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Title:
Burial Plot
Author: R. Lanier
Clemons
Genre: Mystery
Campus
security guard and cop wannabe Jonelle Sweet has a problem. Her recently deceased husband is missing from
the cemetery plot where she buried him.
Married less than two years to Delbert Sweet, Jonelle knows she can find
the answers to why someone removed his body and where he was taken.
Refusing to give up or be stonewalled,
Jonelle’s persistence pays off. As her demand for answers escalates, Jonelle
methodically tracks down a body snatcher and uncovers a conspiracy where
cadavers are sold for profit. Jonelle learns that if she doesn’t watch her
step, the grave robber may just turn into a killer. And she will be his first
victim.
Author Bio
Born in Vermilion Parish, Louisiana, R. Lanier
Clemons spent her early years moving from one Air Force base to another. It was
her father, a career Air Force Sergeant, who instilled in her the love of books.
In college, she majored in Journalism and received
her B.A. from Howard University. That degree helped her land a job as Managing
Editor of an employee newspaper for the largest telecommunications company in
the Washington DC area. Several years were spent writing the “5 W’s.” However,
that didn’t dampen her thirst for fiction. With the love of mysteries in the
back of her mind, she decided to explore some of the reasons why people
committed crimes. That led to a degree in Legal Studies at the University of
Maryland.
One day, she decided to sit down and write the kind
of book she wanted to read. As a horse owner and competitor for 30 years, she
finds writing and riding very similar activities. Both require skill,
perseverance and practice in order to continue to grow and excel at each
craft.
Links
Website: www.rlanierclemons.com
Book
Excerpts
“Burial Plot” excerpt
Jonelle
thought of something else. “Didn’t you people ever think that family members or
friends would ever visit the grave? What excuse did you have ready when they
wondered where the body was?”
“Hey, nobody was ever supposed . . .” Manross clamped his
mouth shut.
Jonelle flashed him her best gotcha smile.
Manross smirked, and his eyes shifted to a spot over her
right shoulder.
“What’re you . . .”
Hands pushed into her back, shoving her into the shed.
She screamed and fell forward, hitting the side of her head on something hard.
Excruciating pain erupted above her right eye.
As bad as the physical pain felt, it was nothing compared to the
slamming of the door and the total darkness that followed.
As the ache flowed from her head down to her neck and
shoulders, Jonelle slid all the way to the ground and lay there moaning. The
clasp of her bag dug into her chest.
A warm, sticky wetness trickled down her face, stinging
her eyes. She squeezed them shut. The wetness oozed down to the edge of her
mouth. She instinctively licked the spot and nearly gagged at the taste of her
own blood.
As she lay there, Jonelle became aware of the cold, musty
smell of the hard, dry earth. With agonizing slowness, she opened her eyes then
immediately clamped them shut again. Her breath came in short, rapid gasps. She
felt the darkness pressing hard into her body. Jonelle tried to slow
her breathing. She reached a hand out to get a sense of her surroundings and
banged it against something sharp. She cried out and clutched the hand to her
chest, rubbing it softly, eyes still closed. As the throbbing in her hand
eased, Jonelle opened her eyes and struggled to her hands and knees. (303
words)
Burial
Plot excerpt
Burt
nodded at Tankersley. “Just look at the man. Those glasses, the bow tie, and
he’s wearin’ chinos. Chinos for gosh sakes. Man’s a hundred years old and he’s
wearin’ chinos.” He leaned toward Jonelle and whispered conspiratorially, “And
he’s been known to wear a tweed jacket with those gawdawful elbow patches.”
“You
sayin’ Sears makes shirts with mustard stains?” Tankersley quipped. Burt looked
down at his shirt. “I’m hurt, prof. Sears? I’ll have you know it’s Tar-jay all
the way.” Tankersley and Jonelle laughed. “What’s so funny?” hollered a voice
from the back. No one answered.
Tankersley
stopped laughing. “Gotta question for you, Burt. Heard anything lately about
any grave robberies?” The detective’s face turned serious. “Still happens
sometimes, from what I’m hearing from some of my drinking buddies. Used to be
these lowlifes dug up bodies for jewelry or other valuables buried with the
deceased. Nowadays I’m hearing graves are being desecrated for the metal urns,
copper vases, flag holders, and anything else the robbers can sell for scrap.”
Burt looked up at the ceiling. “Now, lessee if I remember right. Think I heard
somewhere that copper is sellin’ for about three dollars eighty cents a pound.”
He looked at Jonelle. “The creeps think no foul, no harm. Nobody gets hurt, so
what’s the big deal, kinda thing. Somebody steal somethin’ from a grave ‘a
yours?”
Before
Jonelle could answer, Tankersley asked, “What about actually removing the
bodies?”
“You
mean for some kinda satanic ritual or something? Yeah, still happens from time
to time. Haven’t heard anything like that in a while, but I can ask around. Now
there have been a few stories about scumbag funeral directors takin’ money from
the bereaved and disposing of the bodies like trash. That what you’re talkin’
about?”
Jonelle
shook her head. “Based on what I’ve found out so far, the bodies were dug up
and sold for money.”
“Whole
bodies?” Burt asked, looking from Jonelle to Tankersley and back again.
She
nodded. “I don’t think these guys were in it for any kind of organ harvesting
or ritualistic, satanic cult thing.”
Burt
whistled. “Bodies, you’re sayin’? As in more than one? Something rotten in
Denmark here, folks?”
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