Book Review: Sasha Plotkins Deceit by Vaughn Sherman

Synopsis:

It is 1972, and the Soviet Union has succeeded in planting a mole in the top echelons of the Central Intelligence Agency. Three years earlier, CIA officer Chris Holbeck took part in a failed mission to engineer the defection of a Soviet KGB officer who may know the mole’s identity.
His name is Sasha Plotkin. When they were both stationed in Stockholm, Sweden, in 1969, Chris and Sasha connected on a personal level. Chris was excited to find a KGB officer interested in changing sides. Then, on the day of the Soviet agent’s defection, Sasha was a no-show. Chris would soon discover the full extent ofSasha Plotkin’s deceit. Now Sasha has resurfaced and wishes to make another attempt to defect. To Chris’ dismay, he is the only CIA officer the man will consent to deal with, even though their once close relationshipis now riddled with mistrust. Chris’s wife, Lisa, has sworn to leave him if he abandons her and the family for one more perilous mission. His alluring young colleague Bisan seems determined to seduce him. Despite the risk to his life and his marriage, Chris answers the call of duty. If Chris succeeds in transporting Sasha to theUnited States–come hell or high water–will the Soviet agent reveal the true identity of the mole? One thing is certain: the lives of the two men will be forever changed.
Sasha Plotkin’s Deceit reads almost as a memoir of a real CIA agent’s life. It is much more than a spy novel. Amid the action and suspense, another drama emerges, based on the relationships between the three main characters—Chris, his wife Lisa, and KGB agent Sasha Plotkin—one of love, friendship, and betrayal. Chris’s love for his neglected wife Lisa. Chris’s burgeoning friendship with Sasha Plotkin, a fascinating, flawed man with a terrible past who gains the personal and professional trust of his American counterpart only to dash that trust to pieces. This betrayal is so much more complicated than it first appears. The ending is at once surprising, uplifting and devastating.

About the Author:

Vaughn Sherman’s career as a fisheries biologist was cut short when he was recruited by the Central Intelligence Agency. He served long assignments in the Far East and Europe before doing a short tour in Vietnam. After taking early retirement Vaughn joined in numerous community activities, most involving the governance of non-profit agencies and community colleges. In addition to Sasha’s Plotkin’s Deceit, he has written the memoir of a northwest mariner titled An Uncommon Life (1988). He has also published three books dealing with the management of non-profits.

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Book Excerpt:

FRIDAY DAWNED MUCH LIKE THE DAY OF HIS LAST MEETING WITH
PLOTKIN, COLD AND CLEAR WITH NEW SNOW. SUCH A PRETTY DAY THAT THIS TIME HE
RESOLVED NOT TO RETURN TO THE EMBASSY AFTER SIGNALING PLOTKIN AT NK THAT THE
MEETING WAS ON. AFTER THE SAFETY SIGNAL AT TEN O’CLOCK, HE’D GO DIRECTLY
HOME, MAYBE HAVE A CHANCE TO CHAT WITH LISA BEFORE LUNCH.UPON LEAVING THE EMBASSY, HE NOTED THAT THE SUN HADN’T WARMED THE AIR AT
ALL. THE SQUEAKING SNOW UNDER HIS FEET CONFIRMED HOW COLD IT WAS AS HE
WALKED TOWARD HIS CAR. THE SHADOWS FROM THE TREES ALONG STRANDVÄGEN
WEREN’T QUITE AS LONG AS THEY HAD BEEN LAST WEEK AT THIS TIME. STOCKHOLM
WAS ON THE DOWNHILL RIDE TOWARD SPRING. IN THE SCANT HOUR HE’D BEEN AT THE
EMBASSY THE CAR HAD COOLED OFF COMPLETELY. HE LET IT WARM UP BEFORE DRIVING
DOWNTOWN TO WAIT THE FEW MINUTES AT NK FOR PLOTKIN’S SAFETY SIGNAL. NO
POLICEMAN THIS TIME, AND NO PLOTKIN VISIBLE IN THE PARK. BUT THEN HE
HADN’T SEEN PLOTKIN LAST TIME, EITHER.
NEXT HE HEADED WEST FROM THE CITY, TOWARD HOME. CHRIS ENJOYED THE DRIVE AND
WAS FEELING GOOD AS HE SLID TO A STOP IN FRONT OF HIS HOUSE. LISA DIDN’T
REPLY TO HIS CHEERY “HELLO” WHEN HE LET HIMSELF IN THROUGH THE FRONT
DOOR. NOW WHAT? HER ACTIONS WERE SO STRANGE THESE DAYS HE WAS AFRAID SHE
MIGHT HAVE TAKEN OFF WITHOUT PREPARING THE LUNCH FOR PLOTKIN. A WALK THROUGH
THE DINING ROOM TO THE KITCHEN PUT HIS MIND AT EASE. THE TABLE WAS SET, AND
SOUP WAS SIMMERING ON THE STOVE. SHE MUST HAVE WALKED DOWN TO THE SHOPPING
SQUARE FOR SOME LAST MINUTE ITEMS. IT WASN’T YET TEN THIRTY, AND SHE HAD
NO REASON TO EXPECT HIM. HE WENT BACK TO THE FRONT WINDOWS TO LOOK DOWN THE
STREET, ON THE CHANCE THAT HE MIGHT SEE HER WALKING BACK. NO LISA, ONLY A
SKIER HEADING TOWARD DROTTNINGHOLM. THIS CASTLE WAS LOCATED NOT MUCH MORE
THAN A MILE FROM THEIR HOME ACROSS DROTTNINGHOLM BRIDGE. IT WAS A FAVORITE
RESIDENCE OF THE ROYAL FAMILY AND SURROUNDED BY A PARK OPEN TO THE PUBLIC.
HE AND LISA HAD SKIED THERE SEVERAL TIMES WITH THE CHILDREN DURING THE
CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS.
AN IDEA STRUCK. CHRIS WENT QUICKLY TO HIS BEDROOM TO CHANGE INTO LONG JOHNS
AND SKI PANTS, THEN TO THE FRONT HALL FOR HIS SKI PARKA, HAT AND MITTENS.
NEXT HE WENT TO THE GARAGE FOR HIS SKIS. HE’D SKI DOWN TO THE SQUARE TO
PICK UP LISA AND COME BACK WITH HER. OUTSIDE THE GARAGE DOOR, HE SLAPPED HIS
SKIS DOWN ON THE NEW SNOW AND FASTENED THE CABLE BINDINGS.
OUT ON THE STREET CHRIS LOOKED IN THE DIRECTION OF THE SQUARE. STILL NO
LISA. NOBODY, IN FACT, ON THE STREET. IN THE OTHER DIRECTION THE SKIER HAD
LONG SINCE DISAPPEARED. AN HOUR SKIING AT DROTTNINGHOLM WOULD PROBABLY DO
HIM MORE GOOD THAN TRYING TO TALK WITH LISA.
FEW PEOPLE WERE OUTDOORS ON THIS WORK AND SCHOOL DAY. IT WAS TERRIBLY COLD,
BUT THE ATMOSPHERE BROUGHT SOME NEEDED PEACE TO CHRIS. HE FELT GOOD. THE
CHILDREN IN THEIR NEIGHBORHOOD WERE ON SKIS MOST EVERY AFTERNOON. AS HE USED
HIS POLES TO PUSH HIMSELF ALONG AND KEEP HIS BALANCE, HE THOUGHT ABOUT HOW
MISSY AND HER FRIENDS SKIED MERRILY ALONG WITH NO POLES. AH, TO BE YOUNG
AGAIN!
THERE WAS A KNOLL OFF THE BEATEN PATH IN THE PARK WHERE SOMEBODY HAD BUILT A
SMALL SKI JUMP, MAYBE A COUPLE OF FEET HIGH. PROBABLY SOME OF THE OLDER BOYS
WHO LIVED NEARBY. CHRIS THOUGHT ABOUT TRYING IT.
HE’D DO IT.
CLIMBING THE KNOLL TOOK MORE OUT OF HIM THAN HE’D EXPECTED. WHEEZING AT
THE TOP, HE MADE HIS WEEKLY RESOLVE TO START AN EXERCISE PROGRAM. THE KNOLL
WASN’T HIGH, BUT LOOKING DOWN THE RUN TO THE JUMP, IT APPEARED A LOT MORE
IMPRESSIVE THAN FROM THE BOTTOM. WELL, HE HAD BEEN A PRETTY GOOD SKIER
DURING COLLEGE DAYS. THERE WASN’T ANYBODY IN SIGHT TO EMBARRASS HIM IF HE
BOTCHED THE LITTLE JUMP. HE POLED HARD AND HEADED DOWNHILL.
TWO THINGS SURPRISED CHRIS. FIRST, HIS SKIS WERE MUCH FASTER THAN EXPECTED.
WHEN HE STARTED OUT HE ALMOST LOST HIS BALANCE BACKWARDS. THEN, WHEN HE DUG
IN THE POLES AND LAUNCHED HIMSELF ON THE JUMP, HE WENT MUCH HIGHER THAN HE
THOUGHT HE WOULD. IN THE FEW SECONDS HE WAS IN THE AIR HE REALIZED THAT HE
HAD OVERCOMPENSATED FOR THE FIRST MISTAKE. NOW HE WAS LEANING TOO FAR
FORWARD. HE TRIED TO BRING UP THE TIPS OF HIS SKIS AND FAILED, HITTING THE
SNOW WITH THE TIP OF ONE SKI. HE SOMERSAULTED, BOUNCED ON HIS SHOULDERS,
MADE A HALF-ROLL AND CAME TO A STOP WITH HIS RIGHT SKI BURIED IN THE SNOW.
HIS LEG MUST BE BADLY TWISTED, HE THOUGHT. HE MOVED TO UNTANGLE HIMSELF AND
CAME CLOSE TO FAINTING. IT WAS MORE THAN A TWIST, FOR SURE. THE PAIN WAS
AWFUL WHEN HE TRIED TO MOVE.CHRIS LAY BACK, CHILLED, AND FELT THE PANIC START. NOBODY WAS IN SIGHT.

My Review:

If you’re a fan of classic spy fiction then I suggest you get Sasha Plotkin’s Deceit without delay. As I turned the pages of this book I was reminded of some of the best of them. The Le Carré’s, and Deighton’s; of classic East Vs. West espionage, with a troubled hero and an enigmatic foreign operator.
Set predominately in Sweden the story takes place over a number of years at the end of the 1960’s and early 1970’s and Vaughan Sherman brings that time back clearly through the pages of his story. The passage of time is important in the telling of the story and acts as both plot and subplot with the two main characters taking on the bulk of the story without the need for multiple additional identities confusing the reader. That said the vulnerability of Chris’ relationship with his wife is also critical, and well told as a side love story between the two.
I loved the simplicity of the story, it was well told without the author feeling the need to spoil it with unnecessary action to “spice-up” the spy element. There was tension without flash-bang heroics and this made the overall story much more believable than it would have been if the pages had been filled with break-neck action and adventure. The story was not slow however and cracked along at a good pace, keeping me turning the pages until late in the evening on more than one occasion.
I really enjoyed Sasha Plotkin’s Deceit and would recommend it. It holds a good story and makes for a great read.

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars – I really liked it.

Guest Post: Jen Estes; Author of Curveball

Jen Estes is my guest on the blog today, I recently reviewed her new book, “Curveball”, a story of baseball set on a tropical island. I asked Jen

Baseball and the colour of a tropical paradise; what prompted you to write a series with the background of baseball, and why did you select the second one to be based in ‘Santo Domingo’ rather than a more familiar surrounding?

Here’s what she had to say:

When it comes to choosing a setting, there are three popular methods. The first is choosing a location close to your heart — maybe your hometown or current city. (Not only does this familiar route give your story the ring of truth, you’ll save oodles of time on research.) But sometimes familiarity isn’t an option, so you have to choose a setting based on your story instead. (Just because you’ve never been outside of Kansas doesn’t mean your mermaid detective has to fight crime in her underground city beneath a local water treatment plant.) Now if neither of those methods tickle your toes, you can always close your eyes, give a globe a big spin and point, then throw your characters in whatever city your finger landed. For Curveball, I chose the second route. (Mostly because my finger landed in the middle of the Pacific when I spun the globe.)

While my first book in the series, Big Leagues, was set in Las Vegas, Cat McDaniel’s career as a sportswriter kept her on the move — I was constantly creating new stadiums for her to visit and new characters for her to meet. That was a lot of fun, but in the sequel, one of her obstacles is being saddled with chaperoning the general manager’s daughter, Paige Aiken. As such, I didn’t want to give Cat a way to “escape” from Paige’s antics. Putting her in the Caribbean training camps during the offseason was my way of chaining her to Paige.

Timing also played a factor in my setting. Curveball directly follows the introduction in the series, Big Leagues, which concluded as baseball season was toward its end. By the time Curveball begins, it’s late November — which is when many Latin American players return home to train in their team’s camps and aspiring ballplayers are being scouted.

Authenticity was key too. The Dominican Republic is a baseball nation and Major League Baseball has a huge presence within the city, with real-life training facilities just like the one in my book (though Cat’s team is the fictional Buffalo Soldiers.) When I visited Santo Domingo, I fell in love with the city’s passion for baseball. There’s actually a chapter where Cat goes to a local baseball game that very much echoed my experience at a Tigres del Licey game. The atmosphere is spellbinding and I knew then that I had to get Cat down to this baseball paradise.

Though I was writing an unfamiliar setting, it helped that my main character is supposed to be unfamiliar with it. She’s a tourist. She’s not expected to know local lore or regional traditions. Though an everyday citizen might not even pay attention to Catedral Primada de América, the famous landmark leaves Cat breathless. Like me, Cat saw Santo Domingo through the romantic and strange eyes of a tourist.

 

Book Review: Curveball by Jen Estes

Synopsis:
Baseball reporter Cat McDaniel specializes in exposés. Now that very talent has left her unemployed. Desperate to get off the bench and back into the lineup, she is thrilled to land an interview with the Buffalo Soldiers’ General Manager Roger “Rakin’” Aiken–Baseball legend, eight-time All Star … and oblivious father to a Major League bratty co-ed named Paige. Aiken offers Cat the team writer position for the following spring, but the opportunity is tempered by a curveball of a caveat: she must first spend the winter as a blogger reporting on the Latin American training facility. She is also supposed to look out for Paige, nominally the team’s newest scouting assistant. Being a glorified babysitter and chaperone still beats being an out-of-work sportswriter. Cat reluctantly leaves behind her gorgeous boyfriend Benji and accompanies the party girl to sunny Santo Domingo to balance baselines and conga lines. Paige falls for Chance Hayward, an agent who plays hardball—the figurative kind. Joining them on the field is Paige’s ex, Junior DeLeon, one of the coaches who’d really like to score with Cat. When an aspiring player turns up dead, it is up to Cat and Junior to devise a game-changing strategy. Will Cat’s snooping work in her favor this time, or will she strike out … losing her job, her boyfriend and her life? Curveball follows Big Leagues as Book 2 of the Cat McDaniel Mysteries, also known as the Foul Ball series.

About The Author:


Born and raised in Illinois, Jen Estes started her writing career as a baseball blogger in 2007 and expanded to freelance sports writing in 2009. She is an active member of the Society of American Baseball Research (SABR), Springfield Poets & Writers and the National Writers Union (NWU). Curveball is the second in a series featuring sassy sports writer Cat McDaniel. When Jen isn’t writing, she enjoys running, yoga, traveling and watching baseball with her husband and cat.

Author Website
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Book Excerpt:

As they walked out of the restaurant, Cat caught the eye of a busy Cristian and waved goodbye. She tapped Chance on the shoulder. “That reminds me, we want to talk to you about your client.”

“Oh, that’ll cost you and Paige.”

Cat gave him a wary look. “Cost us what?”

“A walk on the beach.” He extended both arms. “One for each of you.”

Paige eagerly locked her right arm with his, but Cat pressed his left arm down to his side. She kicked off her sandals and let them dangle from her fingers before begrudgingly following the duo onto the damp sand.

A few fisherman could be seen on the jetty a hundred yards away, but otherwise they had the beach to themselves. Her steps broke the moist clumps and the powdery sand spilled out over her toes. The sand massaged her soles as they moved closer to the breaking waves. Living in downstate Illinois most of her life, Cat didn’t take the relaxing sound of the oceanic thunder for granted. The soft wind whipped her skirt around her thighs. As they approached the shoreline, the restaurant odors of garlic and grease were replaced with a salty tinge of sea air. The half moon smiled down upon them. It was a perfect moment, until Chance spoke.

“Not bad, huh?”

He said it as though he was taking credit for the beautiful evening. Cat sneered in his direction but it was too dark for the message to be received.

Paige looked around the vacant beach. “There’s nobody here. Is it always like this at night?”

“Almost. We’re just about at the end of our rainy season so the beaches will be busier. But on weeknights, most of the action is in town.”

Their stroll was nearing the rocks that bordered the end of the beach and led out to the jetty. Cat pointed up at the fisherman. “What are they trying to catch?”

Chance shrugged. “Hell if I know. I only eat it; I don’t hunt it.”

Paige watched them thoughtfully. “My dad loves fishing. Says it’s the only true way to get away from the field.”

“Let’s sit for a minute.” He placed his jacket on the sand.

Cat shook her head. “I’m good with standing. I was hoping we could talk about Cristian.”

Chance sat on the sand with his knees in front of him. “We will.” He patted the jacket. “Paige?”

Paige tucked her dress beneath her thighs as she sat on it, facing the ocean.

He scooted closer to her. “What do you think?”

Paige’s eyes didn’t leave the water. “Of the ocean, dinner, or you?”

He chuckled. “All of the above.”

Cat held in a groan as she waited for his predictable moves, expecting the yawn and reach any minute now.

He didn’t yawn, but sure enough, his tan arm slivered around Paige’s bare shoulders.

“Hmm …” Paige tapped her chin thoughtfully. “The ocean is beautiful. Dinner was delicious. And you, well you kind of pale in comparison. Perhaps you should’ve grouped yourself with the fisherman and that weird pile of seaweed over there.”

With his phony chuckles, Chance was beginning to sound like the laugh track from an eighties sitcom. Cat tapped her foot on the sand, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Paige tossed him a playful smile, but then was distracted by the aforementioned pile of seaweed near the jetty. She cocked her head. “What is that?”

In tandem, Cat and Chance turned around. “What?”

Paige stood up, dusted her dress off and pointed. “Over there, in the rocks.”

Chance squinted. “Probably just some litter.”

Cat shook her head. “That doesn’t look like litter.” She took off toward it.

Chance bounced to his feet and caught up to her. The waves smacked the rocks with loud slaps. Cat took slow, deliberate steps, as though trying to sneak up on the mound of seaweed. Another foamy wave crashed onto the shore, this time taking the pile of seaweed back into the ocean with it. Before she could take another step, Chance reached his arm out to stop her. “Cat, don’t go any closer.”

Cat gasped, choking on the breath wedged in her throat. It was too late.

She’d seen the body.

 

My Review:

You know right from the outset that all is not as it seems in the world of Cat McDaniel, the world of baseball. Jen Estes paints a picture where you have to feel that Cat is the kind of person that finds trouble wherever she goes, and if she doesn’t trouble will soon find her.
Curveball takes place mostly in Santo Domingo, and the local character and scenery is not lost from the pages of the story, it adds an additional dimension that bring alive many of the scenes within the book.
Classed as a ‘cozy’, it is certainly that. An easy going read that moves along at a good pace, but do not expect flash-bang action here. The story of Curveball is more subtle than that, with very little to hint at the reveal towards the end and a little bit of misdirection as the plot progresses.
The characters are well grounded and seem alive and believable; from the likes of Paige, who I could quite cheerfully have strangled myself to the main protagonist Cat, who made a very believable hero, if perhaps a little naive at times.
You don’t have to be a huge baseball fan or knowledgeable about the sport to understand Curveball, if there is something you need to know the information is supplied. There were a couple of parts where the baseball terminology took over a bit, but they were in the spirit of the story and so didn’t really detract from the plot.
Overall Curveball is a good read, if you like your action thick and fast, then you might find it a little slow, but it’s worth sticking with as overall the story plays out well.

My Rating: 3 out of 5 stars; I liked it.

Giveaway:

As part of this tour, the publisher is offering an ebook copy of Curveball to be given away. For a chance to win, simply leave a comment below. A winner will be selected at random from all of the comments left, seven days after this post is published, i.e. 9th November 2012.

Author Guest Post: John Worsley Simpson

I sent the following prompt to author John Worsley Simpson as part of his virtual tour with Partners In Crime Tours:

Is crime fiction keeping pace with crime, or are criminals learning a few tricks from crime writers?

Here’s what he had to say:

Crime fiction is really murder fiction. With the exception of “heist” novels, few, if any, modern crime novels don’t involve murder. Other crimes, like robbery or theft, in the main lack the punch that makes the reader either want the criminal to be caught or wants him or her to get away with it.

Given that most murders are committed by family or friends of the victim, and involve no intrigue or complications of literary interest, the murderous works of crime fiction writers hardly provide blueprints for real-life killers. Most other killings are of the random variety — muggings and the like — that are equally bereft of the qualities that a crime fiction writer would adopt in his or her efforts. In other words, crime fiction is unlikely to offer anything that might be copied in a real crime of homicide.

Heist novels, on the other hand, seem to offer the potential of suggesting methods to a would-be perpetrator of such a crime, but the reality is that the knowledge that would be required to pull off a successful, complicated robbery (the kind that would be the fodder of a heist novel–an alley stick-up and similar fall far short of the dramatic requirements for interesting fiction) is case specific. You could write a generic plot about breaking into a generic bank vault, but that would be useless to a real criminal interested in breaking into the vault of a real, specific bank. What is more likely is the reverse: crime fiction authors may use real cases as the foundation for their plots: the details of an almost got-away-with murder or a complex robbery that emerge at a trial could be the meat of a novel for a mystery writer. So, I would say the few criminals who might inspire crime fiction are far ahead of the genre’s authors, while it’s unlikely that a mystery story could be a how-to for a potential criminal.

Book Showcase: Missing Rebecca by John Worsley Simpson

Synopsis:

John’s latest book, his fifth novel, Missing Rebecca, is a story of death and deception. After a whirlwind romance, Liam and Rebecca marry, knowing almost nothing of each other’s backgrounds. Only months later, on an afternoon shopping trip to a mall in the Buffalo, New York, suburb of Cheektowaga, Rebecca vanishes, seemingly abducted. Or did she make herself disappear? Was the marriage a sham? Was Liam a dupe? This is a novel of high crimes and dark shadows, involving the immensely profitable drug industry in which exclusive access to the market for a medication can mean billions of dollars, and holding on to that exclusivity might lead to lies, deceit, corruption, payoffs, and even murder.

ISBN-13: 9781475266603

About the Author:

JOHN WORSLEY SIMPSON is a crime-fiction writer. John was born in Bradford, Yorkshire, England, emigrated to Canada at the age of four and grew up in Toronto, He has been a reporter and editor in major newspapers and news services in North America, England and Ireland. He is married and lives in Newmarket, Ontario.

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“Okay.” The detective moved the computer mouse on the table and the screen lit up. He clicked on a folder and a video player opened; another click and the video began to play. The first scene was inside one of the mall’s entrances. In a moment, Liam and Rebecca entered the frame from the bottom of the screen, their backs to the camera.
“Is that you and your wife?” Welburn asked.
“It is, yes. It was a cold day, like today, so Rebecca wore her red, quilted ski jacket. I wore my pea coat and watch cap—hello, sailor,” Peters said, grinning vacuously, and immediately felt stupid.
“Sure. And right away you split up.”
“Rebecca likes to shop alone, which is great. As men, you must appreciate that.”
The detectives exchanged a glance and then nodded politely.
They ran the video for about an hour, various cameras picking up Rebecca in her bright red coat and ink-black hair. One scene showed Rebecca heading past the camera toward the mall exit, carrying a Lord & Taylor bag. The next scene showed Peters carrying a huge Hugo Boss bag, passing Rebecca as she re-entered the mall empty handed. He waved to her as he passed, and she turned down a side corridor that led to the restrooms.
“I took the jacket and pants I’d bought out to the car,” Peters explained. “Rebecca had a couple of outfits in her bag. She left them in the car, too. I found them later.”
Almost instantly, because of the truncating of the video by the technician, a man wearing a long, black overcoat, its collar turned up, and a sloping-brim, Irish-style, tweed hat appeared from the bottom of the screen, his back to the camera, as if he had just entered the mall. He was carrying a duffel bag. His shoulders were hunched and he walked with long, quick strides, so that he was around the corner and in the restroom corridor in a few seconds.
Welburn paused the video.
“Let me explain. I’ve watched the video before, a few times. The original showed this corner of the hall for some time. There is an emergency exit at the end of the corridor to the restrooms, and there are a couple of utility rooms. If the exit door had been opened, an alarm would have sounded, and a signal flashed in the security room. It wasn’t opened. There’s no camera in the restroom hallway, by the way. It’s only a short hall, fully visible from the main hall. Anyway, you’ll see when I start the video again that two people—the guy in the long coat—and a woman in a long coat and a wide scarf covering her hair and most of her face come out of the restroom hallway. The guy is holding the woman’s elbow. Okay, watch.”
As soon as the detective restarted the video, the couple he had described came hurrying around the corner in the direction of the camera. The hat and collar of the man concealed his face, as did the woman’s scarf cover hers. He seemed almost to be pushing her. He wasn’t carrying the duffel bag.
“Now, the entire rest of the video shows no one in a red ski jacket, or even anyone roughly resembling your wife come out of that corridor, or from straight down the hall.”
“That must have been her.”
“With the long-overcoat guy? Yeah we think so. The height looks about right, for instance. And—I’m sorry about this, but we checked with the lost-and-found at the mall, and they had a red ski jacket that looks exactly like the one your wife was wearing. It was found in the ladies washroom in the hallway we’re looking at. And the duffel bag the guy was carrying was in the hallway.”

Planting A Bulb Pot: A Quick & Easy Job For The Weekend

This is a quick and easy way to bring spring colour to any garden, but time’s running out and you really need to do this now.

You’ll Need:

Large Flower Pots (bulbs need to be planted about 3-4 times as deep as the bulb is tall, so you’ll need a pot large enough for your largest bulbs) – I used troughs, but that’s just personal choice.
Crock (for drainage)
Compost or soil
Bulbs of your choice (in my case daffodils, tulips and crocus).

First place the crocks and a layer of compost in the bottom of the pots.

Now place the first of your bulbs, in this case my daffodils were the largest of the bulbs I had so they went in first.

Cover these with soil. You can leave the tips of the bulbs showing in order to help with placing the next layer of bulbs. In this case, tulips for me.

Again cover with soil, and repeat with the final layer of bulbs, in my case crocus.

Cover with soil, and gently firm the top. I leave a gap between the top of the pot and the soil to make watering easier.

Now place in the garden where you want them for the spring. Job done.

I used a mixture of daffodils (about 15), tulips (again about 15) and crocus (about 40). I bought mine from the local farm shop, because it allows me to support a small local business, plus they are cheaper than the garden centre and I can buy them loose or already bag. They were 60p/lb (450g) for daffodils, £1.75 for 20 crocus, and £2.50 for 15 Tulips.

They should bring some colour from late January right the way through to May. When they finished flowering the pots can be moved from the garden, but they need to be stored in sunlight in order to allow for the bulbs to recoup the energy expended in flowering. Leave the greenery on, as without this recharge the bulbs will not flower next year.

 

Marwood Hill Gardens and Tapeley Park

We’ve just come back from a week in Devon. The weather was showery but that didn’t stop us visiting a couple of the gardens in the area that are still open to the public. Most are seasonal and close at the end of September, but a few remain open until the end of October. Two of these are Marwood Hill and Tapeley Park. Both are quite small, and you can easily get round them in a day.

Marwood Hill.

This small garden is focussed around a large pond, with a variety of areas, and a number of national collections (see their website for details).

Tapeley Park

Broken into a number of different areas, including a kitchen garden and a permaculture garden has its main focus around an Italian themed garden.

Finally is anyone able to help me identify this plant? I assume looking at the flower type and leaves that it is a member of the Lily family, but that’s about as far as my skills are able to take me.