Did you catch Monday's blog featuring Libby Drew's murder mystery, Paying the Piper? If you're a fan of her story, don't forget to download the signature graphic to share it through the month! If you haven't read the story yet, maybe this excerpt will help change your mind! 

I chose this excerpt because it's the start of the story. It's very dramatic, for one, shocking and graphic, but you also get a very quick glimpse into the main characters, both their basic personality and a lot of individual information about each of them, but the way they interact as well. All within a few paragraphs! Libby's always excellent at that, and I couldn't pass up highlighting one of her great hooks with this excerpt. ~ Cia

Moonlight filtered down through the trees, illuminating portions of the body. Fortunately, the full dramatic effect – especially for those with weak stomachs – was lost in the deep predawn shadows. Blood coated the ground around the twisted corpse of the woman – mostly in large splatters, but some in small pools. Her strawberry hair lay in a tangle around her neck, and her too-tight sweater dress was bunched in a knot high on her sticky, stained thighs. Cale wrinkled his nose in distaste at the coppery smell.

"Why do I have to be here?" he grumbled under his breath to his most trusted friend. Lucky for Cale, since the body of the girl was cooling on his front lawn, his best friend happened to be the Chief of Police.

"That's an asinine question." Quent said. He curled his lip and turned back to the body. With a flick of his wrist, a half-dozen people sprang into action, photographing, cataloging, and gathering. Not a single one fussed at being ordered about like a puppy, Cale noticed with a snort, but then again, not a single one wanted to bear Quent's wrath. He was, indisputably, the law in Farther's Run. If it was a matter of upholding the peace, he had his large, hooked nose in it. It didn’t matter if your husband was beating you, or your neighbor’s kid stole your lawn ornaments, or even if your cat was stuck up in a tree. Quent had the responsibility to fix it, and as a result, the final word on how it was handled. This situation, albeit messier than a stranded pet, was no different. He'd wanted Cale at the scene, so Cale was there.

"This woman has been brutally murdered on your property, Cale. Surely you see how that would affect you," Quent drawled as he stared at the body.

Cale pursed his lips and remained silent. It could affect him in any number of ways, actually. Admittedly, none of them pleasant. "Yes, I see that."

"Do you know her?"

Cale turned angry eyes on Quent. "Now, that’s a stupid question."

Quent remained impassive. He merely stared at Cale with his fathomless brown eyes. Cale huffed and lowered his gaze. Things were normally much more relaxed between them. But this was Quent; he had a job to do, and his friendship with Cale wouldn't interfere.

"Yes, of course I know her. And so do you, unless you’re flirting with senility. It’s Cynthia Mullen. We went to school together. She’s a hooker."

Quent curled his lip. "How eloquent. I take it from your tone you didn’t much care for Ms. Mullen."

Cale shifted his feet uncomfortably. "I…I did. We…used to be friends. In school. It’s been a long time since school," he finished weakly.

"Not so long," Quent replied. "It only seems that way to you."

Cale nodded, but didn’t reply.

"So, officially, you have no idea of how she came to be here. On your property. Your lawn. In direct sight of your bedroom window."

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