Book Spotlight | Hanging The Devil by Tim Maleeny

Today the spotlight is on Hanging The Devil by Tim Maleeny!

An art heist thriller that has been described as “a caper stuffed with comedy and crime”, this is the fifth book in the Cape Weathers Mysteries series but can be read as a standalone.

To give you a taste, I’m sharing the synopsis and excerpt from the book. Thank you to Wunderkind PR for this exclusive excerpt!

Genre: Thriller/Mystery
Pages: 416
Publication Date: 14 Nov 2023
Author: Tim Maleeny
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press

Synopsis

When a helicopter crashes through the skylight of the Asian Art Museum, an audacious heist turns into a tragedy. The only witness to the crash is eleven-year-old Grace, who watches in horror as her uncle is killed and a priceless statue stolen by two men and a―ghost? At least that’s how the eerie, smoke-like figure with parchment skin and floating hair appears to Grace. Scared almost to death, she flees into the night and seeks refuge in the back alleys of San Francisco’s Chinatown. Grace is found by Sally Mei, the self-appointed guardian of Chinatown.

While Sally trains Grace in basic survival skills, her erstwhile partner Cape Weathers, private detective and public nuisance, searches for the mysterious crew behind the robbery before they strike the museum a second time. As the clock winds down, Cape enlists aid from some unlikely allies to lay a trap for a ghost who has no intention of being caught―nor of leaving any witnesses alive to tell the tale.

Excerpt

Grace stared at the Buddha, but the Buddha didn’t blink.

His eyes focused on something beyond Grace, a distant vision of an unattainable future. He looked serene, but Grace thought he was being stubborn. She knew a lot about being stubborn.

The Buddha was eleven hundred years old. Grace was eleven.

Her eyes started to water, and Grace blinked first. She was annoyed, convinced this particular Buddha would come to life and smile, if only she could outlast him.

It was the second-oldest statue in the Hall of Buddhas and the tenth to face her in a test of wills. Grace was working her way through the Asian Art Museum one exhibit at a time, a game designed to keep her restless imagination occupied while her uncle, Han, patrolled the building.

Grace chose a different exhibit to explore every night until she got tired, then she slept on a couch in the main hall until her uncle’s shift ended at dawn. Technically, only her uncle was allowed to be in the museum after hours, but his supervisor said it was okay until they made new arrangements. Han had been

the night guard for two years and had a sterling reputation. He assured Grace that no one would know as long as she didn’t break any priceless artifacts.

Han didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone in his small apartment. Not until they got word from her father.

Grace let her gaze drift to the placard set into the column below the statue. This particular Buddha was from northern China, near a town unknown to Grace. The red dot on the little map seemed incredibly far from her home in Hong Kong, a world away from where she stood now.

It had been a week since she arrived in San Francisco to stay with her uncle, but a lifetime since she held her father’s hand in Victoria Park. Grace’s eyes stung at the memory. She told herself it was from the staring contest and blinked away the tears as she read the Buddha’s quote inscribed below the map.

Even death is not to be feared by one who has lived wisely.

Grace wondered if her parents lived wisely. She wondered if they were even still alive.

Her father said a million people were gathering in Victoria Park that day, the biggest protest Hong Kong had ever seen. When Grace was older and Hong Kong was independent, she could say she had been there. Her stepmother told him to stop saying such things aloud, that they shouldn’t have come.

Her father shrugged and laughed. He took out his cell phone and held it at arm’s length, mugging for the camera as they rode a wave of humanity into the park. Grace asked her stepmother why so many people were holding umbrellas.

When the tear gas canisters started falling like rain, she understood.

Now, standing in a museum half a world away, memory of the tear gas made her eyes sting all over again. The Buddha looked at her with infinite compassion, but that didn’t make Grace feel any better. He still refused to blink.

Grace exited the gallery. She would conquer the Buddha another night.

She turned left and stepped onto a glass walkway, a translucent path to the escalator that would take her downstairs. To her right, a wall of glass rose seamlessly to fuse with a massive skylight supported by green copper bands. Grace imagined she was walking through a dragon’s rib cage.

Through the glass was an outdoor patio one floor below on the roof of the adjacent building. Small tables had been arranged for an event tomorrow night. Umbrellas were set at regular intervals. At street level was Civic Center Plaza, a rectangular park at the center of the city, and beyond that, San Francisco City Hall. The building loomed over the park, its dome and spire illuminated in a soft red glow.

The red was new. Last night it had been blue. Grace figured the person in charge of lighting the building must change the color depending on their mood. She stood staring out the window, grateful for the distraction, cheeks crackly from drying tears.

An enormous shadow swept across the sky and eclipsed the dome. Grace recoiled from the window, thinking it was a giant bat. Maybe a dragon.

Then she heard the rotors.

A helicopter flew low across the square. Grace pressed her hands against the window to steady herself as the glass floor began to vibrate. The helicopter was matte black, flickering in and out of existence as Grace tried to track it against the night sky. It tilted suddenly, like someone rocking on their heels, and spun halfway around to approach the museum.

Grace realized it wasn’t going to land in the park, it was angling for the patio directly below where she was standing. As the helicopter rotated sideways, Grace could see inside the cockpit.

The pilot stared back at her. He looked scared.

Grace called to her uncle as he bounded up the escalator holding a walkie-talkie in his left hand. Han waved her away from the window and grabbed her by the hand to drag her back inside the Hall of Buddhas. As they reached the threshold, Grace looked over her shoulder.

The body of the helicopter was spinning wildly. Something was wrong.

Cover photo by Diogo Fagundes