About Fatal Development
by Inga Simpson
270 pages / 63600 words
ISBN:
978-1-60370-619-3
Available file types - html, lit, Adobe and Sony Optimized pdf, prc, epub,
paperback
When a body turns up in the courtyard of Dirk and Stacey’s apartment,
they turn to their friend and neighbor, Kersten Heller, for support. The
police assume the death was accidental, but when it comes to light that
the victim, a resident of the apartment building, was about to take
legal action against the building’s developers, Kersten decides there
must be a connection.
Kersten draws on old skills to investigate, hiding her activities, as
well as details of her past, from her partner, Toni. She soon discovers
what she's suspected all along. The victim was not alone on the roof
when he fell, and evidence he'd collected for his case against the
developer has gone missing.
Threats and mysterious stalking put pressure on Kersten, and Toni grows
impatient with her secrecy. With Dirk’s help, Kersten sets a trap to
prove her theories, but this case might unearth far more than she
bargains for.
Review
Jodi Payne, author of For Better or Worse, writes: Mysterious death. Covert sleuthing. Theories. Shady business dealings. Gut feelings. Money. Danger. Intrigue. The dark of night. Spying. These are some of the elements that make up a really good mystery.
Add to the mix a smart, hot woman with a bright future but a haunting past, and you have, in this reader's opinion, a perfect cocktail.
Fatal Development begins with the death of an unidentified man. Kersten Heller, our narrator and the smart, hot woman I referred to above, has more than a passing interest in the dead man as he was found in the courtyard of her friends' apartment. After inspecting the body for herself, relying on experience we later learn a great deal about, Kersten is drawn almost compulsively into discovering how he died. Unable to resist finding pieces of the puzzle herself and still working through the events of her own past, she soon becomes obsessed. She doesn't confide in her lover, she doesn't trust the police, and before long, she's put herself in danger.
It's a mystery after all, and so I won't give away any more, but I will say this: I had a crush on Kersten Heller's by the end of the first chapter. She's smart, but she isn't always at the top of her game. She's beautiful, but she is also flawed. I found myself alternately sympathizing with her and mentally trying to stop her from following through on her impulses. The story itself is a page-turner, full of all kinds of rich details that really bring the setting and the characters to life. It's just the kind of thing you want to lose yourself in on the beach or burn the midnight oil to finish.
Inga Simpson was an author unknown to me until I read this book, but I can assure you, she won't remain a mystery for long.
Sample
At the intersection, I stopped for passing traffic,
still debating whether I should keep going up to her street or head home.
There was a flash in my peripheral vision. It was too close. I raised my arm
and turned toward the movement. Before I could focus on the face, a rough
cloth was over my head and I was being half-carried, half-dragged onto the
street. I kicked and thrashed and connected with a shin bone but couldn't
stop them. I heard the boot slam shut above me and the car squeal away from
the curb.
I pounded my fists against the back seats and kicked against the boot. Had
anyone seen what happened? I'd known I was being watched. I should have been
more alert, changed all my routines, my jogging route. I should've seen this
coming.
Before my first posting, I'd had two weeks of intensive training with the
commandos on how to avoid roadside abductions just like this. In all my time
overseas -- through riots, a military coup, constant civil protests, and
operations gone wrong -- I'd never had cause to use it, but here I was in
the middle of sunny Brisbane, locked in a boot, speeding away to I didn't
know where. My teeth were clenched so tight my head hurt. I ripped off the
hessian bag and took a deep breath. It was dark but enough light came in
through the tail lights for me to feel around for a tool of some sort. There
was nothing. Even the spare tire cavity was empty.
By now we'd been traveling for several minutes and I had no idea where we
were. I'd been so busy being angry I'd forgotten to count the turns. I
forced a fire blanket of logic down over my rising panic. I was lucky; at
least they hadn't tied me up. I had two options. The first was to punch out
a tail light and try and get someone's attention, but I'd never put much
stock in the idea. If anyone did notice, they'd probably assume it was a
prank and do nothing, or take a photo and send it into the paper for the
section on amusing scenes around the city.
My kidnappers might just want to give me a fright and dump me somewhere, but
I had no intention of waiting to find out. When the car slowed and stopped,
I kicked with both feet at the boot catch, with all the force I could muster
but not much hope. It popped open. I was so surprised it took me a few
seconds to jump out and run. We were at a red light at the top of a hill, in
the middle of three lanes of traffic. I heard a male voice yell "She's out!"
behind me and a car door slam. I needed to know who they were, but I
couldn't waste time looking back.