|
Welcome to Oakwood, Ohio.
Scroll down to begin your virtual tour of the many places within and around our fair city that provide the settings-and crime scenes-for The Oakwood Book Club Mysteries. Enjoy your stay, but remember: Suburbia is Murder, cupcake. |
|
Unfortunately, the arched entry to the stadium provided almost no shelter.
"Not safe! Get inside!" he screamed, his voice almost carried away by the howling wind. A wrought iron table bounced toward them, hit the railing around the running track, and veered off, missing her van by inches. "Now!"
--The Codebook Murders
"This place is blowing my mind, by the way." Vanessa pointed. "A drinking fountain made of Rookwood tiles? My old high school looks like a penitentiary."
--The Codebook Murders
The pathway jogged left, ascended two shallow steps, and then they were stepping inside a hidden gem of emerald lawns, spreading trees, and sparkling water. On the far side of the pond stood a white stucco building about the size of a two-car garage, the wood window and door frames painted dark green, the roof covered with the same orange tiles as the main house and entry columns.
--The Codebook Murders
"In secret, Doris filled a duffel bag with newspapers and put a thin layer of cash on top. She dropped it where the note specified she should--inside a trash barrell at RiverScape--and sat in her car, watching and waiting."
--The Codebook Murders
"They've remodeled Wright Library a bunch of times since it was built in 1938, including an addition in '83 and a major renovation a couple of years ago. So I focused on the original space. All the old walnut shelves are still there, the big deep window casements, the stained glass windows. I tapped and jiggled all around the place, looking for hidey holes." Katie grinned. "The staff thought I was bonkers."
--The Codebook Murders
"The cheerleaders were backed up against the railing that separated the stands from the field. With three seconds on the clock and the game tied, sideline protocol kind of broke down." Carter smiled faintly--his first, Charley realized, since she'd arrived. "At that point, a tank could have rolled into the stadium and nobody would've noticed. If I hadn't been tracking Regan, I'd have missed her exit, too."
--The Codebook Murders
And on the top shelf, nestled between copies of Silas Marner and The Sun Also Rises, sat a thick book with a brown cover. Heart pounding, Charley angled her glass and read the words stamped on the spine in gold: The New Webster Encyclopedic Dictionary of the English Language.
--The Codebook Murders
"He approaches a vehicle he recognizes--" Charley remembered Merritt's hasty departure from the school. "Like a school SUV? One of those, with the logo on the door, would engender trust. And if the driver had a gun . . ."
--The Codebook Murders
But she didn't answer, frozen in place as the carillon at St. Paul's Church began tolling the hour, the deep ringing both mournful and joyous, measuring the time, marking a deliberate count to seven.
--The Codebook Murders
Frowning, she gazed out and to her left toward the house next door, where a red faced Dr. Paxton Sharpe strode across his front lawn. He climbed into a late model Mercedes, revved the engine, and shot backward out of his driveway at a shallow angle that had the left rear tire striking the curb of the grassy boulevard that bisected their quiet street.
Charley’s frown deepened as Sharpe slammed the car into gear and roared off.
“We’ve got children on this street, jerk face,” she muttered at his dissipating exhaust cloud. “Two of them are yours.”
--The Advice Column Murders
Shortly after he’d moved home from Chicago, he’d let
Paul drag him to a cop’s retirement party in the walnut
paneled bar of The Oakwood Club, the local
steakhouse. An inebriated Drummond had accosted
Marc in the men’s room, a ridiculous and humiliating
encounter that had left Marc with a torn shirt and
Drummond with his ass soaking in a urinal.
--The Advice Column Murders
“They’ve ruled out stroke and heart attack,” he replied dully. “The attending physician thinks it was a seizure. Judith has borderline diabetes, and she’s prone to fainting episodes in situations of extreme stress. She had the boys out at the Boonshoft Museum all morning, so she probably skipped lunch. Hank loves feeding those otters in the Wild Ohio exhibit. Thank God they weren’t home when . . .” His mouth worked. “The girl must’ve already been dead when they . . .”
--The Advice Column Murders
--The Advice Column Murders
“Talk about a prime location for a
preschool!” Cecilia exclaimed. “Can you
imagine?”
Taking up nearly an entire residential city
block, Orchardly Park offered pickle ball
courts, a wading pool and a picnic shelter.
Most of the space, however, was filled
with fantastically shaped and brightly
colored play equipment. Half a dozen
children climbed, swung or slid as young parents looked on from a scattering of tree shaded benches.
--The Advice Column Murders
Katie disappeared as she turned her cellphone. Charley saw a blur of trees, grass and asphalt. Then the image refocused, and she found herself looking at a squad car with its light bar flashing blue and red. Behind it was an unmarked police issue sedan she recognized as Marc’s usual work ride. Both vehicles were parked in front of a small building covered with weathered brown shingles. A sign in the yard read
The Oakwood Register.
The image blurred again, and Katie’s face, pale and tense, reappeared. “The cops kicked me out, but I heard one of them say the office was ransacked last night.”
--The Advice Column Murders
“We were at the Carillon Brewery, and we saw this
couple having a massive fight. The guy kept putting his foot in his mouth, and finally the woman told him to
go to hell, that their engagement was off. "
Trent took up the tale. "When she literally threw a
ring in his face and stormed out, and the guy started
sobbing into his ale, Ann Landers over here began
coming up with all the things the poor bastard
should’ve said.” He sent Dmitri a swift smile. “Really funny, but brilliant, too. Hell, even I would’ve forgiven that idiot.”
--The Advice Column Murders
“Interesting place you’ve got here.” Marc gazed up at the peaked ceiling with its exposed beams and mullioned dormer windows. The room was crammed with overstuffed furniture covered in silks and velvets in a riot of colors. Heavy maroon drapes trimmed with gold brocade covered the tall windows. The polished wood floors were heaped with Persian rugs. Piecrust tables held crystal and cloisonné lamps topped with fringed silk shades. Every inch of wall space displayed ornately framed oil paintings, original lithographs, and colorful tribal masks from Africa, Australia and South America.
“This condo literally saved my life. When my folks kicked me out, Great Aunt Athena took me in, or I’d have ended up homeless like a lot of kids.” Dmitri gazed around the room, his dark eyes misting with tears. “It looks like a Singapore whorehouse, but I haven’t had the heart to redecorate.”
--The Advice Column Murders
Charley walked over and perched on the
low wall of landscaping timbers that
enclosed the sandbox and provided seating
for children and their minders. A young
father sat nearby, trying to keep a toddler
from putting the sandy contents of a plastic
teacup into her mouth. Children shrieked
and laughed as they scrambled over the
complex of climbing equipment nearby.
Massive oak and ash trees provided shade as they swayed in the soft spring breeze, flinging bright coins of sunlight across the park with delicious abandon. When school let out in a few hours, the ball diamond and wide green lawn would be packed with older kids, tossing Frisbees and shagging fly balls. But for now, the preschool crowd ruled.
--The Advice Column Murders
Her phone chimed. She tapped the incoming photo to enlarge it, and clucked in satisfaction. “That’s him. Brandon’s at Bell, Book and Comic on Patterson. They’ve got a private room in the back for table top gaming. Brandon bought his way in with a baggie of weed. Loser. Now they’re—”
As she scrolled through more photos and read the accompanying text from her Irregular, her heart sank. “Oh, crap. Marc, there’re at least six people back there playing World of Warcraft. It’s a long, narrow store. There’s a delivery door in back that stays locked. If Brandon’s armed, he could barricade himself in. We could have a hostage situation.”
--The Advice Column Murders
As she scrolled through more photos and read the accompanying text from her Irregular, her heart sank. “Oh, crap. Marc, there’re at least six people back there playing World of Warcraft. It’s a long, narrow store. There’s a delivery door in back that stays locked. If Brandon’s armed, he could barricade himself in. We could have a hostage situation.”
--The Advice Column Murders
{Oakwood is crisscrossed with alleys and easements running behind homes built in the early 20th century, when everyone either walked or rode electric streetcars, and driveways and garages were considered a necessity only by the very wealthy.}
“Police! Freeze!” Mitch fired again, but the man was already out of range, sprinting toward an alley that ran perpendicular to Magnolia and formed one side of the Peache's eastern neighbor’s property. He knew it was filled with garage doors, overgrown shrubs, a dozen hiding places and points of escape into a dozen properties along two different parallel streets.
--The Antique House Murders
Charley glimpsed a rolling green fairway on her left just before Sean steered the Honda through another pillared entrance.
“The Dayton Country Club?” she asked in surprise. “How can you afford a membership here?”
“Funny story.” Sean followed the long drive past a swimming pool and tennis courts, both closed for the season. The clubhouse appeared, a graceful white stucco building with an orange tiled roof and high arched windows overlooking the golf course.
--The Antique House Murders
“One shoplifter, delivered as promised.” Sean
trotted up, both hands clamped firmly on a
teenage boy in a blue sweatshirt. “Little bastard
got all the way to Smith Gardens before I caught
him. You’re paying for my dry cleaning, buddy. Just
so you know.”
--The Antique House Murders
{Runnymede Road, a long and winding street that curves through exclusive West Oakwood, is paved with bricks hand laid by German artisans over a century ago.}
The most valuable land, and the biggest mansions, were secreted deep along this secluded miniature valley floor. The twists and turns, lack of striping or sidewalks, and generally poor level of street lighting discouraged casual traffic, both foot and vehicular, a state of affairs that was, of course, just how the residents over here liked it.
--The Antique House Murders
{Mack Hummon Stadium has been home to the
Oakwood Lumberjacks' football, track and field
contests since the 1950's. It is the uncredited site of the final, epic contest.}
Marc grabbed her hand. “I don’t think they’re listening,” he said. “Counselor.” He punched Trent’s shoulder. “Logan? Keys?” Never breaking eye contact with Dmitri, Trent silently extended his hand and dropped a set of keys into Marc’s palm. “Come with me,” Marc commanded, and began pulling Charley toward the stadium gate.
--The Antique House Murders
The right hand side of The Shops of Park Avenue district was home to a dozen small businesses, occupying a series of converted houses and mismatched retail buildings. While most of them were still closed, windows dark, Ashley’s Bakery opened at seven and was already jammed with customers.
--The Antique House Murders
"I didn't want to assume anything," Vanessa said softly. Dmitri rolled his eyes.
"I think we all know that's a lie. My condo at Oakwood Manor's got two extra bedrooms, and you can't afford your own place on part-time money if you're paying tuition--" He was almost knocked to the ground by the exuberance of his sister's hug.
"I'll be the perfect roommate! You'll never even know I'm there."
He held her tightly, and Charley's heart broke a little for her friend. Dmitri put up a good front, but she knew how lonely he truly was.
--The Antique House Murders
|
Dripping with moisture and just under seven feet, the culvert opening was barely tall enough to allow Marc to stand. The smell of decomposing garbage and stagnant water oozed from the damp walls like foul breath from a monstrous, gaping mouth. --The Book Club Murders |
|
|
{Oakwood High School, Est. 1924.} "It's like Hogwarts in there." --The Book Club Murders |
|
{Former train tracks-now creepy running trail and access to Crime Scene #1 from The Book Club Murders.} "I will never, never, ever run down here again, my solemn oath. Can we go?" Frankie shivered. "All this nature is giving me the creeps.” --The Book Club Murders |
|
Taking up almost the entire block on her left
sprawled the French provincial masterpiece that
was the Oakwood Safety Building, housing the
integrated EMT, Fire and Police Departments.
Oh, and the Detective Section was in there
somewhere, too. Charley glared at the historic
structure, then turned her back.
--The Book Club Murders
Marc consulted his notes. "Lisa was the last staffer present at the Oakwood Community Center the night of Wilson’s party."
--The Book Club Murders
Charley sat up. "Lindy told me Serena was meeting someone last night. 'Drinks at Carmel's at eight.' What if she went there to meet a private eye?"
"Hot damn, we've practically solved the case," Frankie declared. "It's your civic duty to call Marc and offer your expert assistance."
--The Book Club Murders