Ferry Tails Thriller

Synopsis:

Beneath the tranquil surface of Whidbey Island, a sinister force lurks. When a ruthless polygamist cult leader and his deadly enforcer unleash chaos, Deputy Sheriff Roger Wilkie is drawn into a relentless game of cat and mouse. He knows the truth—but capturing these cunning killers may be his toughest challenge yet.

With the help of the island’s eccentric residents—including a formidable ex-con who’s always in the thick of trouble—and two sharp-witted German Shepherds, Wilkie navigates a world of danger, dark humor, and razor-sharp sarcasm. Fast-paced and gripping, this thriller will keep you hooked until the final, heart-stopping twist.

Part of the Whidbey Island series, but can be read as a standalone

Author bio:

Ted Mulcahey has lived most of his life in the Pacific Northwest. He is an Army Veteran, sales and marketing VP, entrepreneur, business owner, avid reader, one of nine children, and proud husband who attributes his sense of humor to his mother and his wife.

Website: http://tedmulcahey.com

My review: 4 stars. The hours spent on the ferries to Whidbey Island inspired the author to write this book. My favorite character is the main one and his relationship with his partner. The beginning grabs us immediately when a woman is discovered shot in the ferry when they are arriving. Francis (and his dog Henry my hero eheheheh) is another character I like because when he acts, people fear him, and the scenes are fun.

Author Marketing Experts:

X: @Bookgal

Instagram: @therealbookgal

Amazon: http://amzn.to/3Fpizv5

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/224052306-ferry-tails

On writing:

How did you do research for your book?

Much of the background for Ferry Tails is the result of my travels in Southern Utah and Arizona. My friendship with a retired Ferry Captain was invaluable in detailing the inner workings of the Washington State Ferry System

Which was the hardest character to write? The easiest?

The most difficult was the leader of the breakaway religious cult. The easiest, of course, was Roger Wilkie.

How did you come up with the ideas for your books?

Because of many hours spent on the ferries to Whidbey Island, I had always entertained the idea of a murder on one of my trips. Ferry Tails was my chance to bring the thought to life.

Where do you get inspiration for your stories?

Mostly the quirky characters I bump into while living on an island.

What makes your books different from other cozy mysteries out there?

The locales and perhaps the sarcastic sense of humor from the principal characters.

What advice would you give budding writers?

Sit down and write. Then when you’re done for the day, think about what you’ve written, but write without thinking first—that’s when the real you happens.

Your book is set in the Puget Sound area. Have you ever been there?

I live there.

If you could put yourself as a character in your book, who would you be?

There’s a good deal of Kevin O’Malley in me, but he’s likely an improved version.

Do you have another profession besides writing?

Nope.

How long have you been writing?

Off and on since my high school newspaper.

Do you ever get writer’s block? What helps you overcome it?

Not block, per se, but sometimes it’s difficult coming up with a satisfactory resolution that is somewhat unique.

What is your next project?

A mystery surrounding a murdered CEO of a pharmaceutical company whose demise is the result of an unknown organism.

What genre do you write and why?

Cozy Mysteries, mostly for an enjoyable humorous journey that takes the reader somewhere else, if only for a little while.

What is the last great book you’ve read?

It’s an old one, but Word of Honor by Nelson DeMille made an indelible impression. Probably because I was a junior officer in the US Army during the same period as the story.

What is a favorite compliment you have received on your writing?

“I really had fun reading it”, is always my favorite.

How are you similar to or different from your lead character?

Similar in life experiences but I have considerably more foibles than Kevin O’Malley.

If your book were made into a movie, who would star in the leading roles?

Paul Rudd and Sandra Bullock.

If your book were made into a movie, what songs would be on the soundtrack?

“Ripple” by the Grateful Dead

What were the biggest rewards and challenges with writing your book?

The reward is in solving the riddles and completing the story.

In one sentence, what was the road to publishing like?

Long.

Which authors inspired you to write?

Justin Scott, DeMille, and Rosenfelt.

On rituals:

Do you snack while writing? Favorite snack?

Not much

Where do you write?

In my basement office.

Do you write every day?

Pretty much. Unless I’m playing golf.

What is your writing schedule?

Every morning about 9 am until I get too stiff to sit in the chair.

Is there a specific ritualistic thing you do during your writing time?

Not really, I try to do a HIIT workout in the early afternoon.

In today’s tech savvy world, most writers use a computer or laptop. Have you ever written parts of your book on paper?

Not since thirty years ago.

Fun stuff:

If you could go back in time, where would you go?

Not sure I want to do that, really.

Favorite travel spot?

Ireland

Favorite dessert?

Pie

If you were stuck on a deserted island, which 3 books would you want with you?

Three that I haven’t read yet.

What’s the funniest thing that ever happened to you? The scariest? The strangest?

Brushed my teeth with glue instead of toothpaste as a kid. (I think that’s the answer for all three questions)

What’s the most courageous thing you’ve ever done?

Exposed my books to criticism.

Any hobbies? or Name a quirky thing you like to do.

Love golf.

If there is one thing you want readers to remember about you, what would it be?

I tried to lighten their day.

What is something you've learned about yourself during the pandemic?

Being home alone with my wife is really, really nice.

What TV series are you currently binge watching?

Slow Horses

What song is currently playing on a loop in your head?

“In Times Like These” Arlo Guthrie

What is something that made you laugh recently?

The charm of Norm and Cliff on reruns of Cheers

What is your go-to breakfast item?

Yogurt, fruit and granola.

Who was your childhood celebrity crush?

Barbra Feldon, Agent 99

                                      (chapter) Twenty

The cabin was rustic and smelled of old wood. A queen bed was shoved against a pine-clad wall, and a small writing desk with a lamp and a chair sat opposite. He presumed a stained, knotty pine door on the far side of the room led to the bathroom. One other item was shoved in the corner on the far side of the bed—a puffy, plaid dog bed.

Francis seemed unsure of his next move, but Henry…not so much. The three-year-old eighty-pound GSD vaulted into the center of the bed, turned three circles, then plopped down and stared expectantly at his human.

Jesus, he thought, what have I gotten myself into? He rested his muscular body on the small chair and looked at his new friend. “What do you think, Henry? What’s going through that brain of yours?”

The shepherd perked his ears even higher and twisted his head, seemingly trying to understand. He held that pose for a few seconds, then lowered his head on his two front paws, his eyes never leaving Francis.

He had heard dogs could be smart, but this one almost scared him with its intelligence. He was out of his league, so he did what he always did when unsure—he took action.

He stood up, and as he did, so did Henry. “Come on, buddy, let’s take a walk.”

The large rust and black mass of fur jumped from the bed, stopped at his feet, and sat, still looking up.

“What? What is it?” Francis sensed the dog wanted something…but what?

After a few seconds of staring at each other, he got it. “The leash, right? The leash?”

Two sharp barks answered his question. Francis shook his head in wonderment at this marvelous animal as he snapped on the leash and headed out the door. “Let’s go, boy, c’mon.”

At dusk in Kanab, the surrounding rocks and mountains gave off an unearthly, deep red glow. Francis and Henry took one of the many trails through the boulders and small crevasses surrounding Dogtown. The temperature was a comfortable seventy degrees, and the wind was nonexistent. The quiet was broken only by the swish of Francis’s boots through the sand and the rapid huffing of Henry.

He found himself talking to his companion, asking him about the case, where Driggs was, and what made Mullins such an evil man. Every time he paused, so did Henry. He was astonished at the animal's awareness and constant search for threats. He started to understand why GSDs were the workhorses for police, search and rescue, and the military. Still, though, as much as he liked him, he wasn’t inclined to take care of a pet.

They circled back to the cabin just before dark. Opening the door, he saw a brown paper bag on the desk, several grease stains providing clues to its contents. On the floor next to the dog bed was a large bowl of water and another with kibble piled high. Francis had never heard of this place, but it was clear they had their shit together.

He scarfed down the still-warm hamburger and fries while Henry did the same with his dinner. Francis knew enough to take his pal for a short walk after eating to do his business. 

They returned to the small TV-less cabin, with only each other for company. Francis thought it was silly for people to talk to their pets like humans, but now he found himself doing precisely that. He was tired from the day's events and the exhilarating walk and was looking forward to crashing early.

Making sure Henry was in his bed, he showered, brushed his teeth, shaved his head, and returned to the bedroom. Henry’s bed was empty, and he was once again perched in the middle of the bed designated for humans.

“Henry…down, boy.” Francis snapped his fingers as he said this.

The large shepherd dutifully stepped from the bed and went to his designated sleeping place. Francis climbed under the covers, switched off the bedside lamp, and immediately fell asleep in the room’s pitch darkness.

At some point in the middle of the night, he turned over to get up to relieve himself but found Henry nestled next to him. The dog seemed determined to sleep in the same bed, so Francis turned the opposite way to get to the bathroom rather than protest. He wondered what thoughts were going through the dog’s mind and why he seemed to latch on to someone like him.

He stumbled back to bed in the darkness, climbed back in, even pushing the animal over a few feet so he could fit, and soon fell back asleep. He didn’t stir until daylight crept through the curtains the next morning.

Reaching over, he found Henry was no longer lying next to him. He sat up to see his new best friend sitting alertly in his dog bed, apparently awaiting instruction. “Ya know, Henry, you sure are an interesting fellow. How about I get you a little food? Then we can get to finding these Barlow people.”

After Henry finished the last of his kibble, they headed for his truck. Francis opened the rear door of the crew cab and urged his companion to jump up into it, but the dog just sat there staring at him.

“What? You can’t jump?”

When Francis attempted to help the animal up, he pulled away.

“C’mon, Henry, what’s the problem? We gotta get going.”

Frustrated, Francis opened the front passenger side to put his duffle in. Looking like an Olympian, Henry launched himself inside the truck and onto the passenger seat. He sat there alertly, looked down at his partner, and barked sharply as if to say, close the damn door, buddy.

Shaking his head, Francis threw his duffle into the back, closed both doors, and headed for the Best Friends Welcome Center. They arrived to find Terri standing by the entrance.

“Well, Francis, how was your night with Henry?”

They were standing on the step, Francis holding the leash and Henry practically glued to his leg.

“I’ll admit, he’s an amazing animal. He sure has a mind of his own, but we got along well.”

“Would you like to adopt him?”

“I think he’s wonderful, Terri, but I don’t see me having a dog.”

She looked disappointed but accepted his decision. “I understand. If you still want to talk to the Barlows, you can find them in the cafeteria, across the street.”

He thanked her, handed her the leash, and turned to leave. As he did, Henry began a high-pitched keening that nearly buckled his knees. He stopped momentarily but then continued walking to find the two men who might be able to help him find Driggs.

Abe and John Barlow were not brothers, but if looks meant anything, they could have been. They were both slightly built and somewhere in their mid-twenties. They seemed to be gentle souls and appeared to love their jobs working with the animals at Best Friends. Unfortunately, they were of little help in supplying any information that might help locate Joseph Driggs.

The two men had discovered that caring for animals and spending time with others of like minds was far more rewarding than living with the FLDS's strict and sometimes bizarre rules and practices. According to the Barlows, Driggs may have had altruistic intentions at one time, but their impressions were that he grew increasingly greedy and self-absorbed as the years passed. They felt he would never be far from Shane Mullins, especially if money were involved.

Disappointed but determined, Francis returned to his rented truck across the street. As he opened the door to get in, he heard Terri yell, “Henry…HENRY, come…get back here.” 

He turned just in time to witness what a full-grown German Shepherd traveling at thirty miles per hour looks like. In a blur, Henry vaulted into the pickup, hopped over the console, and sat in the passenger seat.

Terri rushed over and said, “I’m sorry, Francis. He pulled the leash from me as soon as he saw you. Let me get him out of there.”

 Francis looked up at the dog, sitting silently and alert, his intelligent eyes begging to stay. He melted. He’d never had a dog or even a goldfish, but there was a connection with Henry he’d never felt with anyone before, human or animal. “Never mind, Terri.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“It seems I don’t have much choice here. I think he’s adopted me, not the other way around. What do I need to do to take him with me?”

The paperwork was taken care of on the hood of his truck while Henry supervised and never moved from his shotgun position. Francis had planned to return his ride to the Las Vegas Harry Reid International Airport, but now, with his additional passenger, he opted to make the seventeen-hour drive back to Whidbey Island. He figured they’d make Twin Falls by nightfall, then do the ten-hour stretch the following day.

A little over an hour after leaving Kanab, they merged onto I-15 and settled in for the next four hundred miles. Henry had finally curled up on the passenger seat and was snoring quietly. Every time he glanced at his new pal, he felt a little twinge in his gut. He knew his buddy, O’Malley, owned a German Shepherd and was rarely seen without her. He began understanding how attached this breed could become to a single individual or family. He recalled what Terri had told him: “Remember, these dogs are pack animals, and if you and your family are their pack, they will defend and protect you until they die. It’s their sole purpose in life.”

She also told him how important it was to socialize Henry with others, including other canines. As the miles passed, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he was now responsible to and for another creature. It was the same way he felt about his brother…sort of. This was a little different. He wondered what Jake would have to say about his new roomie.