I’m skipping ahead here just a bit. I’m still fine tuning the prologue for my second novel, A Weekend for Murder. In the meantime, since I mentioned my third novel precedes The Poisoned Martini eStory, I thought I’d present a look at the prologue for Murder at the Gardens.
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A lone person paced back and forth in a dimly-lit room. Pale moonlight streamed through the windows, mixing with a yellowish tinge from a desk lamp. A nearby digital clock read: 2:36 am. Footfalls on creaking floorboards disturbed the silence.
A cold, calculating mind thought furiously. Everything had to be perfect. Nothing left to chance. It would be a bold move. Unflinching and malicious. Once committed there would be no turning back. That would be no problem though. A mind was made up.
The figure in the dark moved toward the light. On the desk, a volume—a book—lay opened to an earmarked page. How fascinating the world of plants! Full of wonders and horrors. Outward beauty masked deadly toxins. Ugly weeds belied the benefits of life-giving medicine. So varied the world of flora and so useful. Eyes, cold and clinical, read the page.
The slowing of the heartbeat…a burning in the mouth, nausea, vomiting, respiratory distress…death. One plant, one poison, one victim. The eyes looked to the small brown vial on the desk. Gingerly with a handkerchief, fingers picked up the vial, a small liquid moved within. It would be enough to do the deed.
With determination, the vial was set down and the book taken up. Like a shadow, the figure passed through rooms. The book was thrown in a trash bag to be hauled away on the morrow. No evidence. That would be important.
With a wicked smile, a face turned to a calendar on the wall. Soon. It would be soon. Just a few more days…
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Stay tuned for more about Murder at the Gardens and The Mysteries of Syracuse series.
This prologue excerpt is copyrighted material. Please do not reproduce or use without prior permission from the author.
The Poisoned Martini 