonwood County. That is, until she discovers homicide at her front door.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Cold Open, Book 7 of USA Today bestselling author Patricia McLinn's Caught Dead in Wyoming series, is a smart, surprising, fast-paced cozy mystery series with humor and a touch of romance that will entertain fans of Craig Johnson, Sue Grafton and J.D. Robb.

 

Excerpt:

 

I slammed the brakes on, jerked the gear into park, yanked the emergency brake, and was out of the SUV.
“Move!” I shouted at the thin young man getting out of the police car. I recognized him. What was his name? “You’re letting him get away!”
“Get out of the car, ma’am.”
“I am out of the car. You get back in your car and get the hell out of the way.”
“Put your hands up.”
“They are up.” Not straight, but up, because I was using them to gesture in the direction of the disappearing dust trail.
I could hear Tom and Mike squawking at me from the phone still in the car.
I twitched with the instinct to reach for the phone. But that’s all I did. Because a roll call of news stories about people shot because law enforcement or someone else thought a phone was a gun flashed through my head, accompanied by another instinct -- or belated rationality -- recognizing the officer had a gun aimed at me.
“I’m Elizabeth Margaret Danniher of KWMT-TV,” I shouted.
“I know who you are. Get down on the ground.”
“In the dirt?” I stupidly asked.
Hollister. That was his name. Randy Hollister.
“Get down on the ground.”
“I’m the one who called this in, Randy. I called 911. Check with them. Ask for Gee – Gisella – Decker. Or Ben. I was talking to him.”
But I said all that from on the ground.
Not one little bit happy, but face down on the ground.

****

Cottonwood County Sheriff’s Deputy Richard Alvaro arrived a minute later, with me still on the ground and Officer Hollister nearby, pointing his none-too-steady gun at me. I couldn’t hear Tom and Mike on the phone anymore.
I didn’t know it was Alvaro at first, only that another vehicle pulled in behind Hollister’s, because my head was down, my arms straight out to my sides.
Alvaro identified himself from his car, loudly and clearly.
Alvaro approached, until he was close enough to repeat his identification. “Report.”
“Murder,” Hollister blurted out. “There was call of a murder. This person was trying to get away.”
“She called it in,” Alvaro said. “And there was a follow-up report that she was chasing a suspect.”
I raised my head enough to say, “I told him that.”
Alvaro glared at me.
I put my head down.
Wyoming dust was never going to make it as a facial treatment. Too much sharp grit, too many hard clumps. It hurt my cheek. It couldn’t be doing my hair and clothes any good, either.
“Did you check with dispatch?” Alvaro asked Hollister.
“Uh, no. There wasn’t time. I, uh— I had to secure the scene. Before--.”
But Alvaro wasn’t listening. He’d reached down a hand to me and helped me up.
“Where’d he go, Elizabeth?”
“That way.” I pointed to where a whiff of dust plume still showed in the distance. “I think it was red, but I couldn’t get any more description than that. I never had a hope of seeing the driver.” I rounded on Hollister. “Did you see him?”
“Who?”
I was in no mood to be subtle or make him feel better.
“The guy you let get away. Probably the murderer. That’s who.”


 

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About Patricia McLinn:

 Patricia McLinn's books have put her name on bestseller lists and her journalism career took her to the Washington Post for 20-mumble-mumble years. But it all started with secrets.

She learned to read at a tender age as a matter of self-preservation, because older siblings spelled words to keep secrets from her. Once Patricia discovered that the magic of written words allowed her to know people she hadn't met and experience places she hadn't visited, she was hooked.

She wanted to be a novelist from then on, though there was a detour. She received a BA in English Composition from Northwestern University. (Have you ever seen a job posting for an English Composition major? No. And you never will.) With her parents holding out for more practical pursuits, she added a masters in journalism from Northwestern's Medill School of Journalism in her fourth year. (Two degrees for the price of one! It was the precursor of a career in coupon-clipping.)

Not willing to be too practical, she became a sportswriter at a time when women doing that was quite rare, starting at the Rockford (Ill.) Register-Star and becoming assistant sports editor at the Charlotte (N.C.) Observer before moving on to the Washington Post.

But the dream of writing fiction kept calling. And journalism proved an excellent training ground, with enduring lessons in clarity, dialogue, research, drama, deadlines, conflict. Plus, it provided lots of characters. Lots and lots of characters.

Patricia has published more than 40 novels, with the characters for many more impatiently tapping their feet in the waiting room. Her books often include dry humor in exploring the resilience of people - whether in murder mysteries, romance, or women's fiction.

 

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