By Sue Henry
Up north, the summers are short -- and wintry weather, like dying, is chilly and lengthy . . .
getting better from knee surgical procedure that would reason her to overlook the approaching dogsled racing season, champion ''musher'' Jessie Arnold feels empty and bored -- so she grabs a chance to fill her days manning the Iditarod sales space on the Alaska country reasonable. yet homicide turns into an charm right here to boot -- an extremely brutal one -- whilst the corpse of a small-time hoodlum slain through a double-blade awl blow to the cranium turns up at the fairgrounds. Jessie will not become involved, having already noticeable an excessive amount of violent dying in her lifetime. yet unusual connections are linking the killing with a kid's kidnapping . . . and with the surprising disappearance of her personal cherished lead sled puppy. quickly associates previous and new could be pulled in in addition whilst the unthinkable happens: Jessie herself vanishes and not using a hint.
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Up north, the summers are short -- and iciness, like demise, is chilly and lengthy . . . recuperating from knee surgical procedure that may reason her to overlook the approaching dogsled racing season, champion ''musher'' Jessie Arnold feels empty and bored -- so she grabs a chance to fill her days manning the Iditarod sales space on the Alaska nation reasonable.
A chilling tale of lethal hope and chilly homicide from long island occasions bestselling writer J. A. JanceA beautiful, renowned youngster by no means again from her mystery tryst in Skeleton Canyon. possibly it used to be younger rage or savage ardour that ripped the lifestyles from a baby of privilege and deserted her damaged physique to the chilly Arizona evening.
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Extra info for Death Trap: An Alaska Mystery
Carefully he assessed the red building one last time, wishing he had X-ray vision and could D E AT H T RAP / 41 see through walls. He would have liked to know exactly what kind of a safe was used to secure the huge amount of money the fair must generate each day, but it was a detail best left to the boss of this operation. “But how’re we gonna—” Grabbing the shorter man’s elbow in a grip that pinched hard enough to make him yip in protest, the man who seemed to be in charge pulled him across the plaza toward a walkway that ran past the red building in question.
The answer was a roar of applause and practice howls, as Hobo Jim launched into the song, accompanied by clapping and foot stomping. At the appropriate time, everyone, including Jessie and Hank, howled along with him, and in the confined space of The Sluice Box, the sound was all but deafening. Even Tank joined in, making Jessie laugh and adding a note of realism to the mix. ” Hobo Jim asked when the noise died down enough for him to be heard. ” he asked, peering under a hand lifted to shade his eyes from the glare of the overhead spotlight.
I guess they pick up—” “Good boy. You guess right,” his pal interrupted, clapping him on the back with one hand. “Somewhere, locked up in the other end of that building,” he muttered softly, “all night long, the whole day’s receipts are…” He allowed his words to drift into silence, and a sly, self-satisfied grin twisted the corners of his mouth upward. Carefully he assessed the red building one last time, wishing he had X-ray vision and could D E AT H T RAP / 41 see through walls. He would have liked to know exactly what kind of a safe was used to secure the huge amount of money the fair must generate each day, but it was a detail best left to the boss of this operation.