Without Any Warning (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 2)

Without Any Warning

A Samantha Jamison Mystery

Volume 2

A Novel

by

Peggy A. Edelheit

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Without Any Warning: A Samantha Jamison Mystery, Volume 2

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Copyright © 2011 by Peggy A. Edelheit.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be
reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled,
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The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Cover designed by Peggy Edelheit

Cover art:

Copyright © iStockPhoto #5704414

Edited by Winslow Eliot

http://www.winsloweliot.com

Published by Telemachus Press, LLC

http://www.telemachuspress.com

ISBN #978-1-937387-71-6 (eBook)

ISBN #978-1-937387-72-3 (paperback)

Version 2012.05.07

To The Girls!

Ro & Connie,

Renee, Liz & Val

Beth & Judy

To old girlfriends, new ones & those I have yet to meet

To my two favorite Pats, Magdalene, Moyra

Diane, Barb, Kathy, Sandi & Joyce

To all my readers

I could go on and on…

You know who you all are

& of course, Samantha

Chase your Dreams

& Remember,

Every Day is a Blessing

With Special Love to Bob

Who still owns my heart and is

My biggest supporter and confidant

Marc, Aaron & Jonathan

You guys are the best

Acknowledgments

IT Technical Support

Jon Denz

A Special Thanks To

Winslow Eliot, Editor

Without Any Warning

A Samantha Jamison Mystery

Volume 2

Chapter 1

Past & Present Accounted For

So, I was drumming my fingers on my laptop, staring out from my desk at those waves hitting the beach, instead of what I should have been doing: typing.

Not a good sign.

My unanticipated writer’s block was killing me, plus that damn view was throwing a monkey wrench in my routine, making it impossible to concentrate. The cursor blinked on the screen, but my eyes kept wandering to bicycle riders pedaling down the boardwalk.

When I rented this house on the island of Ocean City, New Jersey, I figured it was the perfect setup. You know, the beach, peace and quiet. The words would fly from my fingertips.

Right.

The problem was, every time I tried to focus, people, kites, surfers, bicycles, boats or something else caught my interest and there went my so-called good intentions. Even though the hurricane-proof glass muted the sounds outside, the visual distractions alone did me in.

Why was I there? To be honest, the real reason for being at the beach was to get away from everybody offering me advice on how to live my life and plan my future, and also to focus on writing. So, only my close friends, agent, and editor knew exactly where I was. A bonus? I wrote under a pen name. Otherwise, my phone would be ringing off the hook.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I loved my life. It was my former life, and everything that went with it, from which I was taking a break.

My theory? It was just a matter of self-discipline. If I wanted to pound out a new book, then I had to focus, tune out everything, that was all. I turned.

Would drapes help? Maybe in beige. How about blinds?
Maybe I should move my desk over there
...

I sighed, annoyed at myself once again. Like I said, I have a tendency to get sidetracked and I knew it was too soon for frustration to be setting in. But after a few more days of these rewrites, if the well was still looking parched, maybe then I’d panic.

I looked at my laptop, stumped, not having the vaguest idea why such a straightforward task eluded me. Then I remembered that the unexpected always happens when you least expect it—a valuable lesson I learned from my last book,
The Puzzle
, which literally rewrote my life.

I sat there, slumped back in my chair, wavering on the umpteenth opening, when my phone rang. Relieved, I smiled, receptive for one more excuse not to stay focused on what was proving to be a major brain-cramp.

As I reached for the phone, I noticed it said
caller unknown
.

“Hello,” I said, tucking some annoying, loose blond strands back on my haphazardly clipped, upswept hair. This beach hair thing was proving somewhat hard to tame.

“Samantha? Guess who this is?”

 
“Mona?”

A few years back, Mona had vanished after phoning and announcing that she was flying off to Europe to get married, her hurried words spewing the news while my mind tried to take it all in. Initially shocked, I barely had time to say I wished her the best when she abruptly ended the call. I had collapsed into a chair and stared at my cell phone, stunned.

Mona had promised to fill me in when she returned, but I never heard from her again. I searched for months, but every avenue I pursued became a dead end. Faced with her disconnected phone, no family to speak to, and not knowing her married name, how could I find her?

Now, as I heard her voice again, a trace of suspicion shifted in me.

Why was she calling after all this
time?
What did she want? Why hadn’t I been able to find her?
As usual, my questions and intuition started tripping over one another.

“How did you get my cell number?” I asked, perplexed, because since we last spoke, I had changed it.

“Your editor Sandra remembered me, and after some major begging on my part, she swore me to secrecy, saying you’re renting a home on the beach working on your next book. Last I heard, you were building a home in Highlands, North Carolina, with your husband Stephen. So, you can imagine my shock when Sandra explained his unexpected death. Sam, I’m so sorry. I wish I had known...”

After all this time, how strange to be hearing from her! Knowing Mona, there was more, and I wanted to know the real reason she was calling. I waited impatiently for the silence to end. Besides, I was so thrown by her call, I couldn’t think of one damn coherent thing to say, but then I felt red flags going up.

“…That’s why I absolutely refuse to take no for an answer,” she said. “We must get together before more time slips away. You’re speechless, right? Look, I’m in your area and thought I would stop by. How about it, Sam?”

I was still in the disbelief stage as I checked my watch. “…Well sure! …Of course! …When do you want to come over?”

Would she finally shed some light on her last cryptic phone call?

“How about right now?” she asked, laughing. “No time like the present to talk about the past.”