Fixed in Blood
Mutilation; gore; death; snuff films, oh my! Fixed in blood is written by T.E. Woods who is a clinical psychologist in “real life”. This expertise really comes into play in this book. Psychologist Lydia Corriger, who has a secret of her own, works with Seattle Chief Detective Mort Grant to solve a series of murders; A series of murders where young women are being mutilated and murdered.
Fixed in Blood is part of series developed by T.E.Woods, which thank goodness does not spend an extraordinary amount of time delving into the past but incorporates it very nicely within the story. In addition, a person doesn’t have to read the entire series to understand this book, although it isn’t a bad idea.
It’s a great book! I am not as streetwise as I thought after working in urban schools for most of my career, but it really brings home how dangerous this world can be.
I give it 4.5 stars and look forward to the next book. This blog is based on advanced reading Copy the Blogger RECEIVED FROM Neutrally. My opinion is my own.
Here is the excerpt for during the tour for FIXED IN BLOOD:
“What the hell time do you get up?” Mort Grant sat on the deck of his houseboat and called to the woman paddling by in the electric-yellow kayak. “Coffee’s fresh if you want a cup.”
He had purchased the houseboat on impulse, a behavior unlike him. But with Edie gone almost three years, it had been time to step away from that drafty old house where they’d raised their kids. He liked the idea of a small space close to the downtown headquarters of the Seattle Police Department but couldn’t see himself in one of those high-rise condos turning the city into a canyon of reflective glass. When his Realtor suggested a houseboat on Lake Union, he was intrigued. That was six months ago and life on the water suited him. He’d been warned the deep pockets it took to have a floating address might bring neighbors who wouldn’t appreciate a middle-aged, middle-class detective in their midst. But he’d been welcomed by the community of salt-loving iconoclasts, even the dot-com millionaire hipsters who’d taken to throwing their hands in the air and declaring “I didn’t do it” each time they passed him. And he’d won the neighbor lottery with Agatha Skurnik, the eighty-three-year-old retired literary agent with whom he shared a dock. She lived alone and relished her privacy but didn’t mind sharing a cup of coffee or a pint of stout as they sat and watched the world float by.
“I like getting up in the dark.” Aggie pulled her boat alongside her own dwelling. She fastened one mooring, braced her paddle across the open pit of her craft, and hoisted herself up onto her deck with the agility of a woman sixty years younger. “Floating out there with the ducks. Watching the sunrise.” She ran a hand through thick short hair. “Come with me sometime. See what the lake’s like before all the wage slaves wake up.”
Mort glanced at his watch. “It’s not six thirty yet. You make me tired watching you.”
Aggie crossed the planking separating their two houseboats, made her way to Mort’s galley, and joined him on his deck with a cup of coffee.
“I smelled a little must back there,” she said. “When’s the last time you checked your bilge pump?”
Mort had had to learn a new set of home maintenance chores since moving to the water. “You have the nose of a drug dog. There’s nothing wrong with my bilge. I let the sheets sit too long in the washer is all.”
Aggie swirled her coffee and tested the temperature with a small sip. “The machine’s got a little dinger to tell you the washing’s done. This isn’t string theory. I’ll not tolerate a needy recluse living next door. Next thing you know, you’ll be saving fingernail clippings in a jar.”
Mort shook his head. “No wonder you never married. No man would have been good enough for you.”
Aggie raised an eyebrow. Her blue eyes radiated a playful condescension. “There’s no man good enough for any woman, Mort. How you ever married continues to baffle me.”
He wished Edie had had the chance to know Aggie. “I think it had something to do with my devastating charm.”
Aggie’s laughter brought a chorus of quacking from a family of ducks floating by. Mort’s ringing cellphone added to the sounds of the morning. He picked it up and saw it was Jimmy DeVilla.
“What’s up?” Mort wondered if the entire city had gotten up early.
“We got a call.” Jim didn’t bother with greetings. “Time to dust off those clue-sniffing skills and get to work.” He filled Mort in on the location. “Forensic team’s been dispatched.”
Mort hung up and turned to Aggie. “I’ve got to go.”
Aggie nodded. The playfulness left her eyes. “Any call coming this early isn’t about paperwork. Go. I’ll close up.”
Mort stood, then pivoted back around to lay a hand on her shoulder. “You’re right, you know.”
“Of course I am.” Aggie patted his hand with her own age-marked one. “But to what are you referring this time?”
“There’s no man good enough for you.”
Aggie turned away and focused on the clouds turning pink with the rising sun. “Don’t discuss the obvious, Mort. People will find you boring.”
Publication Date: June 16, 2015
Available from Amazon/ Barnes & Noble
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