Sunday, August 25, 2019

Duality by K.J. McGillick - Book Blitz

  Two sides of the same coin. Completely alike. Completely different.

      What started out as a normal art restoration project for Melinda Martin soon took on a life of its own. Could this unusual painting actually be a Botticelli masterpiece thought to have perished as part of Savonarola’s Bonfire of the Vanities? Had Melinda’s friend, Lana, a well-known art picker inadvertently acquired stolen art; art that might have ties to the occult and worth millions? Did a bad business decision endanger everyone who touched this potential treasure?
     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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“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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