Authors: Donna Carrick
Tags: #Mystery, #Suspense, #Thriller
|The Noon God|
|Carrick Publishing (2006)|
|Tags:||Mystery, Suspense, Thriller|
Living in the shadow of greatness can be a difficult thing. Just ask Desdemona. When her father, the magnificent J. Caesar Fortune, is found murdered inside the offices of the Faculty of Art, there is no shortage of people who carried a grudge against him.
### About the Author
Donna Carrick was raised in the Canadian Military. She studied English literature and psychology at the University of Toronto. An accounting manager, wife and mother of three, she lives in Toronto, Ontario in Canada.
Print Edition Published 2006
Kindle Edition Published 2011
ISBN 13: 978
Edition, License Notes:
This e-book is intended for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be sold or given away to other people. If you did not purchase this e-book, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to
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LOGO DESIGN BY SARA CARRICK
THE NOON GOD
Copyright Donna Carrick 2010
Praise for The First Excellence
Winner of the 2011 Indie Book Event Award for excellence in fiction.
The Indie Book Collective
, July, 2011
Top Read for 2010! Donna Carrick has what should be, and hopefully WILL become, a best seller.
The Sunday Book Review
An exquisitely-crafted saga of one person’s search for her roots set against a clash of cultures. An intricate plot that mirrors the subtlety of China itself….
The Sherbrooke Record, February 18, 2011, also
compelling storylines…A complex mystery with multiple plots and a host of intriguing characters. …pleasantly unpredictable…
~ Kirkus Discoveries
I highly recommend this book, read it, you won’t be disappointed.
~ Barbara Kent, Success Books
I fell in love with this book from the first two paragraphs. It grabs your attention and doesn’t let go until well after you finish…
~ The Book Journal
Praise for Gold And Fishes
Meticulously researched…vivid and heart-wrenching…poignant and evocative…the gripping account of a global disaster….
Jim Napier, The Sherbrooke Record, May 18, 2007, also
Praise for The Noon God
The Noon God fascinates the reader with the brilliance of its stark choices and the hidden depths of its shadows.
Midwest Book Review
Praise for Sept-Îles and other places
Haunting and moving stories, an eclectic collection. I devoured every word.
Roberta Beach Jacobson, author of
Other titles by Donna Carrick:
The First Excellence ~ Fa-ling’s Map
Thanks as always to my husband, Alex, and to our children.
You are my final reality check.
For Deborah Anne Burris, sister and friend,
gone but never forgotten.
My mother once told me judgement was best left in the hands of God. Forgiveness was the virtue she most cherished. The older I get the more I understand the wisdom of her words.
Some days, though, her lesson gets lost under the trials of life. It was shaping up to be one of those days. A blue Corvette zipped into the last parking space. I fought back my anger and found a spot more than half a block away from the building.
It was noon when I killed the engine. The moment I stepped out of the car the August sun assaulted me. My hair felt clammy at the back of my neck. I rummaged in my bag, moving aside the library book and the black leather fanny pack I’d found one evening on the school ground.
So much for good intentions. I never did get around to dropping the pack off at the ‘lost and found’ office. I reached past it for an elastic band and twisted my hair into a ponytail. Then I tucked my bag under the passenger seat and locked the car.
The cool darkness of the Toronto City Morgue was almost a relief after the sweltering heat. The woman at the front desk told me to have a seat. I sat down and closed my eyes. I hadn’t slept much during the past week, ever since I’d reported my father missing.
I didn’t hear the Medical Examiner slip into the waiting room. My eyes flew open to find him standing near me. His slight build was a surprise. His voice on the phone had been deep and large.
Are you Desdemona Fortune?” he asked.
Mona.” We shook hands. His was small and twisted.
I’m Suruj Nil.”
I wanted to shut my eyes and rest under the shade of his voice. He withdrew his hand and turned, leading me down a long corridor. I knew what waited at the end of that hallway. It was Death.
It was my father, cold and lifeless on a gurney. It wasn’t surprise that gripped my bowels as I studied his features on the television monitor. It was something else – something less tangible.