In a variation of the classic locked-room mystery, Attorney John Lloyd Branson and his beautiful, trusted, but often impetuous legal assistant, Lydia Fairchild, scare up ghosts from the past and rattle family skeletons as they try to discover who murdered the young museum curator. It’s no Halloween trick when Brad Hemphill materializes in a locked museum at midnight, the main feature in a prehistoric display. Who among the museum staff would kill the harmless, mild-mannered young curator, and why? What deadly secret did Hemphill know that made him a target for murder?
This was a mildly entertaining little book, and I certainly wanted to finish it, in spite of an irritated dislike of the heroine. A depressingly familiar type in modern fiction, an Amazon-sized, gorgeous, militantly-fierce feminist who is only too willing to kick a man in the groin for hinting that she is a "foxy lady", but who instantly develops a personality-debilitating amnesia after successfully defending herself from a knife-slashing serial killer. Why, you wonder? Well, as far as I could tell, it was because she just could not bring herself to remember that she had felt actual gladness that the bad guy was dead just after she killed him. ??? Nor did I enjoy her incessant, gag-worthy quips (and apparently neither did the narrator, as he did his worst part with her dialogue). Fortunately, her role was relatively small in the fairly good-sized cast of characters, and the rest of them were far more interesting. A quick, non-engrossing story to listen to while doing something else with your hands.
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