Blurb
One
wedding party + one estranged mother = another vacation that goes
awry for Naomi.
Naomi
is off on another international vacation. She thinks traveling with
her mother will be the most difficult part of her trip until she
meets the rest of the tour group—a wedding party. It only gets
worse when she finds the groom dead. Everyone’s a suspect on her
Icelandic tour of this stunning country.
Excerpt
NÆSTA
MORGUN {NEXT MORNING}
I
had only one thought at breakfast. How did a young man die on
vacation? There was no accident, no trauma, no nothing. He was fine
one moment. Dead the next. It didn’t make sense.
I
looked at my phone. I did the quick math. It was the middle of the
night for Charlotte. I still considered calling. Awake Charlotte or
just woken up Charlotte would give me the same answer—I had lost my
mind. Just woken up Charlotte would be more angry about it.
I
could hear her saying that it was ludicrous that I had found a dead
body on vacation. Again. But this wasn’t a murder.
Milo’s
death had to be what it appeared to be. A tragic accident. He
drowned. The police were doing their due diligence in the unexpected
death. An autopsy would reveal an accident. I could return to
enjoying my vacation, with my mother.
Or
at least trying to.
“What
are you doing?” I asked my mother when I returned to the room after
breakfast.
She
was writing in a notebook, as if she were journaling. It had to be
her latest fad.
“Recording
my recollection of the event,” she answered.
“Didn’t
the police take your report?” I asked.
“Yes.”
She put her pen down and closed the book. “But this is for
Dateline.”
“For
what?” I asked
“For
the investigation show. You have to know it. I watch every weekend.”
“And
why would you need notes?” I asked.
“Because
I’m sure we’ll be called in.” There was an excitement in her
voice that was disturbing. “We were eyewitnesses. You pointed it
out to that guide.” She seemed oddly proud of that.
“Sigi,”
I told her.
“Yeah,
the guide. They’ll probably want to talk to him too. But maybe his
company won’t let him talk to the press. It’s not really the
publicity the touring company would want, right?”
I
ignored her question. “Did you see something useful?” I asked.
“Not
that I know of. But these shows would want to talk to anyone who
could give them any perspective. I had a bird’s-eye view of all of
you. You were only a few feet away. You flirted with the dead man
shortly before his death.”
“I
did not flirt with the groom, Mother.”
“I’m
not judging,” she retorted. “He was a good-looking guy. You’ve
done worse. Do what you want on vacation. Anyway, the shows won’t
care.”
“Shows?”
I asked.
“Definitely.
There’s 48 Hours, plus the ID Network has a bunch of shows. We
would do them all.”
This
was not the mother-daughter bonding I had envisioned. Not that I had
ever envisioned mother-daughter bonding for us.
She
didn’t note my horror and continued, with even more excitement.
“New groom dies on vacation. That’s a big story. Plus, he’s
handsome. They always love when the handsome ones die.”
“Mother!”
I rebuked. “He drowned. Why would Dateline or any of those shows do
a story on a drowning?”
“Because
he was murdered! Had to be. Who drowns snorkeling in clear calm
water? I Googled it. No one has died there before. You heard the
police. They told us to stay in town.”
“Considering
our return flight isn’t for several days, I think we’re good.”
I went into the bathroom but then stopped. “What do you mean you
Googled it?” My mother was not good with technology. That was more
her mother’s area of expertise. “Let me see this Google search.”
She
handed me her phone. The detective had told me others had died there.
I couldn’t imagine he would be wrong. Or worse, that my mother was
right.
I
hit her internet browser and pulled up her last search. “Death at
Thingamajig.”
I
handed her back her phone. “We were at Thingvellir yesterday,
Mother. Not at ‘Thingamjig’.”
“Close
enough,” she said, dismissing me.
I
didn’t bother Googling deaths in Iceland for her. We still had a
few more days on vacation and I wanted to leave the hotel again.
I
glanced at my watch. “We have two hours until our tour.”
“What
tour?” she asked.
“Check
the itinerary. I’m going to walk around Reykjavík.”
The
hotel was at Old Harbour with the city center only a few blocks away.
As I exited the hotel, I took in the harbour’s pier with the many
fishing and tour boats docked. The pier was lined with large teal
buildings, housing restaurants and touring services. Mount Esja was
in the distance.
I
took a deep breath of the clean air. No smog here. Other than
spending time with Pops as a child, I could not remember ever
breathing air as fresh.
I
read the harbor’s sign about the touring companies stationed there.
Whale-watching options were plentiful. I’d have to check back later
on pricing when they opened.
My
phone rang as I walked up the hill toward the city center. I almost
didn’t check it, assuming it was my mother, asking where we were
going later. I was surprised when I saw Charlotte’s name and face
appear.
“What
is it with you and finding dead bodies on vacation?” she asked when
I accepted the video call.
“I
didn’t find a dead body on this vacation,” I answered.
“That’s
not what Mom said.”
I
closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I shouldn’t have been
surprised my mother had told Charlotte. I should be surprised that I
didn’t get this phone call last night. “Okay, technically, I
found it. I noticed it before anyone else and I pointed it out to the
guide. But the guide really found it.”
She
smiled. “You certainly found your travel partner on this one,
didn’t you?"
“What
do you mean?” I asked.
“Mom!
She’s keen on the whole murder thing.”
“The
man drowned. It’s a shame. Tragic, really. But not murder.”
She
huffed. “Ooh. I get it.”
I
didn’t like her tone. I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew it
wasn’t good. “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.
“Mom
thinks it’s a murder, so you think it’s an accident. You always
have to take the opposite side from her.”
About
the Author
A
R Kennedy lives in Long Beach, New York, with her two pups. She works
hard to put food on the floor for them. As her favorite T-shirt says,
‘I work so my dog can have a better life'. She’s an avid
traveler. But don’t worry. While she’s away, her parents dote on
their grand-puppies even more than she does. Her writing is a
combination of her love of travel, animals, and the journey we all
take to find ourselves.
Instagram
https://www.instagram.com/ark_author/
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A.R.
Kennedy will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn
winner
