xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Kryssie Fortune: Five Facts Thursday - please welcome Patricia MacLayne

Thursday, 12 November 2015

Five Facts Thursday - please welcome Patricia MacLayne

Fast Five Thursday – P.J. MacLayne

 1.  The highest point in Volusia County, Florida is the north cell in the Tomoka Farms landfill at 145 feet above sea level. Some people claim it doesn't count because it's artificial. I've been there.  (Well, close to it.)

2.   Medieval monks complained about their jobs in the margins of the manuscripts they were working on. Nowadays we complain about our jobs via email.

3.  I didn't touch my first computer until I was thirty, now I'm employed in I.T.

4.  I had five different jobs and twelve different offices while employed by the same organization. (And I had to clean most of those offices before they were up to my standards,)

5.  I won my first award for writing in the sixth grade.


Harmony Duprie enjoyed her well-ordered life in the quiet little town of Oak Grove—until her arrest for drug trafficking. Cleared of all charges, she wants nothing more than to return to the uneventful lifestyle of a historical researcher she once savored.

But when her beloved old car “George” is stolen and explodes into a ball of flames, it sets off a series of events that throws her plans into turmoil. Toss in a police detective that may or may not be interested in her, an attractive but mysterious stranger on her trail, and an ex-boyfriend doing time, and Harmony’s life freefalls into a downward spiral of chaos.

Now she has to use her research skills to figure out who is behind the sinister incidents plaguing her, and why. And she better take it seriously, like her life depends upon finding the right answers.

Because it might.


             “Harmony Duprie?” he asked, stopping his fist just before it made contact with my chest.
            Yeah, that’s my name. Obviously, my parents didn’t hang around many strip clubs before they came up with the moniker. I took a step backwards. “Yes?” I asked, wondering what I had done wrong now.
            “I’m Officer Felton. Do you own a,” he checked a slip of paper in his hand, “a 1979 blue Ford Pinto?”
            “George? Why yes I do, he’s parked out on the street.” The car was around the corner and I couldn’t see him, but I parked him the same place every time. The local police knew my car, so why was the officer asking about him?
            “Did you loan your car to anyone, Ms. Duprie?”
            “No.” I felt a tickle of worry at the base of my skull. “Why?”
            He sighed. “I have bad news. It appears your car was stolen.”
            I pushed past him, leaned over the railing and tried to see my parking spot. “Did you find him?”
            “George. My car. I call him George.” Because like the Abominable Snowman in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, that’s what I always wanted. My own little car.
            “Your car has been totaled, Ms. Duprie.”
            Stomach churning, I leaned against the door frame with a casualness I didn’t feel. “What happened?” Not that it would take much damage to total George, as old as he was.
            His radio beeped and his eyes took on intense stare of someone listening intently to a voice I couldn’t hear. He leaned down and spoke into the black box on his shoulder. “10-4. We’re on our way.”
He looked at me. “Detective Thomason would like to speak to you at the office.”
            Now it was my turn to sigh. Detective Fred Thomason and I are not the best of friends. I have tried to avoid him, with little luck, since the first time he handcuffed me.  “I seem to be minus a car,”

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