By Sarah Graves
Again within the day, Jacobia “Jake” Tiptree became earnings coping with the fortunes of Manhattan’s such a lot lucky. Then she fled the rat race for a stately previous fixer-upper in easygoing Eastport, Maine. yet now a rat from a good darker nook of Jake’s prior has grew to become up…a killer with a blueprint for demolishing her new life.As a house fix fanatic, Jake is aware that not anything lasts forever—not home windows or doorways, now not plaster or plumbing. and never solid fortune.After greater than 3 many years eluding justice, the guy who murdered her mom is eventually approximately to face trial—until he vanishes into skinny air. Jake has a negative foreboding of the place Ozzie Campbell will happen subsequent. And whereas the neighborhood police leader is bound she’s overreacting, in actual fact a long way worse than even Jake’s worst fears.With her as a rule complete condo empty for a minimum of one other week, Jake has been watching for the unaccustomed peace and quiet. Now her comfortable, well-loved domestic feels extra like an important empty demise catch able to snap close. First a couple of out-of-towners sincerely no longer in Eastport for holiday take place asking questions about her. And if she has any doubt they’re hooked up to Campbell, these doubts are erased while he calls her with a grim caution. yet precisely what Campbell desires from her isn’t transparent, basically that he’ll cease at not anything to harm these closest to Jake. And his first sufferers are the main defenseless of all. all of sudden Jake can’t aid yet consider that her house—and her life—has a long way too many home windows. And in anyone of them she may possibly see the face of her killer.
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Extra resources for A Face at the Window (Home Repair Is Homicide Mysteries)
But that was all over and done with long ago, she reminded herself as, sighing, she peered into the hole. It was wet. Muddy, even. "Oh, hell," she pronounced. Straightening, she wiped her hands on her jeans and turned. "Bob, the guy murdered my mother. Strangled her, set a fire, blew up half a city block, and basically framed my father for it all. " The authorities had been happy to suspect Jacob Tiptree. He was already the kind of guy they liked making an example of, the kind who built bombs and exploded them as loudly and publicly as possible to highlight social injustice.
He'd spent the last few days trying to teach her how to handle a boat, using his own wooden dory out on Passamaquoddy Bay for a classroom. But she'd spent most of the time on the water with him just memorizing his face; if things went well for him in Portland, he'd be away from here all autumn and winter. " With her henna-purple hair twisted into a knot on her skinny neck and her ropily muscled arms poking from the sleeves of a red silk dress, Jake's housekeeper resembled a rawboned male prison inmate put forcibly through a department-store beauty makeover.
Anyway, I gotta go. There's a lady out near Dog Island complaining that kids were partying on the Knife Edge last night. " Beer parties on the cliffs at the south end of the island were a perennial problem. Only a few town kids attended out of the many who lived here, but when they got going, it seemed like a lot. "Trust teenagers to want to get drunk at the edge of a hundred-foot drop," he added resignedly. "So I need to go calm her down, I guess. " No surprise there, either; car versus deer incidents were a dime a dozen around here.