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The Ripper's Hellbroth


                                                       


Here are two recent book reviews of The Ripper's Hellbroth. The first is for the re-edited version under Sunbury Press.


Available on Amazon





Western New York is under-siege from a serial killer who seems to be following in the footsteps of the most famous fiend of them all - Jack the Ripper.
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The Niagara Falls Serial Killer Task Force calls in none other than the Watchmaker, a detective sleuth par excellence.
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The Watchmaker, FBI’s chief scientist Dr. Edward Dunham knew at once there was something strange about this killer. When he discovers the fiend's immortal agenda, giving the case its first break in what seemed to be an unsolvable situation, he blows the case wide open with a prediction of where the killer will strike next.
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They begin their deadly cat and mouse game, then one of the killer’s intended victims, a college sophomore, and her younger brother bestow a gift on the Watchmaker, although, when he locks horns with the killer, Dunham's not prepared for the outcome.
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All is not lost. The Watchmaker knows his secret, a secret that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

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Excerpts from The Ripper's Hellbroth -
 
Set in present day. As you can see, The Watchmaker has made a name for himself:

(p. 98)
     ...The camper door opened up and an agitated-looking man glanced straight at Stanton. “Mr. Stanton, four police cars just pulled into the cemetery!” His excited voice echoed through the cramped interior.

     Stanton frowned, scrambled to his feet, and hurried from the camper. “What? All of our paperwork is in order. We have permission from the Diocese. I just spoke with the Bishop.” 

     Dunham and Riggs followed Stanton down the step. As they climbed from the camper, Dunham noticed six police officers and a woman dressed in regular clothes striding straight for them. Two of the police officers were New York State troopers, while the others appeared to be Rochester City police. In the lead was a trooper, tall with an athletic build.

     “I’m sorry, have we done something wrong?” Stanton asked.

     The trooper stopped eyed all three of them.  “Not that I’m aware of.” He jested. “My name is Lieutenant James Hallway. We’re actually looking for Dr. Dunham.”

     Dunham raised his hand. “I’m Dr. Dunham.”

     Hallway approached Dunham and shook his hand. “Hello Dr. Dunham; I apologize for interrupting the three of you, but we have an urgent situation with the life of Mayor Armstrong’s son on the line, and we could certainly use your help. May we take a short moment of your time?” He asked. 

     “Absolutely, but how did you know I was here? Dunham asked.

     Riggs grinned, and knew full well The Watchmaker joining the task force was common knowledge.

     “Everyone knew you were in Buffalo helping out with the Niagara Falls serial killer case, and it was Dr. Henderson here”, Hallway pointed to the lady next to him, “who had the idea to conference with you. We called Captain Johnson in Buffalo and he told us you were at this cemetery, so we decided a meeting with you face to face was in order. This is Dr. Anne Henderson. She’s our local criminal profiler, and has helped us solve dozens of cases.”

     Henderson approached Dunham and shook his hand. “Hello, Dr. Dunham. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

     “You as well, Dr. Anderson.” Dunham said. “I am familiar with some of your case work.”

     Henderson’s beamed, then immediately stiffened her lips once she realized she’d lost her professional composure. “Thank you.” She said reining in her embarrassment.

     “So, how may I be of service?” Dunham asked.

     Henderson handed Dunham a folder. “Well Dr. Dunham, three days ago the mayor’s twelve year-old son, Robert Armstrong, was seen leaving school at 3:10pm on his way home, taking his usual route, but this time he never made it home. He was kidnapped and our best guess is that he was taken in the most secluded section of that route. Unfortunately, no one saw anyone suspicious in the area.”

     Dunham sat down at a nearby picnic table and flipped open the file.

     “A ransom note was found in the mayor’s mailbox, and still no one saw a thing.” Henderson explained.

     Dunham picked up a piece of paper and stared at it. “Is this the ransom note?”

     “Yes,” Henderson answered, “and the kidnapper is demanding a drop off in six hours. The instructions are confusing and we’re not entirely sure which location he means. We’ve boiled it down to three places...”



Here is a taste of the concurrent 1888 story set in London, England, as Jack the Ripper was murdering harlots:

(p. 13)
     Inspector First Class Walter Andrews peered out the window of his horse-drawn police cab at a darker than usual evening, and noticed the flickering dull yellow light emitted from the gas light street lamps gave the passing streets and sidewalks an eerie glow. He thrust his head out the window and watched as the Metropolitan Police Headquarters, unofficially known as Scotland Yard, fade from sight. It was located in London’s affluent West End. He was on his way to the poor East End district of Whitechapel. He saw an evening fog beginning to make its presence known in the form of a light mist creeping into the light of street lamps. Above, the sky had a faint red glow owing to distant building fires still burning through the night. A constant clip-clop of the horse’s shoes striking the cobblestone street had a calming, mesmerizing effect on him, heightened by the rhythmic rocking motion of the carriage. His stout, five foot ten inch height, and wide shoulders rode at ease in the small space. His physique made him an imposing figure, yet he knew he was beginning to show his age with his receding salt-n-pepper hair. He purposely kept his graying beard relatively short to give a youthful appearance. A passing carriage with the horses at a gallop caught his attention, and as he watched, he caught a whiff of the air and could actually smell the scent of the misty fog....

(p. 49)
     Abrupt, loud laughter caught his attention in the corner of the room. It was a group of young detectives and constables surrounding none other than Inspector Moore. He grinned at Moore, who had his clay tobacco pipe dangling from the side of his mouth billowing with smoke. His audience was mesmerized with story after story, which was typical of the inspector. ‘The perfect medicine for a division of exhausted police officers working excessive overtime with no end in sight.’ He thought to himself.

      “Inspector Andrews!” Moore yelled. “Remember I told you about Uncle Thomas and his run in with Buffalo Bill at the Carlton Club?”  

      Andrews flashed him a courteous grin, nodded, and his smile widened as he watched Moore continue with his story. The distinctive smells of years of burning candles and pipe smoking embedded in the wood of the old building assaulted his nose. The low wooden ceilings and walls were in dire need of painting, rickety old floor boards, and well-worn chairs and desks were thrown about the room. It reminded him of those tough days at a divisional police station early in his career, and in a strange way, he missed it. 

      An older, rough-looking, detective sergeant entered the room, stop, and glanced at Inspector Moore. He grinned, and said loudly, “Sir, are you telling lies again!”

      Moore beamed back. “Sergeant Godly, you of all people should know that I am duty-bound to educate my junior colleagues about the ways of class and decorum.” He paused. “There’s room here for the codgers, as well.” He said smirkingly.

      Godly raised both hands, surrendering, then shook his head. “Ah, codswallop!” He shouted, and marched through the room to the duty desk....





Click here to get the latest on the Watchmaker and his adventures.


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THE RIPPER’S HELLBROTH
is a mystery/thriller fiction novel with elements of historical, crime, young adult, and paranormal fiction. Available electronically on Amazon.



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