Once upon a time, the Grimms’ fairy tales taught lessons. Now, the Grimm Reaper does.
New detective Chelsea Sullivan is partnered with a maverick famous for closing cases and infamous for how he does it. He has a target on his back and a chip on his shoulder. Not exactly how she hoped to kick off her first homicide case.
Jim McPherson doesn’t mind showing an up-and-comer the ropes, but he does mind when she keeps putting herself in harm’s way. Especially since her innocence is exactly the trait the serial seems to be targeting. Unless they’re missing a crucial detail. And he can’t help but think his new partner knows what it is.
He has no idea she fears her father might be the murderer.
The body count is rising and the Grimm Reaper is after Chelsea. If they can’t catch him before he catches her, there will be no happily ever after.
Once Upon A Crime is the first book in Nolon King’s new Once Upon A Crime Trilogy. Start reading your favorite new series today!
Once upon a time, the Grimms’ fairy tales taught lessons. Now, the Grimm Reaper does.
New detective Chelsea Sullivan is partnered with a maverick famous for closing cases and infamous for how he does it. He has a target on his back and a chip on his shoulder. Not exactly how she hoped to kick off her first homicide case.
Jim McPherson doesn’t mind showing an up-and-comer the ropes, but he does mind when she keeps putting herself in harm’s way. Especially since her innocence is exactly the trait the serial seems to be targeting. Unless they’re missing a crucial detail. And he can’t help but think his new partner knows what it is.
He has no idea she fears her father might be the murderer.
The body count is rising and the Grimm Reaper is after Chelsea. If they can’t catch him before he catches her, there will be no happily ever after.
Once Upon A Crime is the first book in Nolon King’s new Once Upon A Crime Trilogy. Start reading your favorite new series today!
Years earlier
Outside the cabin
Mission Station, Pennsylvania
The coke ovens called to him. A battery of twenty-five of them, parallel to the train tracks, cut into the earth. He’d been obsessed with them for years. How he longed to step inside, explore their lengths. Despite what Mother said, he didn’t think they were dangerous. He dreamed they were portals to a magical land, like Narnia. A place full of wonder and whimsy. Full of creatures who would love him. Protect him.
Sacrifice for him.
The Pevensie kids had a wardrobe. Perhaps he had the coke ovens.
The pull toward them — toward escape — was powerful.
Mother was more powerful.
She forbade him to go near them. And he would not cross her. Didn’t dare consider it.
Father once told him the openings reminded him of mouths — gaping maws, waiting to devour disobedient children who got too close.
But most of the time, Father said they made him think of Hansel and Gretel and the oven in the woods.
Lord, how he hated that story. Which was probably why Father told it so often.
He suspected Mother had told Father to say those things. Father did everything Mother said. And nothing else.
Father obeyed, as a dutiful husband did. As a dutiful son should, too.
Now, at last, he’d found a way to escape Mother without breaking her rules.
He stood on the tracks, the breeze rustling his hair as it blew through the trees, his feet vibrating with the force of the train chugging toward him. The ovens now looked less like tunnels to freedom and more like the holes on a flute, just waiting for the wind to pick up and play a dirge in his honor, harmonizing with the shrill whistle of the engine hurtling his way.
Escape. It was so close now. Just a few moments more. He’d never get to learn the secrets of the ovens, but he’d be free. And his unsatisfied curiosity was a small price to pay for liberation.
The wheels beat a frenetic, staccato rhythm.
So close.
The whistle shrieked a panicked alarm.
Any second.
The click-clack, click-clack, click-clack turned into an ear-splitting squeal.
He closed his eyes and smiled. No brakes could stop the train fast enough at this point. Escape was imminent. Inevitable.
Inviting.
His pulse raced, not from fear but from anticipation.
Talons dug into his forearms.
His heart, along with his hopes, plummeted.
He looked back and up into Mother’s face, her usually pale complexion flush with fury, her sharp features slanted with the effort of savage strength.
She yanked him off the metal rails. Jerked him clear of the speeding locomotive.
The screeching gave way to the rhythmic click-clack again as the cars rumbled past with a gust of hot air and an angry warning blast.
He’d been inches from freedom. It might never get so close again.
As he sprawled on the ground at her feet, she loomed over him, chest heaving from exertion and rage, eyes narrowed in accusation and bright with insanity. “What were you thinking, boy? Were you not told to stay away from the tracks?”
Mother had forbidden him to cross the tracks and ordered him not to play on the tracks. But she’d never said he couldn’t touch them, and he certainly wasn’t playing. Pointing out such a distinction, however, would only make his punishment harsher. So, he said nothing.
“I asked you a question.” She hauled him up by the front of his shirt, held him nose-to-nose with her, so his feet dangled above the ground.
“I’m sorry, Mother.”
“I’ll ask again. What. Were. You. Thinking?”
“I made a wish … ” But finishing that sentence would be worse than explaining he hadn’t technically broken her rules.
She set him down. Slowly. Deliberately.
He’d rather she’d dropped him.
Mother straightened his clothes. She licked her thumb to smooth down an errant strand of his long hair, then wiped what he assumed was a smudge off his cheek.
He struggled not to flinch from her ministrations, gross though they were.
“You know Mother loves you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And I only do what I do to protect you from the dangers of the world.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How do good parents show their love?”
“By setting rigid boundaries and stringently enforcing the rules.”
She scowled.
“Ma’am.”
A thin smile crossed her face, turning her expression from psychotic to merely severe. “Then you know what to do, yes?”
He swallowed past a lump in his throat. Nodded when he couldn’t find his voice.
“Tell me.”
Tears welled in his eyes, but he willed them not to fall. To show weakness at this point would only make things worse. “Go inside.” His words were soft, tremulous. When she scowled, he lifted his chin and summoned the strength to speak with conviction. “Retrieve your switch from the wall.” She hung it there as a deterrent, though seeing it daily didn’t keep him from breaking her litany of rules. What he’d done today was proof of that.
But he dare not tell her that, either.
“Then?” she prompted.
“Take off my clothes. Bend over, hold my ankles. Wait for my punishment.”
“Very good. Afterward, if you don’t cry, I’ll read you a story. I think ‘The Fisherman and His Wife’ is appropriate for this situation since you spent the morning wishing for things” — she spat the word — “when I’ve already given you more than you need. Now, run along. And tell your father to join you. He needs to learn to be disciplined, principled. Vigilant. When I tell him to watch you, I expect him to do so. Diligently.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Go on. I will be in shortly.”
She might follow him immediately; she might make him wait — naked and nervous — for hours. He never knew what she would do.
And the unknowing, the dread? That was sport to her, part of the punishment. The way she toyed with his mind and trifled with his emotions was worse than the beatings, worse than the humiliation.
Well, maybe not worse. But at least as bad.
At last, she’d won. His spirit was broken. His will, crushed.
Despite the dread gnawing his guts, he didn’t dawdle. He ran off to find his father, praying the search would be short and simple.
The longer it took him to comply with Mother’s orders, the worse he’d have to endure.
Fairy tale murders! The mystery-loving evil witch in me cackled with glee when I snagged this novel to review. This old crone was not disappointed.
Once Upon A Crime is a fun, character-driven mystery. Beyond the fairy tale angle, which hooked me in the first place, is an action-packed storyline told in alternating POVs from our main characters, Chelsea and Jim. Both bring richly crafted backstories to the novel which are deftly intertwined with the main mystery.
The mystery itself is plotted nicely, with references to the Brothers Grimm all over the place. I will say, I sussed out the killer a bit early, but later clues did have me occasionally second-guessing my pick until almost the end. Subplots involving Jim's mother and Chelsea's father, as well as the reasons for Jim's transfer to a different department, add to the already robust tale.
That's not to say it isn't without flaws, particularly with Chelsea's initial personality. I get she's a brand new detective, and she's a woman working in a man's world. And her father, a former detective, was kicked off the force for allegedly participating in shady practices, meaning she has a lot to prove. And the new partner she didn't want is putting on his best boorish behavior during their first encounters. But her defensive nature about every little thing or statement in the novel's beginning chapters is practically toxic.
I bristled every time she pitched a fit and almost stopped reading. I'm glad I didn't, because Chelsea's temper does eventually even out. Sort of. By the novel's end, she's still jumping headfirst into danger and taking offense when her naivety is called out. She's also, though, understanding her partner's and coworkers' motives more clearly, and thinking more of how her actions affect others. If you, too, start this novel and share my opinions, fear not. This girl has a solid character arc coming. I'm anxious to see her growth in the next novel of this trilogy.
Bottom line: Do you like fairy tale stories? Do you like mysteries? Do you like reading? If you answered yes to all of those questions, Once Upon A Crime might be a good pick for you. Unless you enjoy reading really gritty crime novels. This one is moderately PG-13. But if you read cozy mysteries and are looking for something fresh? This poisoned apple is worth a bite.