Talk about a disaster. Here’s the opening couple of paragraphs:
“HEY, MALONE. HOW can we expect to get a Pulitzer in this backwater?”
I wanted to roll my eyes. I had been nominated for the top prize in investigative journalism twice, but never won. My topic for this seminar to a sister newspaper’s staff was finding big stories and working sources. However, Biff and Bob, I think that’s what they said their names were, heckled me just for kicks.
This routine was familiar. I’d been known to do it when I was required to attend a seminar or two in the past. The rest of the afternoon was going to be painful, if I didn’t stomp on these two and fast. I didn’t do painful. I was an award-winning journalist who covered the crime beat. I was immensely qualified to lead this seminar after receiving national headlines on a story in each of the last two years.
Argued with my editor five ways to Sunday, but nothing would persuade him to not send me.
After the first session I decided to relax at the local pub. Walked right into my class reunion. I never planned to return to this God-forsaken place of my birth but then I saw Trudy, the homecoming queen. She took a second look at me and we were really hitting it off. Problem was she turned up dead the next day and I was wanted for murder.
Something was mighty fishy in my home town and I had motivation to dig deeper. Every time I thought I was getting close to the truth, it wasn’t. I couldn’t believe all the secrets I uncovered.
Check out A CASE OF HOMETOWN BLUES for yourself…
http://www.amazon.com/Case-Hometown-Blues-W-Gager/dp/1610090179/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1311040194&sr=1-1
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