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Sam and the Junkman, A New Jersey Murder Mystery is jam-packed with Italians, Hungarians, Food, and MURDER. After escaping from a toxic relationship and rural backwoods boredom, sci-fi artist Sam Dvorshak runs back home to New Jersey and family. She immediately hooks up with her long time pal Tony DeFranco, a cool and handsome Italian dude who buys and sells junk. Their first time out together Tony takes her to his favorite dumpsite where they stumble upon a gruesome murder and plunge into an investigation that leads them to obnoxious suspects, hobos, big dogs, and Aunt Vilma. Getting no respect, they diligently forge ahead battling death threats, shadowy giants, and age discrimination to finally uncover the identity of the fiend who committed the heinous and grisly homicide.
SAM AND THE JUNKMAN
A New Jersey Murder Mystery Volume 1
BY MARILYN SALZANO
“What in the world is this?” griped Roland, my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend as he lifted up the dripping square of meat with his fork. “It looks like a soggy slab of sawdust.” He plopped it down onto his plate and began shredding it with his fork. “There’s no veggies in it.” He carefully set down his fork and knife and stared at me with dark humorless eyes.
“There’s no veggies because it’s a meat—loaf,” I said, through a mouthful of delicious diner food.
“I thought you ordered soy loaf. I wanted a vegetarian meal. You know how I am about my food. It has to be high quality and carefully prepared.”
“It is carefully prepared. Look how nice they arranged the food on your dish. There’s five baby carrots, a pile of peas, and a beautiful mound of mashed potatoes and gravy.”
“Whatever.” He sighed, picked at his carrots and went back to examining the New Jersey road map. Yawn, one of his many passions.
I’m Samantha Dvorshak, newly reinstated back home in New Jersey with Mom and Pop after a grueling year of Roland and backwoods cow granola country. Right now, we’re sitting in a booth at Dino’s Diner in my hometown, Little Creek, New Jersey. It’s dinnertime and the place is filling up.
I watched him carefully trace his finger over the highway system on the map. My interest level dropped to my shoes as he went on and on about the difference between the red solid road lines and the red dotted ones. I knew this was preliminary small talk before the “Let’s give it another chance” lecture. I figured I’d meet with him this one last time, since he did drive five hours to get here, and tell him again, firmly, that as far as I’m concerned this relationship is muerto y enterrado, dead and buried.
I just know I’m going to have a stomachache later on. I should have brought my father with me. There’s no mistaking his meaning when he tells you something.
Roland painstakingly folded up the map until it looked like it had never been used.
“I need to find a way home that’s faster than the three hour drive through this congested beehive you love so much. I don’t know how you can stand living here. There are too many buildings, cars, and people. Way too many people.”
“I like all this.”
“You would, you’ve always been flaky.”
“Me flaky?” I leaned across the red Formica tabletop. “Hey, at least my friends don’t wear gunny sacks, pray to tree goddesses and do fifth level chakra regeneration, whatever that is.”
“It’s raising your spiritual awareness.”
“My spiritual awareness rose the instant I cross the state line. I became aware of how good it was to be home.” I leaned back and glanced over to the diner entrance as a group of guys walk in. I rated them from mediocre to semi homely. Then I spotted this vaguely familiar straggler. What’s this? I’m riveted. My eyes scanned his taller than six foot frame from his black motorcycle boots, his low slung jeans, his black guinea tee shirt revealing long lean muscular arms covered in manly tattoos. My eyes moved up to his chiseled chin, sensuous mouth, and black sunglasses. I lingered on his ear, studded with five silver skulls, and his twelve-inch fuchsia and green spiked mohawk. Wow, I’m alive and turned on. Who would have guessed that this magnificent strutting rooster would kick start my libido.
Marilyn Salzano grew up in New Jersey and is of Polish/Hungarian decent. She has been a painter and writer her whole life, regularly writing stories to go along with her paintings. Now she is pursuing her first love, writing full time. The sci-fi art mentioned in this book are references to her original paintings. Several of her short stories have won honorable mention awards in the prestigious ‘Writer’s of the Future Contest.’ Marilyn lives in upstate New York with her husband Joe.
Links to Marilyn’s website, blog, books, etc.
Available in ebook & paperback
Thanks, Marilyn, for sharing your book with us!
Don’t miss the chance to read this book!