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Death Notice

Death Notice

4.5 9
by Todd Ritter

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Perry Hollow, Pennsylvania, has never had a murder. At least not as long as Kat Campbell has been police chief. And the first is brutal. George Winnick, a farmer in his sixties, is found in a homemade coffin on the side of the highway with his lips sewn shut and his veins and arteries drained of blood and filled with embalming fluid. Chilling as


Perry Hollow, Pennsylvania, has never had a murder. At least not as long as Kat Campbell has been police chief. And the first is brutal. George Winnick, a farmer in his sixties, is found in a homemade coffin on the side of the highway with his lips sewn shut and his veins and arteries drained of blood and filled with embalming fluid. Chilling as that is, it becomes even more so when Kat finds that the Perry Hollow Gazette obituary writer, Henry Goll, received a death notice for Winnick before he was killed.

Soon after, the task force from the Pennsylvania Bureau of Investigation shows up and everything takes an irreversible turn for the worse. Nick Donnelly, head of the task force, has been chasing the “Betsy Ross Killer,” so named because he’s handy with a needle and thread, for more than a year. Winnick seems to be his fourth victim. Or is he?

Kat has never handled a murder case before, but she’s not about to sit by while someone terrorizes her sleepy little town or her own son. But will her efforts be enough to stop a killer and bring calm to Perry Hollow?

A portrait of a small town in turmoil, where residents fear for their lives, Todd Ritter’s Death Notice is a gripping debut from a terrific new talent in crime fiction.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
Unusually interesting people encounter unusually ghastly murders in New Jersey journalist Ritter’s engaging debut. Single-mom police chief Kat Campbell of peaceful Perry Hollow, Pa., is shocked to find a local farmer’s corpse left by the side of the road in a homemade coffin, his lips sewn together and his veins pumped full of formaldehyde. Meanwhile, Henry Goll, reclusive obituary writer for the Perry Hollow Gazette, is startled to realize that the man’s death notice was faxed to him before the murder. Evidently, one of the townsfolk is a clever homicidal maniac who enjoys playing mind games. The murderer keeps nimbly ahead of his pursuers, even after Nick Donnelly, a state cop obsessed with serial killers, arrives on the scene. The action verges on pulp fiction melodrama, until a fiery conclusion that fully lives up--or down--to that standard. Even then, however, Ritter treats his main characters--sympathetic, believably vulnerable people--with respect. (Oct.)
From the Publisher
Advance Praise for Death Notice

“With Death Notice, talented newcomer Todd Ritter takes readers on a roller-coaster ride of thrills and chills. Set in the small Pennsylvania town of Perry Hollow, the book captures the essence of small-town life. The characters, particularly Chief of Police Kat Campbell, are memorable and shine in their roles. The crimes are brutal with vivid details readers of crime fiction will happily devour—and beg for more. Ritter has conceived a mystery that will remain in your memory long after you finish the book. Just don’t read it when you’re alone.”

—Linda Castillo, New York Times bestselling author of Pray for Silence.

Death Notice is a tense and twisty whodunit from a fresh new voice in fiction. With well-drawn characters and spare, unflinching prose, Todd Ritter offers an atmospheric and emotionally rich debut. Mystery fans will love their visit to Ritter’s Perry Hollow.”

—Lisa Unger, New York Times bestselling author of Fragile

Library Journal
The small Pennsylvania town of Perry Hallow is rocked when farmer George Winnick, partially embalmed with his mouth sewn together, is found in a coffin on a rural road. Worse, the local obituary writer got advance notice of George's death. Police Chief Kat Campbell, out of her league, invites the state police team to help her investigation. VERDICT Combining a complex plot, sick violence, and sex, this debut mystery by a journalist is not for the squeamish. [Minotaur First Edition selection; library marketing.]
Kirkus Reviews

A small-town sheriff has her hands full with a vicious serial killer.

Perry Hollow, Pa., has never had a murder of its own until a corpse is discovered in a coffin on the side of the road. George Winnick was a farmer with no enemies. Nor did he need any. When a state police team arrive, they announce that he is just one more victim of the Betsy Ross Killer. The team is led by Nick Donnelly, a man driven to hunt down murderers by the unsolved death of his sister. Once the autopsy is completed, significant differences from the past killings come to light, from the sewing together of the victim's lips to the surgical precision of the cut to his neck where the artery was used to remove all his blood and replace it with embalming fluid. In addition, Henry Goll, the enigmatic writer of obits for the local paper, was faxed a death notice before the actual time of Winnick's decease. When a second, similar murder follows, Donnelly's team is responsible for the case. But Sheriff Kat Campbell, realizing that the killer is a Perry Hollow local, can't help but be involved. When Henry rushes to her with a third pre-mortem fax, they manage to rescue the intended victim but still don't have enough clues to uncover a ruthless killer before he strikes again.

Journalist Ritter has enough experience with both crime and obituaries to pen a convincingly blood-soaked debut novel.

Product Details

HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date:

Read an Excerpt



“Chief Campbell!”

Kat’s name rattled up Main Street as soon as she set foot on the sidewalk. She had just stepped out of Big Joe’s, a Star-bucks wannabe, carrying an extra-large coffee, for which she had paid Starbucks’ prices. Normally, the concept of four-dollar java would have annoyed her. But it was a gray and frigid morning, and she needed the heat and clarity that coffee provided. Unfortunately, the sound of her name, now being shouted a second time, prevented her from taking that first, precious sip.

“Hey, Chief!”

The source of the yell was Jasper Fox, owner of a flower shop burdened with the name Awesome Blossoms. Despite the cold, perspiration glistened on his face as he barreled up the sidewalk. Huffing and puffing, he waited until he reached Kat to finish his sentence.

“I’ve been robbed.”

Kat, coffee cup suspended in front of her mouth, blinked with disbelief. In Perry Hollow, robberies happened about as often as solar eclipses. Its pine-dotted streets and exhaustingly quaint storefronts were mostly trouble-free.

“Robbed? Are you sure?”

Jasper had an absurd mustache that dripped from his face like two dirty icicles. Whenever Kat saw him, she thought of a walrus. That morning, the mustache drooped even lower than normal.

“I think I’d know,” Jasper said.

His hangdog expression told her he had been expecting a different response. Something action-packed and decisive. Maybe Kat could have lived up to his expectations had she been given a chance to take a sip of her coffee. Instead, she could only lower the cup and watch Jasper as he watched her.

She knew what he was thinking. She read it in his eyes. He saw a woman five feet tall, ten pounds overweight, and six years shy of middle age. A woman who darkened her blond hair in order to be taken seriously. A woman who had bags under her eyes because the furnace was on the fritz and her son was up half the night with a cough. Most of all, he saw a woman—with a badge pinned to her uniform—idling on the sidewalk when she should have been investigating the town’s first theft in more than a year.

Knowing all of this was going through Jasper’s brain, Kat asked, “What was stolen?”

“I’ll show you.”

She followed him down Main Street, which was waking up faster than she was. She spotted Lisa Gunzelman unlocking her antiques store and Adrienne Wellington adjusting a floral-print frock in the window of her dress shop. Similar activity took place on the other side of the street as store owners got ready for another day of commerce in Perry Hollow, Pennsylvania.

Their efforts were in vain. The town had seen few visitors since the Christmas rush, simply because January and February were too cold for shopping. Now it was the middle of March, and although store windows showed off shorts, sunglasses, and tank tops, the scene outside was anything but springlike. Just two days earlier, a nor’easter had dumped six inches of snow on the roads. That was followed by an arctic chill that froze the plowed snow into miniature icebergs against the sidewalks. Kat stepped around one as she followed Jasper into his own store, two doors down from the dress shop.

Once inside Awesome Blossoms, Jasper made a beeline to the rear of the store and pushed open a door that led back outside. Kat followed him through it, finding herself in the center of a vacant parking lot covered with a thin sheet of ice. Only then did she begin to understand the situation. Jasper’s delivery van—a ubiquitous white Ford with the store’s name painted across its sides—had been taken during the night. The realization gave her an inappropriate kick. At last, something to investigate.

“Are you positive this is where you parked it last night?”

“Of course.”

“I know you think I’m asking the obvious,” Kat said. “But these are the things I need to know if you want me to find your van.”

Jasper pointed to an empty patch of gravel. “I parked it right there.”

“Are you the only person with a set of keys?”

“I keep a spare set in the glove compartment in case someone else needs to make a delivery.”

“Let me guess. You leave the van’s door unlocked, too.”

Jasper didn’t need to speak. His mustache did the talking for him. And when it sagged sadly, Kat knew the answer was yes.

As stupid as his actions sounded, Kat couldn’t hold it against him. Perry Hollow was the kind of town where you could leave your car unlocked with the keys in the ignition and know it would be safe. Until now, apparently.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll find the van. Everyone in town knows what it looks like. Some kids probably took it for a joyride and left it behind the Shop and Save.”

Kat assumed this theory would relieve Jasper in some small way. Instead, the florist’s face scrunched with worry.

“There was something else in that glove compartment, Chief.”


Jasper hesitated, just for a moment. “A pistol.”

Kat groaned. It wasn’t the best thing to do in front of Jasper, but it was better than her first instinct, which was to throttle him. How could he be so stupid as to leave his van unlocked with a gun in the glove compartment? And why did he have a gun in there to begin with?

“I had it for safety reasons,” Jasper said, sensing the unspoken question that hung like a clothesline between them. “I had a permit for it and everything. I just kept it there in case I got carjacked.”

Unless he made regular deliveries to West Philadelphia, Jasper had no reason to worry about a carjacking.

“Was it loaded?” Kat said.

A sad nod from the florist told her this was a bigger problem than she had first suspected. She needed to find that van. Pronto. And when she did, hopefully the gun would still be there.

Quickly, she made her way back through the store and onto Main Street. When she reached her black-and-white Crown Vic—still parked in front of Big Joe’s, thank God—Kat heard Deputy Carl Bauersox trying to reach her on the radio.

“Chief?” his voice squawked as Kat slid behind the wheel. “You there?”

Carl, her sole deputy, worked the night shift. Kat was usually in the station by that hour to relieve him of duty. But she had been sidetracked by Jasper’s van troubles, and now Carl was probably wondering when he could go home.

Kat grabbed the radio. “I’m on my way, Carl.”

“We have a big problem, Chief.”

Kat doubted that. Two crimes taking place on the same day would be some sort of record for Perry Hollow. It was probably more like a cat in a tree, which in Carl’s world did amount to a big deal.

“What kind of problem?”

“A truck driver called. Said there’s a wooden box sitting on the side of Old Mill Road.”

As Carl spoke, Kat realized she was still carrying her neglected Big Joe’s house blend. She raised the cup to her lips and, just before getting to that long-delayed first sip, said, “Why didn’t you go out there and move it?”

“Because it’s more than a box.”

Kat stopped herself mid-sip. Again. “More than a box how?”

“Well, Chief, the trucker swears up and down that it’s a coffin.”

A coffin. On the side of the road. The idea was so preposterous Kat knew it couldn’t be true. The truck driver was mistaken. It was simply a box. And now her job was to move it before some distracted driver smashed into it, possibly necessitating the use of a real coffin.

“I’ll check it out,” she said. “In the meantime, do me a favor and put out a countywide APB on Jasper Fox’s delivery van. It was stolen last night.”

She didn’t mention the gun. It would have been a good idea with anyone but Carl, who flapped his gums faster than a hummingbird worked its wings. If he knew about the gun, the news would be all over Perry Hollow within an hour.

Carl signed off with a chipper “Righto, Chief,” leaving Kat to reluctantly lower her coffee, start the Crown Vic, and head out to whatever awaited her on Old Mill Road.

When Kat found the box, it was indeed sitting on the side of the road, resting on a patch of frozen snow. Although the truck driver who spotted it called it a coffin, Kat, in true police chief fashion, refused to speculate on the matter. Squinting against the sun’s reflection on the snow, she peered through the windshield at the box sitting a few yards away. Rectangular in shape, it looked to be made of untreated wood. Probably pine, if Kat cared to guess. Which she didn’t.

She climbed out of the car, her breath forming a brief ghost of vapor that floated away in the frigid breeze. It was too damn cold for March, which Kat thought was bad news in several ways. For one, the prolonged winter depressed her. Second, the cold had kept the tourists away for too long. And most folks in Perry Hollow depended on them for their livelihoods.

Finally, the cold seemed to Kat a shivery warning of impending danger. It was too sharp, too unnatural.

When she finally got around to taking that first sip of coffee, it was in a vain attempt to steel herself against the chill. But the java itself had already succumbed to the cold, not helping her one bit. Kat instead had to rely on her parka, which she zipped up to her chin.

When she reached the box, Kat understood why someone passing by could think it was a coffin. It certainly looked casketlike. More than six feet long, three feet wide, and about two feet deep, it was definitely big enough to hold a body.

Kneeling next to it, she inspected the box for signs of where it had come from and, hopefully, where it was supposed to go. She looked for an invoice stapled to the side or a company’s logo branded into the wood. She found neither. As she ran a hand across the box’s top and along its sides, the rough wood scraped her palm. Whatever its intended use, the box was definitely homemade, most likely by an amateur. Any craftsman worth his salt would have subjected the wood to at least some form of sanding.

Leaning in close, Kat sniffed deeply, detecting a faint trace of pitch. Pine. Just as she had suspected.

She wanted to believe the box had simply landed there after falling off a truck, but instinct told her otherwise. It was in perfect condition. No scratches or scuff marks. No signs of impact with the road. The way it sat—on its back, stretched tidily across the ditch—also raised suspicion. No box tumbling from a truck could have landed so perfectly without some assistance.

Its location was no accident. Someone had placed it there. Someone had wanted it to be found.

Finished with her examination, Kat saw no point in delaying the inevitable. Coffin or not, the box needed to be opened. Tugging on the lid, she noticed it was nailed shut at the corners and at two points along each side. She marched back to her patrol car and grabbed a crowbar from the trunk before returning to the box. With the crowbar’s help, the nails barely resisted when she pried the lid open and yanked it away.

The first thing she saw was a pair of wheat-colored work boots. Next was a pair of mud-streaked overalls that continued over a red flannel shirt. Finally, framed by the shirt’s collar, was the face of a man in his late sixties.

The full picture sent Kat scrambling backward. Standing halfway between the box and her car, she turned away and clamped one hand over her mouth to calm her gasping. She pressed the other hand against her right side, where a sudden fear jabbed at her ribs.

When a minute passed, Kat willed herself to look at the coffin again. The second glance was accompanied by the sad, stomach-sinking realization that she knew who the corpse was.

His name was George Winnick, and until this morning he had been a farmer who tended fifty acres on the outskirts of Perry Hollow. Kat didn’t know him well. Other than exchanging greetings at the Shop and Save or in passing on the street, they had barely spoken. But he was enough of a fixture in town for her to know he had been a decent man—hardworking and dependable. She also knew there was no reason he should be lying dead in a pine box on Old Mill Road.

“George,” she whispered as she unsteadily approached the body again. “What happened to you?”

His corpse had been crammed inside the coffin like a doll stuffed into a shoe box. His arms were folded across his chest, each open hand resting against the opposite shoulder. The ashen shade of his hair matched the pale flesh on his hands, neck, and face.

Two polished pennies sat atop each of his eyes, hugged by bushy, gray-studded eyebrows. Both coins had been placed heads up, Abe Lincoln’s profile glinting in Kat’s direction. The effect was eerie, the pennies looking like eyes themselves—dead and unblinking.

A wound marred the right side of his neck, partially hidden by his shirt collar. Pushing the fabric out of the way, Kat examined the gash. About three inches long, it had been stitched shut with black thread. Beads of blood had frozen to the thread, like raindrops in a spiderweb.

Similar ice crystals could be seen on George’s lips, which were coated with rust-colored flecks of dirt. That’s when Kat realized it wasn’t dirt she saw. It was dried blood. Lots of it, crusted around more black thread that crisscrossed his lips.

George Winnick’s mouth had been sewn shut.

Kat gasped again as the pain in her ribs deepened. It was an overwhelming sensation—part nausea, part horror. Still, she managed to make it back to her patrol car and radio Carl.

“I need you to listen closely,” she said. “Call the EMS squad. Tell them to get here immediately.”

“There’s someone inside the box?”

“Yes. George Winnick.”

Carl reacted the way Kat had expected him to—he prayed. She waited as he murmured a quick prayer for George’s soul. After the amen, he asked, “How did he die?”

Meet the Author

Todd Ritter has been a journalist for fifteen years and is currently at the New Jersey Star-Ledger. He has interviewed celebrities, covered police standoffs, and even written obituaries. He lives in suburban New Jersey. This is his debut novel.

Visit his Web site at www.toddritteronline.com.

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Death Notice 4.6 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 8 reviews.
JerseyBoy More than 1 year ago
Wonderful new series. Highly recommend.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Helen_Ginger More than 1 year ago
If the way people are being killed doesn't make you turn on the lights, then you're a lot less squeamish than I am. I couldn't have written this 'cause I would have scared myself silly. Death Notice starts off with the killing of George Winnick, then ratchets up the intensity by giving you just enough time between victims to catch your breath. You get to know the people in the town and come to like Sheriff Kat Campbell's commitment to stopping the murderer. Your heart will race when the killer decides to make the chase personal for her. You'll also be trying to figure out who in this small town could be the killer. Todd Ritter has been a journalist for fifteen years. He's even written obituaries. This experience and expertise comes through in the book. The title, Death Notice, comes from the obituaries, which arrive at the newspaper before the victim is dead. If you're like me, you won't forget Death Notice, no matter how you try. Todd Ritter puts you right into the victim's head. Even if you've never met the victim before, you really want the good guys to get there and stop it. But you won't stop reading because you want to know who the killer is. It makes your heart race and if it had been a movie, I would have covered my eyes through the scary parts.
MofK2 More than 1 year ago
This is a quick paced page turner! Once I picked it up, I didn't want to put it down! Every time I thought I had it figured out, new twist would appear! I highly recommend this book to anyone who loves a good mystery!! This is by far the best book I have read all year!!
Lynie More than 1 year ago
Kat Campbell is Chief of Police in a sleepy small town in Pennsylvania. Life is good with a very low crime rate until a local farmer turns up dead, amateurishly embalmed and encased in a handmade coffin. Henry Goll, the local obit writer for the Perry Hollow Gazette, received a faxed death notice time-stamped before the farmer died. Kat is joined in her investigation by Nick Donnelly, head of the State Police Task Force. Despite the similarities between the farmer's murder and those committed by the Betsy Ross serial killer Donnelly has been chasing for the past year, the team is forced to look closer to home when another embalmed body is found. Campbell and Donnelly are joined by Henry Goll in trying to find the killer before he or she kills again. Ritter's characters are nicely enhanced by their own backstories which add to the complexity of DEATH NOTICE. Smooth writing, clever phrasing and an interesting plot make this a great first novel! I hope to see more from this author.
bridget3420 More than 1 year ago
Todd is a mystery writing genius! I became so engrossed in this book that I don't think I was aware of anything else while reading. The in depth plot and memorable characters make Death Notice a must-have mystery.
harstan More than 1 year ago
Perry Hollow, Pennsylvania Police Chief Kat Campbell is stunned to find the corpse of George Winnick, a farmer, inside a coffin of sorts at the side of the road. She is further aghast to see the victim's lips sewn together and his blood vessels containing formaldehyde. Meanwhile, Perry Hollow Gazette obituary writer Henry Goll learns the time of death occurred after he received the faxed death notice. Henry realizes that one of his neighbors is a diabolical homicidal psychopath. When other murders occur, Pennsylvania State Police Officer Nick Donnelly, an expert on serial killers, arrives to assist the overwhelmed locals. However, even with his knowledge and skills, the killer seems always ahead of the cops. Although at times a bit overdramatic with a stratospheric kill rate, Death Notice is an enjoyable police procedural. The story line is fast-paced and loaded with a horde of eccentric characters as the corpses keep coming. Kat is a fabulous lead who holds the serial killer thriller together with help from Nick and Henry. Readers will enjoy this entertaining regional mystery as a town that never faced a homicide suddenly is inundated. Harriet Klausner