A Good Man by PJ McIlvaine
He wants to remember. He’ll wish he could forget . . .
Decades after a brutal childhood trauma, a famous novelist finds his life shattered once again, in this unsettling psychological mystery thriller.
Brooks Anderson should now be enjoying life, but the persistent nightmares and sleepwalking still haunt him.
As hard as he’s tried, he can’t run away from the defining event of his life: the senseless murders of his mother and brother during a vacation in Montauk, which left the eight-year-old Brooks the sole survivor of the carnage and in a catatonic state. He buried his pain and eventually overcame his demons.
But now an unscrupulous journalist is threatening to twist the truth by digging up the past. To prove his innocence and exorcise his demons, Brooks must dig into his own psyche and the events of that fateful summer. His pursuit of the truth soon leads Brooks down a slippery slope that challenges everything—and will bring him face-to-face with the real monster of Montauk . . .
About the author
Bio – PJ McIlvaine is a prolific best-selling Amazon author, screenwriter, and journalist. Also, her Showtime film with Mimi Rogers, Karen Allen, and Eric Stoltz was nominated for an Emmy. She’s been published in Crime Reads, Writer’s Digest, The New York Times, and numerous outlets. She lives in Eastern Long Island with her family and pampered fur baby.
Social Media Links –
Website: https://pjmacwriter.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pj.mcilvaine
Twitter: https://twitter.com/PJMcIlvaine
Instagram: @pjmcilvaine
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19256202.P_J_McIlvaine
As part of the blogtour I am pleased to be able to share an extract with you.
Reformed bad boy/famous author Brooks is on a desperate quest to find out what really happened the night his mother and older brother were brutally killed in his maternal grandfather’s summer cottage in Montauk. Brooks has managed to track down the now much older Olivia Grantham, a potential witness/observer that fateful August, for an interview. But Brooks isn’t prepared for what the woman has to say because if it’s true, it questions the entire theory--accepted as fact--of who the killer was and the motive for the heinous crimes.
“Did my mother talk about her pregnancy? How did she feel about it?”
She scrunches her face like a dishrag. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Well, was she happy? Upset? Ambivalent?” I can’t bring myself to ask her if Mom wanted an abortion.
“She was happy. Very much so. She wanted a baby girl in the worst way. She even had a name picked out: Amelia.”
I lean back in my chair and suck wind. “So in your opinion, she wasn’t scared or worried?”
“About the baby? I knew she’d lost one. She didn’t go into too much detail about it. But I can tell you she wanted this baby. A bit apprehensive, yes, but so was I. I had two miscarriages before Tiffany. But it’s not like we obsessed about it. I had Jacquie to look after, and she had you boys and her work. Alex came out nearly every weekend. It was good. At least, that was my impression.” She slathers whipped butter on her bread. “From what your mother said, I got the sense that your father wasn’t pleased about having another child. Shirley didn’t say it outright, she was too polite for that, but sometimes when I was over, he’d call her, and they’d argue.”
My heart leaps into my throat like a car with no brakes. “Did my mother say she was unhappy in the marriage?”
Olivia takes a sip of her tea. “Well—not in so many words. That would be speculation on my part, and I was told I had to be careful.”
“Who told you to be careful?”
“My kids. Well, really Jacquie. She lives in New Mexico now, but when I told her that your Miss Drake had contacted me, she thought it was a bad idea. It was so many years ago, why poke a hornet’s nest?”
I nod and hope she continues to disregard her daughter.
“In those days, I was a real doormat: never question your husband, obey implicitly, put food on the table, keep quiet, know your place. It’s different now and I’m glad. I didn’t like what happened. I mean, afterward. It was ludicrous. But Alex insisted I had to stay out of it, that it wasn’t our business. I didn’t understand why he said that at the time, so I went along. The dutiful wife.” She clucks her head. “But then, when that other writer called—”
“Marshall Reagan?”
She slowly nods.
“What wasn’t your business, Mrs. Grantham?”
“All that drivel about Julian Broadhurst. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
This is an unexpected bonus. “You knew Julian Broadhurst?”
“Everyone knew Julian, if you get my drift. After he finished a job, he’d come over and tell your mother and me all about it. We’d all have a good laugh over a couple of glasses of wine.”
“You mean a paint job? He was an artist, right?”
She snorts. “If that’s what you called it. Julian was as much an artist as I was an opera singer. He had a talent, all right, but it didn’t have anything to do with painting.”
I took a deep breath and wade in. “I guess you don’t believe that my mother and Julian were having an affair.”
“Of course not. It’s absurd. I said it then and I say it now.” She is emphatic. And genuine.
“Even though there were love letters.”
Olivia makes a corkscrew face. “I don’t know anything about any love letters. Shirley was a good woman and a great mother. She loved you and your brother very much. She didn’t entertain any men, including Julian. I know that much.”
“But how can you be sure?” I persist.
Olivia shoots me a confused look. “You really don’t know, do you? You see, that’s exactly what I mean. You repeat a lie long enough and it becomes the truth. Julian Broadhurst wasn’t interested in women—any woman—unless he was paid. Do I have to draw you a picture?”
Julian was gay? Nothing much shocks me anymore, but this does. “And you know this because—”
“Because Alex, my husband—he was gay, too.”
