Murder in the Neighborhood

About the Book

My name is Bill. I live by myself and have a story to tell. It started on a drizzly and cold morning. I’m just settling down in my easy chair, ready to enjoy that first sip of morning coffee, when my front door starts being banged on. It was so loud it reminded me of a scene from a movie when the SS comes to a Jewish home. I jumped up and hurried to the door, only to find a young man and a small girl curled under his arm, asking—no, pleading—to use my phone. I step to one side and let them enter—no questions asked. As the young man walks by me, he whispers so the little girl can’t hear. “I think my wife has been murdered.”

About the Author

My name is Jeff O’Donnell. It is not a pseudonym for my writing exploits; it’s my given name. I was born in Oakland, California, in the year of 1943. I was first married in 1964 and had three daughters, Lura in 1966, Erin in ’68, and Quin in ’69. The marriage lasted seventeen years, and when my wife left to go her own way, I was suddenly a single dad. My daughter Erin died in 1992 due to a self-inflicted gunshot. Erin suffered from bipolar disorder and was in and out of the hospital from the time she was eighteen years old. I stayed single for over ten years. I dated but never found the right one. But one day at work, I met a beautiful young lady, almost seventeen years my junior, who was recently divorced with two young boys—one was a year and a half and the other was three. She was so friendly and outgoing, I was not intimidated asking out the young beauty to lunch. She made me feel at complete ease. It took less than two years, and we were married. But as life goes with its ups and downs, my young wife started to slur her speech and take many falls on stairs, even carpets. She went to several doctors until the true diagnose came out. She had an incurable decease—ALS, better known as Lou Gehrig’s. She was given three to five years to live, but due to her very strong faith, she lasted seven. After her death, I felt so lost. I had been her main caregiver and had my days filled from morning to night. I did not want to sit and watch TV, so I started my first book to pass the time. I had no writing background, so I just winged it the best I could. Who knows? Maybe I will get better with practice. Sure beats watching TV all day.