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On any given day, a group of women can be found in Harriet's tavern in a small town in Connecticut. From the front, it looks rustic, humble, and intimate. The dark-glass windows make it challenging to look inside. The group members are policewomen, FBI agents, lawyers, and retired women from all over the United States. Their age varies. The group leader, of The Blind Justice Society, is Sadie Barker, an FBI agent. The locals of the town call the older sleuths, "the old biddies." On Friday, it's margarita happy hour, by the pitcher. That's when the women try and meet.
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About the Author
I am a seventy-three year old retired high school teacher. My husband, William pasted away in 2016 after thirty years together. I have three children and two grandchildren. I live in a little town in Connecticut. Most of my stories happen there. Before becoming a teacher at fifty, I was a technical writer for the government working on Trident submarines. I have always been interested in mysteries and when I was little I wanted to be a policewoman. I watched all of the series Policewoman, with Angie Dickerson. I looked Murder She Wrote. My son Jonathan calls me murder she hopes. As I walked around my neighborhood and I see something unusual I create a story in my head. Then I play with it until I have a story formed. My characters come to me when I am swimming or driving. I swim at the military base by my home. My husband was a retired Air Force medic and my dad was retired Navy. I have lived most of my life in this town and meet once a month for lunch with my classmates of fifty-five years. I started to write when my husband was diagnosed with stage 2 pancreatic cancer. He was sick for four years. I was his sole caregiver during that time. I would create a story and then I would read it to him while he was having chemo. He would tell me what needed to be changed and what didn't work. I miss that so much. My husband lost his battle with cancer the day after our thirty year wedding anniversary. He promised me he would make it and he never broke a promise. Dying in my arms and tell me not to cry he loved me. I promised him I would continue to write and publish my book. I never broke a promise to him. This book is dedicated to him.