Crimes of the Heart by Carolyn G. Hart

Author:Carolyn G. Hart [Hart, Carolyn G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0783813805
Publisher: G.K. Hall & Co.
Published: 1995-06-30T21:00:00+00:00

WITH THIS RING

MARGARET MARON

Margaret Maron went home to her North Carolina roots to write her ninth novel, Bootlegger’s Daughter, her first to feature Judge Deborah Knott. The result was publishing history. Bootlegger’s Daughter made a unique and unprecedented sweep of the top mystery awards, winning the Agatha, Anthony, Edgar, and Macavity for best novel. Deborah Knott’s adventures continue in Southern Discomfort and Shooting at Loons. Maron is also the author of seven exquisitely crafted and beautifully written Sigrid Harald novels, which are now being reissued. Coming soon is her eighth Sigrid Harald novel, Fugitive Colors. A nonseries novel, a prequel to Bootlegger’s Daughter, is Bloody Kin.

Maron is a past president of Sisters in Crime and a past national director of Mystery Writers of America and is active in the American Crime Writers League. She lives on the family farm near Raleigh, North Carolina.

Maron again visits Colleton County and Judge Knott in this delightful and oh-so-southern tale, “With This Ring.”

“Detective Bryant,” said Dwight’s voice when he finally picked up his extension at the Colleton County Sheriff’s Department.

“Can you still button the pants of your army dress uniform?” I asked.

“Say what?”

“I was out at your mother’s last week.” I let a hint of mischief slip into my tone. “She said that picture of you at the White House was taken only three years ago, but I reckon you’ve put on a few pounds since you came home and started eating regular.”

As if a district court judge has nothing better to do with her time than call just to needle him about his thickening waistline, Dwight bit like a large-mouth bass suckered by some plastic feathers and shiny paint.

“Listen,” he said. “I bet I can fit into my old clothes a lot better’n you could fit into yours.”

I reeled him in. “It’s a bet. Loser pays for the tickets.”

“Wait a minute. You want to back that mule up and walk her past me again?”

“The Widdington Jaycees are putting on a charity ball for Valentine’s Day,” I explained. “I know you don’t own a tuxedo, but—”

“You and that Chapin guy have a fight?” Dwight growled. “Or don’t he know how to dance in a monkey suit?”

For the life of me, I can’t understand Dwight’s attitude. It’s not like Kidd’s the first man he’s ever seen me with, and it’s certainly not like he’s interested in me himself. Our families have known each other five or six generations, and Dwight’s always treated me like he’s one of my older brothers. One of my bossy older brothers. Unfortunately, small-town social life resembles the Ark—everything two by two. So when I need an escort and don’t have one on tap, I just call Dwight, who’s divorced and still unattached. By choice, he says.

Yet ever since I met Kidd Chapin down at the coast last spring, Dwight’s done nothing but snipe at him. Dwight’s a chief of detectives; Kidd’s a game warden. Both like to hunt and fish and stomp around in the woods. Wouldn’t you think they’d mesh together tight as Velcro?

Oil and vinegar.

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