Night of the Humpbacked Moon
A Jill Szekely Mystery
by
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The call came an hour before quitting time. My boss at Columbia University's Butler Library waved me to the phone. Puzzling as to who would bother me at work, I concealed my annoyance and tried not to bark out my "Hello."
In a sepulchral voice, my estranged husband, Zoltan, said, "Jill, Dorothea has been murdered." Before I could do more than gasp in surprise, he added, "The police seem to think I had something to do with it. I'm being held for questioning."
I didn't believe it. It was too improbable. "But Zoltan," I sputtered, "you're not--I mean, Dorothea is ..." He and Dorothea had something going long ago, one of those youthful romances never meant for permanence, but that was ancient history now. "It's been eons, hasn't it?"
He persisted, giving no clue that my question had even registered. "I need you to get in touch with my parents, Jill, and also contact Cousin Nadya. Would you do that for me, please?"
I hung up convinced he'd call back laughing at his prank. Yet I was puzzled, disturbed. Zoltan wasn't given to practical jokes. When it struck me he wouldn't kid around with me at my job--my spouse took all sources of income seriously--I called his apartment. A roomer who shared the place told me, "I'm sorry to scare you, but it's true. Our boy has been carted off by the police."
Could he be in on the foolishness? "Come on, George, quit your kidding. This is not funny. I'm at work and--"
"I'm not kidding. I didn't believe it either. A concert pianist--these things don't happen to people like him."
I sighed and hung up. Shaken, I took a break, went out to the corner drugstore equipped with change for long distance, and headed for the pay phone.
With some hesitation, I called my father-in-law, Janos, at his workplace in Schenectady. It hadn't been easy for me to talk to him since I'd left my husband. As I'd anticipated, Janos' tone grew cool and dismissive when he recognized my voice. Still, I somehow managed to convince him I had news. When I finished imparting it, he answered dubiously. "Someone's pulling your leg. My son knows better than to involve himself again with Dorothea."
"It was Zoltan's voice."
"Praksters can be good imitators," he reminded me.
--from Dorothea in the Mirror
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About the Book
When Jill Szekely arrives in San Diego to begin a temporary job as director of the EsCa, a crisis house for women, her first day is anything but normal. A strange man claiming to be an artist seeking a model keeps hanging around; another rebellious teenager has just showed up at the door; and, strangest of all, the EsCa’s founder and patron, Estelle Carruthers, has just been found murdered.
As bewildering array of clues point to both clients and staff, murder accusations begin to fly. Already struggling to handle the demands of an unfamiliar job, Jill must now call on the sleuthing skills she never knew she possessed in order to sort out puzzles that grow more complicated by the day. The list of suspects seems endless as Jill contemplates whether the murderer is a staff member, one of the adult residents, or, worse, one of the vulnerable teenagers seeking refuge from turmoil.
In this gripping mystery, the reputation of the EsCa as well as the young director’s future are on the line as a patron’s secrets are revealed and a bloodthirsty killer seeks revenge.
About the Author
LOIS WELLS SANTALO holds a bachelor’s degree from the University of Michigan and a master’s degree from the University of Arizona. She has taught composition classes at the University of Arizona, at Ohio University, and for the seniors program at San Diego State. Lois is the author of eight novels and a memoir.