Retired crime reporter Frank Ellis seeks a peaceful retirement in the serene town of Mayfield, Virginia. To make ends meet, Frank joins the Mayfield Weekly newspaper as a part-time gig. Before he can even settle in, a series of mysterious deaths linked to the local college’s creative writing program shatters his dreams of tranquility.
As Frank investigates, suspicion falls on the eccentric faculty, a mix of writers in genres ranging from historical romance to science fiction. The stakes rise when Frank's sister, Ash, a professor at the college, becomes a potential target. Is the killer wise enough to see that beneath Frank’s folksy exterior lies a keen mind honed by years of chasing stories in the urban jungle?
Haunted by his past, Frank finds unexpected allies in a quirky mystery reading club from his apartment building. Toxic Ink weaves cozy charm with suspense as Frank and his unlikely sidekicks navigate Mayfield's secrets.
Can they outsmart the killer, or will the town's mysteries remain buried in its enigmatic past? Join Frank Ellis on a journey of local news and cozy clues in the quaint town of Mayfield, where every page turns with warmth and suspense.
Retired crime reporter Frank Ellis seeks a peaceful retirement in the serene town of Mayfield, Virginia. To make ends meet, Frank joins the Mayfield Weekly newspaper as a part-time gig. Before he can even settle in, a series of mysterious deaths linked to the local college’s creative writing program shatters his dreams of tranquility.
As Frank investigates, suspicion falls on the eccentric faculty, a mix of writers in genres ranging from historical romance to science fiction. The stakes rise when Frank's sister, Ash, a professor at the college, becomes a potential target. Is the killer wise enough to see that beneath Frank’s folksy exterior lies a keen mind honed by years of chasing stories in the urban jungle?
Haunted by his past, Frank finds unexpected allies in a quirky mystery reading club from his apartment building. Toxic Ink weaves cozy charm with suspense as Frank and his unlikely sidekicks navigate Mayfield's secrets.
Can they outsmart the killer, or will the town's mysteries remain buried in its enigmatic past? Join Frank Ellis on a journey of local news and cozy clues in the quaint town of Mayfield, where every page turns with warmth and suspense.
June 1975, Monday.
The sun is sinking fast in the orange and purple sky as Gabe swings his legs over his Sting-Ray's banana seat, the worn vinyl creaking beneath him. His skin crawls with dried sweat and sulfur stink from the hours they'd spent poking around that creepy old hotel by the springs. But even that beats being stuck at home, listening to his old man and old lady fight.
"Come on, guys," he calls to Joey and Dexter, who are mounting their bikes. "Let's take the shortcut through the woods before our folks come looking."
Joey, all scrawny limbs and red mop hair, rides his second-hand Huffy alongside him. Coal dust from the hotel's cellar covers his tank top and cut-offs. "Right on! Maybe we'll spot the Blue Hill Devil while we're at it."
"Don't even joke about that." Dexter pulls up on his rust-speckled Raleigh Chopper, shooting Joey a wide-eyed look. "My grandpa swears he saw it once, said it had eyes like burning coals."
Gabe rolls his eyes, but something makes him glance back at the old hotel, now a ghostly silhouette against the darkening sky. At sixteen, he is too old for devil stories, but he can't shake the memory of that creepy dude he'd spotted lurking by the gazebo earlier. The same guy he'd seen hanging around the car wash where he works.
"It's bogus, man," Gabe says, pushing off toward the tree line. "The only thing we gotta worry about is being late for curfew."
As they dismount to push their bikes over the uneven path, the woods seem to swallow the last traces of daylight. Gabe's mind drifts back to their afternoon ventures—the pitch-black cellar that reeks like a stagnant swamp, the rotten floorboards upstairs with holes big enough to swallow a kid whole. Maybe staying so late wasn't the smartest idea.
Joey suddenly stops, his sneakers pattering dirt from the path. "Hey, what's that over there?"
Gabe follows Joey's pointing finger. He can make out what looks like a flash of pale color in the gloom behind a fallen log. His gut tightens as he remembers that creepy dude from earlier, hanging around the hotel like some kind of vulture.
"Probably just some trash," Gabe says, but the words feel hollow in his mouth.
Joey props his bike against a tree and starts toward the log. "I'm going to check it out," he says.
"Joey, wait!" Dexter's voice cracks. "What if it's the Blue Hill Devil?"
"For Pete's sake, Dex," Gabe starts, but Joey's scream cuts through the air like a coyote's howl. He comes tearing back, his face beneath that stringy red hair as white as his tube socks had been before the coal dust got to them.
"There's a dead chick back there!" Joey gasps, stumbling to a stop.
Gabe's heart hammers against his ribs. Every instinct screams at him to split, to tear out of there and never look back. But something roots him to the spot—maybe the need to prove he isn't some chicken or something else he can't name.
"Stay here," he tells Joey and Dexter, surprised by how steady his voice sounds.
As he inches toward the log, the shadows seem to press in around him. Every snap of a twig makes his muscles jump. His breath catches in his throat when he finally sees what lies behind it.
A young woman sprawls on the ground like a broken doll, her blonde hair fanned out like a halo in the dirt. This isn't like The Rockford Files or Baretta. This is real—nightmare-fuel real.
He is about to turn and run when something catches his eye—a scrap of paper near her hand. Without thinking, he snatches it up and shoves it into the pocket of his worn-out jeans.
"Gabe!" Joey's panicked voice cuts through the fog in his mind. "We gotta split! What if whoever did this is still around?"
That does it. Gabe turns and runs, his legs pumping as fast as they can carry him. The three boys tear through the woods, branches whipping at their faces as they flee.
They don't stop pedaling until they reach the edge of town, gasping for air and shaking from more than just the exercise.
"What the heck are we going to do?" Joey wheezes.
"We... we gotta tell someone," Gabe pants, his hand touching the pocket where he'd stashed the scrap of paper. He tries not to think about the creepy guy he'd seen at the hotel, tries not to make connections his mind wants to make anyway.
Joey nods, his face still ghost-white. "I'll get my mama to call the sheriff."
As they split up, each racing home, Gabe can't shake the feeling that everything in Mayfield is about to change. And somewhere in his mind, a little voice whispers that maybe there is more to the legend of the Blue Hill Devil than he'd thought.
Frank Ellis, a former crime reporter, is recently widowed. He's leaving his big-city crime reporting job to live in Mayfield, Virginia - enjoy the quiet life, be closer to his sister Ash. He takes a part-time job at the local newspaper - the bills still have to get paid, after all - but he turns down the crime beat. Old habits die hard, though, and when people associated with the local college's creative writing program start turning up dead, he's drawn toward the investigation. And when his sister appears to be a target, he knows he's got to get to the bottom of things.
At first I wasn't quite sure how I'd feel about this book. Even before he was widowed, Frank was a little on the curmudgeonly side. I understood that he wasn't thrilled with his move to Mayfield, but when his neighbors came to introduce themselves and welcome him to the apartment complex, he verged on rude sometimes. I guess that's plausible for someone not used to small-town bonhomie, but it was a little off-putting. Thankfully, Frank began to adjust to his neighbors and even started thinking of them as - dare I say? - friends.
The time period the story takes place in is the 1970s, and if you aren't at least passingly familiar with it, you might want to brush up on some of the slang. Jade, one of Frank's neighbors, sounds like she's fluent in the lingo, with a few side trips into the 1960s. It sometimes took me a minute to wrap my brain around what she was saying. I adjusted, though!
The mystery more than made up for my nitpicky problems, though. J. Michael Hunter gives us a puzzle where the answer isn't readily obvious. There are two people dead, but what connects them other than the college creative writing program? Why were they targeted, and why might Ash be next in the killer's sights? Frank and friends have to dig deep, and they take the reader on quite a ride as they do! The killer's identity was quite a surprise to me, and I do love a mystery that keeps me guessing.
A charming small-town setting, an accurate grasp on the story's time period, and a thoroughly engaging mystery makes for an enjoyable read, and one I recommend for mystery lovers! I hope there are more adventures with Frank yet to come.