New exciting mystery-thriller now available on amazon.com on Kindle or paperback. Here’s a scene with Scott and Jessie trying to find his true father…
Jessie parked the BMW in front of 4417 Westbrook Road. Scott stared up at the two-story, shotgun-style home that shared a covered porch with its paint-peeling twin next door. A few feet of calf-high grass separated the duplex from the other deteriorating homes on the block. A single FHA tree provided shade for the uneven broken sidewalk, and a brightly painted ceramic gnome family occupied a corner of the tiny front lawn.
“Are you going to sit there all day, or go knock on the door?” Jessie asked.
“Look at the time. We should come back tomorrow.”
“My watch says five o’clock.”
“They might be eating supper.”
“Or be in the living room half-naked, playing strip dominoes,” she said.
He shrugged. “Possible.”
Jessie got out of the car, grabbed Scott by the hand, and dragged him up the three steps leading to the porch. “Close your fingers into a fist, and bang it against the screen door frame–exactly three times.”
“What am I going to say–hi, I’m the bastard grandson you never met?”
“For an ice breaker I’d suggest, hello, I’m Scott Harold, Jr.”
“No wonder mom always liked you best.” He took a deep breath and rapped loudly on the door. No response. “Nobody’s home, let’s go.”
Scott turned to leave, but Jessie rotated him back. “Knock louder. I hear a TV.”
A few seconds later, the inside door swung open. A pleasant-looking elderly man, wearing leather slippers, smiled at them from behind a torn screen door. He wore a white t-shirt tucked into dress slacks held up by suspenders. The Cincinnati Enquirer sports section rested in his right hand. “May I help you?” he said, looking over his reading glasses.
Scott stood there with his mouth open, but no words came out. Jessie came to his rescue.
“We are looking for a Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Harold. Is this where they live?”
The man said. “You got the right address, but they don’t live here anymore. Are you family?”
“Could be,” said Scott.
The man said, “Either you are or you’re not.”
“If we could speak to them, I could give you a better answer.”
The man frowned. “That makes no sense.”
“Can you tell us where they moved?” Jessie interrupted.
A couple minutes of silence went by. Scott finally asked, “Well?”
“Sorry, it won’t help.”
Scott said, “Why not?”
“Are you two selling insurance?”
“No,” said Jessie, “we need to ask them something very important.”
“I’d like to help, but you still can’t speak to them.”
“Please?” Jessie said.
“Jesus, is everybody dead?” Scott said, throwing his hands up in desperation.
“I’m feeling okay,” the man offered.
“You don’t understand,” said Jessie, “We’re trying to find out if their son is Scott’s father.”
The man said, “Why don’t you ask him?”
“Who?” Jessie asked.
“We can’t,” said Scott, “He died in Vietnam.”
The man shook his head. “Not him, the other one, Billy. He’s the one who sold us this house.”
Jessie said, “Scott Sr. had a brother?”
“The Harold family have been friends for years. Billy took it bad when he lost his kid brother.”
Scott said, “Any chance you have Billy’s address?”
The man nodded. “Sure, he lives in the other half of this duplex.”
Check it out on amazon.com. Honest reviews welcomed!