Duality by K.J. McGillick - Book Blitz
Duality
Two sides of the same
coin. Completely alike. Completely different.
When the painting
disappears and both women are found dead, the police think it’s an open and
shut case. The husband - it’s always the husband. He had means, motive, and
opportunity, and acted strangely cold after the fact.
Is it a case of mistaken
identity? Does a secret relationship put Mr. Martin in the crosshairs of
an assassin sent to retrieve the painting? Or is he really a sociopath forger
with mysterious ties to the Vatican?
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Excerpt
“I follow Dalia’s line of thinking.
It might appear that since I had access to her home, I may be the thief and
murderer.” He suddenly stopped speaking, leaving us to hang on to his next
words.
“Mr. Martin, are you still there?”
Dalia called out to him.
“A moment, I see something under her
head, a paper,” Mr. Martin replied.
“I thought I told you to leave the
room,” Dalia said, her tone terse. “Please don’t touch it. Can you describe
it?”
There was a moment of silence as we
waited for him to inspect the paper.
“Odd. It appears to be a portion of a
painting by Botticelli. More specifically, Botticelli’s Map of Hell; it is the
one which represents Dante’s Divine
Comedy. You know, the public always gets it wrong by labeling it ‘Dante’s
Inferno’—” he started to say before I cut him off.
“Don’t need a literature lesson at one
A.M., we just need your impressions,” I said.
“This portion of the piece represents
a Malebolge. Dante divided the Eighth Circle of Hell into ten ditches of the
damned; this one represents the seventh ditch where thieves were damned. These
wretched souls’ hands were bound behind their backs by snakes,” he said and
took an audible loud breath. “It almost looks like the way Melanie’s hands are
bound.”
Oh my God, what kind of sick mind had
we stumbled upon?
“You can stop there; I’ve heard
enough. Mr. Martin, go back upstairs. Mary, get dressed. I will be there in ten
minutes to pick you up. Mr. Martin, text me Melanie’s address, we are on our
way. Call the police right now and report the crime. Do not say anything until
I get there!” Dalia instructed.
I wrestled with addressing a problem
I felt needed a resolution.
“And, Mr. Martin, we have to cut to
the chase here, time is of the essence. Your communication can come across as
abrasive and insensitive to people who do not know you. So, try to have as
little verbal interaction as possible with the police. We don’t want your
demeanor to take you from a witness to a person of interest, understand?” I
added.
“Um, I see,” was his flat reply.
“Christ, Mary, this is not the time.
Now, hang up. I am on my way,” Dalia said.
People just did not seem to
appreciate my keen power of observation sometimes.
Author Bio –
K. J.
McGillick was born in New York and once she started to walk she never stopped
running. But that's what New Yorker's do. Right? A Registered Nurse, a lawyer
now author.
As she evolved so did her career choices. After completing her graduate degree
in nursing, she spent many years in the university setting sharing the dreams
of the enthusiastic nursing students she taught. After twenty rewarding years
in the medical field she attended law school and has spent the last twenty-four
years as an attorney helping people navigate the turbulent waters of the legal
system. Not an easy feat. And now? Now she is sharing the characters she loves
with readers hoping they are intrigued by her twisting and turning plots and
entertained by her writing
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